Powdered Peril

by Jessica Beck

  I didn’t want to tell her that I’d been robbed myself, so I gave her my weakest smile, and then dismissed it.

  As we reentered the apartment, I looked around and said, “We’re going to need boxes in order to do this properly.”

  “I have some downstairs in the storage area,” she admitted.

  “Well, if you go get them, we can get started.”

  Rose looked reluctant to leave us, but she soon realized that I was right. “I’ll be back in two shakes.”

  After she was gone, I looked at Grace and said, “We’ve got maybe four minutes before she’s back. If Peter was hiding something incriminating that he didn’t want anyone else to find, where would it be? I mean, a place that hasn’t already been tossed.”

  Grace frowned for a moment, and then smiled with determination. “I’m not sure if we’ll find anything, but I’ve got an idea.”

  As she walked into the kitchenette, I had to wonder what could be hidden there that hadn’t already been searched. Boxes of cereal were opened and spread out on the countertop, and sugar and flour were both in the sink where the containers had been emptied.

  Grace ignored all that, though. She went directly to the oven, though the door itself was open, as well as the storage area beneath.

  Instead of searching one of the places that had already clearly been inspected, she reached up under the overhead hood and removed the filter.

  Something fell out as she did, and I caught it just before it could hit the cooktop.

  FRIED APPLE RAISIN DONUTS

  We enjoy these donuts two times a year in particular, in the autumn when the apples are harvested, and again around the holiday season. They go perfectly with that cup of eggnog, and as an added bonus, they’re fairly easy to make. Sometimes we substitute dried cranberries for the raisins, giving them a more festive, and slightly exotic, taste.

  INGREDIENTS

  MIXED

  1 package quick-rise yeast, ¼ oz.

  ½ cup whole milk, warmed

  ½ teaspoon sugar, white granulated

  SIFTED

  1 cup flour, unbleached all-purpose

  1 tablespoon sugar, white granulated

  ½ teaspoon cinnamon

  ¼ teaspoon nutmeg

  A dash of salt

  EXTRAS

  ½ cup diced and peeled apples, Granny Smith

  ½ cup raisins or dried cranberries

  INSTRUCTIONS

  Add the yeast and sugar to the warmed milk, then stir together until dissolved. Let it stand as you sift together the flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Add the yeast/milk mix to the dry ingredients, then once blended together, add the diced apples and raisins/cranberries. Knead the dough on a lightly floured board 4–8 minutes, until the dough bounces back at the touch.

  Spray a bowl with nonstick cooking spray, then cover and put the dough in a warm place until doubled, about an hour.

  Roll the dough out on a lightly floured surface ¼- to ½- inch thick, then cut out donuts and holes with handheld cutter.

  Fry the dough in hot canola or peanut oil (370 degrees F) for two to three minutes on each side.

  Drain, then top with powdered sugar immediately or eat as they are.

  Yield: 8–12 small donuts.

  CHAPTER 9

  I examined what I’d caught, and saw that it was a carefully wrapped packet. As I studied it, I had to wonder how it could fit between the fan and the filter. Then I noticed that Peter had removed the fan blades entirely, so that the motor would still turn, giving it the illusion of working properly, but no air would be circulated.

  What was so important that he had to go to that measure to hide it?

  “How did you know about this?”

  “Peter always bragged about how clever he was. In a way, he told me himself.”

  “I don’t follow,” I said.

  “He once said in passing that if he ever had anything he wanted to protect, he’d give it to his biggest fan. After he said it, he laughed more than he should have, and it sort of stuck with me.”

  “You are a clever woman, have I told you that lately?” I asked. I started to open the packet when Grace asked, “May I?”

  “Of course,” I said. It was a small enough consolation. I figured Grace had a better reason than I did to be curious about what Peter had been up to, and she had the right to discover first what he had hidden so carefully.

  As she opened the packet, I watched over her shoulder to see what might be there.

  The first thing I saw was a wad of hundred-dollar bills, banded tightly together.

  “How much is there?” I asked.

  Grace thumbed through the bills. “It looks like three grand in cash.”

  “Why would someone hide that kind of money in a kitchen?”

  “It could be that he didn’t like to have all of his money tied up in banks,” Grace said.

  “Maybe,” I replied, though I doubted that had been the real reason. More likely it was getaway money, but I was going to keep that to myself for now. “What else is in there?”

  She took out the folded document, and at first I thought it might be a letter, but as Grace opened it, I read over her shoulder and saw that it was something completely different.

  It was simply a list.

  * * *

  “Is that all there is?” I asked.

  Grace shrugged, so I picked up the wrapping to make sure we hadn’t missed anything. Sure enough, stuck to the bottom of a piece of tape was a small, stubby key. I finally worked it free, and I held it up in the air to study it a little closer. “We’ve got a key.”

  Grace looked up, clearly surprised. “Where was that hiding?”

  “It was in the packet, but the more important question is, where’s the lock it opens?” I studied the small key. It had a black plastic grip, and printed on it was the word “WINGATE,” along with a number, 282.

  Grace took one look at it and said, “It’s the key to a safe.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I used to have one myself,” she admitted.

  “A key or a safe?”

  She shrugged briefly. “Both, I suppose.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well,” Grace said with the flash of a smile. “I don’t tell you everything about me.”

  “What happened to the safe?” I asked. “Do you still have it?”

  “Sure, it’s still at the house, but I stopped using it. As a matter of fact, I emptied it out years ago,” she admitted. “I didn’t feel good having my valuables at the house. I figured my bank account came with a free safe-deposit box, so why not use it?”

  I looked around. “Well, clearly Peter didn’t feel that way. Do you think whoever searched the place found his safe, but not the key?”

  “If they did, they wouldn’t necessarily need a key to open it. The safes these keys fit are small, and I’m willing to bet that they aren’t impossible to break into without a key, if you’re motivated enough.”

  I looked around at the wrecked apartment. “I can’t imagine that whoever did this tore the place up looking for a key. I’ve got a feeling that the safe is still here.”

  I was interrupted by someone at the door, and then I heard Rose come in with the boxes she’d promised to retrieve. I’d forgotten all about her!

  Grace made the money and the letter disappear, and I slipped the key into my pocket.

  Rose spied the filter lying on the stovetop, and then looked up at the vent. “What happened here?”

  “I’m guessing the fan’s broken,” I said, stating the obvious. “Can you believe it?”

  Rose looked at it carefully. “This was done intentionally.”

  “Well, we didn’t do it,” I said. “We saw that the filter was loose, and when we tried to put it back in place, it just fell onto the stovetop.” That was a big fat lie, but I wasn’t about to admit to Rose what we’d just found.

  She considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. “Wel
l, I hate to do it, but it has to be fixed. I’m going to have to take the cost of repair out of Peter’s security deposit.” Rose looked around, and then added, “You didn’t make much progress while I was gone, did you?”

  “We needed the boxes, remember?” I asked as I took one from her. “We can all get started now. Thanks.”

  “Thank you,” Rose said. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you earlier. This is all a little too much to take, and I’m more on edge than I realized.”

  “I’m just glad we were here to help,” I said.

  As we worked to gather Peter’s things together and box them, Grace and I kept searching for something else of importance, including the missing safe, but if anything important or significant was there, we missed it. Nor did I believe that Rose had found anything. I’d made it a point to keep an eye on her, just in case she stumbled onto something that could help us solve Peter’s murder, but she didn’t have any more luck than we did. As we all worked, I was dying to see the list Peter had hidden so carefully, but that was going to have to wait until Grace and I were alone. In a depressingly short period of time, we had Peter’s things boxed up and ready for his brother. We’d filled several trash bags as well with the flotsam and jetsam we all seem to accumulate in our lives, and we set these out in front of the apartment, to be hauled to the Dumpster.

  Once the fan blade was replaced and everything had a good cleaning, the apartment would be ready to rent again, and I didn’t doubt for a second that Peter Morgan’s memory would quickly fade from the place. It was sad in a way that I didn’t want to think about too much.

  We were stacking the four boxes of Peter’s things outside the apartment when we heard a booming voice from below us say, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  It seemed that Peter’s brother, Bryan, had arrived, and he was none too pleased to find Grace and me there.

  * * *

  “I asked you a question. What are you two doing here?” Bryan asked as he stood over us. He was a big man, and while his brother had had a grace about him that even I had to admit was charming, Bryan had none of it. It was dislike at first sight between the two of us, and I imagined Bryan got that reaction more often than not whenever he met new people.

  Grace didn’t seem to mind him at all, though. She hugged him as she said, “Bryan, I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  The gruff exterior crumbled, if only for a moment, before he spoke. He looked down at her awkwardly, and then finally managed to free himself from Grace’s embrace. “He told me you broke up with him, Grace. He was pretty shattered about it all when he called me.”

  “He made a mistake,” Grace said. “That doesn’t mean that I didn’t love him in my own way. There was always the chance we could have fixed things between us, but someone’s robbed me of that opportunity now.”

  Was Grace telling the truth, or was she just trying to get on Bryan’s good side? In my heart, I had a feeling that Grace wasn’t lying. It had to have been tougher on her finding out about Peter than I’d realized, even though I’d reacted differently when I’d discovered Max had been cheating on me.

  “You’re right. It’s too late for all of that now, isn’t it?” He didn’t say it with malice, but I had to wonder how Grace would take it as he turned to me. “Okay, I buy that she’s got a reason to be here, and so does Ms. White. Why are you here?”

  “I’m a friend of Grace’s, and I wanted to help. I’m Suzanne Hart,” I said as I extended my hand.

  He took it briefly, but there was no warmth in his handshake. “I know who you are,” Bryan said. “You’re that donut lady.”

  I’d been called worse in my life, and it was certainly descriptive of what I did for a living, but I still didn’t like the way he’d said it. “That’s right, I’m the donut lady.”

  “This is none of your business,” Bryan said flatly.

  “Hey, I don’t have any desire to step on anyone’s toes here. I was just trying to lend a hand,” I said. There was nothing to be gained by me hovering around, so I touched Grace’s arm and said, “I’ll see you in the car.”

  “Thanks for helping,” Rose said, clearly trying to smooth things over. “Your assistance was greatly appreciated.”

  “Glad I could pitch in,” I said. I turned to Bryan and added, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He just nodded, so I walked back to Grace’s car to wait for her.

  At least that’s what I wanted all of them to think. There was a space under Peter’s apartment I’d seen earlier, a breezeway where I could stand out of sight and still hear their conversation. Maybe Bryan would be a little more open if he thought that I was really gone.

  “She really was just trying to help,” Grace started off, but Bryan wouldn’t let her continue.

  “Whatever. I say this is none of her business, but she’s gone, so it doesn’t matter anymore,” he said.

  As he reached down to collect two of the garbage bags, Rose said, “You want the boxes. That’s just what needs to be thrown away.”

  “This stuff didn’t come from his apartment?” Bryan asked.

  “Of course it did, but it’s nothing you’d want to have. It’s trash.”

  “If it’s Peter’s, then I’m taking it, too,” Bryan said firmly.

  “Suit yourself,” Grace said. “Would you like us to give you a hand loading it up?”

  “I can handle it myself,” Bryan said.

  “If you don’t need me then, I’ll be going now,” Grace said. I heard footsteps on the stairs, and for a moment, I worried that I was about to be caught eavesdropping by someone other than my best friend, but happily it just turned out to be Grace.

  “Hey,” I whispered. “Over here.”

  Grace had been intent on leaving the complex, but I finally managed to get her attention. She veered over and joined me from my vantage point.

  “I thought you were gone,” Grace whispered.

  “I thought I might hear something if I stuck around,” I answered in kind.

  Upstairs, I heard Rose say to Bryan, “You didn’t need to be so rude to them. They were just giving me a hand.”

  “That’s not their jobs; it’s yours,” Bryan said gruffly.

  “And it’s finished now, so you don’t need me anymore,” Rose said.

  I could hear her walking away when Bryan spoke up. “What about my deposit?”

  “What? As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t make one; your brother did.”

  “I’m his only family,” Bryan said. “Everything he had is mine now.”

  Rose’s voice rose. “Mr. Morgan, I indulged you by letting you collect your brother’s things out of sympathy, but I’m beginning to believe that I made a mistake. Please put everything back into the apartment. When you present a legal document that gives you access to your brother’s things, I’ll release them, but not until then.”

  I thought Rose was nuts to confront him like that, but I did admire her spirit. “Who’s going to stop me from just taking everything anyway?”

  Her voice stiffened. “Detective Newberry lives in Apartment Number 8. He is probably still sleeping since he works the night shift, but I’ll wake him if I must.”

  The length of silence was unbearable, and I had to wonder who would back down first. Feet stomped on the steps now, and only Bryan’s pause saved us as we hurried away.

  “You didn’t win anything here, lady,” I heard him say. “I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll be here waiting,” she said, and Grace and I hustled out of there before Bryan could catch us.

  As we raced back to Grace’s car, I said, “Good for her. I love it that she didn’t let him bully her.”

  “I’m not sure how much good it did, though,” Grace said. “Bryan’s right. He was Peter’s only living relative. I can’t imagine the circumstances where he won’t get everything.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s going to be done by the book. When he asked about the security deposit, I had a sick feeling that
Rose was about to tell him about the altered fan.”

  Grace nodded. “I was holding my breath, too. The last thing I want is Bryan Morgan discovering that we found Peter’s secret stash.”

  We got into her car and drove a few miles when I said, “Speaking of our discovery, may I see the list we found?”

  Grace nodded as she pulled over into a nearly empty parking lot for an auto parts supply house. “I’ve been curious about that myself, but I wanted to make sure we got far enough away from the apartment complex.”

  As she pulled the note out, I leaned over so that we could both see what Peter had written there.

  I had to believe it was important.

  Why else hide it along with the cash he’d squirreled away?

  As we both studied it, I saw that it was a list of names, a real mess, with new ones added and old ones struck out with pen and pencil. It was clear by the state of it that Peter had kept it for a long time before he decided to hide it. A thought suddenly struck me. Could we be certain that it was his list to begin with?

  “Is this Peter’s handwriting?” I asked Grace.

  “It is, no doubt about it,” she answered. “I can’t figure out why he kept it, though.”

  “It’s pretty clear, isn’t it?” At the head of the page, written in large block letters, the words “RAT LIST” were written. “Did you know about this, Grace?”

  She shrugged. “I knew that Peter was a fool for lists, but this is a little hard to take, don’t you think? Who does this kind of thing, anyway?”

  “I’m not the one to ask,” I said. “It makes for some pretty interesting reading, though, doesn’t it?”

  I took the paper from Grace, with her approval, and started reading it a little closer.

  Brother Bryan was first on the list, no last name needed. It had been crossed out a number of times, and from the look of it, Peter’s brother had bounced in and out of favor with him since the list had been started who knew how long ago.

  As I read down the list of names, I saw our other suspects mentioned there, and more. Besides Leah Gentry and Henry Lincoln, I was surprised to see Kaye Belson and Rose White, but nothing prepared me for the final two names I found written there. I nearly dropped the paper when I saw the name Nan Winters. What had my new assistant done to get on Peter’s bad side?