Powdered Peril

by Jessica Beck

  “I was,” she admitted. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Come in. Sit down,” he said. “In all honesty, it was more your loss than mine.”

  “Does that mean that you’re not sorry that he’s dead?” I asked.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” he said as he looked at me and frowned slightly.

  “I’m Suzanne Hart.”

  The frown deepened. “Do I know your mother?”

  “You do,” I answered, keeping my response as simple as I could. The less I said about Momma, the bigger presence she’d have in the conversation.

  “Thought so,” he said, and then muttered something else under his breath.

  “So,” I said, “back to Peter. You didn’t sound that upset about him dying.”

  “Of course I am, but not for such altruistic reasons as your friend there. It turns out Peter was pretty adept at lying, even to his partner. I hope he wasn’t that way in his personal life.”

  “I’m sorry to say that he was,” Grace admitted.

  Lincoln just shook his head. “The man never knew when to play it straight, and he never realized just how good he had it.”

  “How exactly did he lie to you?” I asked.

  “Where do I start? We were going along fine, making a little money here and there, without any real downside. Then he got the opportunity of a lifetime, and he wanted to cut me in on it. Nice guy, right?”

  “What happened?” Grace asked, her voice softening.

  “I lost half of everything I had in the world,” Lincoln said. “I might as well have married a trophy wife and given it all to her. At least then I would have gotten some companionship out of the deal.”

  “I’m confused,” I said. “How does that make Peter the bad guy? He must have lost money, too.”

  “That was the impression I got, until three days ago, that is. I was at a bar drowning my sorrows when the man we’d invested with happened to come in. After a few drinks, he asked me why I didn’t pull out when Peter did, when the fund was still making money.

  “I nearly spit out my drink. I asked him what he was talking about, and he told me that Peter had pulled out everything he had just before the dive, but that I’d told him that I was going to ride it out no matter what. He screwed me to the wall, but good.”

  “What good did that do him, though?” Grace asked.

  Lincoln sighed heavily. “We had an argument just before it happened, a stupid little thing that didn’t mean anything. Well, good old Pete took offense, and he skewered me for disagreeing with him.”

  “You must have wanted to kill him,” I said lightly.

  “I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind,” Lincoln said, and then realized what he was saying. “Hold on a second. You’re not trying to hang this on me, are you?”

  “Well, you said yourself that you had a motive.”

  “Maybe so,” Lincoln said, “but I wasn’t the only one, not by far. The man polarized people more than anyone I’ve ever known in my life. There must be a list a mile long of folks who wanted to see him dead.” He turned to Grace. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to talk about him that way to you.”

  “I understand,” Grace said, something she’d been repeating since we’d started our investigation.

  “Could you name anyone besides yourself who might have a motive?” I asked. “Generalities won’t do any good. We need names and concrete reasons they should be considered as suspects.”

  Lincoln leaned back in his chair, and for a second, I worried that it might not take his full weight. “Why should I help you hang some other poor guy? I love donuts as much as the next guy, but they aren’t exactly worth throwing somebody under the bus.”

  “Well,” I said with my brightest smile, “there’s always my mother.”

  He sat up at that point, and the frown suddenly reappeared. “There’s that, but do you have anything else besides donuts to make it worth my while talking to you?”

  “Funny, I thought you’d be eager to give us names of folks we could investigate besides you,” I said with a smile.

  “What makes you two think you can catch a killer, anyway?” he asked. “Neither one of you is a cop.”

  I shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as I could. “We’ve done it before, working with the state police, and on our own.” That might have been stretching things a little, but I could justify it if I had to. After all, we’d helped Chief Martin solve cases before, both with Jake’s assistance and alone.

  That seemed to impress him, at least a little. “At the top of my list would be his brother, Bryan,” Lincoln said.

  “We’ve spoken to him already,” I said. “Anyone else?”

  He nodded as he glanced at Grace, and then quickly looked away. “I don’t have too many other details about his personal life.”

  Grace shook her head. “Mr. Lincoln, if you’re worried about hurting me, don’t. I know about Peter’s dalliances.”

  “I’m sorry to bring it up,” Lincoln said. “But Peter fancied himself a ladies’ man. Why he would go out for hamburgers when he had steak at home is beyond me.”

  Grace didn’t react, so it took all I had not to do so myself. Was this man seriously hitting on Grace right after Peter’s death? He had nerve, I had to give him that.

  “Thank you,” Grace said noncommittally. “Are there any names you can share with us?”

  Lincoln leaned back again, and then began ticking them off on his fingers. “There was a girl named Leah, another one named Kaye, and a pair of older women he had a few flings with that he bragged about when he was drunk. Peter used to say that no woman could resist him, no matter how young or old. He said just recently that he had dates on the same night with a woman in her early twenties and one in her late forties. He wasn’t much of a man, no doubt about it.”

  “Any idea who the older ladies might be?” I asked.

  Lincoln shrugged. “He said something about his landlady, and a friend of hers. Peter bragged that neither one knew he’d been seeing the other. I swear, considering all the women in his life, it’s amazing that he ever got anything done.” He sat up and pushed away from his desk, creating more open space between us. “That’s all I can give you. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, but there’s nothing left to say, and I can’t imagine why we’d ever need to talk again.”

  “If you’d like us to take your name off our suspect list once and for all,” I said, “it’s easy. Just give us your alibi for the night and the next morning when Peter was murdered, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  He was about to comment on my request when his phone rang. He glanced at the number, and then said, “Sorry, but I’ve been waiting for this call. It’s going to be a while, so there’s no need for you to wait.”

  Grace and I got the hint, and stood up together.

  As we did, Lincoln said into his phone, “Hold on one second, please,” and didn’t say another word until we were gone.

  “What do you make of that?” I asked Grace when we were back out in her car.

  “I already knew that Peter was a cheat. Now we’re just discovering how unfaithful a man he really was.”

  “Do you really believe that he was having a fling with Rose White?” I asked.

  “We’ve had two people refer to it, so I’ve got a feeling that it’s probably true.”

  A thought just chilled me. “And her friend? Could he have been talking about Nan? If he was, it gave my new assistant reason of her own to want to see Peter dead.”

  “It could also explain why their friendship broke up. I guess there’s no way to know for sure until you ask her,” Grace said.

  “That’s a conversation I’m not looking forward to,” I admitted.

  “I could do it myself, if you want me to,” Grace volunteered.

  That was the only scenario worse than me doing it on my own. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. Tomorrow will be soon enough, though, don’t you think?”

 
; “Of course,” Grace said.

  “What do you think of Henry Lincoln? Could he have murdered Peter?”

  Grace didn’t even need time to consider it. “Peter may well have ruined him, so yes, I think the man has his own reasons for wanting him dead. Besides, we don’t have an alibi for him, so there’s no way to check whether he has someone covering for him or not. Until we find out where he was when Peter was murdered, his name stays on our list.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “In the meantime, who do we talk to next?”

  I thought about it, and then realized there was one name that kept coming back to the top of my list. “I think we should find Bryan and see just how deeply his hatred for his brother ran.”

  “I’m game if you are, but I’ve got to warn you, I doubt he’ll be pleasant.”

  “You mean he could be ruder than he was before?” I asked.

  “Trust me, he was on his best behavior then,” Grace said.

  “Oh, boy. I can’t wait. Do you know where he lives?”

  “Actually, it’s not that far from here,” Grace said.

  “Then let’s go.”

  * * *

  We found Bryan working in his driveway. He had portable tables set up under a canvas canopy with plain metal legs and a sand-colored top that blocked the sun. Under the tables were the bags and boxes of things we’d taken from Peter’s apartment, and he was currently sorting through the bags that Grace and I both knew contained nothing but trash.

  “So, you got it after all. Good,” I said as we approached, trying my best to look cheerful. “We were hoping that Rose would change her mind.”

  “Rose had nothing to do with it,” Bryan said smugly. “My lawyer went over there with me and made her turn it over. I’m the executor of his estate, so I’m in charge, not her, and not anyone else.”

  If he was looking for a fight, I wasn’t about to give him one. I was there for answers, not a verbal sparring match. I looked over the garbage and asked in a voice as interested as I could make it, “So, have you found anything?”

  He looked disgusted by the piles, and I could see that he’d at least laid layers of newspapers down before he’d gotten started. “No, you were right about that,” he conceded grudgingly. “It’s all garbage.”

  “Hey, you never know. You might have found something important that the rest of us missed,” I said. “It was smart of you to double-check after us.” I was doing all I could to appease the man, and Grace caught on.

  She smiled at him and said, “If you’re finished with this, we can help you bag it all up again.”

  “That would be great,” Bryan said. Apparently he was pretty amiable when everyone did exactly what he wanted. Then again, who wasn’t?

  Grace and I grabbed trash bags and started working. We had the mess rebagged in no time. “Where would you like these?”

  “Just take ’em to the curb. Tomorrow’s trash day.”

  We did as he asked, and when we got back to the tables, he was wiping them down using spray cleaner and paper towels. Once they were clean, Grace and I dried them off, and I grabbed the first box.

  “What are you doing?” Bryan asked.

  “We’re just trying to help.”

  He took the box from me, and then he put it back where it had been. “Thanks for your offer, but I’m taking a break before I dig into those.”

  “Bryan, we’ve already seen what’s in them, remember?” I reminded him.

  He nodded. “I know, but this is thirsty work. Either one of you care for a beer?”

  I shook my head. “No, but a Coke would be great.”

  “I just have Pepsi,” he said.

  “Pepsi’s fine,” Grace said.

  “Be back in a second.”

  He walked into the house, and as he was retrieving our drinks, I asked Grace, “Any thoughts on how to approach him? How much harder can we push him?”

  “Bryan never was one for subtlety,” Grace said. “I’m beginning to think that we should tell him what we’re doing up front, and ask him to help us find his brother’s killer.”

  I was surprised by the suggestion. “Do you think he’d actually respond to that?”

  “Not a chance,” Grace said, laughing just a little. “But how is he going to be able to refuse us, unless he’s the killer himself? We might not get anything out of him, but we might just get some answers.”

  “That’s a smart idea,” I said.

  “I have my moments.”

  Bryan walked back out with four cans: two sodas for us, and two beers for him. “It’s getting kind of warm out here,” he said.

  “April does that,” I answered. After we’d all taken drinks, I said, “You’re probably wondering why we’re here.”

  “You’re snooping,” he said, and then took another sip.

  I was about to protest, when Grace spoke up. “That’s right,” she agreed. “We’re going to find out who killed your brother, and we came to you for help. You probably want the murderer found even more than we do.”

  Bryan took a drink, whether because he was thirsty, or because he wanted to buy some time to think, I didn’t know. After he finished a long swallow, he said, “Sure, of course I do. What can I do to help?”

  “Who do you know who might have wanted to see your brother dead?” Grace asked softly.

  “Who didn’t? Seriously, between his business and his love life, the man was a mess. I don’t know why our folks always thought that he was the one who would turn out the best. I’m going to miss him, there’s no doubt about that. But I don’t have any names for you. Sorry, there’s really nothing I can do.”

  “Well, you can let us take your name off our list so we can focus on who really killed your brother,” I said. “Do you have an alibi for the night he was murdered, and the early morning hours afterward?”

  Bryan looked at me angrily. “Are you harping on that again? I can’t believe you think I’d kill my own brother.”

  “It happens, no matter how much people don’t like to acknowledge it,” I said. “So, where were you?”

  “I was with a friend of mine all night until six the next morning,” Bryan said.

  “A woman?” I asked him.

  “It sure wasn’t a dude,” Bryan said with a bit of a laugh.

  “Tell us her name,” Grace said. “And we can clear it up in a heartbeat.”

  “It’s not that easy,” Bryan said. “She doesn’t want me spreading her name around any more than I have to. I already told the cops. If you want to find out, go ask them.”

  This was all news to me, but then again, the chief of police didn’t exactly keep me updated on how his murder investigations were progressing, despite how much I wished that he would. “If you told him, you can share it with us. We’re discreet,” I said.

  Bryan shook his head. “Listen, she’s ticked off at me enough already without having you two snooping around in this mess.” He looked at the boxes, and then said, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll tackle the rest of these myself.”

  “We’d be glad to help,” I said, but Bryan just shook his head.

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  * * *

  After we left Bryan to his boxes, we made our way out of the neighborhood.

  I asked Grace, “Is it just me, or do you feel we’re being stonewalled everywhere we turn? Why won’t people give us their alibis? All they seem to want to do is point fingers at everyone else.”

  “Can you really blame them?” Grace asked. “Most of them probably don’t even have alibis. Peter was last seen when, exactly?”

  “The last I heard, it was between ten at night and five the next morning when the police found him,” I said.

  “Now, think about how many people are home alone during those hours. Not everyone keeps your crazy schedule, so they probably weren’t all asleep, but I’m guessing most of them were home alone. It’s a tough alibi to prove or disprove.”

  “Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” I said, s
truck by sudden inspiration. “Who was the last person who admitted to seeing Peter alive?”

  “Do you mean besides me? I’m guessing that has to be Trish. She threw him out of the Boxcar Grill for being drunk and disorderly.” Grace paused, and then asked, “You don’t think she had anything to do with Peter’s murder, do you?”

  “Of course not,” I answered, not even giving the question the dignity of the least amount of thought. “If there are four people in the world I know are innocent besides me, she’s one of them.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, Grace asked, “Did I make the list?”

  “Of course you did,” I said, trying my best to reassure her.

  “Then who else is on it? I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure that Momma didn’t do it, and I could swear under oath that Jake didn’t kill him.”

  Grace whistled as she pulled over to the curb. “And everyone else in town is a suspect?”

  I smiled. “Not just in April Springs. I’d have to say that we have a ten-county radius of potential killers.”

  “That’s not going to make it easy finding the murderer then, is it?”

  “Hey, don’t give up on me. If it were that easy, everyone would be able to do it,” I said.

  Grace’s car was still idling, and she reached into the backseat, flipped open the donut box lid, and selected one of the last few remaining treats. After she took a bite, she asked, “We’re not going to need these, are we?”

  “Help yourself,” I said. “If you don’t mind driving while you eat, why don’t we go to the Boxcar Grill and see if we can get Trish alone? I want to hear every detail about what happened when she threw Peter out, and more importantly, who else was at the diner when she did.”

  “They didn’t necessarily have to be eating there,” Grace said.

  “No, but what good does it do us to assume that it was someone else lurking in the shadows? It’s going to be a lot harder to find the killer if they weren’t even around the Boxcar the night of the murder, so we might as well work on the assumption that they were there as well.”

  “Okay, at least it sounds like a plan, but I have another thought.”