Pumpkin Pleas (The Donut Mysteries Book 26)

by Beck,Jessica

  Once he was gone, I asked, “So, why all the mystery, Ray?”

  “Suzanne, did we speak last night? I mean this morning? At the donut shop when you got there?”

  “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

  Ray shook his head. “I had the oddest feeling that we had, that I was at the donut shop last night, and we talked for a few minutes before you started working. Are you sure?”

  “Ray, given all that’s happened, it’s not likely that I’d forget something like that,” I said.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t, but I clearly did.” He reached up a hand and touched the bandage on his head lightly. “I’ve still got a headache, even with the meds I’m on, and my mind is just a jumbled mess.”

  “Do they know what happened?”

  “Apparently I hit my head on a rock, but that’s all anyone is willing to admit,” he explained. “I don’t remember any of it. Funny, but I’m usually pretty sure-footed. I can’t imagine tripping and falling, but that’s the doctor’s best guess.”

  “Ray, were you at Laurel Falls yesterday evening just before dark?”

  He frowned. “Not that I recall. I can’t imagine going up there on my own. I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m not a big fan of heights.”

  “I didn’t know that, or if I had, I must have forgotten it.” I needed to stop saying that. Every time I used the word “forgot,” it seemed to act as some kind of trigger for Ray, not that I could blame him. If I’d had a chunk carved out of my recent memory, I’d probably be sensitive about it as well. “Ray, do you remember writing this?” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my folded copy of his note to Tom. The moment Jake had told me that I was being summoned to Ray’s bedside, I knew that I needed to bring it with me.

  The newspaperman glanced at it, and then he nodded. “Yes. I remember leaving it. I’d uncovered something about Tom’s recent past, and I wanted to ask him about it. He wouldn’t see me, though I suspected he was inside the cottage while I pounded away on the front door. I scrawled a quick note on my card and slid it under his door, but it didn’t do any good. He tore it up and threw it away, didn’t he?”

  “I found it in the trashcan,” I admitted. “Do you happen to remember what you discovered?”

  “I wish I could, but it’s all still a blank. It’s odd. Things seem to come and go even past the sixteen hours I lost completely. One second I’ll have it, and the next it will be gone.”

  “Ray, do you keep notes on your stories?” I asked him.

  “I do,” he admitted. “They’re gone. Jake looked for me, but he couldn’t find them among my things. Suzanne, if I was working on a story, I would have had a notebook on me, guaranteed.”

  Something about that sent a chill through me. “What do you suppose happened to it? Do you think someone might have taken it?”

  “I don’t know. For all I know, I might have hidden it myself.”

  “Why would you do that?” I asked him.

  “Clearly I found something that I didn’t want anyone else to know about.” He paused, took a sip of ice water, and then added, “Including me.”

  “Where should I look for it?” I asked him. I’d already told him that I hadn’t seen him the night before, and he’d just about lost interest in talking to me as soon as I’d told him that I hadn’t seen him. That didn’t mean that I was finished with him yet, though. “Could it be in your office?”

  “I have no memory of it, but if you want to have a look around, there’s a key on top of the gutter downspout near the back door. I keep it there for emergencies.”

  “You’d really be okay with me taking a look?” I asked him.

  “You’d be doing me a favor,” he said. “The sooner I get my memory back, the better.”

  I had another copy of something in my pocket, one of the button and shirt fragment I’d found on the trail. “Does this look familiar?”

  He studied it for a second, and then he handed it back to me. “No, should it?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Where did you find it?”

  I hesitated telling him, and then I realized that it wouldn’t do any harm. “It was on the trail to the falls, and it looked as though it had just been torn off someone’s shirt. Don’t worry. Jake’s already checked your clothes. It wasn’t from anything you were wearing.”

  “Let me see it again,” Tom said, reaching for the color copy. After I handed it to him, he looked at it again. “I’ve seen this shirt before. As a matter of fact, I think it used to be mine.”

  “Used to be?” I asked him.

  “I donated it to the thrift store six months ago. What does it mean?”

  “I’m not sure yet. You’re certain you donated it?”

  “Right now I could barely swear to my name. Ask Sharon. She’ll know for sure.”

  “Okay. Listen, I’m sorry that I couldn’t help,” I said. “You were smart to get Jake to help you piece your memory back together. If anyone can help you do it, it’s my husband.”

  “I hope he has better luck than he has so far,” Ray said. He must have been feeling better, because there was a hint of acid in his voice as he said it. If he’d been truly hurting, I suspected that he would have been nicer.

  There was a knock at the door, and Sharon came back in carrying a tray. “Dear, you’ve got to try this. It’s wondrous.”

  “What is it?” he asked. “Is it okay with the doctor?”

  “He thought it might do you some good,” Sharon said, and then she turned to me. “Are you two finished here?”

  “For now,” I said. “Feel better, Ray.”

  “Thanks for coming, Suzanne.”

  “I’m just sorry I couldn’t help.”

  “You tried. That’s all you can do.”

  Then I remembered the image of the shirt fragment. “Sharon, does this ring any bells with you?”

  She took one look at the copy and then handed it back to me. “It used to belong to Ray, but I donated it to the thrift store, along with a dozen other shirts I couldn’t stand. Why? Is it important?”

  “It could be,” I said. “I don’t know yet. You’re certain?”

  “Positive. That shirt has been out of my house for a good six months. I remember, because I purged his closet right before our anniversary.” She looked back at her husband. “Remember?”

  “I’m not about to forget the Great Closet Purging,” he said with a smile for his wife.

  So, it had once belonged to Ray, but now who knew who had it? It might mean something, but then again, it might be just another false clue sending me galloping off in the wrong direction.

  Only time would tell, and I felt as though that was one commodity I was quickly running out of.

  Chapter 18

  Jake was waiting for me when I walked out. “Anything?”

  “No, it’s all still a big blank. He’s feeling better, though.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “He got snippy with me that you couldn’t find more than you have,” I said with a grin.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right. He’s not completely wrong. Ray doesn’t exactly dance through life in the shadows. You’d have thought that someone had seen him.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out.”

  “I hope so.”

  “There’s one more thing. He recognized the shirt and button fragment.”

  “It wasn’t from his clothes,” Jake said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “Sharon confirms that he donated it to the thrift store six months ago, so anybody could have it now.”

  “Anybody that shops at the thrift store,” he said.

  “Is it a coincidence, or is it a real clue?” I asked him.

  “I have no idea at this point.
Are you ready to go home?”

  “After we pick up our order,” I told him with a smile. “You don’t mind eating leftovers for the next few days, do you? I’m not thrilled about freezing such a masterpiece.”

  “I was about to suggest the same thing. I don’t think I could ever get tired of that cooking.” He paused before adding, “Not that your meals aren’t great, too.”

  “Spare me,” I said with a laugh. “I’d rather eat his food, too.” I suddenly realized that in all of the commotion, I’d forgotten to tell Jake about the pictures on Tom’s camera. But first I needed to tell him that Ray had given us permission to search his newspaper office.

  When I told him the news, he seemed surprised. “Did you get the key somehow? I asked him about it earlier, but he said that he’d lost his wallet and keys, including the ones to his office and his home.”

  “He has a spare. Did he not tell you about that?” I asked.

  “No, but to be fair, he was still pretty fuzzy the last time we spoke. I’m guessing that his mind is finally clearing up.”

  “Maybe so. Do you feel like going over there with me? After we drop these packages off at home first, that is. I know it’s chilly out, but I don’t want to take any chances. I want these containers safe in our fridge.”

  “Yes, that would be great.”

  Was there a hint of hesitation in his voice as he said it? “You don’t mind if I go with you to the newspaper office, do you? I know Ray’s disappearance is your case, but if we can find his notes on Tom Thorndike, it might help me out as well.”

  “Sure. That makes sense.” If my husband was unhappy about me going with him, he wasn’t going to tell me. Ordinarily I would have declined to go with him if I thought it might not please him, but this was too important. Something in Ray’s notes might reveal what had really happened to Tom, and I couldn’t afford to miss the chance to find out one way or the other.

  After dropping the food in our fridge back home, Jake and I headed straight for the newspaper office. I’d been there before, but it was never a space I was all that comfortable in. I hated clutter as a general rule, but I doubted that Ray Blake could think straight without it. We parked and got out, and I found the key, just as promised.

  Instead of opening the door myself though, I handed it to Jake and said, “Be my guest.”

  “Suzanne, I don’t have to be the first one inside.”

  “Nonsense. It’s your investigation. I just appreciate you letting me tag along with you.”

  Jake grinned at me, and I suddenly felt better about everything. “We both know that you don’t tag along anywhere. If I’m not quick enough getting through the door, I have a feeling I’m going to get run over.”

  “Then be quick, and we won’t have to find out,” I said with a laugh.

  The newspaper office hadn’t changed much since I’d been there last. It was always in such a messy state that if someone ransacked the place as they had done in Tom’s cottage, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell. Besides stacks of old newspapers, there were reference books on just about everything scattered throughout the space. Had Ray never heard of the Internet? The office was a fire hazard, and I was relieved to see water sprinklers featured prominently overhead. Ray had a small personal office off to one side, and it was no better than the rest of the place.

  As Jake and I walked through the open door, he whistled softly to himself. “How can anyone work in all of this chaos?”

  “I know I couldn’t do it,” I said as I approached his large desk. “Is this a door?” I asked as I knocked on the wood. Sure enough, Ray hadn’t spent any money on a conventional desk. Instead, two small file cabinets served as a support for a door salvaged from somewhere else on the property. “You know what? This is actually kind of handy.”

  “Cheap, too,” Jake said. Besides the litter on the desk and all around on the floor, even the walls were covered with notes. At some point Ray had taken insulating board and had it installed on two of his walls. Pinned to this shiny foil-covered board were notes on stories he was working on, at least so I presumed. The mayor appeared to be one of his favorite topics: several handwritten notes featured George Morris prominently. What did he have against my friend? Maybe it was simply the fact that he was mayor, but I didn’t like some of the notes he’d made.

  “Did the mayor buy his own truck, or did someone give it to him as a bribe? Is he hiding money in one of those foreign accounts I keep hearing about? When he was a cop, was he ever accused of police brutality? Dig into this!”

  The notes offended me to the core, and I hoped that George never had cause to read any of them. Anyone who saw the mayor’s truck would never suspect that it could have been a bribe. As to having money in foreign bank accounts, I couldn’t imagine the man’s net worth reaching five figures. The brutality question struck me as being particularly harsh. I had faith in George’s character, and I couldn’t even fathom the possibility that he’d ever used undue force on someone. “Can you believe all of this?”

  Jake read the notes, and then he shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not all that surprised.”

  I looked hard at my husband, since he was friends with the mayor as well. “Doesn’t this make you angry?”

  “Suzanne, I’ve heard worse things about me that news people have said directly to my face. It’s part of the world George lives in. The higher you are on the ladder, the clearer shot your critics have at you.”

  “Wow, I’m glad I’m just a donutmaker.”

  “You, my love, are anything but just a donutmaker,” he said with a slight smile.

  “Thank you, but it still makes me angry.”

  “I can’t do anything about that,” he said as he started pawing through the stacks on Ray’s desk. “If there’s a clue hidden somewhere here, I can’t imagine where it’s hiding.”

  “This is hopeless, isn’t it?” I asked, agreeing with him.

  “I wouldn’t say that. It’s just going to take some grunt work.”

  “Why doesn’t that fact discourage you as much as it does me?” I asked as I picked up a stack at random. According to the top sheet, it appeared that Ray had been looking into the possibility that a mysterious millionaire was buying up property in April Springs for nefarious purposes. As I scanned the list of places recently purchased written in bold, I recognized some of them. My mother was our own answer to a land baron in our part of the world. I didn’t have an inkling as to the vast expanse of her holdings, but I had a hunch that she’d been involved in at least some of the transactions that had clearly alarmed Ray. Momma liked to treat properties in town as though they were part of some complex game of Monopoly. Did Ray honestly believe that her motives were sinister? If he did, I hoped that he never found out the true extent of her holdings.

  “It’s kind of what I’ve always done,” Jake said. “A large part of being a good cop is being stubborn and never giving up, no matter what the odds.”

  “It’s an admirable trait, just one that I’ve never developed myself.”

  “I’m afraid we’re in for a long night,” Jake said. “If you need to go home and get some sleep before your early morning starts tomorrow, I don’t mind wading into this alone.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll hang around a little while longer,” I said. I stood there with my back against the door, and on a whim, I started swinging it back and forth. As I moved it, I noticed that something had been attached to the side that would close off the room from the outside. Swinging the door fully closed, I found myself suddenly staring at a whiteboard filled with notes about Tom Thorndike!

  “Will you look at that,” Jake said as he took in what I’d just found. “Good work, Suzanne.”

  “Don’t give me too much credit,” I said as I studied the scrawls written on it. “It was sheer dumb luck that I even found it at all.”


  “That’s another part of police work most cops don’t like to talk about,” he said with a grin. “Let’s see if we can make any sense of it.”

  The whiteboard was three feet by five feet, and someone had permanently screwed it to the door. In the center was a small circle with spokes radiating from it in a dozen different directions, but scrawled in the middle of it was the name T. Thorndike.

  As I started following different paths, Jake asked, “Would you mind stepping back for a second? I want to get a photo of this.”

  That was a great idea. I took a few shots myself, enlarging the shot until I could get all of the board in focus. After we finished, I asked, “Any idea about how we should tackle this?”

  “Carefully,” Jake said as we both approached it again. “This spoke has Mitchell Bloom’s name on the line. Below that, with what I’m assuming are Ray’s theories, is that Tom and Mitchell committed some kind of crime together.” After a moment’s pause, he tapped the board with his index finger. “What does that say?” Jake asked as he squinted at the board. “Does it say, ‘he’s it’?”

  “I think it’s supposed to be one word, ‘heist’,” I said. “Was there a heist around here that I don’t know about?”

  “Nothing comes to mind, but we’ll keep it under consideration,” Jake said. “Here’s one with George’s name on it. Why am I not surprised?”

  It immediately raised my blood pressure knowing that the newspaperman was trying to rope the mayor in on yet another wild theory of his. “What does it say?”

  Jake squinted, and then he read, “It appears to claim that Tom got his money by blackmailing the mayor about something in his past.”

  “Where is George supposed to have gotten all this money in the first place?” I asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Jake said, trying to shield me from the board.