by Jessica Beck
“Dad was wondering if he could come by on our break and talk to you about what happened,” she said, her words rushing out of her. “You can say no, but I promised him that I’d ask, so I’ve fulfilled my part of our bargain.”
“Sure. Why not?” I asked. After all, the case was over and done with, at least as far as the authorities were concerned.
“Seriously? You don’t mind?” she asked a bit incredulously.
I thought about it for a few moments, and then I nodded my confirmation. The case was officially closed, there was no murder involved, and for once I hadn’t been dragged into holding my own investigation because of circumstances. If anything, I was just an innocent bystander.
Well, innocent enough, at any rate. “I don’t mind, but I’m not sure what I can tell him,” I confessed.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. The fact that you’re willing to do it in the first place means a lot to me and Mom.” Emma’s mother, Sharon, had become nearly as visible a presence at Donut Hearts as we were. After all, in my absence, she ran the front while Emma made the donuts, so I was happy I could please both of the women who made my work life so much easier.
“It’s my pleasure,” I said. I glanced at the clock and saw that we were very nearly due to take our break together. “Do you need to call him first and tell him the news?”
Emma failed to hide her slight blush. “Actually, all I have to do is flip the front light on. If he sees it, he’ll know you agreed. If the place stays dark, he won’t bother us.”
“That’s a nice system you’ve worked out there,” I said. “Why don’t you go ahead and turn the light on, then?”
“Thanks. I will,” Emma said as she pulled her hands out of the soapy water. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, I began to wonder if I should open myself up to the newspaperman after all. Ray Blake and I had endured more than our share of disagreements in the past, though lately we’d been trying to play nice, given the fact that Emma and Sharon were both parts of our everyday lives. In the end, I realized that it just didn’t matter that much to me. I’d help him now, and that would give me leverage to say no the next time, if I ever happened to investigate another murder, which I sincerely hoped never came up. I would be perfectly satisfied if I never saw or had to deal with another dead body again for the rest of my life.
Emma came back in a flash. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
The dough was still mixing on its first go-round, so I took a moment to clean up my workspace a bit before I turned the mixer off. Emma wasn’t nearly as keen on cleaning as she went as I was, but it was the only way I seemed to be able to get anything done in my kitchen when I was in charge.
The timer finally went off, and after flipping the switch and removing the hook, I covered the bowl with plastic wrap and reset the timer. “Are you ready to head outside?”
“I’m right behind you,” she said as she pulled the last clean bowl out of the suds, rinsed it off, and put it in the drying rack with all the others. Making donuts tended to generate a great many dirty pots and pans, especially when I was creating the cake donuts. I always made a large batch of basic batter, and then I divided it into smaller portions so I could create all of the individual flavors of cake donuts we were offering for the day. I wondered sometimes if my customers had any idea how much work went into making their favorite treats, but to be fair, I loved my Jeep, but I had no idea how long it had taken to make, nor did I even care. All that mattered to me was that it ran when I needed it to and didn’t give me too many problems along the way.
Could we expect anything more from our delightful donuts?
Chapter 6
“THANKS FOR DOING THIS, Suzanne,” Ray said the moment Emma and I stepped outside the shop. The mornings were definitely getting warmer, and soon we’d be in the full bloom of summer, where it was less than comfortable even at four o’clock in the morning.
“Would you like me to leave you two alone while you chat?” Emma asked us.
“You’re fine right where you are,” Ray told his daughter quickly.
“I was talking to Suzanne,” she corrected him.
“Of course you were,” he replied.
“It’s fine,” I said. “We won’t be long. There’s really not all that much to talk about.”
“I beg to differ,” Ray said as he brought out a small notebook and started flipping through page after page of his sloppy scribbling. “I’ve got at least an hour’s worth of questions here.”
“I’m not sure how that’s going to work. We have ten minutes, and then Emma and I have to get back to work. I suggest you hit the highlights,” I said.
“I’m not sure I can,” Ray said in dismay.
“Dad, she’s doing you a favor. Don’t forget that,” Emma reminded him.
“Of course.” He studied his notes for another ten seconds before he got started in earnest. “Suzanne, how did you first discover that something illegal was going on in your home?”
Wow, was that a leading question. If the tone of his article was that biased, I was going to have to shut this interview down on the spot. “First of all, it wasn’t at my home. It occurred at a house my family is renovating between April Springs and Union Square.”
“That’s what I meant,” Ray corrected me, clearly unhappy with my response.
“That may be, but it’s not what you said,” I told him.
“Let me start again,” he said after taking a deep breath. “How did you happen to discover the counterfeit money at the house you and your family are remodeling?”
It was clear that Ray was already composing his story in his mind, but I tried not to let that bother me. “Momma and I were cleaning out the loft yesterday afternoon after Jake and Phillip tackled the first floor. There were a ton of old newspapers up there, and as we were throwing a stack of them out the window into the dumpster below, I saw some twenties floating through the air. We kept digging and found quite a few more.”
“Could you tell initially that they were fake?” he asked me.
“No, at least I couldn’t, but as soon as Jake and Phillip got there, they knew almost immediately. Then again, both men were seasoned lawmen before they retired.” I was paying my stepfather quite a compliment by linking what he’d done with my husband’s career, but I didn’t see the harm in it.
“What did your mother think of the discovery?”
“You’ll have to ask her that yourself,” I replied. There was no way I was going to speak for my mother in any way, shape, or form, especially when it would probably end up in the newspaper.
“Okay, next question. Exactly how much did you find?”
“I’m not sure, exactly,” I said. That wasn’t true; I knew because Jake and Phillip had told me. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to share that bit of information with Ray Blake.
“Guess,” Ray said, and then waited patiently for me to answer.
“It was somewhere in the neighborhood of four hundred dollars,” I finally admitted. “That’s all I’m willing to say.”
“What were the denominations?”
“All of them were twenties,” I answered.
Ray took a few notes, then he flipped to his next question. “What did you do after you discovered the money?”
“I told you that already. I called Jake, and Momma called Phillip.”
“No, I mean after the four of you determined that the money was counterfeit,” he said, pushing me on it just a bit.
“We called an old contact of Jake’s at the Secret Service. They handle counterfeiting, just in case you weren’t aware of it.”
“Of course I am,” Ray said absently as he took another note.
“Well, I didn’t know that,” Emma said. “That’s interesting. You’d think it was part of the treasury or something.”
“That’s what I thought too. The Secret Service used to be under them, but they’re under Homeland Security now.”
“Suzanne, I already know all
of that,” Ray said impatiently.
“I didn’t, though,” Emma replied, frowning at her father. “Dad, how am I going to learn if I don’t ask questions? Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”
It was clear that was exactly something Ray had told his daughter a thousand times before in the past, but he didn’t seem to like having his words thrown back at him, especially at the moment. “Are there any suspects?” he asked me, ignoring his daughter’s query.
“You honestly don’t know?” I asked, surprised.
“Know what?”
“They’ve already made an arrest.”
Ray Blake nearly dropped his pen. “What? When did that happen?”
I suddenly realized that I might have just said too much. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information,” I said, echoing something my husband used to say concerning things he wasn’t at liberty to talk about. “You’ll have to get a statement from the Secret Service. Anyway, that’s all I know. I hope it helps.”
“More than you realize,” Ray said. “Any idea what the name of the agent in charge is?”
“Courtney Blaze,” I said. “I don’t know where she’s staying, but she did say she’d be close by for the next few days.” As I said that last bit, my timer went off. “Sorry, but we’re out of time. Emma, are you ready to get back to work?”
“But I’m not finished yet,” the newspaperman protested.
“Ray, there’s honestly nothing else I can tell you.” That wasn’t true at all, but I was beginning to regret revealing the arrest, especially since I wasn’t all that sure it had been a valid one to begin with.
“Fine,” he said, slapping his notebook shut. “Thanks for your time.” That last bit was said in a hard and robotic voice, and his level of sincerity was obviously pretty low.
“Dad,” Emma said as she stood. “Thank her.”
“I just did,” Ray protested.
“Sure, but this time, try to sound as though you mean it,” Emma insisted.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He turned back to me and added, “I really appreciate you taking the time to talk with me, Suzanne. I know how much your breaks with my daughter mean to the both of you.”
“You’re right there,” I said with a smile. “Come on. Let’s go,” I said as I turned back to Emma.
“Right behind you, boss,” Emma said. As she passed by her father, I saw her smile at him and reach out to touch his hand before she left him standing outside alone. I wouldn’t have believed it, but she was actually managing to get her father to act a bit more civilized, though it was clear he still had a long way to go.
“Thanks for that,” Emma said once we were back in the kitchen and she had added more hot water to the sink. “He means well. You know that, don’t you?”
“Hey, he helped produce a daughter like you,” I said with a slight grin. “In my book, that buys him quite a bit of goodwill.”
“It’s appreciated,” she said. “Now let’s make the rest of our donuts so our customers will be fat and happy by the end of the day.”
“We’re not responsible for every ounce of extra weight they put on,” I told her.
“You know what I mean,” she answered.
As we both got back to work, I found myself wondering just how long Agent Blaze would be in town and if she honestly believed she’d caught the real counterfeiter herself. I tried to imagine why she’d claim that if she didn’t believe it, and then I realized that if she knew that she was dealing with someone crafty enough to spring her trap, they might be a little harder to catch than she first thought. If she arrested, or even held, Slick Willie for a while, maybe the counterfeiter would let his guard down and she could swoop in and catch the real crook.
At least that was what I hoped was happening.
Otherwise, I was afraid an innocent man was going to go to jail for a very long time for a crime he hadn’t even committed.
It was six a.m., and we were ready to open the shop for the day. When I walked out front to turn the lights on and unlock the front door, I was surprised to see a familiar face standing there impatiently waiting for me to open.
At least she was familiar as of the day before.
“Did you change your mind about that free donut?” I asked Agent Blaze as she walked into Donut Hearts.
Emma had trailed behind me, but the moment she saw the agent’s pained expression, my assistant ducked back into the kitchen before she had taken more than one step toward me.
“No donuts, no. I’m here on official business,” she said curtly. “Did you or did you not tell one Ray Blake that we’d made an arrest in the counterfeiting case?”
“You told me that last night,” I said in my own defense. “I just sort of assumed it was public knowledge.”
“I told your husband in confidence, and I expected you to respect that,” she said tersely.
“Then maybe you should have told me that as well,” I said. “What’s the harm? You got your man, right? Or did you?”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked me sharply.
“Just that if you’re trying to lull the real culprit into dropping his guard, having it printed up in the newspaper might work in your favor, wouldn’t it? Or am I completely wrong about you?”
Agent Blaze hesitated a bare second, and I knew that I never wanted to play poker with this woman. She was too good at hiding her true feelings. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s too bad,” I said.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked me sharply. “I’ve given you some leeway given your connections to Officer Bishop, but don’t push it too far.”
“It’s just Jake these days, as you well know,” I reminded her. “I never gave Ray a name. In fact, I told him to speak with you directly about the entire incident. I’m assuming he found you.”
“I was having my breakfast at the Boxcar Grill, as a matter of fact,” she said. “I didn’t like being ambushed by a reporter like that.”
“It’s no fun, is it? I can’t tell you the number of times he’s done the same thing to me.”
This woman clearly did not know how to take me. “I trust you’ll be a little more discreet in the future?”
“We can always hope,” I said without changing my expression.
Agent Blaze took that in for a moment, then she turned and walked out of my shop without saying another word. I briefly considered waving her down and shoving a bag of donuts and a cup of coffee into her hands, but in the end I decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valor.
It was a curious exchange, and I couldn’t wait to talk to Jake about it, but there was no time to call him just yet.
Suddenly I had a crowd of people descending on my donut shop, and after all, that was why I was in business in the first place, to serve my customers and to take their money for the privilege.
Jake and I would talk later though, that much was certain.
I would probably get a lecture from him, too.
Some days it just didn’t pay to try to do a good deed.
Chapter 7
“I CAN GUARANTEE YOU that particular twenty is good, Suzanne. It better be; I made it myself this morning,” Harry Dale said as he handed me a twenty to pay for his morning treats and coffee. I did my best to offer a brief, if insincere smile, but it was the fourth time I’d heard it that morning, and it was already getting old. As I’d suspected, word had gotten out quickly about what we’d found at the flip house, and my customers weren’t about to let it go without taking a shot or two at humor.
I pulled out my counterfeit testing pen and ran it across the bill, all the while smiling. “I must say, you do fine work.”
Harry frowned for a moment. “I was just kidding, Suzanne. I’d never try to pass a counterfeit bill.”
“I know that, Harry, but who knows where you got this one? With what’s been going on around here, it just pays to be careful, don’t you think?”
; Harry pondered that as I gave him his change. After he took his change from me, he asked softly, “Where do you get one of those pens? Are they very expensive?”
“I bought mine at the hardware store,” I told him. “It cost more than a regular pen, but then again, it only has to work once to more than pay for itself.”
I had a hunch there was going to be a run on those pens in the next few days. We were all a little wary at the moment, even though it appeared that the counterfeiting was over. Who knew how many bills had already been spent, though? I planned on checking anything over a five for the next month, and I needed to remind Emma to do the same.
Grace came in as Harry left. It was good to see my best friend. “Coffee and a cruller?” It had become her usual order, at least for the moment.
“If you’ll make it for the road,” she said with a grimace. “I’m going out of town for a few days.”
“Trouble?” I asked her. I knew her work was usually pretty undemanding, but there were times when she had to put in more hours than I did, if you counted her travel time, at any rate.
“No, we’ve got a conference on the Outer Banks.” The OBX, as some folks called the chain of barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina, were beautiful, if becoming way overdeveloped. I remembered when I’d been a young girl and my folks had taken me there on vacation one summer. I’d been amazed by the miles and miles of open dunes along the coast, the sea grass waving in the constant breeze. The place had fascinated me. Jake and I had taken a brief vacation there a year ago, and I’d been stunned by the transformation. There may have still been stretches of pristine shorefront property in existence there, but if there were, we hadn’t seen them. I didn’t have any problem with progress per se, but I had missed the isolated beaches from my memory, replaced by house after house after house, all on stilts, all crammed in like sixteen donuts in a box meant to hold only twelve.
“You don’t sound all that excited,” I told her.
“I love the beach, but we’re going to all be staying in some McMansion on the water with nine bedrooms. It’s supposed to be a teambuilding exercise for the sales managers, but my best work-friend just left us for a competitor, and I don’t really care for the rest of my coworkers.”