Dark Drizzles

by Jessica Beck

  “That’s just the way I like you,” he said gently, touched her cheek lightly with the back of his hand, and then the police chief left the diner after dropping a ten at the register for Trish without even waiting for his change.

  “You’ve changed him, Grace. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve actually softened the hardness he’s had about him lately.”

  “He’s not the only one who’s softened,” she said a bit wistfully. “Enough of that mushy nonsense. What’s next on our agenda?”

  “First, we finish this delicious meal,” I said as I took another bite of hamburger. Sometimes I got bored with a meal that was all the same thing, and I believed that Trish had just found the answer to that particular problem, as long as I wasn’t eating by myself. After all, someone had to get the other half of my burger. I certainly couldn’t eat an entire one by myself and still manage to polish off half a serving of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. “Then I need to take a break from sleuthing and make sure Emma and Sharon can set up my donutmaking exhibition on stage after the panel is over. I’m guessing we’ll have about half an hour to keep digging during the book-signing event, and then I have to show anyone who cares to see it how easy and how much fun it is to make donuts.”

  “Aren’t you worried about flying solo on that one? What if no one else shows up?” she asked me.

  “I’m not too worried about it. If it were anything else, maybe I would, but since I can just about make donuts in my sleep, I should be fine. I’m sorry it won’t give us a great deal of time to investigate more, though.”

  “No apologies needed,” Grace replied. “We have a few things going for us, anyway.”

  “Really? I’d love to hear anything that’s working in our favor at the moment,” I said as I continued to eat.

  “Well, you’re in control of that panel, so if you want to press your writers on anything they were reticent to share with us in private, it’s certainly an option. I know you don’t like blindsiding any of them, but we’re running out of time and the opportunity to talk to them.”

  “That’s true enough,” I said. “I feel as though I’m missing something, though. Do you?”

  “Just another bite of meatloaf,” she said as she loaded her fork again. “Don’t rush it, and it will come to you.”

  “I hope so,” I said.

  “How was everything?” Trish asked as she came back with a pitcher of tea for refills. I was just about overflowing with the stuff, but there was something in me, call it a character weakness if you wanted, that I just couldn’t say no.

  “It was delightful,” I said truthfully as I pulled out my money.

  Grace said, “Suzanne, this is my treat, and given the circumstances, I really don’t think it would be prudent for you to decline.”

  “What circumstances?” Trish asked curiously. “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, trying my best not to mention the robbery. After all, the last thing I wanted was for her to feel sorry for me, and while there was nothing I could do about Grace, I could keep it from Trish, at least for the moment.

  “Don’t tell me, see if I mind,” she said with a grin.

  “Grace, I can afford to pay my own way,” I told her.

  “I know you can, but would you honestly want to deprive me of one of the small pleasures I have in life? I enjoy taking my best friend out to lunch. Is that really such a crime?”

  “No, I just feel guilty about it sometimes,” I said.

  “Well, you’re just going to have to get over that,” she answered with a grin. “Now let’s get back out there and get that demonstration set up.”

  “If you insist,” I said.

  Chapter 19

  As we were walking toward the Donut Hearts sales wagon set up in front of the shop, Grace’s phone went off. After glancing at the caller ID, she said, “I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to get this. My new boss is calling me constantly. I’m regretting being on the panel that chose her. She’s turned out to be so needy.” To the caller she said, “Hey, Stephanie. Sure, I have a minute. It’s okay. Yes, I know I’m on vacation. Yes. I’m sure.” She held her phone to her shoulder and said, “You might as well go on by yourself. This could take a while.”

  As I left her, Grace was deep into explaining something to her new boss in terms that a kindergartner could probably follow, and I had to wonder just how young this woman was. That was one of the benefits of running my own business. While I had to answer to my customers and the government, there was no one directly over me. If I decided to shut the shop down one day on a whim, which I would never do in a million years, I could do it without having to ask anyone else’s permission. At least that was what I kept telling myself in moments of stress about money, my lack of customers, the stubbornness of health inspectors, and a thousand other things that could wipe me out overnight.

  “How’s it going, ladies?” I asked Sharon and Emma as I approached. My assistant was carrying a tray of cake donuts in her arms, and I had to admit that they looked even better than mine had. “Those look wonderful.”

  “Practice makes perfect, right?” she asked me with a grin. “We’re doing great, by the way.”

  “Better than yesterday, as a matter of fact,” Sharon said. “If this keeps up, we should at least be able to cover our expenses for the festival from today’s take alone, even if we don’t get the money back from yesterday.”

  “I’m not giving up on that yet,” I said.

  “Of course you aren’t,” Emma said as she shot her mother a quick glare. “What’s up, Suzanne?”

  “I thought about wheeling this cart up onstage for the donut demonstration, but I’m not sure that will work,” I said. “Any ideas?”

  “You don’t need to make a large production-scale batch, do you?” Emma asked me after a moment’s contemplation.

  “No. We don’t have time for yeast dough either, given the timeframe.”

  “We could do a small batch of yeast donuts now, and you could bring them out when they’re ready to fry,” Sharon said.

  “You can make the cake donuts up on the spot, but it might be nice for them to see both kinds of the donuts we make,” Emma said.

  “It sounds as though you two have a better grasp of what we need to do than I do,” I admitted. “Would you like to give the demonstration yourselves, by any chance?”

  I never got two “nos” so quickly in my life. “It’s not that we don’t want to help out,” Emma explained.

  “We just don’t like speaking in public,” Sharon finished up.

  “No thank you,” Emma reiterated.

  “Got it. That’s a solid no from both of you,” I said with a grin. “How are we going to fry them? If I don’t use the cart, I certainly can’t use our fryer from the shop.”

  “I have a small fryer I bought when I moved out,” Emma said. “That would be perfect, especially if you’re only doing two or three donuts at a time.”

  “I just have to do one of each,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t mind me borrowing it?”

  “I’m happy to do it,” she said, “especially if I don’t have to be the one who goes on stage and uses it.”

  “Okay then, it sounds as though we have all of our bases covered. Do you need any help prepping the stage after my panel is finished?”

  “Oh, we don’t mind going on stage,” Emma said.

  “As long as we don’t have to speak,” Sharon reminded me.

  “I promise, I’ll handle that end of things,” I said. “In the meantime, is there anything I can do?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered,” Emma said. “Go, relax. If you can enjoy yourself for a few minutes before you have to go on, you really should.”

  “I’ll take time to enjoy it when it’s over,” I said.

  “The festival, or the investigation?” Emma asked me.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Got it.”

>   Just then, a man and his daughter approached us. “We were hoping you had more of those strawberry-and-cream–filled donuts.”

  “You’re in luck,” Emma told him. “I just made up a new batch.”

  The little girl tugged on her dad’s pants leg. “With sprinkles?” she asked.

  “With all the sprinkles you want,” Emma told her.

  “Wow. Really? I want a lot, then!” she said with unbridled eagerness. I wished I had a tenth of her enthusiasm for what I was about to do. Maybe Emma and Sharon had it right. The next time someone asked me to present something on stage, the best answer I could give was no.

  Once the father/daughter combo had been served, with an extra shower of sprinkles for the little girl, Sharon said, “Susanne, I want to thank you for what you’re doing.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who should be thanking you. With you and Emma working the festival, I have more time to help run things behind the scenes and try to figure out what happened to Tom Johnson.”

  “And in some cases, in front of the scenes, too,” Emma said with a smile. “That’s not what Mom is talking about, though. She means that we’re both grateful that you’re helping Dad with his story.”

  I felt a little guilty accepting their praise, especially since I was holding back part of what I knew from Ray. “Honestly, I’m not doing all that much.”

  “We’re going to just have to agree to disagree about that,” Sharon said. “No matter how trivial it might seem to you, you should know that the Blakes appreciate it.”

  “You’re most welcome,” I said, feeling uncomfortable receiving praise I wasn’t at all sure I was fully entitled to receive.

  Thankfully, I was saved from any further conversation when Hannah Thrush came up to me, almost out of breath.

  “Suzanne, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.” She glanced at Emma and Sharon and then added, “Alone.”

  “Of course,” I said and excused myself.

  Once we were alone, Hannah said, “I need help.”

  “What’s wrong? Is someone after you?” I asked her as I scanned the crowd. I couldn’t see anyone heading in our direction, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. “Who is it?”

  “Those two witches from New York,” she said as she frowned and scanned the crowd. “I’m at the end of my rope with both of them! They were after me most of last night, even after I told them it would be today before I gave them my decision, and first thing this morning they were at my door. The poor couple hosting me hadn’t even woken up yet. The second I stepped outside, I saw them waiting for me like a pair of vultures. I tried to lose them in the crowd just now, but they aren’t going to give up. You heard me tell them that I wasn’t going to give them my answer until after the festival was over, didn’t you?”

  Something clicked in my mind as I replayed what Hannah had just told me. “Hang on a second. You were with them both last night, too?” Monique had referred to it in passing, but I’d missed it completely at the time.

  “Yes, unfortunately,” Hannah said. “From the moment I left Hank after dinner, they walked back to the house with me where I’m staying, and they wouldn’t take no for an answer. We spoke for two hours before I finally told them that I was tired and I had to go to bed. Even the Pickerings were worried about me. At one point they came out onto the porch and asked if they should call the police. I declined, but then I regretted it after they still wouldn’t take the hint.”

  “Hannah, that means that you have an alibi for the time of the murder, and so do they,” I said softly, more to myself than to her.

  “I guess so,” she said. “I didn’t know I needed one.”

  “You don’t,” I lied. If she was telling the truth, I could strike three names off my list in one fell swoop, since she left Hank while Tom Johnson was still alive and kicking.

  “Can you keep them from harassing me?” she asked.

  “The police?” I asked in return, lost in my own thoughts and not paying all that much attention to her at the moment.

  “The police aren’t harassing me, they are,” she said as she pointed to the twosome heading in our direction.

  I decided that, just in case she was telling the truth, I could give her a hand. Standing in front of her as though I was shielding her from an oncoming tank, which I suppose was exactly what I was doing metaphorically, I said, “You need to both leave her alone. She’s got to get ready for the panel.”

  “We aren’t finished with her, though,” Maye said. “I know if we can have a few more minutes, we can persuade her to sign with both of us.”

  “It won’t take a minute,” Monique agreed.

  Evidently Hannah had finally had enough. “You’re right, but not for the reason you think. I was planning on stringing you both on for the rest of the day, but I’ve had enough. You almost broke me last night, but I wanted to at least give you both a troubled night’s sleep, so I kept my mouth shut. I’m not signing with either one of you, not now, not ever.”

  “Is that your final answer?” Maye asked her. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can say or do to change your mind?”

  “Nothing,” she said emphatically.

  “Very well. After all, it’s your decision,” Maye said, and then she walked away.

  Once she was gone, Monique said, “It was wise not to sign with her. You don’t need an agent. You’ve already got my attention. What say the two of us talk now that Maye is out of the picture?”

  Hannah looked at me, the exasperation evident on her face. “Suzanne, am I speaking a foreign language or something?”

  “I understood you the first time,” I said. “She’s not interested, not now, not ever,” I repeated to the editor.

  “You’re making a huge mistake. You know that, don’t you?” she asked Hannah. “I won’t offer you a contract again if you turn this down.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors,” Hannah said.

  “Fine. I’m out of this place and heading back to the city.”

  “Which city is that?” I asked, knowing full well she meant Manhattan. It always irked me that people from New York acted as though their city was the only viable one in the country, if not the world. “Charlotte? Hickory? Or maybe Raleigh?”

  She didn’t even answer as she stormed off. Hannah looked at me, and we both started laughing. I had plenty of reasons not to be fond of the woman, but at that moment, we were simpatico in our reactions to arrogance and condescension.

  “Thanks, Suzanne. That was beautiful.”

  “You’re welcome. See you on stage in a few minutes,” I said.

  “If you need me before then, I’ll be in the green room at the bookstore.”

  Once she was gone, I scanned the crowds, and sure enough, I saw the Pickerings lingering at Paige’s sales table. “Hey, folks. I want to thank you again for agreeing to host one of our visiting writers.”

  “It was our pleasure,” Mr. Pickering said. “She’s been delightful.”

  “I’m glad we were able to help,” Mrs. Pickering added.

  “I understand there was some excitement on your front porch last night,” I answered, leading them with the statement.

  “Those two women were dreadful to poor Hannah. We almost called the police chief,” Mr. Pickering said.

  “You offered, dear, but she said she could handle it,” Mrs. Pickering added.

  “How long were they out there?” I asked as lightly as I could.

  “Oh, it had to be at least two hours,” Mr. Pickering said.

  After they gave me the exact time frame, I felt at least a little of the tension I’d been feeling slip away. Not by my superior investigative skills but by merely paying attention, I’d just eliminated almost half of my suspects! Evidently sometimes just showing up was enough. That still left Hank, Amanda, Gregory, and Cindy on our list of suspects, but we were making progress.

  I had a hunch that eliminating the other innocent parties wouldn’t be as easy, though.

  Chapter 20
r />   To my surprise, we had a bigger audience for our panel than we’d had the day before. I had on my black armband Cindy had provided, and I’d seen her handing them to the other panelists as well. She’d also confronted me ten seconds before I was due to go onstage.

  “Don’t forget to announce my reading,” she said. “I’ve been able to pare it down to two hours, and I wouldn’t want anyone to miss any of it.”

  “I’ll make the announcement at the end of the panel,” I promised her.

  “Why the end?” she asked, narrowing her gaze. This woman was at least a little crazy, there could be no denying it, but just how crazy was she? Was Cindy just an overenthusiastic fan, or was there more to it? Had her ardor turned into obsession? I was going to have to press her a little harder later, but for the moment, I had to compose myself for what was to come.

  “Fine. I’ll do it sooner if I can work it in.”

  That seemed to mollify her, at least for the moment.

  “What was that all about?” Grace asked me as she twirled a black armband around two fingers. “You’re not actually going to wear that, are you?” she asked as she pointed to my arm.

  “You’ve talked to her. Is she a woman you think you should cross?” I asked.

  “Maybe you’ve got a point,” Grace said as she slid the armband in place. “I just wanted to stop by and tell you to knock them dead.”

  “I’m not sure I care for that expression given the circumstances, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Did you get your boss straightened out?”

  “For now, at least,” Grace said with an exasperated sigh. “I suppose that’s the price for being good at what you do.”

  “I feel your pain, especially with your generous salary, extensive benefits, and your luxury company car,” I replied with a smile.

  “You have a company car,” Grace said.

  “My Jeep can in no way be considered a company car,” I said with a laugh.

  Paige motioned to me and pointed at her wrist, which didn’t happen to be sporting a watch, but I knew what she meant.

  I’d delayed it as long as I could.

  It was time to start the panel.

  As I took the stage with my microphone in hand, I welcomed the crowd to a smattering of applause. Before introducing our panelists, I decided it was as good a time as any to pay respects to the slain author. “I’m sad to report to those who haven’t heard that we lost one of our writers last night. Tom Johnson was struck down in a senseless tragedy, and I’d like us all to bow our heads and respect his memory with a few moments of silence.”