Deadly Donuts (12 page)

“I wouldn’t celebrate quite yet, Heather.
 
There’s not much of a chance that I’ll be able to find
anything
that he was hiding.”

“I understand.
 
It’s just good to know that someone’s out there trying to help me.”

“Then we’re good.
 
Do you happen to know anyone else Morgan might have been blackmailing?”

“No, I’m sorry.
 
He never mentioned anyone else to me.”

I knew that it had been a long shot, but I’d taken it, anyway.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

“Not really,” she said, and then she seemed to think about it for a few seconds before she spoke again.
 
“He was so
casual
about it all, you know?
 
I had a hunch that he’d blackmailed a few people before he got to me.”

“How was he dressed when he came into your office?” I asked.

“He was wearing a suit, but it was clear that it was from the thrift store.
 
The only thing odd was the rosebud he wore in his lapel.
 
It didn’t seem to match his demeanor, if that makes any sense.
 
I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“Don’t worry.
 
I’ll do my best to help you bury your past.”

Heather nodded, handed me a card, and then she said, “My cell number is on the back.
 
Call me if there’s
anything
that I can do.”
 
She paused, and then looked at me as she added, “Angelica says that I should tell Cliff what’s going on before he marries me.
 
What do you think?”

“I agree with her completely,” I said.
 
“Wouldn’t you rather get this all behind you so that you can enjoy your wedding without worrying that the photos are going to show up at any second?”

“If I tell Cliff, I’m not sure there’s even going to
be
a wedding,” she said as she twisted a large diamond engagement ring on her finger.

“That says something right there, when you think about it.
 
If your fiancé doesn’t want you because of a past indiscretion, it might be better to know that up front.
 
I know that I’d want to know.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said.
 
“Please find those photos, Suzanne.”

“As I said, I’ll do what I can,” I said.

After Heather was gone, I grabbed my cell phone and called Jake.
 
This was too big to keep until dinner tonight.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” I asked with a grin.
 
Though he
never
awoke as early as I had to every day, I knew that usually he got up at six a.m., regardless of whether he was working on a case or not.

“I’m heading your way,” he said.
 
“As a matter of fact, I’m just across the street.”

“Then hurry up.
 
There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Look up,” he said as he came from the Boxcar, waving.

I hung up my phone and met him halfway in the park.
 
“Did you grab breakfast over there instead of coming by my place?”

“This was business,” he said.
 
“Sure, I had eggs and toast, but I had a meeting as well, and I thought it might be questionable having her meet me at Donut Hearts.”

“Her?” I asked, putting a lot of emphasis into that single word.

“Martha Hickok,” he said.
 
“She’s in her seventies now, but she must have been a real beauty back in her day.”

“I’ll have you know that women can still be beautiful when they hit the seven-decade mark,” I said.

“Of course they can, but sometimes once the bloom is faded, especially when the woman has sunbathed all of her life, it’s a fast fall.
 
Her skin looked more like aged leather, you know?”

“What was your meeting about?” I asked.

“It seems that Morgan was trying to blackmail her, too.
 
She lives in Union Square, and she wanted to be certain that no one saw us talking, so I suggested Trish’s place.”

“That man was certainly busy, wasn’t he?”

“Why, did you find another victim, too?”

I told him all about Heather, and the need to be discreet, which he was glad to promise.

“Wow, that’s just crazy.
 
He was really pushing his luck, wasn’t he?” Jake asked.

“There’s no doubt in my mind that’s what got him killed,” I agreed.
 
“What I want to know is where his stash of blackmail information is right now?”

“I’ll talk to Ellen and see if she’ll let me look around,” Jake said.
 
“We’re meeting in half an hour.”

“Boy, you’re squeezing them in pretty tightly, aren’t you?
 
How did Martha know to come to you?”

“Your mother gave her my number, as a matter of fact,” Jake said, looking guilty about the confession.

“
My
mother?” I asked loudly.
 
“Sure, that makes sense.
 
Why wouldn’t she tell her only child, someone she knew would be interested in the news?”

“Take it easy.
 
All of this
just
happened.
 
Martha called her to sympathize about the rumors going around about the two of you being involved in the mess, and she wanted to commiserate.
 
Your mother knew that Martha responded much better to men than she did women, so she gave her my number, not yours.
 
She was just doing what was best for our investigation, Suzanne.
 
You shouldn’t hold it against your mom.”

It made sense the way Jake had explained it, but I still didn’t have to love the idea.

“What did Martha have to say?
 
Did she give you any details?”
 
I knew that some folks had trouble sleeping as they got older, which might have explained Martha’s early telephone call to my mother, but a great deal had been happening already today, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.

“Funny, it’s a lot like your story,” Jake said.
 
“She claimed that Morgan had some direct evidence that Martha had been less than discreet as a younger woman, a
much
younger woman, I might add.
 
When Morgan tried to blackmail her with a photo sheet, Martha told him to have them published in the newspaper if he could manage it.
 
She hadn’t looked that good in decades, and she didn’t care who knew it.”

“Did you say it was all printed on one sheet?” I asked.
 
Something Heather had said reminded me of Jake’s description.

“That’s what she told me.
 
Why?”

“I need to make a quick call first before I can say.”

“Make it dance, Suzanne.
 
I can’t be late for my appointment with Ellen,” Jake said.

I dialed Heather’s number.
 
After she picked up, I asked, “Were the photos of you single shots, or were they all printed on one sheet?”

“They were all on one sheet.
 
Why?” she asked.

“But the originals were Polaroids; that’s what you told me, right?”

“Yes.
 
I told him that I wasn’t about to pay for copies when I saw that sheet.
 
He promised me that if I paid up, I could have them all, prints and originals both.”

I didn’t believe that Morgan would ever actually do that for one second, but it was information I could use.
 
“Was the paper flat, like it came from a copier, or was it glossy, like it originated in a lab?”

“It was glossy,” she said.
 
“You’re on to something, aren’t you?”

“We’ll see.
 
Thanks for the information.”

I turned to Jake, who’d been following my side of the conversation.
 
I said, “I’ve got a hunch that there’s a photo lab involved somewhere in this mess.”

“Not necessarily.
 
Suzanne, there are several ways of printing out photos on home computers that make them look as though they came straight from the lab.”

“But Ellen told me that Morgan
hated
computers, and that he didn’t know the first thing about using them.
 
Plus, he prided himself on always knowing someone who could do whatever he needed.
 
My guess is that he had private access to a photo lab.
 
No developer at Photo World Picture Hut is going to make a proof sheet like the ones we’ve been talking about.”

“So then I add that search to my list as well,” he said.

“Hey, Greedy, leave something for the rest of us to do, okay?”

Jake looked a little like a small boy caught taking an extra cookie.
 
“Sorry about that.
 
Of course, you’re right.
 
You found the clue; you should be able to follow up on it.
 
Besides, I’m so busy I don’t know how I’m going to do everything on my schedule as it is.”
 
He bent forward, gave me a quick peck, and was on his way.
 
“I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” I said.

After he was gone, I thought about what I’d just learned.
 
Morgan was a big-time blackmailer; there was no doubt about it, as evidenced by the victims who had come forward already.
 
How many others were still out there that we didn’t know about yet?
 
As soon as I closed the donut shop, hunting for his photo shop connection was going to be a top priority, but I also wanted to know where he’d picked up that fresh rosebud.
 
Was it from an innocent florist in the area, or could it have come from another victim?
 
I didn’t know the answer to that question, either, but I planned on finding out.

A little past ten, two men in workboots, dirty jeans, and faded T-shirts walked into the donut shop.
 
“
Here’s
where it is,” one of them said, looking like a younger version of his companion.
 
I was pretty sure that I was looking at a father and son.

“Where what is?” I asked, matching his smile.

“Where all the happiness in the world is,” he said as he rubbed his hands together.
 
“I don’t know about you, Pop, but I could eat a dozen right here in the shop.”

“Maybe when I was
your
age I could,” he said, “but that was a long time ago.”

“Then why don’t you start with six and see how you do?”

“Do you honestly want eighteen donuts between the two of you to eat here?” I asked.
 
I’d had some big donut eaters in the past, but never on that scale.

“Let’s just start with two apiece and see how it goes,” the elder said.
 
“Is that okay with you, Henry?”

“Sure, but I can tell you right now that if they taste anything like they smell, we’re going to be here awhile.”

“What exactly can I get you?” I asked as I pulled out two trays.

“I’ll take a couple of lemon-filled to start,” the son said.

“Two plain cake donuts for me,” his dad said.

“Come on; live a little, Pop,” his son chided him.

He thought about it for a few seconds, and then said, “Okay, make it one plain cake, and one plain glazed donut, please.”

“That’s what you call living?” his son asked him.

“Ask me that same question when you get to be my age,” the father said.

“Pop, I can’t imagine
ever
being your age,” he said with a bright smile.

“Trust me; it’ll be here before you know it,” the father said, and then he turned back to me.
 
“Two coffees, too, please.”

“Coming right up.
 
If you’d like to grab a table, I’ll bring everything over to you.”

“The bar’s just fine,” he said.

As they took their seats, I grabbed their donuts and slid their requested orders in front of them.
 
The coffees soon followed, and as I was about to walk away to clean up a little, the son told me, “You know, we could do a really nice counter out of mahogany if you’d like to dress the place up.
 
It would look great.”

I glanced down at the plain counter, and then I said, “Thanks, but this has worked out fine so far.”

“Sure, it’s okay,” he said.
 
“I’m just saying, you have a couple of world-class builders sitting right here at your counter, and if you promise us free donuts while we work, we’ll quote you a good price, and we really would do an excellent job for you.
 
Why don’t you take a card, just in case.”

Before I could reach for the offered card being slid across the counter, the father put an index finger on it, stopping its forward progress dead in its tracks.

“Apologize to the lady, Henry,” the father said.