Sweet Suspects (The Donut Mysteries) (18 page)

BOOK: Sweet Suspects (The Donut Mysteries)
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“You would have had to be, wouldn’t you?” I asked.

“Are you judging me, Suzanne?”

“Tom, this would go a lot faster if you’d just tell me what you did with the spear after you left the gym.”

He nodded.
 
“Fine.
 
The second I got it outside, I realized how stupid I’d look carrying it to my car, so I dumped it.”

“Where exactly did you leave it?”

“In the dumpster outside of the gymnasium,” he said.
 
“I’ve been trying to figure out what to do since I found out how Zane was murdered, but I can’t come up with any scenario that doesn’t end with me being tried for murder.
 
My fingerprints were all over that thing, and as soon as the police figure it out, I’m dead.”

“Not necessarily,” I said.
 
“Maybe the killer smudged them when he grabbed it.”

“Don’t you get it?
 
Whoever did it
had
to have seen me dump it.
 
I’m pretty sure they’d be smart enough not to wipe my prints off.
 
It would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

I thought about it, and then I said, “You still might be okay for now.
 
If your prints aren’t in the system, they won’t know it’s you right away.”

He looked instantly miserable.
 
“I was in the ROTC in college.
 
I’m in the system.”

“Then why hasn’t the chief come looking for you yet?”

Tom shrugged.
 
“For all I know, he has.
 
I haven’t been home since the murder.
 
I’ve been staying on a friend’s couch.”

“Tom, if you’re innocent, you’ve got to tell Chief Martin what happened.”

He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.
 

That’s
your suggestion?
 
I’ll be in jail before lunch if I do anything that stupid.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said angrily.
 
“Everybody talks about how you’re this great detective.
 
You’ve got to do
something
.”

“There’s only one thing I can tell you at this point.
 
Call Chief Martin.”

“You’re no help at all!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s the only thing that might help.”

He looked around, and that’s when he must have realized how close we were to Grace’s house.
 
“Forget I even asked.
 
I’ll get help from someone else.”

As he started toward Grace’s place, I said loudly, “Leave her alone, Tom.
 
She can’t help you, either.”

“We’ll just see about that,” he said, walking faster.

I couldn’t stop him, but there was one thing that I could do.

I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and called her.
 
I had to warn Grace that trouble was on its way.

She didn’t pick up.

Of course not.
 
That would have been too easy.

I couldn’t go back for my Jeep; I didn’t have time.

Instead, I started running, hoping to head him off before he got there.

I stopped before I reached him, though.

Grace must not have seen either one of us in the park as she drove past us on her way out of town.

I called again, and this time she picked up.

“Grace,” I rasped as I tried to catch my breath.

“If this is someone’s attempt to get a cheap thrill, you’re wasting your time.
 
Heavy breathing on a phone is for twelve-year-olds.”

“Grace, it’s Suzanne,” I said as I turned and hurried back to the donut shop.
 
At least I’d caught my breath.

“Suzanne, what are you doing, trying to prank me?”

“No, this is serious.
 
Stay away from your house.”

“Now you sound like one of those teen horror movies,” Grace said.

“I mean it.
 
Tom Hancock is looking for you.”

“Why exactly am I avoiding him?” she asked.

“He’s the one who stole the spear from the gym, but he claims he didn’t use it to kill Zane,” I replied, and then I gave her the full story he had just shared with me.

“What does he want from me?” Grace asked, all of the humor now gone from her voice.

“I couldn’t help him, so he decided that only you could.”

“If there’s nothing that
you
can do for him, I’m certainly at a loss.
 
He should probably call the police chief.
 
That’s what I would tell him.
 
Running away isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I told him that, but it’s not going to be that easy.”

“What are you going to do?” Grace asked me.

“What can I do?
 
I’m calling Chief Martin.”

She paused for a few moments, and then she asked, “You really don’t have any choice, do you?”

“I don’t think so, either.
 
If there’s a chance that the police chief
doesn’t
know about this already, he has every right to know as soon as possible.”

“Hang up and call him, then.”

“You aren’t going back home anytime soon, are you?” I asked her.

“No, I couldn’t get any work done there, so I’m going to the library.”

“That’s a good idea.
 
He’ll never look for you there,” I said.

“Hey, is that a crack, Suzanne?
 
I might not read as much as you or your mother, but I like a good book as much as the next gal, particularly if it’s a mystery.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I promise,” I said.
 
“I just think that you should be safe there.”

“Okay then.
 
I’ll see you at noon.
 
You know what?
 
Make it eleven.
 
I’m going to need a break from paperwork by then anyway.”

“See you then,” I said, and then I dialed Chief Martin’s number before I could change my mind.
 
I might just be giving a murderer a reason to come after me, but I couldn’t let that stop me.

This was too important.

 
 
 

Chapter 15

 
 

“Thanks, but I already know about Tom Hancock’s prints on the spear,” the chief said.
 
“Do you happen to know where he is right now?”

“The last time I saw him, he was on foot making his way to Grace’s place.
 
That was about five minutes ago, so he still should be close by.”

“And you didn’t warn her?” he barked at me.

“She was already gone,” I said.

“I’ve been looking for Tom Hancock all day.
 
Thanks for calling, Suzanne,” the chief said.

I was about to tell him that Tom had proclaimed his innocence to me, but I would have been talking to a dead phone.

He’d already hung up on me.

Well, I’d done my civic duty.
 
Now it was up to him.
 
After all, the police had resources that I could only dream about, and enough manpower to conduct their own manhunt.

All I could do was ask around and hope that someone I spoke to knew something that might help me solve the crime.

It wasn’t exactly a fair fight between the two of us.

 

I walked back into the donut shop to find Hazel, Jennifer, and Elizabeth already there, sipping on their coffees.
 
My book club was occupying our best sofa and chairs, but their books weren’t out yet.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said.
 
“You could have gotten started without me.”

Jennifer, a bright redhead who was the leader of our little group, smiled at me.
 
“We weren’t about to do that.
 
What fun would that be?”

“Can I get you all something to snack on?” I asked.
 
“I made some wonderful apple fritters this morning with fresh apples.”

“How many calories does each one have?” Hazel asked.
 
The woman was always on a diet, and I felt a bit devilish whenever we met, since I had so many tasty temptations in my shop.

“I don’t have a clue,” I admitted.

Elizabeth, the member of our group who prided herself on corresponding with several authors, said, “Hazel, they’re practically health food.”

“What makes you say that?” Hazel asked her.

“You heard the woman.
 
They have
apples
in them.
 
I’ll take one, Suzanne.”

“How about you two?” I asked.

“Count me in,” Jennifer said.

Hazel was still on the fence as she asked, “Are you having one, Suzanne?”

My jeans were getting a little tighter every day, but those fritters looked delicious, and I wasn’t immune to my own wares.
 
“I will if you do.
 
We could always split one,” I suggested.

“No, if you’re willing to risk it, then so am I,” she said.
 
“I’ll take a whole one.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to take that, but I smiled anyway.
 
“Coming right up.”

Emma had been listening to us chat, so she plated four fritters for us.
 
“Take your time, Suzanne.
 
It’s kind of nice being up here where all of the action is.”

I smiled at her.
 
“Thanks.
 
Emma, are you coming out of your shell?”
 
She hadn’t always been a fan of waiting on folks at the front counter.

“Maybe a little bit,” she said.
 
“Who knows?
 
In a few years, you might be able to actually take a week off and have a real vacation.”

“I live to dream,” I said with a smile as I grabbed the plates.

After I passed them out to my group, I said, “Thanks again for waiting.”

“We were happy to do it,” Jennifer said.
 
“Now, let’s talk about
Murder for the Birds
.
 
How did you all like it?”

“I have to admit that I wasn’t a fan of the idea of reading a bird lovers mystery, but it was mostly good,” Hazel said as she nibbled around the edges of her fritter as though it was the only thing she was going to be eating that day.
 
I sincerely hoped that wasn’t true.

“The character development was good, but the murder method was a little too outlandish for my taste,” I said, and then I took a hearty bite of my fritter.
 
There was an explosion of apple, cinnamon, and rich dense bread in my mouth.
 
Every component complemented the whole, and I marveled sometimes at just how good I was in the kitchen.
 
I decided to keep that last observation to myself.

“Every
one
of her plots are outlandish,” Elizabeth said.
 
“That’s her niche.”

“What, crazy ways to kill people?” Jennifer asked.

“I didn’t think that it was
that
outlandish,” Elizabeth said, always trying to take up for the authors of the books that we discussed.
 

I couldn’t help it.
 
“Who could even come up with a murder committed that way?” I asked.
 
“I mean, seriously.
 
She had the killer put birdseed on a steel plate that led to the trigger of a gun aimed at the victim’s chair.
 
When that bird pecked at the seed and killed Mary Lou, I nearly dropped the book from laughing so hard.”

“It
could
have happened that way,” Elizabeth said a little weakly.
 
“Mary Lou loved watching the birds eat as she sat in her special chair.
 
The whole town knew it, including the killer.
 
It wouldn’t have been hard to rig the entire thing up that way.”

“I don’t know,” I said.
 
“Give me a good old-fashioned steel pipe any day.”

“I like a
blend
of murder weapons, myself,” Hazel said.

“Other than that, how did you like the book?” Jennifer asked.

“She can write a great cozy.
 
I’ll give her that much,” I said.

Elizabeth took that as a triumph.
 
“That’s all that I’m saying.”

I took another bite of my fritter and smiled, not from the delightful treat, but from being in the presence of these nice, smart women who had adopted me into their group.
 
That book club was something that I looked forward to every month, and the time always passed by far too quickly for my taste, even when I was in the middle of a real-life murder investigation of my own.

 

After the ladies in my group were gone, I took the front back over from Emma.
 
Before she went to the back to finish the dishes, she asked, “You really love that club, don’t you?”

“They’re wonderful,” I said.
 
“Thanks for subbing for me again at the last second.”

“I’m always happy to do it, Suzanne.
 
Well, if you don’t need me anymore, the dirty dishes are calling my name.”

“That’s disturbing on way too many levels,” I said with a smile as I took back the front.

 

The rest of the morning was pretty calm, which was a welcome thing at that point.
 
Several folks discussed Zane’s murder in whispered tones, and one woman even pointed across the street to show another woman where the body had been found.
 
For some reason, I kept expecting Tom to burst in with a handgun to take me hostage, no matter how irrational that might have seemed.
 
I was jumpy, there was no doubt about it, which was probably a good thing, given the fact that we weren’t much closer to catching the killer than we had been when I’d seen Zane’s body pinned against the bench with that spear earlier.

After I eased my last few customers out the door at eleven sharp, I started working on our daily report and deposit while Emma took care of a lot of last-minute things like sweeping the front, cleaning the tables, and generally prepping us for shutting down for the day.
 
When the reports all balanced out, I usually helped her, but on those dark days where we had discrepancies, I was useless to her.

Today everything worked out, though.

“How close are you to being finished?” I asked her as I wrote the last number on the day’s deposit slip.

“I’m done,” she said.

“Then you can go on home,” I said as I tucked everything in the bank’s deposit bag.

She lingered behind, though.
 

“Is something wrong?” I asked her.

“I don’t know.
 
It feels as though I’m missing something, you know?”

I grinned at her.
 
“Could it be the three hours of doing our dishes before we opened for the day?
 
Is there any chance that could be it?”

“You’re probably right,” Emma answered with a smile of her own.
 
“I take it back.
 
I don’t think I could get used to working shorter hours.
 
The day’s just about perfect as it is now.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” I said as I turned off the last light and led her out the door.
 
After I locked up behind us, I said, “Have a good day.”

“You, too,” she said.

When I got to my Jeep, someone was waiting for me there, but this time, it was welcome.

“Hey, Grace,” I said.
 
“Did you finish your work early?”

“I did indeed.”

“Where’s your car?” I asked as I looked around.

“I decided to leave it at the library on the back lot and walk over,” she said.
 
“There’s no use advertising that we’re together, is there?”

“You’re getting trickier every day,” I said as I let her in.

“I’ve got to admit that your warning about Tom has me spooked.
 
Every time the library door opened, I nearly jumped out of my chair.
 
I wish I had your nerve sometimes.”

I laughed.
 
“I’ve been jumpy all day myself.
 
In fact, before Jake called me this morning, I was seeing bad guys lurking in every shadow.”

“How’s your state trooper doing?” Grace asked.

“Tired and frustrated at the moment, but he’ll get his killer.”

“You have a lot of faith in him, don’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I asked.
 
“He’s done it before, and there’s no reason for me to believe that he won’t do it again.”

“Suzanne, why aren’t you starting the Jeep?” Grace asked me as we just sat there.

“Where exactly should we go?” I asked her.
 
“We’ve hounded our suspects repeatedly, and we’ve tracked down all the clues that we’re probably going to find.
 
What’s left for us to do?”

“I say we go back to Union Square and talk to Janet and Billy again,” she suggested.
 
“Nobody knows where Tom is at the moment, and Candy’s not going anywhere.”

“Why not?” I asked her as I started the Jeep and drove toward Union Square.

“She has a business to run,” Grace said.
 
“She has to be there most of the time.”

“No, I meant why not do as you just suggested and go back to Union Square?”

“Wow, that was easy.”

BOOK: Sweet Suspects (The Donut Mysteries)
8.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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