Sweet Suspects (The Donut Mysteries) (21 page)

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” I said, “but at least we finally got an alibi out of her.”

“I’d say we got a lot more than that,” Grace said.
 
“And then there were two.”

“The question is, which one is our killer: Tom Hancock or Billy Briscoe?”

“That’s what we have to find out,” Grace said.
 
“I’m just not quite sure how we’re going to go about it.”

“We’d better come up with something soon,” I said.
 
“We’re running out of time.”

“Then I suggest that we get busy,” Grace replied.

“I agree.
 
The question is, what’s our next move?”

We both spent a few moments thinking about it, and then finally Grace said, “Let’s go back to Union Square.”

“What is there left for us to do there?
 
We’ve already eliminated Janet as a suspect, and Billy sure didn’t look as though he was in any mood to talk to us anymore.”

“That’s a shame, then, because he’s the last one left that we
can
talk to.
 
I wonder where Tom is right now?
 
Is the chief really hot on his tail?
 
Do you think he’s still around the county, or has he taken off for greener pastures?”

“If you ask me, I don’t think he’s gone far,” I said.

“What do you base that on?”

“All I’ve got is intuition,” I answered.

“Woman’s?” Grace asked.

“No, investigative.
 
I might be wrong, but what does it really matter at this point?
 
We don’t know where he is.
 
If anybody catches him, it’s going to have to be the police.”

“So Billy it is,” Grace said.

“Why not?” I asked as I started the Jeep and began to drive toward Union Square, and one of our last two suspects in the murder investigation of who really killed Zane Dunbar.

Chapter 18

On our way to Union Square, we drove past the high school gym where the reunion had been held.
 
Out front, a teenaged boy struggled with a bike lock, evidently getting the combination wrong.
 
We made eye contact as I drove past, and a look of pure frustration was clear on his face.

And that’s when it hit me.

I pulled the Jeep into a nearby parking spot and shut off the engine.

“Why are we stopping here?” Grace asked me.
 
“I thought we were going to go find Billy?”

“We were, but this might be even more important than that.”

“What are we doing here, though?
 
Helen and Henry have alibis, remember?
 
They were getting married at the beach when Zane was murdered.”

“Grace, this is something else entirely.
 
I could be wrong, but we might have missed the biggest clue in the entire case.”

“I’m listening.”

As we got out of the Jeep, the teen finally freed his bike and rode away.

I just hoped that we had that much luck.

“What was the oddest prank played during the reunion?”

“Well, the cellophane was pretty gross,” Grace said.

“I’m not talking about nasty.”

“I don’t know.”

“The new locks,” I said.
 
“What if they weren’t a prank at all, but a way of hiding evidence for blackmail nearby without raising suspicion?”

“Do you think Zane kept the info he was using at the school?” Grace asked.

“It’s worth a shot,” I said.

“What if we find the right locker?
 
We don’t have the combination.”

“Maybe we do,” I said.
 
“Remember what Zane told Janet?
 
That number was the key to their future.”

Grace got it immediately.
 
“3205.
 
You think
that’s
the key to getting the hidden information?”

“Why else would Zane have written those numbers down?” I asked.
 
Steve, the white-haired janitor, was going out as we got to the door.

“What brings you two back here so soon?” he asked.

“We need your help,” I said.
 
“Have you done anything with those new locks you found on the empty lockers yet?”

“No,” he said in disgust.
 
“They are really heavy-duty.
 
My bolt-cutters won’t even work on them.
 
I’m going to have to get a special blade for my saw and cut them off.”

“That must make them pretty high-end,” I said, beginning to feel better about my theory.

“It was an expensive prank, that’s for sure,” he said.

“Could we see the locks ourselves?” Grace asked him sweetly.

He shrugged.
 
“I don’t see why not.
 
Come on.
 
You can be my guests.”

“That’s nice of you,” I said.

“Everybody’s in an assembly, so the hallway should be empty,” he said.

As Steve led us to the first locker, I entered the numbers Maria had reported seeing on the slip of paper Janet had dropped at Napoli’s.
 
Three to the left, past it again to the right for the twenty, and then straight to the five.
 
If this was the right locker, we’d soon have the evidence that we’d been looking for.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Try it again,” Grace urged.

I did, twice more, with the same results.

“Where’s the next one?” I asked.

“Right over here,” he said.
 
“Do you really think you can crack one of these?
 
They’re supposed to be foolproof.”

“I’m not sure yet,” I said as I worked on the second lock with the same end results.

“How about the next one?” I asked.

“It’s over here,” he said as he led the way.
 
“If this doesn’t work, there’s only one lock left.
 
How sure are you that you’ve got the right combination?”

“I’m not sure at all,” I said.
 
“All I can do is keep trying.”

“I like your spirit, I’ll say that much for you,” he said.

The third lock refused to yield on my first attempt, and I thought about giving up, but I had to give it two more tries before I moved on to the last locker.

I couldn’t believe it when the lock opened the next time I entered the combination!

“Well, well, well.
 
That’s impressive.
 
What good does it do you, though?” Steve asked.

I didn’t know, but whatever might be in there, I didn’t want Steve to see it.
 
“Grace, you were going to ask Steve something earlier, weren’t you?”

She got it instantly.
 
“Thanks for reminding me.”
 
She put her arm in the janitor’s, and then she asked, “Steve, are you good with sticking doors?”

“I’ve managed to free one a time or two in the past,” he said.

She led him away as she asked, “Could you give me a few tips, then?”

I doubted that he even knew what she was doing.
 
I had to work quickly, though.
 
I pulled the lock off the hasp and swung the locker open.

Inside were two envelopes.

One was marked with Tom Hancock’s name, and the other had Billy Briscoe’s on it.

Mr. Branch must have been telling the truth, because there wasn’t an envelope for Candy Murphy there.
 
He really had paid the blackmail money.

A sudden thought occurred to me as I stuck the envelopes in the back of my shirt.
 
What had happened to the cash Zane had gotten?
 
Had the killer taken it, or was it hidden somewhere else on the school grounds?
 
I’d have to figure that out later.
 
Right now, the most important thing for us to do was to find the murderer.

“It was empty,” I said sadly as I rejoined Grace and Steve.

He shrugged.
 
“Sorry about that,” and then he turned back to Grace.
 
“Like I said, I get off in an hour, and I’d be happy to come by your place and take a look at that door.”

“If I can’t fix it with your advice, I’ll take you up on it later,” she said as she disengaged her arm.
 
“Thanks again for your time.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said.

We were three steps away when he called my name.

Steve must have seen the bulge in the back of my shirt.

I was all set to explain when he asked, “Would you like that lock anyway?
 
It might come in handy down the road.”

“Sure, why not?” I asked as I took it from him and put it around a loop in my blue jeans.

“It wasn’t
really
empty, was it?” Grace asked me once we were safely back outside.

“No, we hit pay dirt,” I said as I pulled the envelopes out from the back of my shirt where I’d first tucked them.

“Suzanne, that was absolutely brilliant,” she said as she looked at them.

“Don’t give me too much credit.
 
If we hadn’t seen that guy struggling to open his bicycle lock, I
never
would have made the leap.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself too short.
 
If it hadn’t been that, I’m sure that it would have been something else.
 
I know you might not think this is ethical, but we need to read whatever is in those envelopes,” she said as she tapped them in my hand.

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” I said.
 

“All right then,” Grace answered with a grin.
 
“As long as we’re on the same page.”

“I don’t want to dig through this muck any more than you do, but it might be the only way we uncover the killer.”

“Where should we go to look at what you found?” Grace asked.

“Let’s head over to the donut shop,” I said.
 
“It’s the only place we can be sure that no one is going to sneak up on us.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” she said.

We got to Donut Hearts, and after I let us in, I locked the door behind us.
 

“Should we sit here where it’s comfy?” she asked as she pointed to my favorite couch.

“No, we’re too exposed here,” I said.
 
“Let’s do this in the kitchen.
 
The barstools back there might not be as comfortable as the furniture out here, but at least no one will be able to see what we’re up to.”

“That’s a good enough reason for me,” she said.

Once we got in back, I flipped on some of the lights, not enough to shine through to the dining area, but enough to illuminate the pages that we were both about to read.

“Which one should we open first?” Grace asked after we were both settled in.

“Let’s see what Tom’s envelope says,” I replied as I tore it open.
 
Inside, there were IOUs, bank deposit slips, even larger ones for withdrawals, and a photocopy of a document that proved that Tom had stolen money from not only Zane, but a dozen other people as well.
 

“Do you know what this means?” I asked Grace as I pushed the documents across the counter toward her.

“Tom Hancock is a thief, pure and simple.
 
What did he do with all that money?”

“I don’t know, but Zane had him dead to rights.
 
If Tom didn’t share some of it with Zane, he was going to jail.”

“Man, and to think that I loved that guy once upon a time.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I said.
 
“You loved the boy, not the man that he became.”

“In a way it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Not on your life,” I said.
 
“We can’t be responsible for who the people we once loved have become.
 
Nobody has a crystal ball, Grace.”

“Still, I shudder when I think about what might have happened this weekend if Zane hadn’t been murdered.”

“You can’t live your life that way, either,” I said.
 
“Shall we see what he had on Billy?”

That envelope was more puzzling.
 
It held an old clipping from a newspaper in Hickory dated the night before we all graduated from high school, with something attached to the back of it.

“It’s a newspaper clipping?” Grace asked.
 
“What’s the story about?”

“A hit-and-run accident,” I said.
 
They hadn’t caught the driver, and an older woman and her best friend had died at the scene.

“What’s on the next page?” she asked me.

It was a picture of Billy on graduation day in his cap and gown.
 
He was sporting a black eye, and he looked miserable.