When I unlocked the front door, I was surprised to see a patrol car sitting out in front of the shop.
Peering through the dim light cast by the shop window, I could see that it was Chief Martin, and I felt my heart sink. It wasn't that I liked talking to Officer Moore, a cop who had appeared to take an interest in the case, but he was better than the chief. Officer Grant would have been nice, too; I saw him often enough as a customer not to be intimidated by him.
I waved to the chief and tried to smile anyway, but he held a hand up in my direction and went on talking on his radio.
Sometimes it seemed as if the man was going out of his way to be rude to me.
I decided to ignore him and go about the business of selling donuts. If the chief wanted to speak with me, he knew how to find me. In the meantime, I had things to do myself.
Ten minutes later, he was still sitting there when George walked in. "Did you know the chief's out there?"
"I spotted him when I opened for business," I said.
"I keep expecting him to come in, but he's spending so much time on the radio, I'm beginning to wonder if he ever will. Who on earth could he be talking to this early in the morning?"
George smiled, but didn't comment.
"What is it?" I asked. "Do you know something I don't?"
Turning his back to the door, George said, "I could be wrong, but I think he's trying to shake you up a little. The longer he sits out there, the jumpier he thinks you're going to get. At least I'm willing to bet that's what he's counting on. By the time he actually comes in, he's going to think you'll be willing to tell him anything he wants to hear."
"He can think whatever he wants to," I said as I topped off George's coffee. "I'm not about to let him rattle me."
"That's the spirit," he said as he winked at me.
After taking another sip, George said, "I keep waiting for you to say something about last night, but if you're not going to bring it up, it looks like I'm going to have to."
I slapped the towel down on the counter. "For goodness' sake, would folks around here get lives of their own so they don't have to borrow mine for their thrills?"
George held his hands up, his palms showing. "I was talking about Max stalking you, not your date with Jake Bishop."
"He wasn't stalking me," I snapped.
"Don't be so quick to defend him. You don't know what he's been doing. I see him outside your shop all
the time. As a matter of fact, he could have been watching you ever since the divorce."
That wasn't something I even wanted to consider. The thought of my ex looming around every corner was more than I could take.
"Let's change the subject, shall we? I'll talk about anything but my love life. Is that a deal?"
"It's fine with me," George said.
"I never even asked you why you showed up first thing this morning. What brings you by so early?"
George grinned. "I'm doing a little police work of my own today," he said.
"Is there anything you'd like to share with me?"
He stood and put a five on the counter. "Not yet, I don't want to jinx it. Take my word for it, don't trust anybody. Until I have something more concrete, you should watch your back, okay?"
"I will if you will," I said.
As George started out the door, I saw that the chief had finally decided it was time to come in. If he thought that by making me stand there stewing in curiosity about why he was parked in front of my shop for so long, he was going to get to me, he was wrong. Hanging around George had taught me that much. The more I played things close to the vest, the more the chief would be forced to disclose to get me to talk.
And I was ready for any errant clues he was ready to throw my way.
"Have you decided on what you'd like, Chief?"
He frowned at me. "Give me a second. I just walked in the door. Besides, I'm not here for donuts."
"I figured since you were outside in your patrol car so long, you were having trouble making up your mind."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I actually came by to do you a favor."
"I'm listening," I said.
He looked at me a second, then said, "I just wanted to give you a little advice. You shouldn't be going out with Inspector Bishop," he said, spitting the words out like they tasted bad.
"What?" I was sure he'd planned to talk about my impromptu investigation into Patrick Blaine's murder. Was he seriously giving me advice about my love life? "You're kidding me. How did you even find out about it?"
"It's a small town; you should know that more than most."
"Chief, if I want to date the governor, it would still be none of your business."
He frowned. "This didn't come out the way I was hoping," he said.
"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. Why don't you want me dating him?" I couldn't help myself. I was just too curious about what could possibly motivate him to try to interfere with my dating.
His face clouded up. "All I'm saying is, don't give him a reason to hang around here. I've got this case covered, and he knows it. But if he's seeing you on the side, then he might drag things out, and I want this wrapped up."
"I appreciate your input," I said.
"Which means you're going to ignore my advice," the chief said.
I just gave him a smile, and he left the shop empty-handed. I wasn't all that sorry I was inconveniencing Chief Martin with my love life, and I certainly wasn't going to stop seeing Jake just because the police chief wanted me to. In fact, if anything, it gave me more incentive to make things work with Jake.
After Donut Hearts was closed for the day, I picked up the telephone and called Grace. "Hey, I know you're working today, but I was wondering if you could skip out a little early today."
"Sure, I'd be delighted to," she said.
"Don't you even want to know why?"
Grace's laughter caught fire. "All I need is a reason to skip work, and I'm there. I'll be by at two. Is that soon enough?"
"That would be great. I'll be at the house, so come over there."
"See you then."
After we hung up, I started thinking of ways to get on the inside of Allied Construction using subterfuge instead of donuts.
And then it hit me.
When Grace and I walked in, the results would be completely different than they had when I'd visited the place alone.
I called Grace back. "What are you wearing?"
Pretending not to know that it was me, she said, "Nothing but my shoes and a smile. Is this an obscene telephone call, by any chance? I've never gotten one before, so I hope I'll hold up my end of the bargain. Why, what are you wearing?"
"This is Suzanne."
Grace chuckled. "I know it is, you nit." In a lower voice, she added, "You should see the man sitting near me in the restaurant. He's turned twelve shades of red. I wonder if I can get his face to catch on fire from the heat."
"You're bad. Seriously, though, I need you to pull out all the stops. Wear the best thing you've got."
"Business, pleasure, or somewhere in between? I need a range here."
"We're going to impersonate two high-powered businesswomen."
Grace paused, then asked, "Should I bring something for you to wear as well, then?"
"I couldn't fit into your clothes with a shoehorn and a bucket of Crisco. I'm going to go by Gabby's on the way home." We both knew my wardrobe was definitely on the shabby side of shabby chic.
"Good, I just love to play dress up. What's our cover going to be?"
"We're going to be representing an eccentric millionaire who wants to commission a new home," I said.
"Oh, that sounds lovely. I can't wait."
After we hung up, I marveled that I had such a friend. She was up for whatever insanity I could create, and would play the role better than I could. It was a cherished thing, having her in my corner.
Grace picked me up at three minutes to two. I was standing by the door waiting for her, praying that she got to the house sooner than my mother did. I
doubted my dear momma would approve of what we were up to.
On my way home, I'd stopped in at the secondhand clothing store next door for something to wear. Gabby had been curious enough about my strange request, but she'd found a suit on her racks that not only fit me, but made me look just right for the role I was about to play.
Grace got out of her car, looking like she owned the world. From her high-priced pumps to her tailored suit, I had no trouble believing she was exactly who we were going to pretend to be.
I said, "I'd give you a wolf whistle, if I could. You look fabulous."
She twirled there on the sidewalk, then said, "So do you."
"It will do, but you really look the part."
"It's my interview suit, so I spared no expense," she said.
"You're looking for a new job?"
Grace laughed. "Sweetheart, I'm in sales. I'm always looking for a new job. Shall we?"
"We shall," I said.
As we drove toward Allied Construction, I realized we'd go right past BR Investments.
"Would you mind a stop along the way?" I asked.
"I'm all yours. What did you have in mind?"
"I'd like to get another look at the investment brokerage Patrick Blaine was doing business with just before he was murdered."
"That sounds like fun," Grace said, and I wondered if she was taking all of this seriously enough.
"This isn't entertainment," I chided her lightly.
"We're looking for incriminating evidence involving a murder, not going out to have fun."
"Why can't we do both?" Grace asked.
"You're hopeless, but I couldn't do it without you," I said.
"Are you kidding? This is the most fun I've had in ages. Can I be an heiress with a brand-new fortune, looking for someone to manage it for me?"
"That's fine. I'll be your personal secretary."
Grace bit her lip. "No offense, but won't he recognize you? For that matter, you've been at the construction company before, too."
"You're giving them too much credit. I had a box of donuts in my hand the last time I was at their offices, and I was dressed in jeans and an old shirt, with my hair in a ponytail. This tight little bun and my suit will be the perfect disguise. If anyone looks like they know who I am, I'll tell them they're mistaking me with my cousin, but I'll bet you ten dozen donuts no one makes the connection."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself."
"Grace, it's all about context. If one of them walked into Donut Hearts and I was wearing this suit, they might put it together, but I'd still be surprised."
"I'll bet you, but not for donuts. How about lunch at Napoli's, or do you only go there with handsome state investigators?"
"I was waiting for the first shot," I said. "You almost disappointed me, you took so long. Go ahead. Give me grief about dating a cop. I know you wanted to last night when we talked on the phone, so let's get it over with."
She shook her head. "Are you serious? I thought it
was great when you told me on the phone, and I haven't changed my mind. It's time you got back on that particular horse, don't you think?"
"I suppose so, but it wasn't easy."
"Suzanne, is anything worthwhile ever painless? Don't worry, it's all going to work out. I have a good feeling about it."
"I hope you're right."
She parked her car in front of the brokerage, and said, "It's not much, is it?"
"If anything, the inside is even less impressive."
Grace shrugged. "So, it will call for more acting than I thought. That's fine, I can do that."
"Do you want to come up with more background story before we go in?" I asked, suddenly nervous about this new game we were playing.
"Now what fun would that be? Just follow my lead and you'll be fine."
Before I could stop her, Grace was out the door and walking toward the office. Whether I liked it or not, it was showtime.
Donald Rand, though in different clothes, was as rumpled as ever. I saw Grace's eyebrows go up when she saw the shoddy, barely furnished office, and I was proud of her when she kept from commenting.
"Ladies, how can I help you?" There was something greasy about the way he spoke, as if the simplest sentence could carry smutty innuendo.
Grace said a bit dramatically, "Mr. Rand, I'm afraid I've inherited an obscene amount of money, and I don't know what to do with it all. My personal assistant"--she nodded to me, and I looked as grave
as I could--"received a recommendation for your services, so I thought a preliminary visit might be in order."
"Excellent," he said, barely able to keep from licking his lips as he spoke. "Won't you have a seat?"
I wondered how he was going to manage that, since there were only two chairs in the entire place. To my surprise, he seated me in his visitor's chair, then retrieved the better desk chair for Grace. In a move that looked too practiced to be spur-of-the-moment, Rand leaned against his desk for support.
"Might I ask who recommended me?"
No doubt there was a kickback involved somewhere. "I spoke with a dear friend, Patrick Blaine. You know him quite well, don't you?"
He flinched, but if I hadn't been watching for it, I would have missed it. Quickly regaining his composure, Rand asked, "When exactly did you speak with him?"
I pretended to think about it, then said, "Just before we left for Europe. We've been gone two weeks, and returned late last night. I plan to call Patrick later to tell him how the meeting went."
He was definitely feeling the stress now. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name."
