Killer Crullers (25 page)

“I haven’t forgotten any of them, trust me.”

“Maybe it will come to you in your sleep,” he said.

I yawned as if on cue, and he laughed. “It sounds as though it’s not that far off. Are you going to bed now?”

“No, Momma and I are reading downstairs in front of the fireplace.”

“Have a good night, then.”

“’Night, Jake,” I answered. “Thanks for calling.”

As I walked downstairs, I thought about what he’d said. It all made sense, but maybe I hadn’t taken it far enough. There were more suspects than I’d paid attention to lately, and not everyone in the world who owned a gun had the requisite permit. For some reason I kept thinking about Jenny Ray, and what she gained by Desmond’s death. For the moment, she had control over her wealthy aunt’s life, and now that her closest living relative was dead, Jenny was most likely next in line to inherit. That made me realize that I’d failed to visit Jean as I’d promised. That took priority, and no matter what else I did, I had to go by her place tomorrow as soon as I closed the donut shop for the day. I could dig around a little into Jenny’s life as well by asking her a few questions while I was there. That settled that, so with a game plan in mind, I walked back downstairs with my book so Momma and I could share a little time together.

She was fast asleep on the couch, and I didn’t have the heart to wake her. Taking the fallen book from her lap, I marked her place, then set it aside. I grabbed a blanket, gently eased it over her, and then went back upstairs.

It appeared that our bonding time, at least for now, was over, and I needed sleep easily as much as she did.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day, I could feel it in my bones, and I needed to be at my best if I was going to have any luck catching a killer.

Even if it was Gabby Williams.

*   *   *

Early the next morning was uneventful enough, but then again, we weren’t open yet, so most of what Emma and I did at the donut shop was pretty routine. It was nearing five-thirty, though, when all of that changed.

We were in back applying glazes, icing, and sprinkles to a variety of donuts when we heard someone pounding at the back door. It was too early for a delivery, and I wasn’t willing to open it unless I knew for sure who was back there. It was too easy to get ambushed, and I wasn’t having any of it.

“We’re closed,” I shouted through the thick door.

“I know you are,” Gabby shouted back. “Let me in.”

Before I could unbolt the door, Emma asked, “Should you really do that?”

“You don’t trust Gabby?” I asked.

“Let’s just say I’ll be glad when they catch the killer, no matter who it turns out to be.” Emma must have realized how that sounded, but she was clearly in no position to take it back.

“I feel the same way, but I can’t just leave her out there.”

“Why not?” Emma asked.

I shook my head and fought to hide my smile. Even with all I’d learned about Gabby recently, and some of it was pretty bad, I couldn’t see her gunning me down in my own shop. I might be wrong, but I wasn’t uncertain.

I opened the door, and as I did, I heard Emma’s grunt of disapproval.

I couldn’t change the way she felt, though.

“It took you long enough,” Gabby said when I finally let her in.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re busy making donuts here,” I said, matching her tone. I’d learned long ago that was really all she respected, someone willing to fight her fire with fire.

“Sorry,” she said as she took off her coat. “I was going to wait until eleven, but I can’t stand it.” She looked at Emma, and then asked, “Suzanne, is there somewhere we can talk?”

“I can set up the front if you’d like,” Emma volunteered.

I wasn’t about to run her off, though. “No, you keep working on the donuts.” I turned to Gabby and asked, “Does this really have to be in private? If it does, then we can go up front and talk while we set up.” If she was going to snub Emma and demand a private audience with me, Gabby was going to have to convince me that it was important. Besides, a small part of me was glad that we’d be by the windows, where anyone passing by could see us. It wasn’t that we got a lot of foot traffic at that time of morning, but if Gabby was feeling homicidal toward me, it might just be enough to stop her from acting on her impulse.

“Yes, I’m sorry, but it is.”

“Then you can work with me while we talk.”

Gabby followed me out of the kitchen and into the front with the displays and the dining area, and then asked, “What can I do?”

“We swept last night, so you can put the stools back on the floor and wipe the tables down.”

She began to do as I asked, but paused and said, “I don’t know how sanitary it is to store barstools on tabletops.”

“Everything is clean, and besides, we’re wiping the tables down, too, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so,” she said.

“Did you come here to criticize my hygiene and work practices, or was there something else on your mind? I thought you said that it was important.”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “Suzanne, I haven’t been entirely up front with you.”

“Are you talking about your missing .44 revolver?” I asked.

Gabby looked surprised that I’d already heard the news. “How did you find out, and so quickly? Martin hasn’t been feeding you information about me, has he?”

“No. Don’t forget, I’m good at what I do, too.” I said that with a clear conscience. Martin hadn’t told me anything, Jake had. Just because he’d gotten the information from our chief of police didn’t mean that I had a direct pipeline myself to our local law enforcement.

“It looks bad, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“I suppose it could be worse,” I admitted.

“Give me one example,” Gabby said.

Without thinking, I supplied one. “Someone could have a photograph of you standing over the body with a smoking gun in your hand.”

“I don’t even want to think about that.”

“The gun, the photograph, or the body?” I asked.

“Suzanne, I shouldn’t have to tell you how dangerous it is running a business alone. That gun made me feel safe, and I don’t regret getting it.”

“Where did it go, then? It’s not doing you much good at the moment.”

It might have been a cheap shot, but I took it anyway. Misplacing a handgun was not like losing a set of car keys. She should have known better, and acted more responsibly with it. Who knows what it had been used for once it left her presence?

“I don’t know what happened,” she said, slumping down on a stool and burying her head in her hands. “I didn’t even realize that it was missing until Chief Martin came to the store yesterday demanding to see it. It’s a wonder that I’m not in jail.”

“If we don’t do something quickly, trust me, that status isn’t going to last,” I said.

“Do you still believe me?” Gabby asked as she looked at me, hope filling her gaze.

“I don’t think you’re a cold-blooded killer,” I said. I decided not to add, “I could be wrong, though” to my declaration. It wouldn’t be politic to accuse Gabby until I had rock-solid proof, or unless there was no other choice.

“Thank you, Suzanne,” she said as she stood quickly, moved toward me, and wrapped me in her embrace.

I tenderly pulled away. “Gabby, this isn’t getting us anywhere. I need to open the shop, but as soon as we’re finished at eleven, I’ll take up my investigation again. In the meantime, lay low, and do your best to stay out of trouble.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult. I’m not even opening today,” she said.

Before I could remind her that it might be better if she kept her presence obvious on Springs Drive, she quickly added, “I can’t take the stares and the whispers. I’m going home and locking the door behind me.”

Then again, if Gabby looked as guilty to everyone else as she did to me at the moment, contact with the outside world might be the worst thing she could do. “Maybe you’re right. That could be a better choice.”

Gabby nodded and said, “I thought so. I’m going back home, Suzanne.” She started for the kitchen so she could go out the back, but I peeked outside, and no one was in sight.

“Why don’t you go out this way?” I suggested.

“If it’s all clear, why not?” She did as I asked, and soon disappeared into the darkness.

When I walked back into the kitchen, Emma asked, “You didn’t leave her out front all alone, did you?”

“Relax, she’s gone,” I said. “You really should give Gabby a break.”

“Maybe so, but if you heard some of the things my dad said about her, you’d be jumpy, too.”

“What has he been saying?” I asked. It wouldn’t surprise me if Emma’s dad, as the town newspaper publisher, got information before any of the rest of us, and that included the chief of police.

Emma just shrugged. “I really couldn’t say.”

“Come on, you can tell me,” I said.

“No, I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’m still living there until I can afford to go away to college, so I can’t make any waves.”

“I understand completely,” I said. Emma’s relationship with her father was strained enough as it was, and I didn’t want to add any more pressure to an already volatile situation. I glanced at the trays and saw that they were ready. “Can we put these out for sale?”

“You bet,” Emma said. She glanced at the clock, and then added, “We’re not due to open for another twelve minutes, though.”

“Tell you what. Let’s be real sports and go ahead and open early, just this once.”

“That’s fine with me,” she said. “I’ll get started on the dishes after we finish setting up.”

After we had two coffeepots brewing and the display shelves stocked, we were ready for business.

The only problem was that we didn’t have a single person waiting to get in. Apparently our customer base had already adapted to our new hours, and I wasn’t sure if I was glad about it, or unhappy that they’d changed their habits so quickly.

*   *   *

At just past seven, Terri Milner dropped in. “Suzanne, I’m desperate, and I really need your help,” she said.

“Sure, I’ll do whatever I can,” I said.

“It’s my day to supply snacks for the twins’ party at school. I made cupcakes last night, but when I got up this morning, the dog had eaten or licked every one of them. They’re ruined.”

“That’s bad,” I said. “How many treats do you need?”

“Two dozen,” she said.

“I can handle that, no problem. We could do glazed or cake, so which would you prefer?”

Terri frowned. “That’s the problem. The theme is Being Green, so everything we serve has to be colored green. What am I going to do?”

“Give us five minutes, and we’ll have you covered,” I said. “Green icing is easy enough to make, and we’ll ice a variety of donuts for you to take.”

“No,” she said with a look of pure dread on her face. “They all have to be as nearly identical as you can make them. Otherwise, the children will fight over who gets which donut.”

I didn’t know if that was true or not, but the customer was always right, particularly when they were paying for the privilege. “Fine, twenty-four donuts, each one exactly like the next.”

The relief on her face was clear. “You’re a real lifesaver,” she said.

“What can I say, I do my best. Can I get you some coffee while you wait, and maybe an éclair, as well?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “That would be delightful.”

After I poured Terri a cup of coffee and served her the treat, I peeked in the kitchen and found Emma doing dishes, her iPod earbuds in. After grabbing a tray of two dozen unglazed cake donuts, I took them into the kitchen and set them down near the glazing and icing station, all without being observed by Emma.

It took me three tries to get her attention. I finally had to tap her on the shoulder, and she dropped a stainless steel bowl on the floor when I did.

“You scared the life out of me,” she said as she pulled her buds out.

“Your music may be too loud. What do you think?”

“Sorry,” she said as she pulled the earplugs out. “I just love this song. What’s up?”

“I need enough green icing to cover those donuts, pronto,” I said as I pointed to the tray.

She dried her hands. “Do I even want to know why?”

“Why not? It’s for Terri Milner’s twins.”

She nodded. “I don’t even want to know why they want them. I’ll have them ready in a jiff.”

I walked back out front to tell Terri we were working on her order when I found James Settle, the blacksmith coveting our railroad rails.

“Did you come to make more trouble?” I asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said with a smile as he held up his palms to me. “I just want coffee and a plain cake donut.”

“Okay, that works for me.” I did as he asked, and was surprised to see Terri approaching.

“I’m sorry, but they won’t be ready for a few more minutes,” I explained.

“That’s not why I’m here.” She turned to the blacksmith and said, “Are you still interested in those train tracks?”

“Of course I am,” he said. He looked at me quickly, and then added, “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I got the rights just yesterday.”

“You’re not taking our rails without a fight,” I said.

“He doesn’t have to,” Terri said. “My husband has a client who has a few rails he’d like to get rid of. They were in the way of a building he was putting up, and he didn’t want to sell them for scrap if he could find a good home for them.”

“Does he know I’m going to cut them up?” the blacksmith asked. “I wouldn’t want to take them under false pretenses.”

“All he cares about is that some of their history is preserved. If you’re interested, here’s his number.”

“Do you happen to know how many he has?” Settle asked.

“I’m afraid there aren’t many, maybe forty or so.”

“That’s more than I’d be able to harvest here.” Settle frowned for a moment, and then added, “I can’t pay a lot for them. Do you know how much he wants for the lot?”

Terri smiled. “My husband told me that I could work out a deal for them myself. You make bookends out of them, right?”

“Among other things,” the blacksmith admitted.

“I’m sure a nice set of bookends for his office, and another set for my husband, would be repayment enough. Would you be willing to do that?”