Lemon Larceny (The Donut Mysteries) (16 page)

“What about her?”
Anna asked a little guardedly.

“When precisely did
you see her last?” I asked.
 
“Did
you run into her yesterday morning, by any chance?”

“No, not
yesterday.
 
I didn’t see her,” she
said quickly.
 
“I happened to speak
with her a few days ago at the grocery store, but we didn’t talk about anything
all that earthshattering.
 
Why do
you ask?”

“We’re just
trying to find out anything we can about her last day,” I explained, “so we’re
asking everyone who might have had contact with her.”

“You should talk
to Greta, then.
 
That woman has the
scoop on everyone in town, and she’s not afraid to share any of it.”

“Oh, really?”
Momma asked.
 
“We didn’t find that
to be the case when we spoke with her earlier.”

Anna
frowned.
 
“Maybe that’s because she
doesn’t know you, but ask her again the next you see her and you might get a
surprise.
 
Say, maybe I could help.”

“How is that
possible?” Momma asked.

“If anyone can
get Greta to talk, it’s me.
 
I can
do better than that, though.
 
As a show
of good faith, I’m willing to go all over town hunting people down who might have
spoken to your aunt over the past few days.”

“Thanks, but that
won’t be necessary,” I said.

“Nonsense.
 
I’m happy to do it.”

Did this woman honestly
think that she was offering me something I needed from her in order to get into
my good graces?
 
I wasn’t sure how
to tell her that she’d most likely just muddy the waters instead of helping our
investigation.

“No, I really don’t
think that’s a good idea,” I said, much firmer this time.
 
I might have been a little too strong,
because the woman clearly shut down instantly.

“Of course.
 
I understand.
 
Sorry to bother you with my offer.”
 
Then the daft woman stood and walked
toward her front door.
 
What was she
doing?
 
“If you will excuse me, I
have a few phone calls to make.”
 
After Anna said that, she added quickly, “Nothing about Jean, rest
assured.
  
You don’t have to
worry about me doing that now.”

In the end, Momma
and I had no recourse but to leave.
 

As we were
walking out the door, I said, “If you think of anything else, you know where to
find us.”

“I sure do.
 
You’ll be up there, staying in my dream
house.”

“Is that woman actually
serious?” Momma asked as we drove the short distance to my aunt’s house.
 
It would be all mine soon enough, I
supposed, though I was in no hurry to inherit it, or anything else Aunt Jean
had left me.
 
I would have rather
had her back with me, laughing and joking, than a thousand times the money Anna
had just offered me for her home.

“She’s obsessed,”
I said as Momma pulled up and parked outside.
 
I looked up at the rambling old
house.
 
“I don’t get it.
 
It needs a coat of paint and a
landscaper at the very least, and we both know it has more than its share of
flaws on the inside.”

“That’s no way to
speak of your late aunt’s home,” Momma said.

“You’re
right.
 
I’m sorry.
 
I didn’t mean any disrespect to Aunt
Jean.
 
I just don’t know why Anna
wants this place so badly.”

“Is there any
chance that what she told us is the complete and unvarnished truth?” Momma
asked me.

“Do you think she’s
really lusted after this place her entire life?”

“It’s possible,”
my mother said.
 
“Some people focus
on one thing in their lives, believing that it will finally make them truly
happy.
 
It’s only after they get it
that most times they find that they were wrong all along.”

“It’s sad to put
that much stock in material things,” I said.

“I agree, but it
seems to be the way of the world these days, and if I’m being honest about it, it’s
probably been like that for a very long time.
 
Lust, even for someone’s physical
possessions, can drive reason out the door.”

“Are you saying
that Anna might have killed Aunt Jean when she wouldn’t sell her this house?” I
asked as I unlocked the front door.

“It’s a
possibility that we have to consider,” Momma admitted.

“So that means that
she didn’t kill Aunt Jean out of malice; she just wanted the house.
 
Or she did kill her believing that was
the only way it would ever be for sale?”

“I can imagine
either scenario being true,” my mother said.

“Sadly, I can, but
that still doesn’t do us any good.
 
We’re no closer to finding the killer than we were when we first got
here.”

“There’s
something I’ve been wanting to mention,” Momma said.
 
“Have we been taking Jean’s journal
entries and her suspicions too seriously?”

“What do you
mean?” I asked as I looked out the window.
 
It was clouding up again, and I had a hunch that we were in for another
storm.

“Suzanne, what if
it all was just a tragic accident like everyone else believes?”

I shrugged.
 
“I suppose it’s possible, but what good
does it do us to accept that?
 
If it
was
an accident, then there’s no one
to punish.
 
We just lost someone we
both love for no reason at all.”

“It is a sad way
to look at it, isn’t it?” Momma asked.

“Yes, but I have
to admit that I’ve been thinking about the possibility, too.
 
I have an idea what we can do about it,
though.”

“Go on, I’m
listening,” Momma said.

“Why don’t we
look for actual proof?”

My mother looked
startled by the question.
 
“How do
you suggest we go about that?
 
We
looked everywhere, but we couldn’t find any video cameras.”

“Maybe not, but there
might be other clues that everyone else has missed so far,” I said as I mounted
the steps to the landing where my aunt taken her fall.

“Do you actually believe
that we might be able to find something that the police missed?” Momma
asked.
 
“That’s too incredible to
even consider, Suzanne.”

“You never
know.
 
After all, it’s happened
before,” I said as I knelt down on the top step.
 
“Sometimes it helps if you have an
overly suspicious mind.”

“Well, you’ve
certainly got one of those.
 
What
exactly is it that you are you looking for?”

“To be honest
with you, I’m not sure yet,” I said as I examined the upper baluster.
 
Was there something there, a slight
indentation, perhaps?
 
“Momma, would
you grab one of the most powerful flashlights that you can find for me?”

As she glanced
out the nearest window, Momma said, “Suzanne, I know the sky is growing cloudy,
but it’s not raining yet.”

“It’s not for a
power outage.
 
I want to be able to
see something better,” I said as I rubbed my fingertip across the indentation
again and again.

“Certainly,” Momma
said, and she was back in a flash.
 
She
handed a large flashlight to me, and I turned it on.
 
Once I had the new and more focused
light source, I ran it across the wood where my fingers had noticed the trace
of a depression.

“Check this out,”
I said.

Momma knelt
beside me, and then she studied where I held the beam of light.
 
“What exactly am I looking for?”

“It might help if
you feel it first,” I said.
 
I took
her hand in mine and rubbed it over the indentation.
 
“There.
 
Do you feel that?”

“Yes, there’s
something obviously there.
 
But what
does it have to do with what happened to my sister?”

“Momma, I think
someone strung a taut, thin wire here, maybe fishing line, across the top balusters,”
I said as played the beam over the opposing post.
 
It was slighter there, but I felt an
indentation in the wood there as well.
 
“That settles it.
 
Someone must
have slipped in after she was in bed and booby-trapped these steps.
 
When her foot reached out for the first
one, it must have caught on the line and sent her tumbling down the
stairs.
 
In her weakened condition,
it didn’t take much to kill her.”

I looked up to
see Momma dialing her phone.

I grabbed her
hand and stopped her before she could complete the call.
 

“What did you do
that for?” she asked me.

“Who were you
about to call?” I asked her.

“Chief Kessler,
of course,” she said.

“Do you mean one
of our suspects?” I asked her levelly.

“Yes, I can see
where that might be an issue.
 
I
have another idea, though,” she said as she cleared the number and started to
dial another one.
 

I stopped her
again.

“Suzanne, would
you please stop doing that?
 
It’s
most irritating.”

“I don’t even
have to guess who you’re calling now.
 
You were about to phone your new husband, weren’t you?”

“What if I were?”
Momma asked.
 
“He’s perfectly
capable of solving this crime.”

“He is, but he’s
not the right choice for this one.”

Momma frowned at
me.
 
“And I suppose your boyfriend
is, is that what you’re thinking?”

“Momma, I know
that Chief Martin is a good cop, but it
has
to be Jake.”

“Would you mind
explaining why?”

“As a state
police investigator, he has jurisdiction within the entire state of North
Carolina, whereas your husband does not.”

That seemed to
mollify my mother.
 
As she put her
phone away, she said, “I see your point.”

“Thank you.
 
It’s nothing personal,” I said.

“Suzanne, what
are you waiting for?
 
We have direct
evidence that someone killed my sister, and we need Jake here to see it.”

“Momma, I’ll try
to reach him, but he’s on a case right now across the state.”

“He’ll drop it if
you ask him to.
 
After all, it’s not
like he hasn’t done it before,” Momma said.

“True, but those
circumstances were pretty dire, weren’t they?”

“And these aren’t?
 
Are you telling me that your aunt
deserves anything less than we can provide for her?
 
Suzanne, need I remind you that now that
she’s gone, we’re the only advocates left for her?
 
At least call Jake and ask him.”

“You’re right,” I
said as I grabbed my own cellphone.
 
“I’ll call him, but I’m not making any promises.”

“All you can do
is try,” she said.

“Tell me the
truth.
 
This was your intention all
along, wasn’t it?”

“Of course not,”
she protested, even though it sounded rather insincere to me.

“Momma,” I said.

“Perhaps the
thought crossed my mind, but only because your arguments made so much sense.”

It was clear that
she wasn’t going to admit what she’d done, so I decided to drop it.
 
I stepped away and dialed Jake’s number,
hoping that he’d be able to come.

Unfortunately, my
call went straight to voicemail, which meant that something was happening that
required all of Jake’s attention on his end.
 
When I got the suggestion to leave him a
message, I said, “Jake, this is Suzanne.
 
Call me as soon as you get this, day or night.
 
There’s been a development that I need
to discuss with you.”
 
I suddenly
realized how dire that might sound to him, so before the message ended, I
added, “Momma and I are both safe, so you don’t have to drop everything and
rush up here, but I need to talk to you about something that we found.
 
Did I make that clear enough?
 
It’s important, but not life
threatening.
 
I hate these machines—”

It cut me off
before I could finish my thought, which was probably just as well.

“It sounded as
though you left him a message,” Momma said as I rejoined her.

“I really didn’t
have much choice,” I said.
 
“Don’t
worry.
 
He’ll call me back as soon
as he can.”

“I know that Jake
is reliable.
 
The next question is,
what do we do in the meantime?”

“I don’t know
about you, but I could eat a bite.”

“Suzanne, we had
lunch not three hours ago, and now you’re telling me that you’re hungry again?”

“What can I
say?
 
I feel like nibbling on
something.
 
Care to join me raiding
Aunt Jean’s cupboards?”

“Why not?” Momma
said, a hint of exasperation clear in her voice.
 

We never got that
snack, though, at least not as soon as I’d hoped.

After rooting
around in her pantry for a few minutes, I found something that made me lose my
appetite altogether.