Sinister Sprinkles (17 page)

As we all walked into the living room, Ray nodded toward Momma and Grace, and then told Emma, “Go on. Say what you need to say.”

“Suzanne, I’m sorry about what happened today, and I’ve come to make things right with you.” She held out a wad of bills that I knew would add up to exactly what we’d lost that morning.

I steadfastly refused to take it as I said, “Put that away, Emma. We’ve already resolved this.”

“That’s what I told him, but he wouldn’t listen,” Emma said, her glance going furtively back to her father.

I said, “Ray, you want your daughter to be a grownup, don’t you?”

“That’s why we’re here,” he said stubbornly.

“No, you’re here to impose your sense of how this should be handled, not Emma’s or mine. I won’t take her money. It was just as much my fault as it was hers. She’s a levelheaded, responsible, hard-working young woman. What more do you expect from her, Ray?”

He frowned. “I want her to do what’s right.”

“She already has,” I said, my voice getting louder than it should have. I couldn’t help it.

“Suzanne, watch your tone of voice,” my mother said.

“Momma, I love you with all my heart, and you know it, but this doesn’t concern you. Let me handle it.”

She looked taken aback, then nodded. “Grace, I believe we have a table of dishes to clear. If you all will excuse us, we’ll get to them.”

Grace followed her back into the dining room, and as soon as they were gone, Ray said, “I have to say that I’m not surprised you talk to your own mother that way.”

I had to do something shocking to get his attention, or he wouldn’t hear anything else I had to say. “I was hoping you’d get the point. You’re trying to dictate Emma’s actions just like my mother’s been trying to do to me for years. And if I were Emma, I’d treat you the same way. That’s exactly what you deserve at the moment.”

I saw his jaw jut out, so I eased the harshness of my tone as I added, “Ray, you two didn’t need to come here. Do you honestly think Emma hasn’t already apologized for what happened? She feels bad enough about it without you rubbing her nose in it. She’s not nine years old anymore.”

Ray started to say something, then bit it back. He tugged at his daughter’s arm and said, “Come on, Emma. We’re leaving.”

“In a second,” she said as she lunged forward and hugged me. “Thank you,” she whispered in my ear. “Nobody’s ever stood up to him for me before.”

“Then it’s high time somebody did,” I said softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“If he lets me come to work,” Emma said before she caught up with him at their car.

I closed the door and found Grace standing in the doorway. She said, “What was that about? Or do I even need to ask?”

“Ray still thinks Emma’s a little girl, and I had to spank him pretty hard to get him to see that she’s not.”

“He’s not the only one you spanked,” Grace said softly.

“I know, but she shouldn’t have said anything, especially while I was trying to make a point.”

“I agree with you a hundred percent,” Grace said.

“But you still think I need to apologize.”

“I never said that,” Grace said as her gaze stayed steadily on me.

“No, but you’re thinking it.”

She smiled. “Suzanne, how on earth could you know what I’m thinking?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, remember? Okay, I guess it’s time for me to go eat a little crow.”

“Sometimes it’s the only meal we can get,” she said. “I’ll give you some privacy, so at least you won’t have to do it in front of an audience.”

“Thanks. This won’t take long. I’ve grown pretty adept at saying I’m sorry.”

I walked into the kitchen, but before I could say a word, Momma said, “Suzanne, I owe you an apology. I barked out at you as a reaction, not as a consciously formed thought. You’re a grown woman, and I trust your judgment to use harsh words if they are required to get someone’s attention. Do you forgive me?”

I couldn’t help myself; I hugged her as I said, “Only if you promise to forgive me, too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“Well, it certainly got
my
attention,” she said as she pulled away. “How did Ray take it?”

“He wasn’t too pleased with me, but at least it might have deflected a little heat away from Emma. I understand the way he feels, but he needs to let her lead her own life. Emma’s everything I said she was, only he seems to have trouble seeing it.”

“It’s not easy for a parent to let go,” she said.

“I know. Do you think I owe him an apology?”

“I doubt it would do much good at this point,” Momma said. “You gave him some things to think about, and I’ve got a feeling Ray Blake is going to have a pretty sleepless night ahead of him.”

“How do you know what I said to him?”

She smiled. “I eavesdropped, of course. Suzanne, this is still my house, no matter who else is living here. Now, why don’t we serve dessert by the fire? I know the snow’s stopped, but it would be nice to eat in the glow from the Christmas tree and the flickering flames of the fireplace. I so love this time of year.”

“It must be hereditary, because so do I,” I said. “What are we having?”

“I made a trifle,” she said.

“Yum. Should we divvy it up, or should we just grab three spoons and attack it all at once?”

“I think plates and spoons are in order,” she said.

“Spoilsport,” I said with a laugh as I helped her grab three plates, some spoons, and a handful of napkins. Momma got the trifle, and after plating up three portions, we carried them into the living room, where Grace was sitting staring at the fire.

When she looked up at us, I could swear that she’d been crying, and I wondered what had triggered it in her. I wouldn’t ask, though. I’d learned long ago that if Grace wanted to share something with me, she’d do it on her own schedule, and not mine. It had been a hard lesson to learn not to comfort my friend when she was in such obvious need of it, but learn it I had.

“Who wants trifle?” I said, trying to pump a little joy into my voice.

“That looks wonderful,” she said, the tears now wiped away as she took a plate from me.

“I’ve always loved a good trifle,” my mother said.

“Me, I’ll eat whatever dessert you decide to make that day,” I said. “Just no donuts. I sample enough of those as I’m working to last me the rest of the day.”

“You probably shouldn’t sample your wares so much, Suzanne,” my mother said with a smile.

“There are a great many things I shouldn’t do, but I can’t seem to help myself,” I replied.

Momma laughed, and it filled the room with the warmth of its glow more than the fireplace could. “That does seem to be a family curse, doesn’t it?”

We finished our desserts as we watched the fire, then Momma collected the dishes and said, “If you ladies will excuse me, I got a new book today that I’m dying to read, so I’m going to call it an early night.”

After she excused herself, Grace looked over at me and said, “She did that on purpose. She wants us to have time to talk.”

“She saw you crying, too,” I said gently. I was walking a fine line here, and I knew it, but I wanted Grace to know that we both cared about her, and we wanted to help her if we could.

“That was nothing,” she said.

I shook my head. “I know nothing when I see it.” She grinned at me, and I suddenly realized how ridiculous it must have sounded. “You know what I mean.”

“If it’s all the same to you, what I’d really like to talk about is what we found at Darlene’s apartment, and what Cynthia told us. The fact that Muriel is broke should come up, too.”

“It’s a lot to process for one day, isn’t it?” I said. “Where should we start?”

“Definitely with Cynthia,” Grace said. “First off, was she telling the truth about the fight between Wilma and Darlene?”

“Why would she lie?” I asked. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that she hadn’t been telling us the truth.

“Who knows? Maybe she’s hiding a fight she had with Darlene herself. Or maybe Wilma’s done something to her, and this is her way of getting her back.”

I thought about that, but it just didn’t add up in my mind. “I don’t know, I had the feeling Cynthia was telling us the truth.”

“I did, too,” Grace said, “but we can’t accept everything we hear at face value. We have to question everything people tell us.”

“So how do we prove if it’s true or not?”

Grace frowned. “There’s only one way I can think of. We have to ask one of the other beauticians.”

“If you think I’m getting back into one of those chairs, you’ve lost your mind. It’s your turn this time, Grace.”

She shook her head. “I was thinking of something a little more subtle. Why don’t we take a dozen donuts by the salon in the morning, and we can question one of them then.”

“Do you think I should really leave Emma by herself so soon after what happened?” I wasn’t sure how she’d react, and I didn’t know if I wanted to know, either.

“What better way to show her that you trust her? I’m sure she needs a little ego boost after being marched over here this evening like a child.”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right,” I said. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Now, how about the things we found at Darlene’s?”

As we put our collected piles on the coffee table in front of the fireplace, I said, “I’m beginning to have second thoughts about taking all of this. We could have really mucked up a police investigation this time.”

Grace said, “I don’t see how. Chief Martin should have searched Darlene’s room the day she died, and if he hasn’t gone by there yet to look around, do you honestly think he ever will? Somebody’s got to dig into this, Suzanne. Why not us?”

“Why not?” I echoed. I wasn’t sure the chief would agree with our line of reasoning—and I knew Jake would have protested—but then again, he wasn’t in the picture anymore, was he? It was up to me and my friends to figure out if that deadly candy cane had been meant for Darlene or Muriel, and more importantly, why someone had decided to kill either one of them.

I picked up the photograph of me, then felt my fingers shake as I stared at it. “This was taken in front of the donut shop,” I said. “And it was right around Easter.”

Grace glanced at the photo. “How can you be so sure?”

“Look through the window. I have poster-sized Easter eggs hanging up behind the counter.”

She looked a little closer, then nodded. “I see them now. What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s pretty clear that she took this picture nine months ago.”

“I know that, I can count as well as you can. I just don’t understand why.”

“Join the club,” I said as I pushed the photo away. I refused to touch the lock of hair, though it did look like it could have easily belonged to Max. The five tattered bills lay there, and they had a story to tell, I was sure of it, if only I was smart enough to figure out what it was. I examined each bill in turn, and had just about given up finding a clue when I saw a three-digit number carefully hand-lettered on the edge of the back of one of the bills. It looked familiar, and in a second, I realized why. Searching through the business cards I’d found in Darlene’s purse, I found the perfect match to the number on the bill.

As I turned the card over to see who it belonged to, Grace asked me, “Suzanne, did you find something that I missed?”

“I think I may have found another clue,” I said, as I stared at the name embossed on the other side.

BLUEBERRY SURPRISES

These blueberry treats are perfect on cold days. They promise to warm you up, especially if you snack on them with some coffee or hot chocolate.

INGREDIENTS

• 1 package blueberry muffin mix (7 ounces)

•
3
⁄
4
cup flour

•
3
⁄
4
cup buttermilk

• 1 egg, beaten

• Fresh blueberries (optional, and certainly not required, but they make a nice addition to the treats)

DIRECTIONS

Add the flour to the powdered muffin mix, then add the beaten egg and buttermilk. Stir everything together until the dry ingredients are all absorbed into the liquid, but don’t overstir the mix.

In canola oil heated to 360°F, drop in half-teaspoon-sized bits of batter. Turn them once as they brown, then drain on paper towels and add powdered sugar if desired.

CHAPTER 9

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “Who does the card belong to? And how does it tie into the murder?”

I studied it another second, then said, “I’m not positive it’s connected to Darlene’s death, but it is kind of fishy, wouldn’t you say?”

“If you’re not going to tell me whose name is on it, give me the card so I can see for myself, Suzanne.”

I held it up long enough for her to read the name on it.

She whistled. “Why would Darlene have a card from Lester Moorefield? I didn’t even realize Lester had business cards.”

Lester was the morning news voice on our radio, local station WAPS. I doubt they had more than a thousand listeners, and yet Lester prided himself on breaking big scoops over our newspaper. He and Ray had a heated rivalry, and each one loved to beat the other to a story.

But that didn’t explain why Darlene had a hundred-dollar-bill in her possession that matched an odd, three-digit number written on the back of Lester’s business card.

“I know there’s got to be a reason for this,” Grace said. “But I can’t imagine for the life of me what it is.”

“There’s only one way we’re going to find out,” I said as I tapped the card on the table. “We’re going to have to ask him.”

“That’s not going to be fun, is it?” Grace said.

“I completely understand if you want to take a pass on it.”

“Are you kidding? I signed on for the whole investigation. Maybe between the two of us we’ll be able to come up with a way to question him tomorrow morning after his shift on the radio is over.”

“Does that mean you’re coming to work with me again tomorrow?” I asked as I glanced at the clock. It was just after nine, and technically past my bedtime, but with Grace staying with us until the further notice, I’d found that I kept pushing my the hour back, and that meant less and less sleep for me.