Chocolate-Covered Crime (22 page)

“Got enough information? I’m not reading anymore.” Aunt Eunice scooped the papers back in a pile and thrust them at me. “What now?”

“Well, it’s not proof that Sherry is Lola, but it might be enough for Joe to dig deeper into her e-mails.” Relief flooded through me after not being able to access Sherry’s files. No telling what I would’ve wandered into.

I sat on the bed, my arms full of indecent proposals. Had Sherry tried escaping the twister in my car, lost control, wrecked, then run off? My gut told me she’d been the one driving it during the storm. Or had someone taken her from the car after it crashed through the store? If she did have something on Mae Belle, what was it? Was she holding Mae Belle’s fling with Lewis Anderson over my cousin’s head? Why? I sighed. The more answers I got, the more questions that arose.

I glanced at my watch. The men’s lunch would be over soon. My next stop would have to wait another day. And with tomorrow being Monday, work would take up most of my time. I shrugged. If I couldn’t solve Mae Belle’s murder, maybe this pile of illicit material would give Joe and the other officers enough to head them in the right direction.

“Let’s go.” I stood. “We’ll stop by the station. Joe’s on duty, and we can get this tras
∼
h out of our possession.”

Joe set the papers in the center of his desk blotter and stared at me and Aunt Eunice with eyes the color of slate. I squirmed on the hard plastic chair. My cousin’s cheeks were Arkansas Razorback red. Two burning spots of color high on his cheekbones. He chewed the inside of his mouth then sighed.

“Ya’ll read these, I suppose.”

“Do they help?” I leaned forward. I couldn’t tell if he was upset because we’d read them or because we’d exposed ourselves to the filth.

“They might. Gives us reason to think Sherry might be in danger and not just on vacation somewhere.”

“You thought she took a trip?” Really. Country cops.

He shook his head. “No.” His answer dripped sarcasm. “It was just a theory.” Joe pushed a button on his phone. “Send McHale in here.”

A few minutes later, the officer poked his head around the door. “You wanted to see me?”

Joe scribbled Sherry’s address on a slip of paper and handed it to the officer. “I need you to confiscate the computer at this address. Then send it to someone who can find a way to access it. Grab any printed sheets lying around.”

“Yes, sir.” Officer McHale disappeared.

Joe turned his attention back to us. “Summer, Aunt Eunice. Thank you for your help, but I’ll take it from here. Three people are dead. One’s missing, and someone tried grabbing you at the party. No more snooping, no more questioning, no more anything. Am I making myself clear?”

“Perfectly.” I rose. Aunt Eunice followed. “But I can’t promise, Joe. I’m on a new track. One of complete honesty. I can tell you that if I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.” I shot him a quick grin and strode from his office.

“Are we going home now?” Aunt Eunice’s eyes twinkled. “Or do you have something else up your sleeve?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I hunched over the tray of unrolled strawberry creams and pouted as I rolled tablespoon-sized portions into balls. Lewis Anderson hadn’t been at the funeral home when Aunt Eunice and I stopped by yesterday. I called Joe early this morning, and he wouldn’t tell whether he suspected Sherry of being Lola or not. If no one would cooperate, how could I solve this? Any more trouble and Joe would be forced to call in the state police or the FBI. Then I’d definitely be out of the loop. I didn’t think they’d wire me and use me as bait like in the past.

Pink balls of candy lined the tray. My hands worked quickly while my mind raced. Speaking of the state police, why hadn’t Joe called them in already? Did my cousin believe he was getting somewhere on the case? Did he think he could take care of things on his own?

Was he withholding information from me? I frowned and rolled my head on my shoulders. With this being my third mystery, I expected at least a small amount of professional courtesy from Joe.

I squeezed too hard, flattening the ball of soft cream and had to reroll. I had half a mind to confront him but knew he’d only tell me to mind my own business and stay out of what didn’t concern me.

The bell over the door jingled. I jumped, dropping the cream on the floor. While Ruby and Mabel argued over who should enter first, I smiled and wiped my hands on my apron.

“Good morning, ladies.” I stepped to the counter and leaned on my elbows. Experience told me it’d take them awhile to decide on their weekly two-pound box to take to their ladies auxiliary club.

The two perused the display after greeting me. “I think we should go with the maple creams. The girls really love them.” Ruby folded her arms.

“We always get those.” Mabel frowned. “Let’s go with chocolate-covered orange peel and pineapple. Broaden our horizons.”

“Why change something if there’s nothing wrong with it?”

“Why don’t I pack an assortment?” I asked the same question every week and waited for the usual answer.

“If we get an assortment,” Ruby spoke up, “we’ll get some that we won’t like. No one will eat them. Waste not, want not.” Mabel nodded in agreement.

“Here’s a great idea. Why don’t the two of you pick the assortment?” I waited for the next line. Same thing every week. Same as clockwork, but I believed I loved the game as much as they did.

“Summer, you know we can’t agree if we pick an assortment.” Mabel plunked her oversize purse on the counter. “You have way too many choices.”

The bell announced another customer, and I left the two friends-slash-archenemies to hash it out. Their argument ended when they turned with me, and we watched Mason White step into the store.

His normally immaculate hair stuck out in messy spikes. Wrinkles and grease marked his linen trousers.

Alarmed, I moved from behind the counter. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head and sagged against the café table in front of the window. “Minor accident.” He waved a hand in my direction. “I’ll be fine in a moment. A drink of water would be nice.”

Ruby shoved through the waist-high saloon doors that separated the work area from the front of the store. “I’ll get it. Summer, you see to the boy.”

I helped Mason into a chair then peeked out the front window. “Where’s your car?”

“The highway.” He leaned his head onto folded arms.

“Um.” I chewed my lower lip. “Why’d you come all the way into town instead of waiting for emergency vehicles?” I peered closer at him. “Did you hit your head?” I held up two fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Mason slapped my hand away. “Fine. I lied. I wasn’t in an accident. Not exactly.”

“Then why do you look like that?” Ruby plopped a plastic cup of water in front of him, sloshing some onto the table.

“I’m a wreck since Renee’s murder. I haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept. Bill Olson wants to kill me. Then that old woman dying.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Someone set my toolshed on fire. The whole town thinks I’m a murderer.”

“Not the whole town.” Mabel sat in the chair across from him. “If they did, they’d probably tar and feather you.”

Mason paled beneath his salon tan.

Mabel guffawed. “I’m just joshing you. We don’t do that anymore. You still haven’t told us why you came here.”

He looked to me for help. “I don’t want to talk to you two. Not with y’all working for the paper.”

Mabel’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “This is off the record, sonny.”

“Sure it is.” I took Mason by the arm and helped him to his feet. “Go on home, Mason. I’ll stop by your place when I leave here.” No way was I going to let Ruby and Mabel know that Mason had “hired” me to help find Renee’s murderer. Then the whole town would know.

He whispered in my ear as I pushed him out the door. “I’ve found out something.”

My heart leaped. The day
wouldn’t pass fast enough.

“Okay, Mason. Tell.” I sat across the kitchen table from him, nursing a tall glass of diet cola. At least the man had the presence of mind to clean himself up. He again looked like the Mason I knew. “What did you find out?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “Someone bashed me in the head this morning as I walked to my car. Left me lying in the dirt. They would’ve most likely finished me off if the garbage truck hadn’t come by.”

“Did you see who did it?”

“No. Got me from behind. I went in to see you as soon as I came to my senses.”

“No offense, Mason, but it doesn’t help me much.” I ran a finger down the condensation of my glass, leaving swirling patterns. “You said you found something out.”

“Have you done any better?”

I jerked my head up at his sharp tone. Joe’s voice in my head about jeopardizing the investigation made me choose my words carefully. “I’m getting there.” I leaned forward. “But there was a note left on Edna’s body that leads me to believe that the males paired with the murdered females are now in jeopardy. That would be you, Hubert, and Lewis Anderson.”

He folded his hands behind his head and stared past my left shoulder so intensely that I couldn’t help but glance in that direction. Nothing. Mason licked his lips. “Guess I’d best take a vacation then.”

“You can’t leave during a murder investigation, Mason.” Joe would kill me.

“I’m not staying here to join the ranks of victims.” He surged to his feet. “I’ve got a place in the mountains.” He grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled an address on a napkin. “If your cousin needs to reach me, I’ll be here. I don’t need to ask you not to give the address to anyone else, do I?”

“I’m not stupid.”

“No, Summer, you aren’t.” He cupped my cheek, giving me a tender look. “If you weren’t so wrapped up in Ethan, you and I could’ve had something. You’re a looker. Inside and out. Wish I had what you have. That strength.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead and bolted from the room.

I prayed I hadn’t just let a killer dash from the room. I wished I’d had time to tell him my strength came from

God. Somehow, despite his bravado, often cloying attempts at charm, and obvious lies about how much he cared for Renee, I still believed Mason innocent.
Please, God, don’t let Joe throw me in jail for letting the man go.

A clock in another room chimed six o’clock, and I rose. An engine roared to life from the front of the house, and I looked out the window to the sight of Mason racing down the highway in his red Porsche. I sighed and grabbed my purse.

Back home, Aunt Eunice had left a note on the kitchen table informing me that she and Uncle Roy had gone to the movies and not to wait up for them. I smiled. They’d be home at least an hour before I went to bed. They hadn’t gone to a late show in at least ten years.

After playing a quick game of hide-and-seek with Truly, I grabbed a bag of chips, poured myself another diet cola, then dumped my notes from the tote bag onto the table. Over the crunching of the chips, I tried wrapping my mind around my lack of clues.

Truly begged at my feet, her eyes imploring me for a taste of salty potato chip. Trashcan took up what looked like permanent residence smack in the middle of my stack of papers and refused to budge at the wave of my hand. Instead, the little imp pawed back.

I twirled a pencil and resorted back to thinking. Renee. . . dead. Edna. . .same. Mason. . .on a forced vacation. Sherry. . . missing. Hubert, Lewis, and Larry. . .Something nagged at the back of my brain with those three. Then there was Bill Olson. Angry, hurt, and with a strong enough motive to commit murder. My gut told me Sherry was at the center of it all, but where was the woman?

I leaned back in the chair, balancing on the back legs. If I only had the skills of Nancy Drew, Miss Marple, Sherlock Holmes, even dear Dr. Watson. At this point, I’d take the wacky crime-solving talents of Scooby-Doo.

Come on, Lord. What am I missing?

The phone rang, startling me. The chair tilted. I squeaked. Trashcan leaped from the table, scattering my notes. Truly slid under the table. My arms windmilled as I reached, without success, for the table to steady me. Over the commotion came the musical melody of the doorbell.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I grabbed the phone as I crashed to the hard wooden floor. “Hello?”

“Summer?”

“Hi, Ethan.” I grunted in pain as I struggled to my feet. “Are you all right?”

“I fell. Let me. . .catch my breath.” I set the phone down and bent over against the pain in my side where I’d landed on the arm of the chair. By the time I got back to Ethan, he’d hung up. I knew him well enough to know he was on his way over. My knight in shining armor.

I shuffled, hunched over, to answer the still-ringing doorbell. I yanked it open to the sight of Bill Olson, finger poised over the button to push again.