Powdered Peril (18 page)

“Just take ’em to the curb. Tomorrow’s trash day.”

We did as he asked, and when we got back to the tables, he was wiping them down using spray cleaner and paper towels. Once they were clean, Grace and I dried them off, and I grabbed the first box.

“What are you doing?” Bryan asked.

“We’re just trying to help.”

He took the box from me, and then he put it back where it had been. “Thanks for your offer, but I’m taking a break before I dig into those.”

“Bryan, we’ve already seen what’s in them, remember?” I reminded him.

He nodded. “I know, but this is thirsty work. Either one of you care for a beer?”

I shook my head. “No, but a Coke would be great.”

“I just have Pepsi,” he said.

“Pepsi’s fine,” Grace said.

“Be back in a second.”

He walked into the house, and as he was retrieving our drinks, I asked Grace, “Any thoughts on how to approach him? How much harder can we push him?”

“Bryan never was one for subtlety,” Grace said. “I’m beginning to think that we should tell him what we’re doing up front, and ask him to help us find his brother’s killer.”

I was surprised by the suggestion. “Do you think he’d actually respond to that?”

“Not a chance,” Grace said, laughing just a little. “But how is he going to be able to refuse us, unless he’s the killer himself? We might not get anything out of him, but we might just get some answers.”

“That’s a smart idea,” I said.

“I have my moments.”

Bryan walked back out with four cans: two sodas for us, and two beers for him. “It’s getting kind of warm out here,” he said.

“April does that,” I answered. After we’d all taken drinks, I said, “You’re probably wondering why we’re here.”

“You’re snooping,” he said, and then took another sip.

I was about to protest, when Grace spoke up. “That’s right,” she agreed. “We’re going to find out who killed your brother, and we came to you for help. You probably want the murderer found even more than we do.”

Bryan took a drink, whether because he was thirsty, or because he wanted to buy some time to think, I didn’t know. After he finished a long swallow, he said, “Sure, of course I do. What can I do to help?”

“Who do you know who might have wanted to see your brother dead?” Grace asked softly.

“Who didn’t? Seriously, between his business and his love life, the man was a mess. I don’t know why our folks always thought that he was the one who would turn out the best. I’m going to miss him, there’s no doubt about that. But I don’t have any names for you. Sorry, there’s really nothing I can do.”

“Well, you can let us take your name off our list so we can focus on who really killed your brother,” I said. “Do you have an alibi for the night he was murdered, and the early morning hours afterward?”

Bryan looked at me angrily. “Are you harping on that again? I can’t believe you think I’d kill my own brother.”

“It happens, no matter how much people don’t like to acknowledge it,” I said. “So, where were you?”

“I was with a friend of mine all night until six the next morning,” Bryan said.

“A woman?” I asked him.

“It sure wasn’t a dude,” Bryan said with a bit of a laugh.

“Tell us her name,” Grace said. “And we can clear it up in a heartbeat.”

“It’s not that easy,” Bryan said. “She doesn’t want me spreading her name around any more than I have to. I already told the cops. If you want to find out, go ask them.”

This was all news to me, but then again, the chief of police didn’t exactly keep me updated on how his murder investigations were progressing, despite how much I wished that he would. “If you told him, you can share it with us. We’re discreet,” I said.

Bryan shook his head. “Listen, she’s ticked off at me enough already without having you two snooping around in this mess.” He looked at the boxes, and then said, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll tackle the rest of these myself.”

“We’d be glad to help,” I said, but Bryan just shook his head.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

*   *   *

After we left Bryan to his boxes, we made our way out of the neighborhood.

I asked Grace, “Is it just me, or do you feel we’re being stonewalled everywhere we turn? Why won’t people give us their alibis? All they seem to want to do is point fingers at everyone else.”

“Can you really blame them?” Grace asked. “Most of them probably don’t even have alibis. Peter was last seen when, exactly?”

“The last I heard, it was between ten at night and five the next morning when the police found him,” I said.

“Now, think about how many people are home alone during those hours. Not everyone keeps your crazy schedule, so they probably weren’t all asleep, but I’m guessing most of them were home alone. It’s a tough alibi to prove or disprove.”

“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” I said, struck by sudden inspiration. “Who was the last person who admitted to seeing Peter alive?”

“Do you mean besides me? I’m guessing that has to be Trish. She threw him out of the Boxcar Grill for being drunk and disorderly.” Grace paused, and then asked, “You don’t think she had anything to do with Peter’s murder, do you?”

“Of course not,” I answered, not even giving the question the dignity of the least amount of thought. “If there are four people in the world I know are innocent besides me, she’s one of them.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Grace asked, “Did I make the list?”

“Of course you did,” I said, trying my best to reassure her.

“Then who else is on it? I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that Momma didn’t do it, and I could swear under oath that Jake didn’t kill him.”

Grace whistled as she pulled over to the curb. “And everyone else in town is a suspect?”

I smiled. “Not just in April Springs. I’d have to say that we have a ten-county radius of potential killers.”

“That’s not going to make it easy finding the murderer then, is it?”

“Hey, don’t give up on me. If it were that easy, everyone would be able to do it,” I said.

Grace’s car was still idling, and she reached into the backseat, flipped open the donut box lid, and selected one of the last few remaining treats. After she took a bite, she asked, “We’re not going to need these, are we?”

“Help yourself,” I said. “If you don’t mind driving while you eat, why don’t we go to the Boxcar Grill and see if we can get Trish alone? I want to hear every detail about what happened when she threw Peter out, and more importantly, who else was at the diner when she did.”

“They didn’t necessarily have to be eating there,” Grace said.

“No, but what good does it do us to assume that it was someone else lurking in the shadows? It’s going to be a lot harder to find the killer if they weren’t even around the Boxcar the night of the murder, so we might as well work on the assumption that they were there as well.”

“Okay, at least it sounds like a plan, but I have another thought.”

“Go on, I’m always eager to hear what you’ve got to say,” I said.

“After we get a list of names of folks who were at the Boxcar when it happened, why don’t we ask them if they happened to see anyone outside, either when they went in, or when they left?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “Let’s go talk to Trish.”

CHAPTER 13

“Trish, I know this isn’t the greatest time in the world for you,” I said as I looked around the crowded diner, “but when you get a break, can we talk?”

“Are you kidding? I always have time for the two of you. What’s up, ladies?” she asked, shaking her ponytail a little as she moved her head toward us. “Is something wrong?” Trish must have noticed Grace’s expression, because she quickly added, “Grace, I didn’t mean to be so flip. I’m sorry about Peter. In a way, I feel sort of responsible for what happened to him.”

“We know you didn’t kill him, Trish, so you have nothing to apologize for,” Grace said. “From what I’ve heard, you did what you had to when you threw him out, and if he was as drunk at your business as he was when he came to my place, you did the right thing. I can’t imagine anyone blaming you for what happened to Peter.”

Trish nodded. “That’s a relief. I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Honestly, if anyone here is to blame, it’s me. I threw him out after you did, and I slapped his face in the process and did my best to humiliate him,” Grace said.

“You can’t blame yourself for any of that,” I told her. It was the edge of the breakdown I’d been dreading. The odd thing was, though, she was kind of steely when she said it, and that worried me even more.

“Who do I blame then? It’s not Trish’s fault, and it’s surely not yours,” Grace said softly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t let me off the hook so easily. I saw a problem, and I ignored it,” Trish admitted. “I could have called him a cab, I might have had one of my regular guys take him home, or I could have even let him sleep it off in back. I didn’t do any of those things. I threw him out, and the next thing you know, someone killed him. If I’d stepped in and done something, he never would have made it to your place, and he wouldn’t have trashed Suzanne’s building, either.”

Grace reached out and hugged Trish. “So then we both share some of the guilt.”

Trish nodded as she pulled away. “I guess so. There’s certainly enough of it to go around.”

I moved toward them and said, “Ladies, let’s not forget one important fact. None of us hit Peter in the back of the head. His killer did that, and that’s who’s responsible for his death, not any of us.”

Grace nodded. “You’re right. That
is
what’s important. Trish, we’re going to solve this, and then Suzanne and I are going to wallow and try to drown our grief in ice cream and donuts.”

“Count me in,” Trish said. “I can mourn with the best of them.” She hesitated, and then said flatly, “That’s not why you’re here, though, is it?”

“We need your help, but it’s pretty clear we came at a bad time.”

“It’s always a bad time, if you let it be,” Trish said. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” Trish disappeared into the kitchen just as local blacksmith James Settle approached the register to pay his bill. Without giving it another thought, I stepped behind the register, took the bill, rang up the sale, and then gave James his change.

“I didn’t know you were moonlighting here, Suzanne,” he said.

“I try not to make a habit of it, but you never know where I might pop up next,” I answered with a grin. The two of us had gotten off to a rough start when he’d tried to pull up the old train rails that ran through the park and near my converted depot, but we’d worked things out, and now I counted him as one of my newest friends.

James just laughed, and after he was gone, Trish came back to the register with Hilda in tow. “She’s agreed to handle the front while Gladys cooks.”

“I think ‘agreed’ might be a tad too strong a word,” Hilda protested. “You know I hate running the cash register.”

“It’s not that bad, and you know it. If Suzanne can do it, surely you can handle it yourself,” Trish said.

“You saw that?” I asked.

“You’d be amazed by what I can see from the kitchen,” Trish admitted.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I stepped over a line.”

“Are you kidding? If you do need to moonlight, you’ve always got a place to work here with me.”

I tried to hide the blush I felt coming on. “So, you heard us, too?”

She laughed. “The mighty Trish hears all and sees all. Listen, I bought us about five minutes before Hilda starts to have a breakdown. Let’s step outside, and you can tell me what I can do to make your lives easier.”

“No one’s ever offered to do that before,” I said with a smile. “What all does that offer cover, exactly?”

“More than you know, less than you can imagine,” Trish said. She spied one of the picnic tables she kept in front of the Boxcar for folks who had to wait in line to get in, and she led us to it. “I’ve been on my feet all day, so this is a nice break for me.”

“Again, we’re sorry about interrupting you at work,” Grace said.

Trish took her hands in hers and said, “Grace, I’m a huge fan of yours, but if you apologize to me one more time today, I’m going to snap. Understand?”

Grace managed a slight smile. “Got it.”

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. Now, I know you’re both here to ask me about Peter’s murder, but I’m afraid I can’t help you with any details. I didn’t see or hear a thing after I threw him out, and that’s the truth.”

“We figured as much, but we have a few more questions,” I said.

Trish grinned, and I asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Chief Martin gave up a lot easier than you two. He asked me a few general things, and then he moved on. I got the distinct impression that his leads were taking him in another direction. How about yours?”

“We’re doing the best we can, with our limited resources,” I admitted. “Some folks just won’t talk to us without a badge behind the questions, and not having George or Jake around doesn’t make things any easier, either.”

After a moment’s pause, she said, “You know, I could always close the diner for a few days and help you do some digging if you’re interested.”

I knew that Trish depended on her steady income from the diner nearly as much as I did from my donut shop, so it wasn’t an offer she made lightly.

“We appreciate that,” I said, “but what we really need at the moment is information.”

“Then ask away. I’m a regular dictionary of facts.”

“Who was eating at the diner when you threw Peter out?” Grace asked gently.

“I didn’t physically remove him; you know that, don’t you? He was drunk, so it wasn’t like I had to manhandle him or anything. I showed him the door, told him to scoot until he sobered up, and he did as he was told. That was the total sum of our interaction, I swear it.”

“What we want to know is,” I asked, “who else was here when you did it? Did anyone leave right after it happened?”

“And did anyone take off just before you tossed him out?” Grace asked, adding her own follow-up.

Trish took in all of our questions, and then said, “You’re trying to see who might have done it, and whether they were here or not when I booted him. It’s smart.”