Powdered Peril (4 page)

“I’m sorry, but it is.”

I couldn’t take it another second. Why was he dragging this out? Was it Max? My ex-husband had done some idiotic things in his life, but trashing my building wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. At least not if he was sober. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it?”

“Someone killed Peter Morgan between ten o’clock last night and five this morning,” he said, and I felt my knees weaken, not because of my attachment to Grace’s ex-boyfriend, but because I knew that if there was foul play involved, the chief would have to consider Grace first. The relief that it wasn’t Max was tempered by the fact that it was still someone I knew, and that was hard to take, no matter how I felt about him. The chief went on to explain, “It looks like they hit him from behind with an old wooden post they found behind the Boxcar.”

“Are you telling me that he was killed right over there?” I asked, looking out the front door toward Trish’s diner. Sure enough, I could see that there was police tape strung up in the trees behind the Boxcar. The activity had been impossible to see from the kitchen, but once I knew what was going on, I couldn’t miss it. It looked bad for my best friend, and I knew it. She’d been angry with Peter last night, and there was no telling what some folks thought she might be capable of if their relationship was torn apart.

I had to nip this in the bud right now.

“Grace didn’t do it,” I said defensively.

“Hang on a second. No one said that she did,” the chief replied, holding his hands up as though he were trying to keep me at bay.

“That’s good to know,” I answered, mollified, if only for a moment.

“Don’t read too much into that,” Chief Martin said sternly. “She’s a suspect, there’s no way around that, but I’m not ready to say she’s guilty until I have more information.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I asked. “Are you expecting me to help you hang my best friend for something she didn’t do?” I was trying to keep my voice calm, but it was getting harder and harder to do.

“Nobody’s getting hanged around here, at least not just yet,” he answered, his voice indicating that his patience clearly was wearing thin.

“Then why are you here, Chief?”

“I thought you might want to come with me when I tell her the news,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t do it under ordinary circumstances, but I know how close you two are, and I’m sure she could use a friend when I tell her what happened. There’s one condition, though.”

“What’s that?” I asked, immediately suspicious of the string Chief Martin was attaching to his offer. I knew that it had been too good to be true.

“You have to stay in the squad car while I tell her. After that, you can console her all you want to, but I need the first few minutes alone with her.”

That was a reasonable request, but I wasn’t certain that I could honor it. “How about if I stand on the porch with you, but I promise not to say anything?”

“Suzanne, this isn’t a swap meet, and we’re not bargaining. I need to speak with her alone, and if you’re with me when I ring her doorbell, it’s not going to help any of us, including Grace. So, what’s it going to be? Will you stay in the car and wait until I’m finished with her, or do I go by myself?” He hesitated, and then added, “Don’t think you can turn me down and then go to Grace’s anyway. I’ll have a man stop you before you get within a hundred yards of her place if I have to. This is just a courtesy.”

I realized that was true enough. I liked a good fight as much as the next gal, but there really wasn’t any reason for me to push him on this.

“You’ve got a deal. Give me a minute. I have to lock up the shop.”

“What about Nan?” Chief Martin asked. “Can’t she run things?”

“It’s her first day,” I answered as Nan herself came out of the kitchen.

“Did I hear someone mention my name?” She looked at the chief, and then said, “Hello, Phillip. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Nan. Suzanne, make up your mind. This won’t wait. What’s it going to be?”

I shrugged. How bad could it be? “Nan, I know this must sound crazy to you, but I need to go with the chief to help out a friend of mine. I’m perfectly happy to shut the donut shop for an hour if you’d prefer, and you can take a break. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you for your time.”

“Is there any reason I can’t run it for you in your absence?” she asked as she glanced at my cash register. “This is an 8200 model. I’ve run one before.”

“It’s not fair for me to ask you to do that,” I said.

Nan smiled broadly. “You’re not asking; I’m volunteering. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

She’d been with me just a few hours, and now my new assistant was asking me to entrust my livelihood with her, all that I owned. Could I trust her? If not now, when, though? After three days? A week? A month? There was no time like the present to see if I could leave the shop in her hands. “If you’re sure, that would be great. I really appreciate it.”

“Go on. I can always call you if I get in over my head, but I don’t think I will.”

“Let’s go,” I said to Chief Martin, afraid that if I lingered too long, I’d change my mind. On the surface it didn’t make any sense at all, but Grace was involved, so logic went out the window. I didn’t have many good and true friends, though I had scads of acquaintances in our small town, and when one of them was in trouble, there was no way I wouldn’t be there for them.

We got to the squad car, and I automatically headed for the backseat.

“You can ride up front with me, if you don’t think it might ruin your reputation,” Chief Martin said as he held the door open for me. It was something I loved about living in the South. No matter how we might have felt about each other, we still respected the unwritten rules that drove us all, and courtesy was one of them.

Driving to Grace’s, I asked, “I’m curious about something. How can you be certain Peter was the one who painted my shop?” Before he could answer, I immediately did it myself. “Strike that. He had yellow paint on the soles of his shoes, and probably on his hands and clothes as well.”

The chief glanced over at me for a second as he continued driving. “Suzanne, you told Grant that you didn’t see anyone do it. How could you know all of that? You didn’t find the body yourself and not tell anyone about it, did you?”

“Of course not,” I said, though I couldn’t fault the chief for jumping to a wild conclusion like that. I had meddled in police business a few times over the years, but I’d never done anything so overtly wrong before. At least not in my mind, anyway. “I saw the footprints in the paint, and from the way the paint was sloshed all over the front of the building, it would have taken a miracle not to get any on his hands or on his clothes. It just makes sense.”

“Well, you couldn’t have described him better if you’d seen the man himself,” the chief said. “You’re pretty quick, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’ve been reading too many of my mother’s mystery novels,” I admitted. I wasn’t all that excited to have the chief remembering the times in the past when I’d played detective myself. “You’re going to take it easy on Grace, aren’t you? Hearing about Peter’s murder is going to be a real shock to her.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he said as he pulled into her driveway, “but I have to talk to her first, and I don’t have time to be gentle. That’s why you’re here.”

“To help pick up the pieces after you’re through,” I said, without an ounce of anger in my words.

“I wouldn’t put it like that exactly, but the gist of it is true.”

“I appreciate you thinking of me,” I said as he got out of the car.

He just nodded, and I had to fight the urge to leave the car as well and march right up those steps with him. A promise was a promise, though, even if I’d made it to our chief of police.

I saw Grace answer the door after a few minutes of ringing and knocking, and I rolled down the window so I could eavesdrop on their conversation. I’d promised to stay in the car, but I hadn’t said a word about not listening in.

Luckily, I could hear them just fine from my vantage point.

“What is it, Chief?” Grace asked as she pulled her robe around her. Her hair was a bit of a mess, and she hadn’t put any makeup on yet, but I still marveled at how pretty my friend was. It might have caused some jealousy and competition in some women, but I’d always been proud to have a friend like her. Going past the surface was what counted, and Grace was every bit as pretty on the inside.

“When was the last time you saw Peter Morgan?” he asked.

“Last night,” Grace admitted. “Why? Did he say something to you about me?”

I knew right then that I should have called Grace and warned her that the chief was coming. Was that the real reason he’d brought me with him? If I was in the car with him, I couldn’t call Grace without him knowing it. Then why had he told me in the first place? Maybe he’d seen me in the front of the donut shop when he’d been at the crime scene, so he was making a preemptive strike by including me in this interrogation. Or maybe he was doing exactly what he’d said, making sure Grace had a shoulder to cry on after she found out about Peter Morgan. I wasn’t sure exactly what to believe, but I decided that until I heard otherwise, I was going to do my best to give him the benefit of the doubt, a real change of pace for me when it came to dealing with my mother’s boyfriend.

“I need to ask a few questions before I answer any of yours. What time would that be?” the chief asked.

Grace started to get even more suspicious. “Chief, Peter didn’t call you after he left here last night, did he? What a little weasel. He shows up on my front porch drunk, we have an argument, and the next morning, the chief of police shows up on my doorstep before seven. What a guy. I’m glad I slapped him last night, and I’m even happier that I didn’t take him back when he begged me to. I’m better off without him.”

“Did anyone see him leave here? And you never told me what time he left.” The chief was persistent, I had to give him that.

“No one saw him here, at least not that I’m aware of. I thought I’d made it clear that I was finished with him earlier when I found out that he’d been cheating on me, but he just wouldn’t leave it be. I admit that I was broken up about it at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was better off alone than having him in my life. He finally realized that I was dead serious somewhere around eleven,” Grace said. “He kept mumbling something about Trish throwing him out of the Boxcar, and that he had to come here to make things right with me. Fat chance. Chief, that man’s a liar, and if he told you anything different, you shouldn’t be all that surprised.” Grace glanced over at the squad car, but from where it was parked, I doubted she could tell that I was there, given the shade of the tree and the way the car was angled. “Is that him? Come on out, you coward,” she shouted, and I ducked down a little in my seat.

“Go on, bring him over here,” she said as she turned to the chief. “I have the right to face my accuser. Let’s hear what the loser has to say.”

“That’s not Peter,” the police chief admitted. “It’s Suzanne.”

“Suzanne?” Grace asked, clearly surprised by the information. “Why is she in your car? You didn’t arrest her, did you? Whatever you think she might have done, she didn’t do it.”

I felt a rush of pride as my friend rose to defend me, not even knowing why I was there.

“Actually, I brought her here for you,” the chief admitted.

Grace looked more confused than ever. “Why would you do that? As much as I’m happy to see her, I don’t really need her for anything at this unholy hour.”

I saw the chief tense a little, and I knew that he was about to tell her the news. Even as I was opening my door, I heard him say, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Peter Morgan was murdered last night near the Boxcar Grill.”

The look of shock on her face broke my heart. “He’s dead? No. No. I don’t believe you. That can’t be.”

“I know that it’s a shock for you, but it’s true.”

“When did it happen?” I heard her ask as she began to cry. I hurried toward my best friend to offer any comfort that I could.

“Between ten last night and five this morning,” the chief said.

“But I already told you. He left here at eleven, and besides a slap in the face, he was fine, if you don’t count being drunk as something wrong with you.”

The chief shrugged. “I have to ask these questions, Grace, but I’ll do so as quickly as I can. Let me see your hands,” he prompted, and Grace presented them just as I arrived.

I looked down at Grace’s hands.

To my unending relief, there wasn’t a speck of yellow paint on them.

Evidently, that wasn’t what the chief was looking for. At least not just that.

“What happened here?” he asked as he pointed to a scraped area on one of her palms.

Grace looked at me oddly, but all I could do was shrug. She glanced down at her palm and said, “That? It’s nothing. I got a splinter painting an old bench in my backyard yesterday. Why?”

“I’m afraid you need to come with me,” the chief said.

“Why should I do that?” she asked, the concern thick in her voice. “What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Whoever killed Peter Morgan used a wooden post on him,” the chief said gravely. “We’re going to the hospital so we can retrieve that splinter, and then we’re going to go to my office and chat a little more.”

“Suzanne?” she asked. “What’s going on?” She was clearly in a state of shock after hearing the news about her ex-boyfriend.

“Can’t she at least get dressed first?” I asked.

“Not until we get that splinter. I’m sorry. You’ll need to make your own way back to the donut shop.”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital with some clothes,” I volunteered as I ignored the police chief. “Don’t worry, Grace, it’s going to be okay.”

She nodded slightly, but I could see in her eyes that she didn’t entirely believe me.

If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t sure that I believed it, either.

THICK AND RICH OLD-FASHIONED BAKED DONUTS

As we’ve started eating healthier, we’ve changed some of our old-fashioned fried donut recipes to baked ones. Having a portable donut maker that produces minirounds has been perfect, but these donuts are nearly as good baked in muffin tins in a conventional oven. This is a delightful take on an old favorite, creating a donut that is dense and rich with subtle overtones.