Sinister Sprinkles Page 3

“Then he should have written a letter, or at least phoned before he left town.” Grace shook her head, then added, “It’s probably all for the best.”

  “You know what? He’s been gone less than a week, and I already miss seeing him come into the donut shop. He was there every day, did you realize that?”

  “That certainly sets him apart from Jake, doesn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “I care for him, honestly, I do, but sometimes I think he should find a nice lady truck driver. He’d have a better chance of seeing her than he has me.”

  Grace bit into a cookie, then said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be here before Christmas.”

  “That’s the plan right now, unless business calls him away,” I said as I handed her a mug of coffee and then sat beside her. “Strike that. His business is probably going to bring him here by nightfall. I hate the reason he has to come to town, but at least I’ll be able to see him again.”

  Grace put her mug down on the coffee table. “Suzanne, is there something you’re not telling me? Did something happen today at your booth?”

  I couldn’t tell if she was teasing or not, then I realized that the entire time we’d been talking, she hadn’t brought the murder up, something I should have realized was greatly out of character for her. “You haven’t heard, have you? There was a murder at the Christmas Carnival today.”

  She didn’t believe me at first—it was clear in her expression—but when I didn’t back down, she finally accepted it. “What happened?”

  “Darlene Higgins was killed under the town clock,” I said. “The thing is, she was dressed in Muriel Stevens’s jacket, and she was wearing a black-and-gray-haired wig when she was murdered, so it didn’t even look like her.”

  After I finished bringing her up to date on what I knew, Grace put a hand on mine and asked gently, “Suzanne, are you all right?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be?” I asked.

  “Come on, I’m your best friend, remember? I know how you feel about Darlene Higgins.”

  “That all happened a long time ago,” I said. “I’ve decided to put it behind me.”

  Grace arched one eyebrow. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? Remember who you’re talking to.”

  I let out a deep breath, and hadn’t even realized that I’d been holding it in. “Maybe. I don’t know. Sure, I’ve been angry with her for a long time. After all, she broke up my marriage.” I stared at the flames in the fireplace for a few seconds longer, then added, “But it was Max’s fault, too, and I’ve managed to just about forgive him, even if I doubt I’ll ever be able to forget what happened between them.” In spite of my effort to wipe the image out of my mind of finding them together, it still came back unbidden at the slightest provocation.

  Grace frowned as she stared into the flames. “Has the chief asked you for an alibi yet?”

  That thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “No, why would he?”

  “Come on, Suzanne. Think about it. You had a motive to want her dead, and you were at the carnival selling donuts. That just leaves the means. How did she die?”

  It was unsettling to hear Grace’s litany of reasons I might be guilty, but she had a point, one I’d been unwilling or unable to face. “You know what? I don’t have a clue. I just realized that the chief didn’t say how she was murdered, just that she was dead. Hang on a second, this won’t take long.”

  I reached for the phone and dialed George’s number.

  When he picked up, I said, “Hey, it’s me.”

  “Hello, Suzanne. What can I do for you?”

  “I know things might be a little strained right now between you and the police force, but do you think you could find out exactly how Darlene was murdered?”

  There was a pause, and then he said, “I honestly don’t know, but I can try.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it. Don’t do it if it’s going to get you in trouble.”

  “Now, what fun would that be? If I lived by that rule, I’d never get to do anything.”

  After I hung up, Grace asked, “Did you just call George?”

  “Yes, I thought he might be able to find out what’s really going on. I can’t help wondering what Darlene was doing going around town dressed up like Muriel.”

  “I thought you said she was getting ready for her audition.”

  I shrugged. “That’s just one theory, but no one really knows, do they? Is it possible that whoever killed Darlene was really going after Muriel?”

  “It’s possible, from the way you described her wig and that coat. Somebody should warn Muriel that she might be in trouble.”

  As Grace reached for the phone, I stopped her. “There’s no need to call her. The chief was heading for Muriel’s house when he left Donut Hearts. I’m sure she knows what’s going on by now.”

  “Where does that leave us, then?”

  I looked at her for a second for some kind of clue what she was talking about. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “We’re going to investigate this ourselves, aren’t we?” Grace looked surprised I hadn’t suggested it myself.

  “No, ma’am. I’m staying out of this case, and you should, too. Let the chief find the killer this time. Darlene’s death doesn’t involve me.”

  Grace stood and began to pace as she ranted, “You aren’t serious, are you? Let’s list the reasons you need to get involved. First, the victim is the woman who broke up your marriage. Next in line, we have your ex-husband, a man you are still on good terms with, though why I can’t imagine, as one of the lead suspects. Do you honestly need anything more than that? Suzanne, you’re involved with this up to your eyeballs.”

  I was saved from answering when the front door opened. My mother, a petite woman who barely broke five feet in height, came into the house brushing the snow from her jacket. “It’s coming down fiercely now,” she said with a warm glow. I’d inherited her love of snow, and was glad it was something we shared. When Momma noticed Grace, she said, “Why, hello there. I didn’t know you were here. Where’s that beautiful car of yours?”

  “Parked in my driveway where my boss ordered me to put it. I’m on a paid holiday until the snow stops and they can plow the streets.”

  “It may be longer than you’ve planned for, then. I just heard that our two snowplows are on their way to Charlotte. There was a problem there with some of their equipment, and our mayor offered them ours as a goodwill gesture.”

  “That’s all well and good,” I said. “But what are we supposed to do here in the meantime?”

  “We endure,” my mother said as she put the bags she’d been carried down on the table. “Fortunately, I was able to get provisions before the grocery store shelves were completely emptied. You’d think those people had never seen a snowstorm before.” She looked at Grace, then added, “Dear, you’re welcome to join us.”

  “I’d better not,” Grace said as she started to get up.

  My mother looked impatient about being thwarted. “Nonsense. We’re having lemon chicken, and I know that’s your favorite.”

  Grace sat down again. “Okay, you convinced me.”

  I touched her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

  “Momma had to twist your arm so hard, I was afraid she might have broken it.”

  Grace grinned at me. “Mock me all you want, but I wouldn’t dream of insulting your mother by turning down her most generous offer.”

  My mother laughed. “I appreciate that. I always enjoy it when you two girls get together over here.”

  Grace asked, “Mrs. Hart, is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Thank you, dear, but I’ve got time to do everything that needs to be done, and it’s something I really enjoy doing. You two sit there and enjoy the fire. I’m happiest when I’m busy.”

  As Momma disappeared into the kitchen, I said to Grace, “Thanks for not saying anything about the murder.”

  “She knows, doesn’t she
?”

  I nodded. “She doesn’t want it to ruin the day, though, and I don’t blame her. Momma lives for the days when it snows, and I want her to be able to enjoy this.”

  Grace nodded. “I don’t want to upset her either, believe me. Did you honestly think I’m going to risk losing a dinner invitation from your mother? Especially when I can’t drive to the nearest restaurant to eat?”

  “You wouldn’t have to drive,” I said. “I’m sure The Boxcar is still open. Knowing Trish, she’s making a killing right now feeding the hungry folks of April Springs.”

  “Thanks, but I’d have to wade through the snow to get there, and these boots are designed more for style than function.” She showed off her ankle-high leather boots, and I could see her point. Grace wasn’t exactly dressed for the snow we were getting. I felt bad for anyone who didn’t have a safe and warm place to sleep tonight.

  “You’re going to be here anyway. Why don’t you stay over tonight?” I suggested.

  Grace looked outside at the still-falling snow. “Ordinarily I’d walk home after we eat, but I think I’ll take you up on your offer, if you’re sure. Since we have some time to kill and your mother clearly doesn’t want us anywhere near her kitchen, how about a few games of Scrabble before we eat?”

  “You’re on. Loser does dishes, okay?”

  “Get out your rubber gloves then, because girl, you’re going down,” Grace said.

  I got our Scrabble game and set it up by the living room window where we could watch the snow in one direction, and the fireplace in the other. With the decorated Christmas tree in one corner of the room, it made quite a lovely sight. It was too bad that as we played, I couldn’t manage to completely get rid of the sight of Darlene’s body lying there on the sidewalk in front of the clock. Who had killed her, and why? Was the assault meant for her, or Muriel? I was afraid that before too long, I was going to end up investigating the matter myself, regardless of my original intent to stay out of it.

  Whether I liked it or not, it appeared that Darlene’s death had become a part of my life.

  * * *

  Three hours and several games later, Momma finally said, “Come on, ladies. Dinner is served.”

  “One second,” I said as I played my last letter, making a paltry ME out of one of the few open squares with word possibilities. “I’m out.”

  “And so am I,” Grace said as she played three letters, making TREE. “It’s in honor of Christmas,” she added.

  As I totaled the score, Momma said, “If you two aren’t interested in eating, I’ll be glad to start without you.”

  Grace stood and said, “We can figure out who won later. Let’s go.”

  I brought the sheet into the dining room with me, along with a pencil. I wasn’t about to let that get out of my sight. We were tied at a game apiece, and the outcome of this one would determine who washed dishes, and who sat by the fire while the other one worked.

  When I walked into the dining room, I saw that Momma had outdone herself. The good china was laid out on the table, and it positively overflowed with goodies. Besides the lemon chicken, there was her signature garlic mashed potatoes, her green beans with pearl onions, and some of her homemade cranberry sauce.

  “This is almost too pretty to eat,” Grace said as she took it all in.

  “Take a picture if you’d like to reminisce about it later, but I’m digging in,” I said.

  My mother shook her head. “Grace, I’d hoped your good manners would rub off on my daughter, but I’m afraid it’s never going to happen. I should probably just give up that particular dream.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” I said with a smile as I reached for the cranberries. “It puts a lot less pressure on me.”

  “You know the rules. First we say grace; then we eat,” my mother said.

  I looked at my friend and said, “Hi, Grace. Now, could you pass the mashed potatoes?”

  “Suzanne,” my mother said.

  “Sorry.” She had worked hard putting on such a fine feast, and I knew that I was being a little too glib about it, but it was so nice having Grace with us.

  As my mother gave the blessing, I found myself focusing on her prayer. She was right, we were lucky, and sometimes I took it for granted. I needed to hear her sobering words just as much as she needed to say them.

  After she finished, Grace said, “I don’t know which is lovelier, your presentation, or your sentiment.”

  “Thank you, my dear,” my mother said, obviously pleased with the praise.

  “Me, too,” was all I could manage, though I hoped my mother realized her words had struck a chord with me as well.

  “Let’s eat, shall we?” she said brightly, so we did. Dinner was full of pleasant conversation, and we all avoided the one topic that was surely on everyone’s mind. If they were willing to ignore it, then I was, too.

  After dinner, Momma asked, “Now, who has room for dessert?”

  “I couldn’t eat another bite,” I said.

  “I’m stuffed, too,” Grace echoed.

  “We’ve got homemade apple pie with a crumb crust topping,” Momma said.

  “Maybe I’ll have just a sliver,” I said.

  Grace nodded. “I think I have room for that much myself.”

  Momma grinned. “Tell you what. Why don’t I do the dishes and you two go enjoy the fire. After I’m finished cleaning up, we’ll have dessert.”

  I said, “No, ma’am. We’re cleaning up. Or at least one of us is. We played Scrabble for the privilege, and we won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Positive,” Grace said.

  “If you’re certain,” she said as she started off toward the living room. I knew her favorite part of making meals was the process and the end result, not the cleaning afterwards.

  “I thought you’d put up more of a fight than that,” I said, smiling.

  “Then you thought wrong. Thank you both. Now if you two will excuse me, I believe I’ll go enjoy that fire.”

  After she went into the other room, Grace asked me, “So, who lost? I know you brought the score sheet in with you.”

  “Let me total it up,” I said as I tallied the figures. I added them twice, then laughed out loud.

  “What’s so funny? Did I lose?”

  “Look,” I said as I handed her the sheet. We’d ended in a dead tie on the last game, 234 to 234.

  Grace smiled. “It looks like we’re both cleaning up.”

  “It surely does. Let’s knock these dishes out so we can have some pie.”

  She looked at me in disbelief. “Suzanne, are you honestly telling me that you’re still hungry? I was just kidding before.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not saying I could eat a sandwich, but I probably have room for a little bit of pie after we finish.”

  Grace laughed. “Then let’s get to work. I’d hate to be the one responsible for making you starve to death.”

  The cleanup was a breeze having Grace work with me, and we were just about to cut the pie when my cell phone rang with its signature laugh.

  I thought about ignoring it, and when I didn’t answer immediately, Grace said, “You’d better get it. It might be important.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said. “I don’t want to spoil this evening’s light mood.”

  “It’s fine. Besides, it’ll drive us both crazy if you don’t.”

  I shrugged, then pulled my cell phone out and said hello. It was George. “I wasn’t expecting you to find anything out tonight.”

  He said, “I thought you should hear it as soon as possible.”

  “Well, you’ve got my attention. How did Darlene die?”

  “She was stabbed straight through the coat and into the heart.”

  I felt a shiver go through me. “That sounds horrible,” I said. “What a terrible way to die.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen worse,” George said.

  “I’m sure you have,
but I don’t want to hear about any of your old cases. Thanks for finding out for me.”

  “Hang on a second,” he said as Grace kept pulling out my arm, no doubt wanting to know how Darlene had died. “I’m not finished.”

  “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  George sighed. “Don’t you want to know what the murder weapon was? Come on, Suzanne, it’s the next logical question, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so,” I said. “I just assumed it was a knife. Wait just a sec,” I added as I turned to Grace. “Somebody stabbed Darlene in the heart.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  I said to George, “Sorry about that. Now, what were you saying?”

  “I was talking about the murder weapon. Have you seen those candy canes around City Hall?”

  “The ones hanging in the windows? Yes, I saw them. Trish was in charge of decorating, since she was running the carnival.”

  “No, not those. I’m talking about the ones stuck in the ground out front where the flower beds are during summer.”

  “Yes, I saw those, too. Kind of cute, aren’t they?”

  “I used to think so,” George said, “until I heard that one of them was used to stab Darlene in the heart. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Tell me you’re joking,” I said, having a hard time believing him. Who would take an ornamental display and turn it into a murder weapon?

  “I don’t joke about murder,” he said. “It was obviously a crime of opportunity. Anyone could have taken one of those canes and used it to kill Darlene. As cold as it’s been, the entire town’s wearing gloves, so it’s no surprise that there weren’t any fingerprints on it.”

  “I didn’t think those candy canes were sharp enough,” I said.

  “They’ve got eight-inch steel skewers on the ends so you can drive them into the ground. They’re tough enough to penetrate frozen turf, so I can’t imagine one having much trouble with Darlene.”

  “That hardly eliminates any suspects, does it?”

  “Anybody at the carnival today had access to those candy canes. Anyway, I just thought you’d want to know. It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, isn’t it? Do you need anything?”

  “No, we’re settled in pretty snugly here at the house. Grace is staying with us and we’re making it a party.”