Floured Felonies (The Donut Mysteries Book 27) Page 7

  Grace hustled me out of the building, and I was half afraid the branch manager might follow us out. What would he think about our supposed fortune if he saw us driving away in Jake’s old beat-up pickup truck? Fortunately, Gwen called out to him that he had a phone call, and he left us before he made it out the door.

  “Quick, let’s go,” I said, urging Grace to move before the branch manager could find out what we were really driving away in.

  “What’s the rush?” she asked, even though she did as I’d requested. “You’re acting as though we’re robbing the place.”

  As I started the engine, praying that it didn’t choose this moment to die, I asked, “Let me ask you something. Would Francisca be caught dead in this truck?”

  “She most certainly would not,” Grace said haughtily, and then she grinned. “I can’t believe you almost called me by my real name in Trinket’s office.”

  “Great day, it’s hard not to,” I said, using my own idiom again. Who knew? Maybe it would catch on, but I doubted it.

  “What did you get from the assistant?” Grace asked me. “That was pretty slick getting suddenly sick and excusing yourself, by the way.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said. “Gwen claimed that Greg and Calvin were fighting about some loans. Evidently Greg wanted something changed, but Calvin refused. I wonder if there was something fishy about them.”

  “I don’t know. Were you surprised when Benny told us that Greg was dating Gwen?”

  “Why, because she was a good twenty-five years younger than he was?” I asked. “Nothing surprises me about dating these days. I didn’t quite buy Benny’s calm acceptance about being dumped though, did you?”

  “He couldn’t have taken it as casually as he pretended to, that’s for sure,” she said.

  “I still can’t believe Lori lied to us about that,” I answered as I found myself heading to Napoli’s. Talking about it had made me want it.

  “Could she have lied to us out of pride? It had to be humiliating for her to be dumped for someone so much younger,” Grace said. “In fact, the more I think about it, the more I find that I don’t blame her for lying to us.” She looked around and asked, “Hey, are we going to eat at Napoli’s?”

  “I thought I might get something to take home, if you don’t mind,” I said.

  “Forget that,” Grace said with a grin. “It’s a lot better when it’s hot and fresh, and you know it. I’ve been dreaming about Angelica’s lasagna for weeks.”

  “I just figured you might have plans with Stephen tonight, especially since we had our slumber party last night.”

  “Suzanne, you know how he is when he’s working on a case. I won’t see him much until this is all over, so why shouldn’t we enjoy a nice Italian meal out together?”

  “If you’re sure, there’s no reason that I can think of,” I answered with a grin.

  Chapter 10

  “Ladies, what a surprise,” Angelica DeAngelis, the owner of Napoli’s, greeted us as we walked in. She was a real beauty, ten years older than we were but still outshining nearly every woman in her presence. Angelica had four daughters, all of them beautiful in their own right, but none of them quite as lovely as their mother. The restaurant was decorated for the season, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the DeAngelis clan were believers in going over the top when it came to outfitting the place for the holidays.

  “You’re not cooking this evening?” I asked Angelica. It was rare to find the woman out of her kitchen at all.

  “Tonight, my girls insist that they can handle things without me,” she said loudly enough for her youngest, Sophia, to hear. In a softer voice, she told us with a smile, “In fact, they are doing beautifully. I’m so proud of my girls. Come, you may have my best table.”

  “I thought every table here was great,” I told her with a grin as we followed her.

  “Yes, of course,” Angelica said, and then, in a quiet voice, she added, “Some are better than others, though.” She snapped her fingers toward Sophia and pointed to us.

  The youngest of the clan came over and smiled. “Hey, girls. What’s up?”

  “Sophia, is that any way to greet our customers?”

  The young waitress stuck her tongue out at her mother, and then she grinned. “Suzanne and Grace are a lot more than that, and you know it. Don’t look now, but there are customers waiting to be seated.”

  Angelica noticed that she’d been remiss in her duties and scurried off without another word.

  “I love when that happens,” she said with a grin. “Now, what can I get you ladies?”

  I didn’t even need to look at the menu. “I’ll have the lasagna. Ever since Grace mentioned it, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

  “Make it two,” Grace said with a smile.

  “Would you both like your regular salads as well?”

  “You’d better believe it,” I said, “and bread, too. Lots of bread.”

  Sophia laughed. “No worries on that count. I know better than to come back to this table without fresh bread.”

  Once she was gone, Grace asked me, “What do you say, Suzanne? Should we make this a murder-free meal? A break from it might be nice.”

  “We can do whatever you’d like,” I said.

  “Why don’t we, then?” Grace asked, and then she frowned for a moment. “That being said, there’s something that’s really bothering me. I realize that Lori was humiliated that Greg was dating a woman so much younger than she was, but what I don’t get is why she was trying to protect her even after her husband was dead. Why on earth wouldn’t she mention it to us? I’m starting to realize that mortification isn’t enough of a reason to keep quiet about it.”

  “I can think of one reason,” I said quietly.

  “Why is that?”

  “Knowing about Gwen gives Lori another motive for murder,” I said.

  “Wow, as if she needed any more than she already had.”

  “Are you talking about Greg Whitmore?” Sophia asked me as she brought us a basket spilling over with fresh bread. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

  “Particularly since we’re the ones who found the body,” Grace said.

  “I hadn’t heard that part. Someone just said that he’d been shot in the park. He was wearing a snowman costume, is that right?”

  “No, it was a Santa suit,” I corrected her. How did these rumors and distortions get started?

  “That makes more sense. But he was propped up on a bench in the park, right? Was that much at least right?”

  “Yes, that’s the way we found him,” I said, shuddering a little at the memory. “Did you know him well?”

  “Not that well, but he came here some, especially after he started dating Gwen West. I never would have believed that match if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.”

  “Why? Were they really that different? Besides the age thing, I mean.”

  Sophia shrugged. “I’m certainly no expert in love, but I didn’t get it. I know that Gwen’s dad abandoned the family when she was nine, and though she’s gone out with men her own age in the past, it was clear that older men were her favorites.”

  That explained why she’d dumped Benny for Greg, or at least it provided one of the reasons. “How well did they get along in general?” I asked, wanting confirmation of Benny’s interpretation of their story.

  “Like oil and water,” Sophia said. I could tell she wanted to add something to it, but then Angelica spotted her gossiping with us, and before her mother could join us, Sophia scooted away.

  “Ladies, is everything okay here?” Angelica asked us.

  “We’re fine. We were just talking about Greg Whitmore.”

  The elegant older woman frowned, bit her lower lip, and then said, “It was a
sad way to die.”

  “I understand he ate here occasionally,” Grace said as nonchalantly as she could manage.

  “Sophia’s been talking again, I see,” Angelica said sternly.

  “Only because we asked her,” I said, shading the truth a bit. I hated lying to my friend, but I didn’t want to get her daughter in trouble, either.

  “Actually, Sophia is the right one to speak with. She heard something the other night that was rather disturbing.”

  This might be good. “What did she overhear?”

  “I think it’s probably better for her to tell you herself.” Angelica looked at the clock on the wall and suggested, “By the time you’re finished with your meal, she’ll be ready for her break. I’ll have her speak with you then.”

  “We don’t want to interfere with her time off,” I said.

  “This you’ll want to hear,” Angelica answered gravely, but we couldn’t get anything more from her.

  When Sophia brought us our food, she said hurriedly, “Mom told me to tell you what I heard. Meet me outside when you’re finished. I know it’s getting colder out there again, but I won’t be long.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather tell us now, in here where it’s nice and warm?” Grace asked. She had never been a big fan of the cold.

  “Things are really starting to hop in here, so the only way I’ll be able to tell it is to step outside,” Sophia said, and then she shivered a little. I knew it wasn’t from the cold, since the restaurant was well heated, and I had to wonder if it concerned what she’d witnessed.

  I was sure the food was just as good as always, but it was hard for me to focus on it, wondering what Angelica’s youngest daughter had to tell us.

  By the time we finished, Sophia brought us our checks, along with her coat. “Settle up, and I’ll meet you outside.”

  I saw Antonia, one of Angelica’s other daughters, leave the kitchen with an order pad, and she managed a smile in our direction before she got to work waiting tables. The girls prided themselves on being interchangeable, but I knew they each had their own specialties, and Antonia loved to cook.

  As we paid for our meals, Angelica asked, “How was everything?”

  I had my answer ready for her. “Good, but not as good as yours.” I actually meant it, too, though the quality of the food wasn’t necessarily a reflection on her daughters’ expertise in the kitchen.

  “That’s the perfect answer, Suzanne,” she said as she made change. “Where is that Jake of yours? Not that I’m not happy to see you here with her, Grace.”

  “He’s snowed in at a bachelor party in the mountains,” I said with a grin.

  “Are there girls there?” Angelica asked disapprovingly.

  “No, he’s with half a dozen ex-state police investigators. I’m guessing they’re discussing their glory days and the goriest cases they ever had.”

  “That doesn’t sound much like a party to me,” Angelica said with distaste.

  “Exactly. That’s why I came here with Grace.”

  “Well, come back anytime. Now, go, you two. Sophia is waiting for you.”

  “Thanks, Angelica,” I said as I hugged her.

  She beamed as she returned it. “It’s always a pleasure seeing you both, and you know it. You ladies don’t be strangers now, you hear?”

  “No, ma’am. We wouldn’t dream of it,” Grace said happily. Angelica really did make us both feel as though we were two of her own girls, which was the greatest compliment she could pay us, and we were both well aware of it.

  Sophia was outside stamping her feet together and rubbing her hands.

  “Sorry we kept you waiting out in the cold,” I said.

  “When my mother gets to chatting with the two of you, I would expect nothing else. Okay, I don’t have a ton of time, so here goes.”

  And then she proceeded to tell us exactly what she’d witnessed two nights earlier.

  “Greg and Gwen have been coming here off and on for years but never together. At least until recently, that is. Three weeks ago, they started coming here together most evenings for dinner. Some nights they acted as though they were so in love I could barely stand to be around them, you know what I mean?”

  “I do,” Grace said, and I nodded. There were some people who brandished their feelings like sabers, daring anyone to complain about their displays of affection. I took comfort in seeing a hug here or a kiss there, but there was clearly such a thing as too much of what Emma liked to call excessive PDA, public displays of affection.

  “But then there were other nights where I was afraid to give them sharp knives. I’ve never understood those kinds of relationships that are so volatile. Some people think it’s being passionate. I think it’s being a little crazy.”

  “Do you think either one of them was actually unbalanced?” I asked her. I’d just met Gwen, but she’d seemed reasonable enough, and in all the time I’d known Greg, I’d never thought of him as being irrational. Maybe they were fine apart, but when they got together, they brought out the best, or more likely the worst, in each other.

  “Mr. Whitmore was always fine, but Gwen has been overly dramatic for as long as I’ve known her. Anyway, this all leads up to what I saw a few nights ago. We had closed for the night, and I was working the front, cashing out the register, when I heard yelling in the parking lot. We don’t get many drunks here, but my mother is strict about our image, so I knew she wouldn’t want anything going on in our parking lot. As soon as I opened the front door, I could hear Gwen and Greg screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. They were having a fight to end all fights.”

  “What was it about? Could you tell?” I asked her.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear it all the way in April Springs,” Sophia said. “Gwen was shouting at Greg that he had to marry her, he had no choice, and he was answering loudly in no uncertain terms that he’d rather marry a wood-chipper than be tied to her for the rest of his life.”

  “She was pushing him that hard to get married? I didn’t think they’d been dating that long,” Grace asked.

  “They hadn’t, but evidently time was of the essence. I was about to say something when Gwen shouted something that stunned me into silence. ‘The baby is yours, so whether you marry me or not, you’re going to be chained to me for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not.’ Wow, it caught Greg by surprise nearly as much as it did me!”

  “She’s pregnant?” I asked.

  “So she said. Anyway, Greg yelled back at her, “I’d rather die than be chained to you,” and she answered, “Be careful what you wish for,” and then she stormed off on foot.”

  “What did Greg do?”

  “He tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t have it. It was clear that he had calmed down some by then, but Gwen was ramped up like crazy. Anyway, the last I saw of them, he was following her down the street trying to discuss the situation with her, but she was still crazy upset. I didn’t think much of it other than as something to tell my mother and my sisters, but then Greg was murdered, and I’m beginning to realize this is news someone else should hear.”

  “Have you called the police and told them about it?” Grace asked her.

  “No. I didn’t know who to contact.”

  Grace pulled out a pen and a sheet of paper from her purse and jotted a number down before handing it to Sophia. “This is Chief Grant’s number. He’s been here a dozen times before with me, Sophia. You can trust him.”

  “Okay. I’ll call him,” she said as she tucked the note into her apron.

  “Right now,” Grace insisted.

  Sophia frowned. “Can’t it wait half an hour? I have my dinner break then. If I call him now, I’ll leave everyone inside shorthanded, and besides, it’s not like Gwen’s going anywhere between now and t
hen.”

  Grace was about to answer when I butted in. “Half an hour will be fine,” I said.

  Sophia nodded her thanks, but Grace appeared to be a little put off by my advice. Once the youngest DeAngelis girl was back inside, my best friend asked me, “Why did you let her off the hook, Suzanne?”

  “She’s right, Grace. What’s a half hour matter in the scheme of things? Besides, wouldn’t you like to speak with Gwen first and find out what happened that night?”

  “Of course I would, but how is Stephen going to feel about it if we do?”

  “I imagine he’ll be a little miffed at first, but I’m sure that he’ll get over it.” I glanced at my watch and saw that it was nearing six p.m. “If we hurry, we might be able to get to the bank before she leaves for the day. They have late hours today, don’t they?”

  “I think so,” she said. “I’m still not quite sure we should do this.”

  “Stay in the car, then. It will give you complete deniability if Stephen asks you about it later.”

  “No thank you. If you’re talking to her, then so am I.”

  “Then let’s get going before we miss her completely and the point becomes moot.”

  Chapter 11

  “Gwen, can we talk?” I asked the branch manager’s assistant as Grace and I hurried to her on foot once we’d parked Jake’s truck out of the way. The other employees were streaming out of the bank, and I saw Calvin Trinket start toward us as we approached her. In a low voice, I asked, “Do you really want your boss to hear us discuss the fight you had with Greg at Napoli’s the other night?”

  It worked like a charm as Gwen’s face went white for a moment, and I worried that she might bolt on us right then and there, but she quickly regained her composure just as Calvin joined us. “Back again, ladies? I trust you are feeling better, Suzanne?”

  “I’m doing okay,” I said, and then I realized that he hadn’t called me Helen. Someone must have told him the truth after we’d left. “Forgive our ruse earlier, but you never know who you can trust these days. I was afraid that if you knew who we were, you might not be as inclined to help, given the fact that my mother pulled her business from your bank last year.” It was true, too. Momma had used the bank in Union Square as leverage against one in Maple Hollow to get more favorable conditions on her loans and had then promptly walked away, something I’d found out about by accident.