Fudge-Laced Felonies (9 page)

“Settle down, Joe, before you have a heart attack.” After taking a deep breath, Joe fell into his chair.

“Whatever you’re doing—stop.”

“I’m not doing anything, except asking a few questions. That’s not against the law, is it?” I lifted a leg and crossed it over my knee. My foot jiggled a mile a minute.

“Ethan called me. You contaminated my crime scene. Your fingerprints are everywhere.”

“I live there, Joe.”

“Tampering with evidence is against the law. And you’re getting mighty close to doing just that. If you find something, leave it alone.”

The foot moved faster. “So arrest me.” Please, don’t arrest me. Having a criminal in the family would mortify Aunt Eunice and Uncle Roy. “Did you find anything else when you searched?”

“I’m not going to arrest you, and no, I didn’t.” He scrubbed a hand across his buzz cut. “Look. I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll stay out of this. Just promise me that when you find things that pertain to this case, you’ll tell me, okay? Without touching them. Also, I want you to be careful, and don’t involve my girl.”

His girl? My grin reached from one ear to the next. “You’re calling April your girl? That’s sweet.” My feet fell to the floor. “If you’re finished with me, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll let you know when I learn anything of importance.”

“Don’t forget what I told you.”

I left the police station, turned right, and came face- to-face with Duane Parker, wearing of all things, navy coveralls. My mouth dried, and I swallowed against the cottony feeling. “Hello, Duane.”

“Summer.” His smile resembled a grimace. Eyes the color of Mississippi mud glared at me. Okay, the guy never got over my rejecting him as my date for the prom.

“How’s it feel being back?” Missing any coveralls?

“Fine.” Big talker, this one.

“Okay, bye.” I waved good-bye and turned to run smack into a wall named Ethan. “Oh, it’s you.” I peered around him. “Where’s your lunch date?”

“Terri Lee wasn’t my lunch date.” Ethan grasped my elbow and dragged me across the street to a bench beneath an oak tree. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

“Of what?”

Ethan laid an arm across the back of the bench and handed me a paper sack. “You left the diner without ordering. I took the liberty of getting you a BLT.”

“My favorite. Thanks.” I grabbed the bag and peered inside, delighted to see a slice of carrot cake beside the sandwich.

“I know.” Ethan turned toward me. “Summer, I’m sorry I went to Joe about you finding that glove in the birdseed, but I’m worried about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m your Tinkerbell.” Why can’t I be something more to him, Lord?

“It’s not just that.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his curls, sending them into disarray. “Oh, never mind.” He rose. “Enjoy your lunch. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait.” I laid the sandwich on the bench. “Not just what?”

Ethan turned and waved. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

A pigeon landed on the bench and pecked at my sandwich. “Stop it.” I clapped my hands then turned as Ethan disappeared down the street. The bird swooped again, this time stealing a bite of the sandwich. I plopped back onto the bench. That wonderful man noticed I hadn’t eaten. Is it possible he cared more than I thought? But what about Terri Lee?

A quick glance at my watch showed I’d been gone much longer than planned. I grabbed the brown sack with the cake and tossed it in a nearby garbage can. I’d lost my appetite.

Ethan’s words stayed with me the rest of the day. I made candy while existing in a fog, mixing ingredients wrong. At one point, I spilled a pan of corn syrup down the front of the stove. Aunt Eunice lost her patience and tried to send me home. I declined and immersed myself in my work.

I knew I was a great candy maker. Fantastic, in fact. But this diamond case and being preoccupied with Ethan had my mind everywhere but where it needed to be. On my candy.

During the drive home, I mentally ran through my suspect list. Regardless of what Ethan thought, Terri Lee remained at the top. My number one. My unsub. The possible perp. But then again, Ruby knew an awful lot about the dead young man, and I had yet to interrogate Mabel. Then there was Duane.

I pounded a fist on the steering wheel. I’d completely forgotten to ask Ruby to show me her diamond ring. That could’ve led to a whole round of new questions. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be an investigator after all.

Besides, Ethan, Uncle Roy, Aunt Eunice, and Joe would all tell me to stick to candy making.

After I’d finished helping Aunt Eunice clean up after supper and changed into a clean summer dress, I grabbed my digital camera. If I’d been any kind of investigator before now, I already would’ve used it. I also grabbed a pencil and a pad of paper. With these investigative tools in hand, I strolled across the rural highway and hiked the quarter mile to our nearest neighbor, Mrs. Hodge.

I could have driven, I suppose, but I didn’t want to miss a thing. My eyes scanned the ditch on each side of the tree-lined road as I zigzagged across the centerline. Nothing. Bits of garbage. A sickly sweet smell.

Searching the ditch, I found the source of the odor. A dead armadillo that made my stomach hitch. No footprints, diamonds, or cash. Not that I really expected to find anything, but I needed to keep my eyes open and my wits alert. I didn’t need a “dummy” book to tell me that.

Mrs. Hodge’s periwinkle blue–and–white wood-paneled cottage sat about fifty yards from the road, surrounded by a thick clump of trees. Shutters painted a darker shade of blue were shut tight against the summer evening sun. Thick foliage lined the road opposite her home.

My knock on the blue raised-panel door went unanswered for several minutes. As I turned to leave, curtains twitched at the window, and Mrs. Hodge’s face peered out. I gave a cheerful wave.

“Summer, my dear!” Mrs. Hodge spoke before she had the door completely open. She snaked out a hand, grabbed my arm, and pulled me inside. She was amazingly strong for an elderly woman. “I have tea and cookies.”

I pulled myself free and rubbed my arm where she’d squeezed. “Maybe I should look around outside first.”

“If you think so.” Mrs. Hodge led the way through a tiny kitchen and into a lush garden. Plants, bushes, and trees crowded the house and grew up and over trellises, arches, and a cobblestone sidewalk. A wooden fence surrounded the yard.

“I had no idea you had such a beautiful garden, Mrs. Hodge. This is a paradise.” My eyes couldn’t take it all in. I experienced strong feelings of envy over the roses growing there. Every color God and man could come up with, and the aroma welcomed me.

“It’s what I do now that I’m alone. My plants are my friends. There’s little enough for me to do since my son moved out and my husband died.”

“I didn’t know you had a son.”

“We all have a past, don’t we? Thank the good Lord He gives us the opportunity to become new. My son and I are estranged.” The woman’s shoulders heaved as she sighed. “I haven’t seen him in years. Since before I moved to Mountain Shadows.”

“Well, there’s definitely plenty of room for someone to hide. It must be scary at night.” I shuddered, thinking of the shadows that would appear once the sun went down.

“I could never be afraid of my plants.” She grasped my arm again. “Over here. I found some footprints.”

Beneath the kitchen window was a distinct set of prints imbedded in the soft soil of a flower bed.

I couldn’t help but wonder why the diamond thief hadn’t used Mrs. Hodge’s garden instead of mine. The cache could’ve gone undiscovered for years in this jungle. And I wouldn’t have lost what I’d hoped would be a prize-winning rose.

I snapped a picture of the footprints to give to Joe, since I’d neglected to photograph the prints outside my own house. It’d be interesting to see whether they matched. “How often have you felt someone watching you?”

“Three or four times a week. Now I keep my shutters closed. A shame really. I can’t enjoy my friends this way. Are you ready for cookies now?”

I nodded and followed her inside. An unshuttered kitchen window with bright yellow-and-white-checkered curtains hung above the sink. I didn’t need to search around the house to know this would be the only window the peeper looked through.

“My suggestion would be to get a lock for your gate.” I took a seat at her yellow dinette. The vinyl crackled beneath me. “Have you noticed any other suspicious activity around here? Maybe in the woods across the street?”

Mrs. Hodge paused while pouring my tea. “Now that you mention it, yes. A few days ago, I’d been sitting on my front porch, sipping some chamomile tea. I swear I saw a flashlight beam in the woods across the road. I thought I heard loud voices, too. The wind was up that night, so I can’t be sure.”

She finished pouring and took a seat across from me. “There have been cars driving up and down the road at all hours. The headlights keep me awake. Why, do you think?”

I shrugged. “Someone’s been snooping around my place.” My stomach protested my lack of lunch. I grabbed a macaroon from the plate in the center of the table. “I’m wondering whether it could be the same person.” I hadn’t missed the fact she had mentioned voices. That meant more than one. “Could you tell whether the voices you heard were male or female?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t swear in court that I heard them at all. The wind was too strong.”

I visited until dusk, eating cookies and drinking tea, but learned nothing new. My hostess seemed reluctant to let me go, and to ease her mind, I walked the perimeter of her property with a borrowed flashlight. Another beneficial investigative tool I’d need. And I added a sturdy aluminum briefcase to my list of things to buy. I’d need somewhere to store my tools.

True to my suspicions, the garden scared me. A soft breeze rustled the branches overhead. In some places, the shadows were inky where the rising moonlight failed to penetrate the foliage. Once I reached the center of the garden, footsteps padded along the path.

I ducked behind some low-lying juniper bushes and flicked off my flashlight. I wouldn’t classify this part of investigating as my favorite. My hands shook, and my legs trembled. I held my breath for fear of discovery.

Peter Langley, an elderly man I’d known since childhood, tiptoed past my hiding spot. He reminded me of Ichabod Crane. He glanced from side to side and slunk up to Mrs. Hodge’s kitchen window.

I sprang and shone the flashlight at his face. “Mr. Langley.”

“Summer? W–what are you d–doing here?” Mr. Langley’s stutter grew worse as his nervousness elevated.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The back porch light came on, illuminating the garden. “Are you all right, Summer?” Mrs. Hodge stuck her head around the door frame.

“Just fine, Mrs. Hodge. I’ve found your Peeping Tom. Or Peter, rather.” My chest swelled with my first investigative success.

Mr. Langley stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to face Mrs. Hodge. “I’m sorry, Mae.”

“Peter, what are you doing sneaking around my garden at night?” Mrs. Hodge planted fists on her bony hips.

“I—I just wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“But why peek in the window? Why not knock on the door?”

He shrugged and scuffed his feet.

Seems I’d discovered a secret admirer rather than a criminal. Regardless, Peter Langley would be added to my list of suspects. No one who peered into women’s windows could be considered blameless. I lowered my beam from his face.

“All you needed to do was call, Peter.” The object of Mr. Langley’s affection held the door wide. “Come on in.” Forgotten, I left the flashlight on the top step of

the porch. The couple’s voices drifted to me through the door. I smiled before rounding the house. Seemed everyone was finding love but me.

I hadn’t gone far before I regretted leaving the flashlight. A country highway gets mighty dark at night, even with the moon and stars. Bullfrogs serenaded from a nearby pond, and the last of the evening’s lightning bugs flickered off.

Halfway home, I spotted the welcome beams of an approaching vehicle and stepped to the side of the road. The car swerved toward me, and I dove into the ditch. I lifted my head. A dark-colored, four-door sedan disappeared over the hill before I could catch a glimpse of the license plate.

Seven

Rocks and thorns bit into my knees and palms. I planted my hands under me and pushed to my feet. I groaned and collapsed in a puddle beside the road, literally. Standing water from our last rain soaked through my skirt. My ankle throbbed. Great. What a mess I’d gotten myself into this time.

Another set of headlights cut through the night, this time coming from the opposite direction. My pulse beat heavy in my throat, threatening to choke me. The truck passed then backed up and stopped within a few feet of where I sat.

Horror. No, not Ethan! I was in trouble. Again. “Summer!” The slam of his truck door reverberated through the darkness. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I fell in the ditch and twisted my ankle.”

Without another word, I found myself swept into the arms of the man I loved and deposited in his truck as gently as a piece of fine china. Perfect if my face didn’t burn from humiliation.

Once more in the driver’s seat, Ethan’s knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, asked God to guide his words, and turned to me. “What are you doing walking the highway in the dark?” He spoke each word, separate and distinct. His hands remained on the wheel, obviously in a valiant attempt to keep from strangling me.

“Mrs. Hodge asked me to visit.”

“At this time of night?”

“We had tea and cookies. It took awhile.” Soon he’d painfully extract all the information from me. Like a dentist pulling teeth.

“I saw her at the police station earlier today. She thought someone was watching her. I thought it might be the same person who’s been hanging around my house.” My knees burned. Probably scraped, as they often were when I was a child.