Illegally Iced (14 page)

“Actually, a friend of mine was murdered,” I said.

The man shook his head for a few moments in silence, and then looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry to hear that. How close were you?”

“Close enough that I’ll miss him,” I said.

He took that in as well and then nodded. “Well, then, that’s really all that matters, isn’t it? What was the fellow’s name?”

“James Settle,” I said. After a second, I amended my statement to, “I guess James Pinerush would be more accurate.”

“How well did you say you knew him?” he asked with one eyebrow arched. “You seem to be having a little trouble with his name.”

“I knew him as well as he would let me. I never heard what his real last name was until yesterday after someone murdered him. All I know is that he was a fine blacksmith, and he took a lot of pride in his work. I was honored to call him my friend and own some of his work.” I hesitated a moment, and then added, “I still can’t believe some crazy killer took one of his own skewers and stabbed him in the heart with it. I’ve got an older set he made just for me, but to be honest with you, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to use them again.”

“I know it might sound like an odd question, but would you mind if I saw them?”

What an odd request. “Why would you possibly care?”

“You make him sound like an upright kind of guy, and the world’s sorely missing that kind of man. I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy, but I just got a feeling that if I held one in my hands, I might get to know him better myself.”

It was a crazy idea, and on my best day I would have refused him, but it seemed to me that the man had an honest and sincere desire to see some of James’s work. What better way to honor the memory of my friend than to show it off? I called out, “Emma?”

She came to the door between the dining room and the kitchen. “What’s up, Suzanne?” When she noticed the stranger, even though he was at least ten years older than she was, her hands went immediately to her hair, and the smile she threw his way was enough to brighten the room. That was my Emma, ever hopeful when it came to romance.

“Would you mind getting the skewers that James made for me out of the gadget drawer?”

“Be back in a flash,” she said. If she thought the request was odd, she didn’t show it.

Ten seconds later she came back out, holding the skewers in her hand. I took them from her, and then asked her, “How are the dishes coming?”

“I’ve almost got them done,” she said.

“Well, then, don’t let us keep you,” I replied. For some reason, I didn’t want her watching me as I handed the skewers over. It wasn’t as though I wanted the man for myself. Jake and I had never been closer. Nor did I mind if Emma decided to ask him out herself. It was just something about James’s memory that demanded some privacy.

Once she was back in the kitchen, I handed one skewer to him and kept the other for myself. He stroked the metal lightly with his fingertips, as though he were touching every mark and indentation James’s hammer made on the metal. With a careful eye, he examined the skewer as though he were looking for a clue that held the secrets of the universe, and when he handed it back to me, it was clearly done with great reluctance.

“You’re right. He was a fine craftsman,” the man said.

I nodded as I held the metal tight. “If he hadn’t made these just for me I would probably give you one, but I just can’t part with either one of them.”

He closed his eyes briefly as though he were blessing my decision. “You should keep them for yourself. They rightfully belong to you. Do you know if there’s anyplace in town I might purchase some of his work? For some reason that I can’t name, it moves me.”

“I know he had some on consignment at the hardware store just down the road. I’d tell you to let them know that I sent you if I thought it would do you any good, but if Burt Gentry finds out I’m the one who pointed you in his direction, he’ll most likely just double the price on you.”

He laughed at my explanation. “I’ve known too many men in my life just like that. I’m Rome, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Venice,” I replied with a smile.

“Now you’re having a little fun at my expense,” he said good-naturedly.

“Maybe just a little. I’m Suzanne. Yours is just an odd name, one that you don’t hear every day, I mean.”

“Granted, but it’s still not as odd as my given name.”

“Do you want to bet on that?”

“I would, but you’d lose. Brace yourself. Are you ready? It’s Romance.”

I chuckled a little until I saw that he wasn’t kidding. “You’re not serious. What kind of cruel joke were your parents playing when they named you?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s got a long and proud history in my family,” he said. “My great-great-grandfather was named Romance, and I don’t normally believe in coincidences, but he was a blacksmith, too, just like your friend used to be. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to the metal. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “Are you passing through, or are you going to be staying a while?”

Rome laughed at that. “How do you know that I don’t live around here?”

“Because I would have recognized you the second you walked through my door.”

He smiled gently as he asked, “Do you know
everyone
in April Springs, Suzanne?”

“If I don’t know them by name, I do by sight.”

“Well, that’s an impressive amount of knowledge indeed. Yes, I’m a stranger, and no, I’m not sure if I’ll be lingering here or not. Could you recommend a nice place to stay if I decide to hang around a while? I don’t want anything fancy like a hotel or an inn. What I’d really love is some kind of boardinghouse, if there is such a thing anymore.”

“As a matter of fact, I heard that Mr. Quimby is renting rooms again. He just put the flyer up on the lamppost outside the day before yesterday.”

“I’ll look for it on my way out,” he said.

Emma popped out in a rush just then, and she looked pleased that Rome was still there. “Everything’s finished in back,” she said.

“Excellent,” I answered. “After you do the trays and sweep, you can go.” I glanced at the racks and saw that we had just fewer than three dozen donuts left for the day. It was nearly impossible to make the numbers I sold match the ones I made, but I generally came pretty close. “Rome, if you’d like a few more donuts on the house, we can spare them.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d better stick with one. It was nice meeting you both.” He waved good-bye, glanced at Emma again and smiled, and then walked out.

“Who is that man, and how do you know him?” she grilled me.

“He’s new in town, he may or may not stay, he’s headed over to Mr. Quimby’s about a room, and his name is Rome. Now you know everything about him that I do. If you hurry, you might be able to catch him.”

“I’m on it,” she replied, sliding the extra donuts into three boxes and then taking the trays in back to wash and put away until we needed them again tomorrow.

Rome was still standing there with his back to me when I glanced out again, staring wistfully at the park where James had been murdered. It was so sad, especially since Rome hadn’t even known my friend. His empathy was strong, though, and ultimately it was probably the most attractive thing about him. I could understand Emma’s interest in the man. Kind eyes and a ready laugh were two of the sexiest things in the world to me, and he had both in abundance.

When Grace walked right past Rome to get to the donut shop, she nearly brushed shoulders with him, and I found myself wishing that one of them would say something to the other. Grace had gone through a rather major shock not that long ago when it came to her love life, and I kept hoping that she’d find someone she could let into her heart again. Maybe it was Rome, but there was a good chance that it wouldn’t be him. After all, he seemed to prefer blue jeans and T-shirts, while Grace loved getting dressed up at the smallest excuse.

Oh, well. A girl could dream, couldn’t she? I knew in my heart that Grace would have to find her own way without any poking or prodding from me, but that didn’t make it any easier for me to keep out of her love life.

CINNAMON DROPS

These poppers are a nice treat when it’s cold outside, and they go great with hot chocolate. We make donuts year-round at my house, but we especially like them on those cold and rainy days we get too many of in our part of the South.

INGREDIENTS

Mixed

• 1 egg, lightly beaten

• ½ cup whole milk (2% will do)

• ¼ cup sugar, white granulated

•
¹
⁄
₈
cup oil (canola is my favorite)

Sifted

• 1 cup flour, unbleached all-purpose

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

• 1½ teaspoons cinnamon

• 1 teaspoon nutmeg

• ¼ teaspoon salt

• Canola oil for frying (the amount depends on your pot or fryer)

INSTRUCTIONS

In one bowl, beat the egg thoroughly, then add the milk, sugar, and canola oil. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the wet, mixing well until you have a smooth consistency.

Drop bits of dough using a small-sized cookie scoop (the size of your thumb, approximately). Fry in hot canola oil (360 to 370 degrees F) 1½ to 2 minutes, turning halfway through.

Yield: 12–16 donut holes

CHAPTER 9

“Did you happen to notice that man near the light post when you walked past him?” I asked Grace as she came into the donut shop.

“No, why?” she asked as she turned around and glanced outside. Of course Rome was gone now. “I don’t see anyone out there.”

“He was there a second ago,” I said.

“Why should I have noticed him? Was he doing magic tricks or something?”

Emma had overheard that, and her enthusiasm was overwhelming. “No, but he has the dreamiest eyes I’ve ever seen. How could you miss him?”

“I must have had something else on my mind,” Grace said, clearly amused by Emma’s reaction to the man.

I noticed her straining her neck to look for him outside, and I realized that I’d probably gotten all of the work out of her that I was going to manage for the day.

“Go on, Emma,” I said. “I’ll finish sweeping up for you.”

“Thanks,” she said as she thrust the broom into my hands and bolted out the door.

“What was that about?” Grace asked after Emma was gone.

“Youthful enthusiasm, I’d say.”

Grace smiled. “Ah, I remember it well. So, as soon as you’re finished, let’s talk about murder, shall we?”

“I’m all for it,” I said. I put the broom aside and grabbed my marker board. After I’d erased today’s specials, I asked, “I think we should put our list up on the board, don’t you?”

“I know how much you like making them, so I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of it,” she said.

“Good. Then let’s get started.” I took the dry erase pen and wrote
REBECCA LINK
,
MURPHY ARMSTRONG
,
MRS. PINERUSH
,
FORREST PINERUSH
, and
MYSTERY COUSIN
. “Is that it?”

“And we’re not including Trish, right?” Grace asked.

“That is correct,” I said firmly. “Her alibi works for me, so there’s no reason to write her name on the board.” There were four people in my life I knew couldn’t be murderers, and Trish was one of them. The other three, in no particular order, were Grace, Momma, and Jake. Sure, there were other folks I doubted had the capacity for homicide, but I’d stake my life on those four, no matter how overwhelming the evidence might be.

“Good enough,” she said, ending the discussion right there. As she studied the list of names, Grace asked, “Can you honestly see Mrs. Pinerush stabbing James in the chest with a metal skewer? I know that I can’t.”

“At first I thought that she might have paid someone else to do it, but Jake doesn’t think it was a professional hit. He told me that too much was left to chance for a real killer to have done it. I suppose if her motivation was strong enough, though, Mrs. Pinerush could have done it.”

“Suzanne, she told us that she practically raised James. Why would she kill him? From everything we’ve heard, he’d already given up on ever getting rid of that money.”

“Maybe so, but we can’t just cross her name off without a better reason than that.”

“Okay, we’ll keep her there.” She tapped the next name on the list. “On the other hand, I have no problem believing that Forrest could be a killer. There’s something about that man I just don’t like.”

“He doesn’t exactly come across as—”

“Human?” Grace suggested, interrupting me.

“I was going to say friendly, but that works, too.”

“So, we’re clearly not finished with either one of them, but I have a question. How are we going to get them to cooperate with us and answer any more questions? They can stonewall us all they want to, and they even have a butler to keep us away.”

“Don’t forget the fact that we have a spy working on the inside for us,” I reminded her.

“Are we really going to ask Harry to do something that might get him fired?”

“Hey, he volunteered, remember?”

Grace bit her lower lip for a moment. “Maybe so, but I still don’t like it.”

“We all do what we have to do,” I said. “Harry’s a big boy, and I’m pretty sure that he can take care of himself.”

“Okay, I get that. But before we go charging back there blindly, we need to talk to him again and see if he’s found out anything new about what the Pinerushes have been up to. They must care about James, at least a little. Why else bring a lawyer into it? It means that they want to know what happened to him. At least that’s one possibility,” Grace said.

“What’s another one?” I asked.

“What if one of them actually killed him, and they want to make sure that they covered their tracks properly? What better way to be sure that there are no loose ends than to do a little digging themselves, not to find the killer, but to be absolutely certain that the crime can’t be traced back to them.”