Killer Crullers (21 page)

She laughed. “Well, it’s actually Stephania, but my dad wanted a boy, so he shortened it to Steve as soon as I could talk. I wasn’t sure about it at first, but I kind of like it now. What can I do for you? If you’re looking for an apartment, I hate to tell you, but we’re booked full.”

“Actually, I’m looking into a past tenant’s life, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

She looked a little startled by my confession. “You aren’t a cop, are you?”

“No, ma’am.” I thought of one of the elaborate stories that Grace and I used occasionally, but I just couldn’t bring myself to lie to this woman for some reason. “It’s about Desmond Ray.”

“I heard about that,” Steve said, saddened by the mention of his name. “I can’t believe someone just shot him down like a rabid dog. What’s your concern in the matter?”

“He was killed beside my shop,” I admitted.

That made Steve take a step back. “You can’t be Gabby Williams.”

“No, I’m on the other side. I’m Suzanne Hart.”

“The donut lady,” she said as she nodded.

“That’s me. How did you hear about Gabby?”

“The scuttlebutt around here is that she’s the one who killed him,” Steve said.

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” I said.

“Or read, either. I know that. I just didn’t have a compelling reason to think otherwise.”

I couldn’t hold off one question any longer. “Excuse me for saying so, but you’re not exactly what I pictured when I rang your doorbell.”

“Why, because I can speak in complete sentences, or because I’m a woman of a certain age?”

I had to laugh at her question.

“What’s so amusing?” she asked.

“I don’t have a chance whether I pick A or B, do I?”

Steve nodded. “You’ve got a point. I just hate stereotypes.”

“I do, too,” I said. “You have to admit, though, you aren’t exactly the norm.”

“I don’t know; it makes perfect sense to me. I’ve always been good with my hands, Dad made sure of that. I like all different kinds of people, and I hardly pay any rent at all. It’s ideal, as far as I’m concerned.”

“The way you explain it, it makes perfect sense. So, will you help me? Is there anything you could tell me about Desmond that the police don’t already know?”

“Suzanne, I’ve never been all that fond of speaking ill of the dead.”

“I understand completely,” I said, “but it might be the only way his killer pays for what he or she did.”

She looked around, and then said, “I’ve kept you standing out in the hallway long enough. Would you like some tea?”

“That would be nice,” I said.

Steve led me inside, and I found a well-furnished living room with an easel in one corner. “Do you paint?”

“Just about everything,” she said.

After she brought us both cups of warm tea, Steve said, “So, you think it might be a woman, don’t you?”

“It’s a possibility,” I admitted as I took a sip. It was warm, fragrant, and rich, nothing like I’d ever had before. “This is really good.”

“It’s my own blend,” she said as she took a drink herself before setting it aside. “Did you have any particular woman in mind?”

She was testing me to see if I’d done any other digging, and I didn’t have a problem obliging her. “Katie Wilkes comes to mind, offhand.”

Steve nodded. “I think so, too, but it’s important that you don’t forget the men.”

I was willing to go a little further, but I didn’t want to supply her with my complete list of suspects without getting at least something in return. “You mean someone like Bill Rodgers.”

“Bingo,” she said. “If I had to go after anyone, it would be one of them.”

“Could you tell me why?”

“Katie was the jealous type, and I told Desmond once that he’d have to chew his own leg off to get away from her if he ever decided to break up with her. She had a way of latching on to that boy that was nearly criminal.”

“Did they fight much?”

Steve nodded. “All the time. Nothing Desmond did was good enough for her, and she was constantly accusing him of stepping out on her, though I couldn’t imagine it. Desmond was no saint, but he wouldn’t have done that.”

“How sure of that are you?” I asked.

Steve shrugged. “Not as certain as I probably should be before saying it, but you’ve got a way to make me want to share.”

I laughed. “Bartenders and donut makers are both good listeners.”

“I’ll take your word for it, since you’re the first of either I’ve ever met. Desmond tried to break up with Katie twice while he was living here, but somehow it never seemed to take hold.”

“How can that be?” I asked, honestly curious.

“She kept stalking him, and she must have found a way to wiggle back into his good graces. I told him he was a fool, I’m sorry to say, but he said he knew what he was doing. The last time I spoke with him he told me he was moving, and that he thought he’d finally managed to break free. It was odd, though. I offered to check his apartment and give him his security deposit back if it merited it, but he told me to keep it for myself.”

“Why did he say that?”

She frowned at me as she answered. “He told me that he was about to come into some money.”

That opened up quite a few interesting possibilities. Was he planning to get it from his aunt, or perhaps from another source? “Did he happen to say where it might be coming from?”

“Not to me, but Pam might know.”

“Pam?” I asked.

“The woman in number eighty-two.”

“Were they ever a couple?” I asked.

Steve just laughed. “I doubt it. Pam just turned eighty, but the two of them were close for some odd reason.”

It might pay to have a chat with her. “Do you happen to know if she’s home right now?”

“Pam never goes anywhere. We like to say that if she didn’t see it out of her peephole, it never happened.”

“Got it. Now, how about Bill Rodgers?”

Steve’s face clouded up. “He came by looking for Desmond the day after he moved. He was screaming at me, ranting about losing his money, and saying that Desmond was going to pay for what he’d done, one way or another.”

“It was a serious threat, then?”

“It alarmed me enough that I called the police,” Steve admitted.

“What did Chief Martin say?” I asked.

She looked confused. “Who’s that?”

Then I remembered that her police chief had to be different than mine. “Sorry, that was a slip. What did the police do?”

“They made a report, which is often what they’re best at.” She took another sip of tea, and then her telephone rang.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“By all means.”

She answered it, spoke briefly, and then hung up. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. There’s a leak in one of the faucets upstairs.”

I stood, as well. “Thanks so much for the tea, and the conversation.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said with a smile. As Steve led me through the door and out into the hallway, she said, “Hang on one second, would you?”

I assumed that she was retrieving some tools, so I did as she asked. Sure enough, she came out a minute later with a small toolbox in her hand. “I took a chance and spoke with Pam. Since that’s where the leak is, she’s agreed to speak with you, as long as I’m there, too.”

“That was so sweet of you,” I said. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad to help you out, but I’m really doing it for Desmond. He wasn’t my favorite tenant by any definition of the word, but I still think of him as one of mine, and I look out for every last one of those folks as best I can.”

“I understand.” As we climbed the steps, I asked, “Is there anything I should know about Pam?”

“Treat her like a peer, not a little old lady. She’s sharper than the two of us put together, and if you handle it right, you could learn a lot.”

“Thanks again,” I said. “If you’re ever in April Springs, come by my shop and I’ll treat you to a donut.”

“I might just do that,” she said.

“I hope you do.”

We didn’t even have to knock on the door to Apartment 82. A spry older woman with a face that was a roadmap to a hard life opened the door the second we hit the landing.

Steve said, “Pam, this is Suzanne. She’s a donut maker.”

Pam smiled, showing a full set of bright white teeth. “You didn’t happen to bring any with you, did you? I dearly love a good éclair.”

“I’m sorry, but if I’m back this way again, I’ll be sure to grab one just for you.”

Pam shook her head. “That would hardly pay enough to cover your delivery costs.”

“I hadn’t planned to charge you,” I said with a smile. “I feel as though I already owe half a dozen to Steve, so it wouldn’t be any trouble to throw an éclair in, as well.”

She smiled at that. “In that case, I’d be delighted.”

I had to remember to bring donuts and an éclair the next time I came this way, whether it was related to the case or not. “No promises when it might be, though,” I said.

“That’s not a problem. I adore surprises.”

Steve asked, “Is the leak in the bathroom or the kitchen?”

“Kitchen,” Pam said. “Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. It’s what I do.”

After Steve started examining the sink, Pam said, “I’d offer you some tea or coffee, but I need water for that.”

From under the sink, Steve sang out, “Working on it, dear.”

I laughed, enjoying the company of these two bright women. “Don’t rush on my account. I’ve had plenty of both today.”

“Tell me,” Pam said, “I’ve always wondered about something. What time do you have to get up every morning to have donuts available for sale in your shop?”

“I used to go in really early, but I pushed my start time ahead to three
A.M.
so I could get a little more sleep every day. I may not even go in until three on some days.”

Pam was amazed. “And you do that every day? Surely you take at least one day off a week to rest.”

“No, ma’am. If I’m in April Springs, I’m making donuts.”

“My goodness, I don’t know where you find the energy.” As she settled onto a chair in her dining area, Pam motioned for me to take the other. “I find two chairs perfect for my needs. I never liked a great deal of company, so if anyone else comes by, they have to fend for themselves.”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said.

“Nonsense. Stephania spoke quite highly of you, so you’re now instantly moved into the ‘friend’ category, and I can’t seem to replace those fast enough. That’s one of the hazards of getting older.”

When I didn’t say anything, she waited a few moments, and then smiled. “Good. I just hate it when people tell me I’m not all that old. Balderdash. I’m ancient, and I know it, but I refuse to be treated like it. Now, you wanted to know about Desmond. He was a mixed bag at best, I’m afraid.”

It was clear that Pam had no compunctions about speaking ill of the dead. After all, to be fair, who else would she have to talk about when most of her friends were deceased?

“Could you tell me about him?” I asked.

“He was tall, deeply tanned, and had a mop of dark hair.”

“Actually, we met. He came into my shop the morning he was killed,” I admitted. I knew quickly enough there was no dancing around with this woman and the truth. I had a feeling that she’d see right through any pretext I tried to use.

“You poor dear. Very well, we’ll dig a little deeper then. Desmond was a bit of a cad, playing with that girl’s emotions like he did. He was very hot and cold about her, and she had a temper that wouldn’t tolerate his games. One moment she’d be threatening to kill him, and the next they’d be locked in an embrace, barely coming up for air.” She paused, and then said, “You’re probably wondering how I see so much. The keyhole is a remarkable way to observe the world while being undetected.”

“It’s great for spying, too,” I said without thinking it through. I needed this woman’s observations, and I’d just insulted her.

I was about to apologize when she burst out laughing. “Exactly. Call it what it is, an old woman’s answer to television. The insulation on the inside walls isn’t great, so I was privy to both sights and sounds. It was certainly better than what’s being offered on the idiot box these days.”

I couldn’t disagree with her. “What else did you see?”

“The day before Desmond moved out, a rather large man with meaty hands came by and pounded on the door so hard I thought it might splinter under his touch.”

That could possibly be Chet, though I knew the description wasn’t enough to tag him for the action. “What happened?”

“Desmond either wasn’t home, or he was wise enough not to answer. Then the pounding began on my door.”

“What did you do?”

Pam laughed, her clear eyes sparkling. “I didn’t hide under my bed like a coward waiting for the end. I threw open the door, of course. The gentleman identified himself as Brett, and went on to ask about Desmond. When I told him I had no idea where he was, he said that I should tell him to straighten up, or he’d take care of him. I couldn’t imagine what had provoked him so.”

I had a pretty good idea of that myself. “Could his name have been Chet, by any chance, instead of Brett?”

Pam seemed to consider it, and then nodded her head. “Yes, I believe you’re right. It
was
Chet. I must be slipping.”

I certainly hadn’t seen any evidence to back that up since I’d been there. “Is there anything else?”

“No, but isn’t that enough? Now tell me, how on earth do you make a living charging so little for your donuts?”

“Have you ever been in my shop?” I asked. If she’d visited Donut Hearts, I certainly didn’t remember it, and I had a feeling that Pam was a woman who would prove difficult to forget.

“No, but if you’re charging the going rate, you must either have a phenomenal volume, or the wolf is never far from your door.”

“Let me put it this way,” I said with a grin. “He’s there so often I keep a bowl of water available at all times just in case he gets thirsty.”

“Got it,” Pam said.

Steve reappeared and said, “That should do it.”

“You fixed it that easily?” Pam asked.

“Hey, sometimes a good tightening up is all anything needs.”

“You are a miracle worker,” Pam said as she pressed a small pretty box into Steve’s hands.