Lemon Larceny (The Donut Mysteries) (13 page)

“You’d be
surprised how much I find out by keeping my ears open and my mouth shut,” he
said as he filled out his paperwork.
 
Chief Kessler frowned, and then he put his pen back in his pocket.
 
“Want some free advice, worth more than
it’s going to cost you?
 
Don’t do
it, Ms. Hart.”

“It’s Suzanne,” I
said automatically.
 
“What exactly is
it that I’m not supposed to do?”

“It’s not going
to do you any good being coy with me.
 
I have friends all over this state.
 
Do you think that there’s the slightest chance I didn’t check up on you
and your mother when I heard that you and your mother were both in town?
 
I understand that you’re quite the
amateur sleuth, but there’s no crime that needs to be investigated here.
 
Your aunt fell down the stairs, plain
and simple.
 
There’s nothing here for
you to do.”

I shook my
head.
 
“I don’t know who your
sources are, but they couldn’t be further from the truth.”
 
I thought there might be a chance that he
was bluffing, going on rumors and innuendos instead of facts.

That’s when he
started listing some of the cases I’d worked on in the past with my friends,
providing enough details with each one to prove that he wasn’t bluffing at all.
 
“Care to keep denying it now?” he asked after
he finished summing up my past investigations.
 
It was more thorough than I would have
liked, to be honest.
 
Was he a
particularly good researcher, or were my exploits that easy to uncover?
 

“What can I
say?
 
I’m here to see to my aunt’s
last wishes,” I said.

“If that’s the
way that you want to play it, that’s okay by me.
 
Just don’t stir up trouble where this
isn’t any to be found.
 
I know when
something like this happens, it’s natural to look around for someone to blame,
but like it or not, accidents happen all of the time,” he said as he tore off a
copy of the police report and handed it to me.
 
“I’d get that lock fixed sooner rather
than later, if I were you.”

“I’ve got it
covered, but no one’s getting in through there now,” I said firmly.

“Maybe not, but
it’s blocking the only exit down here, and that’s a code violation.”

“Are you going to
write me up for it?” I asked him.

“Of course
not.
 
I’m just saying that it’s not
something you want to leave.
 
I’d
get Hank to take a look at it if I were you.”

“He’s already
been called,” I said.
 
“Thanks for
coming by, Chief.”

“Happy to do it,”
he said.

I followed the
police chief upstairs, and after he was gone, Momma asked, “How did I do?”

“I’ve got to say,
your acting was superb,” I said.

“I wasn’t
acting.
 
He seemed rather cavalier
about the break-in, didn’t he?”

“I thought so,
too,” I said, and then I recounted everything that he’d said to me.

When I got to the
part about him knowing about my past involvement with murder cases, Momma said,
“Suzanne, are you really all that surprised that you’ve gotten a reputation
over the years, particularly in the law enforcement community?”

“I guess I never
really thought about it,” I said.

“Well, you
should.”

“My real question
is why would the police chief investigate the two of us at all?”

She frowned.
 
“Perhaps he just likes knowing who is in
his town.”

“It’s possible,
or maybe there’s something more to it than that.
 
At least we have an alibi for him that we
can check now.”

“Ah yes, the
diner.
 
Shall we go there and see if
it’s true?”

“Why not?” I
asked.
 
“We can grab a bite to eat
and ask about the police chief’s alibi at the same time.
 
After that, we can head over to Adam’s
office and see what the attorney has to say for himself.
 
After all, he told us that we needed to
come by today anyway.”

“Good.
 
That just leaves Anna Albright for
last.”

“Boy, you really
aren’t all that fond of her, are you?” I asked my mother.

“No, not really.”

“Then I’m glad
that we’re saving her for the end,” I said.
 
“Now, let’s go to Burt’s and see if the
chief of police was lying to us about where he was when Aunt Jean was
murdered.”

“Welcome to
Burt’s.
 
Have a seat anywhere,
ladies, I’ll be with you in a shake,” a middle-aged waitress with short blonde
hair and granny glasses said as Momma and I walked into the diner.
 
I noticed that her nametag said Tammy.

“Thank you, Tammy.
 
We will,” Momma said.

She looked
closely at both of us.
 
“Do I know
you two?
 
You don’t look familiar.”

“No, this is our
first time here,” I said.

“Then how do you
know my name?”
 
I pointed to her
nametag, and she smiled.
 
“Sometimes
I forget that I’m even wearing it.”

As Momma and I
found a booth against the large window, I said, “I suppose that this place has
its own sort of charm, doesn’t it?”

Momma
smiled.
 
“I like it.
 
It reminds me of a place your father
used to take me to when we first started dating.”

“Did it look
newer back then?”

“Suzanne, expand
your horizons a little.
 
I think
it’s delightful,” she said as she selected one of the menus leaning up against
the napkin dispenser.

I looked around
at the worn linoleum floor, the scratched Formica tabletops, and the faded
yellow walls and wondered where the attraction my mother was seeing was.
 
“Okay, if you say so.”

“Come on.
 
Where’s your sense of adventure?” she
asked me.

“Hey, I’m going
to order something to eat.
 
Isn’t
that adventurous enough, given our surroundings?” I asked with a smile.
 
“Honestly, I like eating at places like
this.”
 
As I looked at the menu, I
wondered aloud, “What looks good?”

“I’m having the
country-style steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans,” Momma said.
 
“That was always your father’s
favorite.”

“Then we’ll make
it two,” I said.
 
I loved that even
though Momma had found love again with the April Springs Police Chief, she
still made lots of references to my late father.

Tammy walked over
with an order pad in one hand and a pencil in the other.
 
“Have you had time to decide yet, or
should I come back later?”

“We’ll have two
of the lunch specials, with sweet teas to match,” Momma said.

“Good choices all,”
Tammy said.
 
“I’ll be right back.”

I waited until our
waitress returned with our teas to ask, “Have you seen Chief Kessler today?”

“Oh, he’s here
just about every morning.
 
Most days
you could set your watch by him.”

“Including
yesterday?” I asked.

Tammy thought
about, and then she frowned.
 
“You
know what?
 
He skipped us entirely
yesterday.
 
That’s odd.
 
I never realized that he didn’t show up.”

It was
interesting indeed, for more reasons than she might suspect.
 

“Are you sure
about that?” Momma asked.

“Believe me, I
notice when he’s gone.
 
The chief
eats the same thing every morning; two eggs over medium, two pieces of white
toast, and two slices of bacon.
 
It’s a five-dollar meal, and he always leaves me a ten and tells me to
keep the change.
 
I’m not about to
forget that kind of tipper, or not miss him when he doesn’t show up.”
 
She looked around the dining room as she
added, “Believe me, most of these guys leave me their nickels and dimes at
breakfast.”

“Thanks, Tammy,”
I said.

“Happy to
chat.
 
It makes the day go by
quicker.
 
Your lunches will be right
out.
 
Burt’s got an assembly line
set up in the kitchen for the daily specials, so you won’t have long to wait.”

After she was
gone, I said, “So, the sheriff’s alibi doesn’t hold water.
 
Why would he lie to us, Momma?”

“Could he have simply
forgotten about it?” my mother asked.

“I can’t
imagine.
 
Where did you have
breakfast yesterday?” I asked her.

“At home with
Phillip,” she said, “where I have breakfast nearly every day.
 
How about you?”

“I had a cup of
coffee and a power bar, and then when I got to work, I sampled a new lemon-filled
donut that I’ve been playing with.”

“What makes it
different from the kind you usually serve?”

“This one is
tarter, and it uses real lemon zest in the filling and the batter,” I said.

“That sounds
delicious.
 
How was it?”

“It was too tart for
my taste,” I said.
 
“That’s not the
point.
 
I might not be able to tell
you about something that happened a month ago, but I don’t know anyone who
can’t remember where they had breakfast the day before.”

“So, the chief is
lying to us,” Momma said.

“That would be my
guess.
 
The only real question I
have is why would he do that?”

“Maybe he never
dreamed we’d try to verify his alibi.”

I smiled.
 
“If he thought that, he was clearly
wrong.
 
So, where was he really, and
what was he hiding?
 
Does it mean he
had something to do with what happened to Aunt Jean, or is there something else
that he’s trying to keep under wraps?”

“I have no idea,
and what’s worse, I don’t even know how we go about finding out.”

“We just keep
digging until we uncover something,” I said as Tammy brought us our food.
 
There was a large slab of ground beef
swimming in mushroom gravy on the plate.
 
The mashed potatoes sported a gravy reservoir of their own, and some of
it had even spilled over onto the green beans.

“There you go,”
she said, pausing just long enough to top off our glasses of tea.

“That’s a lot of
gravy,” I said before she left.

“Burt’s famous
for it,” she said.
 
“I know it looks
like a lot, but take a taste.
 
If
you don’t like it, I’ll bring you something different.”

I took my spoon
and dipped it delicately into the gravy.
 
When I tasted it, I was amazed by the subtle flavors and nuances in
it.
 
“That’s really good,” I said,
showing my amazement.

“There’s a chef
in Raleigh who’s been after him to give up the recipe for years, but Burt won’t
budge.
 
He claims he got it from his
late grandmother, but I know for a fact that Ruby Devine couldn’t cook a cup of
hot water.
 
No, this is all Burt’s.”

“Thank you,” I
said.

Momma took a
taste of her own.
 
“This is
amazing.
 
I’m getting undertones of
red wine, leeks, and something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

“Your palate is
clearly more educated than mine,” I said as I took a bite of the mashed
potatoes.
 
They were good enough,
but the gravy was clearly the star of this meal.
 
“I just know that it’s good.”

“Who would have
believed that we’d find something like this in Maple Hollow?” Momma asked as
she relished another bite.

“The world’s just
full of surprises,” I said.

As we ate,
Momma’s fork paused.
 
“Suzanne, I’ve
been wondering about something for awhile.”

“If I can
enlighten you, I’d be glad to,” I said.

“Do people lie to
you often?”

“Are you
kidding?
 
All of the time,” I said
after I took a sip of too-sweet tea.
 
I liked mine sugary, but too much of this stuff would put just about
anyone into a diabetic coma.

“How do you sift
through all of the lies, then?” she asked me.

“I once heard
someone say that at the heart of every lie is a kernel of truth,” I said.
 
“Sometimes you can learn more about the
lies people tell you than the truth.”

“How so?”

“I believe that
the truth shows your character, but lies show your intent,” I said.

“Did you hear
that from someone else as well?”

“No, that one’s
all mine.
 
Momma, you can’t take it
personally.
 
There are lots of
reasons that people lie, especially during a murder investigation, even though
they might not realize that’s what we’re conducting here.”

“For example?”

I took one final
bite, pushed my plate away, and then I said, “The most obvious reason people
lie is to hide the truth, but it’s not as simple as that.
 
They can do it out of guilt, but they
also might lie to keep from having to disclose something that embarrasses them,
or even something that might incriminate them in a completely different
sin.
 
That’s not all, though.
 
Sometimes they even lie out of
compassion.”