Lemon Larceny (The Donut Mysteries) (19 page)

“Do you have any
ideas at all who might have done it?” Greta asked timidly as she and Momma began
to pick up the larger pieces of broken glass from the inside.

“It’s an act of plain
cowardice, if you ask me,” I said, trying to goad one of them into a reaction,
to no avail.

“Can we help you
clean that up?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I’d put my mother to work
without offering to lend a hand myself.

“No, you’ll just
get in the way if you try,” Greta said, and then she glanced at Momma and
softly added, “It’s crowded enough in here with two of us.”

Momma
smiled.
 
“You know what they
say.
 
Many hands make light work.”

“I’ve never heard
anyone
say that,” Greta said.

I chose to not
even reply.

“What did they
use to do it?” Anna asked.
 
“My
guess is that it was something big and heavy.”

“Actually, it was
a brick,” I said.

Greta gasped. “A
brick?
 
That could have been
deadly.”

“Fortunately, we
weren’t anywhere near the window when it happened,” I said.
 
“That’s not the worst part of it,
though.
 
It was no random act.”
 
It was time to share our news with them
to see how they reacted.
 
I didn’t
know how long the police chief would keep the contents of that note under
wraps, but I couldn’t be sure that the message we’d received wouldn’t be spread
all over town before we could use it to our advantage.

Anna looked at me
sharply.
 
“How could you possibly
know that?”

“There was a note
attached to it,” Momma said.

Anna looked
sharply at my mother.
 
“What did it
say?”

“As a matter of
fact, it warned us to butt out,” I said.

“Butt out of
what?” Greta asked as she finished picking up the larger pieces and reached for
her broom and dustpan.

“We don’t think
my aunt really had an accident,” I said, watching the two of them as closely as
I could.

“Of course it was
an accident,” Anna said quickly.
 
“There’s no reason to think otherwise.”

Greta
nodded.
 
“I found her at the bottom
of the stairs myself.”
 
She gasped,
and then she added, “You don’t think someone pushed her, do you?”

“We have a theory
about what happened to her, but we’re not ready to share it with the world
quite yet,” I explained.

“Do you have any
idea who might have done it?” Anna asked softly.

“We have several
suspects, and we’re trying to trim our list, but evidently we hit a little too
close to home with someone we spoke with today.”

“What makes you think
that?” Greta asked me.

“Well, for one
thing, a note wrapped around a brick is a pretty clear indication that we’re
doing
something
right,” I said.

“Am I on your
list?” Greta asked.

“How about me?” Anna
added.
 
“Am I there?
 
Who else is on it?
 
You can’t say something like that and
just drop it.
 
We deserve to know.”

“We’re not really
in any position to talk about any of that right now,” Momma said, answering for
me.

Greta slowed her
sweeping for a moment, and then she quickly finished.
 
“There, that ought to do it.
 
I wouldn’t walk around barefoot if I
were you until you’ve had a chance to sweep the space again, just in case I
missed something.”

“Thank you,” I
said.
 
“May I ask you both a
question?”

They glanced at
each other for a moment, and then they turned to me in near unison.
 
“Go on,” Anna said, clearly the brains
of the pair.

“Who do you think
in town might have wanted to see my aunt dead?”

They glanced at
each other again, and then Anna replied, “I’m sure that I don’t have a
clue.
 
Everyone loved Jean.”

“I don’t know of
anybody, either,” Greta said.
 
“Now,
let me stick this back in the closet, and then we’ll be on our way.
 
Have you called anyone about patching
your window?” she asked as she pointed to where the glass used to be.

“No worries on
that front, at least.
 
Hank Caldwell
is on his way,” I said.
 
Greta
smirked a little as I said the handyman’s name.
 
“Am I missing something?”

“No, it’s just
odd that you’d ask us about anyone who might have had a motive to hurt Miss
Jean, and in the next breath, you mention one man who might have had a reason
indeed.”

“Greta,” Anna
said firmly, clearly warning her friend.
 
“You know how I feel about spreading gossip.”

I had a hunch
that she was all for it as long as she was the one doing the spreading, and I
was about to urge Greta to tell us when she overruled Anna’s warning.
 
“It’s not really gossip if everyone in
town knows it, Anna,” the housekeeper said.
 
“Besides, they’re going to find out
sooner or later.”

“What, are you
talking about the fact that they had a bad breakup not that long ago?” I asked.

“It was more than
that,” Greta said.
 
“At one point,
Hank was telling everyone who would listen that he was in love, and the next he
was moping around town like someone just ran over his dog.
 
When he would talk about it, he’d say
that no one was going to dump him, and that any woman who tried would live to
regret it.”

“It was really kind
of sad,” Anna added, “but that doesn’t make him a killer.”

“Who knows what
force is strong enough to drive someone to murder?” my mother asked.

“If you ask me,
I’d say that a broken heart could do it,” Greta said.

“Or coveting
something that someone else had might,” Anna added.

“Who did that?” I
asked her.

“As I said, I
don’t like gossip, never have, so don’t expect me to stand here telling tales
out of school,” she said.

“Then let’s all
go inside and do it,” I said as I started toward the door.

“All I will say
is that there were certain men around here who wanted what your aunt had,” Anna
replied.

And women, too, I
thought to myself, considering the fact of how eager Anna was to get her hands
on my aunt’s property.

“We’d love to
hear more specific information, if you’ve got any,” Momma said.

Greta started to
speak again when Anna interrupted her.
 
“Just ask around.
 
You’ll
hear all about it soon enough.
 
Greta, we’ve got that casserole in the oven, and we don’t want it to
burn.”

“That’s true,”
Greta said.
 
“I just love Anna’s
cooking, don’t you?”

“Pardon me?”
Momma asked.

“How was the food
she brought you before?” Greta asked us.

“We haven’t had
the opportunity to sample it yet,” Momma admitted.

“That’s
okay.
 
It actually tastes better the
second or third day,” Anna said.
 
“Well,
I’m glad that no one was hurt.
 
Come
on, Greta.”

“Good-bye,” the
housekeeper said as she handed the broom and dustpan to my mother.
 
“If you change your mind about me
cleaning this house for you while you’re here, my number’s on the fridge.”

“We’ll be sure to
let you know if we change our minds,” I said.

As the two women
walked back to Anna’s house, Momma joined me on the porch and we watched them
together.

“They’re on odd
pair of ducks, aren’t they?” Momma asked me.

I was about to respond
when Hank Caldwell drove up in his truck.
 
“Yes, but I’m not sure that makes either one of them a killer.
 
Besides, we need to focus on the task at
hand.
 
It looks as though we’ve got
another suspect to interview.”

“You know, I’m
beginning to think that whoever threw that brick through the window did us a
real favor,” Momma said.

“How so?”

“How else could
we manage to get all of our suspects to come by the house to speak with us?”

“You’re leaving
one of them out, though.
 
Don’t
forget about Adam Jefferson,” I reminded her.

“All right, all
but one then.
 
Who knows?
 
Maybe if we’re lucky, he’ll come by tonight
as well.”

“You never know,
but for now, let’s just concentrate on Hank.”

“Done and done,”
Momma said.

As Hank
approached us, I noticed that he was frowning.
 
What had upset him so?

I didn’t know
yet, but I had a hunch that we were about to find out.

Chapter 17

“What’s wrong,
Hank?” I asked him as closed in.

“I drove by a few
minutes ago and saw you talking to those two old biddies,” he said darkly.
 
“I almost didn’t come back.”

“Why not?” I
asked him.

“Tell me the
truth, Suzanne.
 
They were talking
about me, weren’t they?”

“What makes you say
that?” I asked him.

“Because neither
one of them can keep their tongues from wagging in their mouths.
 
Greta’s bad, but Anna’s worse.
 
She claims that she’s not a gossip, but
she’s one of the biggest ones I know.”

“I confess that
we did hear that you and my sister were more serious than you led us to believe
before,” Momma said.

Hank just
shrugged.
 
“Who ever wants to admit
that they cared more than the other person in a relationship?
 
I thought we were headed somewhere, but
evidently I was the
only
one who felt
that way.
 
It happens
sometimes.
 
I’ve already put it
behind me.”

“So quickly?” I
asked.

“Live and let
live, that’s what I always say.
 
I
figured that if she didn’t want to be with me, that was her decision, not mine,”
Hank said.
 
“Now, let’s see about
that window.”

“And the hasp
downstairs,” Momma added.

“And the
hasp.”
 
The handyman studied the window
frame, measured the opening carefully, and then he said, “I’ll have to order
the glass, but I can cut a sheet of plywood for you and have it installed in no
time.”

“That would be
great,” I said when I noticed that Momma was about to ask him something else.
 
“Momma, can I have a word with you?”

“Of course,” she
said, though she looked a bit confused by my request.

“Don’t worry
about me.
 
I’ll be back in a few
minutes,” Hank said, and then he got into his truck and drove off.

The moment he was
gone, Momma turned to me and asked, “Why did we just let him go, Suzanne?
 
I was about to ask him about his alibi.”

“I know you were
up to something.
 
Why do you think I
stopped you?”

“I don’t
understand,” my mother said.
 
“I
thought that was what we were doing getting him over here.”

“It is, but
there’s more to it than that.
 
If we
run him off now, we’ll never get that window patched or the hasp replaced, and
I don’t know about you, and while the bulkhead door will hold, I wouldn’t be
able to sleep tonight if the window were wide open.”

“You’re
right.
 
So, do we wait until he
installs the new glass to ask him any more probing questions?”

“No, we can’t
afford to put it off that long.
 
Once he mounts the new hinge and then puts the plywood in place, he’s
fair game.”

“Good,” Momma
said.

Hank was as good
as his word.
 
He drove up less than
ten minutes later and pulled out a sheet of plywood he’d already cut.

“This will just
take a second,” he said as he hoisted it into place.
 
“I’m driving two screws into the trim,
but when I come back with my window guy tomorrow, I’ll putty and patch it.
 
You won’t even know it had been worked
on.”

“We trust you,” I
said, and for the work he was doing, it was true.
 
It wasn’t factual when I entertained the
idea that he may have killed my aunt, though.

“That’s good to
hear,” he said.

Once the plywood
was in place, he tapped it a few times.
 
“It won’t stop a raging bull, but it should hold you just fine until
tomorrow.
 
Now, let’s see about that
hasp downstairs.”
 

He hurried down
the stairs, with Momma and me just behind him.
 
The man was lightning quick, and the
door was soon more secure than it had been in a very long time.

As he put his
battery-powered screwdriver away, he said, “If there’s nothing else, I’m going
to head on home.
 
It’s been a long
day, and I’m beat.”

“I was wondering
if you could tell me something,” Momma said as we walked back up the stairs to
the first floor, and I knew that we were off to the races.
 
Based on the man’s past history, he
would bolt at the slightest suggestion that we might be accusing him of murder.

“Sure, if I can,”
he said.

As we neared the
front door, my mother said to him, “I know that my sister was quite fond of
you.
 
It had to be difficult hearing
that she’d passed away.”