Powdered Peril (12 page)

I could see that she was telling the truth. It was clear that Rose had been fond of Peter, but I had to wonder about Leah’s interpretation of the relationship. Was it possible that Leah had seen it through her own eyes, where no relationship she had with a man could be simply a friendship?

“Then we should get started right now if we’re going to meet Bryan’s deadline,” I said as I put my teacup down.

“I have to admit, it will be much nicer having company doing such a painful task,” Rose said.

As we left the apartment and headed upstairs, I said, “It must be tough being in charge of everything around here all by yourself.”

“There are times it’s trying, but in the end, I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” she said. “I get to know so many nice people; it’s almost like we’re all family here.”

Was this woman just a little too good to be true, or was I being cynical about her attitude? I honestly wasn’t sure, but I’d get Grace’s take on it later. While I might be the better investigator between the two of us, she was the better judge of character and sincerity. I wasn’t sure if working in sales had made her that way, or if she’d gone into sales because of it. Either way, I usually trusted her instincts.

As Rose started to unlock Peter’s door, I heard Grace take in a deep breath. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently, hoping to give her some kind of reassurance.

“My, they left it in quite a mess, didn’t they?” the manager said as she looked around the living room.

I went to see what Rose was talking about, and saw that the apartment had been thoroughly wrecked. I’d seen searches the chief led before, and they had never looked like this.

“Hang on a second,” I said. “I need to make a call before we go in.”

As much as I hated admitting to the chief that I was investigating Peter’s murder, this was too important to pass up. I dialed his direct number, something I had because of his relationship with my mother, not as some kind of special favor to me.

“Martin,” he said. “Make it quick. I’m about to go into a meeting.”

“It’s Suzanne Hart,” I said. “You searched Peter Morgan’s apartment earlier, right?”

There was no happiness in his voice as he answered. “Suzanne, I swear, if you’re meddling in another one of my murder investigations, I’ll lock you up.”

“Do you really think Momma would stand for that?” I asked as sweetly as I could manage.

I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he immediately backed down. “Make it quick. What do you want?”

“Grace and I came by his place to get something of hers that Peter had. It’s all perfectly innocent,” I explained. “When the manager opened the door, we discovered that his apartment was a wreck. You’re usually neater than that when you search a place, aren’t you?”

He hesitated for a moment, and then admitted, “When I left it, everything was as neat as a pin. How bad was the place tossed?”

I looked around the room again and said, “If whoever did it didn’t find what they were looking for, it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

He said, “Both rooms?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t been in the bedroom.”

“Don’t go back there,” he shouted loud enough to hurt my ears. “I’ll get a patrol officer in town to check it out. Hang on a second.”

I put my hand over the phone and told Rose softly, “Close the door.”

She did as I asked, and as we moved away from Peter’s apartment, Chief Martin asked, “Are you there?”

“We’re outside now,” I said.

“Stay there. An officer named Trout will be right there. He searched the place with me earlier. Call me back after he’s gone.”

I was about to agree when he hung up on me.

“What happens now?” Rose asked. She didn’t seem on edge at all, as though this were a regular part of her duties.

“We wait,” I said simply.

It wasn’t long, though. Less than four minutes later, an officer arrived.

“I’m Trout,” he said. “Chief Martin’s already apprised me of the situation.” He tried the door, but it had locked itself automatically. “Keys,” he commanded, and Rose opened the door for him before stepping back.

Trout went in with his gun out, was gone maybe ninety seconds, and then came back and rejoined us. “It’s all clear. Nobody’s there.”

“Thanks for checking,” I said.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t be back,” he added. “Want me to stick around?”

“No thanks, we’ll be fine on our own,” I said. There was no way I wanted a cop there watching us while Grace and I searched the place ourselves.

“Fine then,” he said, and I swear he saluted us with two fingers to the brim of his hat before he drove off.

Rose said, “My, that was certainly exciting.” She looked at me and added, “You must have a great deal of influence with the police. Is it because of the donut shop?”

“I don’t follow,” I said, though I knew full well what she was implying. I hated the “cop and donut love” stereotype as much as the police did. Officers like Stephen Grant were always welcome in my place, and I was happy he wasn’t afraid of the stereotype.

Rose looked at me a little oddly. “You know, it’s like the old joke that the safest place to be when there’s trouble is at a donut shop, because that’s where all of the cops hang out.”

I didn’t want to tell her that I’d been robbed myself, so I gave her my weakest smile, and then dismissed it.

As we reentered the apartment, I looked around and said, “We’re going to need boxes in order to do this properly.”

“I have some downstairs in the storage area,” she admitted.

“Well, if you go get them, we can get started.”

Rose looked reluctant to leave us, but she soon realized that I was right. “I’ll be back in two shakes.”

After she was gone, I looked at Grace and said, “We’ve got maybe four minutes before she’s back. If Peter was hiding something incriminating that he didn’t want anyone else to find, where would it be? I mean, a place that hasn’t already been tossed.”

Grace frowned for a moment, and then smiled with determination. “I’m not sure if we’ll find anything, but I’ve got an idea.”

As she walked into the kitchenette, I had to wonder what could be hidden there that hadn’t already been searched. Boxes of cereal were opened and spread out on the countertop, and sugar and flour were both in the sink where the containers had been emptied.

Grace ignored all that, though. She went directly to the oven, though the door itself was open, as well as the storage area beneath.

Instead of searching one of the places that had already clearly been inspected, she reached up under the overhead hood and removed the filter.

Something fell out as she did, and I caught it just before it could hit the cooktop.

FRIED APPLE RAISIN DONUTS

We enjoy these donuts two times a year in particular, in the autumn when the apples are harvested, and again around the holiday season. They go perfectly with that cup of eggnog, and as an added bonus, they’re fairly easy to make. Sometimes we substitute dried cranberries for the raisins, giving them a more festive, and slightly exotic, taste.

INGREDIENTS

MIXED

1 package quick-rise yeast, ¼ oz.

½ cup whole milk, warmed

½ teaspoon sugar, white granulated

SIFTED

1 cup flour, unbleached all-purpose

1 tablespoon sugar, white granulated

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¼ teaspoon nutmeg

A dash of salt

EXTRAS

½ cup diced and peeled apples, Granny Smith

½ cup raisins or dried cranberries

INSTRUCTIONS

Add the yeast and sugar to the warmed milk, then stir together until dissolved. Let it stand as you sift together the flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Add the yeast/milk mix to the dry ingredients, then once blended together, add the diced apples and raisins/cranberries. Knead the dough on a lightly floured board 4–8 minutes, until the dough bounces back at the touch.

Spray a bowl with nonstick cooking spray, then cover and put the dough in a warm place until doubled, about an hour.

Roll the dough out on a lightly floured surface ¼- to ½- inch thick, then cut out donuts and holes with handheld cutter.

Fry the dough in hot canola or peanut oil (370 degrees F) for two to three minutes on each side.

Drain, then top with powdered sugar immediately or eat as they are.

Yield: 8–12 small donuts.

CHAPTER 9

I examined what I’d caught, and saw that it was a carefully wrapped packet. As I studied it, I had to wonder how it could fit between the fan and the filter. Then I noticed that Peter had removed the fan blades entirely, so that the motor would still turn, giving it the illusion of working properly, but no air would be circulated.

What was so important that he had to go to that measure to hide it?

“How did you know about this?”

“Peter always bragged about how clever he was. In a way, he told me himself.”

“I don’t follow,” I said.

“He once said in passing that if he ever had anything he wanted to protect, he’d give it to his biggest fan. After he said it, he laughed more than he should have, and it sort of stuck with me.”

“You are a clever woman, have I told you that lately?” I asked. I started to open the packet when Grace asked, “May I?”

“Of course,” I said. It was a small enough consolation. I figured Grace had a better reason than I did to be curious about what Peter had been up to, and she had the right to discover first what he had hidden so carefully.

As she opened the packet, I watched over her shoulder to see what might be there.

The first thing I saw was a wad of hundred-dollar bills, banded tightly together.

“How much is there?” I asked.

Grace thumbed through the bills. “It looks like three grand in cash.”

“Why would someone hide that kind of money in a kitchen?”

“It could be that he didn’t like to have all of his money tied up in banks,” Grace said.

“Maybe,” I replied, though I doubted that had been the real reason. More likely it was getaway money, but I was going to keep that to myself for now. “What else is in there?”

She took out the folded document, and at first I thought it might be a letter, but as Grace opened it, I read over her shoulder and saw that it was something completely different.

It was simply a list.

*   *   *

“Is that all there is?” I asked.

Grace shrugged, so I picked up the wrapping to make sure we hadn’t missed anything. Sure enough, stuck to the bottom of a piece of tape was a small, stubby key. I finally worked it free, and I held it up in the air to study it a little closer. “We’ve got a key.”

Grace looked up, clearly surprised. “Where was that hiding?”

“It was in the packet, but the more important question is, where’s the lock it opens?” I studied the small key. It had a black plastic grip, and printed on it was the word “WINGATE,” along with a number, 282.

Grace took one look at it and said, “It’s the key to a safe.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I used to have one myself,” she admitted.

“A key or a safe?”

She shrugged briefly. “Both, I suppose.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well,” Grace said with the flash of a smile. “I don’t tell you
everything
about me.”

“What happened to the safe?” I asked. “Do you still have it?”

“Sure, it’s still at the house, but I stopped using it. As a matter of fact, I emptied it out years ago,” she admitted. “I didn’t feel good having my valuables at the house. I figured my bank account came with a free safe-deposit box, so why not use it?”

I looked around. “Well, clearly Peter didn’t feel that way. Do you think whoever searched the place found his safe, but not the key?”

“If they did, they wouldn’t necessarily need a key to open it. The safes these keys fit are small, and I’m willing to bet that they aren’t impossible to break into without a key, if you’re motivated enough.”

I looked around at the wrecked apartment. “I can’t imagine that whoever did this tore the place up looking for a key. I’ve got a feeling that the safe is still here.”

I was interrupted by someone at the door, and then I heard Rose come in with the boxes she’d promised to retrieve. I’d forgotten all about her!

Grace made the money and the letter disappear, and I slipped the key into my pocket.

Rose spied the filter lying on the stovetop, and then looked up at the vent. “What happened here?”

“I’m guessing the fan’s broken,” I said, stating the obvious. “Can you believe it?”

Rose looked at it carefully. “This was done intentionally.”

“Well, we didn’t do it,” I said. “We saw that the filter was loose, and when we tried to put it back in place, it just fell onto the stovetop.” That was a big fat lie, but I wasn’t about to admit to Rose what we’d just found.

She considered it for a moment, and then shrugged. “Well, I hate to do it, but it has to be fixed. I’m going to have to take the cost of repair out of Peter’s security deposit.” Rose looked around, and then added, “You didn’t make much progress while I was gone, did you?”

“We needed the boxes, remember?” I asked as I took one from her. “We can all get started now. Thanks.”

“Thank you,” Rose said. “I’m sorry if I snapped at you earlier. This is all a little too much to take, and I’m more on edge than I realized.”

“I’m just glad we were here to help,” I said.

As we worked to gather Peter’s things together and box them, Grace and I kept searching for something else of importance, including the missing safe, but if anything important or significant was there, we missed it. Nor did I believe that Rose had found anything. I’d made it a point to keep an eye on her, just in case she stumbled onto something that could help us solve Peter’s murder, but she didn’t have any more luck than we did. As we all worked, I was dying to see the list Peter had hidden so carefully, but that was going to have to wait until Grace and I were alone. In a depressingly short period of time, we had Peter’s things boxed up and ready for his brother. We’d filled several trash bags as well with the flotsam and jetsam we all seem to accumulate in our lives, and we set these out in front of the apartment, to be hauled to the Dumpster.