"That's not the point," I said. "I don't like being watched by the police."
"Then maybe you shouldn't interfere with our business," he replied, so sweetly that sugar wouldn't melt in his mouth.
My mother came back in, holding a piece of cobbler at least twice the size of the one she'd given me.
After Jake took it, she said, "We have coffee, or cold milk if you'd prefer."
"Milk would be fine," he said.
As Momma disappeared yet again, I said quietly, "There's something I need to tell you. I don't approve of you."
"Your mother doesn't seem to mind." He took a bite of cobbler and whistled. "Did you make this?"
My baking pride was at stake, and while I probably couldn't replicate my mother's cobbler perfectly, I knew that I could come close. "No, but I could have, if I'd wanted to."
He looked at me with more than a hint of skepticism.
"I can," I insisted.
"Can what, dear?" Momma asked as she rejoined us with Jake's milk.
"I can make a cobbler every bit as good as yours," I said.
"Of course you can," my mother said, with just enough hesitation to condemn the statement as a lie.
I was about to protest when she added, "Now I'll leave you two young people alone so you can get better acquainted."
"Momma, I don't care if you stay or go. This isn't a date."
"Of course it isn't," she said with that same hitch in her words.
She was gone before I could stop her, and I found myself alone with Inspector Bishop.
What on earth had I gotten myself into? "No matter what my mother may think, I'm fine just the way I am."
Jake took a bite of cobbler, then said, "Were you under the impression I thought otherwise?"
"I'm happier divorced than I was when I was married," I said, not sure if that was true or not. "I don't need a man to complete me, and I don't have to have one in my life to have fun. I'm doing fine."
"I'm not here to discuss your love life," he said. "If I were, this conversation would have started out on a completely different foot. Who knows what might happen after we solve this homicide, though. But at least for now, we need to keep things strictly professional."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," I said. Somehow he'd turned my words around into something else entirely.
"Good, I'm glad we cleared that up. Suzanne, as a police officer, I can't stress how important it is that you stay out of this investigation. You are making things harder by butting in where you have no business being."
"Are you scolding me, Inspector?"
"What happened to calling me Jake?"
I was going to let that go. "I'm beginning to feel like I've got a target on my back, and I'm not sure you or Chief Martin are doing anything to alleviate that fear. I have a right to find out what's going on."
He put the plate down. Despite our bantering, it appeared that I'd tweaked something in him with that one. "You want to talk about rights? You're running around town doing more harm than good to an official inquiry, and then have the nerve to sit there and crow about it? I was right the first time."
"About what?"
"I should have locked you up on the spot the second I found out what you were doing," he said.
"That's the only way I'm going to stop, so you might as well," I said.
"Suzanne, have you ever listened to anyone in your entire life?"
"I do when they make sense. You people didn't even talk to Patrick Blaine's ex-wife, or his new girlfriend. That doesn't exactly give me much confidence in your abilities."
"You're not in a position to judge our competence, are you?" I had definitely crossed the line with that last crack. A vein I'd never noticed before started pulsing on his forehead, and his face was beginning to darken.
I was about to try to ease my hard stand when there was a knock at the front door.
It was the last person I wanted to see there, but then again, I hadn't gotten to choose.
"Max, I'm busy," I said as I saw my ex-husband at the door.
"So am I," he said. "I need to see you, anyway."
"I've got company," I said, hoping he'd get the hint and go away.
"Then I'll wait until you're through," he said as he took up a seat on the front steps of the house.
Jake shook his head, then he said to me, "You might as well let him in. We're not getting anywhere, are we?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't mean to be a thorn in your side, I really don't. I just think there's more going on here than you realize."
"Funny, that's the same thing I was getting ready to say to you."
"So, can we agree to disagree on this?"
He looked at me intently, and I felt myself getting swept up in his eyes, no matter how much I'd protested that he didn't have any effect on me. "Suzanne, if you keep digging into this, I can't guarantee your safety."
"Nobody's ever been able to do that," I said, "but I promise I'll be careful."
"I hope so."
As he left, I saw Max glare at him, but if Jake noticed, he didn't respond.
"What do you want?" I asked my ex-husband as Jake Bishop drove away.
"I didn't know you were dating again," Max said sullenly.
"That wasn't a date."
Passing me, he stepped inside and spotted Jake's empty plate. "If he got your mother's cobbler, she must think so."
"What she thinks doesn't really matter at this point."
Max frowned at me. "You shouldn't be seeing him. He's trouble."
I laughed out loud, but there wasn't an ounce of joy in it. "That's rich, coming from you. Max, you should wear a warning label so women will know to be careful around you. I'm thinking something like a radiation sign, or even worse."
"I made one mistake, and that's in the past," he said. "You've got to let it go, Suzanne. How else are we going to move on?"
"In case you haven't noticed, I already have."
"Have you forgotten this?" he asked as he took a step toward me. I swear, I could feel the heat coming off him, and for an instant, I wanted to kiss him more than anything else in the world.
But that would be exactly the wrong thing to do, and I knew it.
I took a step back, tripped on the coffee table, and nearly fell before I righted myself. So much for dignity and grace, but at least it broke the tension in the air.
"Good night, Max. It's late, and I've got to get up early tomorrow."
"Time to make the donuts, right?"
"It's a steady income; I'm my own boss; and I meet a lot of interesting people. What more can you ask?"
"You used to want to be an artist, remember?" he said softly. "What ever happened to those dreams?"
"I still paint now and then," I said. "Besides, there's art in everything done well, and I'm great at what I do, despite what you might think."
He held his palms up toward me. "Don't get me wrong, I know feeding people is noble and all that, but how creative do you have to be to make donuts every morning?"
"Max, you're showing your ignorance. Have you ever made a pinecone out of dough, or a fritter? Have you twisted a cinnamon stick, or built a honey bun by hand? I use my artistic skills every day, and if you don't see it, that's your problem, not mine. Now go. I'm too tired to keep arguing with you."
I could see in his eyes that his visit had taken a
wrong turn somewhere, interfering with what he'd been hoping to accomplish, but we weren't married anymore, and the time when I was supposed to make everything right was long past. Max was just going to have to deal with it.
"Good night," he said gently, and I felt my pique with him suddenly fade away.
" 'Night," I said, as I closed the door and dead-bolted it behind him.
Momma came out of the other room, and said, "That was the oddest thing."
"What's that?"
"I know you were talking to the police inspector, but then I could swear I heard Max's voice." She looked outside just as Max drove away. "What did he want, and where did Mr. Bishop go?"
"The inspector and I had a disagreement, so he left just as Max arrived."
Momma gave me that curt, disappointed look that I'd earned so often as a child. Well, I wasn't a child anymore. She asked pointedly, "What did you say to him, Suzanne?"
It was time to tell her what I was up to. "I told him I wasn't going to stop digging into Patrick Blaine's murder. I'm not going to sit around and wait for something to happen. I have to tackle this myself."
"Suzanne, it sounds so dangerous."
"I'm being careful, Momma."
She decided to let that go, at least for now. "That explains his absence, but why on earth did Max come by?"
I bit my lower lip, then said, "Do you want to know the truth? I think he was jealous." It was a
revelation to me, but I don't think I surprised my mother at all.
"Why shouldn't he be? Max had his chance with you, and he threw it away on a cheap imitation. Now that there's a new man in your life, he clearly sees the error of his ways."
"Momma, there are so many things wrong with that statement that I don't even know where to start. Jake isn't in my life, at least not the way you mean, and if Max is having regrets, that's nobody's business but his own. As I told both of them, I'm happy with my single status. Having a man in my life just complicates things too much."
Momma smiled. "But think of how much fun they add to the party."
"If you feel that way, why don't you find someone new yourself? Dad's been gone for quite a while."
She looked sad for a moment, then Momma said, "There hasn't been a man born who could compete with your late father."
"Momma, I was almost as big a fan of Dad's as you were, but that doesn't mean you had to die when he did."
She wanted to speak, I could see it in her eyes, but instead, she said, "It's late, and you have to get up early tomorrow."
I could tell there was no way she wanted to talk tonight, and honestly, I was out of things to say myself.
Instead, I kissed her forehead, then said, "Good night, Momma. I love you."
"I love you, too," she said.
I lay in bed half an hour wondering exactly what
had happened that evening. There was a definite vibe between Jake and me, a tingling I hadn't felt in a very long time. Then again, Max wasn't just going away, no matter how much I wanted it. Or did I? It was all too confusing.
I needed to quit thinking about my love life--or complete lack of it--and focus on the task at hand; figure out who had killed Patrick Blaine and dumped his body in front of my shop, and more importantly, do it before the killer decided to come after me.
My alarm clock went off half an hour earlier than normal, and for an instant, I wanted to hit the snooze button and capture a few more minutes before I had to get up. Then I remembered my early-morning meeting with Vicki Houser on her way out of town, and I managed to drag myself out of bed. I'd debated telling Jake about it the night before, but his scolding had killed that idea. I couldn't very well ask him to watch my back while I was going against his express wishes. Hopefully, either Grace or Emma would show up and I'd be fine.
If not, I'd confront her by myself. Just because I'd met Vicki Houser didn't mean I was going to be reckless while I was around her. If she'd killed Patrick Blaine and thought I had any idea of it, I had no doubt she'd get rid of me, as well.
And I was going to make sure she never got the chance.
There was a moving van parked in front of Donut Hearts when I got there, and I felt my hands shaking as I started to get out of the Jeep. At the last second,
on nothing more than impulse, I took the envelope I'd prepared the night before and shoved it under my car seat.
The van was dark, but I could see a figure inside behind the steering wheel.
I tapped on the window, trying to get Vicki's attention.
For a second, I thought she was dead. I was troubled to realize that the first thing that went through my mind was that someone had killed her in front of my shop to make the police suspicious of me, instead of worrying about her well-being.
She awoke with a start, then rubbed her eyes as she opened the door and got out. "Sorry, I hadn't planned on falling asleep. It was a long day yesterday, and I nearly killed myself taking care of everything."
"Don't apologize. I know how tough early mornings can be. Come on in. I'll start a pot of coffee, and it will be ready in a jiff."
She looked at her watch. "I don't know. I'm getting a late start as it is."
"One cup, that's all I'm offering," I said. Where on earth were Emma and Grace? I'd been counting on at least one of them backing me up, but it looked like I was on my own. So be it. I'd stall Vicki with the coffee, and while it was brewing, I'd ask her about her relationship with her boss, and what was driving her out of April Springs in the middle of the night.
"I suppose it's all right," she said.
She followed me inside, and I flipped on the lights for Donut Hearts. I wanted the world to know that
someone was there with me, and if something happened to me, a car driving past might remember the parked moving van.
"I'm surprised you're leaving town so suddenly," I said as I turned the coffeepot on.
"It was a long time coming," she said, as she stifled a yawn. "Losing Mr. Blaine was just the final push."
"I understand you two were close," I said, trying to keep my tone light.
Vicki shook her head sadly. "It didn't take long for the gossips to dig their claws into me, did it? What did you hear, that Mr. Blaine and I were having some kind of torrid affair? Am I a spurned lover in the rumor mill?"
