place up. George implied that you're interested in more than just cleaning, but I'm warning you now, you mustn't take anything. Do you understand?"
"I'm not a thief," I said.
"I'm not saying you are, but my name is on the line, and so is George's reputation."
"You can trust me," she said.
"Good. Let's get to work then."
I made my way down the hallway of the small brick ranch and found what had to be the master bedroom. I wasn't even sure why we were there. It was the neatest place I'd ever been in, including the house Momma and I shared.
Then I realized that this was his transition place. He'd had to have somewhere to go after leaving Rita and before taking up with Deb, though it might just be a refuge from his mistress's moth room.
As I dusted the dresser top, I peeked behind me and started pulling out drawers. Socks were neatly paired, and underwear carefully folded. I tried my best not to disturb anything as I searched, but it was frustrating not finding anything of value or interest to me. It might as well have been a hotel room.
I'd just closed one of the bottom drawers when I heard soft footsteps on the hardwood floor behind me. Without a moment's hesitation, I dropped to one knee and started running my cloth over the dresser's molding.
"Very good," Mary said. I was just glad there wasn't carpet in the house. There was no way I'd have been able to hear her checking up on me then. "Do you need anything?"
"No, ma'am, I'm fine," I said.
She nodded curtly, and then went back to her own work.
I kept cleaning the room as I searched it, though there wasn't that much dust there to begin with. I'd about given up when something fluttered out of the nightstand as I closed the drawer.
It was a receipt for a bank account withdrawal, showing Patrick had taken ten thousand dollars out of his account on the day he'd been murdered. What on earth could that mean? No one had mentioned finding that much cash, not that Chief Martin would run to me and tell me that he had. But I had to guess that George would have heard something about it at the police station, so I was going to assume that the money hadn't shown up. Was it possible it was here, in his house? I'd have to look harder for it, just in case. What other secrets had Patrick been hiding?
Looking in the drawer for something else that might tell me where the money had gone, I stumbled across a parking ticket from the April Springs Police Department, but then I noticed something odd about it.
Nothing had been filled out on the front. The spaces for the name, the driver's license number, the address, and other information were all blank. I flipped the ticket over and found a time and date printed on the back: "7:00, 3/03." The seven had a slash through it, something I'd been seeing more and more lately around town. It was for a week before the murder occurred, but I had to wonder if there wasn't some significance to it. Its presence made me dig deeper around the room, but if he'd hidden the money in his bedroom, I wasn't able to find it.
I was still searching the place when Mary came in. She looked around the bedroom, then said, "It looks good enough. We need to go."
There were still nooks and crannies I hadn't searched yet. How much room would it take to hide ten thousand dollars? "I'm not finished, though."
"Sorry, but I need to get going. One of my clients had a grapefruit-spill emergency, and I've got to get over there pronto."
"I don't mind staying behind," I said. There were other parts of the house I wanted to explore.
"Sorry, I can't do that, even if you are a friend of George's. Let's go."
I reluctantly let her lead me out of the house, then said, "You can call me when you come back here, and I'll be glad to help."
"That won't be necessary, but thanks for the offer."
I was standing near the front door as she drove off. I wasn't finished with Patrick Blaine's house, but still, I'd found a few things that might be significant. For now, that would have to do.
I headed back to the donut shop where I belonged, and hopefully I'd have more time to think about what I'd uncovered.
When I got back to the shop, it was empty, except for Emma and her mother. "Hi, Eileen. Thanks for filling in on such short notice. I've got it covered now."
"It was my pleasure. Are you sure you don't need me for the rest of the day? Emma and I have been having the nicest chat."
"Between customers," Emma said quickly. "We've been busy most of the morning."
"Of course we have," Eileen said. "Suzanne knows that."
One glance at the display cases showed me that they'd done well enough in my absence. "I do." I reached into the cash drawer and pulled out a twenty. "Is this enough?" I asked as I handed it to her.
"Honestly, I can't take that," she said. "It was too much fun to charge you for it."
I shrugged. "Then how about two dozen donuts? Your choice."
"That I'll do," she said. As I started boxing them for her, Eileen said, "Won't your father be surprised when I bring these by the paper?"
"He'll be surprised, all right," Emma said. According to my assistant, Eileen's visits to her husband's newspaper office had elicited a long list of negative comments in the past from him, but it appeared that she considered the donut delivery acceptable.
As soon as she left, Emma dove for the phone. "Dad, Mom's on her way over with two dozen donuts. Act surprised, she earned them helping me out today. Love you, too."
"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.
"No, he just hates to be caught off guard. It'll be fine," Emma said. "Did you find anything at Patrick's house? You weren't gone long."
"I was dismissed," I said, not wanting to share the information I'd found with her. I was still trying to keep Emma out of my impromptu investigation as much as I could.
"You got fired?"
"No, she had another emergency job across
town," I explained. "Now, let's get busy on the dishes while we're slow."
"I'm on it," she said, and disappeared back into the kitchen.
The lull didn't last for long, and a steady trickle of professional folks, mothers with kids in school, and retirees started trickling in soon after I got back.
When the front door opened a little after ten, I was surprised to see Gail and Tina come in, two regulars who were widows and now roommates. Their children had left long ago, and the two women had grown tired of living alone, though I wasn't sure their current arrangement was much better.
"Ladies, I thought you were on a cruise."
Gail, a rail-thin woman with straight black hair, said, "We were, but the captain threw us off the boat."
Tina, short and round and all kinds of soft, said, "It was a ship, and we didn't get thrown off. You'd rather lie than tell the truth, wouldn't you?"
"Don't listen to her, Suzanne. What I said was all true," Gail said as she ordered a cup of coffee and an apple fritter.
"The ship ran aground," Tina said. "Everyone had to leave, not just us. You keep making it sound like we were singled out for bad behavior or something."
"Oh, my, that sounds dreadful," I said as I got Tina three donuts and a cup of whole milk.
Gail said, "Actually, it was quite fun. I've never been on a life raft before. It felt like we were in a Hitchcock movie."
"It was nothing like that," Tina said. "We were twenty feet from shore, and everything was rather mundane."
"Mundane?" Gail asked. "How about the man who had a heart attack?"
"It wasn't a heart attack, it was a panic attack, and as soon as he breathed into a paper bag, he was fine. I do wish you wouldn't embellish the truth so much."
Gail frowned. "It's not lying. I'm just telling the story from my own perspective."
"From wherever that is," Tina said.
After they were settled onto one of the couches, I was restocking some of the trays in the display when Grace walked in.
"I just got your message," she said, looking more frazzled than I'd ever seen her. "My voice mail's messed up. Why didn't you keep calling me until I answered?"
"I'm fine," I said, "and would you mind lowering your voice?" We were attracting quite a bit of attention, and not the good kind.
"Sorry," she said. "I'd kill for a cup of coffee. I'm sorry about that, as well. Not the best choice of words, was it?"
I put a full mug in front of her, and after she greedily drank some down, she said, "Tell me what happened."
"Vicki came by on her way out of town this morning, but she didn't think Rita or Deb had anything to do with the murder. She was pretty suspicious of the two businesses Blaine was dealing with, though."
"Good. So after work today, we go see them."
"Are you sure you want to keep digging into this with me?"
Grace looked surprised by my question. "I told
you that as long as you're doing this, I'm right beside you. You're not having a change of heart, are you?"
"It's not that," I said. "I just seem to be attracting a lot of attention from the police lately."
"Who said something, the chief? Come on, he's had you in his sights for years."
"Actually, Jake Bishop came by the house last night."
That got her attention. "Was it for business, or pleasure?"
"What are you talking about?"
Grace shook her head. "Come on, don't be coy with me. You like him, don't you? I can hear that hitch in your throat when you talk about him."
I threw my dishtowel down on the counter. "He's done nothing but aggravate me since he came onto the scene."
Grace waved a hand in the air. "You can protest all you want, but I know I'm not imagining it."
"That's nonsense," I said, but was it? Did Grace see something in me I wasn't ready to acknowledge to myself, or admit to the world? He was a handsome man, there was no denying that.
She asked, "So, how did you leave things with him? I'm not foolish enough to think you kissed him good night, but was there at least a lingering goodbye at the door?"
"No, Max picked the worst time in the world to show up on my doorstep, and Jake rushed off as soon as my ex showed up."
"What did he want?" Grace asked. She wasn't a big fan of my ex-husband, and clearly wasn't afraid who knew it.
"Believe it or not, I think he wants to get back together with me."
Grace frowned. "You aren't going to, are you? Please tell me you didn't promise him anything."
"If you want to know the truth, I threw him out," I said.
"Good for you."
"Grace, he made a mistake, and he's asked me for my forgiveness."
She shook her head.
I asked, "What?"
"Just because he asks for your forgiveness doesn't mean you have to give it."
I sighed. "I know you're right, but I can't keep holding this grudge forever. It's not healthy."
"Forgive him if you want to, but I was the one who was there helping you pick up the pieces of your life, remember? Don't try to tell me he's suddenly repentant about the affair, because I don't believe it." Grace threw a ten onto the counter, and I noticed that we'd amassed quite an audience.
I didn't care. "Hey," I called out, "are we okay?"
She waved. "We're fine. I just need some air."
"Call me later," I said.
She nodded absently, and then walked away without a single look back.
SOUTHERN PEACH COBBLER
My family clamors for peach cobbler all year long, and when peaches are in season, I like them the best. But canned peaches make a great cobbler, too, so over the years, I've developed this recipe using what I can find on the grocer's shelf. This one's a real hit at home, and it has the added benefit of being really easy to make!
INGREDIENTS
1 stick butter (1/2 cup)
11/2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup flour
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon cinnamon
11/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup milk (2% or whole)
1 can (29 oz.) sliced peaches in heavy syrup,
drained, keeping 3/4 cup of the syrup
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Melt the butter, then pour it into the bottom of a 9 by 13 casserole dish. Set aside 1/2 cup sugar and all of the cinnamon, then separate the peaches from the syrup, keeping the syrup in another container for use later.
Mix the remaining 1 cup sugar and the other dry ingredients together in a bowl, then stir in the milk and the heavy syrup from the peaches. Next, put the peaches in bottom of the dish on top of the melted butter. Pour the batter over the top of the peaches.
Mix the cinnamon and the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar and sprinkle that over the top of the mixture.
Bake this at 350 degrees for about 1 hour, or until the top crust is golden brown and has pulled away slightly from the sides of the dish.
Serves 6-8
CHAPTER 7
"Don't worry, she'll be back," Tina said from her vantage point as Grace disappeared.
"You don't know that," Gail said. "She may never set foot in here again."
"Are you helping or hurting, Gail, helping or hurting?"
"I do wish you'd stop saying that, Tina," her friend said. "It really aggravates me, and it annoys everyone else, too."
"All I'm saying is that you should ask yourself that question before you say something that might hurt someone else's feelings."
Gail stood abruptly. "I don't have to take this, you know."
