Killer Crullers by Jessica Beck Page B

stuck it into my pocket without saying a word to Grace. As much as I wanted her to see it, I’d already squelched one of her finds, so I couldn’t very well point my first one out to her.
    The rest of the drawers of the bureau had nothing of real interest, and I moved on to Desmond’s closet. Inside it, besides hanging shirts, pants, jackets, and shoes, I found a small accordion file. That looked promising, so I pulled it out and started quickly scanning through the documents. Most were mundane things like old tax forms, clothing bills, and the like, but something caught my eye, so I pulled out the crumpled business envelope that had been uncharacteristically jammed into the folder.
    It was a pretty sternly worded letter basically threatening Desmond with legal action if he didn’t repay the funds his partner believed he’d stolen from their joint venture. The letter had obviously been wadded up at some point, though someone, most likely Desmond, had done his best to straighten it back out again later. I added the letter to the photo in my pocket, and then started transferring clothing into the boxes. “We’re going to run out of boxes at this rate,” I said.
    “I won’t be adding anything to the pile,” she said. “The desk is full of mostly junk that isn’t going to do any of us a bit of good.”
    “Is there anything of sentimental value in there?” I asked. I wanted to be able to hand something over to Jean.
    “I found some birthday cards from her to Desmond, and a few notes. Nothing major, but they might mean something to her.”
    “Probably more than we realize,” I said. “The closet’s nearly empty, and I already finished with his dresser. How can you go through life and not collect more things than this?”
    “Some folks aren’t the packrats we are,” she said.
    “I can’t imagine not surrounding myself with things I love, or that remind me of good times I’ve had.”
    Grace nodded. “I’m with you. Let me give you a hand with what’s left, and we can get out of here.”
    We were both in the closet when the bedroom door opened, and before either one of us could turn around, a shrill voice asked, “What do you two think you are doing?”
    *   *   *
    “Hello,” I said as I backed out, with Grace close behind me. “You must be Jenny. We’re so sorry for your loss.” It was the same mousy brunette I’d seen in the photograph in the living room. I extended a hand to her, but she ignored it.
    “Your donuts aren’t going to cut any slack from me. I told Aunt Jean she was crazy to let you in here without someone watching you the entire time.”
    “Did you think we were going to take Desmond’s socks, perhaps?” Grace asked, the bite clear in her voice.
    “Who knows what you have in your pockets. I demand to see everything you both found here.”
    I refused to comply with that. “I’m going to try to forgive your rudeness given the circumstances, but we are here doing a favor for a friend, and I don’t appreciate the line of questioning or the tone in your voice.”
    Jenny seemed to consider that before blowing up again, and then to my surprise, she crumpled onto the bed, barely able to hold herself erect. “I’m sorry. I know I can be a bit of a pain when I’m stressed, and if this wouldn’t push me to my limit, nothing would.”
    “Were you and Desmond close?” I asked. I thought I knew the answer, but I wanted to see what she had to say about it.
    “As kids we were inseparable, but people tend to drift apart as they get older.”
    “He and your aunt were close, weren’t they?” Grace asked.
    Jenny looked surprised by the question. “Absolutely. She grew to depend on Desmond more and more every day. I wasn’t sure it was entirely healthy for either one of them, but then no one asked me. Now that he’s gone, it’s up to me to step in and take his place.”
    “It’s a lot to ask, giving up your life to come here,” I said as sympathetically as I could muster