Sugar Coated Sins by Jessica Beck Page A

door to our public, I was
surprised to see Ray Blake standing outside.
    When I let him in, I asked, “Do
you need to see Emma?”
    “No, I’m here for you,” Ray
said.   “I might have been a little hasty
yesterday.   If you’d still like to share
information with me, I promise that I won’t print any of it without your
permission.”
    “Thanks, but if it’s all the same
to you, I think I’ll pass,” I said.   “Ray, I hate to think you got up this early just for me.   Can I get you a donut?   It’s on the house.”   I’d thought about my earlier request to ask
Ray for information, and in the end, I was glad that he’d turned me down.   The man wasn’t just a thorn in my side; he
was also a pain to local law enforcement, which now included my husband.   I was probably being a little pigheaded, but
there was nothing I could do about it.
    “Suzanne, don’t be that way.   I was a little giddy having the upper hand
for once, and I let it go to my head.”
    “No worries, Ray.”   I gave him a plain glazed donut, one of the
round ones, as Emma came out.
    “I thought I heard a familiar
voice,” she said.   “Hey, Dad.   What are you doing here?”
    “I came to have a chat with
Suzanne.”
    “I told you last night that wasn’t
a good idea,” Emma said sternly.
    “Need I remind you that I’m your
father?” Ray said.   “I’m not obligated to
take your advice, young lady.”
    “You might not be, but you
should,” she said.   “Bye, Dad.”
    “I’m not going anywhere.   I’ve got a donut, see?”
    Emma reached out, plucked it off
his plate, and then shoved it into a bag.   “And now it’s to go.”
    Ray frowned at the offered bag and
then at his daughter.   He was about to
say something when she added, “Don’t.”
    Ray took a moment to think about
it, shrugged, and then he left.
    “Suzanne, I’m so sorry.   Dad told me what happened yesterday, and when
he shared his plans with me for this morning, I did everything I could to talk
him out of it.   I told him that when you
made up your mind about something, it was tough to get you to change it.”
    “Am I really that stubborn?” I
asked.
    “Not about everything, but I knew
what it must have taken for you to go to my father for help, and when he
started putting conditions on his cooperation, I realized that he’d be wasting
his breath trying to get another shot at you.”
    “Well, you’re not wrong about
that,” I said.   “No offense.”
    “None taken.   I don’t need my father butting into my life
at work.   I hope you’re not mad at me.”
    “Why should I be?   You tried to be the peacemaker.   No worries, Emma.”
    “Good.”
    After a few moments, I asked her,
“You’re not upset with me, are you?”
    “No way.   Why do you ask?”
    “I just rebuffed your father in
front of you.   That would make some
people angry.”
    “Your relationship with my dad has
nothing to do with our connection,” she said.
    “Okay then.   What say we sell some donuts?”
    “You can.   I’m looking forward to tackling that sink
full of dishes, myself.”
    “Then let’s get started,” I said
as our first real customers started streaming in.

 
    Jan Kerber came in around ten with
an envelope in her hands.
    “Good morning.   What can I get you?” I asked her.
    “No donuts for me, I’m afraid,”
she said as she frowned at my display case.   It was clear that she wanted one, but I wasn’t going to push her on it.
    “What brings you by?”
    “I’m still working on that list
you and Jake asked for,” she said.   “It’s
not as easy as I thought it would be.   All I found in our archives was a grainy photo taken for a newspaper
article Ray Blake published about the time capsule when it was first buried.”
    So, Ray might have been able to
help me after all.   At least I was
getting the information from another source.   “May I see it?”
    “Certainly,” she said as she
handed it over.   “I’ve