Tres Leches & Murder Read online

  “What do you mean?” Amy asked.

  “I mean that I don’t think that my mother can stay on the island without Theodore to take care of her,” said Edward. “I think we’re going to have to seriously discuss moving.”

  “I can’t move now,” Betty said. “We haven’t even had the funeral yet. They’re still investigating the murder.”

  "And hopefully it will all be concluded soon," Edward said. "But we do need to start planning for the future. You need someone to care for you. And I'd like that person to be me. You could move closer to me. I know some wonderful senior living facilities. And even better physical therapy classes. And we could see each other all the time."

  “Let’s discuss this after the killer is caught,” Betty said, firmly.

  “Fine,” Edward said. “But we need to discuss it.”

  “What else do you need to know?” Betty asked, turning her attention back to Heather and Amy.

  “Where were you both at the time of the death?” Heather asked.

  "Eddie took me to physical therapy class that night," Betty said. "So, Teddy could have an evening off. He brought my purse to the car when I forgot it inside the house, he drove me there, and he stayed in the waiting room while I was with my therapist."

  “I wasn’t in the waiting room the whole time,” Edward said. “I was talking with some of the nurses and therapists at the desk for a good long while. They should remember me. I was somewhat displeased with her current plan. Which is another reason why I think the move would be good for her.”

  “Eddie, stop it.”

  “Fine,” he said. “And I also did take a phone call from Theodore. He asked me to pick up some laundry detergent on our way home, which we did.”

  “I had missed a call from him,” Betty said. “While I was waiting for them to take me in the therapy room, he must have called me. Then he called Eddie later to make sure the message got through. I wish I could have heard my phone ring. I would have loved to hear his voice one more time.”

  She started to tear up, and Edward moved closer to her.

  "I think we're done for today. She's been through enough," he said.

  “Just one more question,” said Heather. “Do either of you know the names of the people that Theodore played poker with?”

  "Not most of them," Betty said. "He'd go over to their houses instead of having them at home so I could rest early."

  “And he’d leave you home alone,” Edward grumbled.

  “He left when he knew I’d be sleeping. I have a pendant that I could push in case of an emergency. And I’m not an invalid,” Betty said. “He was allowed to have his own life too. You and Letty certainly did.”

  “But I want to care for you now,” Edward said.

  Betty looked at Heather. “I only know one of the players because he mentioned it when we went to visit Donut Delights. It was a man from the taco place on your block. He was a player. Don.”

  Heather and Amy exchanged a look.

  “Why are we having such troubles with our neighbors?” Amy asked.

  Don’s Denial

  “Look, we said that we don’t support what Mr. Rankle is doing,” Juan said. “But there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “He wouldn’t listen to us,” Don agreed.

  “And we’d rather not wake a sleeping beast if we know it won’t do any good,” said Juan. “But if you’d like a taco, we’d be happy to serve you.”

  “Our new fish ones are really good,” said Don.

  "And maybe we can form some sort of tacos for donuts exchange between us?" Juan suggested. "They were actually very good."

  “That does sound like a good idea,” Heather said. “But it’s something we’re going to have to discuss later. We’ve come here to talk to Don.”

  “To me?”

  “To him?” Juan asked. “Why just him? What’s going on?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Don said. “I have no idea.”

  “We’d like to talk about Theodore Turner,” Heather said.

  “Who?” Juan asked.

  “Yeah,” said Don. “Who?”

  “One of the regulars in your poker group,” said Heather.

  “Don doesn’t play poker,” said Juan.

  “That’s right,” Don agreed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, the man you don’t play poker with was murdered yesterday,” said Amy.

  “Murdered?” asked Don.

  “You don’t know who he is, do you?” Juan asked.

  Don shook his head. “Sorry I can’t be of any help.”

  Heather and Amy left the taco shop more confused than before.

  “Why would Don be lying?” Amy asked. “Could he be the killer?”

  "I don't know," said Heather. "But I think that if we wait around here for a moment, we might find out more."

  Her hunch was correct. A few minutes later, Don quietly snuck out the back door and ran into them.

  “I was heading to your donut shop to find you,” he said.

  “So, you do know Theodore Turner?” asked Heather.

  “Yes,” said Don. “And I can’t believe he’s dead. You think he was murdered?”

  “We know he was murdered,” Amy said. “He was shot in the chest.”

  “Why did you lie about the poker games?” Heather asked.

  “Because of Juan,” Don said, embarrassed. “I didn’t want him to know about the games because I didn’t invite him when they started up.”

  “So you were willing to interfere with a murder investigation because you didn’t want to admit that you didn’t invite someone to a game?” Heather asked.

  "I came to find you right after," Don said. "And yeah. I didn't want to hurt Juan's feelings. He's my best friend. But I needed something for myself. We work together every single day, and we hang out all the time. I wanted one night with some other people. Can you understand that?"

  Heather and Amy looked at each other. They also worked together, solved cases together, and loved hanging out and having movie nights. They shrugged.

  “Where does Juan think you are when you disappear every week?” Amy asked.

  “I made our poker nights on the day his favorite show plays on TV. It’s a wartime fantasy show that he knows I’m not into,” said Don.

  “Who normally hosts the games?” Heather asked.

  "Usually me. And sometimes O'Malley. The other guys were married, and Theodore had his mom, so it was easier to have it at one of our houses."

  “Was there any animosity in the group?” Heather asked.

  "No," Don said. "It was always a friendly game. It never got out of hand."

  “I’ll pardon the pun,” Amy said.

  “I don’t think it could have anything to do with his death,” said Don.

  “Even when people are upset they’re losing money?” asked Amy.

  "But it was never that high stakes a game," he said. "The highest we ever went was a thousand. But usually, it was only a couple hundred between us. It was just about having a night out with the guys to play cards. It wasn't really about winning."

  “And how did everyone in the group get along?” Heather asked.

  “Fine,” said Don. “We might not have been the best of friends, but we liked seeing each other. O’Malley might have had a temper occasionally, but he was a jokester too.”

  “We’d like to talk to him too,” said Heather.

  “I can give you his contact information,” Don said. “But I really don’t think they could have had anything to do with his death.”

  “Where were you last night?” Heather asked.

  "Juan and I went on a double date," said Don. "We went out for drinks after a movie and dinner. It got to be pretty late."

  “Do you know where any of the other poker players were?” asked Heather.

  “Actually, most of them were out of town this week. The married guys’ wives are all friends, and another of their friends was getting married. All of t
hem were at a wedding in Port St. Lucie.”

  “Who wasn’t there?”

  “Just Theodore, me and O’Malley.”

  “Did you and O’Malley know where Theodore Turner lived?” Heather asked.

  “I guess so. Sometimes we’d carpool and have a DD if we felt like having some beer.”

  “Did Theodore ever mention that he had a gun?” asked Heather.

  Don nodded. “It’s come up before. He said he kept it in the kitchen.”

  Heather thought about it. If Don knew where Theodore had kept the gun, then probably everyone in the poker game knew it too.

  “One more question,” Heather said. “Does a straight flush of hearts mean anything to you?”

  “No,” Don said. “But it would be a great hand to have.”

  Rankle Remains

  Heather and Amy walked back to Donut Delights, thinking about everything that they had learned about the case. However, as they got closer to the shop, they were greeted with another unhappy sight.

  Mr. Rankle had enlarged his display of stomach medication and was now offering information on what to do if you discovered signs of food poisoning.

  “Is he serious?” Amy asked.

  “It looks like he didn’t get bored of his sabotage,” Heather said.

  They walked up to Mr. Rankle, who looked perfectly satisfied, sitting at one of his heartburn tables.

  “How’s business?” Amy asked.

  "It's going great," Mr. Rankle said. "There's been an upsurge in sales of these products. Must be the new food that's causing a need."

  “Must be that you’re scaring people into thinking that they need it,” Amy said.

  “Would you like to purchase something?” Mr. Rankle asked.

  “I’d like you to stop this pettiness,” said Heather. “What can we do to get you to put away this display?”

  “You can close up your shop and go back where you can from,” he replied.

  "Don't you think you might be hurting some other businesses on the street beside ours? Maybe some other food places that are owned by people you've deemed locals?"

  Mr. Rankle looked nervous for a moment, but then said, “I don’t believe I am. And I’ll make sure I won’t.”

  "There are locals working at the donut shop," Heather said. "And very excited to be too. If you hurt our business, you're hurting them too."

  “I’m sure they can find a job with the next out-of-state person who plans on trying to take over my block,” said Mr. Rankle. “Now if you’re not going to buy something, please move along.”

  Heather sighed. She pulled her bestie away from the display before she could do anything rash. Then, they both returned to Donut Delights.

  “Tell me Mr. Rankle’s display isn’t really affecting business,” Heather said to her staff.

  “I’m afraid it might be,” Nina said.

  “We still are getting customers,” Luz assured her. “It’s just not as big a gathering as Mr. Rodney had hoped.”

  “But we will survive and overcome,” Digby said with a dramatic hand movement.

  “Mr. Rodney was really mad,” Nina said.

  “He said he was going to go fishing to clear his head,” Luz said. “And based on the terms he used, it’s clear he’s no fisherman. He was thinking about using donuts as bait.”

  “That would catch me,” Amy said.

  “But a donut won’t last in the water for long,” Luz pointed out.

  “Not with me after it,” Amy joked.

  “We’ll have to figure out a way to deal with Mr. Rankle,” Heather said, both for her sake and her investor’s. “The reason he doesn’t like us is because we’re from out of town. Is there any way to overcome that?”

  "I don't know. But we could easily overcome his table by flipping it over," said Amy. "Just saying."

  “Has he even tried any of the donuts?” Digby asked.

  “No,” said Heather. “When we first tried to deliver some to him, he refused.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Nina. “Their taste might win him over.”

  “Maybe I could convince him to try one,” Luz mused.

  “Anything you could do to win Mr. Rankle over to our side would be appreciated,” Heather said. “I feel as stuck in that situation as I do on our case.”

  “Are you really trying to solve a murder?” Nina asked. “That sounds scary.”

  "We have had some close calls before," Heather admitted. "But I wouldn't call our investigations scary. I think it's important work. And we seem to be good at it. We like to make sure that justice is served, and if we can help do so, then we will."

  “We’re really good at it,” Amy amended.

  “How is this case going?” Luz asked. “Was it really a nice customer’s son who was killed?”

  “Yes,” Heather said. “That’s why we’re on the case.”

  “But if you’re on a case, doesn’t that mean that the killer might realize that and come after you?” Nina asked. “Or come after us?”

  Digby hummed some dramatic theme music to accompany her questions.

  "You'll all be fine," Heather assured them. "The problem for you to focus on is Mr. Rankle. If you have any time, in between serving donuts, to come up with a plan, let us know. Now we're going to follow up on a lead for the case."

  “A lead. How exciting,” said Digby.

  Heather wasn’t quite sure whose side to take. Was it exciting that they were going to follow a lead and talk to O’Malley? Or were they putting themselves in danger by talking to a suspected killer?

  A Gamble on O’Malley

  O'Malley opened the door and immediately greeted them with an offer. "Twenty bucks I can guess who you are and why you're here?"

  “No deal,” said Amy. “We called before. You know who we are.”

  “You might have been mailmen or salespeople,” O’Malley said as he admitted them inside. “It was still a little gamble for me. But you are the investigators?”

  “Yes. We’d like to talk to you about Theodore Turner,” said Heather.

  “Of course,” he said, as they sat down at a table. “I heard he had been killed. Want to lay down odds that I can guess what the murder weapon is?”

  “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Heather said. “But I am interested to hear what your guess is.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’d guess a wrench.”

  “Why do you say that?” Heather asked.

  “Like in the board game,” he said. “And I figured he was hit on the head. Someone panicked when he was home and not taking his mother to her doctor and had to act quickly.”

  “You know a lot about his schedule,” said Heather.

  "Everyone who knew him did. His mother was on a tight schedule with her doctors, and he made sure she made every appointment. We almost changed our poker night, but he couldn't because of some doctor thing with his mom. Actually, Don was weird about it too."

  “So, you’re guessing that the killer didn’t mean to kill Theodore Turner?”

  "Why would anyone want to kill him? He was a good guy. Took care of his mom."

  “Never cheated at cards or didn’t pay a debt?” Amy asked.

  “We didn’t play on credit here,” said O’Malley. “It wasn’t big enough stakes. And it was just for fun. Theodore was a good guy. And no, he never cheated.”

  “Somebody was angry enough at him to shoot him in the chest,” Heather said. “There must have been a reason.”

  “Somebody shot him?” O’Malley asked. “I never would have guessed that.”

  “Even though he had his own gun?” asked Heather.

  “Especially because he had protection,” he said. “Do you think I had something to do with this?”

  “Does a straight flush of hearts mean anything to you?” Heather asked.

  “It’s a poker hand,” said O’Malley. “But other than that, no. Why?”

  “The cards were laid out at the crime scene,” said Heather. “Did Theodore ever win
big or lost big with that hand?”

  “Not that I remember,” he said. “So I don’t think it was a significant event.”

  “Was there any fighting within the poker group?” Heather asked.

  “That’s why you’re talking to me,” he said. “I get it now.”

  “You do?”

  "This is about the pair of twos," O'Malley said. "Look, I did get mad about that. Theodore was good at bluffing that day, and I folded. I ended up folding for a pair of twos. I threw a beer can at the wall. I was mad. But then I realized it was a game and how silly it all was. I accused myself of alcohol abuse and licked the wall to save the beer."

  “This is why I don’t play regularly,” Amy said.

  “But that was a while ago,” O’Malley said. “And I never would have killed over it. And like I said Theodore was a good guy.”

  “Where were you last night?” Heather asked.

  “I was home.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes. Is that a crime? I was watching TV.”

  “It’s no crime,” Heather said. “But it means no one can vouch for your whereabouts.”

  “I guess not. But I didn’t have anything to do with the death.”

  “Who might have?”

  “I don’t know,” O’Malley said.

  “We heard that Theodore Turner was in debt to someone. That he had pawned his TV before,” said Amy. “If it wasn’t for the poker game, who was it for?”

  O’Malley looked uncomfortable. “I mean, I wouldn’t know that, would I?”

  “I’ve got a feeling you do,” said Heather. “Was he gambling on something else?”

  “Maybe,” said O’Malley. “It’s possible that he might have liked to do some sports betting. And it’s possible that I might have given him the name of a guy who takes bets. But it’s impossible for me to give you his name.”

  "Why?" asked Amy. "Did he change it to a symbol?"

  “If I give you his name, I won’t be able to bet with him anymore. And I need that.”

  “And I think we need that name if we are going to figure out who murdered your friend.”

  “I’m sure he had nothing to do with it,” O’Malley said.