Free Donut Shop Mystery 25 - Devil's Food Defense by Jessica Beck Page B

US Postal Service’s rules and regulations. I was looking for a murderer.

    “Barry. Barry. Barry!” I finally shouted, trying to get his attention. The last time did it, and he stopped dead in his tracks as he pulled out his earbuds. He was an odd shape of a man, with a decent-sized belly but possessing the legs of a much younger man, no doubt from all of the walking he did on his job. Though there was still a chill in the air, especially in the mornings, he wore uniform shorts, as if to put his best foot forward, so to speak. His face looked a bit like a bird’s, with a beaklike nose, long, narrow eyes, and a pointed chin.
    “What is it, Suzanne? I haven’t gotten to the donut shop yet, and I can’t just dig through my bag looking for something special for you. I’ve got a schedule, and I’m sticking to it.”
    Barry wasn’t a great mailman. Though my mailbox hung on the outside wall of the former train depot where I sold my treats, he’d refuse to walk in, even if he had something for me too big to fit into the box. Instead, he’d prop it up against the outside wall, as though he couldn’t be bothered walking it the extra four steps inside to hand-deliver it to me. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually stepped foot into Donut Hearts, business or personal, and we didn’t exactly have a cordial relationship. “It’s not about the mail. I need to talk to you about Gray Vincent.”
    That caught him off guard. “What about him? He wasn’t on my route, so I barely knew the man. It’s a shame what happened to him, but I can’t help you.”
    I was on his daily route, and he didn’t know me at all, either. Was he being a little too defensive? “That’s not what I heard.”
    His eyes sharpened a little, and his mouth narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
    “That there was bad blood going on between you two,” I said.
    “That’s a lie,” he said loudly and forcefully. “I know where you heard it. Gladys said something, didn’t she?”
    “What could she possibly say, if nothing happened between the two of you?” I asked him innocently.
    “Nothing. If she, or anybody else, said anything happened between Gray and me, it was strictly in their imagination. Now I have to get back to work. Some of us put in a full day and don’t cut out before lunchtime.”
    That was patently unfair, since I started my day before any sane person even thought about getting out of bed, but I decided to let it slide. It felt as though he was purposely goading me, trying to start a fight so he could end the conversation.
    I wasn’t going to let that happen. “We’re going to find out what really was going on between the two of you,” I said earnestly.
    “Who’s this ‘we’?” he asked me, looking around. “Is your husband prying into other people’s lives with you nowadays?”
    “You never know,” I said, hoping that Grace would do as I asked and stay in the Jeep. It was a lot more intimidating having a former state police investigator on your heels than it was a cosmetics company sales supervisor, though if he really knew Grace, I doubted that he’d feel that way.
    “Fine. So something happened,” Barry said. “He owed me a little money, but we cleared it up. That’s it.”
    “Why would Gray owe you money?” I asked, curious about this sudden confession.
    “It was from a poker game,” the mailman said just a little too quickly. I couldn’t imagine a more outrageous lie. Poker was, by its very nature, a social event, and Gray Vincent would barely leave his cabin, let alone be out among other people playing poker, or any other game.
    “That should be easy enough to prove, then. Who else played that night?” I asked him, doing my best to present a face that didn’t shout LIAR at him.
    “It was a private game,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t feel right mentioning any other names without their permission.”
    No doubt he was hoping that I’d just drop it. It was clear that Barry