Boston Scream Murder

by Ginger Bolton

  She shook her red-hooded head. “It’s near Emily’s. I can run there in three minutes. What are the chances of two murderers trick-or-treating in that neighborhood in one night?”

  I thanked her again for helping keep me safe from Steve.

  “You and Dep did at least as much as I did.”

  We gave each other high fives, and I let her out the front door. She jogged south on Wisconsin Street.

  Finally warm again, I gave Brent his jacket. He put it on. He and I sat at the table where he’d questioned Jocelyn, out of earshot of the party going on closer to the kitchen. Brent took out his notebook.

  I told him everything that had happened before he drove up and illuminated the scene with his headlights. He sighed, put his notebook away, and squeezed my shoulder. “Sorry, but I probably won’t return to your party tonight. I’ll leave my car in the lot behind your shop, though, in case I finish before your party ends. I’ll leave my hat, wig, and bow tie inside the car.” I convinced him to take a donut along to eat during the short walk to the police station.

  Samantha checked my head again. “It doesn’t look bad. Continue icing that lump, off and on. And go easy on the alcohol tonight, okay?”

  I agreed, although a glass of wine would have been welcome.

  Heading toward the others, I called out, “Who wants to hear a ghost story?”

  Chapter 33

  Everyone laughed at my offer of a ghost story, but, between stuffing ourselves with Halloween donuts and the chocolate bars I’d brought in my orange wicker basket with its grinning jack-o’-lantern face, a lot of our discussion was about the ghost who, thanks to his purloined sheet and my cat, had tripped and sat in a plate of Boston scream and other Halloween donuts.

  Samantha called the hospital and reported that Cheryl did not appear to have been seriously injured and would probably be sent home after a few tests. Samantha checked the back of my head and told me not to be alone that night.

  “I won’t. I’m staying with Tom and Cindy.”

  “And bringing Dep,” Cindy reminded me. “Dep will wake Tom and me up if Emily needs help in the night.”

  Samantha merely rolled her eyes.

  She and Hooligan were scheduled to work in the morning. They left.

  Misty and Scott offered to drop Nina off at her apartment. “If you don’t mind walking to the fire station where my car is,” Scott added.

  “Or the police station where mine is,” Misty said.

  Nina answered, “I don’t mind walking either place, but I usually walk home. I’ll stay and help clean up.”

  Tom and I responded together, “No, you won’t!”

  “I’ll help clean up,” Cindy offered, “while I wait for Emily and Tom.”

  Nina accepted the ride with Misty or Scott. They went out the front and headed toward the fire and police stations.

  I tried to get Tom and Cindy to act like guests instead of hosts. “There’s not much to do when the partygoers are so neat.”

  Nevertheless, Cindy filled the dishwasher while Tom and I tidied everything for the Jolly Cops, who would be there in an hour or two. We were almost done when my phone rang.

  “Where are you?” Brent asked.

  “Deputy Donut. The party’s about over.”

  “Sorry I missed it. Want to go kayaking?”

  “Now?”

  “Unless it’s too late.”

  “I’d love to. I’ll change while you’re walking here.”

  We disconnected, and I asked Cindy and Tom if they would mind taking Dep to their house while I went kayaking with Brent. “Or if her howling while you drive will be too much, she can wait for me to come back here and I’ll bring her later.”

  “We’ll take her,” Tom insisted. “What if one of the Jolly Cops arrives while she’s still here, and he’s dressed in a ghost costume? Dep might attack him.”

  Laughing at the image he conjured up, I thanked them.

  “Have fun tonight,” Cindy said.

  I explained that we wouldn’t be long and that we were hoping Lake Fleekom would be misty under a full moon.

  Cindy made a pretend shiver. “Better you than me. That sounds cold.”

  “I brought warm clothes.”

  All three of us went into the office. Dep was snoozing on the couch. Tom picked her up. When she was securely locked in his arms, I dragged the cat carrier out from underneath the desk.

  “Merow!”

  Cindy spoke softly to her, and Dep became almost boneless, making it easy for Tom to slide her into the carrier.

  Wide-eyed, I looked at Cindy. “How did you do that?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe after everything else that happened tonight, she just gave up.”

  I reached into the carrier and managed to touch Dep’s warm fur with an index finger. “See you later, Dep. Be a good houseguest.”

  The answer was the tiniest mew I’d heard from Dep since she was a kitten.

  Tom and Cindy left. I locked the door behind them, grabbed my bag, raced into the ladies’ room, pulled off the velvet dress and put on warm leggings, a long sweater, a jacket, and socks and sneakers.

  I went out through the office, locked the back door, and set the alarm.

  Brent was waiting beside his car.

  He stowed my bag in his trunk and opened the passenger door.

  We got in and Brent started the car. “You were right,” he said. “Derek drove his pickup truck to Rich’s cottage on Thursday night. He claimed he was only trying to find Terri and help her, but we managed to get him to confess that Thursday night wasn’t the first time he’d gone to that cottage since he was kicked out of it. He rode his motorcycle there after you sent him away from the party on Tuesday afternoon. He didn’t know that Rich had been killed. He found the cottage’s back door hanging open, so he went in. He stole that bowl. He wanted to get Terri into trouble, so he was going to report her for stealing the bowl from the cottage and leaving it at his place. After Derek heard that Rich was murdered, Derek didn’t want to have that bowl in his possession. He drove back late Thursday night to put the bowl where he’d found it. By then, the place was locked, and crime scene tape was around it and he decided not to break in. The next day he dumped Terri’s things in her front yard and put the bowl with them. He still hoped to get Terri into trouble for stealing it, but in the end, he admitted that he was the one who took it.”

  “Was he afraid that his being inside that cottage on Tuesday afternoon might make you charge him with murder?”

  “Probably.”

  “Did anyone get Steve to confess to murdering Rich and attacking Cheryl and me?”

  Brent turned south on Wisconsin Street. “Kim did. It didn’t help his case that the pillowcase he was carrying around, the one Jocelyn saw him aim at your head, had several pounds of rocks in the bottom. Kim told him that testimony from Terri and from the owners of the Teddy Beddy Bye-Bye Motel, plus records from Rich’s charge card had exonerated both Rich and Terri. Steve, that is Stanley, broke down.”

  “Didn’t Stanley know that Patty’s death was ruled as accidental?”

  “He didn’t believe it. He unearthed rumors about Rich’s affair with Terri, so he was certain that Rich had killed Patty. He asked us why Rich’s alibi wasn’t public knowledge.”

  “Why wasn’t it?”

  “Delicate sensibilities and job security. Neither Rich nor Terri wanted anyone to know about their affair. And Terri was horrified. She ended the affair and switched jobs.”

  Folded in my lap, my hands were tense. I tried to relax them. “Rich might have broken up with Terri to preserve his own reputation.”

  “Could be. Anyway, Stanley was distraught just now in the police station, mostly about his half sister’s death, but also about the way he’d spent years planning revenge for a crime that had never been committed, and about the way he’d now ruined his own life.”

  I exhaled. “He confessed in my kitchen when he wasn’t sure I could hear him. I’m glad he confessed
to you, too.”

  “It makes the case easier.”

  “Do you know if Rich signed a will between when his mother died and when he wrote the recent one naming Terri as his beneficiary?”

  “We found no evidence of one. By the way, you guessed right about Stanley and the canoe. Forensics will check his car against the mold they made of the tire prints in that dried-up mud puddle, but he admits he parked beside that pathway. First, though, he drove to Rich’s cottage, which he’d learned about from researching Rich. He parked at the log cabin next to it and hid his car among trees. He’s a jogger. He jogged along the road to Rich’s cottage where he broke in and stole the first weapon-like thing he found, that skillet. He figured no one would connect it with him. Then he saw Rich’s canoe on the dock and used it rather than his car to transport the skillet to Rich’s. The mist was wispy on the road to the cottages but heavy on the lake, and he thought he had a better chance of concealing himself and the canoe on the lake. He hovered behind a point with trees leaning out from it and watched Rich’s place. He wasn’t certain he would get a chance to attack Rich that day. He saw Terri canoe away, but the caterers were still there, and Terri only went as far as Hank’s beach. After the caterers left and Terri paddled away from Hank’s—”

  I interrupted, “If Stanley was telling the truth about Terri, she really did go canoeing after she talked to Hank. And Hank lied. Why did he do that?”

  Naturally Brent answered with a question of his own. “Any guesses?”

  I shrugged in the darkness. “Maybe he was certain she didn’t kill Rich, and he was trying to protect her?”

  “Could be. Anyway, after Stanley saw her disappear in the mist, he took his chance and paddled to Rich’s beach. Carrying the skillet, he found Rich inside the tent, and you know what happened then.”

  I shuddered. “Yes.”

  Brent made the turn onto my street. “The mist was still heavy. He paddled the canoe back behind the leaning trees to keep an eye on Rich’s place and to try to figure out where Terri was so he could avoid her. He heard a car, probably yours, and decided he was dangerously close to Rich’s. Sure that Terri was out on the lake, he didn’t paddle all the way back to Rich’s cottage or the cabin next to it. He paddled across the lake—”

  “And he was so nervous that he banged his paddle against the gunwales.”

  “He didn’t mention that. He pulled the canoe into the woods where you found it on Wednesday, and then jogged back to his car and changed his clothes. He drove partway down the road and parked beside it near the pathway that leads to where he’d left the canoe. He was supposed to meet Cheryl at Rich’s party at noon, so he waited until two minutes till. He pulled into Rich’s driveway right after Cheryl did.”

  “Where are his bloodstained clothes?”

  Brent shot me a quick grin. “Trust you to think of that. We asked. They’re weighted down with rocks in Lake Fleekom near the shuttered log cabin.”

  “Did he use his knowledge as a private investigator to find out what happened to Patty?”

  “Yes, and to track Rich down. Rich must have known about Stanley’s existence, but by the time of Patty’s death, he must have had no idea where Stanley was, so Rich couldn’t tell him that Patty was dead or about Rich’s alibi. Stanley hadn’t seen Patty since he was seven, and hadn’t heard from her in years. The first time he met Rich was on Monday afternoon, at Deputy Donut.”

  “Stanley wasn’t all bad.”

  Brent pulled into my driveway. “A lot of them aren’t.”

  My front door was closed, but there were lights on inside and the yellow police tape was still draped across my porch. I felt like I might cry—for a blustery older man who had loved Boston and art, for a woman who had loved nature and canoeing, and for a small boy who had loved and lost the half sister who’d been like a mother to him.

  We got out. A policeman opened my front door and stepped onto the porch.

  Brent went to tell the officer I had permission to drive my car away. I put my bag into my trunk with my paddle and life jacket.

  I drove my car, and Brent followed me in his to Lake Fleekom.

  The full moon was high and bright, shining down on pale mist rising above the water.

  No lights were on inside Rich’s house.

  I was glad that Terri hadn’t murdered the man who had declared she was the love of his life. If she truly loved him, and I guessed she did, inheriting everything he’d owned was probably not much of a consolation, though.

  I hoped she wouldn’t go back to Derek.

  Hank’s house was dark, too. I liked Hank. I was also glad he wasn’t a murderer. Maybe I would find out when he was giving another performance so I could attend it and hear him play.

  With Brent following far enough back that his headlights didn’t shine in my mirrors, I drove around the left curve and on, past the place where Stanley had ditched the canoe he’d stolen from Rich’s dock.

  I pulled into the parking area at the county park, got out, and unfastened my kayak. Because of the moonlight, which was almost doubled by the moon’s reflection off the misty lake, I didn’t need a flashlight.

  Brent took off his shoulder holster and shut his revolver inside a case. He locked the case and put it into his trunk, which he also locked. We put on our life jackets and carried our kayaks and paddles to the edge of the water.

  Mist blanketed the lake and writhed upward in long fingers.

  Neither Brent nor I spoke, but I might have sighed.

  As always, I managed to plunge one foot into the water. Then finally, there it was, that exhilaration of floating free, my kayak and paddle almost silent.

  I meandered out toward the middle of the lake. I could hear the swish of Brent’s kayak cutting through the water behind me.

  When we were surrounded by white with the dazzling silver moon high above us in a sky too bright for stars, I stopped paddling and rested my paddle across the coaming in front of me.

  Brent pulled up beside me and grabbed the end of my paddle. He placed one end of his paddle next to mine. I gripped it. He moved his hand to mine.

  “Is anything wrong, Em?”

  Brushing tears from my eyes with my free hand, I shook my head. “It’s . . . everything.” The moment was so beautiful that it hurt. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted it to end.

  Our clasped hands tethering our kayaks together, we drifted on the magical, mist-covered, moonlit lake.

  Boston Scream Murder Recipes

  Boston Scream Donuts

  Hint: Make the filling first so that it can be chilling while you make the donuts. Make the frosting while the donuts are cooling.

  For the donuts:

  1 cup less 3 tablespoons warm water

  ¼ cup unsalted butter, softened

  2 tablespoons active dry yeast (yes, this is a lot!)

  ½ cup sugar

  3½ cups all-purpose or bread flour

  ½ teaspoon salt

  1 egg or 2 egg whites, room temperature

  If frying your donuts: vegetable oil with a smoke point of 400° or higher (or follow your deep fryer’s instruction manual)

  In your mixer bowl fitted with a dough hook, combine the warm water, butter, yeast, and sugar. Let stand for 15 minutes to allow the yeast to work.

  Add 2 cups of the flour, the salt, and the egg to the yeast mixture. Stir with the dough hook, stopping if necessary to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the remaining flour ½ cup at a time and knead with the dough hook. If the dough is too sticky, add ¼ cup of flour and knead with the dough hook. If the dough is still too sticky, carefully add more flour 1 teaspoon at a time. Continue kneading with the dough hook until the dough cleans the sides of the bowl, is satiny, doesn’t stick to your fingers, and doesn’t keep its shape when pinched. It should still feel slightly sticky. Too much flour will make the donuts tough.

  Cover the bowl with a damp cloth or plastic wrap, place it in a warm area, and let the dough rise until it doubles in volume, about 1½ t
o 2 hours.

  Punch down the dough and divide in half. For each half, roll the dough to about ½ inch thick between two sheets of parchment paper.

  Remove the top sheet of parchment paper and cut rounds from the dough with a round cookie cutter, cutting them as close together as possible, and place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet (don’t reroll the dough scraps.)

  Cover the rounds with a damp cloth or plastic wrap and let them rise for about 30–60 minutes or until they are puffy.

  Fry the donuts at 350ºF, turning when golden, about 1 to 2 minutes per side. Lift them from the oil and allow them to drain on paper towels

  OR bake on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper or a silicone baking sheet in a 375ºF oven for about 10 minutes until the tops are golden.

  When cool, slice the donuts in half horizontally (you’ll have two rounds to put together like sandwiches).

  Frost the tops with fudge frosting (below) and carve screaming faces into the fudge.

  Spread filling (below) on the bottom halves and gently place the screaming face on top.

  Note: to make the donuts truly delicious and difficult to eat neatly, use lots of frosting and filling on each one.

  For the fudge frosting:

  This is a fudgy frosting that holds its shape if you want to carve screaming faces—or anything else—in the frosting. See below for a more traditional frosting for Boston Cream Donuts.

  2 ounces unsweetened chocolate

  1 tablespoon unsalted butter

  ½ cup milk

  approximately 2 cups powdered sugar, sifted

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  In a microwave oven, slowly melt the chocolate and butter in the milk. Do not allow the milk to boil.

  Transfer the chocolate mixture to a mixer bowl and stir well.

  Let the chocolate mixture stand until it is lukewarm.

  Stir in the vanilla.

  Stir in, bit by bit, the sifted powdered sugar.