“Nothing. Nothing to eat, that is,” Mama Freeze said with a fond smile. “But she goes absolutely nowhere without her battery-powered hair dryer, curling iron, and straightening iron. For emergencies, she says. The bag she carries is about twice the size of my cooler, and my cooler is not petite, let me tell you!”
So . . . the evening of the Fourth of July, both Felicia and Mama Freeze must have carried containers large enough to conceal six donuts and a homemade rocket that could shoot out a marble or two....
Mama Freeze took an empty barrel from the display freezer and put the new one in. “Triple chocolate,” she told me. “Swirls of milk and white chocolate with semisweet chocolate chunks mixed in. One of Taylor’s absolute favorites.” She wiped at her eyes again. “What would you like, Emily?”
“A quart of that, a quart of mint chocolate chip, and a quart of French vanilla.”
Mama Freeze prompted, “Kelsey?”
Kelsey was still standing with a stunned expression on her face. Rivulets of tears running down her cheeks, she opened the back of the display freezer and dug her paddle into a tub of French vanilla. “I’ll pack them for you, Emily.” Her voice sounded muffled. Both she and her boss, when her boss wasn’t joking about bribing Felicia to go to fireworks with her, seemed to be actively mourning Taylor.
Mama Freeze, however, seemed to want to be sociable despite her grief. “I saw your pictures in the paper, Emily, but I almost didn’t recognize you. You’re usually so cheerful and smiling, but you looked angry or maybe even accusing in those pictures.”
“In one of them, I was only teasing my business partner, Tom. In the ones taken at the fairgrounds after Taylor was injured, I was upset.”
“Were you there?” Kelsey asked me. Although I’d seen her when I was coming back from the car with my sweater, I’d been fairly certain that she hadn’t glanced my way.
“Yes. Didn’t I say?” No, Emily, I scolded myself, you certainly did not. Kelsey and Mama Freeze were going to know I was up to something. I hoped they hadn’t heard that I might have helped solve crimes a couple of other times.
Mama Freeze explained, “Emily was definitely there. Some of her pictures in the Fallingbrook News are from that night.” She wrapped her undoubtedly cold hands in the skirt of her ruffled pink and white apron. “It was like whoever took those pictures was trying to make you look like you were”—she let go of her apron and shrugged, palms up—“I don’t know. Guilty or something, Emily.”
I didn’t admit that I’d thought the same thing when I saw those pictures. I asked, “Do you know anything about that photographer? His name’s Philip Landsdowner.”
Mama Freeze shook her head.
Kelsey turned toward us and plunked my quart of vanilla on the counter next to the old-fashioned bronze-toned cash register. “Isn’t that the guy who kept coming in here and just sat staring at Jocelyn like she was his long-lost daughter or something?”
“That guy!” Mama Freeze exclaimed. “I’m not sure he was old enough to be her father, but he was definitely older than she is, and I could see why he made Jocelyn want to leave.”
Kelsey rinsed a paddle in hot water and pushed it into the mint chocolate chip ice cream. “That wasn’t it. He stared at Taylor when she was here, and at me, too, but the real reason that Jocelyn quit was because she felt like she was doing Taylor’s job for her.” Kelsey didn’t look up from scooping ice cream.
Mama Freeze began packing the triple chocolate. “That doesn’t make any sense. Nobody worked as hard as Taylor did.” She stabbed the paddle down into the ice cream. “Nobody,” she repeated. She topped up the triple chocolate and closed the carton. Muttering that she needed to look after a new batch of cappuccino ice cream, Mama Freeze wiped her eyes, pushed the swinging door open, and disappeared into the kitchen.
I paid Kelsey.
“You hired Jocelyn, right?” she asked me.
“Yes.”
“Good luck,” Kelsey said. “She does make a fuss about others not doing their share. I’m not sure how Jocelyn defines her own share, but most people probably wouldn’t agree with her about it.”
And Gabrielle had confided that Taylor had told her that Jocelyn didn’t work hard enough at Freeze.
I suspected that both Kelsey and Taylor had either made up stories or exaggerated some tiny fault of Jocelyn’s that Tom and I would dismiss if we even noticed it. I defended Jocelyn. “She’s worked very hard, so far.”
Kelsey handed me a sturdy paper bag with all three quarts inside it. “There are only three of you working there, right? Her and her two bosses?”
“Right.”
“How long has she worked for you two?”
“About a week and a half.”
Kelsey nodded like a wise old person. “Just watch, is all I’m saying. As Mama Freeze said, Taylor worked hard, so I don’t know what Jocelyn was going on about. She probably did leave because Philip Landsdowner was staring at her, not because of anything Taylor did or didn’t do.”
I thanked Kelsey, took the ice cream home, and put it into the freezer. I pre-chilled a cooler with a couple of ice packs and then went upstairs, showered, and changed out of the fuchsia shorts and blouse and into a casual and comfy navy and white striped T-shirt dress. When it was nearly time to leave, I slid a bottle of wine into my backpack with my wallet and phone. Only the top of the bottle’s neck stuck out. I traded the possibly melting ice packs in my cooler for a couple of solidly frozen ones and tucked the ice cream into the cooler with them.
Misty lived less than a mile away. If I walked, wearing the backpack and lugging the cooler, I could justify eating more of that ice cream....
Chapter 22
My white sandals were almost as comfortable as sneakers. I walked.
Misty’s house was in a newer neighborhood than mine, one that had sprung up around 1930. Her home’s entryway had its own little roof. One side of the roof was short, a straight slant. The other side was longer, not as steep, and had a jaunty upward curve at its lower edge. With that whimsical roofline, the diamond-paned leaded glass windows, and the door’s wrought-iron hardware, the house looked like a larger version of one that elves might design for themselves.
Misty answered my knock. In a frilly white blouse, skinny white pants, and high-heeled sandals, she looked very feminine. Her long blond hair curled around her shoulders.
“Wow,” I said.
“Is it too much? I could change into jeans.”
“Or you could just put on your uniform, bulletproof vest, and clunky boots. That would impress him.”
She pulled me inside. “You’re terrible.”
“You look fabulous. Don’t even think of changing.”
Smiling, Scott arrived a few minutes later. I was certain that Misty noticed how yummy he looked in his jeans and navy blue T-shirt. He handed her a bouquet of yellow roses. “From my garden,” he explained. He also brought a bottle of wine and a stack of thick steaks, which he said he’d grill. “Fire extinguisher in hand,” he joked.
Misty thanked him, found a perfect cut-glass vase for the roses, and put them and some water into it.
When the doorbell rang again, Misty was drizzling dressing over her garlicky green bean and tomato salad. I answered the door.
Samantha was on the narrow stoop with a big bowl of potato salad and a bottle of wine. Her short hair was tinted in pastel blues and aquas that coordinated with her floral-printed summer dress. I peeked past her. Hooligan was nowhere in sight.
A few minutes later, he showed up looking adorably boyish with his freckles and auburn hair and in his cutoffs, polo shirt, and sandals. He brought a shrimp ring appetizer and another bottle of wine.
We set up Misty’s kitchen island as a buffet, and Scott poured us each a glass of wine. We toasted each other. Samantha and Hooligan stood side by side, bare arms touching. The baby blue of his shirt coordinated nicely with Samantha’s dress. They kept throwing smiles at each other. Yes!
“Brent probably ca
n’t make it,” Misty told us. “He said to eat without him.”
In a way, I was relieved. In another way, I was disappointed. As long as the numbers were uneven, Scott would probably divide his attention equally between the rest of us, and there would be no chance for him to show Misty that he preferred her.
Then I realized that, in the back of my mind, I was actually considering pretending that Brent and I were more interested in each other than we really were, only to throw Misty and Scott together. That might be okay, as long as Brent understood why we were doing it. But I had no idea how I could go about suggesting such a thing to him without sounding really peculiar.
Try not to hurt Brent, Misty had told me.
Telling someone that I was pretending to be romantically interested in him in order to do some matchmaking might not be the best way of not hurting that particular someone. Saying it to a friend, even a good friend . . . well, I wasn’t going to. Brent’s friendship mattered to me. A lot.
Still, I was almost glad that he hadn’t come. Maybe the others would have tried to throw the two of us together more than either Brent or I would have liked.
Hooligan and Scott went out to Misty’s patio with the steaks. From inside, we could hear the rumble of their deep voices.
Misty beamed at Samantha. “I’m happy for you,” she said.
I agreed.
Samantha blushed. “Thank you, Misty, for making certain that we met and for not minding spending your time off with your work partner.”
Misty dismissed her thanks. “He’s easy to be around. We work well together, partly because of the structure of the police department. There’s no question about who’s boss in our relationship. I have seniority, and I’m boss.” She let out a devilish cackle, which made the other two of us burst out laughing just as the men brought the steaks in.
They gave us funny looks but didn’t say anything.
We loaded our plates and took them outside to Misty’s patio. Her large round umbrella table was set for six, with pretty turquoise quilted place mats and matching cloth napkins on the glass surface.
Samantha and Hooligan sat beside each other. Misty was between Hooligan and Scott, and I was between Scott and the empty chair. Flushed, Misty was charming and not at all abrupt, and I had a feeling that if Scott hadn’t already noticed how attractive she was, he was seeing it now.
It was getting late when the five of us carried the dishes into the kitchen.
The doorbell rang. Misty left to answer it.
She came back with Brent.
Misty might believe that even numbers were good, but I felt suddenly awkward. Brent knew about my matchmaking. The other four seemed to be pairing off the way I’d hoped, which left Brent and me as a pair of non-dating singles. We might look like we were dating when we weren’t.
I told myself I was making a big deal out of nothing.
And I was right. There was no problem. Brent came into Misty’s kitchen smiling at everyone and with his hands full of gourmet flatbreads, cheese, grapes, strawberries, and yet another bottle of wine, which meant that we could all smile and greet him without worrying about hugs, handshakes, and backslaps. He wore a white shirt untucked over khakis. No shoulder holster in sight.
We had already devoured the shrimp ring. Brent’s offering worked as an appetizer for him and a pre-dessert for the rest of us. There was no way we would drink all of the wine we’d brought, but no one minded having just a little more.
Scott took the last steak out of Misty’s fridge. We all went outside and joined forces, teasing Brent that the rest of us were going to help ourselves to his steak. After the meat and salads were on Brent’s plate, we all sat at Misty’s outdoor table again, but not where we’d sat before. I ended up across from Brent.
Absently watching him while he ate, I thought about what I’d learned from Felicia, Gabrielle, and the women at Freeze.
Brent caught me staring at him. My face heated. With his slightly unnerving detective expression, he stared right back. I looked away. Maybe, sometime when we were alone, I might discuss the murder investigation with him. At the moment, I needed to relax and enjoy being with these friends.
When Brent was ready for dessert, we dug into the ice cream.
We joked, laughed, and teased one another until my face hurt from smiling. Needing to go to work, Samantha left first. Hooligan stayed another half hour and then drove off in his own car. Scott, Brent, and I helped Misty clean up.
I glanced at the clock on her wall. How did it get to be almost ten? Dep usually made certain I was awake about five in the morning. “I should go,” I said.
Brent asked me, “How did you get here?”
“Walked.” If he offered me a ride, I would take it. Misty and Scott would be alone together.
“I’ll walk you home.” Brent’s tone left no allowance for refusal.
“I’ll come, too,” Scott said. “I need to go into work.”
That wasn’t part of my matchmaking plan.
We all hugged Misty and then left for my house. Brent carried my cooler. Walking between the two tall men, I took my longest and quickest strides, but I suspected they both had to slow their normal pace for me.
Scott asked Brent how the murder case was going.
“We’re making progress. Have you heard from your parents yet, Em?”
For a second, I considered commenting on his abrupt change of subject. Instead, I answered, “No. I went out to their campsite this afternoon. They hadn’t arrived there yet, either.”
Scott seemed very concerned until I reassured him that my parents almost never contacted me during their rambling journeys to and from Florida.
Both Scott and Brent came up onto my front porch with me. I opened the door.
“Meow!” Dep ran outside to greet Brent. Quickly, he set down the cooler and scooped her up. I plunked the cooler on the living room floor and held out my arms. Dep wriggled. Brent handed her to me. He and Scott said goodbye and jogged down the porch steps. Dep and I watched as they turned toward downtown Fallingbrook and the police and fire departments, and then I carried Dep inside and dead-bolted the door.
“Meow!”
I held her up to my face and looked into her eyes. “Brent will be back another time.”
“Meow!”
“How could I give either of them goodbye hugs when I was hugging you?”
“Mew.”
I cradled her like a baby. She purred.
Chapter 23
The next day was Tom’s first day off since Jocelyn had begun working with us. Dep and I arrived at Deputy Donut before Jocelyn did. My one day away felt like several. I went into the kitchen and punched down the yeast dough that Tom had made the night before and had placed in our temperature-and humidity-controlled proofing cabinet to rise overnight. The dough was perfect.
Singing, Jocelyn danced in. She rolled and cut out the yeast dough while I mixed the dough that used baking soda and baking powder as leavening agents.
I fried donuts. Filling milk and cream pitchers and making certain that every table was ready for guests, Jocelyn raced around the dining room. She was like a ball of energy, possibly about to do backflips over tables. Fortunately for the tables, she didn’t attempt it.
Standing beside each other at the high marble work counter in the kitchen, we started the part of the job she seemed to like best, frosting and decorating.
“I love working here while I’m saving for college,” Jocelyn confided. She had taken the year since high school to train and attend competitions. She was scheduled to start college in the fall. “If you and Tom need more time off this summer, I could work seven days a week, and put in overtime, too.”
Summer was busy at Deputy Donut. “Would you like to skip your day off tomorrow? With your gymnastics, you must not have much free time.”
“I can handle it.”
“Tom and I will both be here tomorrow, but you can come in, also, and see how you feel about working here seven days a week.�
�� I was certain that Tom wouldn’t mind. “Did you work lots of hours at Freeze?”
“Yes, and sometimes at very short notice when . . . um, when one of the employees didn’t show up.”
I carefully did not look at her. “I got the impression from Kelsey that Taylor was often late for work.”
Jocelyn sighed. “She was almost never on time, and she took days off without warning anyone, which was why I sometimes had to drop everything and go in to work. It was okay, but being able to plan ahead is better. And I really wouldn’t mind being called in on short notice, as long as I get to my coach when I’m supposed to. That’s another reason I like it here. You two let me go at five thirty, and sometimes before.”
“Mama Freeze told me that Taylor was a very hard worker.”
Jocelyn didn’t say anything for a heartbeat, and then she muttered, “She worked hard when Mama Freeze was looking.”
“But you and Kelsey and other clerks often took up the slack?”
“Yes, although I worked in the kitchen more than out front with the other clerks.”
“Why was that?”
“I like making good things to eat.”
“Did Taylor work in the kitchen, too?”
Shuffling her feet, Jocelyn shifted her position. “Not much. I probably shouldn’t say this, but she only worked in the kitchen or worked hard when she needed to make a good impression.”
“On Mama Freeze.” I stated it like fact.
“On Mama Freeze. Taylor had no problem making a good impression on people buying ice cream. She was really good at dealing with the public.”
“You are, too.”
Jocelyn drizzled lines of chocolate icing over the vanilla frosting on raised vanilla donuts. “I have trouble smiling when I don’t feel like it, but Taylor could smile no matter what. A kid drops an ice cream cone? No problem. Taylor would clean it up after the kid left.”
I thought I heard doubt in that last sentence. “And did she?”
“Not when I was around. I usually did the cleaning and tidying during the hours we were open. The Jolly Cops Cleaning Crew came in at night. I only met them once, but they truly are jolly. You and Tom said they clean here, too. Are they also cops?”
Jealousy Filled Donuts Page 14
