“I didn’t poison her!” Perry said, hitting the table.
“I don’t know,” Amy said, whispering to her bestie. “He still seems like a suspect in my book.”
Dinner, Take Two
Ryan raised a glass of champagne and Heather clicked her against his.
“To true love and romantic dinners,” said Ryan.
“I’m glad we decided to come back,” said Heather. “As long as we’re together, I don’t really mind where we are. But I was really looking forward to a candlelight dinner with you.”
"And after almost getting that sure-to-be-delicious food yesterday, I was eager to come back."
“This time I’m really not going to have the bread,” Heather said. “I’m saving room for my entrée and maybe some dessert.”
“I’m fine with dessert here as long as we can still have one of those Strawberries and Chocolate Donuts when we get home.”
They chatted some more about happy things: how Lilly was doing well in school, how their “fixer-upper” house finally seemed to stop giving them problems, and about how long it would take before Amy and Jamie admitted that they wanted to adopt Miss Marshmallow.
Their food still had not arrived, and their conversation turned back towards the case.
“Any of the three suspects we questioned could have done it,” said Heather. “And we still have the two more that we haven’t found yet.”
“Peters and I have been checking to see if any of the suspects have links to cyanide. Unfortunately, if someone had the know-how, it can be collected from grinding up certain types of pits from fruit.”
“And it would be really hard to account for every item someone every bought at a grocery store,” said Heather frowning.
"Not to mention, there are fruit trees that grown all around the island," said Ryan.
“Do any of the suspects jump out at you?” asked Heather.
“I don’t like the temper on Perry Rogers,” said Ryan. “I could see him snapping and killing Stephanie.”
“If she had been strangled or stabbed, I would definitely agree,” said Heather. “But poisoning someone requires planning. I think he might be someone who acts more on impulse. He doesn’t strike me as someone who schemes.”
“Then you think it was Charlie Polk or Russ Mindhorn?”
"Out of those options, Russ Mindhorn seems like the timidest of them who would use poison as their murder weapon," Heather said, thinking about it. “But from what he said, he seemed optimistic about the way things would go with Stephanie Jordan and killing her would kill his chance for romance. However, he could have been lying.”
“I think we need to find Derek and CDB,” said Ryan.
"Me too," said Heather. "But tomorrow. It looks like our food is ready now."
Their entrees were delivered in front of them, and the couple inhaled the savory smells. They had each just taken one bite of their meals and proclaimed that they were worth the wait when Heather's cell phone rang.
“It’s Bernadette,” Heather said, frowning. Her friend didn’t often call her. They just visited one another at their shops or went to lunch. “Hello?”
“Heather. Oh, I’m so glad you picked up! I need your help.”
“What’s wrong?”
"I was going to close up my shop, and I started hearing strange noises. I know I've been jumpy lately because of all the horror books, but this isn't because of that. Someone or something is right outside my store. I'm scared. Heather, what if it gets me?"
“It won’t,” Heather said. “Because we’re on our way there right now.”
She hung up the phone. Ryan was already standing.
“Dinner will have to wait again,” said Heather. “Bernadette is in danger.”
While Ryan sped them over to Bernadette’s Beachy Books, Heather made sure to call Amy and let her know what was happening.
They arrived at the bookshop at about the same time, though one was dressed for a romantic evening out on the town and the other was in pajamas.
“You’re in PJs?” asked Heather.
“I thought it was an emergency,” said Amy. “If I save Bernadette’s life, she’s not going to care what I’m wearing.”
Ryan raised a finger to his lips signaling them to be quiet. They didn't hear anything out of the ordinary but made their way to the front door. Bernadette was waiting for their arrival and unlocked the door to let them in. She locked it immediately after they entered and then hugged Heather.
"Thank you for coming," she said. "And you brought the police. Good. And Amy. In pajamas."
“Is this an emergency, or isn’t it?” Amy asked with her hands on her hips.
"I think so," said Bernadette. "I'm sure there was someone outside my shop, and they didn't sound friendly. I was afraid to leave on my own.”
“What did it sound like?” asked Ryan.
“Actually, it sounded like growling.”
“Growling?” asked Heather. “Like an animal?”
“Yes,” said Bernadette. “I know that sounds like I’ve been reading too much about werewolves, but I know that I did hear something.”
“When was the last time you heard it?” Heather asked.
“I heard strange noises before I called you and then it's been happening consistently since then."
They all strained their ears and listened, but it remained quiet.
“Are you sure you weren’t just reading too many werewolf stories and imagined it all?” asked Amy.
“No,” Bernadette said, even though there were still no more noises. “I’m sure I didn’t imagine it.”
“Are you really sure?” Amy asked.
Then, they all heard a strange noise. There was a grating, scratching sound combined with a banging. There was also a noise that sounded like a wounded animal.
“I’m sure,” Bernadette said.
“Stay here,” Ryan said. “I’m going to investigate.”
“I’m not going to let you go alone,” Heather said.
“Fine, but let me go first,” Ryan said, heading to the door. “Amy, you stay with Bernadette.”
“No problem,” Amy agreed.
They heard the noise again. Heather nodded at Ryan, and they started out to investigate.
The Noise
Heather’s heart was beating a mile a minute as she followed behind Ryan, looking for the source of the scary sound. Were they about to face danger? Were they walking into a trap? What would be around the corner?
“This is the Key West police,” Ryan said firmly as the peered around the side of the shop. “Who’s there?”
They heard the noise again, but this time it sounded more like a groan.
“It’s behind the dumpster,” Heather whispered.
They carefully moved forward until they could see the source of the noise. It wasn't a monster or killer. It was Mr. Rankle. He was laying on the ground in pain. He was dragging his cane across the ground and banging it against the side of the building, trying to attract someone's attention.
“Mr. Rankle,” Heather called. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“My leg,” he said. “I’ve hurt it. I fell and I can’t get myself up.”
“I’m calling an ambulance now,” Ryan said. “And then I’ll tell the others what’s going on.”
He took out his phone as he began to walk away.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Rankle,” Heather said. “Help is coming. We’re going to make sure you’re okay.”
He seemed finally to recognize Heather and regained some of his spiteful vigor.
“You,” he growled. “Was this plan all along?”
“My plan?”
“Conduct all of your own little investigations so I think that it’s something I could attempt too?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Was this all so I would hurt my bum leg even more?” he asked.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” Heather said. “No matter how we can disagr
ee, we’re neighbors.”
“Did the bookseller girl do it?” he asked.
“I’m really not sure what you’re talking about,” said Heather. “But you scared her half to death with your calls for help. Inside the store, they just sounded like scary sounds.”
“As soon as my leg is fixed, I’m going to figure out who is behind this. They won’t get away with it.”
"If it's a case that needs solving, I'd be happy to help," Heather offered.
“Are you kidding? You’re one of my prime suspects!”
“For what?”
Heather wasn’t able to find out what because the ambulance arrived on the scene quickly. An EMT she had met before briefly named Emmitt was the first to check on Mr. Rankle.
“We’re going to bring you to the hospital to get your leg checked out,” Emmitt said. “Luckily, you didn’t hit your head. There’s no sign of a concussion.”
He and his team loaded an annoyed Mr. Rankle onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Amy and Bernadette came out to join her.
“I feel so bad,” Bernadette said. “I thought it was someone out to hurt me, but it was someone who needed help. I shouldn’t have waited to see what was causing it. He could have gotten to the hospital sooner.”
“There’s no way you could have known,” Heather said.
“Yeah,” said Amy. “I haven’t been reading a ton of ghost stories and I thought I heard a monster.”
“And there is a killer on the loose,” Ryan said. “You did the smart thing.”
"It's safe for you to leave now," Heather said. "You could go home. Unless you still feel uneasy, then you're welcome to stay on my couch for the night."
“I’d offer the same,” said Amy. “But Miss Marshmallow has been claiming the couch as her bed at night.”
“Thanks,” Bernadette said. “I should be fine to head home. And I do really appreciate how you came to save me – even if it turned into saving our grumpy neighbor instead.”
They said goodnight and Bernadette headed home.
“We should visit Mr. Rankle in the morning,” Heather said.
“Do we have to?” asked Amy.
Heather nodded. “There’s something going on here that I don’t understand yet.”
“Does it relate to the murder case?” asked Ryan.
“To be honest, I don’t see how it can,” said Heather. “But Mr. Rankle thinks we’re up to something. And if we aren’t, it means that someone else is.”
“Something related to his mail?” Amy guessed.
“There’s just one thing I have to figure out before we go there,” said Heather.
“To figure out why we actually have to visit that mean old guy,” said Amy.
“Normally I’d bring someone recovering in the hospital some donuts,” said Heather. “But he likes to pretend that he doesn’t like ours! So, what should we bring?”
The next morning, Heather and Amy entered Mr. Rankle’s room. He glared at them.
“Did you bring donuts with you? You know how I hate them.”
“We did bring some Strawberries and Chocolate Donuts,” Heather said. “But we brought them so you could give them to the nurses. We thought it would show that you appreciate them.”
“And then they won’t try and steal my wallet or anything like that. I like the idea,” he said. “As long as you realize that they aren’t for me.”
Heather nodded. She had a strong feeling that as soon as they left the room, Mr. Rankle would be the first one to bite into a donut, but she let him have his moment.
“How are you feeling?” Heather asked.
“Cranky,” he said.
“She meant about your leg,” said Amy.
“It still hurts. They want to keep me here another day to make sure that everything sets properly. They said that because my leg was injured to begin with, they need to take extra care. Bah. I hate hospitals.”
“Mr. Rankle, what were you doing out there when you fell? Or did someone help you to fall?” asked Heather.
“No one made me fall directly,” Mr. Rankle said. “I wasn’t pushed or anything like that. But I’m not convinced that this wasn’t all part of that stupid Valentine’s Day prank.”
“What prank is this?” asked Heather.
He eyed them and then said, “I guess I don’t really think you’re behind it. You’re too busy with your investigations and baking up icky donuts to have the time for it.”
“Icky donuts?” Amy asked, both offended by the insult and the word choice.
“Someone sent me a Valentine,” Mr. Rankle said, distastefully.
“What’s wrong with that?” asked Heather. “That sounds nice.”
"If it were a real Valentine, it would be. But I know it's not. It was signed by a secret admirer," he sneered. “Who would sign it like that? And I don’t know anyone who admires me.”
“No arguments there,” Amy muttered.
"It's either someone trying to con me out of money and this is the first step of it. Or it's a prank. Probably from someone on the street. At first, I thought it was you and your donut shop because of – the disagreements we've had in the past."
“You mean that you keep trying to have our shop shut down?” offered Amy.
“And I know that Digby of yours can be trouble. But then I thought it might be someone else on the street. I thought it might be that Bernadette. She’s not from around here either.”
“She’s lived in Key West for five years,” Heather protested.
“And I thought maybe working in a bookshop like that might make her go loopy,” Mr. Rankle continued. “So, I decided to check and look for evidence that she was the one who did it. I thought maybe I’d see the same sort of paper in her trash. But instead of finding proof, I fell down like an old fool.”
“I don’t know who sent it to you,” Heather said. “But I’m positive it’s not Bernadette trying to prank you.”
“You’re probably right,” he grudgingly admitted.
“Is there any chance it came from a real secret admirer?” asked Heather.
“Who?” Mr. Rankle asked.
When Heather couldn’t come up with an answer right away, he responded with a “See? Now, I think you better go. I need to rest up.”
Heather realized that he probably just wanted them to go so he could eat a donut without them seeing him, but she also recognized that he should be getting some rest as well.
She and Amy left the hospital and wandered away.
“Who do you think sent him that Valentine?” Amy asked. “And why?”
“I’m not sure,” said Heather. “But he’s facing the same dilemma that we are with our case with the candy. We just don’t know who they came from.”
Love at the Counter
Heather returned to Donut Delights and helped with the morning rush. Because of the sweet holiday coming up, her Strawberries and Chocolate Donuts were flying off the shelf, as well as some of the classic favorites.
After the rush quieted, Heather checked on her employees. Janae brought out another batch of chocolate donuts as Digby wiped down the counter.
“Nina and Luz are going to come in and help with the afternoon rush,” Heather said. “But, are we all right for now?”
“It should be busy because it’s the day before Valentine’s Day,” Janae said. “But I think we’ve got it all covered.”
"And you two are both doing okay?" Heather asked. She thought of her assistants more as her family than as just her employees. She always wanted to make sure that they were taken care of.
“I’m fine,” Digby said. “But then again. I’m not chasing down any murderers.”
Heather chuckled. “I guess I am doing that again. It can be stressful, but baking here helps me feel more relaxed. And sometimes working on another task helps me come up with answers when I least expect it.”
“Did that happen today?” asked Digby.
“No,” Heather sighed. “I still don’t know if any of the people
we already spoke to could be the killer, and I don’t know how to find the other two suspects that we haven’t found yet.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Janae assured her. “And I hope I’ll figure out my problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing like a murder case,” Janae said. “I’m trying to figure out my Valentine’s Day plans. I said I wasn’t going to lead any bike tours tomorrow, so I could have the night off when I leave here. I thought I might have a date. I actually thought there were two guys who might be interested in me.”
"Yeah. I might have thought that too," Digby said wryly.
“But they’ve both been so confusing,” said Janae. “Sometimes I think they really like me and then they either act odd or back away. I can’t figure out how interested they are.”
“Are you interested in either of them?” Heather asked, trying to act casual.
"They both seem really nice and I liked them both when I led them on bike tours. But they've both acted a little strangely when they've come to the shop," Janae said, trying to sort her feelings out. "When they seem really interested and then run away when I hint about a date, I start to worry that they wouldn't be interested in a relationship. Maybe they're just looking for a one-night stand? That's not for me. But because I'm afraid they'd think that, I don't want to make the first move. And I don't know who I'd make the first move with. I'd like to get to know them a little better. If one of them would ask me on a proper date, so I knew where we stood, I'd say yes. Then I could see if there were any sparks. But because both of them act so funny, I just stand here and make small talk about donuts."
“Being a girl sounds complicated,” said Digby.
The others laughed. The shop door opened and Amy ran over to her friend.
“I saw them coming and I just couldn’t resist.”
“Resist what?” asked Heather. “Something about the case?”
However, her question was soon answered as Detective Peters and Fire Frank entered the store. They seemed to race over to the counter.
“Hello, Janae,” Fire Frank said. “You look lovely today.”
Strawberries & Chocolate & Murder Page 5
