Heather patted Geoff on the shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Whoever killed her is to blame.”
“Yeah,” he said, and that was all. He got up and shuffled to the rock, then crouched beside it. He pressed two fingers to his lips, then placed them on the carving.
“Goodbye, Jelly,” he whispered.
Chapter 10
Geoff traipsed off into the darkness of the park, heading back towards the road, his heavy footfalls ringing in Heather’s ears.
“Wow,” she whispered because she didn’t have a better word for what’d just happened or to describe how it’d felt for her.
Geoff’s atmosphere had been heavy. He was eaten up by blame, yet he hadn’t truly had anything to do with Jelly’s death. Or so it seemed. But he had been in the store when she’d died.
Surely, he would’ve heard the commotion in the front of the store.
“He didn’t hear me calling his name, though,” Heather said, then buried her face in her hands. A total fail, since she still had the Taser. It smashed into her nose, and she yelped and snapped it back from her face.
Geoff was long gone, the park was quiet, but Heather didn’t want to leave. Instead, she took out her cell phone, switched on the flashlight app and aimed it at the stone buried in the dirt.
Poor Jelly had clearly been madly in love. But why had her father refused to let her see the man she loved?
Heather tucked the Taser into her handbag, then rose from the bench and walked back to the path which led to the back gate. She’d parked her car around the corner, just in case. She’d walk and mull the case over. Yeah, that’d help her figure it out.
Heather strode out of the park and down the sidewalk, keeping a steady pace and clutching her bag to her side. “Why?” She asked, out loud.
Pops couldn’t be that overbearing, could he? So far, the only people who had any motivation to hurt Jelly were members of her close family and her high school sweetheart.
That didn’t bode well. They all seemed like unlikely suspects, but if Heather’s past cases had taught her anything, it was never to rule out anyone. People had the strangest motivations for –
She turned the corner and stopped in her tracks.
A police cruiser sat behind her car, light flashing. Detective Davidson stalked around her car, shining a light on the seats and bending to examine the door handles, carefully.
“May I help you?” Heather asked, loudly.
The officer didn’t jump or spin around to face her. He straightened slowly, ran a hand over the top of his head, and then shone the light in her eyes.
She shielded her gaze for the second time that night. “Officer?”
“That’s Detective, Mrs. Shepherd. I’m going to need you to come down to the station with me,” he said, clicking off the light and stowing it in a hidden pouch or pocket.
“What for?” Heather asked.
“I’ve got a warrant out for your arrest, Mrs. Shepherd. That’s what for.”
Heather’s head practically dropped off her shoulders. The world spun around her, the stars blurring into stripes overhead. “Wha - ?”
Detective Davidson walked to her side and gazed into her face. “Mrs. Shepherd? Can you hear me?” He touched her arm, lightly, concern twisting his features into an unrecognizable mask.
“I’m fine,” she managed. Heather forced herself back to calm through sheer will. “What are the charges?”
“Trespassing. Mr. Polinski called us and reported that he’d seen you trespassing on his property this evening and that you tried to break into his trailer,” Davidson replied, evenly.
“That’s impossible. I was in the park with Geoff.”
Davidson, who happened to be a good friend of Ryan’s and in the same department, raised both dark eyebrows. “Geoff Lawless?”
“Not like that,” she replied, shaking her head. “I, uh, I can’t –”
“You can explain it at the station,” Davidson said and grasped her upper arm. “This way please.”
She wrenched it from his grip. “You don’t understand.”
“Mrs. Shepherd, either you come peacefully and take a ride in the back of my car, or I whip my cuffs out, and you take a ride in the back of my car. So, what’s it going to be? Free hands or not?”
Heather bit the side of her lip. “I’ll come,” she said, at last.
Davidson didn’t react – kinda like he’d expected her to do what he wanted – and led her to his car. He opened the back door, and she got in, guts twisting into a lumpy ball of sourdough.
The drive to the station took a couple of minutes at best, but it flashed by in a matter of seconds. Did Ryan know about the warrant? He couldn’t, or he would’ve warned her about it via text.
Davidson parked, got out and helped Heather out of the car, then walked her into the station and to a room at the end of the hall. He opened the door, let her in, and sat her down at a plain steel table.
“I’ll be back in a moment. Would you like a glass of water?”
“Please,” she said.
He disappeared, and Heather drummed her heels on the floor, resting her palms on the table. This was the strangest experience of her life, including the time she’d been accosted by paparazzi in Paris.
It was surreal. She wasn’t meant to be on this side of the law. Her heart pounded in her ears. Cold sweat ran down the back of her neck.
The door opened, and Davidson entered, carrying two steaming cups. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought coffee instead.”
“Thank you,” she replied, taking the cup from him and sipping the warm, brown liquid. “Playing it fast and loose with the word coffee, though.”
Davidson chuckled and placed his Styrofoam cup on the table. “So, Heather, let’s talk.”
“All right,” she said. “I wasn’t anywhere Pops Polinski’s trailer. I haven’t been there since a couple of days ago, when he had a yard sale, and I’d have no reason to go back, especially at this time of the night.”
Davidson nodded. “I know. I believe Pops lied about the accusations. I was sitting in the cruiser across the street from your car when I got the call. It would’ve been impossible for you to be in the park and out at Pops’ place at the same time.”
“Then why did you bring me in?” Heather asked, relief shuddering through her chest, regardless.
“Because I need you to realize something, Heather,” Davidson said, sounding a lot like her husband. “You need to stay out of the way, or you will end up back here again. Interfering with the course of justice is a serious offense.”
“I know,” she said, in a small voice. She’d been about to tell him about Geoff Lawless, but it seemed that it’d only end up landing her in more trouble. “I just –”
“Don’t you trust us to do our jobs?” Davidson asked.
“It’s not that.” She could investigate where they couldn’t. She had the leads that they couldn’t follow.
“Then stick to being a civilian and leave the cop work to use,” he said. He pushed his chair back and gestured to the door. “You’re free to go. Your husband is waiting for you outside.”
“Oh boy,” Heather said.
Chapter 11
“What did Ryan say?” Amy asked, walking beside her. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, and the besties had decided to take advantage of the weather and go for a famed Dave ‘de-donut’ walk.
“Honestly,” Heather replied, “He didn’t say much. He never does when this kind of case crops up. The last time he had to investigate a case which involved me, he kept his distance until after my name was cleared.”
“Why?”
“I guess he doesn’t want to pervert the course of justice. I totally get it. He’s career-driven, and neither of us wants to jeopardize each other in that area.” Heather flicked Dave’s leash up and down to get him to pick up the pace.
She’d caught Maricela feeding Dave a donut on the front porch the other day. Both had received a stern scolding.
“He kn
ows I wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he has to investigate. That’s a concept I’m familiar with.” Heather sighed and waved a fly away from her nose. “So, we didn’t talk much. We just had a cup of tea, then went up to bed and slept. He wasn’t cold or off with me, either. He acted totally normal, and that was what made me feel super guilty.”
“You can’t stop investigating, though,” Amy said, turning the corner and clicking her fingers for them to follow. She’d told them she had a new route to walk, and Heather had agreed, Dave had been less enthusiastic in his acquiescence.
“I have to, Ames. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. There were rules to this whole, consultant investigator thing, and I keep breaking them. It’s like I can’t help myself.”
“Yes, but there’s always a reason. It’s not like you go out of your way to break the rules. People just come to you for help. What are you supposed to do, turn them away?” Amy screwed up her face like the idea was ludicrous.
“Probably. That’s what Ryan thinks I should do.”
“But that’s not you. Asking you to do that is asking you not to be who you are. You’re Heather, you help people, you make awesome donuts, you solve crimes,” Amy said, ticking the points off on her fingers in typical Amy style.
“I guess, but if that’s the case, then I have to come to terms with the consequences. I could get arrested if I do the wrong thing. I very well could pervert the course of justice. Is that a chance I should take?”
“Yes,” Amy replied, a kneejerk response. She paused and held out a palm. “Heather, if it weren’t for you, a lot of these cases would go unsolved or would have the wrong person behind bars.”
Heather shrugged, and Dave plunked his cute butt on the sidewalk and scratched beneath his collar. “I guess.”
“Good.” Amy said, then pointed at a building on the other side of the street. “Then you’re not allowed to get mad at me for bringing you here.”
Heather looked at the sign which hung on above the door and pursed her lips.
South Bosque Bait and Tackle.
“Shall we?” Amy asked, holding out her arm to provide an escort.
“Ames,” Heather said, then sighed and slipped her arm through her friend’s. They strode across the street, then stopped outside.
Amy took Dave’s leash and walked him up and down in front of the store. “We’ll be waiting,” she said and flashed a dazzling smile.
Heather straightened her spine, then touched the glass front door and pushed it inwards. Immediately, she was enveloped in strange scents. Not fish, but something like it. Maybe that was bait?
Heather had no clue when it came to fishing.
A man stood behind the counter, leaning on it with one elbow, reading a magazine. The centerfold showed a blond man, grinning broadly, and hefting a massive fish on the end of a line.
“Hello?” Heather said.
The man jumped into the air and came down with a crash, his belly wobbling beneath his checked shirt. “Holy holes, lady, you scared the coffee outta me.”
“Sorry,” Heather said, and hurried towards the counter, eying the rows of fishing poles and strange doohickeys collected in plastic trays.
“Can I help you with somethin’?” He asked. His name tag proclaimed: Roger ‘Mudd’ Rivers in bold print.
“Yeah, thanks, Mr. Rivers,” Heather said.
“Call me Mudd,” he replied, and they shook on it. His hands were rough but clean, with neatly trimmed nails. “What can I get for ya? No offense, but you don’t strike me as the fishin’ type.”
Heather laughed and glanced around at the inside of the store. “You could say I’m a little out of my depth. But I didn’t come to talk to you about fishing, fortunately. I wanted to talk to you about Jelly Polinski. Did you know her?”
Mudd’s open expression folded inwards. His brows crumpled into anger. “Oh yeah, what about her?”
“I take it you knew her?”
“Oh, I knew her all right. She was my employee. Good riddance.”
Heather tipped her head forward and widened her eyes.
“Now, don’t get me wrong or nothin’, I wouldn’t wish ill on her or anyone else, but she sure knew how to make a nuisance of herself. More than a nuisance.” Mudd sniffed and shut his magazine. He rolled it into a cylinder, then patted his palm with it.
“What did she do?”
“Stole from me for one,” he replied. “She had a screw loose up in that head of hers.” He twirled his finger next to his temple.
“What did she steal?” Heather asked. Boy, Jelly didn’t have a good track record with the whole thievery deal. “Money?”
“Nope,” Mudd replied, then bent and took a bottle out from beneath the counter. He slapped it down and opened his palm. “Quantum Hot Sauce. Best I got.”
“She stole hot sauce?” Heather asked, eying the bottle.
“Heck no, we don’t stock hot sauce. This is fishing reel oil, best brand on the market, too. It’s not expensive, neither, only $9.99. Don’t get why she’d want to steal it. Her old man and sister bought a lot of fishing line from me. They could’ve just added it to their bill if they wanted.”
Heather picked up the bottle and examined it, swishing the bright red fluid back and forth. Fishing reel oil and fishing line. Could Jelly’s stealing habits be connected to her murder somehow?
“Did you say Plum Polinski bought fishing line too?” Heather asked.
“That’s right,” he said. “Look, are you a cop or somethin’? Only, I expected one of you to turn up here sooner than this to ask around.”
“I’m not a cop. I’m just inquisitive,” Heather said. She smiled at Mudd and placed the oil back on the counter. “Thanks for your time, Mudd. Feel free to pop into Donut Delights any time and I’ll hook you up with a couple of treats.”
“Oh, I will do, I will do,” he said, then unrolled his magazine and returned to reading.
The cops hadn’t come to talk to Mudd yet, and he was a legitimate lead as the owner of the only store in town which stocked the fishing line which had been used to murder Jelly.
Heather strode from the bait and tackle shop, a new sense of determination burning in her soul.
Chapter 12
Heather sat in the office, laptop perched on top of her blotter, staring at the screen in disbelief.
“Honestly, Ken, these are gorgeous. You have a real talent for photography.” Heather clicked through to a photo of the Chocolate Revolution Donuts, the cream and chocolate shavings highlighted in startling clarity.
“Thank you,” Ken said, the apples of his cheeks reddening. “But with this topic matter, how could I fail?”
“Now it’s my turn to blush,” Heather replied. “The site is going to look perfect with these photos up. Now, if only I could get my recipe book back from the police, we’d be set.”
“Ugh, that must be super frustrating,” Ken said, then clicked the flash drive out of the laptop and tucked it into his top pocket. “I’m going to refine these photos, get them retina-ready for the website. We should be ready to launch soon.”
“I am paying you overtime for this, right?” Heather asked.
“Yeah,” Ken said, then chuckled. “But even if you weren’t, I’d still do it. I think I’ve found my passion.” He patted the top of his camera and headed for the door. “But now, I’d better get back to some baking. There are hungry folks out there.”
Heather waved goodbye and stared at the now blank screen of her laptop. Mondays were the busiest at Donut Delights, for sure. People needed a sweet treat to tide them over during the long hours at work, and the Pistachio Lemon Glazed’s were a hit.
The combination of nutty, sour and sweet, brought the customers in, in droves. Even Mudd Rivers had paid her a visit, earlier in the morning.
Heather sighed, images of fish reel oil and thin fishing line swimming through her brain, messing up the placid waters she tried to maintain at all times. Something felt wrong about this case.
&
nbsp; Four suspects and none of them seemed likely to be murderers to her. The Polinski’s were family, Geoff had felt for Jelly and Mudd, well, he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. Angry but amused at Jelly’s stealing, rather than anything else.
Heather tapped her finger on the mouse pad and opened her email.
She did have a lot to organize with the web designer, Dax, and it was good to expand the business. Liaising with Dax would take her mind off things, allow the sleuthing cogs to click along at their own pace and work the problem out by themselves.
Her inbox filled up in increments.
Heather’s eyes widened.
BACK OFF.
That was the subject line of an email from Geoff Lawless. She clicked on it to open and skimmed through the contents.
Stop sticking your nose ware you shouldn’t. Don’t come nere me, the park or my new store, ever agen. Or else.
Heather scratched her head, two facts popping to mind. Firstly, Geoff was a terrible speller. The other? He might have more motive than she’d realized. Perhaps that chat in the park had been a fake out, after all.
Heather clicked a couple of buttons, then forwarded the email directly to Ryan Shepherd at the Hillside police department. If that didn’t get their attention, what would?
She needed to chat to him about the case. Date night was long overdue, as well, but until her alibi had cleared at the station, he’d continue being distant. He didn’t need her interference, yet.
A text buzzed on her cell, and she unlocked the screen.
Meet you tonight at Horton’s. I love you.
Heather grinned. That could only mean good news.
Chapter 13
Horton’s served the best burgers in the entire state of Texas, hands down, no competition, thank you very much. Juicy burger patties draped between two flat buns, soft as clouds, and layered in secret sauce, bacon, cheese, juicy tomato and crisp lettuce.
“I can’t deal with how good this is,” Heather said, around a mouthful of heaven and hope.
Pistachio Lemon Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery- Book 12 (Donut Hole Mystery) Page 4
