Peanut Butter Fudge Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 30

by Susan Gillard

  “No, it’s okay. I just wanted to help protect her, but the knife arrived too late. And I fetched it anyway because this place isn’t safe. It’s not safe, Mrs. Shepherd,” Carla said, and trembled again.

  “It’s not that bad,” Amy said, and stared out of the window at the apartment building opposite. Heather followed her line of sight. Gray hard lines and empty windows greeted them.

  “Do you have an alibi for the time of Miss Brookes’ murder, Carla?”

  “Sure. I was in the locker room changing into my uniform. The workshop was about to end, anyway, and it’s my job to clean,” Carla said, with confidence.

  “Is there anyone who can corroborate that?”

  That confidence seeped out of Carla and puddled on the floor beneath her feet. “I – uh, no. No, I was in there alone. But someone must’ve seen me go in. Someone in the hall.”

  Heather typed that in too. She’d have to ask Ryan to follow up on the alibi, because she certainly didn’t have the resources to phone the folks who’d been at the workshop.

  “Look, you have to believe me,” she said. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly and I certainly wouldn’t hurt Julie. She was my role model. My role model.” Carla clasped her hands in front of her chest and wiggled the back and forth.

  Heather locked her tablet screen. “I think that’s all I need for now, Miss Giotto. Thank you for your time.”

  “I’ll do anything to help.” Carla’s façade crumpled into tears. “Anything to figure out who hurt Julie.”

  Chapter 15

  Heather scanned her notes on the Lenovo tablet and squished back in her high-backed chair in the office of Donut Delights. She exhaled through gritted teeth. The evidence didn’t add up.

  “It’s bizarre,” she whispered. “It’s by far the most bizarre case I’ve ever investigated.”

  “Talking to yourself is a sign of madness,” Amy said and stuck her head around the door. “May I come in? As a preventative measure, of course.”

  “You do realize you make me crazier than I already am,” Heather replied.

  Amy ignored the jibe and strode into the office. She kicked the door shut with her heel, then twisted her scarf free of her neck. The puffy jacket poked out from underneath her Donut Delights apron.

  Heather locked the screen of her tablet again. She leaned her elbows either side of it, and her eyelids drooped. Man, she could’ve slept for a week. This case had frazzled what was left of her brain after a tedious year.

  Amy plonked down in the seat in front of the desk. “Do you think it’s Carla?” Amy asked. “I’m not sure I bought her whole gun-fearing, Julie-loving diatribe.”

  Heather placed her fists beneath her chin and exhaled through her nose. “For once, I’m actually not sure. Maybe my sleuthin’ gene has decided to take a vacation, but I can’t feel my way through this one.”

  “I don’t get any of it. Larry was supposedly in love with Julie. Carla adored Julie. If everybody loved Julie so much, why is she dead?” Amy asked, and tucked a yawn behind her palm.

  She’d been through the worst of it with Heather. She had to be tired, too.

  “Someone who didn’t like Julie because everyone else loved her so much?” Heather asked, and scratched her right temple with her nail. “Ugh, this would be much easier if I had some hard evidence to work with. Fingerprints. Anything.”

  “Okay, well, let’s think about this for a sec,” Amy said. “We’ve got someone who stabbed Larry’s heart meat package thing every week. Carla bought a knife. And now, Larry is being stalked by somebody with the ivory hilt knife. Which could be Carla. Or it could be someone else, entirely.”

  Heather exhaled through her nostrils again. “For heaven’s sake. Could this be any weirder?”

  “We have to stalk Larry,” Amy said, and clapped her hands together.

  “Oh, oh, I stand corrected.” Heather couldn’t help but laugh at her bestie. “You can’t be serious, Ames. The poor dude is frazzled already. I think he’ll have a breakdown if we stalk him.”

  “Oh shush,” Amy said and flapped her hands. “I’m serious. Think about it, Heather. He’s clearly the next target for the killer. If we follow him, or case out his house or whatever, we’ll find out who’s after him.”

  Heather edged forward in her seat. “That’s an idea,” she said. “Actually, yeah, that could work really well.”

  “Well? What are we waiting for?” Amy asked, and hopped to her feet.

  Heather checked her filigree watch. “The end of the day,” she replied. “I highly doubt we’ll get anything but an eyeful of meat, right now.”

  “I guess,” Amy said, and sighed. “I just wish we could get this case over with so I could start looking forward to roasted chestnuts.”

  “Always thinking of your stomach,” Heather said. She picked up her cell off the corner of her desk pad, then swiped to unlock.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need to check something with Ryan,” she said and dialed his number. She raised her finger to prevent Amy’s imminent interruptions.

  The phone rang twice. A click. “Detective Shepherd,” he said, in a gravelly tone which spoke of too much fatigue and too little coffee.

  “Hey hon, it’s me,” she said. “Amy and I were shooting a few options around, and we figured we’d got check out Larry’s house, this evening. Do you know where he lives?”

  “Sure,” Ryan said. “He lives above the butchery.”

  “Houston’s Meats?” Heather asked, then rolled her eyes at herself. Which other butchery would Ryan have referred to?

  “That’s the one,” Ryan replied. “Wait, do you know something I don’t?”

  “Not yet. We spoke to Carla, and she fed us a lot of emotion and a story about needing protection,” Heather said. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any information back on the fingerprints?”

  “Nope. Total silence from the lab. And it’s a Friday, so you know what that means,” he said.

  “Waiting until Monday?” Heather asked. Ugh, no way could they wait that long for an answer. “Is there any way to expedite the process?”

  “I don’t think so, love,” Ryan said. He drank something on the other end of the line. “Honey, are you sure you want to continue with this case?”

  “What? Of course,” she replied, though a second of doubt delayed her words. She glanced out of the window and focused on the bare trees in the distance. They’d shed their fall coats long ago.

  “I just don’t want you to tire yourself out, right before Christmas,” Ryan said.

  “This is what I love to do.” Heather smiled, softly. At least, she had a husband who cared enough to bring something like this up. “Thanks, hon, but I’m determined to figure this out before the weekend hits.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Amy whispered, and raised a victory fist.

  “All right,” he replied. “Just be careful. Call me if you spot anything suspicious over there.”

  “Lilly’s at Eva’s tonight,” Heather said. “Along with the daring duo, right?”

  “That’s right. I’ll drop her off there after school.”

  “Great,” she replied. “Love you.”

  He smooched the phone, then hung up.

  “He lives above the butchery?” Amy asked. “Gosh, that’s got to be a horrific place to live. Imagine sleeping above a whole bunch of –”

  “Stop. My stomach can’t handle anymore this week. I’m on the cusp of vegetarianism.” Heather brushed off her apron and rose from her office chair. It squeaked from the shift in pressure.

  “So, stake out tonight,” Amy said.

  “It’s a date,” Heather replied, and that determination seeped through her again.

  The case would be solved, no matter how strange it was. She hadn’t failed yet and she didn’t plan on starting now.

  Chapter 16

  Darkness embraced the horizon and the building in the street. The Houston’s Meat sign glared at them by the light of a lamppost. Bright orange.
Ludicrous in its demand for their attention.

  The ‘o’ had been replaced by a cartoon steak.

  “Boy, when I said stake out, I pictured an exciting evening with my bestie,” Amy said and lay her head back on the headrest in her car. “But this is just boring.”

  She’d let Heather drive this time around. “Gee thanks. We’ve only been waiting,” she said, and cut off to check the time, “two hours.”

  “What?! That’s entire Jurassic Park,” Amy said.

  Heather sat back and drummed her thumbs against the sides of the steering wheel. The front door of the butchery was locked up tight, but the window hadn’t been repaired.

  A black plastic bag flick-flacked in the wind, drawn out into a taut skin, then bounced back and wrinkled by another Hillside breeze.

  Lights shone from a window upstairs. Ol’ Lar was still awake, no doubt stricken by the thought of another break-in.

  “Funny,” Heather said. “He lives right around the corner from Julie.”

  “Yeah, I thought that too. Easy access. Oh, but wait, she was murdered at the Gingerbread Workshop.” Amy stifled a yawn. “Gosh, never in my life did I think I’d talk about someone being murdered like it was yesterday’s lunch.”

  “That’s an unpleasant visual,” Heather replied.

  “Donuts and –”

  “Someone’s coming,” Heather hissed and sank in the driver’s seat until just the top of her head peered over the door.

  A woman, shrouded in a long black cloak, rushed toward the door. No, she bypassed that and stopped in front of the black plastic bag instead.

  “She’s breaking in.” Amy gasped.

  Heather pressed a finger to her lips, gaze glued to the intruder. The silhouette and the half-light shrouded her, except for one quick flash of color.

  Red.

  “I know who it is,” Heather said, immediately.

  “Who?”

  Heather didn’t answer. She worked her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed Ryan’s number immediately. She pressed the phone to her ear.

  The woman raised her hand and tore the plastic bag down.

  Two rings passed.

  She hopped through the open window, spry as a goat, and disappeared within.

  “Detective Shepherd,” he answered, at last.

  “The killer’s here, at Larry’s place. She’s just entered the store, and she’s on her way upstairs.”

  “This is bad,” Amy whispered. “We should get out of here.”

  “Get out of there,” Ryan said. “I’m on my way.”

  “I’m sorry, hon, but I can’t do that. I’m going in.”

  “Heather, no!” He yelled.

  “If I don’t go in, Larry might die. We don’t know what the killer will do in the time it takes you to get here. I’ll be fine. I promise.” She hung up to cut off any rebuttal on his part.

  She didn’t need the added pressure now. Every nerve-ending in Heather’s body tingled. Her sleuthin’ gene fired over time to make up for its sensory silence the entire week.

  “Please tell me you’re joking,” Amy said.

  “Not even a little bit,” Heather replied. “Stay in the car.”

  “I can’t let you go in there alone,” Amy hissed. “What if she does something to you?”

  “I won’t be alone,” Heather replied, and whipped the Taser out of her bag. She checked the charge and zapped the air in the interior of the car.

  The buzzing clicks forced Amy back against the door. “You’re intimidating with that thing.”

  “Good,” Heather replied, “I need every advantage I can get. If I’m not out in the next ten minutes, uh – l” What could she tell her bestie to do? Call the cops? She’d already done that.

  “Heather, don’t say stuff like that,” Amy whined.

  “If I’m not out in ten minutes, don’t follow me in. Okay?” Heather winked at her best friend in the world.

  She opened the car door and entered the night. Her gaze flicked to the meat ‘o’ in the Houston’s Meat sign. “Here I come,” she whispered, to the darkness.

  “Look out world,” Amy echoed, in support.

  Chapter 17

  Heather crept across the linoleum inside the butchery, heart pounding in her ears. Scrapes and clangs rang out from upstairs, and the hint of a shout came next. A man’s voice, followed by the muffled argument from a woman.

  The last time she’d heard that Julie had died because she hadn’t acted in time.

  Heather wouldn’t fall into that trap two times in a row.

  She reached the stairs in the corner of the butchery and grasped the railing. She let go and grimaced. “Greasy,” she muttered.

  Heather stalked up the stairs, careful to make as little noise as possible. Perhaps, it didn’t matter.

  The two upstairs screeched at each other. They wouldn’t have noticed if a car hit the front of the building, never mind an overly ambitious sleuth on the stairs.

  “You’re out of your mind!” Larry yelled.

  Heather reached the top of the stairs and hovered in the hall. The argument drifted toward her from the kitchen. The corner of the fridge peered out from the open doorway, and a glass screamed across the room and shattered against it.

  “Stop!” Larry’s voice oscillated between anger and fear. “Stop right now. I’ll call the cops if you don’t stop. What on earth is the matter with you?”

  The woman appeared beside the fridge. Heather shrank back, but Penny Childe didn’t notice her in the shadows. The redhead's gaze was all about Larry.

  “You know why I’m here,” she said. She reached into her pocket and brought out a picture. She showed it to Larry, who was out of Heather’s sight range, then flicked it to the floor.

  “You’re the one who’s been stabbing the meat deliveries,” Larry said. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  Penny ruffled her short red hair. “I can’t believe you haven’t figured it out.”

  “What? Is it because of the rotten meat? I swear I didn’t mean to serve you rotten meat, Miss Childe.”

  “Penny!” She roared. “My name is Penny.” Her anger dropped off, but her chest rose and fell at a rapid rate. Too many breaths per minute, on the verge of hyperventilation.

  Larry wasn’t the only one in a flat panic.

  “Look, I’ll give you free meat. As much as you want. Just get out of my house,” Larry said.

  “There wasn’t any rotten meat. That was an excuse.”

  “An excuse for what?” Larry asked. “To torture me and threaten my business?” The overweight butcher stormed into view. He glared into Penny’s eyes. “I’ve had enough. I’m calling Detective Shepherd.”

  “Don’t you see?” Penny grasped him by the shoulders and dug her fingernails into his flesh. “Everything I’ve done has been for us. Only for us.”

  “Us?” Larry asked, and his eyes widened to donuts. “Us? What us?”

  “Me and you. Us. I love you, Larry. I’ve always loved you,” Penny said. “I warned that Julie woman about coming between us, but she didn’t listen. So I did what I had to do.”

  “What? What? No.” Larry struggled against her grip and pried himself free. “You’re c-crazy.” His anger disappeared. “You’ve got to be kidding. This is some kind of sick joke.”

  “Not as sick as meat cut into hearts,” Penny growled. “Why couldn’t you have done something for me? You ignored me every time I came into the store, because of stupid Julie and her stupid Workshop.”

  Jealousy hadn’t made Penny nasty, it had transformed her into a monstrosity.

  “I didn’t know,” Larry said. “You killed her? You killed her because of me?”

  “She was in our way. I won’t let anyone stand in our way. This is true love,” Penny said.

  “No,” Larry replied. “I’m not interested in you. I’m calling the police. You’re going to get arrested.”

  “What?” Penny clenched her fists at her sides. “You’re rejecting me? Our love?”
<
br />   “Crazy,” Larry said and gripped his head in both hands. “Can’t be real. Crazy.”

  “You don’t want me, even though she’s gone?” Penny blinked, and her eye twitched. “Then you’re useless too.” She drew a knife out of her pocket. A switchblade. She flicked it open, and the silver blade glinted beneath the fluorescent lights in Larry’s kitchen.

  Heather darted down the hall and brought her Taser up. Something forced her out of the way. A gentle shove. She bounced against the wall and let out a shocked ‘oomph.’

  “Freeze,” a man yelled.

  Not any man. Her man. Her husband had arrived, and he’d shoved her aside to ensure she didn’t get hurt.

  He stood in the middle of the hallway, weapon aimed at Penny Childe. The woman’s furious demeanor disappeared, instantly. She dropped the knife, and it clattered to the tiles.

  “Office, I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I was just –”

  “She k-killed Julie,” Larry said and tugged at his hair. “She killed her.”

  “I know,” Ryan said, in his placid detective’s voice.

  “You know?” Penny asked she bent toward the knife.

  “Don’t move,” Ryan repeated and took a single step forward.

  It was enough to stop the crazy red-head in her tracks. Heather exhaled her relief in a thin stream of air.

  Ryan unhooked his handcuffs from his belt.

  Penny Childe’s face contorted. Her eyes screwed up, and her mouth dropped open in a strange rendition of The Scream by Edvard Munch. “No,” she wailed, and tears tracked down her cheeks. “I only wanted him to love me.”

  Heather pushed herself upright and placed her fists on her hips. She stared at the spoiled brat, Penny Childe. “Love doesn’t kill,” she said.

  The rhetoric did nothing to stop Penny’s tantrum.

  Chapter 18

  The fire crackled in the grate and Lilly sat in front of it, holding her stick. She turned it in a circle and roasted the marshmallow in its end. Dave sat on her right and Cupcake on her left, both staring at the spectacle.

  “Another case solved,” Ryan said, and slipped his arm around Heather’s shoulders. “What a relief.”