Maricela clapped her hands. Amy yawned, but not even a new car could have roused her when she was in one of her sleepy moods. The only person who didn’t seem happy was Ken.
“That’s awesome, boss,” Jung said, between button pushing at the coffee machine. “Whose wedding is it?”
“It’s not Col and Mona’s before you all get too excited. They’re still planning. But we are catering the dessert for a socialite wedding. I’ll give you the details after the party this weekend. Right now, I want us to focus on this week’s orders. We need to work like a team.”
“We always work like a team,” Ames said.
“True,” Heather said. “So basically, more of the same, and much quicker. Jung’s friend’s remake of the website has worked wonders. And next week the filing system is being replaced.”
All the little things she’d emailed Mr. Tombs about for added funding. Of course, her investor had been more than happy to help out. He thought Donut Delights was a gold mine.
The hiss of the coffee machine and the gurgle of a fresh brew cut off Heather’s thoughts. She tucked her hands into the front pouch of her Donut Delights apron and –
Her phone buzzed against her fingernails.
Heather’s heart skipped a beat. She fumbled the cell out – only one person would call at 5 am in the morning, and then, only for a really good reason.
“Shepherd,” she answered.
“Hey gorgeous,” Ryan said. “I’m still at home, before you have a panic attack about Lilly. But I did just get a call from the station.”
Heather waved for Ames to take over, then walked around to her office door. She opened it and slipped inside. “They got the DNA result back,” she said, and clicked her door closed behind her.
The wood muted the chatter of the assistants and the hissing machine.
“That’s right. You’ll never guess what they found,” Ryan said.
“Camilla was Sebastian’s long lost daughter. She had motive,” Heather replied, and crossed the fingers of her free hand.
“Nope. The opposite. She wasn’t related to him at all,” Ryan said. “I’ve got to get to work in a few hours and check out the new evidence. I think, with the fingerprints and DNA we got from Wyatt, we might be able to make another connection.”
“Another connection?” Heather asked.
“Yeah. I’ve got a feeling that Camilla Wyatt might be out of my jurisdiction,” Ryan said.
“Why’s that?”
“She’s not from Hillside, and when I checked her in our database, I didn’t find any convictions. But I’ve got a feeling about something. I think I need to call my buddy up in Houston. He might know –”
A knock clattered against the door and Heather leaped away from it. “Ugh, sorry, hon. Things are busy down here. I have to go.”
“No problem. I’ll call you when I’ve got more information.” Ryan clicked off the line.
What did it all mean? Why would he have to check anything with –
The door rattled in the frame. “Heather?” Ames’ called out on the other side. “Uh, someone’s here to see you. It’s that weird detective guy. The investigator, I mean.”
“Who?”
“Lemon,” a man yelled out. “Kelly Lemon. She’ll know who I am.”
Heather arched an eyebrow – why would he come down here at this time of the morning? “Let him in, Ames.”
The door opened and Amy stuck her head through the gap. “All right, but if he calls me Gal Pal one more time I might clock him in the jaw.”
“Easy.”
Lemon pushed into the office, past bewildered Amy, and halted just short of Heather. He crumpled his fedora between his hands. “Mrs. Shepherd,” he said. “I had to come. I had to come as soon as I could and I figured you’d be here.”
“What’s going on?” Heather asked, and crooked a finger at her best friends.
Ames’ shuffled inside and bumped the office door shut with her hip.
“It’s about my client. I mentioned her the last time we spoke,” Lemon said, and released his chokehold on the hat. He put it on his head, then swept it off again. The crumpling saga continued.
“Camilla Wyatt,” Heather said, evenly. “She’s not Sebastian’s daughter.”
“What – how do you know that?”
“Because her DNA didn’t check out.” Heather sat down in her high-backed leather chair. “What do you have to tell me about this client of yours.”
“I – I’ve been suspicious of her for a while,” Lemon replied. “She’s so – she’s reactionary. She’s screamed at me about the case a number of times. I realized she was up to something.”
“And what did you discover?”
“That she’s not here because she’s his daughter. I did my research on her. She’s a con-artist,” Lemon said. “I confronted her about it this morning, but she ran off right afterward.”
“Wait, what do you mean a con-artist?” Amy asked.
“This is what she does. She tries to swindle and extort money out of easy targets. I have no idea how she found Sebastian, but –”
Heather lifted her phone. “Do you know where she went?”
“No.” Lemon shook his head. “No I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Heather had dialed Ryan’s number before he finished the sentence.
Chapter 13
Amy and Heather stood in the center of Sebastian Holland’s living room, arm to arm. The windows were closed, curtains open, but Heather had clicked on the light anyway.
Clouds drifted on high outside, casting shadow on the view of the apartment building beside the Fierro building.
“I’m not sure how comfortable I am with investigating in a condemned building,” Amy said.
Heather dragged her teeth across her bottom lip. It still bothered her that the building had a demolition date, yet there were occupants. Ursula’s TV blared through the thin wall which separated Holland’s apart from hers.
“There’s got to be something here that will give us more information. Anything,” Heather said. It would have to be something obscure which the cops had missed during their investigation.
She strode past the dingy sofa and the flat screen TV, to the window. A simple, concrete and brick alleyway tracked along the side of the building. The blood which had been found had been sampled and cleaned.
They hadn’t gotten any tire tracks to compare to a car make, but Heather would’ve bet anything Camilla’s Escalade had done the job.
“What type of evidence are we looking for?” Ames asked, and chewed on her thumbnail. She stepped around the sofa and walked over to the bookcase in the corner.
Heather turned back to her friend. “Anything that might link Camilla to Sebastian. There’s got to be a reason she chose him for her con trick.”
“You still think the owner of the building has something to do with it,” Amy said, and squinted at the spines of the books, and the messy collection of notes and journals. “That Fierro guy.”
“Maybe,” Heather replied. “It’s a possibility I want to be prepared for. See anything there?”
Amy traced her fingers over the backs of the books. Dust drifted into the air, motes sparkling in the thin, watery rays of light which slanted through the window panes.
“Here’s something,” Ames said, and dragged on the end of a massive book. “It’s a journal.” She flipped it open and stared at the contents. “No, I’m wrong. It’s nothing.”
Heather walked to her bestie’s side and peered over her shoulder. “A maintenance and complaints logbook,” she said. “Can I see that?”
Ames handed it over.
Heather ran her fingers down the lines of writing, the dates and names. “Kevin Foster,” she said. “Kevin Foster again. Lots of complaints from Kevin. Page after page.” She flipped through.
“About what?”
“Damp. Dogs. Dripping roof. Mildew. Dogs,” Heather said, again. “Oh, here’s one from Ursula. Also about dogs.”
“
Seems the dogs were a point of irritation in the building,” Ames said.
“That would make sense given Ursula had a cat,” Heather replied. “But nothing here about Camilla Wyatt.”
Amy paced up and down in front of the bookcase. “Maybe he didn’t know her before this all started?”
Heather slapped the massive logbook shut, then tucked it under her left arm. “Maybe you’re right. I know how we can find out. Talk to the other residents. Remember, Ursula said she’d seen Camilla months before the murder. We should ask Kev about her too.”
“Yeah, then he can explain his complaints too,” Amy said. “I mean, I get it was damp, but surely he should’ve taken the complaints higher if the superintendent didn’t fix them?”
Heather shrugged and marched for the door. A clank by the mail cubbies caught her attention and she strode out into the hall.
Kevin Foster stood on his tiptoes peeking at the door to 1A. He flinched at the sight of Heather. “Oh, hello,” he said.
“No fishing today, Mr. Foster?” Heather asked.
He flinched again.
“Not today. Not the right weather for it,” he said.
Heather hefted the logbook and flipped it open. “Your name appears a lot in this,” she said. “The complaints logbook for the building, I mean.”
“Yeah, it does.” Kev shrugged and the shoulders of his trench coat hopped up and down. “There was a lot to complain about. This placing is basically falling apart. In fact, I’m going to move in a couple days.”
“So soon,” Amy said, and shut the door to 1B behind her.
“Yeah, as soon as possible. This place is condemned, in case you hadn’t heard. They’re probably going to have to airlift Miss Brown out of here, though.” Kev sniggered and his lips curled into a smile only a mother could love.
“That’s a cruel thing to say,” Heather said.
Kevin pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yeah, well, damp makes you cruel, I guess.”
Heather inhaled and calmed herself. She couldn’t let Kevin’s attitude distract her from the matter at hand. “Have you seen a young woman around here, recently? Black hair, short –”
“No,” he said, and far too quickly. “I haven’t seen anything or anyone.”
“Mr. Foster –”
“It’s Kev.” He shuffled his heavy boots, then turned and clunked back toward the stairs. “I’ve got to get upstairs. Start packing. Lots to do. See you around.”
Heather opened her mouth to argue him back down but Kevin Foster was on the landing. He disappeared around the corner.
“That was abrupt,” Amy said.
“My thoughts exactly.” Heather tucked the book back under her arm.
The scrape of a latch and the creak of a door drew their attention. Another of the residents had appeared. Ursula Brown poked her head out of the gap and smiled at them.
“Oh, I thought I heard talking. Is everything all right, Mrs. Shepherd?”
Chapter 14
“Miss Brown,” Heather said. “You heard us?”
“Yes. There’s a commercial break. I try to turn the TV down during the breaks, you know, in case those people try to sell me something,” Ursula replied, and the folds of skin around her mouth pulled back to reveal a smile, brimming with even white teeth.
“I see,” Heather said. “How have you been? You heard that the building is going to be torn down, I’m sure.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Ursula replied. “Nothing will happen. Nothing. I guarantee it.”
“Why do you think that?” Amy asked.
The two friends strolled across the worn carpet in the lobby and stopped in front of 1B.
Ursula opened the door a little wider and the familiar scent of cinnamon and apples drifted out. Did the woman bake compulsively? Heather couldn’t blame her. She loved making donuts so much, she did it in her spare time.
“Oh because the owner of the building won’t let it happen,” Ursula said.
“Mr. Fierro.”
“That’s the one.” Ursula wagged a finger. “Yes, oh yes, he wouldn’t let it happen. You see, they’ve sent some building inspectors before and each time they’ve threatened to tear the place down and each time Mr. Fierro makes sure they don’t. He won’t let them kick us out on the street.”
“And it was Mr. Fierro who hired Sebastian as the superintendent, right?” Heather asked and handed the logbook to Amy. She fumbled her tablet out of her tote bag, then unlocked the screen.
“That’s right. Mr. Fierro fired the last superintendent because of things like this,” Ursula said.
“Things like what?”
“Well, he never looked after the building. It fell into a state of disrepair, I believe he called it and then Mr. Fierro came down here and –”
“Wait,” Heather said, and lifted her palm. “Sorry to interrupt. You said Mr. Fierro came down here? When was this?”
“Oh, it was years ago, before Sebastian started here. He was hired after the last guy left. Mr. Fierro trusted him to fix up the building,” Ursula replied. “Or that’s what Sebastian said.”
“Did you ever meet Mr. Fierro?” Heather asked, and tapped through to her notes. She typed one handed – this information couldn’t wait until later.
“Me? Oh no, dear. I saw him in the lobby once but he looked so fancy in his suit,” Ursula said. “He was one of those types. The businessmen. Real power. He drove an Escalade.”
Heather’s heart skipped five beats instead of one. “An Escalade.”
“That’s right. Oh please don’t ask me for the registration number. I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to,” Ursula said, and gave them another of her special smiles.
Heather’s mind ticked over the facts, working them in every angle to try decipher the truth. Mr. Fierro had had an Escalade and he’d had trouble with superintendents before.
Camilla Wyatt was a con-woman. She had an Escalade.
There had to be a connection there.
“Is she all right?” Ursula whispered to Amy.
“She’s fine. She’ll be with you in a moment,” Ames replied.
Heather snapped out of her reverie and focused on Ursula. She had to investigate every avenue, not just the ones she preferred. “And you liked Sebastian Holland?”
“Well, yes,” Ursula replied. “His dogs could be annoying. Oh don’t get me wrong, they were sweethearts, but the constant yapping could get under the skin.”
“Is that why you turned up your TV?” Amy asked.
“You could say that,” Ursula replied. “And my hearing isn’t what it used to be.” She shrugged her chubby shoulders under her woolen sweater. “Why do you ask?”
“We figured you complained about the dogs barking because of your cat,” Heather said. “I have both a dog and a cat, and I have to say it was tricky getting them to live in harmony at first.”
“A cat,” Ursula said, and wrinkled her button nose. “That’s wonderful for you, dear, but I am not a cat person.”
“You’re not?” Amy asked. “Then why on earth did you get a cat?”
“What cat?” Ursula looked from Heather to Amy and then back again. “You’re confusing me. Did Sebastian have a cat?”
“No, you had a cat,” Amy replied. “At least, that’s what the guy upstairs told us.”
“No, no, I don’t have a cat. Hate the things. All right, hate is a strong word, but I certainly wouldn’t keep one as a pet.” Ursula shuffled forward a few steps, eyes sharp as tacks. “They eat you, you know.”
“They what?” Heather asked, blinking continuously. This was a lot of information to process.
“Cats. After you die. They eat you.” Ursula waved over her shoulder at the noise from the living room. “I saw it on TV once. Cats eating their owners after their death. Disgusting.”
Amy shuddered. “Cupcake better keep her distance.”
“You brought cupcakes?” Ursula asked and perked up.
This would go nowhere fast if they didn’t narrow down t
heir line of questioning. “Miss Brown, could you tell us more about the woman you saw here? The one with the blue-black hair.”
“Oh yes, the gothic looking girl.” Ursula’s double chin wobbled while she spoke. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to add to that. She came here twice that I knew of and she also drove a fancy Escalade car. Maybe she was friends with Mr. Fierro. She certainly knew Sebastian well, since she visited him.”
Heather’s mind whirled like the inside of a mixer – and her brain was the fondant. Gosh, she had to figure this out before it was too late.
Ursula jolted and checked her watch. “Goodness! My next show’s about to start. I’ve got to go. Thanks for the chat.” She slapped the door shut in their faces before Heather could say another word.
Amy clutched the complaints logbook to her chest and stared at Ursula Brown’s apartment door, and the peeling paint around the number 1. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Heather said, and clicked off her tablet’s screen. “I think –” She shook her head and slipped the Lenovo back into her handbag.
“Any day now.”
“I think I need to go for a walk and think this over,” Heather said.
“Agreed. Then we can head back to the store and get a donut,” Amy replied, and perked up.
Chapter 15
“Miracles do happen,” Heather said, and adjusted her grip on Dave’s plain, green leash. He trotted down the sidewalk ahead of her, his tail wagging from side-to-side. It’d been such a hectic week, they’d hardly gotten the opportunity to walk the animals.
Ames laughed and flicked Cupcake’s magenta leash, lightly. The kitten meowed once, and didn’t try to scratch her.
“What did you do, apologize?” Heather asked.
“I might have. She’s a good kitty,” Amy said, then lowered her tone to a whisper. “And I couldn’t take being climbed like a tree, anymore.”
Heather chuckled, but the mirth died a couple seconds later. They walked toward the park, away from Donut Delights and the other stores which decorated the streets in the area.
Birthday Sprinkle Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 37 Page 5
