Caramel Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 19

by Susan Gillard

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  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2016 by Guardian Publishing Group - All rights reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 1

  The donut sat in the center of the plain white plate, glistening beneath the downlights in Donut Delights. Caramel dripped from its fluffy dough base and gathered in a golden brown pool beneath it.

  “This is your best one yet,” Eva Schneider said. She swept her gnarled finger through the caramel drippings, then lifted it to her lips. “Oh, delicious. I’m almost afraid to take a bite. I know I’ll get addicted.”

  “I guess, I wanted to celebrate this week,” Heather replied, then sat down at Eva’s favorite table at the front of the store. “Only two more weeks and the store reopens, bigger and better than before. I hope.”

  “Of course, it will be better,” Eva replied. She picked up the donut and caramel glaze dribbled down the sides. “Excuse me, dear, but I must have a bite.”

  Heather grinned and dipped her chin downward. The purpose of her donuts was just this: to make people happy. Especially, people like Eva Schneider. The woman deserved all the happiness in the world.

  Eva took a massive bite. She chewed, and her eyes lit up. “How did you get the caramel inside?” She asked.

  “Injected it with syringes. They’re my masterpieces,” Heather replied. “Based on an old recipe from my grandmother’s book.”

  “And they might give you diabetes if you eat too many of them.” Amy strode toward them, a Donut Delights apron tied around her waist.

  “I can believe that,” Eva replied, but took another big bite, regardless. She drummed her heels on the golden boards and sighed.

  Heather rose from her seat and met her best friend’s gaze. “I get the feeling that you didn’t come out here to warn Eva about potential sugar overload.”

  “Astute as ever,” Amy said and stuck out her tongue. “We got another order. It’s a big one.”

  “How big?”

  “Two hundred donuts for an event in Dallas. And there’s a hint that they might order more,” Amy replied, then looped her arm through Heather’s aside. “And get this, the order is for a gaming convention.”

  “A what?”

  “You know, gaming. PC, Xbox, PlayStation, that kind of thing,” Amy replied, then roll her eyes. “The only games I play are the hidden object kind.”

  “They have conventions for games?” Heather asked, and scratched her temple. “Who would’ve thought?”

  “Plenty of people. It’s kind of a big deal. Gamers come from everywhere to meet up and play or compete, or do whatever it is that they do there. Anyway, this is just a pre-emptive order. The guy on the phone said that there’d be more if the donuts were a hit.”

  “Just how many days is this convention?” Heather asked.

  “Four,” Amy replied. She chuckled and wiggled Heather’s arm. “That’s a lot of sales.”

  “That’s a lot of donuts.” They didn’t have the staff for that many orders, yet. Maybe in two weeks, when she’d had a chance to hire after the launch of the new and improved store, but now? Not a chance.

  They’d be swamped. They’d never be able to –

  “I’ve already spoken with the team,” Amy said and cut right across Heather’s thoughts. “Everyone thinks we can do it. I mean, these are Choc Revolution Donuts, Heather. They’re relatively straightforward to make.”

  Heather bit the inside of her cheek. She nodded at last. That last part was true.

  The Caramel Glazed Donuts were simple. A vanilla donut injected with drippy caramel glaze on two sides, then triple dipped for luscious flavor. Sticky and sweet, easy to make.

  “All right,” Heather said, at last. “Yeah, I guess we can do that if everyone’s on board.”

  “You’ll have to force Maricela to go home. She’s really excited about this. I think she’s most excited for a few of the rejects,” Amy replied, then laughed.

  Heather stopped and tapped the bottom of her chin. “When is the first order of two hundred due?”

  “This weekend.”

  “So, we’ll have to form a production chain for this,” Heather said. “Oh wait, let’s get everyone in here for a meeting and –”

  A knock rattled the glass pane of the front door.

  The women turned on the spot and stared at it. Heather grinned.

  Ryan Shepherd stood outside Donut Delights, handsome in his smart police uniform. He raised his knuckles again and rapped once. “Can I come in?” He asked.

  Amy and Heather exchanged a glance. Why had he even asked?

  Heather unhooked her arm from Amy’s and walked to the front, and her heart skipped beats in time with her steps.

  Ryan didn’t smile at her. Oh yeah, something was up. Could it be her first case as a consultant to the Hillside Police Department?

  She unlocked then opened the door for her husband.

  Ryan took two steps inside, then looked around the front room of Donut Delights. “Good morning, ladies,” he said.

  “Officer,” Eva replied, gravely. But a glob of sticky caramel on her chin ruined the effect.

  Ryan’s gaze flickered from the blob to Eva’s eyes, and he nodded once, then turned to Heather. “Unfortunately, this isn’t a personal visit. I’m here about a case.”

  “Ooh,” Amy squealed, then grasped Heather’s arms. “It’s happening. The first real one. The first case.”

  Ryan didn’t reply.

  Heather’s heart pounded against the inside of her ribcage. “All right. Would you like to speak in my office?”

  Ryan opened his mouth, then hesitated. He cleared his throat and moved closer to them. “Actually, that would be a great idea.”

  Heather spun around and walked toward the office.

  “But,” Ryan said, “I’m here to speak with Amy, first.”

  All sound ceased, apart from the slow tick of the clock against the wall. Amy? Why would he be here to see her?

  Heather turned back to her husband. “What’s going on?”

  Ryan took his notepad and pen out of his pocket. Amy’s cheeks paled, her eyes went wide.

  “There’s been a murder,” he said. “We have reason to believe that Amy might have been the last person to see the victim alive.”

  Chapter 2

  Heather braced her elbows on her desk
and interlaced her fingers beneath her chin. “How is this possible?” She asked. “Amy’s been at Donut Delights all morning.”

  “Except for one delivery,” Amy said, then swallowed an air bubble. She oscillated between an upright posture, then a lean back against the chair opposite Heather’s desk.

  Ryan stood beside Heather’s chair, his notepad out. “That’s the time slot we’re looking at.”

  “That means that –”

  “Junior Buckle is dead,” Ryan replied, then scrawled a note across the top of his lined pad. “He was poisoned by one of the extra thick chocolate malt milkshakes you delivered, Amy.”

  Heather’s bestie shook her head. “I don’t believe it. I saw him this morning. He was fine. He was happy.”

  “That was before the aforementioned poisoning,” Ryan replied, then scratched his stubbly chin.

  “Ryan,” Heather whispered, and made eyes at Amy, who’d sunk in her chair.

  “Sorry,” her husband said, “It’s been a long day, and it’s only 11 am.”

  Heather leaned over and opened up her top desk drawer, then brought out her notepad. She’d probably have to start taking notes on a tablet or an app soon. Given the frequency of her investigations, it’d be more environmentally friendly that way.

  “I can provide you with surveillance tapes,” Heather said and wrote Junior Buckle at the top of her page. “You’ll see there wasn’t any foul play with those milkshakes in Donut Delights.”

  “That doesn’t help me, though,” Amy said, and then coughed a half-laugh, half-squeak. “I don’t exactly have a drone following me around, recording my every movement.”

  “That’s the gray area,” Ryan replied. He clicked his ballpoint twice, then sniffed. “Amy, walk me through what happened when you arrived at Junior Buckle’s house.”

  “Wait a second, the victim’s name was Junior?” Heather asked.

  “Charlie Buckle the Second,” Ryan replied, “Junior was his preferred name.”

  Heather scratched out her heading and replaced it with the new name, then put down her pen. She opened her laptop and it whirred to life.

  “I didn’t notice anything unusual. I deliver to his house a lot. I mean, he’s not exactly a thin guy,” Amy replied. She bit her lip, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t understand. This is so weird. I’m sorry, but I just saw him this morning, and now –”

  “Take it slow,” Ryan replied, and his tone softened. “Tell me what you saw in your own time.”

  Amy sucked in a breath, held it, then exhaled. Her short blonde hair fluffed out of her face.

  Heather opened up her order report, and her CRM software on her laptop then scrolled through the history. “Ah, found him. I’ve got him down as Junior Buckle. But wait, I’ve got a Charlie Buckle here too.”

  Ryan bent and squinted at the screen. “Yeah, that’s the one. The address for Junior Buckle.”

  “Old Church Way?” Heather shook her head. No wonder Amy was spooked. That route would’ve taken her close to the graveyard – not her bestie’s favorite place in the world.

  “It was around 8 am this morning,” Amy said.

  Ryan and Heather snapped upright and focused on her instead of the screen.

  “I arrived at Junior’s house and knocked, just like usual. He came to the door, paid for milkshakes, took them, then I left.” Amy shut her eyelids and scrunched them up.

  “Is that all? You didn’t see anything different?”

  Amy clicked her tongue and shook her head. “No, I – oh wait,” she said. “Wait, I remember thinking it was really quiet.”

  “Quiet?” Heather wrote it down on her notepad. Ryan did the same.

  “Yeah,” Amy replied. “Yeah, that’s right. It was too quiet. Usually, I see his girlfriend around, getting ready for work. I don’t ever go into the house, but she’s usually hovering in the background.”

  “Hovering?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah, the time before last, she had her dog in her arms, and it was barking like crazy.” Amy opened her eyes. “Seriously, that thing would put Dave to shame. Yapped until I wanted to shove the donuts in my ears to block it out.”

  “That would be a serious waste of donut.”

  “That’s how you know it was bad,” Amy replied, and a hint of a smile danced across her lips, then disappeared. “She wasn’t there this morning.”

  “And she’s always there when you deliver?” Ryan asked.

  “Without fail. That’s the only strange thing I saw,” Amy replied.

  Heather made another note on her pad, then clicked on the home address for Junior on her laptop. She copied it down too. “How do you know it’s poison?” Heather asked, and glanced up at her husband. “Did you get a toxicology report back that quickly?”

  “Not a chance. But there was enough evidence at the scene to indicate that’s what happened to him. Trust me when I say you don’t want to know the details,” Ryan replied.

  “Duly noted,” Heather said. She probably wouldn’t need those details, unless an autopsy confused matters. “So, he was poisoned.”

  Ryan nodded. “I can’t divulge anything else, right now,” he said, then gestured to Amy. “I’m sorry, but you’re a suspect, Amy. I can’t discuss it in front of you.”

  Amy swallowed twice in rapid succession. “Okay,” she said. She rose from her seat and wobbled toward the office door. “I guess I’d better get back to work. Or, you know, eat a tub of ice cream and twenty donuts to get over the shock.”

  At least her humor was intact. “Don’t worry, Ames,” Heather replied, and flashed her bestie a grin. “You won’t be a suspect for long.”

  Heather could count on a few facts in life, and one of them was that Amy Givens wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  Amy shuffled out of the room, then closed up behind her. The click of the door set butterflies dancing in Heather’s belly.

  “Do you need me as a consultant on this one?” Heather asked.

  “Are your donuts the best in Hillside?” Ryan asked.

  “That’s a yes, right?” Heather tilted her head to one side, and the sunlight which streamed through the open window warmed her cheek

  Ryan laughed out loud, then bent and kissed Heather on a cheek. “That’s a ‘definitely.'”

  Chapter 3

  Junior Buckle’s house sat flush against the sidewalk. A concrete path led up to rugged steps and a short front porch. The dark wood, door stood ajar, and police officers traipsed in and out.

  “Are you ready?” Ryan asked. “This is your first time on a crime scene.”

  “That you know of,” Heather replied, then chuckled and stared at the ‘do not cross’ tape. The bright yellow turned her stomach. That might’ve been the gargantuan butterflies kicking at her lining, though. “Just kidding. Yeah, I’m ready. Everyone knows I’m here as your consultant, right?”

  “Right,” Ryan replied. He grasped Heather by the elbow and drew her back a step, then bent close to her ear. “Just don’t take these guys seriously, all right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re my wife, and you’re here as a consultant on the case. A few of them have some problems with that,” Ryan replied, and glanced up at the house. “I don’t want you to be surprised by any weird attitudes you might perceive in there.”

  Heather licked her lips and followed his gaze. An officer stood on the porch, his fists on his hips, head turned in their direction.

  “They doubt me?” Heather shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not here to prove myself to anyone. I’m here to get the facts.”

  She strode up the path, and Ryan hurried up behind her. “Still, just don’t worry about them, okay.”

  “I’m not,” Heather replied. She climbed the three front steps to the porch then stopped in front of the officer.

  He chewed on a piece of gum and smacked his lips. “You the consultant?” He asked, then snorted noisily.

  “Hoskins, stop chewing like a cow in
the field and greet Mrs. Shepherd with respect,” Ryan replied.

  “That’s okay,” Heather said and raised her palm. “Good afternoon, Detective Hoskins. Are you going to move out of the way?”

  “Sure,” he said, then sniffed again. “I just got one question.”

  A few of the other officers had gathered behind him in the hall.

  “And what’s that?” Heather asked.

  “Where are the donuts? That’s your job isn’t it?” Hoskins asked. He thumbed his nose. “Making donuts. Shoot, I figured you’d make yourself useful and bring some.”

  The officers in the hall burst out laughing, a few of them had the grace to snigger behind their hands instead.

  Ryan puffed up behind Heather.

  “I do make donuts,” Heather replied, coolly. “You’re quite right, Hoskins.”

  He guffawed and readjusted his belt, which strained around the bulk of his belly.

  “But,” Heather continued, “You don’t need any extra donuts, do you?” She smiled at him, sweetly.

  The officers gasped, then burst out laughing again. “You hear that, Hossy?” One of them asked. “She says you gotta lose weight. I told you to lay off the French fries.”

  Hoskins stopped chawing on the gum. His mouth dropped open, and his cheeks grew bright red.

  “Excuse me, gentleman,” Heather said and strode past the detective and down the hall.

  Ryan walked right behind her all the way.

  They entered the living room, and Heather folded her arms and pulled up short. A desk sat against the wall, and enormous screen mounted above it, and what looked to be a gaming controller balanced on the wood.

  A dog bed lay in the opposite corner, and boxes littered the carpet.

  “This is where you found him?” Heather asked.

  “Yeah, they’ve already removed the cadaver and the other evidence. This is what’s left. He was over by the computer, game thing,” Ryan said and gestured with his ballpoint pen.

  Heather frowned. “Uh huh.” She walked to the boxes in the center of the room and peered into them. “Looks like someone was moving out.”

  “Right.”