Sinister Sprinkles
Page 24
She came in, grabbed the pan, and began icing the cake donuts I’d made, drowning them in a cascade of sugar from the reservoir. I flipped the peanut butter donuts with long chop sticks, and after they were done on both sides, I pulled them out.
Emma noticed the small batch. “Another experiment?”
“You know me. I’m not satisfied unless it’s the best.” As I put them on the rack to cool, Emma started icing them as well.
“Just do three,” I said. “Leave the other three.”
“You’re the boss.” She took a deep breath. “Should we split one?”
“I haven’t made the grape jelly glaze yet,” I said.
Emma crinkled her nose at that. “Why ruin them? Why don’t we offer them like this and see what happens?”
I grabbed one of the glazed donuts, broke a piece off it, and tasted it.
She was right. It didn’t need jelly at all.
It wouldn’t be the PB&J I’d planned to offer, but it was certainly a different flavor than the peanut-crusted donuts I’d been selling. I just hoped none of my customers had peanut allergies.
I decided to hold one out for George Morris, my friend and a good customer who had retired from the police force several years ago. A balding man in his sixties, George had been invaluable in some of my amateur investigations in the past. “Go ahead and glaze the rest of them, but hold one plain donut back for George.”
“Just one?”
“He’s been complaining about his waistline, so I’m trying not to tempt him too much with free samples.”
“I think he looks fine,” Emma said.
“Tell him that when he comes in. I’m sure he’d love to hear it. If he comes in, that is.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Emma asked as she pulled that last rack of cake donuts off the icing station.
“With Lester Moorefield’s rant last night, I’ll be surprised if anyone comes through our front door today.”
Emma looked confused. “What happened? What did Lester say?”
I brought her up to speed, including my confrontation with him in the radio station parking lot. After I finished, Emma reached for the radio we kept in back.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I want to see if they might be rebroadcasting it.”
I glanced at the clock, and didn’t try to stop her. WAPS was still off the air, and would be until six a.m., when Lester started his broadcast day.
“Nothing but static,” Emma said.
“Trust me, you aren’t missing much. I just hope his boycott doesn’t work.”
She patted my arm. “Don’t give it a second thought, Suzanne. Our customers love us too much to turn their backs on us, especially on Lester Moorefield’s say-so.”
“I hope you’re right.” His attack had shaken me more than I cared to admit, and self-doubt began to creep in. We didn’t make a fortune at Donut Hearts on our best days, and there was a fine line between paying our bills plus a little extra and coming under what we needed to meet our daily operating expenses. I’d played with several ideas about how I might increase our income, but nothing had appealed to me. One of my friends and fellow donut makers in Hickory had added a bistro to serve lunch and dinner when the shop wasn’t busy making donuts, but he was a trained chef, while I was just a humble donut maker. If I was going to generate any extra income, it would have to be within the confines of the donut world.
* * *
At five-thirty, the donuts were ready, displayed proudly in their cases, and we had two different brews of coffee going, along with a carafe of hot cocoa made from my special recipe.
Now all we needed was a customer or two.
As I unlocked the front door, I was surprised to see a police cruiser drive up to the shop. Our chief of police didn’t like being seen at my donut shop because of the old jokes about cops and donuts, but some of his officers liked to come by occasionally. One in particular, Stephen Grant, was even becoming a friend, though it was clear Chief Martin wasn’t all that excited about the prospect of one of his officers getting closer to me.
I was in luck; it was my friend, but as Officer Grant got out of his squad car, I knew he wasn’t there for an early morning donut.
There was trouble, and I had a feeling from the expression on his face that once again, I was right in the middle of it.
ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES
BY JESSICA BECK
Glazed Murder
Fatally Frosted
Sinister Sprinkles
Praise for the Donut Shop Mysteries!
“A tribute to comfort food and to the comfort of small town life. With great donut recipes!”
—Joanna Carl, author of The Chocolate Cupid Killings
“If you like donuts—and who doesn’t?—you’ll love this mystery. It’s like a trip to your favorite coffee shop, but without the calories!”
—Leslie Meier, author of the Lucy Stone mysteries New Year’s Eve Murder and Wedding Day Murder
“The perfect comfort read: a delicious murder, a likeable heroine, quirky Southern characters—and donut recipes!”
—Rhys Bowen, Agatha and Anthony Award–winning author of the Molly Murphy and Royal Spyness mysteries
“Jessica Beck’s Glazed Murder is a delight. Suzanne Hart is a lovable amateur sleuth who has a hilariously protective mother and great donut recipes! Readers will have a blast with this book.”
—Diane Mott Davidson
“Jessica Beck’s debut mystery, Glazed Murder, is a yummy new treat in the culinary mystery genre. Skillfully weaving donut recipes throughout a well-plotted story, the author proves that life after divorce can be sweet; all you need are good friends, your own business, and comfort food. Delicious!”
—Tamar Myers, author of
Death of a Rug Lord and The Cane Mutiny
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
SINISTER SPRINKLES
Copyright © 2010 by Jessica Beck.
Excerpt from Evil Eclairs copyright © 2010 by Jessica Beck.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 978-0-312-94612-8
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / December 2010
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 978-1-4299-2680-5
First St. Martin’s Press eBook Edition: November 2010