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
Table of Contents
Title Page
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
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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.
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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
Donut Delights felt like home. The rumble of conversation and the click of cups hitting saucers, coupled with the delectable scent of sweet donuts in every variety imaginable.
Oh yeah, Heather couldn’t be happier to be back.
Her newest creation cried for attention beneath the glass, glistening the orange of a Hillside sunset. She sighed and placed a porcelain cup on the grate of the coffee machine, then punched a couple buttons.
It was pretty early and the morning rush hadn’t started quite yet. She had a minute to relax and enjoy the fact that she wasn’t in humid Florida – another night in that muggy hotel room and she might’ve gone mad. Never mind the boa constrictor they’d had for company on their final evening.
The coffee machine whirred into action and Heather checked her apron strings.
“Heather, dear,” Eva said and halted in front of the counter. “I’m so glad the store is open again and it’s just in time to show it off to my old friend.”
The woman at her side wore her hair in a similar plum style, but her ice blue eyes were sharp. She didn’t have the same soft angles and warm smile which Heather associated with Eva.
“Nice to meet you,” Heather said. “I’m –”
“Oh, I know who you are,” the woman replied. Her tinny voice grated Heather’s nerves. Goodness, what a strange lady. All sharp angles and words.
“I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” Heather said and extended her hand.
The woman studied it but didn’t shake. “Carly,” she said.
“Excuse Carly. She’s in a terrible mood because she lost her favorite necklace,” Eva said and patted her friend’s arm. “Don’t worry, dear, we’ll find it.”
“I highly doubt that. I’m sure the thief has already left town with it. That necklace was of great value. Sterling silver.” Carly snatched a napkin from beside the register, then dabbed her moist upper lip.
“I’m sorry to hear about your troubles,” Heather said.
“Are you?” She massaged her neck. “I’m in a lot of pain too, I’ll have you know. You wouldn’t understand anything about pain. You’re just a baker.”
“Now, Carly, there’s no need to be rude,” Eva chided and patted the other woman again.
But Carly wasn’t in the mood for pats and reassurance, apparently. She turned on her burgundy heels and clicked off to the other side of the store, head held high and plum do wobbling.
Heather blinked in the wake of her departure. “Goodness,” she said. “Eva, I don’t mean to be rude but who on earth is that and why would you want to spend any time with her.”
Eva sighed. “She’s one of the Hillside originals.”
“What’s a Hillside original?”
“It’s what I call women of my generation who have lived here for as long as I have. She doesn’t get out of the house much unless it’s to wander down to the post office and berate them for their lack of stamps and the advent of email. She’s not good with computers,” Eva said. “Or people. Or anything, really.”
“And you’re friends with her because?”
Eva chuckled. “Because it’s wise to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” She lowered her voice and glanced back at Carly. “I wouldn’t trust that woman as far as I could throw her. Which is not at all.”
Heather set about preparing Eva’s usual cup of coffee and an extra for Miss High and Mighty by the window. “You spend time with her often?”
“I visit at least once a week.”
“Goodness, Eva, what else do you get up to in your spare time that I don’t know about?”
“That’s my secret,” Eva said and winked. “Now, enough about that old knitting bag, let’s talk donuts. What’s the special this week?” Her gaze landed on the glistening orange donuts and didn’t budge. “Something delicious I bet.”
“Last week the gang and I came up with these really zesty, sour but sweet donuts. The Kiwi Lime Surprises. So, this week, I decided it was time for something fruity, creamy and smooth.”
“I’m drooling already,” Eva said and slurped.
Carly let out an exasperated huff and plonked down at Eva’s usual table. She rammed her handbag onto it and stared out of the window.
“It’s the Peaches and Cream Donut,” Heather said and placed the two coffee cups on the countertop. “A vanilla bean base, baked in the oven until golden and crispy, injected –”
“Oh, whenever you inject the donuts I know it’s going to be good.”
It was Heather’s favorite trick and one she’d learned from her grandmother. “They’re injected with a light, vanilla cream in three pockets. They’re laden with the stuff, actually. Amy had one and she messed everywhere, but I’ve never seen her happier.”
“And the glaze?”
“Ah, yes, of course. A double dip into a peach glaze, made from organic peaches and a tiny splotch of lemon to elevate the flavor profile,” Heather said.
“You’re a genius. I’ll take three. Two for me and one for the Sulky Sue over there,” Eva said.
Heather brought out the plates, then fed two donuts onto them. “There you go.” She waved Emily Potts over. Her assistant collected the order and walked it to Eva’s tab
le beside the window. Carly ignored the delivery of the food and coffee, entirely.
“Good luck with that one,” Heather said. She didn’t like the idea of Eva hanging around with such a wretched woman, but what could she do? It was her choice, not Heather’s.
“I’ll need all the luck I can get.” Eva toddled off to join her ‘friend.’
Emily circled the counter and took her place beside the register and their new computer system.
“Oh shoot, I forgot to enter the order,” Heather said. She’d officially opened a tab for Eva so she wouldn’t have to pay every time she ordered a donut. That meant Heather didn’t have to enter it into the system to get the register drawer to pop out – it was easier to forget that way.
“I’ll do it, boss,” Emily said and tapped on the screen.
Heather’s phone buzzed in the front pocket of her apron and her stomach whooped up into her throat then plonked down again. So soon? It couldn’t be.
She whipped her cell out. Ryan’s name flashed on the screen.
“Here we go again,” Heather whispered.
Chapter 2
Heather strolled through the gift shop portion of the Tourism Depot, past Hoskins who hovered in the doorway, snacking on a candy bar, and into the office.
Ryan Shepherd stood beside a broken window which’d been covered with clear plastic. The sheet bobbed, then depressed, sucked back by the wind outside.
“What happened?” Heather asked.
“Murder,” Hoskins said.
Heather rolled her eyes and ignored the candy-gobbling detective behind her. “Ryan?” He hadn’t been forthcoming on the phone, apart from telling her to get her butt down to the Tourism Depot and bring Amy along for the ride.
Except Amy couldn’t come. She was currently sitting for her final Private Investigator’s License exam. If she passed this one, she’d help out Heather on every case as a qualified assistant.
Detective Shepherd side and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Victim’s name was Shane Price. Owner of the Tourism Depot. One of his employees found him this morning, stabbed through the heart. From the back, though.”
“Forensics has already cleaned up in here?”
“That’s right,” Ryan said. “We’re free to wander and touch at will. Not you, Hoskins.”
“What did I do?” Hoskins whined.
“The same thing you always do. Spill chocolate and crumbs everywhere.” Ryan fished his notepad out of his pocket and showed Heather the front page – it was streaked with melted chocolate.
“All right. So what do we know? The window was the entry point, I take it.”
“That’s what I thought at first, too, but the spray pattern indicated otherwise,” he said and gestured to the opaque plastic bag in the frame. “All the glass was out in the alley, apart from a few shards which fell on the sill itself. And it was one of those shards which the killer used to murder the victim.”
Heather hadn’t brought her tablet to take notes since Ryan would deliver all this information to her in a dossier by tomorrow morning. Gosh, she’d missed that down in Key West.
“That presents a problem,” Heather said. “The killer breaks the window and the victim turns to look what happened. It’s the logical sequence of events. So how did the killer manage to stab him in the back?”
“That’s my question too,” Ryan said. “We can’t be sure of the timeline of events here, though. We don’t know whether this window was broken long before the killer arrived at the scene.”
“Possible,” Heather said. “But probable? I don’t know.”
Ryan heaved a sigh and did his vexed hair scrape through again.
“What’s up?” Heather asked. “You look like Dave ate your last donut.”
“The crime scene has been tampered with,” Ryan said.
“What? Why?”
“They dusted for prints in here and found nothing. There was a blood trail which’d been cleaned up and I’m almost one hundred percent sure that we’re not going to get any DNA evidence in here.”
“The killer cleaned up?” Heather asked.
“That’s what it looks like,” Ryan replied. “But the cleanup was sloppy. They got the start of the blood trail but not the end of it. And the murder weapon was left on the desk. Why not just throw it away? It was a half-hearted cleanup job and that puzzles me.”
“Why go to the effort of cleaning up if you’re not going to do it properly?” Heather asked. “Unless they were interrupted during the process.”
If the scene had been tampered with, that cast doubt on all their deductions thus far. They’d have to rely on what forensic evidence they received – the autopsy report, specifically, would tell them the time of death, at least. That wasn’t something the killer could wipe away.
Ryan flipped the front page of his chocolate stained notepad over and scanned the one beneath it. “Shane Price,” he said. “Husband but not a father.”
“Oh, well that’s good,” Heather said before she could stop herself. She hated it when kids lost their parents.
“Wife’s name is Hannah Price,” Ryan said. “She wasn’t the one who found him, but she did call the police station last night and report that he hadn’t come home. She wanted to open a missing person’s case, but the timeline wasn’t right. She’d seen him that morning.”
“So the last time Shane was seen alive was yesterday morning,” Heather said.
“Correct.” Ryan scratched another note on the pad. “We’ll have to interview her.”
“I can handle that. I’ve got some free time this morning. I have to pick up Amy from her exam after she’s done,” Heather said.
“Her exam. I forgot all about that. I bet she aces it.” Ryan smiled for the first time since she’d arrived on the scene. “That’s great, hon. I’m happy for both of you.”
A swirl of nerves mixed up the coffee and donut Heather had snacked on for breakfast. “She’ll do great,” Heather said, more to comfort herself than anything else. “All right, so the first task on the list is to speak to the widow. Has she given a statement?”
“She has. And she’s given an alibi too. Very quick to jump on the alibi bus if you know what I mean,” Ryan said.
Hoskins snorted and crinkled a candy wrapper. “Who isn’t?”
“Point taken. I still didn’t like it. She seemed more concerned about the will and the alibi than about her husband’s death,” Ryan said. “I’d like to find out why.”
“Wait the wife didn’t find the body, right?”
“Right.”
“So who did?”
Ryan rifled through his notes. “Guy by the name of Tristan Turner. He worked for Shane as one of the clerks in the gift shop. You know, you wouldn’t think a business like this would work in Hillside.”
“It’s the boom,” Heather said. People had poured into their beloved small town over the last few months and the resultant expansion had transformed Hillside from small town to small city. Somehow, it hadn’t lost the appeal or the gossip chain which ran right through the center of Donut Delights.
“I guess,” Ryan said. “But I’m going to check out this guy’s finances. This might be money motivated, especially if his business was going under.”
Heather circled the room once and peered into the next one – kitted out with a sofa and a small screen TV. It didn’t look like Shane’s business had been on the way out. If anything the extra office ‘relaxation’ room was a recent addition. The place reeked of fresh paint.
Regardless, another murderer was on the loose and it was Heather’s time to shine. Or fail spectacularly. Only time would tell.
Chapter 3
Heather wouldn’t have called Hannah Price’s home anything other than stately. A double story brick-faced construction bordered by a wrought-iron fence – the garden had been filled with flowerbeds and the grass was green in spite of winter.
“It’s heating up, isn’t it?” Hannah asked, and handed her a glass of lemonade.
/> They sat beneath a massive oak, the first buds of spring popping above their heads.
Heather shifted on the bench and a splinter poked through the back of her cotton shirt. “Spring is coming.”
Mrs. Price took a sip of her lemonade and the ice cubes clinked against the glass. “This is my little slice of heaven,” she said and brushed luxurious blond hair back from her face. There had to be at least ten pounds of hair on that head. “After I left the pageant scene, Shane whisked me off my feet and told me he’d give me the world.”
“And did he?”
“This garden was all I wanted, so I guess you could say yes.” A sad smiled played around the corners of her lips.
“Mrs. Price, thank you for agreeing to speak with me today,” Heather said.
“I didn’t have much of a choice.” The ex-beauty queen pursed her full lips. She had to be over thirty years old but her skin was youthful and her forehead didn’t hold a single wrinkle.
It didn’t wrinkle too much when she frowned either – Botox. The woman could afford cosmetic surgery. Or was it her husband who could afford it?
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Heather said – the easiest way to start an interview. “I understand this must be a difficult time for you.”
Hannah didn’t confirm that.
“When last did you see your husband?” Heather put the glass of lemonade on the stone table in front of them, then whipped her tablet out of her bag. She clicked the button on the side and the screen lit up.
“On Sunday morning,” Hannah replied. “He woke up early and went for a jog as he usually does. Then he came back and told me he wanted to go to work.”
“Did he usually work on Sundays?”
“No. I found it really strange at the time, but I figured he was just excited because business had been picking up lately,” Hannah said. “You know everything’s growing around here.”
“Right. So he left to go to work.”
“Yeah and he didn’t – he never came back.” Hannah sniffed and dabbed the end of her nose with her thumb.
“Mrs. Price, is it true that you reported him missing that evening?” Heather asked.
“Of course I did. My husband never left me alone for more than an hour. Not since we started dating. He loved me like no other.” The words sizzled out of the woman.
Peaches and Cream Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy - Book 41 (Donut Hole Cozy Mystery) Page 1
