They crept down the sidewalk toward the house, and Heather’s pulse raced. She’d snuck through bushes and over fences, hovered beneath window sills and broken into houses – she wasn’t proud of that – but each time she did surveillance, her heart tried beating its way out of her chest.
A bunny rabbit style arrhythmia. She pushed her fears aside, but not the crazy pulse, and snuck into the garden.
Shadows flitted across the drawn curtains of the window closest to them. It looked in on the living room. Jean’s house wasn’t much more than a box with doors, a bathroom, and two rooms.
Heather crooked a finger to Ames, then pointed to a spot in the dried out flowerbed. They took up their positions beneath the windowsill and Heather tilted her head.
Voices drifted out to meet them, muffled only slightly by the thin walls.
“I’ve had enough, gammy,” Jean said.
“Enough?” Carly blew a raspberry inside. “You’ve had enough when I say it’s enough. I warned you about this. What’s it going to take for you to realize that you need to look out for his interests first?”
“Don’t talk to me about looking out for his interests,” Jean snapped. “Don’t you dare. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
“I’ve been here since –”
“Don’t say that either. It’s a lie and you know it. You rejected us from the beginning. Only after gramps died did you realize you’ve got nothing left but us.”
Were they talking about Shane? Amy’s eyes reflected the glow from the porch light. She shook her head and mouthed an indistinct question. Heather shrugged.
“That’s a lie,” Carly hissed. “I’ve always had you close to my heart. Until now. That’s why you’ve got to go. Understand? You’ve got to do this for me or –”
“Or what? This has nothing to do with me.”
“It’s got everything to do with you, girl. Everything. You don’t think they’re going to ask questions if they find out?”
A deafening silence greeted Carly’s question. Heather was at a loss here. What did Carly’s heat have to do with anything?
“Do it for Billy,” Carly said, at last.
Jean grunted. “This isn’t for Billy. This is for you.”
“And so? Family is family.” Carly laughed. “Or have you forgotten that. I put myself out there for you, dear. It’s time you return the favor.”
“You need to leave.”
Heather jerked her head at Amy, then back to the car. It wouldn’t be long before Carly came crashing out of the house in a rage. If only Heather could figure out what the rage pertained to.
They rushed back to the Chevrolet and Heather’s heart still hadn’t settled. Something strange had happened in the Lafonte house and she wasn’t sure it applied to the case.
They shut their car doors and sank low in their seats. Carly burst out of the front door, stormed down the front stairs, then the sidewalk and into the night.
“What in the name of donuts was that about?” Amy asked. “Hearts? Billy? I’m so confused. Did you get anything from that?”
“Only that Carly wants Jean to do something she’s not prepared to do.” Heather started the engine of her car. They’d seen all they needed to here. “And that Carly is just as mean as we thought she was.”
“Told you so.” Amy clicked on her seatbelt. “I’m the queen of mean. I know one when I see one.”
“You give yourself too much credit in that department.”
Chapter 13
Two things had lodged themselves in Heather’s mind. One was a name, the other an item.
Billy Lafonte. The picture of Shane and Jean.
The connection was tenuous at best, but Heather had a sneaking suspicion there might be more to Jean’s relationship with Shane than met the eye.
She swiveled from side to side in her office chair and watched the cars zoom past outside. Her distant view of the park provided her a little serenity.
Heather picked up her phone, then dialed Ryan’s number. She didn’t lift her gaze from the trees, waving in the breeze.
Three rings. “Detective Shepherd.”
“Hey, hon,” Heather said, and finally swiveled away from the view and to her computer instead. “I’ve got a question for you that might seem a little strange.”
“Fire away.”
“How old is Billy Lafonte?” Heather asked. “I don’t see anything in my dossier, but I figured that must have come up some time.”
“Billy Lafonte,” Ryan said. “Shoot, give me a minute. Let me ask Hoskins. Can I call you back?”
“Of course.”
Heather hung up but kept the phone in her hand. She resisted the urge to swivel again. The connection strengthened in her mind. Two puzzle pieces clicked together – they formed part of the picture but didn’t reveal the final image.
Heather took a sip of coffee and rubbed her lips together. If she was right about this, it might give them a motive.
The phone buzzed and she answered it, right away. “Hey.”
“He’s nine years old,” Ryan said. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, remember that picture Hannah found?” Heather asked. “It was taken ten years ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Inscription on the back,” Heather said and swapped out her coffee cup for the picture. “Us together, forever, 2007. That’s what it says.” Any doubts she’d had about the romantic element in the picture were assuaged.
“You don’t think –”
“Billy is Shane’s son,” Heather said. “I just don’t know the context. Why would Shane keep Jean working for him without looking after their son? Why did they break up?”
“Maybe there was pressure for Jean to get rid of the kid?” Ryan asked. “And she refused?”
Conjecture again. They needed solid answers. “Or maybe it didn’t work out and Shane felt beholden to Jean. Maybe that’s why she came to see him in the office before his death.”
“What if Hannah knew about this?” Ryan asked. “That Shane had a child from a previous relationship, I mean? That couldn’t have gone down well with her. She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d be supportive of a situation like that.”
Heather couldn’t help but agree. Hannah Price loved the limelight. Sharing it would’ve been beyond her.
“Or she didn’t know about it until recently,” Ryan said. “And that was her motive to murder Shane.”
“She was already upset about the fact that he hadn’t fired Jean. Finding out about Billy might’ve pushed her over the edge,” Heather said. She let out a sigh and dropped the picture on top of her keyboard. “It’s not enough for an arrest warrant, is it?”
“Not by a longshot. We don’t have anything which places her at the crime scene that night. And she’s got that rock solid alibi,” Ryan replied.
“Right.” Heather pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s something. We’ll have to confirm the information with Jean. Though, how can we trust what she says at this point? She already lied about Shane.”
“I know, I know. We don’t have anything yet,” Ryan said. “Listen, I’m going to follow a few leads this side and get back to you. That Carly thing you mentioned got me thinking. I need to do a background check.”
“All right. Keep me posted.”
“Love you,” he replied.
“Me more.”
Heather put the phone down next to the picture. She studied their happy faces. Shane, who’d been the notorious hard boss, and Jeannie who had to be just out of her teens in the picture. They were ten years apart in age, at least.
What on earth had brought them together? More importantly, what had forced them apart?
Heather couldn’t summon up any other emotion apart from sadness. Shane had died. Their relationship had been shattered and two families hung in the balance. Though, Hannah might not count as an entire family on her own.
Had Billy known that Shane was his dad? And if not, why had Jean kept the secret
from him?
Heather picked up the picture, then dropped it into her desk drawer, on top of the official dossier. She had to focus on some Donut Delights work before she went crazy from the possibilities.
She clicked on her PC and waited for it to fire up, thoughts tangled between donuts, filing, and little Billy Lafonte. He was only a few years younger than Lilly.
Chapter 14
Heather placed the donut on the plate and smiled at Eva. “Here you go,” she said and handed it over.
“Thank you, dear,” Eva said and accepted it. “I can’t get enough of the donut of the week. It’s unbelievable. The cream. The peaches. It’s…” Eva trailed off. The paper-thin skin of her brow wrinkled up. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind. The case is bothering me, I guess.”
“Come have a chat with me,” Eva said. “Maybe it will help.”
Heather followed her old friend back to her spot in the sun. Emily had already taken her place behind the counter, not that business boomed this late in the afternoon. Most folks were either finishing up work or already on the way home.
She sat down across from Eva and let out a sigh. It was ridiculous to be this upset over the investigation, but she hadn’t heard a thing back from Ryan since the morning.
Eva took a bite of her donut and gestured for Heather to fill her in.
“I guess I’m just stumped. And I know, I sit here at least once a month and tell you I can’t figure it out, and then I figure it out, but there’s so little evidence in this case,” Heather said. “Tampering with the crime scene threw everything into question.”
“You can’t figure out what’s real and what’s not?”
“Well, usually there’s an unbroken chain. You can surmise that everything is intact and it tells a story. But this time, the story is muddled. There are multiple possibilities and that leads to several motivations.” Heather shrugged. “And I really wanted to finish all of this off before Sunday. I planned on throwing a little congratulatory party for Ames.”
“For the private investigator license,” Eva said.
“Exactly. At this rate, I won’t be able to and that frustrates me. Amy worked really hard to get that license. I know how much studying it took to get me through.”
Eva took a sip of bitter, black coffee and swallowed. She clinked the cup onto the table. “It will work out. I know it will.”
“How?”
“Sometimes, you’ve just got to have faith that things will work out for the best.” Eva pressed a crooked finger to the underside of her chin. “You know, there’s no use worrying about things you can’t control. Anxiety tries to create the illusion that you can control the uncontrollable.”
“What do you mean?”
“That the outcome won’t change dependent on how much you worry about it. The less you worry, the more you can focus on the next steps you need to take. The more you worry, the cloudier it becomes, until you make a real mistake and discover that you never had that control in the first place.”
Heather puffed out her cheeks. “You should write a book, Eva.”
“Now, now, there’s no need to get cheeky.”
“I’m serious.”
Eva Schneider had been through more than most woman endured in their lives and Heather didn’t know the half of it yet. A memoir was in order, but Eva’s modesty didn’t have limits. She insisted she was a regular customer. A simple Hillside citizen without much to offer.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Heather said.
The bell above the front door tinkled and a gust of fresh air forced a few strands of Heather’s hair from her bun.
Ames appeared at her side, a triumphant smile lighting her from the inside out.
“Don’t you look like the Dave that got the donut,” Eva said and took another bite of her treat.
Amy giggled. “I am the Dave that got the donut at the moment.” She dragged back the third chair at the table and plonked into it. “You’re going to love me.”
“We already do,” Heather said. “But I’d love to know what’s lifted your mood like this.”
“I’ve just come back from the Hillside Reporter’s headquarters,” Amy said. “Wait, is that what you call a newspaper’s offices?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh goodness. What did you do, Givens? I told you to be careful.” Heather leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her palms.
“Oh, I was careful. I was super careful. But I was also super smart if I do say so myself.” The smug smile didn’t disappear.
“What did you do?”
“Let’s just say that Investigator Lemon and his horrible friend won’t be a problem anymore.” Amy dry-washed her hands, then dusted her shoulder off.
“Ames, tell me what you did.”
“You’ll see. You’ll see by the end of the week.” She clapped and giggled again. Whatever had happened had transformed the ever-sarcastic Amy into a veritable fountain of joy.
Heather’s phone buzzed in the front pouch of her apron and saved her the effort of questioning Amy at length. She probably wouldn’t get anything out of her. When Amy wanted to keep a secret, she kept it and no amount of convincing would get her to change her mind.
Heather wormed her cell out of her pocket and answered. “Shepherd.”
“Hello, Shepherd, it’s Detective Shepherd.”
“I live for these moments,” Heather said.
Ryan chuckled but it dropped off after a sec. “We’ve got a problem. Let’s call it a development.”
“Oh boy. I take it that’s not a helpful development you’re referring to?”
“There’s been a break-in at the Tourism Depot. I’m heading down there, now. Care to tag along?” Ryan asked.
“It’s like a dream date,” Heather said. “Except we’ll have a glowing third wheel to accompany us.”
Amy’s good mood hadn’t faded a whit in the last two minutes and wouldn’t for the foreseeable future.
“I don’t know what that means,” Ryan said.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Pick us up in five minutes?”
“On my way.”
He hung up and Heather heaved a sigh. Heaven knew what they’d find once they arrived. Hopefully, it’d clear the waters instead of cloud them even more.
“Where are we going?” Amy asked.
“Tourism Depot,” Heather replied. “It’s time to party, Amy.”
“Investigative party?”
“You’re always on my wavelength,” Heather said.
“Told you, you should’ve married me instead of Ryan. Think how happy Cupcake would’ve been.” Amy’s laughter rolled between the table and her mirth lifted Heather’s mood.
Chapter 15
“This is the only thing that was moved,” Ryan said and patted the top of the gray filing cabinet in the corner. “Nothing else was tampered with.”
“Just the cabinet.” Heather scratched her temple.
“Why would anyone break in and just mess with the cabinet? It doesn’t make sense.” Amy perched on the edge of the desk, arms folded across her chest.
“It gets weirder,” Ryan said. “Whoever did this didn’t take anything out of it. None of the business documents were taken.”
“So, what, they just moved it?” Amy asked.
“Exactly.”
Heather turned in a circle and scanned the rest of the room. She glimpsed the sofa, unmoved, in the next room, as well as the same old coffee pot, empty and gathering dust. The cabinet had been shifted away from the wall, but not tipped over and the bag over the window had been ripped down.
“This time, whoever broke in definitely came through the window,” Ryan said. “We’ve already gotten the forensics team down here. They got a fingerprint.”
Heather’s heart leaped into her throat. “That’s awesome news.”
“We’ll have to wait a while before we get any results back, but yeah, it’s something
at least.” Ryan patted the filing cabinet again. “This is our current mystery, though.”
“Hey,” Amy said, “but even if you got a fingerprint that doesn’t mean it was the killer’s.”
“No, but it’s someone’s fingerprint and that someone broke in here for a reason. I’d be happy if we could find out what that reason was,” Ryan said.
Heather tapped her bottom lip with her thumb, then pointed at the cabinet. “They didn’t take anything from it?”
“No, and nothing else was taken from the entire store. Not even from the gift shop,” Ryan said.
“You know what’s weird? They didn’t have surveillance cameras in here,” Amy said. “Or anywhere in the store. I mean, that should be a requirement in case someone tries to steal merchandise.”
“We did find an invoice from a company which does local surveillance and alarm setups in Hillside in Shane’s desk,” Ryan said. “So he was making a move toward that.”
“Too little, too late,” Amy muttered and winced.
Heather’s gaze stuck on the gray cabinet. “So, if they didn’t take anything from it, why did they move it in the first place?”
“That’s the question,” Ryan said. “I can’t answer it. I hoped two fresh pairs of eyes might help out.”
Ames and Heather exchanged a glance. Could they? So far, they’d found nothing but sparse clues and snatches of conversation which had everything to do with family troubles. They couldn’t ascertain if they had anything to do with Shane’s death, yet.
Heather walked up to the cabinet. She opened the first drawer and folders swished forward. The next produced the same result, and the third after that.
She slammed them shut one by one, then circled around to its steel back. Flat, undented, and nondescript. She turned to walk back, but a glimmer of light caught her gaze.
What was that? Something hooked into the carpet.
She dropped into a crouch and braced herself with one hand on the wall. “It’s a link.”
“Pardon?” Ryan shuffled up behind her. “What did you say, love?”
“There’s a chain link hooked in the carpet.”
“Like, from a fence?” Amy asked.
Peaches and Cream Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy - Book 41 (Donut Hole Cozy Mystery) Page 5
