Green Velvet Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 16

by Susan Gillard

  Heather sent the text, then slammed the lid of the laptop shut.

  “You should never do that. Isn’t that bad for the computer?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care, right now. We’ve got an old, grumpy lady to interview,” Heather replied, and rose from her leather office chair.

  “Do we gotta?” Amy whined, in true Dave style. Dave without a donut on a brisk walk.

  “Yeah, we gotta. Put on your big girl panties, Ames. It’s sleuthin’ time.”

  They hurried out of the store, Heather locked up behind them, then got into Heather’s car. Amy kept her silence. Heather hummed along to the radio, something about Nae Nae and whipping, then started the car.

  “I can’t believe the music these days,” Heather muttered.

  “You don’t seem to mind humming it. Besides, it’s kinda of catchy,” Amy replied.

  “Catchy like the common cold.”

  They drove down the road, took a left, right, left, then sailed to a halt in front of Karly Belushi’s house. They stared up at the brick face. Two windows glinted yellow from the lights inside.

  Amy gulped. Heather patted her forearm. “Don’t worry, honey, I’m right here. I’ll protect you from the big, bad witchy poo,” Heather said, in a baby voice.

  “Whatever,” Amy replied, and shrugged her off.

  They got out of the car. Heather marched up the path, determination burning in her muscles. Nope, that was the lactic acid from leg day. At least, she could walk this time.

  Heather stopped on the porch, raised her fist and knocked.

  Amy hovered behind her, flitted back a step, then forward, then back.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Heather hissed.

  “I can’t help it.”

  The door swung inward, and Karly appeared, hair in curlers, robe gathered at her throat. Fluffy slippers completed the look. “You again.”

  “Heather, actually.” She smiled and nodded once. “I’m the one helping to clear your name?”

  “Yeah,” Karly grunted and shifted the door so that a sliver of her face peered through the crack.

  “Except, I don’t think I should clear your name anymore. I want the truth, Miss Belushi,” Heather said, and slapped her palm against the door.

  Karly flinched. Amy gasped.

  Good cop, bad cop, indeed.

  “The truth?”

  “Yeah. Why did you spike your sister’s coffee at Donut Delights on the morning of her murder?”

  Karly paled. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” Heather replied, and placed light pressure on Miss Belushi’s front door.

  They’d lucked out on this lead. She had to follow through.

  “How dare you accuse me of –”

  “I have the surveillance recordings to prove it,” Heather replied. “I’m forwarding them to the police. Start talking.”

  Amy appeared in her peripheral vision, shaking her head on repeat. “Heather,” she groaned.

  “Oh, you want me to start talking,” Karly said, her tone deepening.

  “That’s right,” Heather replied, and dropped her arm to her side.

  “Then read my lips. Get off my property!” Karly slammed the door shut in her face.

  Heather flinched back and rubbed her nose. “Hey, she got me.”

  “Of course, she got you. She’s a psycho,” Amy whispered.

  “I dare you to knock and tell her that.”

  “Sure, just let me call my lawyer to draw up my last will and testament, real quick.” Amy jerked her thumb toward the street. “Please, please can we go now? I hate this place. I bet she’s got a shotgun in there.”

  Heather hooked her arm through Amy’s and led her back down the stairs. “All right, we’ll go. I’ve got to talk to Ryan, anyway, and –”

  Heather cut off and narrowed her eyes at a bush nearby. The branches cracked and waved in the purple dusk light.

  Amy dug her fingernails into Heather’s arm. “What is that?”

  “If it’s rats, I’m done.”

  Chapter 13

  “Shoot,” Heather said. “I left my Taser in the car.”

  The bush wiggled, waggled, then went still. Heavy breathing emanated from between the branches.

  Adrenaline rushed through Heather’s veins. Someone was in that bush, and she’d bet her last Green Velvet donut that they had a stake in Bernie Belushi’s murder case.

  “What are you waiting for?” Amy asked, tremoring from head to toe. “Go get it.”

  “I can’t Taser a bush, Ames. And I’m not going near it until whoever’s in there comes out.” Heather narrowed her eyes. She glanced up at Karly’s house.

  Amy’s shotgun insinuation had sunk in. What if Karly charged out of there, fully loaded and ready to go?

  “Uh, something’s happening,” Amy said, in a squeak to rival a rat. Ew, rats. Blegh.

  Heather focused on the bush again. The top of a head appeared. Two bright eyes stared at them.

  “Come out of there,” Heather said. “If you don’t, I’m going to get my Taser out.”

  The eyes blinked.

  “This is creepier than the rats,” Amy whispered.

  “Nothing is creepier than a hundred pet rats. You’re mistaken.” Heather raised her voice. “You’re not coming out? Fine. The Taser it is, then, and after that, I’ll be calling my husband. He's a detective at the local PD.”

  The bush shivered.

  Heather made for the car door.

  “Wait,” the bush grumbled. “Wait, I’m stuck. I mean no harm.”

  “That voice,” Amy said. “Is that?”

  “Geoff.” Heather turned back to the bush, then walked up to it. She stopped in front of its quaking leaves. “What on earth are you doing, Lawless? You scared the lactic acid outta me.”

  “Lactic acid?” He grumbled, and those bright eyes glared up at her.

  “Never mind. Give me your hand. I doubt I can pull you out, but you can use the leverage.”

  Geoff’s massive hand scraped between the leaves. Heather took it, then backed off and gave a test tug.

  “Ouch,” Geoff said. The lampposts clicked on alongside the street and his baldpate glinted by their light.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” Heather said. “Okay, on the count of three.”

  Amy’s hands grasped Heather’s waist. “I’ll help. We ready?”

  “Ready,” Heather replied.

  Geoff grunted instead of speaking.

  “One. Two. Three!”

  Amy tugged on Heather’s waist. Heather pulled at Geoff’s sausage fingers and ham palm. Lawless growled and popped free of the bush, showering leaves to the sidewalk and garden.

  The momentum sent Amy to the concrete. Heather sat down heavily beside her and grazed her wrists.

  Amy sighed, then sat up. “So, I’ve been thinking they should turn our lives into a movie. Or a book. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to normal people.”

  “Then I’m glad to be weird,” Heather replied. She scrambled to her feet – no helpful offer from Geoff forthcoming – and brushed off her workout shirt.

  “What are you doing here, Lawless?” Heather asked in-between huffs of breath.

  The big fella looked up at the house, then met her gaze. He scratched at his beard, extracted a leaf and flicked it to the ground.

  “Answer me,” Heather replied.

  “I’m following a lead,” Geoff replied.

  “A lead?” Amy shook her head. “There’s only room for one amateur sleuth in this town, man. And she’s not you.”

  “Geoff, you understand that I’m about to be licensed to investigate, right? You’re jeopardizing this case by getting in the way.” Great, now she sounded just like Ryan.

  “You’re not doing it right,” Geoff replied, in a caveman growl. “There’s been another break in, and you haven’t investigated it yet. It’s connected to the murder. I know. I know.”

  “All right,” Heather said. “Where’s the break-in?”
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  “Bob’s Bug Debunkers,” Geoff replied.

  “Oh no,” Amy whispered. “That’s a big ‘ol nope from me. Not going there. The last time –”

  Heather waved her to silence. “Why would someone break in there?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Wait, why are you here if there was a break-in at the exterminator’s store?” Heather scratched her temple. “Geoff, you’d better level with me. I can’t help you if you do this, oh so very Geoff kind of stuff.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Lawless said, and folded his arms.

  “It means, keep your sticky fingers out of the glaze or I’ll whack them with the back of a wooden spoon,” Heather replied, twisting her lips to one side. “I’m not going to put up with your interference. Why are you here?”

  “Because this Karly woman was with Bernadette at my store, the day of her murder,” Geoff replied. His muscles strained at the hems of his sleeves. “They had an argument.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Aunt B,” Amy replied.

  “Karly yelled at the victim, then slapped her, then left. The victim left after that.” Geoff unfolded his arms.

  “It’s creepy when you call her ‘the victim,'” Amy said.

  Heather stared up at Geoff, gaze picking at the lines of his face, the sincerity in his eyes. “All right,” she said, at last. “You get out of here. We’ve got this under control.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he replied.

  Amy snorted. “Says the guy in the bush.”

  Geoff turned on his heel, then loped off down the sidewalk, toward the last sliver of the setting sun.

  Chapter 14

  Bob’s Bug Debunkers.

  Lime green, printed words sprawled across the plate glass window next to the steel rimmed front door. Bug pictures splattered the jamb and the handle on the door? Insect-shaped, of course.

  “Wow,” Amy said. “I like this Bob, guy. He’s got some kinda style.”

  “Not the good kind,” Heather replied.

  Amy snorted, then linked her arm through Heather’s. “Shall we?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Heather cracked her knuckles – a terrible habit she’d picked up from Ryan – and stared at the crawling bug pictures. “Any lead from Geoff gives me butterflies.”

  “Ah, Mr. Lawless. Inducer of butterflies, master of lies, boiler of fudge balls.”

  “First of his name?”

  “Sacrilege,” Amy replied.

  They hurried to the door, and Amy opened it then held it for Heather. She traipsed inside and hit a wall of citronella scent. She coughed and scrubbed at her nose.

  “Keeps the bugs out,” Bob said and straightened behind the counter to the left. “I saw you ladies hanging around outside. You got a bug problem?”

  Amy strolled into the store, hands in her pockets. The door swung behind her and clanged shut. “I suppose you could classify a murderer as a pest.”

  “What’s that now?” Bob dug his pinky into his ear and wiggled it. “My hearing is almost gone. All those bug bombs.”

  “Bub bombs take your hearing away?”

  “I got to blame it on something,” Bob replied. “Can’t be anything else.”

  Amy lowered her head and muttered, “Might want to try a shower, ol’ buddy, ol’ Bob.”

  Heather ignored her and walked between the two rows of shelves in the store. Bob had arranged rattraps and poison, alongside canisters of the accused bug bombs. She picked up a can of pest repellant and shook it. The marble clattered around inside.

  “What do you need killed?”

  “Her curiosity.” Amy grinned from ear to ear. “But that’s a two-day job, at least.”

  “Bob,” Heather said, and shot Amy a mean look, narrow eyes, and thin lips, the works. “I need to ask you a few questions. I’m investigating the murder of Bernie Belushi. I’m sure you heard what happened.”

  “Some old lady kicked the bucket in her new house,” Bob said, still wiggling his pinky in his ear.

  “I missed your sensitivity, Bob,” Heather replied.

  “Her bucket was kicked for her.” Amy strode to the counter and placed her palms on the wood. “Say, you got any Cheetos? I’m jonesing for orange dust.”

  “One sec,” Bob said, then reached below the counter and brought out a sealed bag. He plopped it down.

  “How much?”

  “On the house,” he replied, then turned to Heather. “I’d answer your questions any day, Mrs. Shepherd, but today is a bad time. A real bad time.”

  Amy popped the bag open and brought out a chip. She inhaled it, crunched on the orange goodness, then licked her fingers. “Why’s it a bad time, Bob?”

  “I’ve been robbed,” he said. “And my good for nothing assistant didn’t come into work either. I don’t know why I gave her a chance. She’s been a letdown since day one. Always taking long lunch breaks and turning up late.”

  “I heard about the robbery. What was taken?” Heather asked. She didn’t give up easy – today’s interview wasn’t an exception to that rule.

  Bob sighed and slapped his cheeks, then dragged them down. “Someone broke into my safe. I’m the only one who knew the code, so I dunno how they got in without exploding the darn thing.”

  “Puzzler,” Amy said, and ate two more Cheetos.

  “You didn’t write the code down anywhere?” Heather asked. That seemed like a ‘Bob’ thing to do.

  “Well, yeah, otherwise I would’ve forgotten it. I wrote it on my desk pad,” Bob replied, shamelessly.

  “I see. And your assistant had access to that office?” Heather asked.

  “You don’t think she broke into it? Oh man, that’s why she didn’t come into work?” Bob fumed behind the counter. He slammed his fists onto the wood. “I should have known better than to trust her.”

  “How could you know?” Amy asked, then stopped chewing and flinched. She stared out of the front window of the store, past the massive green letters and bugs. “We’ve got company.”

  “Huh?” Heather peered past her bestie. A slow smile parted her lips. “Bob, you’re going to get your shot at justice.” She pointed to the cruiser in the street outside, and the handsome officer beside it.

  Ryan strode to the store, then opened the door. He narrowed his eyes at Heather. “Fancy meeting you here, Shepherd.” He winked at her.

  “I could say the same for you, Shepherd,” she replied.

  “That’s Detective Shepherd to you.”

  Amy fake gagged. “So cute I could die. No really. Are we done here?”

  Bob looked from Amy to Ryan and then to Heather, confusion crumpling his brow into a series of cavernous wrinkles.

  “Yeah, let’s leave Detective Shepherd to his work,” Heather said, then strode past her husband. She brushed the back of his neck with her fingertips.

  Ryan chuckled. “Stick around outside, please, I need to have a word with the two of you.”

  “Sounds like we’re in trouble,” Amy muttered.

  They walked out into the sunlight and stopped on the sidewalk. Heather gazed at her husband through the glass. He brought out his notepad and pen, then gestured and wrote down a note.

  Bob the Debunker talked and waved his arms around. He pointed to the back of the store, then at the roof and the floor.

  “I wonder what Ryan has to say?” Amy asked, gaze on the clouds overhead.

  Heather didn’t have a clue, for once.

  Chapter 15

  Heather and Amy milled around on the sidewalk. A couple of people strolled by tipped caps or smiled a ‘hello,' other than, it was pretty quiet.

  “The suspense is killing me,” Amy said and peaked at Ryan and Bob inside the store. “I left my Cheetos on the counter.”

  “You and those Cheetos,” Heather replied, and shook her head. “You’d better not like them better than my donuts.”

  “You know nothing can compare to your donuts.”

  Heather hummed Nothing Compare
s To You by Sinead O’Connor, then cut off midway and giggled. “I can’t believe all this.”

  “What do you mean?” Amy asked.

  “I mean, so much has happened around us and to us. So many things are changing, and the older I get, the more I realize that, ugh, I don’t know how to put this into words.”

  Amy readjusted the straps of her summer dress. “Try.”

  “Remember when we were twenty?”

  “Oh yeah. I remember. Blegh,” Amy said, then shook her arms out.

  “See? That’s what I mean. When we were twenty, we thought it was ‘the time.' The time of our lives that we’d cherish and remember and enjoy.” Heather shrugged.

  “I think I get what you mean. The twenties are supposed to be the years where it all happens. You’re young. You’re having fun, and it’s the best time of your life,” Amy replied.

  “Except it’s not. Every year I have more fun. I’m older and heck if I paid attention to all the trends and the magazines they’d probably tell me I’m past my peak. But, Ames, I feel like I’m reaching it every year,” Heather said, then scratched her chin.

  “Kind of like a fine wine?”

  Heather made a pair of pincer fingers. “I’m not that old.”

  “All right, all right, no need to get touchy. A harmless joke. Sheesh.”

  The door to Bob’s Bug Debunkers slammed behind them. They jumped and turned on the spot.

  “What’s going on out here?” Ryan asked. “Is Heather about to commit a crime?”

  “Only if that crime is baking the best donuts in Hillside,” Amy replied.

  “This is why I love you.” Heather dropped the pincers and swapped them out for a hug.

  “I ain't no snitch,” Amy said, narrowing her eyes at Heather’s hubby dearest.

  Ryan blinked at them, then checked his notepad in his pocket. He unhooked his pen and then refastened it.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” Heather asked. She walked to him and kissed him on the cheek. She’d never risked affection during work hours, but they were on the street and married, for heaven’s sake.

  “About Karly Belushi. I have some information for you. Let’s face it, honey, I need your help on this case.”