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.
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
Heather walked between the rows of tents in the school field and clung to the Donut Delights box. Her heart skipped a beat. Her tummy twisted into knots then relaxed again.
Only a day until the Hillside Annual Bake-Off and already, the nerves had set in.
“Hey,” Amy said and nudged her arm. “What are you worried about?”
“I’m not worried,” Heather replied, and sniffed. “Who said I was worried?”
“Oh please, I can read you like a recipe book,” Amy replied, and rolled her eyes. She shifted her grip on her own Donut Delights box. “You can’t seriously be nervous for this thing tomorrow. You’re a shoo-in to win it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There are plenty of great bakers in Hillside,” Heather replied.
Amy snorted this time and the donuts in her box wobbled around. “I hope you’re not talking about who I think you’re talking about.”
They halted in front of the tent which had been allocated as ‘Heather’s Spot’ and waved at Maricela and Ken.
“Hey, you two,” Amy said and wriggled her eyebrows.
Ken blushed and looked away. Maricela – totally unaware of Ken’s crush – grinned and beckoned. “We got everything up, now. Everything. We got the oven.” She pointed, then clapped her hands.
The gas oven sat beside a series of portable tables.
“You win this, boss,” Maricela said.
“Totally.” Ken avoided Amy’s gaze and gave Heather a thumbs up.
“I can’t thank you enough for your help,” Heather said, then placed the donut box on the table nearest to her. “Which is why I’ve brought these.”
Maricela rubbed her palms together, then flipped open the lid of one of the boxes.
Six chocolate coated beauties glistened on the cardboard.
“Oh, what are they?” Ken asked, and leaned in to take a look.
Heather swept her arms wide. “They’re a thick-battered chocolate base, baked and double dipped in warm ganache, then coated in a healthy sprinkle of salted pistachios. The salted part is important. Offset all that sweetness.”
“Oh wow,” Ken and Maricela breathed, in unison.
“I call them, Double Chocolate Pistachio Donuts.”
“Lame,” a voice said behind them.
The scene froze, apart from Amy who spun on the spot beside Heather. “Here we go again,” she muttered.
Heather sighed and followed her bestie’s example. She folded her arms and glared at her competitor extraordinaire, Miss Kate Laverne.
“Hello, Kate,” Heather said. A beleaguered sigh sat behind her lips, but she didn’t let it escape. Why give the woman the pleasure?
“Shepherd,” Kate said, and the corner of her lip twitched upward. “I thought you might be here. You think you’ve scoped out the best spot.” She glanced left and right. “But you’re nowhere near the judge’s table. They’ll have to walk for ages to get to you.”
“At least they’ll have walked off whatever cupcake abomination you plan on feeding them,” Amy said.
Heather’s eyes widened. She stifled a chuckle. Her bestie had the best barbs and the worst jokes.
Kate Laverne opened and closed her mouth, then pursed her lips. “Whatever. I don’t even know you.” She focused on Heather again. “I hope you don’t plan on giving them those things. For your sake.” She flicked her fingers toward the box of donuts.
“Kate –”
A tiny woman in a pantsuit burst out of a tent nearby. She held a microphone with a massive foam bulb on its end. A cameraman followed hot on her heels.
“This thing is going to be televised?” Amy muttered. “Wow.”
That only made Heather’s nerves worse.
“There they are,” the tiny reporter said. “Hurry up, Mike. Stop fumbling with that camera. We’re going to lose them.” The woman clapped her palms together around the microphone.
The cameraman loped after her, his thick arms coated in a thin, sheen of sweat.
“Ladies,” the woman said, and adjusted her grip on the microphone. “How are you this fine Sunday morning?”
“We’re alarmed,” Amy replied. “Who are you?”
The reporter’s focus glazed past Heather’s bestie and rested on Kate instead. “I’m Tina Laurent, a reporter for Channel 5 News. You must be Kate Laverne,” she said and extended her free hand.
Kate stared at it as if it were a pit viper.
Tina didn’t falter. She slid her tiny hand toward Heather instead. “And you’re Heather Shepherd, owner of Donut Delights. Correct?”
“That’s correct,” Heather replied, and shook the reporter’s hand. “Is there something I can help you with Tina?”
“Maybe a sedative,” Amy suggested.
Once again, Tina ignored her. “How do you ladies feel about the competition tomorrow? Excited? Nervous?”
Heather glanced at Kate, then cleared her throat. “We were kind of in the middle of a conversation,” she said.
“Well, why not continue it?” Tina asked, and bestowed a smile on Heather and then Kate. Amy got nothing. “I’ll be back here. A fly on the wall.”
“No, thank you,” Heather said. Had this woman lost her mind?
The cameraman removed his eye from the viewfinder and shook his head at Tina Laurent. “You can’t do this,” he said.
“What was that, Mike?” Tina asked, and cupped her hand to her ear. “Nothing? You’ve got nothing to say. Just as I thought.”
“Tina, it’s not ethical. George warned you about this kind of –”
“George is a doormat,” Tina snapped and turned on her cameraman. “He doesn’t understand what it means to get good ratings. No wonder his stupid news channel is failing.”
“It’s a cooking show
,” Mike said and dragged his fingers through his long, greasy hair. “It’s not the Super Bowl. We don’t have to get exclusive interviews for this.”
“Ugh!” Tina threw her hands up in the air and wiggled her microphone around. “The insolence. I can’t work like this!”
She stormed off toward the end of the field.
Mike stared at her. He shook his head and exhaled through his nose, then followed her path. A slow walk down the path of doom. It had to be difficult working with a woman like that.
Kate glared at Heather for a second. She turned and walked off in the other direction.
“Weird,” Heather whispered, and strode back to the tables and the boxes of donuts. “I thought for sure she’d have more insults to hurl at me.”
Amy shrugged. “Maybe she felt upstaged.”
Chapter 2
Heather unlocked the front door of her house and dragged her feet inside. Boy, she could use a long, hot bath, and a cuddle with Cupcake.
The kitten had turned out to be quite the cutie.
“With a name like Cupcake, what did we expect?” Heather muttered to herself. She frowned and gazed up at Lilly’s closed bedroom door. Usually, the girl tumbled down the stairs the minute the front door opened.
“Lils?” She called.
“She’s not here,” Ryan said, behind her.
Heather shrieked and jumped up. She spun in mid-air and landed, palms out.
“Whoa. Did I scare you?” Her husband asked.
“Nope. Just practicing for the ballet,” she replied and wiped sweat from her brow. “Wait, where’s Lils?”
“I dropped her off at Eva’s for the afternoon. Dave and Cupcake too, since they’re inseparable now. Lilly and her menagerie.” Ryan massaged the bridge of his nose. “We’ve got a case.”
Heather exhaled and blocked out visions of a bubble bath. So much for her pre-cooking competition relaxation session.
“I can tell you’re looking forward to this one,” Ryan said and winked at her. He held out his hand, and she took it. “You want to back out? I can handle this myself if you prefer.”
“Sacrilege,” Heather replied. “You know I’d never be able to stay out of it. I’m just anticipating a very busy week ahead. Bake-off, orders and –”
“I think you can scratch the bake-off from the list, for now,” Ryan replied.
“What? Why?” Heather asked. She’d spent the entire week preparing for it. She’d baked on Thanksgiving for heaven’s sakes.
“Because a woman by the name of Tina Laurent has just been found dead in her hotel room.”
“Tina,” Heather said, and shuddered. “She’s a reporter. I just saw her about two hours ago.” It might’ve happened right after she’d left the field.
What if the cameraman had been involved?
Ugh, she had to pull herself together. She couldn’t make those kinds of assumptions just yet.
Ryan guided her out of the house and down the stairs, toward his waiting cruiser. They clambered into the car – at least she did, Ryan managed to slip in with some grace – and her hubby started the engine.
“You’re sure you’re up for this?” He asked, and slammed the gear into reverse.
“Of course,” she replied. Heather Shepherd never backed down from a challenge or a case.
Fifteen minutes later, they strode down the hall toward the distant – and chubby – shape of Hoskins. He stood beside the door which led into Tina Laurent’s designated hotel room.
“Evening,” he said, and nodded once to Ryan. He ignored Heather.
Apparently, that was his new tactic.
She strode past him and into the room. She didn’t have time for petty behavior. It was Sunday evening, and her child needed to get home and get her rest for school the next day.
Ryan entered the room and stood to one side. He narrowed his eyes. “Single access to the room. So whoever killed her had to have come through the door.”
Heather nodded once, then tapped her bottom lip. “Surveillance tapes?” She suggested.
Hoskins popped his head through the open door and snorted. “They don’t got any.”
“What?” Ryan folded his arms. “They don’t have surveillance?”
“They’re installing a new system,” Hoskins replied. “Old one was broken.”
“Well, that doesn’t help us,” Heather said. She circled the single bed, its sheets neatly laundered, and stopped at the base. “Do we have the murder weapon?” Heather asked.
“Yeah, it was the laptop cord. It’s already been removed and taken in for testing. Fingerprints and so on.” Ryan didn’t shift from his position, but his gaze scanned the pale, yellow walls, the beige carpeting.
A single wall sconce sat beside a door which led into a bathroom. Heather creaked it open and peered inside. A couple of mascara and lipstick tubes sat beside the white, ceramic basin, but that was it.
“It’s pretty empty for a hotel room,” Heather said. “Where’s her bags?”
“Good question,” Ryan said. He pushed off from his position and hurried to the dresser against the wall.
Heather knelt beside the bed and checked beneath it. She whipped out her phone, clicked on the flashlight app, then directed the beam toward the darkness.
“Ah, here’s her suitcase,” she said, then paused. A frown wrinkled her brow. “And something else.”
A pearl earring poked out of the carpeting, near to the edge of the bed.
“What is it?” Ryan asked, and snapped on a latex glove, he hurried to her side, then lowered himself to his knees. He picked up the pearl earring and examined it. “Good find, but we don’t know that its evidence, yet.”
“No, we don’t. But it might be. Or it might’ve belonged to Tina,” Heather said. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second and forced her mind back to the uncomfortable interview that afternoon.
Had Tina Laurent worn earrings? Ugh, she couldn’t remember.
Ryan slipped the earring into a plastic bag, then walked it over to Hoskins. “Take this back to the station,” he said.
“What are you, my mom?” Hoskins replied. “Just kidding. You’re too ugly to be my mom.” He punched Ryan on the arm, then turned and disappeared from the room.
“Charming,” Heather said. “I love working with that guy.”
Ryan chuckled, then pressed his fists to his hips. “Not much evidence here, though. Not until we get results back from the lab and take a good look at that laptop.”
“Yeah, the only lead we have is that earring, and wait –” She chewed her bottom lip. “I did witness a minor argument between Tina and her cameraman this afternoon.”
They’d also mentioned a guy named George. The owner of the network?
“The cameraman,” Ryan replied.
“Yeah, a guy by the name of Mike. He’s our first lead. After all, he probably spent a lot of time with our vic. Which means he’d know who might’ve wanted to hurt her.” If it hadn’t been Mike, himself.
“It’s a little late to check him out now,” Ryan replied, and checked his watch. Which means we can go home. Let’s get our Lilly and have a family dinner before bed.”
Heather tried to hide her relief. She’d had enough drama for one day. She traipsed out of the room and ignored the jangle of her sleuthin’ gene.
She’d missed something, for sure. But what?
Chapter 3
Heather placed the plate of donuts in the center of the table, then took a seat across from her one and only lead. Mike Martin.
Ryan had hooked her up with the Monday morning interview.
Mike’s hair had lost its greasy shine. It was dull beneath the downlights in Donut Delights.
“Thanks for coming down here to talk to me, Mr. Martin,” Heather said, and gestured to the donuts. “Please, help yourself.”
“Like I had a choice,” Mike grunted. “I got a call from some angry cop at the Hillside Police Department. What was I supposed to do? Say no?”
Heather cleared
her throat and glanced at Ames behind the register. She winked at Heather then handed out coffee to Eva. Everything in Donut Delights progressed at the same rate.
The same as any other day.
Why did it feel different, though?
She took a sip of strong coffee. “I’m working in conjunction with the good officers at the station,” Heather said.
Mike straightened and eyed the mug in front of him. Mistrust tracked across his expression. “So, you’re gonna grill me too.”
“I just want to ask you a few questions,” Heather replied, and award him her best customer smile. Hopefully, it didn’t come off forced. “I need some help getting to the bottom of this, and I figured that you’d be the best source to help me out.”
“Why?” Mike asked, and tapped the glass top of the iron wrought table with his short cut fingernails. “Why me?”
“Well, because you spent the most time with Tina. You’d have the scoop on who she liked and disliked.”
“More like who disliked her,” Mike replied.
Heather picked up a donut. “Exactly.” She took a bite and chewed on it.
She’d always been good at reading people, particularly local folks, but Mike had put up a solid steel wall.
He wriggled his nose, then finally took a donut. He bit into it and chewed, methodically. “It’s nice.”
Amy snorted nearby. “Nice,” she muttered, just above the hubbub in the store. “I’ll show you nice.”
Mike glanced at her, then back at Heather. “Is there a problem?”
“Of course not,” Heather replied. “Mike, do you mind if I call you by your first name?”
“I don’t care,” he said and took another bite of the ‘nice’ donut.
“Mike, you spent a lot of time with Tina. Did you ever see her disagree with anyone? A fight? An argument, maybe?”
“Are you kidding?” Mike laughed and brown donut crumbs and bits of nut sprayed the glass top.
Heather barely kept her revulsion in check. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“She fought with anyone who didn’t agree with her methods. And boy, did she have some weird methods.” Mike shook his head and put down his donut. Ganache dripped from his fingertips onto the glass top. “She’d do anything to get info on a story. Anything.”
Double Chocolate Pistachio Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 27 Page 1
