Double Chocolate Pistachio Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 27

by Susan Gillard

  “Is that?” Amy asked.

  Heather grunted her reply, then turned into the road and parked.

  Mike entered the grounds.

  “We’d better hurry,” Heather whispered. She slipped out of the car and shut the door behind her, then jogged across the road.

  Amy followed her, and huffed and puffed. “Been missing out on leg days. Got to get back on the wagon,” she panted.

  They hurried between the open gates and stalked down the center aisle between the main tents.

  Movement caught the corner of Heather’s eye, and she hid behind a tent flap. Amy crashed into her back. “There,” Heather whispered.

  Mike stood at the end of the row and shifted the weight from his left foot to his right and back again.

  “What is he doing?” Amy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Heather replied. “I think he’s, wait, no, he’s moving –”

  Mike hurried toward a tent nearby and disappeared inside.

  Heather popped out from her hiding spot and dashed into the tent adjacent to Mike’s. Blood rushed in her ears, and she held her breath. What if he’d heard them?

  Amy huffed and puffed, then tried holding her breath to keep quiet. Her cheeks turned purple, and she exhaled.

  Heather peered out of her tent, then stepped back again.

  Mike had exited his tent.

  “He’s right there,” Heather mouthed. “Right outside.”

  “What?” Amy mouthed back.

  Heather rolled her eyes and pressed her index finger to her lips. She peered out again, but Mike Martin had disappeared. Where on earth had he gone?

  Heather counted to ten in her mind, then slipped out of the tent and looked around. She hurried to the tent Mike had targeted and peered into the gloom. All clear.

  “You can come out,” she called back to Ames, in a stage whisper.

  Amy hurried out of the tent and shuddered. “Ugh, for a second there I thought that was the rat tent.”

  Heather’s eyes widened. She looked up and down the row of tents. “Rat tent! That’s it. He was in the rat tent.”

  She strode inside the tent and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Wait, what do you mean?” Ames asked and chased after her.

  “This is the tent where Bob found the rats. Which means our friend, Mike knew about them,” Heather said and pointed to the crumpled tarp in the corner.

  “And that means?”

  “I’m not sure. Either that he knew all about Tina’s plan, or that it was his plan in the first place.” But Heather’s thought pattern faulted. Why did the rats even matter?

  Unless they were another way for Mike to get revenge for not being hired by George.

  Heather exhaled and took a step back. Her boot skated over an object. She yelped and lifted her foot.

  Amy hollered and jumped back. “Rat?!”

  “No,” Heather said and bent over. She grabbed the cool, plastic rectangle from the grass and lifted it. “It’s better than a rat.”

  “Anything’s better than a rat,” Amy said and crept forward a few paces. “What is it, though?”

  Heather closed her fist around the object. “It’s a flash drive. Mike must’ve dropped it.”

  “How can you be sure?” Ames asked. “I mean, it could’ve been anyone else who’s been in here over the past few days.”

  “Good point,” Heather replied. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  Chapter 16

  “See, now this is the part of an investigation I like,” Ames said, and sat back in the office chair beside Heather. She grasped the cappuccino cup between her palms and grinned from ear-to-ear. “Not all that running around in the fields, stalking a potential murder suspect, stuff.”

  “I had my Taser with me the entire time,” Heather replied. “Nothing to worry about.” She drew the laptop closer to them and tapped the side of the flash drive with her thumb. “Now, let’s find out what’s on this guy.”

  Amy slurped coffee and wagged her wrist in a queenly gesture. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”

  Heather opened her laptop and pressed the power button. It took a couple of minutes to fire up, and the time passed achingly slow.

  Finally, the welcome notes chimed, and Heather uncapped the flash drive and inserted it into the USB port. She swallowed and wobbled her legs up and down in place.

  “Why are you nervous?” Amy asked. “It’s not like it’s evidence for sure.”

  “I don’t know. It’s just – I don’t know what it is.”

  “That gut feeling again?”

  “Yeah, something like that,” Heather replied.

  The drive’s autoplay prompt popped up, and she opened the folder to view the files. A list of videos in mp4 format appeared, each one dated. Heather scanned the list for one which matched the day of Tina Laurent’s death.

  “There,” she whispered. “The 26th of November.” She clicked on the video.

  Amy put down her mug and leaned forward.

  The video opened in Windows Media Player and an image of Tina Laurent appeared on the screen.

  “And folks, you won’t believe this,” Tina said, onscreen in crystal clear clarity. “We’ve found an infestation of rats at the local competition grounds. It begs the question, where are the rats coming from? Is Hillside infested?”

  Tina stopped her rehearsal and clicked her tongue. She shook her head, turned back to her laptop and typed frantically. “Not enough drama,” she muttered. “Not enough of it.”

  The door slammed open and Tina glanced up. “What do you want, kid?”

  “You promised you would help me!” Lottie’s voice echoed through the laptop speakers.

  Heather gulped. The moment of truth.

  “Uh-huh,” Tina said and turned back to the screen. “Rats, folks! Full grown rats!” She cut off and shook her head. “No, that’s not right. Not right.” She typed on her keyboard again, and the screen lit the pale planes of her face. “Needs to be better. Hard-hitting.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Lottie screeched. She stomped into view. “I’m talking to you! You were supposed to hook me up with work. I thought we were friends.”

  Tina ignored her and continued typing.

  So far, everything was just as Lottie had described. Heather glanced at Ames, but her bestie’s gaze didn’t shift from the screen. Heather refocused.

  Lottie disappeared from view, and a something clicked. “There. It’s unplugged. Focus on what I’m saying to you.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Tina asked and rose from her seat. “Don’t you see I’m trying to practice here?”

  “What about me?” Lottie whined.

  “You’re a joke,” Tina yelled. “A joke. I’ll never help you. Never! Now get the heck out of my room before I call the cops.”

  Silence reigned for a minute, then Lottie stormed past the camera and out of the room. The door slammed behind her.

  Tina Laurent sat back down and continued typing.

  “She didn’t plug in the cord again,” Heather whispered.

  “Oh my goodness,” Amy said and swallowed. “I’m not sure I can stomach the rest of this. I think we’re about to see something horrible.” She raised her hands and blocked her eyes, but peeked through her parted fingers.

  Heather’s mind worked through the possibilities. Mike had dropped the flash drive. This was Mike’s camera.

  Unless… no, he’d have no reason to cover up for George Rockwell. He had mentioned something along those lines. Something about covering George’s tracks, during their argument.

  Heather fast-forwarded the recording. Tina spoke to the camera on and off, typed a bit, then froze and looked off screen. Heather pressed play. “Don’t watch, Ames.”

  Amy buried herself in the cappuccino instead but managed to keep her slurping noises to a minimum.

  “What is it?” Tina asked. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Whoever had entered didn’t speak. They walked across th
e room. Heavy footfalls which reverberated in the speakers.

  Oh boy. This was it. Heather couldn’t look away. She had to see this for Tina’s sake and Hillside’s sake.

  “Uh? Are you feeling extra stupid today? I told you, I need time to practice. This whole rat thing isn’t going to work unless you give me time,” Tina said.

  This was too spooky. A message from the beyond. These were Tina’s last moments on earth.

  Heather shivered and rubbed her upper arms, but didn’t look away.

  “Mike?” Tina’s expression shifted from smug to thoughtful. “Are you okay?”

  “Enough,” he croaked.

  A sudden rush of movement registered in the corner of the screen. The camera dropped from its perch and crashed to the floor. It focused on a pair of men’s shoes and the end of a cord. Horrible noises came through the speakers.

  Heather stopped the video, immediately, and shut the laptop.

  “Is it over yet?” Amy whispered.

  “Yeah,” Heather said. She opened the top drawer of her desk and brought out her phone. “Looks like I’ve got a call to make.”

  “Oh boy, I bet Ryan’s going to be happy to hear about this,” Amy said and chuckled. But that laugh didn’t reach her eyes.

  Between the two of them, they’d seen enough death and sadness to last a lifetime, even if it was after the fact.

  Heather swiped her finger across the screen and scrolled through to her contacts. She brought up Ryan’s name, then pressed the green icon.

  It rang twice.

  “Detective Shepherd,” he said.

  “Lottie didn’t do it.” Heather whipped the flash drive out of the port and capped it. So much for that safe removal option.

  “What? Heather, we’ve been over this.”

  “Ryan, I’m serious. I’ve got the evidence to prove she didn’t do it, right here.”

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll bite. If she didn’t do it, who did?”

  “Mike Martin,” Heather replied. “I’ve got a video of it. Remember how Lottie mentioned she saw Tina practicing lines on a video camera? Well, I think I know why we didn’t find it on the scene.”

  Ryan exhaled. A long, sigh of regret. “Because he removed it. Rookie mistake on my part.”

  “Come fetch me. I want to witness this arrest,” Heather said.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Heather hung up and sat back in her chair. “That’s that. He’s on the way.” Another case solved, at least. Even if it’d taken her longer than she’d have liked. Poor Lottie.

  The door to the office opened, and a man stepped inside. Surely, Ryan couldn’t be here already? No, impossible…

  Mike Martin slapped the office door shut behind himself and turned the key in the lock.

  “No,” Amy said. “No, no. No. That’s not supposed to happen.”

  Heather reached beneath the desk and pressed the panic button, then nudged Amy’s foot with her own. “Don’t make any sudden movements,” she whispered.

  Mike Martin faced them and cracked his knuckles.

  Chapter 17

  “Mr. Martin,” Heather said, and put up her trusty customer smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  The greasy-haired fellow licked his fat lips and pressed his back to her office door. “What were you doing by the tents?”

  “Pardon?” Heather asked.

  Knocks shook the door behind the murderer and muffled cries rang out. “Heather? Are you okay?” Ken’s voice. Oh gosh, if only they could break the door down and get inside.

  Amy whimpered. Heather stepped on her toe, lightly.

  “I saw you,” Mike said and raised his voice. “At the field. I saw you snooping around the tents. Why were you there?” He ran a hand over his hair, then wiped it down the front of his stained beige shirt.

  “I think the more apt question would be, why were you there, Mike? Why were you snooping around in that tent with the tarp?” Heather asked. All she had to do was stall.

  Ryan had already committed to fetching her at the store and she’d pressed the panic button for good measure.

  Amy gulped for air and gave Heather a crazy-eyed stare. Clearly, she didn’t understand the M.O. of this operation. She thought Heather had a death wish.

  “None of your business,” Mike said.

  “Here’s my theory, Mr. Martin. Would you like to hear it?” Heather asked.

  “No.” He cracked his knuckles again

  “Eh, I’ll tell you anyway.” Heather smiled at him again. Calm under pressure. That was what months of sleuthin’ had taught her. Keep calm, don’t panic, and eat lots of donuts afterward. “I believe that you were there looking for rats.”

  Mike Martin didn’t reply. Danger flashed behind his gaze.

  “You’re making him angry,” Amy whispered.

  “You were there looking for rats because you wanted to sabotage the show on Sunday. You wanted to ruin George Rockwell because he didn’t make you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”

  Mike clenched his jaw. “He deserved it,” Mike said.

  “Oh did he? Did he deserve ruination?” Heather asked. “That’s why you killed Tina, too. And why you would’ve killed Lottie if you’d gotten the chance.”

  “It was too much,” Mike replied. “Too much working with Tina. She was the one who came up with the stupid rat idea in the first place. She wanted to catapult herself to fame.”

  “And how did that make you feel?” Heather asked.

  The banging on the door to the office ceased. Heather exhaled. That had to mean something good.

  Amy shifted in her seat and grasped the armrests. A white-knuckled grip.

  “Angry,” Mike growled. “She wanted all the attention. All of it. She thought she could get away with it and she thought she was better than me.”

  “You wanted to be the star?” Heather asked, and brushed off her sweater. “You wanted to be the one who got the fame.”

  “I worked for it,” Mike said. “I worked hard for it every single day. I worked with Tina, even though she drove everyone crazy. George hated her too, you know. He despised her, but he didn’t have the strength to do the right thing.”

  “You think killing Tina was the right thing to do?”

  “Yeah,” Mike said, and his nose twitched. “I do. She deserved to die. And I deserved her job. But things don’t always work out the way they’re supposed to.”

  “No, they don’t,” Heather replied. She rose from her seat and planted her knuckles on her desk. “I’m going to make this very clear, Mr. Martin, you have one opportunity to surrender yourself to me, now. One. After that, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Mike asked, and threw back his head and laughed. “What are you going to do? Feed me donuts?”

  “Witty,” Heather remarked. “I’ll take that as a no, then?”

  “Of course, no. You’re both going to die,” Mike said. “I can’t let this get out.”

  Heather sighed and tilted her head to one side. She looked Mr. Martin up and down and ignored the nerves which bubbled in her belly. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

  “What?” Mike rushed toward the desk.

  The window behind Heather shattered and glass showered the desk and the carpet.

  “Freeze,” Ryan Shepherd yelled.

  Mike Martin stalled mid-stride and stuck his palms in the air, above his head.

  Heather looked back at her husband and smiled. He’d arrived in the nick of time, as per usual. He directed his gun at the murderer and didn’t move a muscle.

  “Stay where you are,” Ryan said.

  “I’ll unlock the door.” Heather walked around the desk and turned the key in the lock. The door burst inward, and officers streamed into the room, guns and cuffs out. It was over at last.

  Amy covered her face with both hands and bent over until her head was in her lap.

  Heather leaned against the wall and exhaled. Relief. That was all she fel
t. Pure relief.

  Chapter 18

  The clock in the center of the field ticked off the seconds toward the end of the round. Frantic bakers bustled from station to station in their tents.

  Heather wrenched her oven door open and brought out the batch of freshly baked choc donuts. She placed the tray on the counter, then walked to her steel bowl of ganache and whisked it through.

  She lifted the whisk and chocolate delight glooped off the end and dropped into the bowl below.

  Another camera drifted closer, and a reporter appeared with her microphone. “And here we are at Heather Shepherd’s tent,” she said.

  Heather looked up, and delight thrilled through her belly. Lottie Jameson grinned at her from the other side of the counter. “She’s our local donut maker, here in Hillside, and what fantastic donuts they are. Anything to say to the cameras, Heather? Care to describe your creation this afternoon?”

  “Sure,” Heather said and glanced up at the clock on the screen. Only two minutes to go.

  Luckily, she didn’t need the donuts to have cooled completely. The runnier the ganache, the better.

  “I’m making Double Chocolate Pistachio Donuts,” she said. “It’s quite a heavy chocolate batter, baked to perfection, a little moist in the middle, then draped in chocolate ganache and sprinkled with salted pistachio nuts.”

  “Wow,” Lottie said and looked over at the camera. “My mouth’s watering already, folks. You should smell this.”

  “Thanks,” Heather said, then pointed up at the clock. “I’d better finish up.”

  Lottie led her cameraman off into the distance and cleared up Heather’s view of the tent opposite her.

  Kate Laverne glared at her, piping bag in hand and with a cupcake on a plate in front of her.

  Heather popped one of the donuts out of its tray and arranged it on a plate, then picked up her ganache. She lifted the whisk and draped the chocolatey goodness over it. She grasped the ramekin of pistachios and sprinkled them over the top.

  She stepped back and admired the creation.

  The clock counted down, three, two, one, and an alarm blared across the field. Time was up.

  Heather put down her ramekin and swiped the back of her hand across her brow.