Passion Fruit Punch Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 34

by Susan Gillard

  “No problem,” Col said. He reached back and snagged a package off the low counter behind the table. “And here’s the new set of coupons you asked for.”

  Heather accepted them gladly and forced a smile. Poor Freddy Mars stuck in her mind.

  Chapter 9

  Ryan placed the piping hot pizza on their kitchen table and grinned at her above the vapors of pure delight, which rose from the cheese and toppings. “For you, Madame.”

  “Oh wow,” Heather said. Saliva filled her mouth, instantly. The tangy scents swirled up her nose. She could hardly contain herself. “This looks amazing, love. When did you learn to make pizza?”

  “I learned when I was a teenager,” Ryan said. “You won’t believe it, but my old dad was quite the chef in his day. Anyway, the one summer we spent a lot of time in one of these quaint camping sites and all he brought was a pizza stone.”

  “What?” Heather swallowed to avoid drooling all over the checked tablecloth Ryan had chosen for their dinner date.

  “Yeah, it was quite rough, but there was a farmer’s market down the road, and we loaded up on veggies and homemade cheese, real fresh ground flour. He taught me a few things that week. I came back a pro. I’ve never forgotten how, since then.”

  “Color me impressed,” Heather said. “You’d better slice that pie before I die of hunger, though.”

  Ryan wiggled his eyebrows at her, then lifted the pizza cutter. He sliced the pie into eight even pieces. A total pro, as he’d said.

  “Here you go.” He grabbed a silver spatula and lifted a slice of the pizza stone. He delivered it to Heather’s plate. “Careful, it’s hot.”

  Heather’s fingers inched toward her plate. She could hardly wait a second longer. She lifted the slice and took a bite of the cheesy goodness. The tangy cheese, the bite of an olive, the balsamic vinegar in the tomato paste on the base, the rich, meatiness of the pepperoni, all of it combined to form the perfect flavor.

  “Oh my heavens,” she said. “I’m transported. Ryan, this is incredible.”

  He nodded. “I know.” No modesty on this one, but she didn’t begrudge him that one bit.

  The pizza was that good.

  He sat down across from her and grabbed a slice for himself. “We’ll have to save some for Lils when she comes back from her Amy time.”

  “Totally,” Heather replied. “If I manage to restrain myself from eating the whole thing.” She gulped down two more bites, her tummy growling for more. She couldn’t get the pizza down fast enough.

  They ate in silence for a while. Heather slipped another piece onto her plate and ate that too. She grasped her glass of wine and took a quick sip, then put it back down again.

  “I’m so lucky to have you,” she said, around a mouthful of food.

  “Not as lucky as I am to have you,” Ryan replied and winked at her.

  Heather usually tried to postpone the ‘case talk’ until later on in their evening, but the food had already started to settle, and she’d slowed her frantic gobbling, at last.

  “Have you heard anything?” She asked.

  Ryan didn’t have to ask what she meant. “Yeah, I have actually. I tried to get hold of you this morning, but I figured you were busy.”

  “I know Freddy passed,” she said and pulled a face.

  “Yeah, and we got some results back from the lab,” Ryan replied. “The blood from the house, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” she said. “What did you find?”

  “Firstly, they found that the DNA belonged to the vic. So a dead end there. We didn’t find anything that matches the injury on Freddy’s head,” Ryan said.

  “So no murder weapon.”

  “Exactly. And secondly, they found two sets of fingerprints in the house. One partial and one match,” Ryan said.

  Heather’s sense of curiosity threatened to overwhelm her. “A match? To whom?”

  “A woman by the name of Gertrude Mars.”

  “A relative?” Heather asked.

  “His sister,” Ryan replied. “She had a record for petty theft. Shoplifting from a pet food store of all places.”

  Heather took another bite of pizza and soothed herself through chewing. “Gertrude Mars. Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “Maybe because you know everyone in Hillside. She’s probably come into Donut Delights on more than one occasion.”

  Heather cast her mind back and examined the long stream of faces which passed the front of her counter every day. Nothing.

  “She’s the baseball coach at Hillside High,” Ryan said, at last.

  “Baseball coach,” Heather said. “That makes sense. Wait, is she kind of middle-aged, brown hair in a bob?” A woman matching that description had come into the store not too long ago and had brought an all-female baseball team with her.

  “I haven’t interviewed her yet.”

  “Leave that to me,” Heather said. “Do you have her cell number?”

  “Yeah, I’ll forward it to you tomorrow at work to add to your case file on the subject.” Ryan picked up his glass of wine by its thin stem and tilted it toward her. “Cheers,” he said.

  She clinked her glass against his. “Thanks for everything,” Heather said.

  “anytime,” Ryan replied. “Now, let’s forget the case for a second and focus on enjoying the rest of our evening.”

  “The rest of it?” Heather asked. “You mean this delicious meal isn’t it?”

  “Oh no, no, no,” Ryan replied. “Tonight, we’re watching Doctor Zhivago. And I’ll make the popcorn.”

  Heather gripped her tummy. “I’m so full already.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, woman,” he said and winked at her. He tossed down his napkin.

  Heather sat back with a smile. At least this movie wouldn’t end in a horror scene like it had last week.

  Chapter 10

  Heather swiveled in her chair in the office of Donut Delights and gazed out the window. Storm clouds drifted on the horizon, heavy with the promise of rain and maybe a few rolls of thunder.

  Dave didn’t mind thunder as much, anymore, but Cupcake always hid under Lilly’s bed when one of Hillside’s infamous thunderstorms blew into town.

  Heather chewed her bottom lip and tapped her thumbs against the locked screen of her cell. Ryan had already texted her Gertrude’s number, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she shouldn’t call.

  It wasn’t as if the kids would be out playing baseball today, or she’d interrupt the woman.

  “What’s gotten into you?” She shook her head at herself. Had last week’s case made her go soft?

  She’d never had any qualms about calling the families of the deceased in the past, and they had found Gertrude’s fingerprint in Freddy’s house. Could she have been the one who’d argued with him?

  Regardless of how the call went, she had to head back to Freddy’s place and sweep through for more evidence, now that she knew what to look for – more information about Gertrude.

  Heather set her jaw and clicked the button on the side of her phone. She swiped to unlock, then switched through to her contacts list. She’d already entered the number and saved it.

  “Here goes nothing,” she muttered. Heather pressed the call icon, then placed the phone against her ear.

  Tinny rings sounded down the line.

  Heather pressed her palm to her stomach. Gosh, why was she nervous? This was ridiculous. She’d spent hours investigating –

  “Hello?” A woman clicked on.

  “Hi, hello,” Heather replied. She exhaled to calm herself. “Is that Gertrude Mars?”

  “Yeah, this is Gertrude. Who’s askin’?”

  Great start to the conversation. “I’m Heather Shepherd,” she said. “I’m investigating the murder of your brother, Freddy Mars.”

  “You’re a cop?”

  “No, I’m a consultant to the Hillside Police Department,” she said, and her voice wavered. A hint of nerves. For heaven’s sake! “Do you have
a few minutes to answer some questions?”

  “I’m currently at work,” Gertrude said. “I don’t want to talk about this over the phone.” She dropped the rough tone, and a sob shattered Heather’s hard lines.

  “Miss Mars, I’m truly sorry for your loss. I assure you, I’m here to do everything I can to find out what happened to your brother,” Heather said.

  The sobs continued, and Gertrude didn’t say anything to stop them.

  “Do you have a moment to speak –”

  “Can’t you tell I’m upset about this?” Gertrude snapped, and sniffled right afterward. “My brother is dead and the last thing I said to him was – was –” The end of her sentence dissolved into tears.

  Heather gritted her teeth.

  A knock rat-tatted on her office door, the knob turned, and Amy slipped in, bearing a tray of coffee and donuts.

  “I’ll speak to you another time, Miss Mars,” Heather said. “I truly am sorry for your loss.”

  Gertrude hung up before Heather could get all the way through the sentence.

  “Uh oh,” Ames said and put down the tray of treats. “That didn’t sound good. Was she angry?”

  “No,” Heather said. “Totally distraught. She couldn’t stop crying. Ugh, I feel terrible. I should’ve gone with my gut and given it a day or two before I approached her.”

  “Crime doesn’t sleep,” Ames said and plonked down in her seat in front of Heather’s desk. “It’s almost closing time. I figured you’d want to go snooping around Freddy’s house again.”

  “You know me too well. I assume that’s why you brought the sustenance,” Heather replied.

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to go adventuring on an empty stomach,” Amy said, and grabbed a Passion Fruit Punch donut off the tray. She bit into it and gasped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” She said, around a mouthful of donut. “I just got the surprise strawberry jelly bit, now.”

  Heather picked up her coffee and drank the foam off the top. “I’m a bit stressed about the case this week.”

  “Because he collapsed in front of us?” Amy asked, and shuddered. Crumbs dropped into her lap.

  “No, because Col is involved. And because I don’t feel I have the right types of evidence. This was a little complicated, after all. Our victim died in hospital, and the murder weapon and actual time of the attack are murky at best.”

  “Are you going to let this one go?” Ames asked. “Let the cops handle it?”

  “Oh please, you know I’d never let that happen,” Heather replied, and glugged down more of the coffee. “I need to find evidence which links one of the suspects to the crime. We have Gertrude’s fingerprints on the scene, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she attacked Freddy. She could’ve visited before the attack or even afterward.”

  “But you can’t interview her because she’s crazy with grief?” Amy asked, and arched her left eyebrow, penciled to perfection. “Convenient.”

  “I know what you’re thinking, and I agree to a degree, but I think it’d be best to give her some time. I’ll go speak to her tomorrow,” Heather said.

  Ames lifted her half-donut and tipped it toward her friend. “We’d better hurry over to that house before it gets dark. I doubt that greasy neighbor dude would be happy to see us there after dark.”

  “Yeah, I have to pick up Lils from Eva, anyway.” Heather put down her coffee and turned her gaze back to the storm clouds on the horizon. “It looks like rain,” she said.

  A chain of lightning pierced the clouds.

  Chapter 11

  Heather and Amy trotted up the garden path toward the two front steps of Freddy Mar’s wooden home. The empty windows, shrouded by thin curtains, were dark. Lightning cracked overhead.

  “The sooner we get this done, the better. Cupcake needs Lilly at home during a thunderstorm,” Heather said.

  “I can’t believe it’s this dark, already. It’s barely past 4 pm.” Ames rubbed her upper arms and eyed the next door neighbor’s home.

  Dunkle’s windows remained dark, too, though he’d left one of the front ones open and his curtain whipped out of the window, tossed by the wind. It fluttered and billowed outward, creating strange shapes in beige taffeta.

  The first drops of rain splatted onto the rough stone path, and they sped up. Amy darted onto the front step, hooked the toe of her shoe in one of the boards and toppled forward.

  She slapped onto the wooden porch, face first.

  “Oh my gosh!” Heather rushed up the stairs beside her. “Ames, are you okay?”

  Amy groaned. “I just fell up the stairs. I fell up them. Who does that?”

  “You apparently,” Heather replied, and grabbed her friend by the arm. “Here let me help you up.”

  Heather and Amy scrambled upright, but Ames’ pants leg dragged on the loose wooden board below. She sat down on the porch and tugged on the fabric, her knuckles white from the grip. “Ugh, this is ridiculous.”

  “Don’t,” Heather said. “You’ll tear your pants.”

  “I don’t see another way out of this mess,” Amy replied, and gave another great tug. A thread snapped, but they didn’t come free. “Unbelievable.”

  “Hold on. They’re probably hooked on a rusty nail or something. I’ll get you free.”

  “Rusty nail, gosh,” Amy said and swiped a rain drop off the thigh of her jeans. It soaked through the material. “Trust me to tie myself to a murder house.”

  Heather hopped down the stairs and fiddled with her tote bag. The rain hadn’t started in earnest yet, but another fat drop hit the back of her hand. A warning – they didn’t have much time.

  She brought out her cell and clicked on her flashlight app. “Here we go. Let’s take a look at the situation.”

  “Sure. I’ll just do my nails or whatever,” Amy said and picked at her manicure.

  Heather ignored her bestie and dropped down beside her hooked jeans. One of the boards on the bottom step had come loose, and the jagged edge of one of three nails had captured Ames’ jean leg, as she’d suspected.

  “Yeah, I can get this loose,” Heather said. “Sit tight.”

  Amy grunted. She couldn’t do much else, at the moment.

  Heather balanced the flashlight in on the porch step and aimed it at her bestie’s leg. She gripped the leg of the jeans on either side of the nail and lifted it. It snapped back and didn’t budge. “What are these made of?”

  “They’re skinny jeans,” Amy said. “And they’re like, one percent elastane, or whatever it’s called. Am I doomed? Should I order floors for my impending starvation and funeral?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Heather replied, and tugged the pants again. They snapped out of her grip. “We’ll all come visit you. I’ll bring donuts.”

  “Oh, how kind of you,” Amy replied, and snorted a laugh.

  “Shush for a second. I need to focus here.” Heather placed her fists on her hips and ignored the renewed wave of raindrops which scattered down the back of her cotton Donut Delights shirt.

  Heather wangled the jeans free from the nail. A rip and the material around the hole tore.

  “Freedom!” Amy lifted her leg and worked it back and forth. “I thought I was a goner.”

  Heather didn’t answer. She lifted her flashlight and aimed it at the loose board. White flashed between the slats.

  “What’s wrong?” Amy asked. She scootched to the edge of the porch and peered down at the step.

  “There’s something caught in here. A piece of paper. Here, hold this for a second,” she said and handed Ames her cell.

  Amy took it and aimed the flashlight at the hole. “If it’s something important, you have my eager clumsiness to thank.”

  “Careful,” Heather said and yanked the loose board up. She held it there and peered into the dusty compartment below it. An image glared up at her from within.

  Several smiling faces, including Freddy Mars.

  Heather reached into t
he compartment and grabbed the photo. She brought it out and held it aloft. Ames shone the flashlight directly on the picture.

  A printed title sat in front of the group of kids and adults.

  Hillside Children’s Shelter 2016

  “What is it?” Amy asked.

  “It’s a photo from the children’s shelter, from last year.”

  “Maybe Freddy dropped it on the way into his house,” Amy said.

  “I’d agree, except Freddy’s got a big black ‘x’ over his head,” Heather said. She flipped the photo over and scanned the words scrawled across its back. “Stay out of the way,” she said, out loud.

  “It’s a threat,” Amy said.

  Heather put the plank down and rose from her position. “But who sent it?”

  “And why was it under the porch?”

  “Maybe someone left it on the welcome mat, and it blew away,” Heather said and scratched her chin. That still didn’t answer the question as to who’d left the photo there.

  “It’s got to be Hilda Groats,” Amy said. “I mean, she’s the one who said she didn’t want to interfere, right?”

  “Right,” Heather said. “And how many people would’ve had access to the picture? Certainly not our other suspects.”

  “Should we march over there and speak to her?” Amy asked, and took the picture from Amy. She studied it up close and pulled a face. “This is so creepy.”

  “No,” Heather said and swept her sleeve back to check her watch. “No, I need to fetch Lils and tomorrow we’ve got to go have a chat with Gertrude.”

  “Why?” Ames asked. “She’s not in this photo.”

  “No, but we know she had access to Freddy’s house, and that means she could’ve had access to his photo album too.”

  The rain pattered down from the heavens, and Heather dashed back down the path. Amy squeaked and followed her, the picture flapping in her grasp.

  Chapter 12

  The storm had passed as quick as it’d arrived, and Cupcake had returned to her usual level of kitty cuteness. Or ‘evilness’ as Amy called it.

  The two best friends strolled down the sidewalk, each with a leash in hand, and a spring in their steps. Ryan had taken Lilly out for ice cream since it was a Friday, and Heather had the afternoon to investigate, unhindered.