“Keep a low profile,” Heather whispered.
“Right. I’m the Queen of low profiles,” Amy said, in a monotone.
Heather opened the door, and the wave of country music overwhelmed them. Amy grimaced and jimmied her fingers in her ears. “I hate loud music,” she said.
They hurried inside and walked down a short hall and into a packed living room. Men and women chatted and ate food, laughed or did a side-by-side dance in the center of the room.
Brooke Bolde had pushed a wooden coffee table against one wall, and on it sat several Donuts Delights boxes.
“Am I seeing things?” Heather asked. “Or is that from my store?”
Amy’s jaw dropped. “No way. That doesn’t make any sense at all. We haven’t filled any orders this big for anyone in Hillside.”
Heather walked to the boxes and stopped in front of the table. “They’re definitely ours. Who’s ordered this many in the last week?”
“Uh, off the top of my head? It was an online order for a woman in Dallas. Cannot remember her name, but I sent that order off myself and I know for a fact it arrived at its destination,” Amy replied.
“Curious,” Heather said, then hummed a tune in time with the beat.
Amy bent and inhaled through her nose. “Nuh uh. No way. These aren’t Donut Delights donuts,” she said. She flipped open the lid of the box closest to her and recoiled. “Just as I suspected. These are Lawless donuts. Look at the quality.”
Heather picked one up then broke it in half. Stale crumbs fell from the break. “They’re definitely not ours. But why?”
“Geoff trying to sabotage the store again?” Amy shook her head and took the pieces from Heather. She put them back in the box, then closed it. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it one bit.”
“Me neither.” Heather turned back to the party. She froze and swallowed.
Brooke Bolde stood a foot away and stared at her through narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, Hi,” Amy said and waved enthusiastically. “We heard there’s a part and wanted to join in on the festivities. What are we celebrating?”
Heather would’ve given anything to shush her bestie, but she couldn’t do that without breaking her façade of cool. “Mrs. Bolde. Is this your husband’s funeral party?”
Brooke snorted, then blocked it with the back of her hand. “No. This is not my husband’s party. It’s mine.”
“What for?”
“I’m leaving in a week. Going on a big holiday,” Brooke replied.
But Brooke couldn’t leave. This was an open investigation, and if she left, she’d get in huge trouble with the Hillside Police Department.
“You can’t leave,” Heather said.
Brooke ignored her comment. “I tasted your donuts,” she said and pointed at the boxes. “They’re disgusting. I can’t believe you charge people for them.”
“Oh boy,” Amy whispered. “That was a good subject change.”
“Mrs. Bolde, I’m afraid I’m going to have to speak to the police about your planned departure,” Heather said, coolly, above the thump of the beat.
“Get out of my house,” Brooke shrieked.
Heather and Amy jolted back a step. Laura appeared behind Brooke and placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Calm down, Brooke. It’s okay,” she said.
Brooke raised her arm and gestured to Heather. “She threatened me.”
“Heather,” Amy said. “This party’s boring. Let’s hit the road.” She clamped her hand on Heather’s forearm and guided her back down the hall.
Anger burrowed holes in Heather’s calm. She couldn’t handle rude people.
“I didn’t threaten her,” she said.
“No, you didn’t.” Amy patted her on the arm, then opened the front door and walked them out into the night. “You warned her. There’s a big difference.”
Brooke Bolde wanted to leave town. Another piece of the puzzle without a place.
Chapter 13
“Bye, Heather,” Emily Potts said, and waved from the front door of Donut Delights.
The sun stretched warm fingers over the horizon. Another orange glazed evening in Heather’s donut store. She’d flipped the open sign to closed a half hour before, but the bakery wasn’t cleared out yet.
Eva Schneider sat in her favorite spot, and Lilly perched on the chair across from her, her school books laid out on the glass top of the wrought iron table. She chewed on the end of her pencil, then tapped on the side of her page.
Heather grinned and lifted her apron strap over her head, then hung it on a peg on the wall behind her.
“You look happy,” Amy said, from the kitchen door. She walked to the counter, then grabbed a couple of cups and placed them beneath the spouts of the coffee machine.
“I am happy,” Heather replied. “But I’m also frustrated.”
“I don’t even need to ask why anymore.” Amy pressed a series of buttons, and the coffee machine made purring noises. “It’s the case.”
“It’s always the case.” Heather sighed and sat down on one of the stools at the counter. She placed her palms on her thighs and picked at a tiny hole in her jeans.
“So, let’s talk about it,” Amy replied. “What do we know so far?”
“Too much.” Heather brushed off her jeans, then accepted a cup from Amy. She slurped the hot coffee and choked, then cleared her throat. “Billy was attacked in Geoff’s store with a rock-hard fudge ball. A Lawless trademark.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say the name of the man’s bakery out loud. It still struck the wrong chord with her.
“There was footage of Geoff arguing with Billy Bolde in the store,” Amy said.
“Yeah, and Geoff had purchased a certification course from him. As did Jamie Purdue.” Heather took another sip of coffee then reached out and placed her cup on the counter. The porcelain clinked on the glass.
“And Jamie met Geoff at the store that day, but left, because he didn’t feel good about confronting Geoff about the money,” Amy said, then shook her head. “I don’t know Heather. It just seems like the culprit here is obvious.”
Heather puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “I know what you’re thinking, but we can’t make those kinds of assumptions yet.”
“But it all adds up,” Amy said and leaned the heel of her palm on the counter’s edge. “Geoff has been super desperate of late too.”
“What do you mean?”
Amy wriggled her lips then narrowed them. “He followed you to the restaurant during your last case. He’s threatened you professionally, and he’s been sneaking around interfering in your investigations for weeks. This is like, the culmination of a whole bucket load of crazy.”
“Assumptions.” Heather lifted a finger and waved it at her bestie. “Assumptions can see the wrong person locked away. We don’t want that.”
“But we also can’t deny the evidence. I mean, how much more do you need. His fingerprints are on the scene too.”
“But not on the fudge ball.” Only because the cops hadn’t been able to lift anything from it.
The truth was, Heather didn’t want to admit that Geoff had done something this heinous. He’d always been a bit cuckoo for cocoa puffs, but murder? That was another thing entirely.
“There are other factors to consider,” Heather said. “Bolde had a disgruntled wife who threw a going away party after he passed. I mean, it doesn’t get much more insensitive than that.”
“Yeah, but there’s nothing else linking her to the crime scene,” Amy said and folded her arms across her chest. “Don’t get me wrong, I think that’s deplorable, but we can’t lock her up for deplorable.”
Ames tipped her head forward and speared Heather with one of her soul-searching stares. The kind that said, “You know I’m right and you’re wrong, woman.”
“All right!” Heather hissed. She shook her shoulders and arms then sighed. “I just can’t get rid of that feeling, though.”
“
Which one? Impending doom? The slow march of time, guiding us toward the graveyard on the other side of town?” Amy sipped her coffee then grimaced. “That was dark.”
“Pretty morose.”
“No, I meant the coffee,” Amy replied.
Heather chuckled and stroked her eyes with her fingers, then pinched them at the bridge of her nose. “I just get this feeling in my gut that it’s not right. My senses tell me that there’s a piece of the puzzle missing. They’ve never been wrong before.”
“I know,” Amy said, then leaned in and lowered her voice. “But Heather, what if this is less about your senses and more about your need to preserve Geoff?”
“Preserve him?!” Heather coughed a laugh. “Oh get real.”
“I’m serious. He’s been kind of like a regular in our lives. Not one in the store, sure, but he’s around. He makes things interesting. He acts the fool and then he disappears into his hidey hole. But, he’s never disappeared for this long before. And he was arrested last week.”
The words slipped through Heather’s left ear and out the right. Amy had a good point, but still… that feeling. Ugh, that feeling told her otherwise.
“Hidey hole,” Heather whispered and tapped the side of her nose. “That’s it! We’ll go check out Geoff’s place. If he’s not there, then there will be something to help us out. Am I, right?”
“I’m with you on this one,” Amy said. “But I say we bring Dave for extra protection.”
“Tomorrow morning?” Heather asked.
“Deal,” Amy replied.
They shook on it, then returned to their coffees. Lilly and Eva laughed about something at the front of the store, and the sun set slowly outside their warm, donut-perfumed cocoon.
Chapter 14
Dave trotted down the flat path which led to Geoff’s home without a care in the world. Typical Dave attitude.
Amy couldn’t mirror that if she tried.
Heather’s gaze remained focused. If they could find Geoff, everything about this case would be easier. A simple interview would help her ascertain what’d happened in the bakery and why.
Failing that, a few hard clues would have to do.
“Spooky,” Amy said and stared at the misted glass set in Geoff’s front door. “Who had this kind of thing, anymore?”
“Geoff does, apparently,” Heather replied. She knocked on the wooden section of the door beside the glass.
Silence replied.
“Oops, nobody’s home. Looks like we must leave. What a pity,” Amy said, and spun on her heel.
“Not so fast,” Heather said and tried the door handle. Locked. “There might be a way inside. If I know, Geoff, and I do, through no choice of my own might I add, he’s got a key hidden around here somewhere.”
“Heather,” Amy said. “I know I shook on it with you, but this kinda freaks me out. I’m sure he’s the murderer.” She leaned around the corner and stared out at the road.
A solitary car trundled by. Dave barked, then sat down on Amy’s foot. The morning sun baked the sidewalk, and for once, there wasn’t a breath of wind.
“It’s a perfect morning,” Heather said. “Don’t be so melancholy.”
“Perfect for murder,” Amy muttered.
Heather patted her bestie on the back, then walked down the path and took a right. She strolled through the front garden and to the side of the house.
The term ‘garden’ didn’t suit what Geoff hadn’t done with the place. Brown, brittle grass poked out of hardened dirt, and a rusted trash can sat empty and lidless next to his back door. A faucet dripped water somewhere nearby.
Heather hummed the Jaws theme song, and Amy whacked her on the shoulder.
“Cut it out,” she whined.
Heather chuckled, then placed her fists on her hips and looked around the non-garden. “If I were a crazy baker, where would I hide the key to my house?”
Dave yawned and shook his ears. His collar jangled.
“What about under the mat?” Amy asked and pointed to the square of fabric beneath the back door.
“No, too obvious. Not Geoff enough,” Heather replied.
She glanced over at the tree at the end of the garden, then froze. That was a perfect Geoff spot. She hurried over to it, then dug her fingers between the branches which split in the center of the trunk.
“Ah ha!” Heather drew out a key. “Bingo.”
“Oh great,” Amy said, in a monotone. “Now we get to break into a crazy man’s house. I am so excited.”
Heather walked to the back door and inserted the key, then turned it. The lock clicked, and she opened the door. A wave of mothball scent hit her in the face, and Amy choked on the fumes.
“Oh goodness,” she said, between coughs. “Oh, what is that?”
“That’s Geoff for you,” Heather said. She covered her mouth with her hand, then hurried inside.
Dave whined and hung back. Amy stalled on the top step. “I think we’ll stay out here, for now, Heather.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied.
Heather hurried through the tiny kitchen and into the dingy hall beyond. She had to find something, anything which could point her in the right direction. The mothball scent faded slightly, or perhaps she’d gotten used to it, and she dropped her palm.
She entered Geoff’s living room and glanced around.
A battered sofa and a withered pot plant peered at her through the gloom. No television. A desk in one corner littered with papers.
“There we go,” she whispered.
Heather made a beeline for the desk and puffs of dust rose from the carpet beneath her. Just how long had it been since Geoff had cleaned? Or been home?
She stopped beside the desk and grasped a handful of papers, then shuffled through them. Bills, a letter to the editor at the Hillside Tribune, and what, wait?
“A letter to Billy Bolde,” Heather whispered. She scanned the page and read under her breath. “Unacceptable behavior. I will take you to the Better Business Bureau if you don’t refund my money immediately. You have been warned. Things are going to get serious.”
Heather folded the page and tucked it into her back pocket.
She’d already known that Geoff had been messed around by Billy Bolde and that he’d wanted a meeting.
Heather sighed and marched back through the kitchen to the back door.
Amy turned to face her. “Oh good,” she said, “I think I heard something in the bushes.”
Heather chuckled, but the mirth died in her throat. They didn’t have anything to go on, and every piece of evidence she’d found pointed squarely at Geoff Lawless.
“Where would he have gotten the syringes?” Heather asked. “It’s not like he’s in a medical profession.”
Amy shrugged but beckoned for Heather to step outside. She did so and shut the door behind her. She turned the key in the lock, then hurried to put it back where she’d found it.
Chapter 15
Heather shifted her laptop on her dressing table and gathered her pink fluffy robe closer to her chest.
“Billy Bolde,” she muttered and typed his name into the search bar. “Billy Bolde. Billy Bolde.”
Lilly had gone to sleep hours ago, and Ryan was due home in fifteen minutes, but Heather couldn’t sleep.
She couldn’t shake the dull sense of disbelief in her gut. Geoff Lawless, a murderer?
“No,” Heather said, a knee-jerk reaction. “That can’t be right.”
She’d spent an hour tossing and turning. Another hour making pancakes and fending off Dave’s insistence on eating them. Nothing. No ideas.
No tie-ins which would show her the truth.
“Ugh,” she whispered, then hit enter.
The only missing element was the victim himself. She’d never met the guy, and she didn’t know too much about him.
The search page popped up and listed Billy Bolde’s Facebook profiles. Billy Bolde’s from Ohio, California, and even one in Russia for heaven’s sake. But no Billy Bo
lde in little ol’ Hillside.
She scrolled down the screen, then clicked the number two at the bottom of the page.
The second search results page opened. Heather set to scrolling again.
“Come on,” she whispered. “There’s got to be something about him.”
The man had been terrible at his job. Or he’d been a petty criminal who’d duped willing participants in his investigation course. He’d swindled them out of their hard-earned cash and probably made a lot of enemies.
How many enemies?
It couldn’t only be Jamie and Geoff.
“Then who?”
Heather scrolled some more, then froze. Her eyes widened to the size of jumbo donuts.
She clicked on the link, and Texas state police records opened on her screen. A mugshot of one Billy Bolde stared back at her.
She’d totally forgotten to ask Ryan about Billy’s criminal history. She scanned the details beneath the mugshot and shuddered. “Assault,” she whispered. “So he was worse than we thought.”
But who had he assaulted and why?
Maybe it was a long shot, but –
The door banged downstairs. Or, wait, no, that’d been a knock on the door. Heather rose from her cushy boudoir chair and retied the knot in the rope of her thick robe.
She padded to her bedroom door, then creaked it open.
The hall light shone above her head, and Lilly’s door was shut tight, her name, in bright pink illuminated by the glare.
Heather tiptoed out into the hall, then shuffled to the stairs and down them. “Hello?” She called out, softly.
Not a sound.
Dave padded up behind her, his collar jangled from the movement and licked her bare ankle. At least she had him for the company, if not protection.
Heather grasped the wooden balustrade and walked down the stairs. Her hand slid on the polished surface.
It could be Ryan, home early from work. He was due any minute now.
“Who’s there?” Heather called out and stopped at the base of the stairs.
No sound except for the rush of blood in her ears. The soft patter of Dave’s claws on the boards.
Coffee Treacle Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 24 Page 5
