Donuts And Dead (Sleepy Fox Cafe Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Tart, Cynthia

  Donuts And Dead

  Sleepy Fox Café Mystery(Book 2)

  Cynthia Tart

  Copyright 2017 by Cynthia Tart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced

  in any way whatsoever, without written permission

  from the author, except in case of brief

  quotations embodied in critical reviews

  and articles.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any

  character, person, living or dead, events, place or

  organizations is purely coincidental. The author does not

  have any control over and does not assume any responsibility

  for third party websites or their content.

  First edition, 2017

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Wedding Bells and Childhood Hells

  Chapter 2: Bad Taste

  Chapter 3: A Touch of Poison

  Chapter 4: Accusations

  Chapter 5: A Lead And A Lurker

  Chapter 6: The Riddle Of The Donuts

  Chapter 7: The Curious Collector

  Chapter 8: The Poisoner’s Tale

  Chapter 1: Wedding Bells and Childhood Hells

  Lake Geneva, Switzerland, Ten Years Ago

  Barefoot and bloodied, Polly pelted like a frightened animal through the forest. The trees reared up around her, menacing behemoths in the night wrapped landscape, hemming her in and clawing at her with their outreached branches. She pushed them aside, plunging forwards blindly, the muddy ground slick and treacherous underfoot.

  Suddenly, she tripped on a root and went sprawling into the muck. Polly let out a ragged sob, exhaustion and fear overwhelming her. The pain from her broken nose was agonising and the milk maid outfit they had made her wear was nothing more than a sodden rag now, clinging to her trembling body.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her face against the wet earth, breathing in the scent of damp leaves. Her breathing was ragged and she started to slip into a haze. All she wanted to do was curl up into a tight protective ball and slip into sweet oblivion.

  The sound of a motorbike engine brought her fully awake again. She scrambled to her knees, spurred on by a fresh spike of terror. The yellow glare of a light pierced through the trees.

  “Polly!” a mocking voice called out. “Polly, where are you?”

  Polly felt like her heart was in her mouth. “Polly!” the voice called again, that cold, cruel voice she hated so much. “Come out, you little runt! Don’t make us angry or you’ll be sorry!”

  Polly bit down on a frightened sob and started pushing on through the forest, running away from the direction of the light.

  “I heard something! Over there!” another voice called out.

  “No!” Polly moaned under her breath. “Please, leave me alone!”

  The motorbike growled as it weaved through the trees, and another one suddenly came tearing up from the left. Polly caught glimpses of the bikes’ riders, slender horned figures straight out of Hell. It was too much for the frightened girl. She let out a terrified scream.

  Her pursuers homed in on her, and she used every ounce of her ebbing strength to run away from them. The trees started to thin out and she spotted the lake ahead, its placid, moon kissed waters beckoning her on.

  Tears streamed down her face, filling her eyes and blurring her vision and she stumbled again. As she did so, one of the bikes caught up with her, pouncing like a tiger. It overtook her effortlessly and swung lengthways, blocking her path.

  Polly stared up at the satanic face of the horned figure and tried to beg for mercy, but the words wouldn’t come out. She raised her mud-covered hands in a gesture of supplication, but it was no use either.

  With lightning speed, the rider lashed out with the iron bar they were carrying and it cracked against the side of Polly’s skull. The world careened around her as she went tumbling into pitiless blackness.

  * * *

  Lincolne Bay, Massachusetts, Today

  With perfect precision, Lottie placed the bride and groom topper onto the grandiose wedding cake she had spent half the day making. Taking a few steps back from the baking table, she admired her handiwork.

  It was a three-tier affair, each section held up by elegant Corinthian columns, and covered with pristine white icing. It was festooned with intricately designed icing roses of a deep red colour, which had been an utter nightmare to get right.

  Lottie felt they were a little too vivid, almost like they had been dipped in blood, but Genevieve Van Korbel had assured her they were just right. Her future daughter-in-law loved red roses and the redder and bloodier they looked, the better.

  Lottie still wasn’t sure, but who was she to argue? She was too overjoyed making the cake along with a host of baked goods for the forthcoming wedding to even question the bride’s taste.

  She had never met Mercedes Destelle, the woman who was going to marry Genevieve Van Korbel’s only grandson and heir, Orlando Van Korbel, but if Orlando was anything like Lottie remembered him before he left Lincolne Bay fifteen years ago, Mercedes must be one heck of a brave woman, or a crazy one.

  “Well, isn’t this a bustling hive of industry,” Abner Kelley announced as he ambled into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, he was munching on one of her cupcakes as he came over to join her. “I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks, I just hope Genevieve thinks the same,” Lottie replied, looking over the cake with an anxious eye. “I really don’t want to disappoint her.”

  “Crawler,” Abner said. “That’s the way it goes, isn’t it? Someone has a bit of money and people fawn all over them. Materialism is so vulgar.”

  “I didn’t hear you say no when she invited you to the wedding,” Lottie replied. “Your eyes bulged out of your head at the prospect of free food and champagne and a chance to ogle Mayleaf Manor. I know how much you like your house porn. If you want, I can ring ahead and say you’re not coming out of principle?”

  “I don’t want to disappoint the poor woman,” Abner sniffed. “I have always been a tower of strength to Genevieve Van Korbel and my absence would cause quite a stir in the society magazines. No, it would be cruel of me not to attend her loathsome grandson’s big day. Though I give the unholy union six months, and I’m being generous with that estimate.”

  “Always the spirit of optimism, Abner,” Lottie drawled. With deadly speed, she lashed out and slapped his hand as he reached out for one of the heart-shaped shortbread biscuits that were lying on a nearby tray. “Off! All this food is for the wedding!”

  “Ouch!” griped Abner rubbing his hand. His white walrus moustache bristled with indignation. “I’m going to the wedding you cruel girl! Where’s the harm in getting an advanced sample of what’s on offer?”

  “An advanced sample for you means eating half of what I’ve baked,” Lottie retorted, pointing to Abner’s rather ample belly. “You make a swarm of locusts look like finicky eaters.”

  “Tush and nonsense,” grumbled Abner. “I’m wasting away. One little titbit won’t harm.”

  “Come on, out,” Lottie said, guiding him to the door. “I’m taking no chances with you.”

  Abner was still chewing his cupcake and muttering as she marched him out of the kitchen and into the main floor of the shop. It was a typical Friday afternoon in the Sleepy Fox Bakery & Coffee Shop, the modest family business that Lottie had inherited from her father.

  Customers sat chatting, eating and drinking at the small café tables and Betsy Cromer, her part-time help, was keeping things under control as usual.

  “Sorry Lotti
e, he snuck by when I was serving,” Betsy said as Lottie and Abner stepped into the space behind the counter. “Next time, I’ll chain him to his chair.”

  “Why Mrs. Cromer I didn’t know you were so broad-minded,” Abner said, waggling his eyebrows at the rotund Irish woman. “Your husband is a lucky man.”

  “Enough of your cheek!” Betsy huffed, slapping him on the arm with her serving cloth.

  “Come on, let’s sit down,” Lottie said. “I take it you want another coffee with dollops of cream along with a cinnamon swirl?”

  “You can’t get round me that easily,” Abner said. “You attacked me without provocation in the kitchen. I believe all that baking has driven you quite mad.”

  “I believe you have driven me quite mad, Abner, go sit on the other side of the counter before there’s another unprovoked attack,” Lottie said. “I’ll fix you a coffee too Betsy, then go out back and have your break. You’ve been holding the fort for way too long today.”

  “Oh, don’t be worrying about me, dear,” Betsy replied in her lilting Irish accent. “It’s all hands to the deck with this wedding to prepare for. It’s you that should be having the rest.”

  “Pass the sick bucket,” Abner scoffed as he settled down on one of the stools lining the other side of the counter. “All this repulsive niceness is too much for my iron constitution.”

  “You should try being nice sometimes,” Lottie said, setting out his coffee and swirl in front of him. “Then you’ll realise not everybody is bitter and twisted like you.”

  “Don’t knock bitter and twisted,” Abner replied, taking a large bite from the swirl. “It gives you a healthy view of the world rather than looking at things whilst wearing a neon pink blindfold covered in star glitter and riding atop a rainbow tooting unicorn. Reality is grubby.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that,” Lottie replied, grimacing as she thought back to that nasty business with Tania Leigh twelve months ago. Her friend had been murdered right under her nose and it had sent shockwaves through the sleepy little coastal town.

  Lottie had discovered dark secrets about her friends and neighbours as she’d searched for Tania’s killer, uncovering a hotbed of jealously, greed and adultery. Even when the murderer had been brought to justice, the emotional wounds inflicted on everyone involved still hadn’t truly healed.

  “Besides, it’s not like you’ve had to cater for the whole wedding,” Abner was now saying, taking a noisy slurp of coffee. “Genevieve only wanted you to make the wedding cake and a few creamy fancies. That only takes five minutes. All the real catering is being done by Jayne Merriot. I just hope she doesn’t drip too much acid onto the food when she’s setting it all out.”

  “She spat quite a bit of acid at Lottie when she found out she wasn’t asked to make the cake as well,” Betsy said in a heated tone. “The Devil take that woman! You know she had the cheek to ring up here, ranting and raving when she found out she was sharing the catering duties. She told Lottie not to take the job if she knew what was good for her, but Lottie soon told her where to go.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Lottie said, handing Betsy a cup of coffee. “It’s so unprofessional. I’m surprised she’s still in business.”

  Jayne Merriot ran a restaurant and catering company in the neighbouring city of Scottfield. A resident of Lincolne Bay, Jayne had been fiercely competitive for as long as Lottie could remember. Her catering business was her life, and she didn’t take well to having someone else muscling into her territory, not that Lottie had any intention of doing that.

  “I don’t know why she had to take it so badly,” Lottie continued, thinking of their intense telephone conversation a few days ago. “Genevieve wanted me to make the cake and extra treats because she really loves my baking.

  I’m really pleased she asked me and for the big order she’s given me, but it’s not like I’m going to drive Jayne out of business. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m still excited for tomorrow, and Jayne’s not going to spoil that.”

  “What about Orlando?” asked Abner. A sly twinkle now danced in his eyes. “How’d you feel about seeing your childhood sweetheart after all these years, and marrying another woman as well? Are you not enraged with jealousy?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Lottie. “Orlando wasn’t my childhood sweetheart!”

  “Oh no, now I remember,” said Abner. “You desperately wanted to be his sweetheart, but you were too ugly for him.”

  Lottie didn’t rise to the bait, though Abner wasn’t far off the truth. Lottie had had a crush on Orlando ever since she was three years old. Lottie’s mom, Rachel, had worked as Genevieve’s accountant and the two women became good friends.

  When Rachel visited, she sometimes brought Lottie to Mayleaf Manor to play and that was where Lottie had first met Genevieve’s grandson. Orlando had been a shy and withdrawn little boy and had taken an instant dislike to the boisterous and outgoing Lottie.

  The first day they met in fact, the elder women had encouraged them both to play, and when Lottie had shown Orlando all the worms she’d found in the Manor’s garden, he got utterly horrified and ran off crying.

  Despite this inauspicious start to their relationship, Lottie developed feelings of affection for the delicate little guy that she could never really shake off. When they started kindergarten together, Orlando became less reserved and more obnoxious.

  He went out of his way to torment Lottie, pulling at her pigtails and kicking her in the shins whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  He made her cry on more than one occasion; perhaps it was revenge for that day with the worms in the garden? But despite his horrible behaviour, Lottie always forgave him. She liked him and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Her attraction got worse as they got older. Orlando’s floppy blond hair and angelic features got all the girls swooning, Lottie included. He knew he was good-looking too, and was insufferable as a consequence. He was a terrible snob as well.

  While Lottie went to the local middle school, Orlando received a private education as fitting for someone from his background and he never missed a chance to remind Lottie of the social gulf between them.

  Genevieve, despite being an extremely wealthy woman, put on no pretensions and was nice to everyone regardless of their social standing or how much money they earned. She’d tried to instil the same values in Orlando, but it didn’t seem to work.

  Rachel still went to visit Genevieve even after she stopped doing the old lady’s books, and Lottie went along sometimes to catch a glimpse of her beloved Orlando. She was a gangly fourteen-year-old by that stage, with thick braces and heavy acne. Orlando, on the other hand, looked like a fashion model with his flawless porcelain white skin and soulful blue eyes.

  He barely looked at her during those visits, and when he did, it was with a huge serving of contempt mixed in with a side order of pity. Sometimes, he would tease her mercilessly if some of his wealthy friends were visiting and for a long time, Lottie would cry herself to sleep.

  When Orlando was sixteen, he went overseas to continue his education at a well renowned college, leaving Lottie to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

  She thought she’d die without him and told everyone within earshot that she would. Mom and dad weathered the storm bravely until Lottie discovered there were plenty more fish in the sea.

  “We were not sweethearts because we were not compatible,” Lottie said in an even tone. “I admit I had a brief infatuation but it’s long since it faded away, a bit like your popularity.”

  Abner chuckled. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. You mooned after that boy for the best part of your childhood and you expect me to believe you’re not bothered that Orlando is marrying another woman. I can see you seething with rage as we speak. Seething, I say.”

  Lottie narrowed her eyes. “If I’m seething Abner, it’s no doubt because I’ve just remembered you haven’t settled up your tab this month, in fact I don’t think you’ve
settled it for quite a few months. Give me a minute and I’ll just take a look.”

  “Ah well, I should really be going,” Abner said, scrambling off the stool. He took a large swig of his coffee and put his half eaten cinnamon swirl into his pocket. “I have to make myself beautiful for tomorrow’s big day. You never know, I might end up catching the bride’s bouquet, and then you’ll have another wedding to cater for.”

  As Lottie and Betsy watched, he hurried away, stopped part way and came back to the counter. He picked up his half empty coffee mug and then left. The two women looked at each other and burst out laughing.

  “I swear I’ve never seen that man move so fast,” Betsy said.

  Lottie grinned. “You only have to drop the slightest hint that he has to dip into his own pocket and Abner moves faster than grease lightning.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind when he gets too annoying,” Betsy replied.

  “Don’t use it too much or we’ll never see him again, and his tab is pretty huge now,” warned Lottie. “I’m going to have to take out a second mortgage if he doesn’t settle up soon.”

  “Not to worry, your fee from Genevieve should go towards covering the loss,” Betsy said, finishing her coffee and washing the cup in the sink.

  “Tell me about it,” Lottie said with feeling. “She’s being really generous. I feel guilty taking her money.”

  “Don’t be dear, you’ve worked hard. You deserve every penny.”

  “It’s not just about the money though. I want to make sure Genevieve is pleased with what I’ve done. I know she wants everything to be perfect. She has planned the whole day down to the last detail. I just hope Orlando appreciates all the hard work she’s put in.”

  “Orlando doesn’t appreciate anything, the selfish so-and-so,” Betsy muttered. “That poor woman has done everything for him and he couldn’t care less. He hasn’t visited her in years.”