“I catch your drift,” Ryan replied, seriously. He brought out his notepad and pen, handsome as could be in his uniform.
Ballistic scratched beneath a black eye patch which covered his left eye, blinking at the same time. “That’s what was so funny about it. He didn’t look like the huntin’ type, but guess what his name was? Cracked me up when he signed the slip.”
“What was his name?” Ryan asked, scrawling something across the top of the page.
“Hunter. Get it? He had this long blonde hair. Came in about a week ago to buy the rifle and seemed confused when I asked him what he wanted to go huntin’ for. Name like that, hah!” Ballistic ran a hand over his buzz cut. “Anyways, these are the same brand of shells I sold him.”
“I’m going to take these as evidence,” Ryan said, collecting the box off the counter.
“Sure, sure,” Bob said, nodding. “Anything else you need, sir?”
“No, that will be all. Thanks for your time,” Ryan said, then waved his hand in Heather’s direction. “Good afternoon, ladies.” He strolled from the shop, a secret smile playing across his lips.
Her husband had given her a clue without implicating her in the investigation, directly.
“You know,” she said, to her bestie, “I think I love that man, more every day.”
But Amy didn’t hear. She’d already scuttled towards the counter to talk to Bally Bob.
“Amesters,” he roared and clapped his hands together once.
“Oh boy,” Heather said and proceeded to back away, slowly.
Chapter 7
Dave led them between trees in the park, stopping to sniff the grass and the legs of a park bench. He walked them in circles, but neither of them cared.
“Is the afternoon the best time to go on walks?” Amy asked. “I feel like it’s the hottest time of the day.”
“This morning you told me the morning was the hottest time of the day,” Heather replied, then tugged lightly on the leash. Dave trotted back towards them.
They sat down on the park bench and leaned their backs against the wooden slats. Amy closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out. They let the quiet stretch between them, listening to the distant hum of cars and the birds in the trees.
“How do you know Bob?” Heather asked, at last. “You two seemed well acquainted.”
“Oh, he’s an old family friend. My dad used to go hunting a lot, and he ended up being like an uncle to me. He taught me how to shoot.”
“How many years have we been friends?” Heather asked. “I had no idea you went hunting.”
“Not hunting, just shooting. I don’t really get the point of hunting so much unless it’s to catch what you’re going to eat,” Amy replied, then stifled a yawn. “But hey, speaking of Bally Bob –”
“I know, right? Apparently, Ryan wants me to investigate. Or he wants my help in his investigation?” Heather shifted Dave’s leash from one hand to the other.
“You do have a good track record for solving crimes.” Amy shifted on the bench and turned to face Heather head on. “So what do you think?”
“About Hunter?”
“No about the lack of summer rains,” Amy replied. “Of course about Hunter. He bought a rifle.”
“But we don’t know that it was the same caliber thingy as the murder weapon. Heck, we don’t even know what caliber that was, in the first place,” Heather replied.
Amy pursed her lips. “Heather, you heard what he said. He wasn’t happy with his sister. He said she got herself into trouble and interfered and that her death was his fault.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything without evidence,” Heather said. “He could’ve meant that metaphorically. Besides, it just doesn’t feel right to me. Something’s off. It’s not that simple.”
Amy shrugged and gazed off into the distance, at a lone figure tracking through the park toward them. “Maybe that’s because you’re used to complicated cases. This could be the one that’s straightforward.”
“If that were the case, then the cops would’ve arrested Hunter already,” Heather said.
The figure got closer – a woman wearing high heels and a skirt – and paused a few feet from them.
“Heather Shepherd?” She called out.
Amy and Heather exchanged a glance. Dave shuffled around and kicked his legs, then barked at the newcomer.
“How can I help?” Heather replied. She rose from her seat, but Amy didn’t join her.
The woman strode towards them, confident in her heels. “I’m Adele. I work at the Flirty Fox.”
“A dancer?” Amy sat up straighter, intrigued. “Didn’t Honey work at the Flirty Fox?”
“That’s right,” Adele replied, halting right in front of them. She placed her fists on her hips and looked either of them up and down, from the top of their heads to the toes of their shoes. “I expected you to be better dressed. Or at least, like wearing a trench coat or something.”
“Did I miss the memo or something?” Amy asked. “Is today insult day?”
Adele ignored her. “Yeah, I work at the club. I was good friends with Honey. We shared a lot of our shifts, ‘cept they always gave her the cool songs to dance to.”
“Uh, okay?” Heather replied, because what else was she supposed to say in this situation? “I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means they play ACDC for her and Adele for me, because, you know.” She raised her palms and shrugged.
Dave proceeded to sniff the woman’s heels, and Adele bent and scratched the top of his head. “Hello there, little guy. What’s your name?”
Dave barked – the happy kind, instead of the ‘I don’t like her, make her disappear’ kind.
“This is Dave. He’s our assistant,” Amy said. “Sniffs out the bad seeds in the bunch.”
“I’m not a bad seed. I’m not any kind of seed,” Adele said, then stood straight again. “Look, I came to find you because it was what Honey wanted.” She shuffled around in the back of her skirt and pulled a paper from out of nowhere.
Amy grunted, quietly. “What’s that?”
Adele handed it to Heather, then sucked in a breath. “It’s for your eyes only. That’s what Honey told me. I haven’t even looked at it. She told me that if anything happened, I had to give you this paper.”
Heather grasped the damp note in her hand and stared at it. She didn’t flip it open yet. “Did Honey say anything else?”
“Nope. Just to give you the note. Then she skipped out on her shift. That was the last time I saw her.” Adele choked out the last sentence. “We weren’t close, but we spent, like, every day dancing together. That means something in my world.” She flicked her dark plait over her shoulder. “I gotta go,” she said. “I’ll see you around.”
Heather sat down on the bench, gripping the note in both hands now, running her fingers along the fold.
“Ready?” Amy asked.
Heather flipped the page open. Both women gasped. Dave whined and scrabbled at their ankles, blunt claws scraping their skin.
Find Chase Reynolds
Chapter 8
“What do you think it means?” Amy asked, glancing at the note again. She’d carried all the way from the park to the offices of Mr. Reynolds in the center of Hillside.
“It means we have to find Chase Reynolds,” Heather said.
Amy swatted her on the upper arm. “I know that. But how creepy is this? I mean, it’s a note from beyond the grave. Honey wanted you to have this.”
“I don’t understand why she didn’t just tell me who was chasing her on the phone. Unless she didn’t know his name for certain. Or she didn’t know who he was for certain,” Heather said, then looked down at Dave. “Ugh, I don’t think we can take this mister inside the building.”
The towering office building leered at them. Window panes became eyes and the people moving behind them were pupils, following their every move.
Dave whined and turned in a circle on the spot.
; “I don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer,” Amy replied. “Are you sure this is the place? This is where Chase Reynolds works?”
“I read a piece on him in the paper the other day. He’s ranked in the Forbes 1000 top businesses. He’s expanded since he arrived in Hillside and has been pumping money into a lot of industries.”
“A thumb in every pie. Weird that I haven’t heard of him,” Amy said. “I’m supposed to be the gossip, between the two of us.” She pointed at Heather then at herself.
“He’s kind of new, or his success is new.” Heather handed Amy the leash. “You two will have to stay outside.”
“What, I don’t get to meet the mysterious millionaire?” Amy cooed.
“That depends on what you want to meet him for,” a man replied.
They both jumped – Amy shrieked and Heather sucked in a gasp which shuddered through her chest – then spun to face the newcomer.
He was perched on the hood of a silver Audi A8, arms folded, feet braced on the tar.
“Those are designer shoes,” Amy whispered, a little too loudly.
“There something I can help you ladies with?” The man pushed off the hood and strode towards them.
He wore a suit, beneath that he was muscles on muscles. Broad shoulders stretched the gray fabric, and he paused to run his fingers through short, styled brown hair. Cut close on the sides and coiffed on the top.
“Wow,” Amy breathed, still not all that quietly.
“Relax, he’s half your age,” Heather said, nudging her.
Dave growled and barked once, but Chase Reynolds – who else could he be? – shot him a single look and he quieted.
“We came to speak with you, actually,” Heather replied. Her sleuthin’ cogs worked around the smooth edges of Mr. Reynolds and recoiled. He was handsome, sure, but she didn’t like him all that much.
“An honor to speak to a successful businesswoman, such as yourself, Mrs. Shepherd,” Chase replied, and took her hand before she could offer it. He brushed his lips across the back of her hand, then shifted his attention to Amy. “And you? I don’t believe I’ve had the honor of meeting such a beauty.”
Oh, ew. He was such a cheese ball.
Amy’s cheeks colored, but she kept it together. Perhaps she sensed what Heather did. The only reason a man spoke like this was to get something, whether it was money or information.
“I’m Amy,” she replied, simply.
“A pleasure,” Chase said, then grasped her hand too and made his smooching gesture. A ‘true gentleman’ – gag.
Reynolds ignored Dave completely and turned back to Heather, straightening his red tie. “How may I help? Do you need a loan? I’ve been funding a lot of businesses around town, and I hear Donut Delights is a good investment. Exponential growth, I believe, is the term that’s been tossed around the boardroom.”
“Which boardroom?” Amy asked.
Heather waved away her question and skewered Reynolds with her gaze. “I didn’t come to talk about Donut Delights, though I’m honored that you’ve heard about my establishment.” Try creeped out. She was creeped out that this dude had been keeping an eye on her business.
'Investor' was another word for ‘take over’ and she wasn’t interested in either.
“Then what are you here to talk about, Mrs. Shepherd. Or should I call you Ms. Janke?”
“I’m Mrs. Shepherd, thank you,” Heather replied, stiffening automatically. “And I’m here to ask you a few questions about my friend. Honey Trickle.”
Chase’s eyebrows leaped upwards. “I’ve got nothing to say about her,” he replied, then turned on Amy instead. “What about you, Madame? Can I take you out to lunch tomorrow? I’ll show you a fine time.”
“I’ve got a boyfriend,” Amy replied, cheeks still flushed.
“Of course, yeah. Amy and Kent, isn’t it? Kent Bentley, the hotshot lawyer.” Chase bobbed his chin up and down, once. “I heard he’s well-acquainted with Honey. Or he was before she kicked the bucket.”
Amy’s flushed turned from embarrassment to pure anger. “Who do you think you are?” She growled.
Dave growled too and took up a bout of barking.
“Both of you calm down,” Heather said, grasping Amy’s arm and tugging the leash gently, at the same time. “Mr. Reynolds, I don’t appreciate your attitude or your insinuations.”
“And I don’t appreciate your questions,” he replied, then smoothed his palm down his tie. He checked the buttons of his suit were closed. “Don’t expect a warm welcome when you come with cold intentions.”
Amy folded her arms, foot tapping away at the sidewalk. “Can you believe this guy?” She asked.
“I’m Chase Reynolds,” he said, “don’t forget my name. Soon, you’ll see it on every building in Hillside.” Then he turned and strode towards the glass doors which led into the lobby.
Heather and Amy stared at him, and Dave finally quieted down. Silence reigned.
Chapter 9
Heather tapped her fingers on the keys of her laptop and stared at the screen, Chase’s words scratching at the back of her mind.
She shouldn’t let it bother her, but he’d been hostile in the strangest way. The minute she’d rejected his advances, business and otherwise, he’d turned into a horrible person. Veiled threats and words which were aimed to hurt Amy in her softest spot – her relationship with Kent.
What if Honey had rejected Chase Reynolds and he’d taken exception to that, then decided to kill Honey for it?
“No, that’s a bit of a stretch. I don’t have the evidence.” Heather sighed – she had another test in a couple of weeks, this one was a quick course on criminal law, and she’d only managed to get through half the designated course work.
“You okay, honey?” Ryan asked, standing framed in the doorway to their study. He’d tied a robe over his PJs, double knotted out of habit – Ryan’s thorough, perfectionist side in play.
“I’m not sure. I’ve been thinking about Honey a lot lately,” Heather replied, scooting back in her chair. She checked Dave wasn’t in her path. He tended to get his paws caught under the wheels of her office chair.
Ryan unfolded his arms and walked into the room. He grabbed the wooden chair beside the bookshelf and dragged it forward, then plopped down on it. He propped one elbow on his thigh, then balanced his chin on his palm. “What about her?”
“I’ve been following a few leads,” she said, then paused to allow him to scold her. But he didn’t. That was weird.
“What did you discover?” Ryan asked.
“Wait a sec, shouldn’t you be telling me not to get involved right about now? This is your case, and I can jeopardize it and all that?” Heather rolled her wrist and waved her hand. “You know, the usual spiel.”
“Good to know what you think of my lectures,” Ryan said, but he laughed at it, a warm, tumble of mirth which relaxed her. “And no, I’m not going to try to stop you.”
“Why?”
“Things have… well, to be honest, they’ve changed down at the DP.” Ryan twisted his lips to one side, then scraped his knuckles down his jaw. “Davidson is in charge.”
“Where does he come from? I didn’t see him around until about a week ago,” Heather said.
“He’s the new cop in town, and the captain is impressed. He’s got Davidson running most of the cases in homicide. My hands are pretty much tied. Unless he says I can investigate a lead, I’m not allowed to.”
“I had no idea it worked like that,” Heather replied, then grabbed his knee and squeezed gently. “Sorry, love.”
“It shouldn’t work like that. But there’s a hierarchy, and if I step out of line, the cap is going to get angry.” Ryan’s expression darkened. “It’s been a frustrating time.”
“That’s why you let us listen in on your conversation with Ballistic Bob?” Heather asked, though she already knew the answer.
“You’ve got a natural talent for investigating, it’s the whole reason I got you in
to this course in the first place,” Ryan replied. “That and I knew you’d continue investigating no matter how many times I asked you not to.”
Heather couldn’t bow her head and pretend that it wasn’t true. Investigating helped her deal with problems in life, with grief. In so many ways, helping to find the perpetrator of a crime helped her too.
“What have you got for me?” Ryan asked, shifting to cross his one leg over the other.
Heather hummed a quick tune. “I met with Chase Reynolds today,” she said.
“Oh? And what did you think of Hillside’s most eligible bachelor? I bet Amy liked him,” Ryan replied. He didn’t have to question whether Amy had been with her or not.
Heather’s bestie had taken leave from work – strangely, she didn’t want to talk about that much.
“She did until he brought up Kent. He insinuated that Kent and honey had been more than just friends. Obviously, that didn’t go down well with Amy.”
“Obviously. It’s not true, though,” Ryan said, “I know because I’ve been looking at the surveillance tapes at the club, and Kent has been in there. Not since he helped Honey work on a case pro bono.”
“I don’t doubt Kent,” Heather said, then turned back to the laptop. “But I do want to find out more about Chase Reynolds and his business.”
“Why are you interested in him?” Ryan asked, voice free of jealousy. Her husband couldn’t possibly doubt their love. Loyalty was a trait both of them valued highly.
“Because another dancer, Adele, came to me with a note from Honey. Apparently, Honey didn’t want anyone else but me to see it.” Heather reached over and grabbed her criminal psych book, opened it, then slid Honey’s crumpled note from within. She handed it to Ryan, then turned back to the keyboard.
Heather typed his name into the search bar, then pressed enter.
The results announced Mr. Reynolds’ success in bold letter. Forbes had done an article on him. Heather scrolled down the results, clicked through to page two. Nothing sprang out at her.
Candied Maple Bacon Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 13 (Donut Hole Mystery) Page 3
