Funfetti Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 52

by Susan Gillard

  “I don’t mean to brag,” Marcia continued. “But my blackberry pies have been quite a hit. I’ve nearly sold out.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Heather said. “Is there anything else I should help out with here today?”

  “No, no,” Marcia said. “Just sell your baked goods, and that’s it. We’ll be here until sundown. Then I have the Parks Department coming to help clear up the tables. Hopefully, most of our desserts will be sold by then.”

  “Well, I’ve already sold out of mine,” Heather said.

  “What?” Marcia asked. “What did you bring?”

  “Donuts,” said her friend with curly hair.

  “Oh, well those snacks are rather small. And I bet you didn’t bring too many.”

  “She did bring a lot,” the curly haired friend continued. “She’s the lady from the donut shop.”

  “Quiet, Claire,” Marcia said to her. Claire didn’t seem upset by the comment but rather resigned to the treatment.

  Marcia turned to Heather. “So, we have a professional here?”

  “I guess so,” Heather said. “I am the owner, head baker, and flavor creator at Donut Delights.”

  “That’s fantastic. It’s so nice to have a real baker here,” Marcia said.

  “I’m really only good with donuts,” Heather confessed.

  “It’s still really great to have a professional be part of our events.” Heather almost believed the compliment from Marcia until she continued with, “Of course, I’m sure donuts are less expensive than pies. That might be part of why they sold so quickly. Food for the poor masses.”

  “Sure,” Heather said.

  She had wanted to avoid getting into a competition about their children, and now it seemed that they were competing themselves. Heather didn’t care about winning. She just wanted to know if she could leave early after selling all her donuts without causing waves.

  “Because my pies are rather expensive. They are high end. But they’re still selling rather well.”

  “That’s great,” Heather said again. Her patience at playing nice with this rude woman was wearing thin. However, she wanted to keep things on good terms for Lilly and the school’s sake.

  It was apparently very important to Marcia that she have the most successful dish at the bake sale. Heather knew that she was very talented when it came to making donuts, and she probably did create the best treat there that day, but having the title of “best baker at bake sale” wasn’t important to her. She just wanted the patrons to enjoy some snacks and donate to a worthy cause. Wasn’t that what this was supposed to be about? Wasn’t this about helping the school?

  “Well,” Heather said. “If you don’t need me, I’m going to head out.”

  “Well, that’s very interesting,” Marcia said.

  “What is?”

  “Your leaving early.”

  “You just said you only need me to sell my own snacks, and that other people are cleaning up the tables. I sold my snacks, so I thought I was done,” Heather said.

  “You can be done if you want to,” Marcia said. “I just thought it was interesting that we haven’t seen you at many of the PTA meetings. Why is that?”

  Heather’s real answer was that she didn’t like the president of the organization, but she knew she couldn’t say that to Marcia’s face, so she opted for a casual, “I’ve been busy lately, but I’ll try to come to more.”

  “That’s true,” Marcia said. “You must be really busy what with running that little muffin shop of yours.”

  “Donut shop,” Claire said.

  “Quiet, Claire,” Marcia responded. “It must be difficult to balance raising a child with running a business. What was your name again?”

  “Heather Shepherd.”

  “Why does that name sound familiar?” Marcia asked.

  “Because she’s in the paper a lot looking at dead bodies and chasing murderers,” Claire said.

  “How gruesome,” said Marcia.

  “I think of it as helping to see that justice is served,” Heather said. She had already stifled a groan. She had never been a huge fan of the Hillside Reporter’s write ups on her casework, and the fact that it was giving fodder for these gossipy moms was making her even less enthused about it.

  “It must be hard to balance all those things,” Marcia said in a soothing voice.

  “It can be,” Heather said.

  “I just hope that your little Lilly doesn’t get the short end of the stick.”

  “Lilly is just fine,” Heather said. “She has two parents that love and care for her.”

  “We don’t see much of her at afterschool activities. We see less of you at PTA meetings. But we still don’t see a lot of her either.”

  Heather shook her head. She shouldn’t have to explain her family to these women. Lilly took part in the activities she wanted to take part in, and at the moment she wasn’t very excited about the sports programs that had been offered. That didn’t mean that Lilly didn't have a rich and fulfilling life outside of school. Lilly liked to volunteer at the local children’s shelter because she used to live there, she liked taking care of the furry family pets, and she liked writing stories about dinosaur detectives on her pink typewriter.

  “Lilly takes part in the activities she likes. She has lots of friends and takes part in things outside of school.”

  “I hope that’s true and that you’re not just telling us this,” Marcia said.

  “I really have to get going,” Heather said. “I’ll see you at the next bake sale.”

  “I hope so,” Marcia said. “I hope you’re not just doing the bare minimum with us.”

  “The bare minimum is no good for the children,” Claire said. “What if everybody decided to do that?”

  “Then again,” Marcia said. “Maybe you feel like you can get away with it because Lilly isn’t your real daughter.”

  “What?” Heather asked, hoping she had heard her wrong.

  “Maybe you feel like you don’t have to do as much for the school because Lilly’s adopted. She’s not your real daughter.”

  “Lilly is my daughter,” Heather said and decisively marched away.

  She felt she now understood where the phrase “seeing red” came from. When she heard those words come out of Marcia’s mouth, she felt like her whole vision had glossed over a crimson color.

  Chapter 4

  Heather was still furious when she reached the end of the bake sale area and realized she might be too angry to drive. She didn’t want her emotions to cloud her judgment on the road, and so she stopped at the last table at the bake sale and pretended to be selecting a scone.

  “Is everything all right?” A voice asked.

  Heather realized she had been taking several deep calming breaths that probably looked excessive for the decision of choosing a bake sale item. She looked up at the woman being the table. She had a kind face and a messy blonde ponytail.

  “I’m fine,” Heather said. “Just trying to choose one of these.”

  “I’m going to be honest with you,” the woman said. “They’re all store bought.”

  Heather laughed at the wry way she told her and felt some much-needed relief of tension.

  “If you want to make a donation to the school by buying one, go right ahead. But if you want something home cooked and savory, maybe try another table. I’m no chef.”

  “I can only make donuts,” Heather said. “Most other things I make are a disaster.”

  “I’m Lisa Luft,” the woman said with a smile and an outstretched hand.

  “Heather Shepherd,” she responded, shaking hands.

  “I know that name. You’re a mom here, right?” Lisa thought about it. “Lilly?”

  “Yes!”

  “Such a sweet kid. I’m Renee’s mom.”

  Heather placed the face and nodded. “I can see the family resemblance.”

  “We’re both very blonde. But she always has scraped knees. I don’t know where she inherited her sense
of balance because her father and I don’t walk into walls.”

  Heather instantly felt more at ease and had to remind herself that not all the parents at the school were as cruel as Marcia Lindau.

  “How is your selling doing?” Lisa asked.

  “I actually sold all my donuts. I was going to head home,” Heather said.

  “That’s awesome,” Lisa said. “I keep scaring my customers away with my honesty. But as long as they give money to one of us, then the playground is supported.”

  “It’s so refreshing to hear you say that,” Heather said.

  “Oh. Were you spending time with the Marcia crowd?”

  Heather nodded.

  “Then I can understand why you were upset before. It’s not my scones. It’s those ladies,” Lisa said. “I’m not a fan of them either. That’s why I have my set up over here, far away from their clique.”

  “I don’t know how they can have someone who makes nasty comments in charge of the organization,” said Heather.

  “I think she does raise a lot of money. So, we adults suffer from having to deal with her, but the kids profit in the end with what she raises.”

  Heather nodded.

  “What did she say to you? Do you want to talk about it?” Lisa asked.

  “She said Lilly wasn’t my real daughter because she was adopted.”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous,” Lisa said.

  “Thank you. I knew it was, but it was still upsetting to hear that some people think that way.”

  “Well, I’m sure the courts and your family disagree with her.”

  “It’s not just that. She didn’t seem to remember much about me,” Heather said. “The only thing that she remembered was that Lilly was adopted. And that shouldn’t matter.”

  “She might remember more than she lets on. She just likes to make people feel bad. But what Marcia Lindau thinks doesn’t bother me,” Lisa said. “And I’m definitely not going to her wine parties anytime soon.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, I hope you’re not heartbroken if you weren’t invited,” Lisa said. “Apparently, some PTA moms get together with her and drink wine. Could you imagine that? Choosing to hang out with her for fun?”

  “No, I can’t,” Heather said. “Thank you for cheering me up. I think I should get home now.”

  “Have a good night.”

  “Good luck with your scones.”

  “They’ll need it.”

  Chapter 5

  Heather was curled up on the couch with the other man in her life besides her husband, her doggy best friend, Dave. Dave loved donuts and cuddles and was settling for the latter. She hugged her canine friend and had trouble determining whether he was actually losing any weight or if he had been cheating on his diet and someone was sneaking him donuts.

  It was a rare moment for just Heather and Dave to be alone. She scratched behind his ears, and he licked her face to show his appreciation. She pushed him down but smiled. She didn’t need doggy breath to let her know he loved him. She did appreciate the hugs though. She didn’t want to admit it, but Marcia Lindau’s words had rattled her. It wasn’t that she said Lilly wasn’t her daughter. That was easy to dismiss as untrue. However, when she spoke about Heather balancing her work-life and crime solving with being a mother, it made her second guess if she really was giving Lilly enough time.

  Lilly had a fun time with her dad at the movies, though they both joked about how there should be donuts for snacks instead of popcorn. They had a nice family dinner together, and Heather had put Lilly to bed that night. She told her a bedtime story that night. Lilly thought that hearing more stories might help her with her own writing and asked to hear one, excited to hear what her mom would offer a tale of. Heather’s story ended up being a mixture of a fairy tale and an old case that she had solved. She removed the murder from the tale because it was right before bed, but kept the searching for clues, and in the end, everyone lived happily ever after. Lilly seemed to enjoy it but fell asleep soon after. Heather decided that her falling asleep was the point of the story, rather than an insult saying she was boring.

  Their kitten Cupcake had fallen asleep as well and was sleeping next to Lilly. The more Heather pet Dave’s tummy, the more Zen-like he became, and it was possible he would fall asleep too. Heather was trying to push her thoughts away from Marcia Lindau when she heard movement at the door.

  Her husband Ryan had returned with Eva and Leila. It had been a late night for the two ladies who attended a Pickleball Tournament, and Ryan had agreed to chauffeur so they wouldn’t have to drive at night. Heather had not known what Pickleball was but discovered it was a cross between badminton and tennis, and was a sport that all age levels could play. Eva and Leila had known some people from Hillside Manor that were playing and had decided to go cheer them on. However, as they described the game, it seemed that as the rounds went on, they had joined in playing. The ladies were excited about their adventure, but as the adrenaline wore off, it became clear that they were exhausted.

  “Come on, Dave,” Heather said. “Let’s go into the kitchen so these ladies can rest up after their victory.”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure if we were keeping score at the end,” Eva said. “But it was a grand time.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought that a game with such a silly name would be as fun as it was,” Leila said.

  Heather wished them goodnight but had trouble moving Dave. “All right. You win,” she said. “Come with me to the kitchen and get a donut.”

  With that inducement, Dave raced off the couch and followed her into the other room.

  “Can I get a donut too?” Ryan joked, following her.

  “A donut and a kiss,” Heather said, and she fulfilled both of those requests.

  They sat down to enjoy a late-night snack together while sharing some bits with a tail-wagging Dave.

  “I only caught the very end of the game,” Ryan said. “But it was fun to see them play. Leila is fast, and Eva has good aim.”

  “If they play again, I’d like to watch them play.”

  “It looked like everyone was having a blast,” Ryan said. “But not you. What’s wrong?”

  Heather told him about how the comments from the bake sale were on her mind.

  “Do you think my time is split too many ways?”

  “I think you’re a wonderful mother. Lilly knows that love her and that you would drop everything at a moment’s notice for her if she needed you,” Ryan said. “If you were in her hair all the time, it would drive a kid crazy.”

  “So, you think I’m not here all the time?”

  “I think it’s like one of your recipes. You need to have the right balance to keep everything together and tasting good. Sugar is important, but if you were all sugar, it wouldn’t be a donut. And too much milk would make you too watery. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think I know what you mean. And thanks,” Heather said. “But based on that metaphor, I’m not letting you into my donut kitchen anytime soon.”

  Ryan chuckled and gave her a hug. It was short-lived, however, because he was interrupted by his cell phone ringing.

  “Shepherd,” he said, answering it. Based on the responses he gave, Heather got the impression that he was being called to a crime scene. Her suspicion was soon confirmed.

  “Looks like my day off is leading to a night of working.”

  “There’s been a murder?”

  Ryan nodded. “Looks like poisoning. An ambulance tried to save the woman but was too late. It’s been declared a murder already. I should get over there. Do you want to come and investigate?”

  “Sure. I’ll call Amy, and we can help you. Where are we going?”

  Ryan showed her the address that he had written down and said, “Lindau residence.”

  “Uh oh,” Heather said. “I want to help with this case, but I think you need to officially determine that I’m not a suspect first.”

  Chapter 6

  Heat
her was waiting for Ryan outside of the Lindau house, and she felt she had been waiting a rather long time. She had already counted all the flowers in the yard and didn’t feel up to the task of counting the stars up above.

  Luckily, Amy soon joined her to relieve her boredom.

  “Are they really considering you a suspect?” Amy asked. “You need to stop fighting with people who end up as murder victims.”