Cinnamon Crunch Murder

by Gillard, Susan

  “It’s suspicious,” Amy said and reached for a Strawberry Crème donut.

  “Right you are. I guess, I know who I’m paying a visit to first thing tomorrow morning. Ugh, but I’ve got so many orders to fill at the bakery, and the website contact list is growing and –”

  “You take care of Goldie, I’ll head to Donut Delights and help out while you’re busy,” Amy said, then bit off some donut.

  “Are you sure?” Heather asked.

  “Of course. It’s not like I have anything better to do.” Amy sighed and gazed at the pink glaze on her donut. “Besides, I do love donuts.”

  “You’re a lifesaver,” Heather replied.

  “You may call me ‘the champ’, or you may call me nothing at all,” Amy replied.

  Chapter 13

  Goldie’s Boutique was empty of customers. That might’ve had something to do with the early hour, or with the rumors that Goldie had been involved in Tara’s murder in some capacity.

  Hillside was a notorious gossip town.

  Heather opened the glass front door, the handle was gold, of course, and stepped into the interior of the boutique.

  “Hello?” Heather called out. “Is anyone there?”

  “Just a minute,” Goldie said, from the back room. She didn’t sound particularly excited at the prospect of a new customer.

  Heather checked her phone for the time. It was just past 7 am. Ryan had a late shift today, and he’d decided to snore it up in the bedroom, rather than come sleuthin’ with her. She didn’t blame him.

  He’d get in huge trouble if he was connected with the case, even though association with her off the record investigation. And he’d dissolved into a grump of late because Davidson had effectively tied his hands.

  Heather walked to the front counter and rested her palms on the glass surface. The Hermes scarves peered up at her, including the one Goldie had used to wipe her face the other day.

  “What do you need?” Goldie asked, backing out of the other room, arms piled high with designer boxes. She plopped them into a nearby armchair, then turned to the counter. “Oh. It’s you. What do you want?”

  “Answers,” Heather replied, simply.

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you. I know you spoke to my dad,” Goldie said and folded her arms. She gripped at her skin with those golden fingernails. “I know all about your investigation.”

  “I thought you had nothing to say to me,” Heather replied, stifling a smirk. “Goldie, I know that Foster dumped you the morning of Tara’s murder. Why didn’t you tell me that? Help me out here. I want to believe that you didn’t hurt your friend, but –”

  “You’ve got some nerve walking in here, talking like you’re a cop. Well, you’re not, and I don’t have to say anything to you.” Goldie clicked her fingers and waggled her head from side-to-side.

  The whimsical chimes above the door tinkled, and Heather turned to see who’d entered.

  “Goldie,” Foster said, stepping a foot into the store and no further. His elbow brushed against a short, summery dress. He flinched from the cotton and rubbed at the spot it’d touched him. “Mrs. Shepherd?”

  “Hi, Foster, fancy meeting you here.” Heather tilted her head to one side to observe.

  Foster was pale, sweating, he shook all over, but he stood his ground. “Goldie, I need your help.”

  “I have no reason to help you,” Goldie replied, then glanced askance at Heather. “And I’m not talking in front of her.”

  “He’s coming for me. They found the black gloves you gave me for Christmas last year. They think I hurt Tara. You’ve got to help me.” Foster twitched toward them, then halted. “Please, he’s coming for me.”

  “Who’s coming for you?” Heather asked, she hurried to his side and grabbed him by the arm. He was clammy and cold. “Foster, it’s going to be okay. Who’s coming for you?”

  The young man turned wild eyes on her. “Davidson. Tara’s dad. Someone called him about the gloves and said that I had them. He turned up at my dad’s house with a search warrant. They’re coming for me. I have to run. I have to go.”

  “Don’t,” Heather replied, and tightened her grip. “You know that’s not a good idea. It will look suspicious.”

  “You should leave,” Goldie called out. “I think that would be the best move for you, Foster. You’re going to wind up in jail if you don’t.”

  “Are you crazy?” Heather turned back to the girl. “If he leaves, they’re going to think he did it.”

  “Goldie’s right,” Foster said.

  Heather snapped her attention back to him and gasped. Three police cruisers had pulled up in front of the store.

  Davidson got out of the first, dwarfed by his loose shirt, and strode up to the boutique. He opened the door, then stepped inside.

  “Looks like we’re having a party in here,” Davidson said. “My three favorite suspects all gathered together. That’s an interesting coincidence.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Foster erupted, the raised his hands in prayer position. “Please, please, don’t arrest me. I didn’t do anything.”

  The poor guy was ready to keel over from fear. “Good morning, Detective Davidson,” Heather said. “I would say it’s lovely to see you, but I don’t want to be charged with perjury.” Not that she was under oath.

  “Perjury is going to be the least of your problems, Shepherd.” Davidson smirked, breaking eye contact with her and honing in on Foster instead. “I’m not here for you, anyway. But for him.”

  “No, I didn’t. Those gloves were a gift. There’s two of them. Not one! I didn’t hurt Tara. I love Tara.”

  “What!” Goldie shrieked from the counter. “You loved her?”

  Oh boy, the scene had reached telenovela proportions of drama.

  Detective Davidson blinked at the woman behind the counter. “Please, keep it down, ma’am. You’re interrupting a police investigation, and if you continue, I’ll have to take you in.”

  “You can’t do that,” Heather said. “That’s not legal.” Talk about a power trip.

  “Don’t even get me started on you,” Davidson hissed.

  “You loved her!? How dare you say that? You’re, like, such a scumbag Foster Tombs. A scumbag! I thought we were going to get married. You’re a nobody,” Goldie shrieked, her golden locks swishing with each head movement.

  Detective Davidson ignored her this time and brought out a pair of cuffs. “Foster Tombs, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tara Davidson.” He choked on the last part. His daughter’s name.

  Chapter 14

  The afternoon wasn’t a scorcher for a change. The sun cast mellow sunlight on their backs, and the trees stood silent, untouched by the wind. Squirrels scurried around in their branches, disturbing leaves.

  Dave barked and perked up at the motion, but settled quickly after. Chasing squirrels was not his M.O. If the squirrels had been donut shaped and made from confectioner’s sugar, flour, and vanilla bean, then they’d have caught his attention.

  Ryan looped his arm around Heather’s shoulders, and they set an easy pace, strolling along the dirt road near the trailer park.

  “This brings back memories,” Heather said.

  “Of what?”

  “Pops Polinksi and his tasteless yard sale.” Heather snorted. “That was the strangest day. I guess I could say that about most days, lately.”

  “I guess you could. I could too,” Ryan said, then yawned. “Late shift last night, and boy did it suck.”

  “More trouble from Davidson?”

  “Yeah. Did you know he brought in that kid this morning? Foster? Poor guy cried all the way from the front, right into the interrogation room,” Ryan said, then gritted his teeth. “He doesn’t have the evidence for this. It’s not right.”

  “There’s only one thing to do, and that’s investigate,” Heather said. “Davidson can’t get away with this behavior, not in a court of law. If they put Foster up there, the jury will see right through the case.�
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  Ryan nodded. “That much is obvious. Which means he’s after a bigger fish.”

  Dave paused to sniff a tree and do more of his cheeky ablutions. At least they were in nature this time, and not against the tire of a grumpy man’s car.

  “I take it the fish he’s looking to fry is Heather-flavored,” Heather said. “He ‘hinted’ at it the other day. Whenever he sees me, he hints at it.”

  Ryan scuffed his boot in the dirt. “This is so frustrating. I wish there were something I could do to stop this. I’m stuck at my desk all day, filling out forms, pushing paper.”

  Heather stroked the back of his neck and massaged in circles. “Hey, we came for this walk to get away from it all. Let’s not talk about that, now. Let’s just enjoy the afternoon. Okay?”

  “You’re right,” Ryan said, and that charming grin, the smile she’d fallen for, in the beginning, cropped up on his handsome face. “This is great. It’s good to be out in the wild again.”

  Dave barked his agreement. And then he barked again, and again.

  “Quiet down, you,” Heather said, tugging the leash, gently.

  But Dave wouldn’t quit. He rattled off a volley of ear-shattering barks, his tail wagging in circles at an incredible rate.

  “Heather,” Ryan said, tone deepening.

  She looked up and gasped. Lilly Jones streaked towards them, arms pumping back and forth, cheeks red from the exertion. She lived on the other side of Hillside, in the new development are.

  “Lilly?” Heather stepped forward.

  The little girl struck her in the middle and flung her arms around Heather’s waist. She sobbed and sniffled.

  “Lilly, what’s wrong?” Heather asked.

  Dave licked at the girl’s legs, still wagging his tail, but whining each time Lilly let out another sob. Her breathing slowed, and she detached from Heather’s middle after a few seconds.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

  “What happened?” Heather asked, dropping to her haunches in front of the child.

  Ryan followed suit, fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over.

  Lilly accepted it and wiped her forehead and cheeks, scraping at the tears and spreading a mixture of dust across her skin.

  “It’s my dad,” she said.

  “What about him?” Heather asked, skin already crawling at the mention of Larry Jones. He’d been commanding with his daughter the last time. And Lilly had mentioned being kicked out for forgetting to clean her shoes.

  Heather touched the girl on the shoulder, and she jumped at the kindness.

  “I’m scared of him. He’s bad. I don’t want to be there anymore,” Lilly said, gulping for air. She looked from Heather to Ryan and back again. “Please, get me away from him. I don’t want to live in that house anymore. He’s so mean to me. Please.”

  “I’m calling Pamela,” Ryan said, rising from the ground. “She’s a social worker. She’ll handle this.”

  Heather drew Lilly aside, and brought Dave along too, while Ryan made the call.

  “It’s going to be okay, Lilly. When the lady comes to talk to you, you need to tell her exactly what’s going on, in private. She’s going to help you out. All right?”

  Lilly pressed her lips together and rubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “All right.”

  “We’ll be with you the entire time. We’re not going anywhere until she arrives. You’re safe with us. My husband over there, Ryan? He’s a detective at Hillside PD.”

  Lilly relaxed visibly. She sat down with her back to a tree and put her legs out straight. “Okay,” she said. Dave crawled into her lap right away and settled in it. She stroked him and shut her eyes.

  Heather stayed by her side, even though Lilly didn’t want to talk.

  Ryan whistled and beckoned for Heather to join him a short way off, and she rushed over.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Pam’s on her way. But I’m going to check out this complaint myself. I want to see what Larry has to say about this,” Ryan said.

  “Maybe that’s a good idea,” Heather replied. Guilt had already surfaced in her thoughts, the memory of Lilly running off to give her information about Foster stuck out. What if this was her fault somehow.

  No, if Larry had scared Lilly this bad, it wasn’t because of anything Heather had done. It was because he wasn’t a good father. And that was why Pam was the best equipped to deal with the situation.

  Heather looked at Lilly.

  The girl had her arms wrapped around Dave’s furry body, while he licked her face.

  Chapter 15

  Heather readjusted the stool behind the counter at Donut Delights and leaned her head on her bestie’s shoulder. She’d had a late night, and waking up early hadn’t been a part of the plan until Jung had called her with a waffle emergency.

  “You should go home and get some rest,” Amy said, tapping her on the forehead with the end of a wooden paddle for stirring coffee.

  “I don’t think I’d be able to rest, even if I did go home. Dave’s feeling boisterous today. He’s demanding to be let out of the house. I get the feeling he wants to see Lilly,” Heather said, then stifled a yawn.

  “I hope she’s okay,” Amy said, softly. “She loved hearing about Eva’s Mustang.”

  “Hey, I forgot about that.”

  “Yeah, Eva has had the car for years. Apparently, her husband was a car aficionado, and he saved up everything to get that ‘Stang. She doesn’t like it, but she kept it because it reminds her of him.”

  Heather chuckled. “That’s so Eva.”

  “Right?”

  It was a pretty slow Friday morning. A couple of customers, one mom with a baby on her hip, and a couple of businessmen, occupied the tables around the front of the store, already snacking on their donut orders.

  This was definitely the quietest the place had been in weeks. It made Heather’s stomach twirl around in her body. What if people had heard about Davidson’s accusations and they didn’t want to come to Donut Delights anymore, because of it?

  “Have you made any headway with the case?” Amy asked.

  “Not yet,” Heather replied. “After our walk yesterday and the whole incident with Lilly, I haven’t been able to wrap my mind around it.” She scraped her hand through her hair.

  Clattering from the kitchen broke through her thoughts. Heather sat up straight and shared a quizzical look with Amy. The clangs continued, and a yell rang out.

  The mom at the table nearby frowned and shushed her infant.

  “Oh boy,” Heather said. “It’s like I attract trouble.”

  “We’ve established that,” Amy replied. “But let’s find out what this particular brand of trouble has in store.”

  They slipped off their stools and walked towards the kitchen doors.

  They swung open, and Detective Davidson appeared from within the Donut Delights kitchen, followed closely by Maricela, who held a rolling pin aloft.

  “He came through the back door,” Maricela said. “I don’t care who he is. Nobody comes through the back door of the store.”

  “Keep talking like that, young lady, and I’ll arrest you for –”

  “Arrest me?!” Maricela waggled the rolling pin. She didn’t like officers, apart from Ryan, who she only trusted because he was married to Heather. “You arrest me? Ha!” She rattled off a few Spanish incantations.

  “What’s going on, Detective Davidson? Is there a reason you disturbed my staff?” Heather asked.

  Maricela’s Spanish taunts intensified. She moved closer to the Detective, still wiggling the marble rolling pin around, and Davidson took a step back, blinking at her in shock.

  Another moment of ‘does not compute’, but from an officer of the law, this time.

  “Mrs. Shepherd, I want to talk to you in your office.”

  “Is that so?” Amy asked. “Maybe try the front door next time.” The corners of her lips twitched, and she ey
ed Maricela, who was still in full swing – excuse the pun. “I think it would be best for everyone’s health in this case.”

  “Mrs. Shepherd, kindly remove this woman from my presence, or I am going to arrest her,” Davidson said.

  “You have no charges to arrest her on, and I don’t remove my staff in any capacity, thank you very much.” That wasn’t technically true. Maricela had threatened a police officer, but Davidson seemed too wild-eyed to do anything about it.

  Maricela finished her diatribe, swished the rolling pin once, then turned and strode back into the kitchen. The doors swung shut behind her, and the table of businessmen in the corner cheered and clapped.

  “Breakfast and a show,” said one of the suits.

  Heather sighed and massaged her temples. She hummed another tune, Suzanne by Leonard Cohen, and soothed her mind with the placid tones.

  “What song is that?” Amy asked.

  Davidson stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “What? She does that a lot. I like music, what’s the big deal?” Amy shrugged and looped her arm through Heather’s.

  “You wanted to talk to me, Davidson?” Heather was seconds from asking him to leave. He had no right to come through the back of her store. He didn’t have a search warrant, or a warrant for arrest, or he’d surely have cuffed her and gloated about it, by now.

  Davidson leaned in and raised his finger. He poked it towards Heather without touching her.

  “That’s a finger away from police brutality,” Amy said.

  “I know you’re working with Foster. I know that you got him to do your dirty work for you and kill my daughter.” Davidson sneered, his upper lip curling back to expose his teeth.

  “I have lost my patience with this line of interrogation. I understand you’ve been through a lot, detective, but you’re not staying within the law here,” Heather replied. “I’ve had enough. I’m not going to speak to you anymore without a lawyer present.”

  Amy grinned at Davidson. “And you can bet she’s got a good one.”

  Kent Bentley happened to be the best lawyer in Hillside, and he’d definitely do anything to help Heather out after she’d found his attacker a few months earlier.