Rhubarb Frosted Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery Book 10

by Susan Gillard

  Heather shook her head, stomach squirming. “Amy, you can’t seriously believe that. We’ve been best friends for years. Where is this coming from?” She reached out and grabbed her friend’s hand.

  Amy wrenched it away and held it against her chest. “No. I won’t listen to you anymore. I’m done living in your shadow, Heather Janke.”

  “Shepherd,” she corrected, out of habit. It was a newlywed thing.

  Amy’s face screwed up. “Of course, you’d throw that in my face.” And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the bakery.

  Silence followed her exit. People stared, some with donuts or coffee cups halfway with their mouths.

  “What on earth?” Eva asked.

  “I think the accident has pushed Amy over the edge. I had no idea she felt like that.” Heather swallowed the lump in her throat, but it popped back up again. This was her best friend.

  They’d known each other forever.

  Heather pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, and then shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Look at this,” Eva said.

  Heather looked up. Eva held a piece of a photograph between two fingers. It was torn to shreds, and she shuffled the pieces together. Eva was a master at puzzles. Her wrinkled hands worked magic across the table.

  A full photograph stared up at Heather.

  Angelica arrived with a donut for Amy, even though she was already gone. “That a lovely picture. But why is it torn?”

  Heather hunched at the table, scratching at her temple. No wonder Amy had been furious.

  The picture was of Kent and Amy in front of the Eiffel Tower, back when they’d first attended Heather and Ryan’s wedding in France.

  “How could she think I would do this?” Heather murmured. “How could she think any of what she said?”

  Eva grasped Heather’s hands, cool finger brushing against her palm, and squeezed. “Grief and fear do strange things to people. Trust me, I know. Amy needs time. She’ll come to her senses.”

  Heather nodded slowly. She could only hope that was true. Losing Amy wasn’t an option.

  Angelica hurried back to the register, leaving the Rhubarb Frosted donut on the table.

  Heather glanced at it and then at the cobbled together photo of her best friend and her boyfriend.

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What doesn’t?” Eva asked.

  “If I didn’t tear up the photograph then who did?”

  Chapter 4

  Heather stood on Amy’s front porch, holding Dave’s doggy leash in one hand and a donut offering in the other. Amy was clearly in a bad place, right now, and it was up to her as ‘the bestie’ to make her feel better.

  Dave yapped and turned in a circle.

  “Slow down, Dave,” Heather scolded, but she didn’t put her heart into it because her heart was too busy freaking out.

  What if Amy turned her away?

  “This is it,” she said.

  Dave barked his approval.

  Heather knocked on the front door and waited. Footsteps rushed towards the door, and the lock clicked beneath fumbling fingers.

  Amy’s face appeared in the crack between the door and the jamb, a bronze chain stretched to the limits above her head. “Oh, it’s you,” she said.

  “Don’t sound so overjoyed,” Heather replied, with a weak smile.

  Amy didn’t respond. She looked down at Dave then back up at Heather.

  “We need to talk about what happened at Donut Delights.” Heather presented the donut box she’d brought along. “I understand you’re under a lot of pressure, but you have to know that I would never wish ill on you. I’ve always wanted you to be happy.”

  Amy slammed the door in her face.

  Heather sighed and met Dave’s dopey doggy gaze. “At least we tried. Ten points for effort.”

  The chair scraped back, and Amy threw the door wide open. She flew into Heather’s arms and hugged her tight, shaking from withheld sobs. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Dave whined and pawed at their feet.

  “It’s okay, Amy, I understand.” Heather patted her awkwardly on the back, using the side of the donut box.

  “Someone’s watching me,” Amy whispered.

  Oh boy, had her friend truly lost it? The grief had pushed her too close to the edge. First, she’d accused Heather of attacking Kent and now this.

  Heather pulled back from the hug and stared at her friend. She was ruffled, her hair a little messy, but overall she looked healthy, sane. Normal. A little wide-eyed maybe.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’d be better if you came inside,” Amy hissed. She turned and rushed back inside, then stopped beside the door, tapping her bare heel. “Hurry!”

  “C’mon Dave, let’s check it out.” Heather led her dog into the interior of Amy’s home.

  Dave immediately began the search for white carpeting, a.k.a. ‘the toilet,' to no avail.

  Amy slammed the door shut and double-locked it, triple checked it was locked, and then huffed out a sigh of relief.

  “What’s going on?” Heather asked.

  “I can show you,” Amy replied, then strode down the hall.

  Heather dropped Dave’s leash and followed her friend, a frown creasing her forehead. “Curious,” she muttered.

  Amy turned left and strode into her kitchen the stopped by the window. She pointed out of it, at something in the circle of light against the back wall.

  It was a trash can. Several trash cans, actually, and one of them was filled with…

  “That’s not possible. This is crazy,” Heather said. She stowed the donut box she’d brought on Amy’s kitchen table, and then hurried closer for a better look.

  “I heard a noise, earlier, and came to check what it was. That’s when I saw them,” Amy said, folding her arms.

  Rhubarb Frosted donuts sat in Amy’s trash can, right on top of the pile, peeking out from the inside of a Donut Delights box.

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. But the minute I saw them, I knew that I’d been crazy to accuse you of anything. There’s just no way you’d ever dump your own donuts.”

  “Or any donuts for that matter.” Heather slapped a hand to her forehead. “This is so strange. You know, Eva’s attacker dumped my donuts in her trash can. And Christa’s murderer used arsenic and a donut to –” Heather’s eyes widened. “We have to call the cops. Now!”

  “Why? Is the murderer here? Oh gosh,” Amy replied, hopping up and down on the spot.

  Heather whipped out her phone and dialed Ryan’s number. No answer.

  “Oh boy,” she murmured. “No answer.”

  Amy rushed into the hall to call the cops on her cell. Minutes passed, and Heather stared out of the window at the donut box.

  She’d bet anything that the donuts were poisoned. That whoever had decided to attack had been keeping an eye on murder cases in the area. A copycat.

  The scariest part about that was that a copycat didn’t commit a murder once. They were usually serial killers – which would explain the heart in lipstick, the calling card.

  Amy strode back into the kitchen. “They’re on their way.”

  “You know, for the first time, I feel truly out of my depth on this one. It just seems a lot more dangerous than any of the other investigations,” Heather said.

  “Why?”

  Heather tapped her bottom lip. “Because we don’t have any suspects. And because the killer, ah, Ames, I don’t want to scare you, but the killer might have done this before. This doesn’t look like a once off deal.”

  Amy’s eyes went round as donut holes.

  “You’re the focus of the attacker’s attention. I just, is there anything you want to tell me? Has anyone been snooping around lately? Giving you trouble.”

  Amy licked her lips.

  “Amy, you know you can tell me anything.”

  Her bestie nodded reluctantly. Dave trotted into t
he kitchen and snuffled around the skirting boards in search of crumbs for his ever-extending belly.

  “One of my ex’s from way back has been hanging around. Jed. You remember him, don’t you?”

  Heather scrunched up her eyes. “I think so. He was the Star Wars nerd, right? High school?”

  “That’s right. Anyway, he came around and tried to rekindle the passion. Except Kent was here, and I have no interest in rekindling anything with him, ever. He didn’t take it well. Screamed that he’d get me back for embarrassing him,” Amy replied, then hung her head. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “Amy, you have to put embarrassment aside and tell the cops.”

  “I know, I know. It’s just been so confusing. I’ve spent most of my time at the hospital with Kent. I haven’t gotten the chance.”

  The knock at the front door made them both jump.

  “Looks like you’ll get your chance right now,” Heather replied.

  Chapter 5

  “This was a good idea,” Heather said, wiggling the end of Dave’s leash to get him to keep up the pace.

  Heat surrounded them in a haze, pushing them along the sidewalk and towards the coolness inside Donut Delights in the distance.

  “If you say so,” Amy replied, and fanned her face. She puffed her cheeks out and exhaled. “I suppose it’s good to get the blood pumping. I just get that paranoid feeling that we’re being watched.”

  “Relax,” Heather said and swatted her on the arm. “It’s the middle of the day, and thanks to your tell-all to the police last night, they’re already looking out for Jed. Man, I can’t believe he’s still around.”

  “Me neither,” Amy said, and then yawned. She probably hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep lately, what with the hospital visits and stalking. Poor woman.

  Dave made a strange groaning noise, less than a bark or a growl. Even he was lethargic in this heat.

  “Don’t worry, little buddy, we’re almost at the store,” Heather said.

  The dog wagged his tail in response, another feeble movement.

  Amy chuckled. “This walk has sucked the cheekiness right out of Dave. And I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not interested in a coffee today.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Heather said, as a car rushed by on the street. “We’re stocking lemonade, sodas, and the newest addition to our little bakery – homemade milkshakes. Ice cold. In almost as many flavors as the donuts.”

  “I had no idea,” Amy replied, and she visibly perked up. The sun shone down on them, baking the backs of their necks. They strode past a parking lot, ignoring the cars because looking at them meant catching glare from the metal.

  Heather grabbed the front of her blouse and waggled it to cultivate some kinda breeze, but it didn’t work. She ended up hotter and sweatier than she’d been a second before.

  “Vanilla Cheesecake milkshake,” she said, that’s what I’ll have.

  Dave’s bark was louder this time, and he gave her the doggy side-eye.

  “No, Dave, not for you. You can have the healthy alternative.”

  “What’s that?” Amy asked.

  “Water.”

  Dave sniffed and turned his back on her. Sometimes, the dog was far too in tune with their conversation. Oh, she’d pay for this tonight. He’d probably wake her up in the early hours of the morning and demand a potty break.

  Heather scanned the road and frowned. A man stood on the other side of the street, tapping a sneaker on the rough concrete of the sidewalk, with his hand up to shield his eyes.

  He waved once. “Hey, Amy!”

  “No,” Amy whispered, and stopped in her tracks. “Oh no, no, no.”

  “What’s the matter?” Heather asked. Dave yipped a complaint. They were two buildings from Donut Delights.

  “No, I don’t want to talk to him,” Amy replied.

  “Who is that?” Heather asked, but her stomach twitched and turned. She already had her answer.

  Jed I. Knight strode across the road, without checking both ways the crazy man, and hurried up to them. “Amy,” he said, wearing a grin wider than Dave’s when he got a donut.

  “Jed,” Amy replied, and sniffed. “What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk.” Jed reached for her.

  Heather stepped in his path and deflected his hand with her arm. “I’m sorry, Jed, but Amy doesn’t want to speak to you anymore. She’s going through a particularly tough time at the moment. I’m sure you’ve heard what happened to her boyfriend.” Heather pronounced the word ‘boyfriend’ as loud as she could without actually shouting at the man.

  Grime and sweat streaked Jed’s forehead. A mustard splotch stained the left breast of his sleeveless vest, and his hair was mundane. Seriously, it stuck up at odd angles, sweaty ringlets danced every time he moved.

  “Heather Janke,” Jed said, and narrowed his eyes. “I remember you from high school. You’ve gotten chubby.”

  “You always were a charmer, Jed,” Heather replied, and flashed a smile. “And it’s Shepherd now.”

  “Someone married you? I didn’t see that coming.”

  These insults would’ve been far more effective had they come from a man who didn’t smell like a ten-day-old sushi platter.

  “Yes, someone did marry me. I’m sure you’ve met him. His name is Detective Ryan Shepherd.”

  Jed swallowed, his Adam’s apple jogged up and down his throat. “No, I haven’t met him.”

  “You will soon.” Heather nodded. Dave growled – he loved backing her up, loyal dog that he was.

  Jed tapped his dirty sneaker again, a miracle that he hadn’t put on open-toed sandals, and stared past Heather at her bestie.

  Amy had shrunk back in the interim. The attack on Kent had truly taken its toll on her. Usually, feisty Amy was pale. She trembled slightly and looked from Jed to Heather, then back again.

  “Amy, come with me. Let’s talk.”

  “No.” Amy replied, and the color flushed her cheeks again. She drew herself up straight and glared at him. Whatever terror spell he’d had her under had dissipated the minute he’d tried to boss her around.

  No one bossed Amy around.

  “Why were the cops at my house this morning? It’s your fault. You told them, didn’t you? I’m going to make you pay for this.” Jed raged, the patch of skin just above the collar of his vest went bright red. “I had to run away from them. I had to run away. Me.”

  “And you’re angry because you hate running?” Heather asked.

  “You shut your mouth, woman!”

  A siren whooped in the road behind Jed, and all three of them jumped. Dave didn’t, of course, he sat and glared up at Amy’s stalker, a low growl rumbling in his furry chest.

  Ryan had the lights on in his cruiser. He left the engine running, opened the door and got out. “Mr. Knight. I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Jed, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to my husband,” Heather said, then gestured.

  The stalker’s eyes darted from side-to-side. He checked the route through the parking lot, then frowned at the rows of cars there.

  Ryan smiled broadly. “Mr. Knight, I’m afraid you have to come with me. We’ve got a couple of things to talk about.”

  Chapter 6

  “This is nice,” Ryan said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I know I’ve been super busy with work lately. I hope you haven’t felt neglected.”

  Heather smiled lightly, if only to hide the pang of guilt within her. Yes, Ryan had come home late several nights this week, but she’d used the spare time to research the case.

  And she’d managed to draw up a tiny bit of information on the heart marking the attacker had left in lipstick.

  The whole reason she’d suggested they catch up for dinner. He was on call, so they’d popped into Dos Chicos – their absolute favorite hangout – for a couple of plates of quesadillas.

  “I understand. I’ve been busy too.”

  “Donut Delights?”
<
br />   “No,” Heather replied, then shrugged. “Well yes, but that’s not why I’ve been busy. I’ve been trying to figure out what happened to Kent.”

  “Heather,” Ryan said, his fingers twitched, but he didn’t release her hand. “You know I don’t want you to investigate this.”

  “I know. I know that it’s not allowed, and I’m not technically investigating. I’m just gathering information to give to you. Besides, it was Amy who first started freaking out about the torn up picture of her and Kent together.”

  Ryan shrugged. She’d told him all about it the minute it happened, and taken the picture as evidence. “I need you to stay out of this.”

  “You said, once, that I could come to you if I had any information.” Heather bristled beneath her sleeveless summer, dress. “You said, as long as I didn’t interfere –”

  “Fine,” Ryan replied, and sniffed. “What’s the information?”

  “Well, if you ask like that then maybe we shouldn’t discuss it.” Heather withdrew her hand from his and grabbed a quesadilla instead. She dipped it into the salsa and spurted some across the table, accidentally.

  “Whoa, don’t take your anger out on the food. That’s good sauce,” Ryan said, cracking the cheese ball grin she adored.

  “Salsa,” Heather replied. How could she be angry with him? He was right, after all. And he had every right to be irritated with her for going against his instruction – this was his career.

  If Ryan decided to appear in her kitchen in Donut Delights and try to interrupt her baking process, she’d also become frustrated.

  “I love you,” Ryan said, suddenly.

  She grasped his hand and squeezed. “I love you too. I’m sorry. I’m just really worried about Amy. I’ve never seen her this up and down before, and I hated the way the Jed guy spoke to her. Like she owed him something.”

  “If there’s one thing people need to learn is that the world owes them nothing, and neither do other people.” Ryan picked up a quesadilla himself and stole some guacamole from the bowl beside his plate.