Dying for a Donut (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 5)

by Cindy Sample

She finally pulled away, tears careening down her cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re here. This is the worst day of my entire life.”

  My daughter was only seventeen. There were plenty of worse days to come, although I had to admit this day would easily make it into my top ten.

  Jenna turned to face the officer. “How much longer will Tony have to stay here?”

  “Oh, he’s not leaving any time soon,” said the deputy.

  “What do you mean?” she asked him. “You can’t keep him in jail for an illegal U-turn.”

  “No, but we can keep him in here for murder.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jenna slumped against me, almost knocking the two of us onto the grimy floor. I straightened her up but kept my arm around her in case more shocking news followed.

  “You’ve arrested a friend of my daughter’s for murder?” I asked Deputy Becker. I was beginning to feel like I was in the middle of a Twilight Zone episode. It was time to cut to a commercial.

  “Your daughter was a passenger in a car driven by someone who’s recently been under investigation. When he made an illegal U-turn, the officer who stopped him discovered an arrest warrant had been issued two hours earlier.”

  “You mean she was kidnapped?” That was the only explanation I could imagine for why my daughter had been a passenger in the car of someone with an outstanding arrest warrant.

  “No, she wasn’t in the car under duress,” the officer replied. “I was under the impression Antonio is her boyfriend. Look, I’ve probably said more than I should as it is.”

  “But you can’t arrest––” Jenna cried out before he interrupted her.

  “Please take your daughter home before she says something she regrets and ends up spending the night in juvenile detention.”

  Jenna seemed to be in shock, so I shoved her out of the jail before she did anything that could lead to an official arrest. She said nothing further as we walked to my car, but she had to know a grilling was in store. Before my interrogation began, I called Patty and told her we were on our way.

  Both Bradford and Tom had left messages while my phone was set on vibrate. I’d update them as soon as I had something worthwhile to share. I started the car, checked the rearview mirror to ensure no patrol cars were in my way and turned right for the short drive to Patty’s house.

  Jenna stared silently out her window. My patience, never a strong suit, had almost run out of gas when she finally opened up.

  “Thanks for coming to get me,” she murmured.

  “Of course, any time,” I replied then corrected myself. “Except there better not be a next time. I have a million questions to ask and only a few minutes to get answers before Ben hops in the car. First, who is Antonio and why were you in his car?”

  “Don’t you remember Tony Perez?” she said. “From Apple Tree Farm? The guy who clobbered you?”

  I flinched, remembering the sound and feel of his fist against my cheek.

  “Amber and I stopped at Starbucks after band practice and ran into him there. We started talking, and when Amber had to leave, Tony offered to drop me at home.”

  “Jenna, you know better than to let a strange boy drive you to our house,” I chided her.

  “He’s not a stranger. I’ve worked with him for the past three weekends. Plus he’s Nina’s grandson. That should be a good enough reference for you.”

  “I didn’t realize he and Nina were related,” I replied. “But still, you and I both heard Axel accuse Tony of stealing money. How can you trust him?”

  Jenna threw out her full lower lip, a facial expression I knew too well. “Don’t you trust me enough to choose my friends?”

  I didn’t trust myself to answer her question, so I moved ahead to the question that had been burning neurons in my brain since we’d left the jail.

  “Of course, I have confidence in you. But your safety is my highest priority. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Ever. Not if I could help it. “What do you think the deputy meant about Tony being held in jail on a murder charge?”

  “That’s why Tony wanted to talk to me.” A couple of stray tears puddled on her high cheekbones. “He was afraid that with Axel’s death, he’d never be able to clear his name regarding the cider house thefts. He assured me he would never do anything like that.”

  Her tears flowed faster than a broken faucet. “Plus it was my fault he got pulled over. We were talking, and he missed the turn on to Green Valley Road. I told him to make a U-turn at the next light. I forgot you can’t make one at that intersection anymore, and he must not have noticed the sign. The next thing we knew, a deputy sheriff pulled us over. The officer returned to his car to check Tony’s registration, and a few minutes later a second car arrived. They shoved both of us into the back of the patrol car.”

  She swiped at her tears with the sleeve of her sweater, dotting the pale fabric with blots of mascara. Keeping my left hand on the steering wheel, I reached behind the seat and grabbed a few tissues from the battered box on the floor. My mother might deride my car as cluttered, but I consider it a conveniently-stocked home on wheels.

  “The detectives must think Tony returned to Apple Tree Farm that evening or early the next morning to kill Axel,” I remarked.

  Jenna blew her nose. “Stupid detectives. I wish Tom were here examining the evidence.”

  That made two of us. Although I wished Tom and I were examining each other.

  Focus, Laurel.

  “You have to help him, Mom.”

  “Honey, I can’t interfere with their investigation.”

  “That didn’t stop you from helping Dad and Mr. Chandler.”

  “Those cases were different. Your father is, well, your father, and he needed all the assistance he could get. As far as Mr. Chandler, I had information the police found helpful.”

  “Fine,” Jenna replied in that teenage tone of voice which translated into it not being at all fine. “Then I’ll just have to investigate myself.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  We arrived at Patty’s house to discover she had already fed Ben dinner, so that was one less item to worry about. My teenage Nancy Drew clammed up for the rest of the ride, although her silence was barely noticeable since Ben chattered nonstop all the way home. I tried to concentrate on his conversation, but my brain shifted into overdrive as I assessed Tony’s situation.

  Despite Jenna’s plea for me to get involved, I barely knew the young man. There was no need for me to meddle.

  For a change.

  We arrived home and I hit the remote control. The overhead door groaned as I drove my car into the crammed-to-the-ceiling garage of the Craftsman-style house my ex had built fifteen years ago.

  Ben unfastened his seat belt and opened the rear door of the car. He reached over and grabbed his stuffed backpack off the floor where he’d dumped it. Jenna eased herself out of the front seat. She stared at her fully loaded brother for a few seconds. Then she shrieked.

  “Jenna, what’s the matter?” I rushed around the car to her side.

  “My backpack,” she said, a horrified look on her face.

  “What about it?” I looked around for the forest-green backpack in question.

  “I left it in the back of Tony’s car. When the cops took us to the jail, I forgot all about it.” She slumped against the passenger door. “My books, homework and SAT study guide are inside. And I left my oboe, too.”

  “Where is Tony’s car now?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure he never expected to remain in jail. Would they tow it somewhere?”

  “I’m as clueless as you are. Let me call Tom and see if he would know.” The downside of having a detective boyfriend is his schedule. The upside is an “in” with the homicide department.

  Lucky me.

  My call to Tom landed in voicemail. It could be minutes or hours before he returned it. I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and changed into a tee shirt and a pair of shorts. Although Ben had eaten di
nner, Jenna and I had not. I didn’t know about my daughter, but I was starving.

  I optimistically rummaged through the freezer and scored a quart of leftover beef stew. Although no one would ever confuse my cooking with Rachel Ray’s cuisine, I could whip up a palatable recipe or two.

  And there’s nothing like a home cooked meal to make up for a brief stint in the slammer. I placed the stew in the microwave to begin the thawing process and pulled some romaine lettuce, tomatoes and avocado from the refrigerator for our salad. My cell phone trilled halfway through my slicing and dicing.

  I glanced at the screen and promptly put down my paring knife.

  “Thank goodness you got my message,” I said to Tom.

  “You were babbling,” he said, “I mean talking so fast that all I gathered was that Jenna was at the county jail. Is she okay?”

  “Not really, but it could have been worse. One of the teens she works with at Apple Tree Farm was arrested for murder this afternoon.”

  “I heard about that. But how is Jenna involved?”

  “Tony was giving her a lift home and then was pulled over for an illegal U-turn,” I explained. “Jenna feels it’s her fault he was arrested because she directed him to make the turn.”

  “You should be glad she’s not dating this fellow. Or is she?”

  “No, although he came to her rescue a time or two at work. I’m sure it’s merely a mild infatuation. The McKay women just can’t resist a man with dreamy brown eyes, you know.”

  That comment elicited a chuckle followed by a remark that made my body not only tingle, but I could actually hear bells ringing.

  Oops. Merely the microwave dinging and announcing our stew was ready.

  “I’m sorry Jenna is involved in this situation, but since she wasn’t arrested nothing will show on her record,” Tom said. “Why do you need my help?”

  “She left her backpack and her oboe in Tony’s car. She needs to study for her SAT exam. I was hoping you could use your super powers to help me retrieve it.”

  “I’ll give Reynolds a call and find out where the car was taken. Be prepared though. Her backpack could be considered evidence.”

  Evidence? Yikes. “Tom, please do something. I don’t care what it takes. Jenna needs her backpack. If you think it will help persuade Reynolds, I’ll bake some of my toffee brownies for her.”

  There had to be some way to get into the detective’s good graces. And who doesn’t love brownies?

  “I don’t think Ali is big on sweets. She’s pretty disciplined about staying fit and…” his voice trailed off as quickly as my annoyance rose. “Never mind. I’ll get right on it, Sweetheart.”

  Nice save, Sweetheart. But I could be magnanimous. After all, Tom had managed to remain my boyfriend through thick and thin, well, at least through thick.

  “Jenna and I both thank you,” I said. “And I plan on personally thanking you by––” I stopped when Jenna walked into the kitchen.

  “I’m waiting,” Tom teased.

  “Jenna just walked in, so you’ll have to wait until you come home. When exactly are you due back here? Can’t the other team members keep an eye on the bad guys for twenty-four hours?”

  He sighed. “This particular operation is proving larger and more complicated than we anticipated. I’ll try to get some time off this weekend. I want to see you and of course spend time with Kristy. She doesn’t understand why she has to live with her grandparents while I’m up here.”

  “I’ll try to arrange a sleepover at our house for her,” I said, my voice softening. I realized that Tom, a widower, was not only missing his girlfriend, but also his only child, his eight-year-old daughter Kristy.

  “A sleepover is a terrific idea,” he said. “And maybe someday we’ll all…hey, a call came in. I have to go, but I’ll handle Jenna’s problem as soon as I can.”

  Okay. Tom would hopefully take care of that problem. All I had to do was arrange a couple of sleepovers.

  One with children.

  And one without.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As I replaced the phone on the receiver, Jenna glanced up from dishing the stew onto two plates. “Your face is all red. Are you okay?”

  I grabbed a napkin and fanned myself. “Must be a hot flash.”

  Or a flash of the hots. I opened a drawer and brought out utensils for each of us. Next stop: the refrigerator to cool myself off. Milk for Jenna and a well-deserved glass of chardonnay for me.

  Although, after a day like today, an entire bottle was justified.

  We sat at our kitchen table and chewed our dinner in silence. I’d interrogated Jenna enough this evening. She was undoubtedly still stewing over her missing backpack and trying to come up with a backup plan for her homework.

  “Mom, what if––?” Jenna’s question was drowned out by the sound of our landline ringing. My fork clattered onto the plate as I raced to answer it before the caller hung up.

  “That was quick,” I said, recognizing Tom’s cell number. “Good news?”

  “Not exactly,” he replied. “Or to be more specific, not at all. Reynolds considers the backpack evidence.”

  “That’s ridiculous. She’s just being a Class A b…” I said, but he cut me off.

  “No, she’s being a Class A detective.”

  “Why would Jenna’s backpack be considered evidence?”

  He sighed one of those heavy “why-doesn’t-my-girlfriend-understand-me?” sighs into the phone. “Let’s just say Reynolds needs to consider everything associated with a person of interest.”

  “What does that have to do with Jenna?”

  “Since Jenna works at Apple Tree Farm, had an issue with Thorson’s son and has been associating with their primary suspect, she is a person of interest.”

  “That is plain ridiculous. Reynolds’ policy might make sense when dealing with homicide on the streets of San Francisco, but it’s far different here.”

  “Murder is murder. All detectives have their own way of investigating a crime of this magnitude. Reynolds is very thorough. I can personally attest to that.”

  Thorough in what, is what I wanted to know.

  I jumped when someone tapped me on my back. “What’s going on?” Jenna whispered. I shook my head and started up the stairs. Tom and I needed to finish our conversation without any interruption from the subject of said conversation.

  I shut the door to my bedroom and flopped down on my bed.

  “So what am I supposed to do?” I asked Tom. “Just sit on my hands until Reynolds drives up to the high school, cuffs Jenna and carts her off to jail?”

  “Don’t you think you’re being overly dramatic?”

  “No, I’m acting like a concerned mother.”

  “Look, I need to get going. Please don’t do anything to tick off Reynolds. This situation should be resolved in a day or two. In the meantime, maybe some of Jenna’s friends can help her out and lend her their textbooks or something.”

  I only wished it were that easy. But in ten years’ time, Tom would become familiar with the extent of his own teenage daughter’s homework. Until then, Jenna and I would try to get by without alienating any El Dorado County homicide detectives.

  That could be the toughest assignment yet.

  The next day I arrived at work a few minutes early. Rather than upset Jenna further, I’d kept Tom’s update to myself. I merely shared that he was working with Reynolds to resolve the situation.

  I’d written a note to her counselor explaining her predicament, hoping to alleviate her teachers’ immediate concerns. Her calculus and AP English teachers had taught her previously when she was a freshman, so they already knew what an excellent student she was. Her physics teacher was an unknown entity at this point. Since the school year had only begun a month ago, he might not be as enamored of her as most of the faculty.

  Which reminded me, I wondered how enamored the Hangtown Bank Board was with my marketing presentation. I’d spent many hours on that project and hoped A
driana had done it justice. There were no messages from Mr. Chandler, so I didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned.

  As I debated whether to call Mr. Chandler or fetch a cup of coffee from the break room, my cell rang. I dug deep into my purse to retrieve it. My initial hope that Tom was on the line vanished when I recognized Gran’s ring tone.

  “Is everything okay? Why aren’t you in class?” I asked, surprised by the early morning phone call. Gran’s Tai Chi sessions began at eight a.m. on Tuesday and Friday. It was rare for her to miss one.

  “Something’s come up that’s more important than me pretending I’m a white crane spreading my bat wings. I got us a case.”

  “A case of what?”

  “A mystery. You know, a case for us to solve.”

  I rubbed my right ear wondering if my hearing was starting to go.

  “Gran, you’re not making any sense.”

  “Girl, you got to get with the program. You remember my friend, Nina, who runs the Apple Tree bakery?”

  “Of course, she’s Jenna’s boss.”

  “Well, her grandson is that young man who decked you last Saturday. Remember him?”

  “Yes, unfortunately.” I involuntarily stroked my injured cheekbone, which remained a sickly shade of chartreuse and purple under the thick beige foundation I’d been applying every morning. “Jenna informed me yesterday that he’s related to Nina. But what does this have to do with you and me?”

  “The cops arrested him last night for supposedly murdering Axel Thorson.”

  “I’m aware of that, too.”

  “His arrest just about broke poor Nina’s heart. That’s why she hired us.”

  The more Gran talked, the more confused I became.

  “You mean she wants us to work in the Apple Tree Farm bakery?”

  “Of course not. She wants us to find the real murderer.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Gran, have you been nibbling on your neighbor’s medicinal brownies?” I asked.