Dying for a Donut (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 5)

by Cindy Sample

  I took a bite of my cheeseburger, but I was far more interested in Tom’s task force than I was in my lunch. “You still haven’t explained why you need Detective Reynolds’ help,” I said. “And Bradford’s, too.”

  Tom chewed for a while before answering. “You’re not going to like my response.”

  “So what else is new?”

  “True.” He took one more bite then set his burger down. “Without going into the details I know you’d love for me to share, let’s just say that I’m playing a part and so is Bradford.”

  “I already determined that from your new appearance. C’mon, I won’t be upset.”

  “There’s a high-level drug baron who believes that I want into his action. He’s invited me to a party at his penthouse apartment in Reno tomorrow night. It’s the perfect opportunity to check out his place. Bradford will accompany me as my bodyguard. The only problem is these parties include a few unusual perks.”

  “Perks?” His statement perked me up. “Anything I’d be interested in?”

  “Are you in the market for a female escort?”

  I almost spit burger onto my plate but managed to swallow before sputtering, “Say what?”

  He sighed. “I knew there was no good way to explain this. Let’s just say that Drug Lord A also runs an escort operation which brings in additional revenue. The escorts can be useful in hooking up their clients with drugs of all kinds. He already told me his party will include the crème de la crème of his women. Even offered me the pick of the litter.” Tom winced. “So to speak.”

  “That is yuck on so many levels. What are you going to do?”

  “Well, that’s where Ali comes in. She did undercover work for a few years in the city before…” Tom hesitated. “Anyway, the reality of it is that the only way I could think of to decline his generous offer was to tell him I was engaged.”

  “Engaged to Reynolds?” I squeaked.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “Yes. I told him that my hot fiancée would cut off my balls if she found me cheating on her.”

  For the first time in months, I was speechless.

  “With her help, the two of us can infiltrate what could be the headquarters of this operation. And with luck, wrap up our investigation in a couple of days. Isn’t that terrific?”

  I could think of a zillion adjectives to describe my opinion of his operation and terrific wasn’t one of them.

  I pushed my plate away as fear for Tom’s safety replaced hunger. “It sounds scary and dangerous,” I said, thinking of all the ways his operation could go wrong.

  “That’s the life of a policeman, Laurel. You know that.”

  “Yes, but…” My voice faltered as I collected my thoughts. For some reason, solving homicide cases had never seemed to present danger to Tom, even though I’d experienced some close calls when I’d stuck my nose where it didn’t belong.

  But this time, Tom was walking into a potential minefield.

  Tom hesitantly smiled at me. “So you’re on board with everything?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  His response was muted by the arrival of a very attractive woman. One I wouldn’t have recognized if she hadn’t interrupted our conversation.

  I gawked at the gorgeous, curvaceous female who slithered into the curved booth on Tom’s left side.

  “Hi, partner,” said the new arrival. She cozied up to Tom and wrapped her slender arm around his muscular forearm.

  “Detective Reynolds?” My eyebrows shot up to my bangs. She certainly cleaned up well.

  “In the flesh,” she said.

  I eyeballed the detective. She certainly hadn’t hesitated to display her flesh, particularly in the cleavage and thigh areas.

  “I’m so looking forward to working closely with Tom again,” she said. Her hand crept onto Tom’s thigh. He placed it back in her lap where it belonged.

  “Tom and I are both anxious for this task force to complete its mission,” I replied. “But I’m surprised you’re leaving without determining who killed Axel Thorson.”

  She rolled a pair of beautifully made-up eyes. Just because I was annoyed with her, didn’t mean I couldn’t notice carefully applied cosmetics. Liz would be proud of me.

  “That case is closed. The last piece of evidence arrived last night.”

  “But…” I started to say when she interrupted me.

  “Closed. Finis. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

  No, thanks. I could spell it out for myself.

  B-I-T-C-H.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Of course, the hotshot detective wouldn’t deign to disclose the last piece of evidence with a lowly amateur sleuth. My appetite died as well as any opportunity to finish my conversation with Tom. The three of us walked out of the restaurant together. Tom kissed me on the cheek and promised to call as soon as he could. Then he and Reynolds left together.

  The fake drug baron and his fake fiancée.

  I plodded back to Hangtown Bank, my gloomy frame of mind at odds with the sunny day. The rest of the afternoon flew by like an all-day chess tournament. It was difficult to concentrate on anything when my thoughts kept returning to Tom and his sexy task force associate.

  By the time five p.m. rolled around, I found myself looking forward to the meeting with Paul Thorson. Between my anxiety over my bank employment and my relationship with Tom, I could use a little advice.

  I left the bank five minutes early and hurried up the street to the Lifestyle Center. Serenity Sweets remained open with one customer at the counter. A sign next to the stairwell to the left of the bakery indicated Paul Thorson’s office was located on the second level.

  The century-old wooden stairs creaked, announcing my arrival. Paul held the frosted glass door to his office open for me. Paul was a younger, shorter, clean-shaven version of his brother. After we shook hands and introduced ourselves, he led me into his office where I settled into a cushy chair. Framed posters on the walls displayed encouraging or, depending on your point of view, nauseating saccharine sentiments.

  Paul’s desk contained a photo of Serenity in her wedding dress, a laptop computer and a few scattered papers, which he pushed into a pile off to the side.

  “So, Laurel, what can I help you with today? Are you looking to make a career change?”

  “It’s more like my employer is considering a career change––for me.”

  “Ah, yes. Corporate downsizing is responsible for much of my client base. Tell me more about your current responsibilities. Are there particular aspects of your position that you enjoy more than others?”

  Great question. Paul actually sounded like he knew what he was doing. When I had more time, I might utilize him for some coaching. In the meantime, I needed to find a way to segue from my marketing career to my investigative hobby.

  “I handle marketing and promotions for Hangtown Bank,” I explained. “But the board is considering eliminating the department and outsourcing it to a Sacramento firm.”

  He nodded. “I’ve talked to many people in your situation. Have they determined when they’ll make the decision and whether or not to keep you employed?”

  “The decision is tied to my ability to bring in some large deposits from new clients. I’m also involved in planning the fall Apple Gala which was moved from Apple Tree Farm to Valley View Vineyards after, um, after your brother died,” I mumbled. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Paul’s grip on his pen tightened momentarily before he set it down. “Thank you. It’s been a difficult time for the family. Axel’s death was a huge loss for all of us.”

  “Poor Dorie. She has her hands full trying to keep the operation going successfully. My daughter works at the bakery on the weekends, and it’s been a complete zoo there lately. I don’t know how Dorie can do it all.”

  “She can’t,” he said flatly. “Axel never saw the need to teach Dorie anything about the operation. He assumed his son would take over the reins when he retired. My nephew is both sp
oiled and lazy. The most practical decision is for Dorie to sell the farm before she runs it into the ground and we all lose out.”

  “Is it easy to sell an apple farm operation? I would think a commercial enterprise could take a while.”

  “It depends. In our case, we already have a purchaser who’s willing to buy it lock, stock and barrels. Of apples.” He chuckled at his lame joke.

  “How fortunate for you. Someone local?”

  He drummed his fingers on the desk before replying. “It’s not public knowledge yet, and I still need to convince my sister-in-law it’s the only option right now. Since you know Dorie, maybe you can persuade her. It’s by far the best decision for everyone. I hope to sign the deal and announce it at the gala this weekend since it’s the most appropriate venue.”

  “At Valley View Vineyards? Why there?”

  “Because Walter Eastwood wants to buy the place in order to expand his winery. Apple Tree Farm has an asset some people consider even more valuable than wine.”

  I must have looked confused because he pointed to a plastic bottle on his desk.

  “An unlimited water supply.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  After four straight years of drought, water rights were considered liquid gold in California.

  “So Apple Tree Farm has pre-1903 water rights?” I asked.

  “Yep. According to the law, the State can’t mess with those rights.”

  From my years as a mortgage loan underwriter, I was somewhat familiar with the different types of water rights ownership in the state. The governor had recently announced that the primary water rights agency would assume control over some of the pre-1914 water rights, a move that had occurred only once before during the drought in the late seventies. But as far as I knew, no one, not even the State, could mess with the pre-1903 water rights. Although if El Nino didn’t arrive to save the day this winter, all bets could be off.

  “Is Walter hurting for water? How thirsty are those grapes?”

  He laughed. “Grapevines aren’t as thirsty as a lot of crops. It only takes thirty-two gallons of water to produce a glass of wine.”

  Hmmm. Maybe I should cut my showers even shorter. It was bad enough having a water shortage. A chardonnay shortage wouldn’t do at all.

  “Apples use a similar amount of water. In comparison,” he said, “almonds are really thirsty and need over a gallon per nut.”

  I leaned closer. “I think I misunderstood you. Did you say one dinky almond needs one gallon of water?”

  “You heard right. It takes a lot of water to produce a pound of almonds. Central Valley farmers were forced to fallow a number of their almond orchards this past summer. So you’ll see a shortage of nuts next year.”

  That all depended on your definition of “nuts.” The human variety seemed to be on the increase lately.

  “Fascinating stuff,” I said to him. And it really was. But I wasn’t here for an agriculture lesson. “Those water rights should make the farm especially valuable, shouldn’t they?”

  He shrugged. “The main reason it’s valuable is because Walter’s vineyard is adjacent to ours. After he expanded his operation, he realized his own water supply might not be sufficient if the drought continues, so he tried to purchase our farm. Despite my pleas, Axel refused to sell to him.”

  “So Axel’s death could have some positive consequences.”

  Paul’s eyes changed from the pale silver of a rainy sky to thundercloud gray. “I think we’ve discussed my family’s issues long enough. Let’s focus back on you.”

  I glanced at my watch. In less than ten minutes, he’d provided exactly the information I sought. Now all I needed to do was come up with enough dysfunction in my professional and personal life to fill the next fifty minutes of our one-hour session.

  No problemo.

  Our session ended a few minutes earlier than anticipated. Paul received a call he needed to take and not with me sitting across from him. He offered a free half-hour consultation later in the week, which I promptly accepted. As I closed the door behind me, I heard him greet his caller.

  Walter. Although it might not be Walter of Valley View Vineyards. But if I were taking bets, that’s who I would put in first place.

  I practically bounced down the sidewalk to the parking lot. Paul’s information regarding Apple Tree Farm’s value to its next-door neighbor provided a useful piece of evidence. It meant that several people had a reason to off Axel, notably Walter Eastwood. Although Paul, who was definitely in favor of selling the farm, and Dorie would also benefit from the sale. I gave Dorie long odds. I couldn’t imagine her killing her husband just so she could sell the property.

  Unless she needed cash to purchase more designer pillows for her new home.

  As for Walter and Paul, they were both odds-on favorites in my race to find the killer, with Walter leading by a nose. They both had wanted Axel to sell the farm, something he repeatedly refused to do.

  I was surprised how helpful Paul had been regarding my own situation. The man might not know anything about running a huge apple operation, but he was a terrific listener. In fact, he was so easy to talk to that once the conversation moved on to my romantic life, I’d almost disclosed all the details of Tom’s current undercover job to him.

  Now that I thought about it, I might have shared too much information with the life coach. Was this one meeting I would soon regret?

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  On Tuesday morning, I stopped at the bank to pick up extra brochures and flyers that detailed all the awesome services Hangtown Bank provides its customers. I also grabbed additional flyers for the gala. I was determined to be a multitasking maven today.

  I told our receptionist I would be making client calls most of the day but promised to check my voicemail periodically. My cell rang just as I reached my car. I juggled the flyers in one hand while I attempted to locate my phone in my purse.

  With no more hands to spare, I dumped the flyers onto the backseat and hit the green button on my iPhone before Liz’s call could land in voicemail.

  “Hi,” I eked out as I slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Good morning, luv, did I catch you at an inconvenient time?” She chuckled. “Nothing naughty going on is there?”

  “The only thing naughty in my life lately is my donut consumption.”

  “You poor dear. When is your honey coming home?”

  “He hopes to wrap things up fairly quickly. I just wish this case wasn’t so dangerous. He’s going undercover with…” I bit my lip before I disclosed too much to my friend.

  “Did you say undercover or under the covers?”

  Liz had no idea how close she came to hitting the nail on its head. I wouldn’t put it past Detective Reynolds to attempt both options. I trusted my boyfriend, but how far would Tom have to go to maintain his cover?

  “The first scenario only, I hope. I’m making sales calls. Did you need something?” I didn’t want to be rude, but I had clients to visit and suspects to interrogate.

  “Perfect timing. Can you please pick up my beauty supplies while you’re in the neighborhood?” she begged. “Brian and I drove up to Apple Tree Farm on Sunday. Camera crews were all over the place, so we turned around and came home. I’m really concerned those boxes will get tossed. I promise to throw in a free facial for you.”

  Far be it from me to refuse a facial. Detecting was not a wrinkle-free hobby. I agreed to visit the warehouse, and we hung up. I added Apple Tree Farm to my lengthy list of stops and began my circuit.

  All the farms I visited bustled with customers. The lurid murder tableau appeared to be driving in people by the busload. Cheerful orchard owners, whose registers were loaded with cash and credit card receipts, seemed pleased to see me. Especially after I passed out the autumn pricing specials offered by Hangtown Bank, specifically geared to the farm owners.

  Most of the owners planned to attend the Apple Gala, the kickoff event for the Apple Tree twenty-five mile bicycle race th
e following day. That would be one very long weekend for me since the bank sponsored both events.

  By two p.m., I’d met with six different apple farm owners and managed to refrain from sampling any of the enticing treats sold in their various bakeries. I grabbed a tuna sandwich at the Camino deli before I drove to Apple Tree Farm in search of Liz’s cosmetics. I rubbed my dry face with my palm. I could use that facial and the sooner the better.

  My plan was to look so gorgeous the next time Tom saw me that he would completely forget about his fake fiancée. And, if they wrapped up their case before the gala, I could frolic the night away with my honey.

  Which reminded me, we were out of honey at our house. Some of the locals swore that eating locally produced honey helped reduce allergies, and I was all for that. Especially this time of year. I sneezed twice in affirmation of my quest.

  I found a parking spot close to the bakery and produce barn. Once inside I strolled down the aisles, filling my arms with a container of honey, a pound of garlic-flavored pistachios and an apple-walnut salad dressing, all produced by local vendors. I turned a corner and bumped into Dorie and Walter chatting in low voices.

  “Sorry.” I displayed my wares. “I’m doing my weekly shopping here.”

  “Nothing we love more than that.” Dorie smiled then introduced me to Walter. “Laurel’s daughter works at the bakery on the weekends. Jenna has been a huge asset during these trying times.”

  He nodded. “Ms. McKay and I are working on the Apple Gala together. Everything coming along okay?”

  “Yes, I think you’ll be satisfied with the entertainment and the cuisine. Serenity Thorson and I discussed the menu, and it looks quite appetizing.”

  Dorie wrinkled her nose at the mention of Serenity’s name. “Remind me to eat before the gala. My sister-in-law’s food is better fit for rabbits than for people.”

  Walter’s eyes grew round, but I reassured him everyone would be awed by her food selections.