Dying for a Donut (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 5)

by Cindy Sample

  Great giveaway. So useful, too. And if those great big shoes belonged to my honey, we would need a truck full of tissues.

  Usually Mother was the one to boost my spirits, but it was time to reverse our roles.

  “Let’s talk about something more cheerful,” I suggested.

  “Like what? Axel’s murder? You almost getting killed yesterday?” she spat out at me.

  Hmm. Not a great week for anyone in our family. I switched directions.

  “Thanks for watching the kids last night. Did Jenna study for her SAT? We’ll both be relieved when that’s over.”

  “It may not be over for a while. Jenna told me she’s so concerned about Tony being locked up again that she hasn’t been able to concentrate. She’s even thinking of skipping the test this weekend.”

  “No way,” I protested. “We already paid for it. Besides, she can take it again if she doesn’t score as high as she should. It will be good practice for her.”

  “Jenna seems quite enamored with this Tony. I hope she’s not one of those studious girls who for some reason are attracted to bad boy types.”

  At this point, I couldn’t decide which was worse, dating a bad boy or dating someone who spent his life trying to catch bad boys. I only knew I wouldn’t be able to fully recover from my injuries until Tom and Bradford were both home safe in the arms of their loving, angst-filled women.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The doctor arrived a few minutes later. He proclaimed my injuries to be healing properly but warned me to take it easy for the next few days. I chose not to ask whether his definition of “easy” included chauffeuring children, planning a gala and working at the Apple Tree bakery, all while hunting down a killer.

  The nurse stuffed me into a wheelchair and rolled me down the corridor. She seemed to be in a particularly good mood––most likely as thrilled to get rid of her patient as I was to be released from the hospital.

  Mother drove me home and announced she would spend the day with me. She placed my teapot on the burner then scoured my pantry looking for something edible. She discovered a blueberry scone mix and decided to whip up a batch. Considering their expiration date was a year earlier, the pastries didn’t taste any drier than scones normally did. I enjoyed the pampering and gathered it helped Mother to do something other than fret about her husband.

  I was debating who to call for an update on the Reno shooting when my cell rang.

  Tom. Thank goodness. I fumbled with the answer button and tried to remain calm. That lasted about two seconds before I shouted into the phone. “Are you okay? What about Bradford?”

  The phone was silent for a minute, and I thought we’d lost our connection. Then Tom spoke, his voice still and somber. “I’m fine. But Bradford…” His words disappeared into cell phone ether.

  “Tom, are you there?” I repeated to no avail before my phone informed me the call had ended.

  “Are they okay?” Mother asked. Her hand shook, and honey-gold liquid sloshed over the rim of the mug she carried and dripped onto my carpet. She dashed back into the kitchen temporarily distracted by a new crisis. A trail of tea droplets scattered across my carpet.

  With two kids living in my house, spills occurred on a daily basis, but cleaning up gave Mother something to do while we waited to hear back from Tom. The short wait gradually increased to an hour. I finally switched on the TV hoping for another newsflash. I debated between several talk shows and settled on Dr. Oz’s latest tips for losing weight, which seemed to involve all things green: veggies, coffee beans and tea.

  If he included green M&Ms, I might even sign up for his program.

  My cell rang twice more, each time indicating Tom was on the line, but nothing could be heard other than static. Every time the phone blared, my heart jumpstarted. At this rate, I would suffer a heart attack and land back at Marshall Hospital before long.

  The roar of the school bus pulling away interrupted my negative thoughts. Ben entered the house and hurled seventy pounds of solid muscle at me.

  “Take it easy, honey. I have a couple of cracked ribs.” I tousled his hair and kissed his cheek. “I missed you last night.”

  “I missed you, too.” He examined my forehead. “You don’t look so hot. Did the bad guy get you?”

  Most likely, but I didn’t need to share that with my son.

  “Just an accident. How was soccer?”

  That question sidetracked any inquiries about me while Ben regaled me with highlights from yesterday’s practice. Moments later, Jenna entered the family room.

  “Mom, you’re back.” As she drew closer, her expression went from joy to concern. “You look awful. Grandmother said you’re lucky to be alive.”

  I sent my mother a dirty look.

  “You are lucky to have such minor injuries,” she replied. “This is why detecting should be left to real detectives.” Mother shook her finger at Jenna. “And that means you, too, young lady.”

  Jenna shrugged, the silent version of “whatever.” “I’m sorry you were hurt, Mom, but I’m glad you’re still trying to get Tony out of jail.”

  I didn’t bother to correct her. Technically, I’d been trying to recover Liz’s cosmetics when the shelves crashed down on me, but if the killer thought I had information worth killing for, then we’d learned something.

  Maybe when the swelling in my brain went down, I’d know what it was.

  Both kids went upstairs to work on their homework. The five p.m. news came on so Mother and I settled in my matching plaid wing chairs. Pumpkin jumped into my lap, either sensing I needed something to pet or just wanting to cuddle. Her gentle purr calmed me as I eagerly waited for an update.

  Leila opened her broadcast with a few local newsworthy items before finally switching to the Reno crime scene. The Reno reporter, looking hot in a suit and tie, held the mike in one hand while he pointed out items of interest with the other. Curious bystanders crowded behind the yellow barrier tape while law enforcement personnel attempted to clean up the scene.

  The newsman stood close to a large sign in front of the three-story building. Bright gold letters against a black background spelled out the words Aces Financial Group. I leapt out of my chair, and Pumpkin tumbled to the floor with a meow of protest.

  “Authorities haven’t revealed the full extent of their investigation,” the newsman announced, “but one source claims a joint task force took down a huge money laundering and drug operation today. Sadly, one El Dorado County Sheriff’s Deputy was fatally wounded during a shootout, as was one of the suspects. Two other parties were also injured and transported to a Reno Hospital. Their names have not yet been released.”

  He droned on for another minute but didn’t provide any additional information. I glanced at my mother. She sat ramrod stiff, her hands cemented to the arms of her chair.

  “It looks like our honeys will be home soon,” I said, “assuming they’ve rounded up all the members of the money-laundering gang.”

  “You did hear him mention that one El Dorado County Deputy was killed,” she said in a whimper.

  “Yes, and I’m very sorry to hear that. But your husband isn’t an official deputy anymore. Only a consultant. So that means it can’t be him.” I wasn’t certain my logic was logical, but if it provided her some emotional relief, I would stick with it.

  She chewed bright pink lipstick off her lower lip. “I suppose that makes sense.” Her shoulders drooped. “What a nightmare.”

  I tried to think of something to distract her. “Did you notice the sign on that building the newsman stood in front of during his broadcast?” I asked. “Aces Financial Group is the finance company that lent money to Axel Thorson. I met one of their employees at Apple Tree Farm shortly before my warehouse incident.”

  “Now that’s a strange coincidence.”

  “You’re telling me. I wonder if this will impede Walter Eastwood’s purchase of the farm. According to Dorie, Walter planned on assuming their loan.”

  “Why woul
d Axel go to a hard money lender to get a loan?”

  “He must have been desperate. Maybe the local banks rejected his application, and Aces Financial was a lender of last resort. They could have a legitimate lending business going outside of the money laundering operation.” I paused as I thought it through. “In fact, a finance company is the perfect front for money laundering. What better way to use illegal cash than to make legal loans?”

  “True. And if the borrower can’t pay off the loan, Aces can foreclose and scoop up some valuable property,” Mother added.

  “Or, if the foreclosure process took too long, they could use other methods,” I said. “Like murder.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  On that cheery note, Mother and I prepared dinner for the four of us. I kept glancing at my cell, but the screen remained message free. After a few minutes of subdued conversation and quiet chewing, my phone rang.

  I jumped up, grabbed my cell and walked upstairs, my heart and ribs both throbbing, but for different reasons.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Tom. “Your task force has been all over the news.”

  “So I gather,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “I hope they’re not scaring the rodents back into their rat holes. We weren’t able to round up everyone.”

  “Before I ask any more questions, is Bradford okay? You were cut off last time you called.”

  “He’ll be fine. A bullet clipped him on the shoulder.” I crumpled on my bed in relief. Tom added, “He saved Ali Reynold’s life.”

  “Omigod. What happened?”

  “One of our target’s bodyguards shot and killed a Tahoe deputy, an undercover cop from their narcotics squad. Then the thug took aim at Ali. Bradford shoved her out of the way. That man can move despite his size. He must be spending his retirement watching Dirty Harry movies. He took the shooter out at the same time.”

  “Wow,” I said, in awe of my stepfather’s prowess. “Mother will either be proud of him or ready to kill him herself.”

  “Ali can’t stop talking about him. I think she’s hoping to persuade him to come back to the department.”

  “I’m just glad you’re safe. I’ve been worried out of my mind.”

  “It’s the nature of my job,” he said. “You know that.”

  I did, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  “We managed to catch the kingpin and most of his cronies, but a few of his cohorts were out of town when this came to a head yesterday. At least, we have their names and an accomplice or two willing to provide evidence in exchange for a more lenient sentence.”

  “Would it surprise you to know I met someone from Aces Financial Group yesterday?”

  “Nothing you do surprises me anymore,” he said. “Can I ask where and why?”

  “I bumped into him at Apple Tree Farm. Axel borrowed a huge sum of money from the finance company. A representative met with the owners yesterday to discuss a sale to Walter Eastwood. When Dorie visited me in the hospital this morning, she said Walter agreed to assume the loan. I wonder what will happen now.”

  Complete silence greeted me. “Tom. Tom?” I said into the phone. “Are you there?”

  “Sorry, I’m trying to process what you said, starting with the word ‘hospital.’”

  “Oh.” I wondered how much to share with him. He’d been through so much in the last few days. What were a few bumps, bruises and cracked ribs in the ultimate scheme of things? “I suffered a fall at Apple Tree Farm trying to retrieve some of Liz’s cosmetics from the warehouse. Nothing to worry about, Sweetheart. I’m home where I belong. And, hopefully, you will be back here soon.”

  “It could take us a few more days to sift through their records. I’m curious about the man you met yesterday. What was his name?”

  “I didn’t catch it, and Dorie couldn’t remember either. We both agreed he was icky.”

  “That description will certainly help when I send out my bulletin,” Tom said drily.

  “Sorry. If you had a photo, I could identify him.”

  “Let me see what I can do. Is there any way you can find out his name without ending up in the hospital again?”

  I certainly hoped so.

  Tom needed to get back to work, and I knew Mother would be dying to find out how her husband was faring, so we hung up. I’d only reached the top of the staircase when she appeared in the foyer below, a dish in one hand and a towel in the other. Her worried eyes searched my face.

  I smiled and her shoulders relaxed. “Bradford’s fine. A bullet grazed his shoulder. I guess he’s a big hero.”

  “He’s too old to be a hero,” she sniffed before dissolving in tears. She dried her eyes with the dishtowel proving that true love could overcome a lifetime fear of germs.

  “Where is he?” she asked. “Can I visit him?”

  “He’s at St. Mary’s Hospital in Reno. Why don’t you call?”

  Mom spun on her designer heels and sped back into the family room to grab her phone. My head pounded, my cracked ribs hurt, and the bruise on my thigh seemed to have expanded since yesterday. I followed her into the family room, eased into the wing chair and considered my next step.

  Tom’s phone call had me wondering if the sleazy lender had anything to do with Axel’s death. How likely was it that a mortgage led to murder?

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  After nine hours of blissful sleep, I arrived at the bank a few minutes late on Thursday morning. Staffers greeted me with sympathetic looks and curious eyes and ears. The Human Resources Director even stopped to chat with me. Since I’d ostensibly been making sales calls, she wanted to know if I planned to file a workers’ compensation claim.

  Even if I wanted to file a claim, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t know who to direct it to: Hangtown Bank, Apple Tree Farm, Liz’s Golden Hills Spa, or the anonymous killer? I told the director my injuries were minor and not to worry about the bank’s welfare.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, patted me on my sore hand and recommended I stay out of trouble.

  Hah. As if I could.

  Stan also stopped by bearing gifts. A jumbo bottle of Ibuprofen and a bright orange hard hat.

  “Very funny.” I glowered at him.

  He reached into his shopping bag and pulled out a small box of candy from the Candy Emporium. “Dr. Stan prescribes two pills followed by two truffles. You’ll be up chasing suspects in no time.”

  He sat in the chair in front of my desk. “Really, Laurel, I think this is one murder you need to sit out.”

  “You may be right, although it looks like I’ve made the killer nervous.”

  Stan frowned. “You’ve also made me nervous. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  That I could definitely guarantee. Stan gently hugged me then left my office. Seconds later Liz called to see how I was faring. She informed me we were lunching with Adriana at Serenity’s place today. Adriana had requested a sampling of the food Serenity planned to serve Saturday night, and the caterer reluctantly had acquiesced. I couldn’t think of a reason to refuse a free lunch so I agreed. Besides, Axel’s sister-in-law might know the answers to a few questions of mine.

  I walked into the bakery a few minutes after noon. Adriana and Liz were already seated at a small table by the front window.

  I slid out a wrought iron chair and joined them. They both stared at me.

  “You’re looking, uh…”Adriana stopped and glanced at Liz.

  “You still look like a cement truck ran over you.” Liz reached into her designer bag. She fumbled inside and pulled out something that resembled a tube of lipstick.

  “I don’t think rosy lips will help my appearance,” I protested.

  “Try it,” she insisted. “It’s a new product called Magical Erase. It’s from the Beautiful Image line. And now that you mention it, did you locate my products before your accident?”

  The last thing I’d planned on mentioning was her merchandise until I found out whether they’d been crushed along with me on Tuesday night.
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  “Not yet.” I abruptly switched subjects. “So what’s new with the gala, Adriana?”

  “Walter’s in a tizzy about his Apple Tree Farm purchase and whether he should announce it at the gala or not. Did you know the company who gave Axel his loan was also into money laundering? It’s so difficult to believe Axel would do business with people like that.”

  “Desperate people sometimes do desperate loans,” I said.

  Three plates of savory smelling food were placed on the table. “I heard what you said about Axel and that lender,” Serenity said. “I can’t believe he signed his and Paul’s inheritance away to that crook.”

  She grabbed a fourth chair and joined us. “Eat up. I’ve got a freezer full of ribs for the gala so you better like it.” The “or else” was implied in her tone of voice. I couldn’t blame Serenity. It was a little late to be sampling the gala menu.

  Anything would be an improvement over the hospital food I’d recently consumed, however Serenity’s fare deserved four stars at a minimum. All three of us cleaned our plates with contented smiles.

  “Excellent meal,” I said to her. “And amazing you can pull it off with all of the stress you two have been under.”

  “If Axel had sold the property when Paul first begged him to unload it, none of this would have happened,” she complained.

  I was about to ask her to elaborate when she addressed Adriana. “Are you satisfied with the cuisine, Ms. Menzinger?”

  “It will do,” Adriana replied in a cool tone. “Please have your staff at Valley View Vineyards no later than four p.m. on Saturday.”

  Serenity nodded and stood. She retrieved our empty plates, although I could swear she muttered “up yours” as she walked away. The sound of earthenware clattering against a metal counter assaulted our ears.