Heather stood in the hall, caught between intrigue and duty. She turned and walked back to the living room. Everything would be all right.
But the sooner they caught this killer. The better.
Chapter 9
Lilly and Amy snored on either sofa, covered in comfy blankets, their fingers stained with chocolate from the donuts. The stress had tired them out.
The night had begun with Christmas trees and joy and ended in anxiety. Heather hovered beneath the arch which led into the room, gaze caught on Lilly’s face. She had a bit of tinsel caught in her hair.
The front door opened, and Ryan entered the house. “The cops are gone,” he said. “The others, I mean.”
Heather sighed and rested her forehead against the white jamb. “Good. Lilly kept peering out of the curtains to catch a glimpse of them.”
“How did you stop her?” Ryan asked.
Heather pointed at the credits which rolled on the TV screen. “Jurassic Park. How else?”
Ryan held out his hand, and Heather took it. He led her down the hall and into the kitchen, then helped her into one of the chairs beside their small, square table. The red and white Christmas baubles in the vase at its center wobbled.
“I’ll make you some coffee,” he said. “We’re going to need to talk this, through.”
Heather’s curiosity finally got the better of her. “What did you find?”
“Whoever it was, they scratched the paint along the side of the house. No hidden messages or anything, but they had to have used a pretty strong metal object. The scratches are deep.” Ryan shook his head and grabbed the empty coffee pot. “I don’t like the look of it.”
“I’ll tell you. It didn’t sound great, either.” Heather scratched the base of her neck. “Anything else?”
“A cigarette butt,” Ryan said.
Heather went cold from head to toe. The kind of foreboding iciness which spread through her chest and into her soul. “The killer.”
“At our house,” Ryan said and nodded as if she needed a reminder. “I sent the butt to the lab for testing. Kind of messy for the killer to have left it right outside the house.”
“It’s almost as if they want to be caught out,” Heather said. Why would that be?
The coldness didn’t leave her. The only time she’d experienced a killer wanting to be caught had ended in an attack.
“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions. They could be clueless, for all we know. We’ve taken on sloppy murderers before. Remember the coral snake?”
“I remember,” Heather said, then rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “What are we going to do, hon?”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, and walked to the faucet. He filled the pot, then emptied it into the top of the coffee machine.
“I mean, this isn’t safe for Lilly. We’ve got a meeting with her social worker coming up, and if she thinks Lilly is in any danger with us, not only will we lose our chance to adopt her, but she’ll probably take Lilly away from us, period.” Heather’s throat closed.
“Relax, babe. I won’t let that happen. We’ve got an alarm and a panic button. There’s always someone here with Lilly, every hour of the day. She’s never in any danger,” Ryan said.
“You weren’t here. You didn’t see how scared she was. I don’t have a license to carry a firearm, hon, and I don’t feel like I’d be able to protect her if something happened. It’s fine when you’re here. You’re a cop. But when it’s just us, it freaks me out, a little.” Heather said, and the tears stung her eyes.
“All right,” Ryan said. “Then let’s phone Eva. We’ll ask her to look after Lilly until this case is over. Whenever I’m at work, Lilly will be with Eva.”
“And what then? This isn’t going to be our last case.”
“Then,” Ryan said and grabbed the coffee grounds from the pot beneath the window. “Then, we’re going to revamp the security system in this house. We’ll make it so tight that it’s impossible to break into. Each time I’m not home, you turn on that alarm, and it’s foolproof. Burglar proof. How does that sound?”
“Better,” Heather replied, and exhaled. “Yeah, that sounds better.” Perhaps she had overreacted a little. She just wanted everything to be perfect for her daughter and Christmas.
“That’s settled then,” Ryan said and turned back to the machine. “Lilly will be safe when I’m not around. We’ll be able to solve the case. Everything will be fine.”
Heather couldn’t share her husband’s enthusiasm this time around. She’d never expected this much pressure before Christmas, for heaven’s sake.
The coffee pot bubbled and the aromatic scent drifted through the kitchen and curled around Heather’s shoulders.
She relaxed at last.
Boy, life sure had been simpler when she’d just been a donut maker and nothing else.
Chapter 10
Heather swept between the wrought iron tables in Donut Delights and forced a huge smile on her face. She’d struggled to keep her chin up since the morning, even though Lilly had trotted off to school, happy as could be.
The night before had transformed into a grand adventure in Lilly’s mind. Dave had been the star as the protector.
“It’s in the back of the newspaper.” Eva’s voice carried from her spot by the window, a few tables away.
Heather refilled a customer’s cup.
“But why is it even news?” Emily Potts asked. “It’s just some lady who’s gone to a retirement home.”
“Carolyn Fordyce was more than some lady in this town, dear,” Eva said. “She was stinking rich and basically a Hillside celebrity.”
Heather froze. Coffee dribbled down the side of the mug, and she snapped the coffee pot upright. “Sorry,” she said and fumbled a napkin from the table. She handed it to the customer. “I’m so sorry about that.”
The woman, a redhead with sparkly green eyes, smiled up at her. “It’s no problem,” she said and dabbed at the side of the cup.
“So, she moved into a retirement home?” Emily asked. “I still don’t get why that’s a big deal.”
Heather turned and hurried to Eva’s table. She filled her friend’s cup. “What are you two talking about?”
Emily’s face colored. “Just some old lady who moved into a retirement home or something.”
“She’s not old, dear,” Eva said. “That’s the point. She needs assisted care from a nurse because she’s lost the will to look after herself.” Eva tapped the Hillside Reporter with her wrinkled forefinger. “It’s all in here.”
“Oh, okay,” Emily said and shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Emily hadn’t been in Hillside for that long – she didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation.
“Ems, would you mind taking the coffee pot around the store? I want to chat with Eva,” Heather said.
“Sure,” Emily replied. “Anything for you, boss.” She scooped the pot from Heather, then hurried off to fulfill her duty.
Eva tapped the side of the wrought-iron table. “Take a seat, dear. I saw you nearly jump out of your skin at the mention of Carolyn Fordyce,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
Heather lowered herself into the chair opposite Eva. She crossed her ankles, then placed her hands on the glass top. Her filigree watch tapped against its surface. “It’s just, that’s the second time Carolyn’s name has come up in the last day or so. What happened to her?”
“Well, you know I’m an avid reader of just about anything,” Eva said, and squished forward in her seat. Story time had commenced. “A few months ago, the Hillside Reporter published an article about her. It was rather slanderous. They told the story of Carolyn, the mother who’d disowned both her children and who’d driven both of them into danger.”
Eva pursed her lips and shuddered.
“But that’s not true. She can’t be held responsible for what happened to Christa. Or to Billy for that matter.” This was too close to home. Hadn’t Sharon Janis planned something similar
in her mean diary?
Eva rapped her knuckles on the front of the newspaper. “You know how these journalists are. They’re incorrigible. They’ll take anything, twist it on its head and present it as factual.”
Heather chewed the corner of her lip. “That’s terrible,” Heather said, and she leaned in closer.
Eva followed her lead.
“I found a book which belonged to Sharon,” Heather whispered. “I probably shouldn’t mention it, but I’m not sure it’s even relevant to the case anymore. Sharon was meaner than you realized, Eva.”
“What do you mean, dear?”
“She had a book full of rumors and gossip. Plans to make other people look bad,” Heather said.
Eva blinked her pale, blue eyelids. “I don’t understand. Why on earth would she want to do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it made her feel less insecure,” Heather said.
The woman’s room had been piled with makeup. She’d acted high and mighty, but on the inside, Sharon had been bitter and alone. Her son and husband had left her.
Heather couldn’t summon up pity for a woman who’d actively sought to harm other people. But she had to bring her killer to justice, and that was that.
Eva sighed and patted Heather on the arm. “Christmas is a stressful time,” she said. “Don’t let it get to you. I can’t wait to have Lilly over at my house this afternoon. I’m beyond excited.”
“So is she,” Heather said, and chuckled. “And so is Dave for that matter.”
“And Cupcake too, I hope.”
“As long as you have tinsel at your house, Cupcake will be over the moon,” Heather replied.
Eva’s smile lit up the room and Heather’s heart, too. She couldn’t stay sad with Mrs. Schneider around.
The stress from the night before leaked away, and determination slid in to replace it.
She needed more evidence to solve this case.
It was past time she spoke to another of Sharon’s numerous enemies.
Chapter 11
“Here we go again,” Amy sang. “On our own. Going down the only road, we’ve ever known. Like drifters, we were born to walk alone.”
Heather stuck her pink finger in her ear and wiggled it around. “Gosh, woman. You have the face of an angel and the voice of a choir of cats.”
Amy scoffed. “Whatever. You simply don’t appreciate the classics. I knew you didn’t like rock, but Whitesnake? Come on. That’s just lyrical genius.”
They strode up the path which led to Jane Leon’s front door. Between George Alvarez and Sharon’s sister, the suspects were thin on the ground.
Whoever had hung around and scratched up the side of Heather’s house had to be on that list.
They halted in front of the white, wooden door and Heather raised her fist to knock.
The door slapped inward, and Jane Leon appeared. “What do you want?” She asked. She dabbed sweat from her forehead, with the back of her hand.
“I – hello to you too,” Amy said.
Heather dropped her fist to her side. “Good afternoon, Miss Leon. I hoped to find you here.”
“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Jane said.
“Is this Déjà vu? I feel like we’ve traveled back in time.” Amy touched the air around her in a mime of confusion.
“Are you still helping your son unpack?” Heather asked, and peered past the woman down her hall. The boxes had disappeared and had been replaced with the strong scent of Lemon Pledge.
“No. He’s done moving in. Look, I’m busy working out,” Jane said. “If you must know. What is it?” The woman grasped the front of her sweatshirt and pulled it outward. It snapped back again with a wet schlap.
“Is your son home?” Heather asked. “I have a few questions for him.”
“What kinds of questions?” Jane countered. “I don’t need him more stressed out than he already is. He’s had the cops around here asking him about stolen money. Like he’d steal from that cheating, horrible –”
“Mom!” A young man, early twenties, strode up the hall. He wore a pair of loose, beige slacks, creased from hem to hip. “Mom, it’s okay.” Mark Leon’s voice grumbled in his chest and squeaked at the end of the sentence.
He cleared his throat.
“You must be Mark,” Heather said and extended a hand.
“And you are?” He took her hand and shook it once, firmly. He shook Amy’s too, and her lips twitched at the corners. She was used to total disregard on their daily adventures, no doubt.
“I’m Heather Shepherd. I’m working with the local police station to solve the murder of Sharon Janis. I believe you were acquainted with her,” Heather said.
“We exchanged a few words,” Mark replied, and the lines of his face tightened.
“Were they choice ones?” Amy asked.
Jane lurched forward a step. “You leave my son alone. He’s been through enough.”
Mark laid a large hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Mom, it’s okay. You get back to your cycling. I’ll speak to these ladies, all right?”
“All right,” Jane said and shook out her arms. “All right. I’ve got to get back to my cardio, anyway. But I’m watching you, Shepherd. Don’t you forget it.”
“Heather never forgets anything,” Amy said, deadpan.
Everyone stared at her in silence. She didn’t make a joke.
“Would you like to come in?” Mark asked, at last. “I’ll make you two some coffee. How does that sound?”
Jane huffed a breath, turned on her sweaty heel and marched off down the hall.
“As long as it’s not poisoned,” Amy said and wriggled her nose at Jane’s retreat.
“Don’t mind my mom. She’s always been a little overprotective. I think it’s because it was just us growing up. She’s dedicated everything to me,” Mark said.
He led the way down the hall, past framed family pictures of Mark and his mother, ranging from childhood to his graduation from high school.
They entered a kitchen dominated by lemon yellow tiles and a fluorescent light overhead. Sunshine pressed against the window pane and struggled against a thin layer of dust which clung to it.
Mark coughed into his fist. “Think I’m coming down with something,” he said. “Too much time outside.”
Heather stopped beside the melamine kitchen table – a lighter shade of yellow, thankfully – and dropped her gaze to the pack of cigarettes beside the ashtray. “It doesn’t help if you smoke,” she said.
“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to quit,” he said. “It’s harder than you’d think. Nasty habit I picked up working for George.”
“George Alvarez,” Heather said. If he’d picked up a bad habit like smoking, could he have picked up a little knowledge too? Like how to hotwire a car.
“That’s right. Guy has lost his darn mind. He thinks I’m stealing from him.”
“You’re not,” Heather said. Amy sidled to the counter and rested her forearm on top of it.
Mark poured water into a coffee pot. The squeal of the faucet and rush of water masked his reaction. “No,” he said, loudly. “No, I’m not. But I’m pretty sure one of his other employees is. I’m not sure who, but it wasn’t me.”
“Then why did he accuse you?” Heather asked.
“Because Sharon told him to,” Mark replied. He turned to face them, and a frown wrinkled his smooth brow. “They were having an affair before all this happened. They were in love, or so George said.”
“In love,” Heather said, and raised both eyebrows. George definitely hadn’t told them that. “Sharon Janis and George?”
“Uncle George,” Mark said, then coughed a laugh which turned into a high-pitched wheeze. “Oh yeah. She was there almost every day. It was cute until she started talking behind my back and making me look bad.”
“I see,” Heather said. George had lied about his relationship with Sharon. She’d have to pay him another visit, that was for sure. “Mark, where were you on the afternoon o
f Sharon’s murder?”
Mark placed the coffee pot on the counter beside him, and leaned the heels of his palms on the edge of the sink.
“I was here, with my mom. She can confirm my alibi,” he said.
It wasn’t a particularly strong alibi. A man who smoked, had a grudge against Sharon Janis and who lived within walking distance of Heather’s house had been home at the time of the murder?
“Thank you, Mark,” Heather said. “I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.”
“I’m here to help,” he said and shrugged his shoulders beneath his white cotton t-shirt. “What else have I got to do, now, right?”
Chapter 12
Ryan licked his fingers, then put down the burrito in the center of his plate.
The music in Dos Chicos had a distinctly muted vibe during the afternoon hours. Perhaps, they reserved the true salsa for the dance floor at night.
“Ugh, it’s good to sit back for a second,” Ryan said. “I’ve been spinning all day. Case information coming out of my ears and none of it adds up.”
Heather took a measured bite of her burrito. She chewed slowly and let the rich flavors brush across her taste buds. They didn’t excite her as much as they usually would. Probably, because burritos weren’t her favorite Mexican treat.
Heather swallowed. “What kind of information?” She asked.
“It’s the reason I asked to meet for lunch,” he said. “The lab came back with the results from the DNA test.”
“That was quick.”
“They’ve expedited the whole process,” Ryan said and puffed out his chest. “I may have leaned on them a little. Can you blame me, though? The murderer was at our house.”
“I don’t blame you,” Heather said. “But I can barely contain my curiosity here, hon. What did they find.”
“No conclusive profile,” he said, then raised his palm. “But don’t get disheartened. They did manage to ascertain one small fact.”
“What?” Heather popped her burrito on her plate, and beans bounced out of the end of the rolled tortilla.
“The smoker was a man. There’s no doubt about it. They didn’t pick up all the markers they needed, but they did find the male Y chromosome in there,” he said.
Hot Chocolate Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 29 Page 4
