“She’s still matchmaking. Me and Brent.”
“Meow!”
“You saw him only a few hours ago.”
“Mew.”
“I invite him over a lot, you know,” I said sternly. “Just to please you.”
Tail up, she trotted upstairs.
“It’s true,” I muttered, following her. “You and Brent are especially fond of each other. I’m merely your go-between.”
* * *
The next morning, minutes after Misty, Hooligan, and a couple of other officers seated themselves at a table in the middle of our donut shop, a woman came in and sat at the next table, so close that she could have turned halfway around in her chair and touched Misty.
It took me a second to recognize Gabrielle. Instead of a duchess gown and fur capelet or a pomegranate-red minidress and apron, she wore pink and lavender plaid shorts, a pink T-shirt, and lavender sandals. And her hair wasn’t pinned up. It fell in dark brown waves and curls around her shoulders in a style similar to the one that Taylor, a blonde, had worn as queen.
Jocelyn served the police officers, and I welcomed Gabrielle to Deputy Donut.
Gabrielle asked, “Did you enjoy our Happy Hour? You should come earlier and stay longer next time. And bring friends so you won’t have to sit alone.”
Carefully, I didn’t point out that she was sitting alone, at least at the moment, in Deputy Donut. I told her, “I liked that nut mixture and your selection of draft beers.”
“We’re good at Frisky Pomegranate, even down to the lowliest waitress—me.”
“And now I get to be your waitress. Are you cashing in one of your coupons?”
“How’d you know?”
I smiled at her. “It was a wild guess.” Fallingbrook merchants had awarded the members of the Fourth of July royal court gifts and prizes. Tom and I had given each of the four winners coffee and donuts for a year—fifty-two coupons for a coffee and a donut. They could use them any way they wanted. They could cash in one per week, treat themselves and fifty-one of their best friends all at once, or do anything in between.
Gabrielle ordered a cappuccino and an apple jelly–filled donut.
When I brought them to her, I asked how she was doing.
Although I hadn’t been certain on Friday evening at Frisky Pomegranate that Gabrielle had yet heard about Taylor’s death, she now obviously knew about it. Her shoulders sagged. “I can hardly stand it! Poor Taylor. She should have had a long and wonderful life.” She picked up a Deputy Donut napkin and dabbed at her eyes. “And now she can’t.” Jerking her head back, she sniffled and then raised her voice. “I’m absolutely devastated. I’ll miss her forever. She was my best friend!” Gabrielle spoke so loudly that Hooligan, who was across the table from Misty, stared at her.
Tom was getting ahead on donut production, and Jocelyn had given the police officers their donuts and coffee and had gone to the front of the shop to take orders from other customers. I seized the chance to talk to Gabrielle a little longer. I asked with genuine sympathy, “You knew Taylor for a long time, didn’t you?”
Gabrielle wailed, “Ever since we were little tiny girls! We were best friends and we were rivals, too, but in the best way, the way that helped each other. Maybe if I’d been elected queen, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Startled, I asked, “Do you think someone harmed her on purpose because she was elected queen?”
Gabrielle dabbed at her eyes again. “I don’t know what to think. But maybe if I’d been elected queen and someone went after me the way they went after her, I’d have noticed and put a stop to it. Anyway, best friends are willing to take each other’s place.”
“Even if they know they’ll die?”
“How would I have known that?” she demanded. “I didn’t know my best friend was going to die!” Then she must have realized that she’d still been talking loudly and that, to the police officers at the next table, her words might have resembled confessing that she had lit the firework but hadn’t believed that Taylor would die of her injuries. Gabrielle practically shouted, “I had no idea anyone was even being threatened on the Fourth. If I’d known what was going to happen, I would have told my bestie not to go to the fireworks that night.”
Customers kept glancing curiously at her. In an attempt to calm the atmosphere to the usual Deputy Donut camaraderie, I spoke quietly. “Would she have listened?”
“Of course she would. If I’d known, I’d have told her, and she would have believed me, and she would be sitting at this table this very minute.” She kicked at the leg of the chair beside her, moving it slightly as if someone were on it.
Hooligan had stopped staring at Gabrielle, but he had turned his upper body toward her.
Aha. He was aiming his body cam at her. People at nearby tables were laughing and talking. Cutlery clattered against ironstone mugs and plates. The microphone on Hooligan’s camera would have to be sensitive to pick up all of Gabrielle’s words. Right behind Gabrielle, Misty was sitting very still, as if listening.
Gabrielle pointed the uneaten half of her donut at Jocelyn. As if she now wanted to prevent the police officers at the next table from hearing anything she said, she asked quietly, “What’s she doing here?”
“She’s our new assistant.”
Gabrielle nodded slowly. “Watch out,” she murmured. “She was a couple of years behind Taylor and me in school, but everyone knew who she was because she was, like, always winning awards. No one believed she got those perfect grades fairly. Plus, she worked with Taylor at Freeze, only I shouldn’t say that Jocelyn worked there. She was paid there. But she’s a celebrity.” She drew the word out, putting a sneer in her tone. “People treat celebrities better than they treat ordinary people.”
I wasn’t able to control a surprised widening of my eyes. “But you’re a celebrity.”
“I only just became one.”
“Do they treat you differently at Frisky Pomegranate?”
“They’re okay, but they don’t spoil me. I’m not like Jocelyn, famous since she was a baby. Some people get everything.” The bitterness in her voice did not come from her coffee or her donut.
I had to defend our new employee. “Actually, Jocelyn is a very hard worker. She’s good with customers, and she’s talented at decorating donuts. With her brains and persistence, her good grades aren’t surprising.”
Gabrielle gave me a sour look. “She’s good at faking it. Taylor told me all about her.”
I offered a dry little smile. “At the moment, she’s doing more than her share, so I’d better go help.” I hurried to the kitchen.
Misty and her friends left. Wearing a smug look on her face as if she’d accomplished a goal, Gabrielle followed them out. I didn’t see which way she went.
Working in the kitchen later, I heard children’s voices near the front. Jocelyn called out, “Look who’s here, Emily! The birthday boy!”
Chapter 17
The cute little blond boy had barely gotten inside Deputy Donut with his family when he burst into tears.
Jocelyn and I both rushed to him. The bigger sister hugged the boy. His older brother patted his shoulder. The other girl’s eyes welled with tears.
Jocelyn and I asked at the same time, “What’s wrong?”
The boy sobbed, “My birthday skyrocket!”
The mother explained, “We’d like to buy six donuts, please, like the ones you gave us on Thursday.”
The longer I can keep this family here, the more I can find out about them. I asked, “How about if you sit down at a table, and we’ll decorate some?”
Smoothly, Jocelyn added, “Since it’s not the Fourth of July, how about rocket ship sprinkles instead of stars?”
I grinned in silent praise for her quick and brilliant suggestion.
Tearfully, the boy nodded.
Jocelyn glanced at me. “I’ll go put them together.”
I thanked her. With a surprising amount of discussion, the kids and their parents chose
a table and decided who would sit in which chair. I asked them what they’d like to drink. The kids opted for lemonade. The father wanted tea, and the mother wanted our special coffee of the day, a smooth organic brew from Bali.
I hurried into the kitchen and told Tom I needed to call Brent. Tom raised an eyebrow but went across the kitchen to the counter where Jocelyn was injecting blueberry jelly into three partially hollowed donuts. He whispered to her. She handed him the injector, washed her hands, and went to the dining area to wait on customers.
I followed her out of the kitchen and then headed for the office. Dep woke up, leaped to one of her carpeted pillars, and climbed to a tunnel near the ceiling. Waiting for Brent to answer his personal number, I slipped outside to the parking lot. About a dozen cars were in the section near our shop.
“Hey, Em.” Brent’s voice was warm. Apparently, he wasn’t in a meeting.
I spoke quickly, anyway. “The family we gave the stack of donuts to on Thursday just came into Deputy Donut. They wanted donuts like the ones they had on the Fourth, so it’s taking a little time to prepare them, but I don’t know how long we can keep the family here.”
“Thanks, Em. Don’t make any attempt to keep them there longer than they want to be. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He disconnected.
The only vehicle in our parking lot big enough to hold a family of six was a minivan. Quickly, I walked past it and glanced inside. Colorful toys and books were spread around the two back seats. I snapped a picture of the license plate.
I returned to the kitchen and whispered to Tom that Brent was coming over in a few minutes, and then I poured the family’s drinks.
I set the little boy’s lemonade in front of him. He looked up at me. Tears filled his blue eyes. “I losted the skyrocket cake you gave me. It was the best birthday cake ever and I losted it.”
This was potentially huge news to pass on to Brent, but I tried hard to look like a caring adult, not an excited amateur sleuth. “Thank you. That’s a very nice thing to say about the donut cake, and I’m very sorry it got lost. How about if we make the six donuts that Jocelyn is decorating right now into another skyrocket cake?”
He said in a heartrendingly sad voice, “Yes.”
I glanced at his parents to see if they minded my talking to their small son. The mother smiled, so I asked the boy, “How did it get lost?”
He sniffled. “I don’t know! I put it in a safe place and then I went into the bouncy castle. I bounced and bounced. Then they told me I had to stop bouncing. I went to put on my shoes.” Tears spilled over his lashes.
His mother asked him, “Was that when your cake got lost?”
The younger of the two sisters, who was not much older than the boy, said, “He had that bag with him when you went to make your hair appointment, Mom.”
The boy nodded vigorously.
Fallingbrook hair salons must have been busy on the Fourth. At least two of them had been open that morning before the parade.
The mother tilted her head. “I don’t remember. I was concentrating on talking to Felicia and getting out of there before any of you tipped over one of those giant hair dryers.”
Felicia.
The older sister’s eyes flashed. “That’s not fair. We wouldn’t do that.”
The bigger boy said, “Maybe he took it to the restaurant where we ate dinner. Remember? Before we got a table, we went into that little room, and Dad put some of the stuff we’d been carrying up on a shelf where only big people would see it.”
The mother looked up at the ceiling for a second. “We could have left it in the coatroom.”
The five-year-old jumped up and down in excitement. “That’s what happened! Let’s go get it!”
Almost positive that the donuts had been blown up and that the bag they’d been in had been thrown out near my donut car, I told the boy, “By now, that donut cake wouldn’t be very good.” If my conjectures about its fate were correct, that was an understatement. “The one we’re making for you now will be much better.” I asked the father, “Which restaurant was it?’
“A new one. A pub, really, but the food is good. It’s just north of the square.”
The smaller of the two girls said, “And it had a funny name, like a puppy.”
“Pomegranate,” her big sister corrected her, “not Pomeranian.”
Her mouth an O, the littler girl stared at her big sister for a second. Then she stated, “I don’t care. When I get a puppy of my own, I’m going to name her Pomma . . . Pomma . . . what you said.”
The restaurant had to be Frisky Pomegranate, where Gabrielle worked. Had she dropped in there before the fireworks and found the stack of donuts in a bag? Had the candle sticking out of the top donut given her a deadly idea?
Or maybe the family had actually left the bag at Felicia’s.
The mother said, “I hope someone found those donuts in time to eat them while they were fresh. Otherwise, what a waste!”
Another understatement . . .
She added, “Who can resist donuts?”
I smiled. “No one.”
Not even Brent, although he hardly ever visited Deputy Donut with other police officers during breaks. He was coming in now, though. His summer-weight gray suit and white shirt could have given him away as a detective.
The boy’s parents, if they noticed Brent at all, did not seem concerned.
I asked the boy, “Would you like us to package your new stack of birthday donuts for you to take with you, or would you rather have it served now? We can light the candle, and everyone in here can sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ ”
Walking past me as I delivered this long and involved speech, Brent didn’t greet me or hesitate. Even if he hadn’t guessed who the family were, he had to have heard enough of what I said to figure it out.
The birthday boy leaped down from his seat and tugged at his dad’s arm. “In a bag, just like before! You promised we could take it home and sing ‘Happy Birthday.’ And open presents.”
The father ruffled his hair. “You already opened your presents.”
“But there could be more. If we sing.”
His two oldest siblings quickly and succinctly informed him that wasn’t how it worked, but he seemed unconvinced. He was adamant about taking the donuts home in a bag. I asked the mother if the family had gone to the fireworks on the night of the Fourth of July.
The two youngest kids answered for her. “Yes!”
The birthday boy put his hands over his ears. “Noisy.”
His slightly older sister scoffed, “You fell asleep.”
“Did not.”
“Did. And the fireworks were pretty.”
I asked the boy, “Did you see anyone else with a skyrocket cake like the one you lost?”
He stuck out his lower lip. “No one else could have one like mine.”
His mother grinned. “I’m sure those first six donuts were quickly devoured by whoever found them.”
The father was watching me as if wondering whether to stop my questioning of his children. I couldn’t blame him. He answered quietly, “I didn’t see one.”
I excused myself. “I’d better go see if the frosting being put on those donuts is hard enough not to smear when we stack them.”
Tom was on the kitchen side of the serving counter, pouring coffee into a mug for Brent.
I breezed past them and picked up a bag, a birthday candle, toothpicks, and the platter holding the six specially injected and decorated donuts. I put them all on the counter in front of Brent. Inserting a toothpick into the bottom donut, I quietly told Brent about the places the family thought they might have lost the donuts. His eyes gleamed slightly for a second when I mentioned Felicia and again when I mentioned Frisky Pomegranate. I slid a donut on top of the first one, stuck in another toothpick, and eased another donut onto the other two. “I don’t think the kids are making up tales to hide the fact that they’re vicious murderers.” Brent grinned. With the help of more toothpicks, I stacked
the rest of the donuts while I told him about photographing the license plate in the parking lot.
“E-mail the picture to me later?” he asked quietly. I wondered if a new girlfriend was encouraging him to suddenly start wearing whimsical ties. Tiny gray goats were kicking up their heels all over this one.
I stuck the birthday candle in the top donut. “Sure.” Tom helped me slide the stack of donuts into the bag. I said just loudly enough for both men to hear, “I was going to give these to the family for free, but if they pay with a charge card, we’ll know at least one of their names.”
“Don’t charge them anything,” Tom said. “Let Fyne work for the money the fine folk of Fallingbrook are paying him.”
I took the bag with its top still open to the birthday boy and held it where he could peek inside. He crowed, “That’s the best cake ever!”
The father asked for a bill, but I said it was all on the house. We argued about it until Tom joined forces with me. Acquiescing, the family stood to leave.
I didn’t need to watch to see if the family got into the van I thought was theirs. Tom let Brent into the office where Brent would get a good view of the van.
Helping me clear the family’s table, Jocelyn asked me, “Who’s the suit playing with Dep?”
“A friend of Tom’s and mine.” She’d probably find out eventually, so I added, “He’s a detective.” It didn’t seem to faze her.
Tom opened the back door. Brent put Dep down, went outside, and disappeared from my view.
Later, after Tom, Jocelyn, and I closed and tidied the shop for the night, Dep and I walked home and ate dinner—fishy for her and beefy for me. I still hadn’t heard from my parents. I was debating whether to drive out to the falls right then or wait until the next day, my first planned day off other than Christmas and New Year’s since Tom and I opened Deputy Donut a couple of years before.
Misty called and made the decision for me. “Can I talk to you, Emily?”
Chapter 18
I invited Misty to my place.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Is it okay if Samantha comes, too?”
“Of course. Does that mean you’re not coming on police business?”
Jealousy Filled Donuts Page 11