Pistachio Lemon Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery- Book 12 (Donut Hole Mystery)

by Susan Gillard

  “Right?” Ryan said and swiped a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Best burger, ever.”

  Heather finished hers off and drank from her tall glass of milkshake.

  The restaurant had a typical diner vibe. Checked tiles and waiters and waitresses dressed in pastel colors and collared shirts. The bar stools in front of the linoleum counter had puffy seats.

  “We should do this again,” Ryan said.

  “I’m relieved to hear you say that, love. You’ve been quiet lately,” Heather said, then held up her palm when he made to explain. “I know why. I’m just saying.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk you about,” Ryan said. “You’ve officially been cleared as a suspect. Your alibi checked out, so you won’t be getting anymore visit from Davidson.”

  “Good. He seemed okay, but his questions weren’t.”

  “He does his best with the information his given. And he operates within the law,” Ryan said, pointing a sauce-tipped finger at her. He spotted the mess, wiped it off on the napkin, and grinned sheepishly.

  “That’s good news. I mean, about the whole not being a suspect thing. Now, we can get back to normal again, kinda,” Heather replied. She drank more chocolate milkshake, gulping the sweet, creamy fluid down with gusto.

  Ryan watched her, a small smile parting his lips, then reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I love you. Everything about you, especially the way you guzzle milkshake.”

  “I don’t guzzle,” she replied, in a dignified accent. “I sip.” Total lie.

  He patted her hand and chuckled, then glanced around the restaurant. He lowered his tone and gazed at her, intently. “Things are going slower than they should be with this investigation. You might’ve noticed they put Davidson in charge on this one, and while he’s good, he’s just not hitting the right leads or following through in the right way.”

  Heather bobbed her head up and down. That would explain why Mudd hadn’t seen any cops around at the South Bosque Bait and Tackle store.

  “If you’ve got any information to share with me, I’d be, uh, much obliged. Just so I can prod him in the right direction,” Ryan said, sheepishly. He scratched the back of his neck. He didn’t usually ask her for information like this.

  In fact, he’d warned her multiple times to stay out of this. Could Davidson’s investigation be spiraling out of control?

  “I have a couple of facts I might be willing to share, if you have some facts you might be willing to share.”

  “I’ll say what I can,” Ryan replied. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Honestly, I don’t have all that much to share.”

  Heather sat back and tapped her index fingers against the edge of the linoleum-topped table. “You got the email Geoff sent me, though?”

  “Yeah, I got that one. It’s angry but not anything that we can take him in for. Though, Geoff doesn’t have an alibi for the murder, other than he was out back unloading furniture.”

  “Right, but did you know that Jelly was obsessed with Geoff?” Heather dug around in her tote handbag and brought out Jelly’s journal. She slid it across the table towards her husband, then sat back and folded her arms. “That should clue you in on a lot of stuff.”

  Ryan flipped the journal open and paged through it. “How did you get this?” He asked, making eye contact at last.

  “I bought it at Pops Polinski’s yard sale. And get this, sold everything of hers. Everything that had any trace of memory with regards to Jelly was on sale.” Heather pursed her lips. “That’s pretty suspicious.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Ryan replied, scratching his stubbly chin between two fingers, the other half of his juicy burger forgotten on his plate.

  “Never mind, the fact that Plum Polinski and her sister didn’t get on, and that Jelly stole from her boss at the bait and tackle shop.”

  “Wow, Heather, you’ve been busy. You’ve found evidence Davidson hasn’t. Every time I try to follow a specific lead, he blocks me off,” Ryan said, more to himself than to her.

  “I haven’t found much connecting any of them to the crime scene, other than the fact that both Plum and Pops bought fishing line shortly before Jelly’s death,” Heather said.

  Ryan’s head snapped up and his keen-eyed gaze sliced right to the core. “Plum bought fishing line? Both of them did?”

  “That’s right,” Heather replied. “Why?”

  Ryan clicked his teeth together a few times, considering.

  “Ryan?”

  He blinked, stare unfocused. It slid back to her face, at last. “Because Plum Polinski was a silent partner in Geoff’s business. Couple that with the fact that Jelly stole the recipe book from you, and we’ve got an interesting scenario.”

  “Maybe Geoff asked Jelly to steal the recipes, but when Plum found out, she got really angry because she didn’t want to be implicated in her sister’s criminal activities?” Heather asked. “They had a strained relationship already, and when I spoke to her she acted… gosh, strange isn’t even the word for it.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah, the minute I asked her about Geoff, she shut off. Closed up shop,” Heather said.

  Ryan shut the journal and left it on the table. He picked up his burger, took a massive bite, and then gestured with it. “I wouldn’t encourage you to investigate. I want you to stick to your studies and stay within the law.”

  “But?”

  “But nothing,” Ryan replied. “Just know that my hands are tied in this case. Davidson’s in control, and if he doesn’t figure it out in time, we might have a problem on our hands.”

  Heather didn’t reply. She stared at her husband, love bubbling through her veins and into her heart. He’d given her permission to investigate, without the permission.

  She reached across the table and squeezed his free hand. She nodded once, and he returned it, expression grave.

  Chapter 14

  Plum Polinski’s SUV glinted outside Donut Delights. Passersby stopped to stare – the teenagers freaked out over it, the adults wriggled their noses or gestured grandly, tensing up at the sight of pollution on wheels.

  Heather stood, hands on her hips, staring at the honey-haired woman and she stared right back.

  Plum had positioned herself just outside the front door, standing with one hand on her hip. She examined her manicure, smacking her purple lips every few seconds, and glancing up at the Donut Delights sign.

  “What is she doing here?” Jung asked, ringing up another order. His fingers flickered across their touch screen computer, his gaze darting up to Plum and back to the monitor.

  “I have no idea,” Heather said.

  A young girl stepped up to the counter. “Two Pistachio Lemon Glazed Donuts, please.” She pressed a dirty fingertip against the glass counter and pointed at the two she wanted, then placed a few crumpled bills on the counter.

  Heather grinned at her.

  She’d never had a deep desire to have children, but she still liked kids. She pushed the bills back at the girl. “Oh the house, sweetheart,” she said, then bent and fished out a cardboard box. She deposited the two specific donuts into the box, sealed it, and handed it over.

  “Thank you so much, lady!” The girl said, beaming from ear to ear. Her gawky grin matched her oversized ears. She hopped off to the corner and sat down at a table with another of her little friends.

  “How sweet,” a voice said.

  Heather looked up, and her guts did a nervous dance. “What can I get for you, Plum?”

  “A chat in your office,” the other woman replied.

  Heather hadn’t noticed her slip in, but Jung stared daggers at her from behind the screen. He strode to the barista station and rustled up a couple of coffees, bowing his head, but casting dark glances at her from hooded eyes.

  “I’m a little busy at the moment,” Heather said, politely. “I’d be happy to schedule you in for an appointment, later in the afternoon.” She wanted Plum desperate to t
alk, and the best way to get someone to talk was to tell them they weren’t allowed to.

  Simple psychology.

  “We need to talk, now.” Plum flicked her hair, but it didn’t move at all. Whatever product she used was strong as steel.

  “As I said, I’m busy,” Heather replied and checked the number of donuts left in the case. They’d practically sold out, and it was still early morning. “Hey, Angelica?”

  The dark-haired beauty paused in the doorway to the kitchen. “Yeah?”

  “Bring out a tray of Strawberry Cremes, please.”

  “Anything for you, boss,” she replied, disappearing into the Donut Delights kitchen, smiling softly as she always did.

  “It’s about Jelly,” Plum said, loudly. Several customers turned in their chairs to look at her.

  Bingo.

  “All right,” Heather said, heaving a beleaguered sigh. “But we’d better make it quick. This is the busiest we’ve been since Memorial Day.” She patted Jung on the back. “Watch the front for me?”

  “Sure,” he replied, casting another narrow-eyed glance at Plum.

  She pretended he didn’t exist, checking her manicure for what had to be the twentieth time in as many seconds.

  Heather strode towards her office, opened the door and escorted Plum inside. She closed up, then circled the desk, running her fingers along it, relishing the smooth polish, then sat down in her chair.

  “What would you like to talk about?”

  “I spoke to Pops today,” she said. “He said that Jelly tried to poison his coffee.”

  “I take it you’ve heard I’ve been looking for answers around town,” Heather replied. Unless Plum had a different reason for her visit. Perhaps, it was business related and talking about her sister’s death was her ruse.

  “Yeah, I just don’t know who else to talk to,” Plum said, then lowered her head and sobbed. A fake sob. Terrible acting.

  “And you thought Jelly’s supposed attempt on her father’s life would, what, lead me down the wrong path?” Heather arched an eyebrow. The longer she stared at this woman, the more certain she became that she was the culprit.

  “What?” Plum asked, snapping upright, cheeks dry as almond flour.

  “I know, Plum, you don’t have to hide anymore. I know all about what you did, to your sister,” Heather replied, evenly. Her Taser was in her top drawer, just within reach in case Plum tried to get clever.

  “What? I didn’t do anything. You’re crazy.”

  “Oh?” Heather rolled back in her chair, raising her chin. “So you didn’t buy the fishing line from the bait and tackle store, right before Jelly’s death?”

  “Yeah, I did. For Pops. What’s the big deal? I always do his shopping, and he likes bass fishing around here.” Plum’s expression had gone blank. Her mouth slackened, her cheeks loose.

  “And you just happened to buy it for him the day before your sister, who you didn’t like, shows up dead in the new store you’re backing?”

  Plum gulped. “How did you know about that?”

  “I’ve got my sources. This is how I see it, Plum, you can admit to the fact that you got angry with your sister for stealing my recipes, and strangled her with the fishing wire, or you can hang around until the cops find it out for themselves and arrest you.”

  Plum slammed her palms on the desk and rose from her chair. “How dare you?” She trembled from head to toe. Even her hair shook this time. “How dare you? I would never hurt my sister. Never! I loved her, even if she didn’t love me.”

  “Huh, coulda fooled me,” Heather replied, arrogantly. Maybe she’d taken it a little too far this time.

  “You’re an idiot,” Plum shrieked. “I came here to warn you. To tell you that Pops is angry, that he’ll do anything to get back at you, that Jelly messed with him, and now she’s –”

  “Wait, what? What do you mean?” Heather asked.

  Plum swallowed hard, real tears dripping from her eyes this time. “Jelly hated Pops! He stopped her from seeing Geoff, so I created a way for Jelly to see her again. I invested in the business, and I planned on forcing Geoff to hire her once it was up and running.”

  “What happened?”

  “Pops figured it out. He saw the contracts in my purse when I was dropping off groceries the one day. He went insane. He hit Jelly, and she got angry. She wanted to poison him,” Plum said, her sentences coming out in long whines.

  “Oil in his coffee,” Heather whispered. “Fishing reel oil!”

  “What?” Plum asked.

  But fishing reel oil wasn’t poisonous, was it? Maybe Jelly had assumed it would be and used it anyway. Judging by her past criminal activities, she wasn’t the savvy kind.

  “Nothing,” Heather replied. “Plum, I’m sorry I doubted you. You need to tell the police all of this.

  “I did,” she replied. “They didn’t do a thing. They didn’t even question Pops properly. And now he’s gone. He’s missing.”

  Heather rose from her luxurious office chair, then paced to the window and stared out. “Plum, do you know anything else? Anything at all? Any idea where your father could’ve gone?”

  “Only that Plum and dad used to go fishing at this one spot on the river. I don’t know exactly where, but dad told her that he’d lock her up there if she didn’t get her act together. That’d he’d hurt her,” she whispered, her fingers scrabbling at her lips. “I’ve made a terrible mistake. I shouldn’t have told you this.”

  Pops Polinski was a terror. He’d reduced one daughter to tears and the other…

  Heather gritted her teeth. “Thanks, Plum, that’s all I need to know.” She spun on the spot and marched for the door.

  She wrenched it open and peered out. “Jung? Please fetch Miss Polinski any donut she likes, then call Detective Davidson at the station and have him come down here to speak to her. Tell him I’ve gone to the bait and tackle store, okay?”

  “Will do, boss,” he replied.

  “Bait and tackle?” Plum asked.

  “Stay here,” Heather said, then crossed to her desk and brought out her Taser. She picked up her cell and shot off two quick texts, one to Ryan, the other to Amy, then charged out of her office.

  Chapter 15

  “See that?” Mudd said, pointing at the bass in the magazine, a massive fish with a mouth to envy Al Capone’s. “That’s a prize winner, that is. It’s good to see you again, lady. Them donuts of yours are just fantastic. Best I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Mudd,” Heather said, glancing out of the front window at Amy and Dave, standing in the street.

  She’d messaged her friend to ask her to babysit Dave while she went off in search of the fishing spot, but Amy had thrown caution to the wind and come along. Perhaps, their previous run-in with their old high school friend, Luna Warde, had injected her with the adrenaline bug.

  “I’ve got to ask you something,” Heather said, “if you don’t mind the interference.”

  “Oh no, such an inconvenience. I am swamped with business,” Mudd replied, licking his thumb, then flipping the page in his fishing magazine. “What can I do for ya?”

  “I need information. Did Jelly ever mention anything about a fishing spot? A special place she might’ve gone to catch bass?” Heather asked. This was it. If Mudd didn’t know, she’d have to go back to Ryan and tell him that they’d have to search up and down the river bank instead.

  “Nope,” the store owner replied, paging again. “Nothin’ like that. We never talked about personal stuff.”

  “Oh,” Heather replied, then sighed. “All right then, thanks for your time.” She turned to leave, heart leaden in her chest. That was a real pity. She’d kinda become accustomed to riding in on her shining horse to solve the mystery.

  The Taser was her sword.

  Dave could be the noble steed, and Amy, the squire.

  Heather walked to the front door.

  “But now that you mention it, I remember Pops c
omin’ in here to buy fishing line a couple of months back. He was all excited about goin’ fishing along South Bosque,” Mudd said, then yawned lazily. “I rented him a couple of Jammy Jostlers for the trip.”

  “Jammy Jostlers.” Heather turned back to him again.

  “Best lures in the state. Very exclusive. I’m the only one who’s got them in stock,” Mudd said, proudly.

  “Do you know where he went?” Heather asked. “The exact location, I mean.”

  “I dunno about exact, but I can draw you a map. He got a cabin up there, bout an hour’s drive, that way,” Mudd said, pointing with the end of a pen. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

  Heather hurried to the counter, and Mudd drew up a map on a scrap of paper, going over the directions, carefully, so she wouldn’t get lost.

  “Thank you,” Heather said, folding the map up and slipping it into the pocket of her jeans. “Thanks a lot, Mudd, free donuts for the next week for you.”

  “Yeah, baby!” He fisted the air and grinned from ear-to-ear. “Any time you need help, you come right to me, Mrs. Shepherd. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Good. Y’all be careful out there,” Mudd said, returning to his magazine.

  Heather strode to the door. “We’ll do our best,” she said, then let herself out into the hazy, Hillside afternoon.

  Chapter 16

  “It’s getting dark,” Amy said, clasping Dave to her chest and stroking his fur. The dog whined every few steps, even though he didn’t have to do any of the walking.

  “You’re never satisfied, Dave. Tell you what, I’ll let you have a donut when we get home, if you keep it down out here.”

  Dave twitched his ears at that and cut the whining, immediately.

  They strode between the trees in the forest, the gentle chirps of birds and the rush of water leading them on.

  “I know,” Heather replied, “But we’re almost there. All we have to do is follow this map.” She gestured with the piece of paper, then squinted down at it.

  “I assume you mean the scribbles on the back of that bit of newspaper,” Amy replied.