Peppermint Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 28

by Susan Gillard

  “Anyway,” Heather announced and gestured to the table.

  Laura Folger clicked the designer heels over to the wrought-iron table, then took a seat. She grasped a paper napkin and wiped the patch of glass in front of her, then placed it to one side and rested her elbows on the surface.

  Heather sat down in the chair opposite with considerably less aplomb. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your sister, Miss Folger. I’m determined to figure out who’d want to hurt her.”

  “Many people,” Laura said. “Take your pick. My mother, Joe, Vaughn. They all hated her in their unique ways. I can’t say I blame them. She was a horrible person.” The venomous words didn’t suit her sweet exterior.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She picked fights wherever she went. She was stuck-up. She – she slapped me on several occasions,” Laura said. Gosh, she didn’t even speak like an eighteen-year-old.

  “Why is that?”

  “She was jealous. She said so herself. Furious that I got into Harvard and that she didn’t. In fact, the only person who liked her was our father. She was his favorite.” Laura checked her nails, then brushed off the front of her pale green, cardigan.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Heather replied.

  “It’s all right.” Laura exhaled and put up a sweet smile. “I’m used to that kind of thing.”

  Heather tapped her bottom lip. Shoot, she’d forgotten her notepad and pen in the office. “Were you with her on the plane, before she jumped?”

  “I was,” Laura replied.

  “Did you see anything suspicious?” Heather asked.

  “Well, ugh, that’s complicated. My mom noticed that Kiki had a rip in the material on her parachute, so she had to take it off and put on the spare from the cubby in the plane.” Laura squinted as if trying to recall the events. “Vaughn gave her the chute, and she strapped it on.”

  “Do you know when last the parachute was checked?” Heather asked. “The spare?”

  “Uh, Gankin and Vaughn check the parachutes every week before the skydiving starts. I think they check them in between too,” Laura replied and scratched the side of her nose.

  “Did you see anything else? Anything at all that looked different, or strange?” Heather asked.

  “No. Well, wait. My mom and dad did argue just before we got on the plane, but I don’t think that’s related. They’re usually angry at each other.” Laura sighed at that, a breath laden with disdain.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Folger. I think I have everything I need for now,” she said.

  “Sure,” Laura replied and rose from her seat. She wriggled her nose at the donuts which surrounded her. “Call me anytime.”

  Chapter 7

  Amy snuggled up in her puffy winter jacket and peered out at the patch of grass between the trees, eyes wide. If she hooted, she’d be a dead ringer for an owl, puffed up in the middle of a cold night.

  “How does she do it?” Amy asked, and nodded toward Lilly.

  The young girl frolicked with Dave and Cupcake, both on the ends of their respective leashes, and grinned from ear to ear.

  “Not everyone’s as sensitive to the cold as you are, Ames,” Heather replied. “Although, a couple of coffees wouldn’t go amiss, right about now.”

  The temperature had dropped, sure, and December had officially arrived, but not enough to warrant Amy’s comfy winter coat. She brought that old thing out every year around this time.

  Lilly laughed hysterically.

  “Oh my gosh,” Amy said and pointed.

  Cupcake sat on top of Dave’s back, who stood frozen to the spot. He didn’t wag his tail. He didn’t move a muscle. He stared right ahead, mouth half open and eyes wide as they could go.

  “I think he’s in shock,” Heather said, and mirth tickled her insides. “Look at him. He doesn’t know how to react. Lils, Dave is freaking out.”

  “All right, all right,” Lilly said and picked up Cupcake. The kitten meowed her innocence in the matter, and Dave turned into a wobbly mess of tail wags and whines.

  “Poor guy,” Amy said. “I wonder if he’ll ever get used to having a kitten in the house.”

  “They’re already friendlier than I expected,” Heather said. “They’ll be best buds in no time.”

  Amy snorted in response to that.

  Wind chased the fallen leaves around their patch of the park, and the sun dipped toward the horizon, spreading its familiar orange haze. Time had passed too quickly. Soon, it would be Lilly’s birthday instead of Heather’s.

  Older by the year. Time marched on, but things kept changing, and that made Heather… happy.

  Change wasn’t always bad.

  Kiki Folger probably wouldn’t have agreed with her on that point.

  “You’re thinking about the case again, aren’t you?” Amy asked, and puffy-owl peered at her from within her jacket. Her blonde hair tufted up on the sides to complete the effect.

  “Yeah,” Heather said. “I don’t have all that much evidence yet. We’re still waiting for the fingerprints to come back from Kiki’s parachute. You know, the one we found in the compartment on the plane.”

  “Right. What about the actual parachute she wore?” Amy asked. “Anything on that?”

  “Nope. And no traces of DNA anywhere,” Heather replied. “All we’ve got is a plane full of family members. One instructor and a business owner who, quite frankly, makes my skin want to crawl off my body.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s just got a weird atmosphere,” Heather said. “You know how I am when it comes to that stuff.”

  “Oversensitive?” Amy suggested.

  Heather pinched Amy’s puffy jacket sleeve between two fingers. “You’re one to talk.”

  Amy stuck out her tongue then slipped it back in her mouth and grimaced. “Bad idea. I think I just iced my entire mouth.”

  Heather scratched her chin and kept her gaze on Lils, who’d set to investigating a patch of leaves beneath one of the trees. Dave barked and turned in a circle. Cupcake meowed and sat beside the girl’s right ankle.

  “What did you think of Laura?” Heather asked.

  Amy harrumphed. “Let’s just say. I won’t be calling her over for coffee and donuts anytime soon. Partly because she doesn’t eat carbs. What is it with teenagers these days? For heaven’s sake, apples have carbs. You can’t tell me she doesn’t eat apples.”

  Heather fisted her forehead. “Not what I meant, Ames. What did you think of her with regards to the case?”

  “I thought, well, to be honest, I kinda stared at her the entire time you two were talking, and I got the idea that she put on that confident act. Like it was just on the surface and there was something hiding underneath it.”

  “Not how I would have put it, but yeah, I understand what you mean,” Heather said. “Disingenuous or not, she did give us some information. We need to speak to a lot of suspects, but it interests me that the two people involved in the handling of Kiki’s backpack were her mother and the instructor.”

  “And she said that Kiki didn’t get on with anyone. Right?”

  “You’re such an eavesdropper,” Heather replied, and patted Amy on her forearm. “Yeah, she did say that. Everybody hated Kiki, according to her sister.”

  “The same sister who she slapped on the morning of her death, right?” Amy asked.

  “Right. Motivations abound, but I don’t have enough evidence yet to come to any hard conclusions,” Heather said, then frowned at her bestie.

  Ames stared in the opposite direction, and her pink splotches sat on her usually pale cheeks.

  “What’s up?”

  Amy cleared her throat twice and looked down at the smattering of leaves in front of their bench. “Nothing,” she muttered.

  Heather turned and stifled a giggle.

  Jamie Purdue stood at the other end of the park. His dog tugged on the end of its leash and sniffed around a tree.

  “Go talk to him,�
� Heather said.

  “No way,” Amy replied, and the pink splotches spread. The woman would turn pink as a pomegranate pip at this rate. “I – just, no, Heather. I’m not ready to talk to anyone. I’ve had enough.”

  Heather refocused on Lilly and the two naughtiest animals in Hillside. “All right,” she said. “I understand. We’d better get going anyway. I’ve got a date night in a few hours.”

  “Yeah,” Amy said and clapped her gloved hands. “And the Lilly and I have plans for another movie night.”

  “I don’t think she’ll forgive you if you make her watch anything romance related.” Heather rose from the bench and dusted off her sweater and jeans.

  “Ugh, I guess that means we’re watching Jurassic Park again,” Amy muttered.

  Lilly popped up in front of them, a broad grin on that angelic face. “Jurassic Park!”

  Chapter 8

  Ryan scooched closer to the coffee table on his knees and smiled at Heather by the candlelight. It flickered in their living room, danced off the ceiling and cast their shadows on the walls.

  “Romantic,” Heather said and sighed. She placed her hand on the table, and her husband took it and squeezed.

  “You’re sure? I know it probably would’ve been more romantic to go out and eat, but I thought this would be cozy,” Ryan said and gestured to the fondue pot and the array of meats, cheeses and bits of bread.

  “It’s perfect,” Heather replied. She glanced around the living room and settled on the carpet which poked out from underneath the side of the coffee table. “I need to put up the Christmas decorations soon.”

  “Man, all those lights,” Ryan said and palmed his forehead. “I saw what you’ve got up in the attic, Heather Shepherd, and I’m not impressed.”

  “It’s not that many,” she said and grasped a cushion nearby. She shifted it to her spot, then leaned back on it. “Besides, what’s Christmas without a few lights?”

  “And decorations,” Ryan said.

  “And think about how happy it will make Lilly,” Heather replied.

  “We shouldn’t focus on Christmas now, though. It’s your birthday first.” Ryan grinned at her. He knew just how much she didn’t want a big party or gift for her birthday.

  “Don’t start with me, Detective Shepherd.” She skewered a piece of meat and lowered it into the boiling oil.

  The sizzle and savory scent warmed her from the inside out. Wind whispered around the corners of their home.

  Ryan’s good mood faded. His brow wrinkled, and he brushed at the lines with his fingers. “I got some results back from the parachute today.”

  “Kiki’s?” Heather asked, and drew her plate closer.

  Ryan speared a piece of meat and lowered into the fondue pot. Another sizzle and more delicious scents from their meal. “Yeah. We’ve got a few sets of fingerprints on the pack. Love, are you sure you want to handle this case?”

  “You already sent me a dossier, Ryan. I’m not about to back out now. Why are you so unsure?”

  “Because there are loads of suspects and evidence to filter through. I worry that we won’t finish it by your birthday, and you’ll spend the day mulling over the case instead of enjoying what your friends have planned,” Ryan replied.

  Heather’s tummy sank. “What do they have planned?”

  “I shouldn’t have said that.” Ryan removed both their skewers from the pot and placed them on their plates.

  “Hon, I’m going to work on this case, so you can cut it out and tell me what you found.” Heather Shepherd never backed down from a challenge.

  Unless that challenge was something from that show, Fear Factor. Thank heavens they’d canceled it. Heather had watched it a few times out of sick fascination and been totally nauseated by the cockroach-eating contests.

  “We found three sets of fingerprints. Helena Folger was one. Laura Folger the other, and Vaughn Josephs the third,” Ryan said and raised three fingers. “Those are the only folks who touched Kiki’s backpack.”

  “That doesn’t help us much. Just because they touched the parachute, doesn’t mean they tampered with the one Kiki had on her back when she jumped out of the plane,” Heather said.

  “True.” Ryan bobbed his chin up and down. “But they’re the only leads we’ve got.”

  “Wow, that engenders a lot of confidence in our investigation.” Heather swiped her piece of meat through a mustard sauce, then took it off the end off her skewer with a bit of the bread. “We’ve got to have more than that.”

  “Nothing else,” he said.

  “Well, Laura told me that the only people who handled the parachute were Helena and Vaughn. She excluded herself from the equation,” Heather replied. She took a bite of her makeshift fondue sandwich.

  The tang of mustard and savory of the meat spread on her tongue, complemented by the soft bread.

  “Oh, she did? Maybe I should pay Miss Folger a visit, myself,” Ryan said and copied Heather’s ingenious sandwich composition. He took a bite and groaned appreciation. “Like a mini-steak sandwich,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, Amy doesn’t trust her. But Amy doesn’t trust anyone who refuses a donut in our store.”

  Ryan chuckled, a throaty laugh which he employed whenever Amy, Dave or Cupcakes antics were mentioned.

  “You do that,” Heather said. “I’m going to speak to this instructor guy. I’ve heard a lot about him, but I haven’t met him yet. I need to hear his take on what happened. And find out who checked that spare parachute on the plane.”

  “What gets me is the tiny rip on Kiki’s parachute.” Ryan stabbed another piece of meat and placed his skewer in the pot. “Someone must have cut it. It’s not a tear. It’s a tiny cut.”

  Heather’s eyebrows arched upward. “Perhaps, those fingerprints on Kiki’s pack are relevant, after all.”

  “Whatever the case may be, we’ve got a long week of work ahead of us before this one is solved,” Ryan said, and that worry returned to his expression.

  “Oh relax,” Heather said and flapped her hands at him. “I’ll enjoy my birthday.”

  Ryan grasped her hand again, then lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You’d better. I don’t want anything to ruin your birthday.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Are you kidding?” Ryan shook his head at her. “I think everyone in Hillside is grateful you’re alive, my love.”

  “You forget the murderers we’ve put behind bars.” Heather couldn’t help herself.

  Chapter 9

  Heather bumped the car door closed with her hip. She glanced up at the sunny sky, cloudless for once and blue as a frosted blueberry donut, and shivered. Not a breath of wind, but still, the chilly weather persisted.

  It seemed cooler than usual this year.

  Amy slammed the passenger door shut and narrowed her eyes at the sign attached to the squat building in front of a long field.

  Just Jump It Skydiving didn’t appear any more appealing on a bright and sunny day than it had at the start of a thunderstorm.

  “I can’t believe you wanted me to do this,” Heather said.

  “I still do,” Amy replied. “Just not at this place.” She adjusted her winter trademark puffy coat. “You haven’t lived until you’ve jumped out of a plane with nothing but a parachute strapped to your back. And an instructor.”

  “I am content with not having lived, in that case,’ Heather said. She raised her palm and shielded her eyes from the cold, sun’s glare, then turned on the spot, crunching gravel beneath her flat-heeled boots.

  “So, we’re here to talk to…?”

  “The instructor,” Heather replied. “I need to find out more about what he saw up there and how well he knew Kiki Folger. The more information we get, the better.”

  A figure tracked toward them across the field. A man, judging by the height and gait.

  “Who’s that?” Amy asked, and stepped up beside her bestie. “Is it that Gankin guy?”

  �
�No, he’s short. And chubby,” Heather replied.

  The man hesitated, then hurried toward them. He reached the fence at the end of the field, hopped over and crunched across the gravel. His bleach-blond hair flopped on top of his head, though he’d shaved the sides short.

  He adjusted his coat, which had the Just Jump It Skydiving logo across the breast, and greeted them with an easy smile. “May I help you?”

  “Hi,” Heather said, “I’m looking for a man by the name of Vaughn Josephs. I’m told he’s an instructor here.”

  “Look no further, ladies, your gift has arrived,” Vaughn replied, and turned in a circle. “I’m Vaughn Josephs.” He ran his palm over the top of his blonde coif, then clicked his thumb and forefinger together and pointed at Heather.

  Amy’s jaw dropped. “Oh gosh, I can’t not look at it.”

  Heather’s expression didn’t alter, though it took a lot of willpower to keep it neutral. This guy was… different.

  “What can I do ya for?” Vaughn asked when they didn’t immediately bow in his almighty presence.

  “I’m Heather Shepherd. I’m working on the murder case of Miss Kiki Folger,” she said.

  “You with the cops?” Vaughn asked, though his cheesy grin didn’t slip from his lips.

  “I’m a consultant,” Heather replied. “And I’ve been asked to speak with you about what you witnessed on the morning of her murder.”

  “Murder?” Vaughn asked. “I like Kiki as much as the next person, but I doubt it was murder. This was just some big, horrible mistake.”

  By like, did he mean despised? Because Laura had been very clear about Kiki’s negative attitude toward just about everyone in her life.

  “This was a murder, Mr. Josephs,” Heather said. “And it’s being investigated as such. Would you mind answering a few questions for me?”

  “Sure,” the young guy replied. He had to be in his early twenties, maybe a little older than Kiki had been. He clicked his fingers and pointed, again.

  Amy groaned and rolled her eyes.

  “Did you hand Kiki the spare parachute from the locker on the plane?” Heather asked.