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

by Susan Gillard

  “On what charges?”

  “Theft, fraud,” Ryan said. “White collar stuff. Apparently, he’s been stealing from –”

  “Just Jump It Skydiving,” Heather said.

  “How did you know?”

  “I spoke to Joe Gankin this morning. He knew about this thievery for two weeks before he reported it. And he was super happy about taking his revenge on Henry after his daughter had died.” Heather tapped her pen against her closed notepad.

  “You don’t think –”

  “I can’t draw that kind of conclusion yet, but let’s just say that Gankin certainly hasn’t endeared himself to me. And he hasn’t wiped his name off the suspect slate, either.” Heather sighed and dropped the pen.

  Amy picked up the tinsel’s remains and pinched it between her thumb and forefinger. Squished it into non-existence.

  “Hoskins caught Folger on the way out of town,” Ryan said. “I think he knew what was coming. Maybe Gankin threatened him.”

  “If he did, we’ve got to find out how and when. It could be relevant to Kiki’s murder,” Heather replied.

  Or maybe not. All of this was so confused.

  “All right, love. I just thought I’d let you know,” Ryan replied. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Have a good day,” Heather said, then hung up. She dropped her cell onto the notepad. Boy, what a day. What a week.

  “You look exhausted,” Amy said. “Maybe you should take a break.”

  “Ha, that’s like telling the moon not to shine,” Heather said.

  “You know, the moon only shines because of the sun. And even the sun needs rest,” Ames said and wiggled her eyebrows. “That’s right. I can science.”

  Heather burst out into a slew of chuckles.

  “Come on, Mrs. Shepherd. Let’s get some donuts and listen to some Frank Sinatra. He’s going to do White Christmas in a few songs. You can solve this mystery tomorrow.” Amy got up and revealed the strangled bit of tinsel. She tossed it toward Heather’s trash can.

  It the rim and bounced off. “Ack, close but no donut,” Amy said.

  Heather picked up the tinsel and delivered it to its final resting place. “That’s better,” she said. “Soft touches, Ames, that’s the key.”

  “Uh-huh, whatever you say Inspector Clouseau.”

  Heather linked her arm through her bestie’s and exited the office. The warmth of Donut Delights embraced her. Eva waved from the spot at the front of the store. Lilly perched on the chair opposite her and worked on her homework.

  “See? Everything’s perfect,” Amy said.

  Heather couldn’t disagree with that.

  Chapter 13

  Another early morning in Hillside. Another day closer to her birthday.

  Heather unzipped her coat and let it hang open. He cotton blouse flapped in the swift breeze, but the chill wasn’t as bad for once.

  “You’re crazy,” Amy said and retreated into her puffy coat cocoon. “How are you alive right now?”

  “Don’t be such a drama Queen,” Heather said and patted her on her padded shoulder. “We’ll go inside in a moment.”

  The Folger residence reared in front of them. Magnificent in its plain white coat of paint. Mahogany window frames glared from the face, alongside a matching door, decorated by a golden knocker.

  “Looks to me like the Folgers made a lot of money from skydiving,” Amy whispered.

  “Or stole a lot.” Heather strode up the flat stone pathway to the front stairs, and Amy rushed to keep up, huffing and puffing complaints. Heather traversed the stairs and halted in front of the door.

  She licked her lips and studied the pearlescent button beside the entrance.

  “What’s wrong?” Amy asked.

  “Nothing,” Heather replied. “It’s just, well, these people have had a really rough week. First, Kiki dies, and now Henry’s been arrested. I can’t imagine Helena’s going to be happy to talk about any of this.”

  “You gotta do what you gotta do,” Amy said and pressed the doorbell. “If you don’t get to the bottom of the murder, who will?”

  Footsteps clattered up to the door, heels on tiles, and the lock clicked. The door swung inward, without a sound.

  Helena Folger peered out at them, her eyes rimmed red. “May I help you?” She asked, and sniffed.

  She sure had style. And not the overdone style which some of the other Hillside Socialites touted.

  Helena Folger was understated. She wore a fitted cardigan with a camisole underneath, all in hues of creams. A string of pearls sat at the base of her throat, matched to her earrings.

  “Heather, uh, you’re staring,” Amy said.

  “Right, okay. Hi there, I’m Heather Shepherd,” she said and ignored the heat on her cheeks. “I’m working in conjunction with the Hillside Police Department to solve your daughter’s case.”

  The corners of Helena’s mouth drooped. “Oh,” she whispered, then reached up and patted her honey-gold hair. “All right. I guess that will be fine.”

  “May we come in, Mrs. Folger?” Heather asked.

  The woman stepped back and held the door for them. Amy and Heather exchanged a glance, then took the plunge.

  Heather almost gagged. She barely managed to save herself from it, but the sickly sweetness of rose-scented air freshener mingled with the sharp, bite of ammonia from what had to be a cleaning product was too much for Amy.

  She clapped her hand to her mouth and shuddered.

  Helena Folger trotted past them on kitten heels, oblivious to Amy’s predicament. “We’ll talk in the living room,” she said.

  Heather gathered her senses from the four corners of the carpeted hallway. Amy’s eyes watered, but she swallowed and dropped her hand to her side.

  “What is that?” She hissed, through gritted teeth.

  Heather shook her head. Apparently, someone had a cleaning obsession. There wasn’t a spec of dirt in sight.

  They hurried down the hall and took a left through an open doorway.

  Helena Folger sat on a comfy, leather sofa beneath a window. The rosewood furnishings scattered across the room evoked a sense of comfort, but the smell, gosh, that was nothing but pure nasal pain.

  “Please, take a seat,” Helena said, and gestured to one of the other leathered armchairs.

  Heather sat down on the edge of the chair and did her best to ignore the anxiety which trickled down her spine. This wasn’t her kind of place.

  Amy had gone pale beside her and didn’t take a seat. Apparently, it wasn’t her bestie’s kind of place either.

  “What do you need to know?” Helena asked.

  “We found your fingerprints on the back of Kiki’s parachute pack,” Heather said. “Can you explain that?” She dove right in because the smell had scoured tact from her mind.

  “Well, I noticed that she had a tear and I touched the parachute. I was worried she’d jump with it,” Helena said and sighed. “I guess I just had a bad feeling on the morning of my daughter’s death.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t explain it. Something felt off,” Helena said. “I’m sure you can relate to that on some level. Haven’t you ever gone somewhere or done something and it’s felt strange?” Her gaze danced from Heather to Amy.

  Heather cleared her throat and chased out the shivers. “Did you know your husband had stolen money from Just Jump It Skydiving?” Heather asked.

  “Not until he was arrested,” Helena replied. She ran her fingertips across her wrinkle-free – and most likely botoxed – forehead. “If I’d known I would’ve reported him myself. My husband and I have enjoyed a fruitless marriage.”

  Amy rubbed her upper arms. “Fruitless.”

  “Loveless,” Helena replied.

  For all her class and grace, she had nothing but a void behind her eyes.

  “Mom!” Laura ‘Lollipop’ Folger’s voice screeched from around the corner.

  Amy flinched and yelped in Dave-form.

  Helena Folger exha
led, slowly. “You’ll have to excuse my daughter. She’s always been difficult, but her father’s arrest has made this an especially trying time.”

  “What about her sister’s death?” Amy muttered.

  Laura, the not-so-sweet Lollipop, pranced into the room, cell phone clutched in her hand. “Mom,” she shrieked.

  “Yes, dear?” Helena asked, and touched her pearl necklace.

  “This is all you fault!” Laura yelled. She glanced at Heather and Amy and dismissed them. “Daddy is in jail, and his lawyers keep calling me because you won’t answer your phone.”

  “I have nothing to say to them,” Helena said and shrugged her shoulders. The pearls hopped against her throat. “Your father made his bed, and now he’ll lie in it.”

  “I hate you!” Laura yelled.

  The well put-together wise girl from Donut Delights had disappeared. This kind was rotten to the core. She raised her cellphone then tossed it. The device whistled past Amy’s head, clunked against the wall and split open.

  Amy’s eyes went wide as donut holes.

  “Laura, please,” Helena said. “I have guests.”

  “I don’t care about your stupid guests,” Laura screamed. “And my name is Lollipop!” She turned on her heel and stormed from the living room. Her silky brown hair flowed out behind her like a mane.

  Helena Folger pressed her hands to her eyes and blocked out the world. “I’m afraid now’s not a great time, Mrs. Shepherd. Perhaps we can meet up later?”

  “All right,” Heather said, and barely managed to keep her voice steady. Laura’s outburst had set every nerve in her body jive-and-shake mode. “Have a good afternoon, Mrs. Folger.”

  Not a chance with Laura in the house.

  Chapter 14

  Heather scratched an itch above her right ear and swiveled back and forth on the stool in Donut Delights. “I’m stumped. And kinda freaked out,” she said. Laura’s tantrum had kept her in silence the entire trip back to the store.

  Amy stared at a Peppermint Glazed Donut on a plate in front of her and pressed her lips together. She’d equaled Heather’s quiet time with one of her own.

  “We’ve got fingerprints on the wrong backpack, and all of the perpetrators have a valid excuse for touching it,” Heather said. How was she supposed to get to the bottom of this one when every scrap of evidence was hearsay or ‘he said, she said?’

  “Except for Laura,” Amy whispered, at last.

  “What do you mean?” Heather asked.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but she didn’t give you any reason for touching Kiki’s marked parachute. I mean, she didn’t even tell you that she’d touched it in the first place.” Amy fiddled with the puffy pocket of her coat.

  She hadn’t taken it off, even though they’d arrived back in the store ten minutes ago.

  “Aren’t you boiling in that?” Heather asked.

  “I did something bad,” Amy whispered. She rooted around in her pocket, then brought out a piece of cold, black plastic.

  Heather leaned in. “Ames, is that –?”

  “Laura’s phone,” she said. “It still works. The back just popped off when she threw it.” Amy clicked the screen, and it lit up. “See?”

  “Oh my gosh, Amy, that’s stealing,” Heather hissed.

  “I know, and as soon as we’ve gone through it, I’ll return it. I’ll put it in their mailbox or something. I didn’t take it because I want a phone or something,” Amy replied, and finally stripped off her coat. She let it fall to the floor behind the counter.

  Heather stared at the screen and the background image – Laura Folger in a swimsuit. The girl’s vanity knew no bounds.

  Temptation bubbled around in Heather’s mind. The same type she felt every morning at the first scent of brewed coffee.

  “Fine,” Heather said and took the phone from Amy’s outstretched hand. “Fine, but after this, we’re going to take it back and apologize.”

  Amy paled at the news. Laura Folger probably wouldn’t accept the apology. Maybe, she had a new phone to throw, already. “Heather,” Amy whispered.

  “Fine, we’ll put it in the mailbox, but this still feels wrong.”

  Heather swiped her thumb across the screen, and the device unlocked. She clicked on the menu, then scrolled through the apps.

  “Email, a Yoga app,” Heather said.

  “I wonder if she ever uses that one? She needs it,” Amy grumbled.

  “Uh, what’s this? Whatsapp! This should be interesting,” Heather said. She tapped on the green icon and a list of chats filled her screen. “Boy, she sure was popular.”

  “Wait, wait, there,” Amy said and pointed to a chat, halfway down the screen. “That’s Kiki, isn’t it?”

  Heather tapped on Kiki’s name.

  Messages filled the screen. A conversation between two sisters. Laura’s background was a series of pink swirls, but the anger in her messages glared up at Heather and Ames.

  “You stay away from him or you’ll regret it,” Heather said. That was a message from Laura to Kiki. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s from Kiki, see?”

  “Who are they fighting over?” Amy asked, and glanced up to check for incoming customers.

  Heather scrolled down and halted the screen with a tap of her thumb. She stared at the messages. “Vaughn Josephs,” she whispered. “They’re fighting over Vaughn Josephs.”

  “Ew, that cheesy instructor guy?” Amy asked, and put up a fake smile to mimic Vaughn’s greeting to them.

  “Yeah, that cheesy instructor guy who was supposed to check the spare parachute on the plane before they went up,” Heather said, and locked the phone’s screen. “This is too weird.”

  “Laura and Vaughn were in a relationship?” Amy asked.

  “Maybe not. Maybe Laura just had a crush on him, but it might have been enough to motivate her to hurt her sister. Or do something crazy,” Heather said.

  “She did seem temperamental. And she doesn’t eat carbs. I mean, the lack of donuts must have driven her insane. That’s the only explanation,” Amy replied, and grabbed her peppermint flavored treat.

  She took a massive bite and shut her eyes to enjoy the flavor.

  “I have to speak to Ryan about this. This is the best bit of evidence I’ve gotten, since the start of this case,” she said and scooted off her stool.

  Heather hurried through to her office, and that same anxiety from before tickled through her stomach. Laura and Vaughn. Or was it Kiki and Vaughn?

  Why hadn’t the instructor told them he was in a relationship with either the victim or her sister?

  Heather grabbed her cell phone off the desk, then unlocked the screen and tapped through to her husband’s number.

  She dialed and pressed the phone to her ear.

  “Detective Shepherd,” he said.

  “Hon, it’s me,” Heather replied. “I’ve just come back from Helena Folger’s place.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ryan’s voice carried weariness. The same kind which Heather had draped over her shoulders. “Did you find out anything useful?”

  “I – that’s complicated.”

  “Uh oh, what did you do?”

  “What? Why?” Heather feigned shock.

  “I can hear the guilt in your tone, love. It reminds me of the time you ate the last donut in the fridge. You know, the one you were supposed to save for me?”

  “Hey, that was Dave!” Heather said.

  “Because dogs can open fridges at will.”

  Heather clicked her tongue at her husband. “That’s beside the point, Shepherd. Look, we were at the house and Laura threw an all-out tantrum in front of us and threw her phone and, well, Amy picked it up.”

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

  “We looked through it,” Heather said and buried her guilt deeper. “Hon, Laura had a crush on Vaughn, and she threatened Kiki. Said, she would make Kiki regret going near Vaughn.”

  Silence reigned on the other end of the line, apart from
the ring of a telephone in the police station.

  “Hon?”

  “We can’t use that evidence,” Ryan said. “It’s not permissible in court.”

  “I know, but –”

  “I’m not saying forget you saw it, but you’re going to have to get that information out of Laura Folger in another way. And you need to return that phone, now.” His stern tone injected iron into Heather’s bones.

  “All right,” she said, stiffly. “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Heather,” he said, “you need to be more careful than this. You can’t –”

  “I said I’d figure it out, hon.” She hung up before he could lecture her further.

  Chapter 15

  Heather pressed the pearly button for the doorbell. Amy shrank back a step and puffed up her coat around her blonde, short hair. She’d kept it that way for months now.

  “Heather,” she whispered, and held out the phone in the flat of her palm. “She’s going to lose it when she realizes we took her phone.”

  “Who’s there?” Laura barked from inside the house. “Talk or go away.”

  “It’s Heather Shepherd. We have your phone and wanted to return it you,” she replied.

  Barely two hours had passed since they’d last stood under the decorative eaves of the Folger’s porch.

  The door slammed open, and Laura paced out of her home, brown hair frazzled. What’d happened since they’d left?

  “I got a new phone,” Laura replied, and raised an iPhone. “I only threw that thing to scare my mom. She’s such a pushover.”

  “Well, we came to return it, anyway,” Heather replied, and nudged Amy forward.

  Her bestie foisted the phone on Laura, who grabbed it, then tossed it over her shoulder and into the hall beyond. “I told you,” Lollipop said, “I have a new phone, now. I got it yesterday morning. But, wait a second, how did you get my old one? What do you mean ‘returning’ it?”

  “Abort the mission,” Amy whispered, and backed up a step. “Abort the mission!”

  “We picked it up inside your home,” Heather replied. She wouldn’t throw Amy under the bus on this one. She didn’t like Laura’s attitude one bit. She didn’t scare as easy as her best friend.