Raspberry Coulis Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy - Book 38 (Donut Hole Cozy Mystery)

by Susan Gillard

  Thunder rolled in the gray sky outside, and the first patter of rain drops hit the window.

  “Let’s talk about it,” Ames said.

  Heather met her bestie’s gaze. “I’m assuming you don’t mean the filing system.”

  “Come on, Heather, we’ve got to figure this one out.” Ames brushed the smooth wood of her desk. “We’ve had nothing but trouble this week. Trouble and distractions. You know this is what Kate wants.”

  “What?”

  “She wants to destroy you. People still come to Donut Delights because they love your product and maybe even because they want to catch a glimpse of the infamous Heather Shepherd.”

  Heather winced and dropped her gaze to the keyboard on top of her weekly planner.

  “It’s the truth. But Kate doesn’t care that your business is okay. She wants to hurt you, personally. And what’s the best way to do that?”

  “Destroy my credibility as an investigator,” Heather said.

  “Right. She can’t destroy your credibility as a baker, because everyone can taste how could your product is,” Amy said. “She knows this will get to you. Don’t let it.”

  Heather took a breath and steeled herself. “You’re absolutely right, of course. I’m not going to let Laverne’s tactics get to me.”

  “All right,” Amy said. “So let’s talk about what you’ve got for this one.”

  Heather rolled her leather office chair back a bit and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Carla has the most motive here. She inherited the stolen cash. The same cash which Gene Clemens traveled down here to collect. We spotted them together so it follows there might be something going on there.”

  “Except there’s no physical evidence linking Carla to the crime except for one eye witness who saw them arguing minutes before it happened,” Amy said.

  “Right. This seems so simple, like the answer should fall right into our laps, but it’s not. We can’t place Carla in that kitchen without fingerprints or DNA.”

  “I don’t understand why the cops didn’t arrest her,” Amy said.

  “Because they can’t hold her for more than 24 hours, 96 with an application, without charging her for the murder. And the case just isn’t strong enough against her yet. If I could somehow place her in that kitchen at the exact time of Guidi’s death, all of this would be water under the bridge.”

  Amy tapped her lip. “Okay, so we have to place Carla in the kitchen. We can’t put Gene there.”

  “Or we have to find evidence that Gene wanted Carle to murder her husband.”

  Heather sat bolt upright. “Wait one hot donut-lickin’ second,” she said. “Oh gosh. What was it?” She scrambled for her tablet.

  “What? What have you realized?”

  “Charlie. Waiter Charlie,” Heather said. She unlocked her Lenovo’s screen and tapped through to her Evernote App. She clicked on the note which bore Charlie’s name. “Here it is.”

  “What is it? Don’t leave me in the dark here.”

  “Charlie said that Carla argued with Guidi about money in the kitchen. She mentioned something along the lines of ‘paying him.’ Now, what do you think that means?”

  “She’s talking about Gene Clemens,” Heather said. She lurched out of her chair, fingertips white from the pressure of holding the tablet. “We need to confirm this. I’ve got to talk to Charlie again.”

  Chapter 16

  Charlie perched on the edge of his cushioned seat in Donut Delights and grinned at the donut on his plate. “This looks so good. I love donuts. And you know, it’s surprisingly difficult to get a good donut these days.”

  “Thanks a lot for coming to speak with me, Charlie,” Heather said.

  The waiter from Bella Vita gave her a double thumbs up, but didn’t switch his focus from the donut. “Anything to help out. Oh, and for a donut.” He giggled and picked up his treat.

  “I know we’ve been over this before, but I need your help with something. When you walked in on Carla Guidi yelling at Filippo, what exactly did she say?” Heather asked.

  Charlie paused with the donut halfway to his mouth. He gulped and put it down on his plate. “She screamed that Filippo should pay the man.”

  “Which man?”

  “You know what? I think I’m full. I’m just going to save this for later,” he said, then checked his wristwatch. “Man, I forgot I had a job interview at another restaurant in fifteen minutes. I should really get going or –”

  “Charlie, please,” Heather said, and balled her hands into fists in her lap. “I need your help. I can’t solve this murder on my own. I know you were loyal to the Guidis, but doesn’t that loyalty stretch to Filippo Guidi too?”

  “Filippo was a creep,” Charlie whispered, and his face folded in on itself.

  “What?” But Charlie had told her that Filippo had been great in their first interview. That he’d give everyone opportunities.

  Arlo hadn’t agreed on that point.

  “You heard me,” the waiter replied. “He was a terrible human being.” He pushed his glasses up the crooked bridge of his nose and they slid back down to the tip again.

  “But you told me he gave you a chance,” Heather replied.

  Charlie squeezed his eyes hut and jammed his lips into a long, thin line. A beat passed.

  The talk from the customers around them, the clink of plates and a burst of laughter from the corner – it did nothing to assuage the anxiety which bubbled in the pit of Heather’s stomach.

  Her sleuthin’ sense tingled on repeat. She’d missed something when she’d interviewed Charlie. Something big. And now, she was about to find out exactly what that was.

  Charlie’s eyes snapped open. “Carla gave me a chance. Carla made sure that I got paid for the first few weeks I was there.”

  “Was she talking about you in the kitchen?” Heather asked.

  “No. She wasn’t talking about me.”

  “Gene Clemens,” Heather muttered.

  “No,” Charlie repeated, not him either. “She was talking about her brother, Arlo.”

  Heather pushed her back against the wrought iron back of her chair. “You’re kidding.”

  “Arlo helped build that restaurant from the ground up. He did everything while Guidi cooked. He managed the floor. He acted as a waiter, a bartender. You name it, he did it, but Guidi refused to pay him.”

  “Why? Why would he do that?”

  Charlie’s lips whitened around the edges. “Because he thought Arlo owed him. He believed that family should work for free and that was that.”

  Heather couldn’t attest to the character of the deceased, but man, the guy sounded like an abusive moron.

  He’d been verbally abusive toward his wife, he’d strangled Arlo and then refused to –

  “Arlo,” Heather said. “Arlo.” That made sense. Pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Arlo had mentioned Francesca and money at the memorial service. He’d confronted Carla.

  Carla had been resistant.

  “Arlo.”

  “Uh? Are you okay? You’re just kinda repeating the same thing over and over again.”

  “Charlie, did Arlo stop working at Bella Vita?” Heather asked, and reached into the front pouch of her apron for her cell phone.

  “Yeah. One day, Arlo came in and got into a fight with the Chef. I think it was about money too. He kept screaming that he couldn’t go on like this and that Guidi was a thief. He’d stolen his money,” Charlie said.

  “Then what happened?” She squished the screen of her cell against her palm.

  “There was a fight.”

  “A physical fight?”

  “Yeah.” Charlie grimaced and shifted his plate closer. “Guidi attacked Arlo because of what he’d said. He tried to strangle him. Carla freaked out and ran into the dining area in front of all the customers.”

  “Oh boy.”

  “Yeah. She begged me for help,” Charlie said. “I dropped everything and ran in and, oh man, it was horrible.”
>
  “What did you see?” Heather asked.

  “Guidi was on top of Arlo, his hands around his throat and Arlo was almost blue in the face. I had to pull the chef off his brother-in-law. If I hadn’t, it might’ve been Arlo’s body in the kitchen instead of Chef Guidi’s.” Charlie snapped his mouth shut.

  This was the revelation Heather had sought all along. She’d been desperate for a link between Carla and Gene Clemens when she didn’t need one.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Heather asked.

  “I wanted to protect Carla,” Charlie replied. “She’s been through so much and so have the kids in the family. I just wanted everything to be fine. But after the way she treated you at the memorial service… look, Carla’s not the one you’re looking for. Arlo is.”

  Heather’s throat closed. She’d already figured it out but the admission from the waiter blindsided her. Usually, people weren’t this open with her about suspects. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he was there too. He was with Carla in the kitchen, threatening Guidi to pay up, too.” Charlie bowed his head and looked at the donut instead of Heather. “And he had a knife.”

  “You’ll have to testify about this in court,” Heather said. “And it will be a miracle if you don’t get charged for obstruction of justice. You really should’ve told me all of this in the beginning.”

  “I know,” he said. “I just wanted to do the right thing, and at the time, it seemed like anything that protected people from Filippo Guidi was the right thing. I’m sorry.”

  Heather swiped her thumb across her screen and clicked through to her contacts. “Enjoy your donut, Charlie. It’s on the house. I’ve got to make a call.”

  Charlie didn’t reply and he didn’t pick up the Raspberry Coulis Donut either.

  Chapter 17

  Arlo Orlando sat in his armchair with his hands on his knees and nodded to Heather and then Ryan. “I know why you’re here. Charlie called me and told me what he saw and that he was going to tell you about the knife.”

  “Why?” Heather asked. “Why did you do it? Because he hurt you? Because he refused to pay?”

  “No,” Arlo said. “Though, I think a lot of people would’ve used that as a motivation to kill the man.”

  Ryan clasped his hands together and balanced his forearms on his thighs, his shoes polished to perfection and providing a sharp contract to the dingy carpet beneath his soles. “Walk us through that day, Mr. Orlando.”

  “We went to speak to Guidi because it was a Monday afternoon and it’s usually quiet on a Monday. The night before, Filippo had threatened to murder Carla behind closed doors and I couldn’t handle it anymore.” Arlo’s brow wrinkled up. “I was tired of the threats and the lack of payment.”

  “So you went to talk to him,” Heather prompted.

  “Yeah. We went to talk to him. An argument broke out and Carla screamed at Chef that he had to pay me or she’d speak to a lawyer. I think that was when Charlie came in. He spiked an order and left real quick. I didn’t realize he’d seen the knife in my hand until he called and told me so.”

  Ryan gestured for Arlo to continue.

  “Chef ignored Carla as he did most of the time and started making milkshakes. He only shouted at Carla when she got really out of hand, otherwise his comments and abuse consisted of passive aggressive taunts and whispered insults,” he said. “It was like he didn’t think Carla was worth the trouble.”

  “But he thought you were,” Heather said, with certainty.

  “That’s right. Whenever I spoke, Filippo flipped out. I think he saw me as an equal in a weird way but only because I’m a man. He was like that. He didn’t think Carla’s opinion mattered because she was the mother of their children,” Arlo said, and shook his head. “I’ll never understand that logic.”

  Heather couldn’t help but agree. She didn’t want to like Arlo and think kindly of him in the middle of a murder confession, but the man seemed honest.

  “What happened next?”

  “Chef made his milkshakes and we didn’t leave. Carla continued screaming, and then Chef threw an insult at her. He called her worthless and a doormat. That was when I stepped in.”

  Heather tensed.

  “The minute I opened my mouth Guidi picked up a kitchen knife and came at me. He slashed it through the air. It happened so fast.”

  “Did he get you?” Ryan asked, eyes brighter than they should’ve been.

  Arlo rolled back the sleeve of his coat and shirt and showed them a gash on his right arm, shoddily patched up with what looked like fishing line. “Cleaned and stitched it myself. I figured I’d die of gangrene before you guys found me,” he joked.

  “So he attacked you.”

  “I blocked with my right arm and he got me. Then I stabbed him. I don’t know why I did it. It was just a reaction. The pain and then I lashed out,” Arlo said, and swallowed reflexively. “Oh gosh. I can’t believe I did that.”

  “And then you panicked.”

  Arlo’s eyes glazed over. “Gosh, he hit the floor like a sack of bricks. The whole room shuddered. Carla grabbed the knife with a paper towel and wiped the blade down. She put the tissue in her pocket, then dragged me away.”

  “And the murder weapon?”

  “I tossed it in a trash can downtown. Wiped it down,” Arlo said. “I panicked. It was self-defense but after Charlie had witnessed our previous fight I figured nobody would believe me. The public saw the good side of Guidi. They saw me as the washed up single dad with a kid who can’t even afford school books.”

  “The money for Francesca?” Heather asked, and sorrow panged in her chest.

  Arlo sniffed and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Yeah, I’ve been alone a long darn time and, uh, yeah, I look after my kid as best I can. I don’t have qualifications. I worked plenty of jobs, but the cost of living is high right now, and all I needed was for Guidi to pay his dues so I could buy her the things she needs for school.”

  Heather rose from her seat. She didn’t need to see what would happen next.

  “Mr. Orlando,” Ryan said. “I’m going to have to take you in and a court of law will determine whether this was self-defense or not. Given that there are multiple witnesses and you have physical evidence to back up your claims, you should succeed.”

  “But I should’ve come forward sooner,” Arlo said.

  “Yeah, you should have.”

  “What about my baby? What about Fran?” Arlo asked.

  “She’ll be in foster care until you’re free to look after her,” Ryan said.

  Heather walked to the door and tears streamed down her cheeks. This was the last thing she’d expected. Another family ruined by money and murder.

  Hopefully, Arlo would pull back from this.

  “Okay,” he said, between sobs. “I’m ready.”

  Chapter 18

  “He’ll be fine,” Ryan said, and took a bite of his Raspberry Coulis Donut. A little jelly splooshed out of the end of the donut and plopped onto his plate. “It’s a clear cut case of self-defense. With a good lawyer, he’ll be out in no time.”

  “I just don’t want to see another family wrecked, a life ruined, because of one of my investigations,” Heather said, and her gaze danced toward Lilly.

  She sat across from Heather in Donut Delights, a cup of Col Owen’s green tea in front of her and a donut on her plate. The two of them giggled and chatted over Lilly’s typewriter.

  Heather had organized the Sunday tea to bring everything back down to Earth after a super tough week.

  Ames and Jamie sat at the table next to Eva’s, their fingers intertwined beneath the table. They spoke softly to one another, their gazes light and sweet. The first touch of a new romance.

  Heather loved that her bestie had that in her life, now.

  “Everything will be fine,” Ryan said. “I promise. I’ve been telling you that all week. I hoped you’d believe me by now.”

  “I
do. It’s just been rough.”

  A knock rattled the glass front door. Col Owen and his fiancé, Mona, strode into the store, carrying bottles of iced tea. “Sorry we’re late,” Col said. “We had to lock up the store. Some darn kids keep trying to break in.”

  Mona pursed her full lips. “We can’t figure out what they want.”

  “It’s the tea,” Ryan said. “It’s a gateway drink. The minute they get a sip of that cool green tea, they’ve got to taste the Chai, the Earl Grey, and the Ceylon.”

  “You forgot Rooibos,” Col replied.

  The pair pulled up a chair each and sat down at Ryan and Heather’s table.

  “How are you feeling?” Mona asked, and tapped Heather’s arm. “I understand you’ve had a terrible week.”

  “I’ll live. There are worse things than bad reporting in this world.” Like losing a family member. Once again, Heather glanced at her daughter.

  This time Lilly met her gaze and grinned at her, fingers on the typewriter’s keys.

  Everything had turned out just –

  Crash!

  The bell above the front door tinkled like mad.

  Kelly Lemon stood framed in the Sunday afternoon light, clad in his trench coat and fedora.

  “What are you doing here?” Eva asked, and puffed her cheeks out.

  Amy rose from her seat, fingertips pressed to the glass tabletop.

  “Mrs. Shepherd,” Lemon announced, as if he’d just sentenced her in front of a jury of her peers. “Do you have a minute?”

  “Not for you,” Heather said, loudly.

  “Get out.” Amy folded her arms and glared at the so-called reporter.

  “Mrs. Shepherd, how do you feel knowing that you sent a man to jail?” Lemon asked, and whipped his pen out from behind his ear. The notepad materialized from inside his coat pocket. “That a young girl will be sent into foster care because –”

  Lilly scraped her chair back across the golden boards.

  Everything froze. Lemon looked at her, though he didn’t realize the gravity of his words. He didn’t have a clue about Lilly’s history.

  “You’re a bully,” she said.