Chocolate Frosted Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 5

by Susan Gillard

  "Of course, there will be an autopsy, and they’ll do tests to see if he had any kind of drugs in his system," Ryan said. "That might tell us something."

  "But won't that take a while?" Heather tried a sip of her coffee and found that it was cool enough to drink.

  "True, but there really isn't a faster way to go about it."

  "Do you have any idea who killed him?" she asked.

  "We're following up on some leads. But nothing concrete yet."

  "I can only imagine how his family must feel,” she said.

  "Yeah." For a moment, Ryan was silent. Then he continued, "Listen, I know you have to get to work, and I'm heading home to try and get some sleep before I'm up and at it again. Talk to you later?"

  "Of course," she said. "Call me when you're awake."

  "Will do," he promised. "Good night." Then he hung up.

  Heather took a few more sips of her coffee, then went back to her bedroom to rouse Dave and let him out. While he was outside doing his business, looking a little confused but at least willing to go out, Heather quickly slid her feet into some slip on shoes. She let Dave back in, grabbed her purse, and stepped outside, locking the door behind her.

  The streets were mostly empty, and it only took her a few minutes to drive to Donut Delights. The few cars she passed all had their headlights on, just like she did. Heather wondered where anybody else would be going at this time of morning if they didn't have to be at work.

  She parked in her usual spot behind the shop and noticed that Jung's car was already there. She entered through the back door into the kitchen.

  At the sound of the door opening, Jung poked his head out from the supply room. When he saw Heather, his mouth dropped open. "What are you doing here so early?" he asked.

  "I have bad news," she said. "Maricela and Angelica aren't going to be here this morning. One of their cousins was shot and killed last night."

  "What happened?" Jung asked when he could form the words.

  "Nobody knows yet," she said, deciding to leave out the part about the drugs and the gun. "He was found in the park. Apparently the police are working on some leads, but they don't have anything solid yet."

  "Did you talk to Ryan?"

  "Briefly, while he was on the way home to get some rest. He was up all night."

  "Yeah, I imagine so," Jung said. "I guess Maricela and Angelica probably won't be in for a long time. I don't blame them."

  Heather nodded. "I don't either. I plan to continue paying their salaries until whenever they're able to return."

  Jung nodded. "That's nice of you."

  "We're family," Heather said. "And family does for family."

  ***

  Heather and Jung were kept plenty busy running the shop by themselves on a Saturday morning, Saturday being their busiest day. Much of the time, there was a line several customers deep at the glass display cases. Because Jung was faster than she was at preparing the donuts, Heather remained at the counter serving customers.

  She hadn't yet had a break when her favorite customer, Eva, came in. The petite, elderly woman waited patiently in line, her snow white hair already fixed for the day, her smile in place. Until she reached Heather at the counter, that is. Then her expression became serious. "I noticed that two of your assistants aren't here today," Eva said in a low voice. "Was that their family I read about in the paper?"

  Heather leaned forward so the customer behind Eva, who, fortunately, didn't seem to be paying attention, wouldn't overhear their conversation. "Their cousin Gustavo was shot and killed last night."

  "How awful," Eva said. She stepped to the side. "Why don't you go ahead and help this gentleman? I can wait."

  With a grateful smile, Heather turned to the next customer. "What can I get for you today, sir?" She asked.

  No new customers entered the shop while she was serving him, so when she had rung up the sale and offered him his receipt, she turned again to Eva. "What did the paper say?"

  "Well, it didn't say very much. I guess they didn't have time to gather much information and write the story. It just said he had been killed, and a gun and drugs were found on his body."

  "Oh, no," Heather sighed. "I wish they hadn't put that in there about the gun and the drugs."

  "Why is that?" Eva asked.

  "Because Ryan said that the family denies that he even owned a gun or ever used drugs."

  Eva thought about it so soberly for a moment, then said, "Do you think they're telling the truth?"

  "I think they're telling the truth," Heather said, realizing that she believed exactly that. "Or at least the truth as far as they knew it."

  "No matter what happened," Eva said, "it's still a terrible, tragic loss. My heart goes out to your friends and the whole family."

  "Thank you," Heather said, her throat feeling suddenly thick. She forced her next words out past the lump that had seemingly become lodged there. “What can I get for you today?"

  Chapter 3

  At five minutes after 12, Heather closed and locked the door behind the last customer. She turned their sign to “closed” and lowered the shades in the front windows. "Whew," she said to Jung, who was already starting cleanup. That was one busy day."

  "Yes, it was," Jung said. "But we did it. I do think you should consider hiring someone short-term, though."

  "Oh, I’ve already decided on it," she said. "We can't do this by ourselves every day."

  "If you want, I can ask around and see if I know anyone who would be available for temporary work.”

  "Yes, please do. If they don't know anything about making donuts, they can run the register while you and I make donuts."

  "Okay," Jung said. He slid a pan of doughnuts that had not been purchased out of the cabinet and set it down on the long, stainless steel prep counter. "I was just wondering…do you want to take these to the Reyes family?"

  "That's a great idea," Heather said. "You don't think they'd be insulted, do you, that these are our leftovers?"

  "They wouldn't be insulted," Jung said. "Some of these donuts were made only hours ago."

  "I'll do it, then," she said. "I can just leave them on the porch, or set them down on their kitchen table or something. I don't have to stay and intrude on them in their time of grief."

  At the sound of the back door opening, both of them turned toward the rear of the shop. Maricela entered the kitchen, her face weary. "Maricela, what are you doing here?" Heather asked, surprised. "I mean, of course you're always welcome here, but you're not coming to try and work, are you?"

  "Not today," Maricela said, attempting a smile. It fell short of her usual warm, happy grin. "But I will be back tomorrow."

  "Why so soon? You know I'll cover your salary until you're able to return."

  "You don't have to do that," Maricela said. "I wasn't coming here to ask for that."

  "I know you weren't," Heather assured her. "But it's something I want to do."

  Maricela looked down at the floor, then back up to Heather and Jung. "Can I talk to you about something?" she asked.

  "Of course," Heather said, as Jung cut in with, "I'll finish the cleanup out here. You two go ahead and talk."

  "Thanks, Jung," Heather said. Then, to Maricela, she said, "Want to talk in my office?"

  Maricela nodded. Heather gestured for her to go first, then followed her into the office and shut the door. Maricela had already taken the visitor’s chair, and Heather sat down in her desk chair. "What can I do for you?" she asked, in a tone that made it clear that she really meant it. "Just name it."

  "You can help the police figure out who killed Gustavo," Maricela said.

  Heather hesitated, not sure what to say. She wasn't a professional by any stretch of the imagination. True, she had uncovered a few clues in the past and put a few things together here and there, but she was no more than an amateur. "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

  "Anything you can," Maricela said. "I know you've helped the police in the past, and I know you'v
e done some investigating on your own. I just want — we just want — you to do whatever you can to clear Gustavo's name."

  "'We'?" Heather repeated. "Have you talked to your family about my being involved?"

  Maricela nodded. "Yes, and we all agreed that the more people trying to clear Gustavo's name, the better. He's not what the police think. He's not just some crack head or gang member or something. He's not what they say in the paper."

  "You mean that he wasn't on drugs?"

  "No! He never used drugs. Not once." Maricela hesitated. "I know what you're probably thinking. That we’re either lying or in denial. But we’re not. We don't deny that some people in our family have tried drugs in the past, or even that one person is still using them. We're not saying, ‘not our family.’ We’re just saying ‘not him.’"

  "What about the gun?" Heather asked gently.

  "It wasn't his," Maricela responded immediately. "It couldn't have been. He's never owned a gun. The police have ways of checking things like this. They'll find out that it's not his."

  "Then how did he get it? And if the drugs weren't his either, how did he get them too?"

  "I don't know," Maricela said. "We don't know. That's what we need you to find out. The police aren’t going to do it. They'll just assume Gustavo was another young punk who got what he deserved. But that's not the way it was. And we need you to prove that. Whatever it was that happened, it wasn't Gustavo's fault. He doesn't deserve this, not to get killed, and not for his reputation to be ruined."

  "I'll do what I can," Heather said. "I just don't know how much I can do. I don't want to get your hopes up and then not be able to deliver."

  "We're grateful you're even willing to try. Anything you can do will help."

  "Then do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

  "Ask anything you want," Maricela said.

  "What was Gustavo supposed to be doing last night? I know he was supposed to be at the party, and he was late. Now we know why. But what time was he supposed to get there? What time was he supposed to pick up Tia Teresa's gift, and where from?"

  "It was a painting," Maricela said. "We got everybody together and had our picture taken at one of those places that gives you the pictures in an hour. Then we took it to have it made into a painting. We had left a spot in the middle for Tia Teresa, and the artist was going to paint her into the picture."

  "That's an amazing gift," Heather said.

  "The painting was done, and we just needed to have it framed. But it took the artist longer to paint than he thought, so Gustavo couldn't take it to be framed until yesterday. They were going to do a rush job on it. They told him to pick it up that evening at 6 o'clock. That should've been plenty of time for him to pick it up and get to the house."

  "Where was he picking it up from?"

  "The Kreuger gallery," Maricela said.

  "Isn't that just a block or two from the park?" Heather asked.

  "It's about a block away,” Maricela said. "Apparently Gustavo couldn't find a parking spot right in front. There's never any parking on that street. So he parked his car at the park and walked a block to the shop."

  "So he was on his way to pick it up when he…" Heather let her words trail off.

  "No, he already picked it up. The police found it in the back seat of his car."

  "And he picked it up at six?"

  "Apparently it was more like 7:30. He got to the shop late, and it wasn't ready. The owner said he was very sorry, and he finished it up as soon as he could."

  "And Gustavo didn't call or text anybody to say he be late?"

  "Once, around 6:45, but not after that. Maybe he thought it was going to be ready any minute, so there was no need to call. I don't know. Or maybe he was planning on calling when he was actually on the way with it, since we knew that he went to pick it up."

  "So he picked up the painting and went back to his car," Heather said, making sure she had the details right. "He put the painting in the back seat of his car, shut the door, and then…something happened."

  "The police said that some witness heard the shots and saw a man and a woman running away from the park. Maybe that was who killed him."

  "Maybe so," Heather said. She held Maricela's eyes with her own. "I'm so, so sorry."

  Maricela nodded, her lips clamped together, as if she didn't trust herself to speak. She stood up and picked up her purse. "I need to get back," she said. “The whole family is gathering, and somebody has to fix the food. I can be back to work tomorrow."

  "No," Heather said. "You take this time with your family. Be with them. They need you. Your salary is taken care of until you come back. Don't even think of coming back for awhile."

  "Thank you," Maricela said again.

  Heather noticed the lines in her face and knew that they came not just from sleeplessness, but from grief. Her impulse was to embrace Maricela, but her friend seemed brittle, as if she were just barely holding herself together and any kindness might cause her to fall apart.

  She walked with Maricela to the back door, watched as Maricela got into her car and drove away. Slowly, Heather closed and locked the back door, then went to find Jung.

  She found him wiping down tables in the customer dining area. "I told her not to even think about coming back for a while," she said. “She needs to be with her family now."

  "Yes, she does," Jung said. "You and I can handle it until we find someone to help out temporarily."

  "We'll make it work," Heather said. "You let me know if you hear of anybody who needs a temporary job, and I'll ask around, too."

  "I think I can get someone to run the register tomorrow," Jung said. "Not sure he can do any more than that, but we'll see."

  "Please talk to him for me," Heather said. "If he is available, have him be here at 5."

  "I'll let you know," Jung said.

  "One more question?" Heather asked.

  "You can ask anything," said Jung.

  "What time do you usually go to bed at night when you have to work the next day?" Heather asked.

  "About 8 p.m.," Jung said. "Have to get all my partying done before then."

  "Yeah," Heather said, "I'm beginning to see why." She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to stifle a huge yawn. "Looks like we're almost done here."

  "You go on home," Jung said. "There's not that much left to do."

  "You don't have to tell me twice," Heather said, grabbing the boxes of doughnuts. "Thanks so much. I'll just run these out to the Reyes house. See you in the morning."

  Chapter 4

  Heather pulled into the driveway of Tia Teresa's home, behind four other cars. More cars were parked along the street. Heather didn't see anyone outside, and she didn't want to intrude on any plans the family might be making or any consolation they might be offering each other. She decided to simply set the boxes on the porch and leave. Maybe she could text Maricela or Angelica and let them know the donuts were there.

  But just as Heather approached the door and leaned down to place the donuts on the porch, the door opened. Maricela stood in the doorway. "Is everything okay?" she asked.

  Heather straightened up and extended the boxes of donuts toward her. "I should have given you these when you were there, but I just wasn't thinking," she said. "I didn't know if you guys could use these. I know they're not much, but…" She shrugged.

  Maricela interrupted her. "They're generous, and you offer them out of love," she said. "Thank you very much. Would you like to come in?"

  "No, thank you," Heather said. "I don't want to intrude. Plus, I need to go home and take a nap." She rushed on, afraid she'd made Maricela feel guilty for not showing up to work. "Everything will be just fine on our end. Please let me know if there's anything I can do."

  At that moment, Angelica joined Maricela in the doorway. "You bring us doughnuts?" She asked. "You no have to do that."

  "I wish I could do more," Heather said.

  "Maricela said you going to find out who killed Gustavo," Angeli
ca said.

  "Well, I'm going to see if there's anything I can find out," Heather said. "I can't promise anything. I wish I could. But I'll do what I can."

  "That's all we ask," Angelica said.

  ***

  When she got home, Heather debated whether she should allow herself a brief nap or not. On the one hand, she was ridiculously tired. On the other hand, she would need to go to bed early that night so she wouldn't feel so miserable when she had to get up early the next morning. Would a brief nap now be what she needed to get her through the day, or would it interfere with her being able to go to sleep at 8?