Scary Sweets

by Jessica Beck

  The tinted icings were all quite vivid, but she grabbed the white first. After grabbing a small round donut hole, Emma made a perfect little white circle on one side of it. Setting that piping bag aside, she grabbed another and filled it with the blue icing. Within the white circle, she made a smaller blue one, and by the time she was ready for the black icing, I had it ready and handed it to her. It hadn’t been all that difficult following her line of thought. One perfect black dot, the smallest of all, went into the center of the icing, and she held it up for me to see when she had finished.

  It was a perfect confectionary eyeball.

  “We can do green and brown, too,” she said, “and we can sell them for Fright Week.”

  “I love it,” I said as I started laying out more donut holes, ready for the same doctoring. “Shall we do them all?”

  “We’d better leave a few plain for the traditionalists,” Emma said with a grin. “Not everyone might like to eat an eyeball, no matter how tasty it might be.”

  “I suppose. What about the orange and red icings?”

  “I thought the white icing could be fangs on some of the donuts, and red could be blood tipping them,” she said. “Or is that too gruesome?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s make one and see,” I said. Fright Week might not run to its culmination, but if it did, I was going to do my best to get into the spirit of things. It was unfortunate that a man had died in such a public place during the beginning of the festival, but it very well could have been from natural causes. At least I hoped that was what it was. In the meantime, it felt good to get my mind off of finding the body earlier, no matter how gruesome the current task might seem to a casual observer.

  We had great fun decorating donuts in all kinds of different ways, and by the time I was ready to open, our front display looked quite a bit different than I’d originally planned. Gone were the plain donut holes, and in their places were dozens of eyes peering out in sweet splendor. What had once been plain cake donuts had now been transformed into orange and black cats, bats, and cauldrons bubbling over with white icing. There were white icing cobwebs everywhere, and a few filled donuts had been covered with black icing, with only two white dots signifying eyes for those as well. We had to make more tinted icing in the end, but I didn’t mind.

  The only thing left was to stand back and see how folks reacted to what we’d done. As six a.m. approached, opening time for Donut Hearts, Emma said, “That was so much fun, you shouldn’t even pay me for my time.”

  “Of course you’re getting paid. You’ve been on the clock since you showed up,” I said. “Care to make a few more dollars, since you’re already here?” I asked her lightly.

  “I might. What did you have in mind?”

  “You can either help me sell our treats up front, or you can do the dishes,” I said with a grin.

  “Any chance I can do a little of both?” she asked. “I’ll do dishes before the kids start showing up, and then I’ll work out here with you a bit so I can see their reactions.”

  “That sounds like a plan to me,” I said. “Thanks for coming in, Emma. Do you have any more ideas?”

  “You’d better believe it,” she said. “How about holding a decorating contest?”

  “We’ve had those before. Sure, why not?” I asked. I’d been hoping for something a little more over the top from her.

  “The thing is, it’s not just for kids this time,” she said with a grin. “We can have different age divisions, just like they do in races. Sure, the kids can enter their own heats, but so can the grownups. Can you imagine the seniors division? It could be a blast.”

  “Max could coordinate it with his group of actors,” I said. My ex-husband, Max, also known as the Great Imposter, was an actor who loved directing stage plays using seniors at the center when he wasn’t working. His twist was that he used productions that sported youth-based themes, which were always a hit with the community. Seeing geriatric Romeos and Juliets was a real hoot, especially when they were played straight, which they always were.

  “We could do one division per day, leading up to Halloween,” Emma said. “I’ll get started on the posters. What should the prizes be? I know money’s kind of tight right now, so it needs to be something else.”

  “Money’s always tight,” I said with a smile. “But I’ve got something better than that.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “We feature the winner of each division, along with their photograph, in the window, and besides that, they get a free donut a week for all of November. To top it off, the grand prize winner gets a donut a week for the entire year. How’s that for incentive?”

  “I love it,” she said.

  “Then get started on it and set your PR machine loose on it,” I said as I rearranged a few eyeballs before we opened.

  “You know that Dad will be happy to advertise it for free,” Emma said. I’d forgotten all about her father for a moment. Ray Blake owned the town’s only local newspaper, and it staggered the imagination when I wondered how he’d cover my earlier discovery.

  One thing was sure.

  It would be sensationalized beyond recognition, if Ray had anything to say about it.

  After Emma disappeared in back, I was almost ready to open the shop for the day when I heard a tap on the front door.

  Chief Grant had finally made his way down to my shop, and just in time, too.

  It appeared that the two of us were going to have a little chat about what, or more importantly who, I’d found earlier and what it might mean to Fright Week and our sleepy little town.

  CHAPTER 2

  “What happened to him?” I asked before the chief could even say a word.

  “I’m still not sure,” Chief Grant said as he took a seat at the counter. “Is the coffee fresh, by any chance?”

  “Coming right up,” I said. “Would you like a donut to go with that?”

  “I’d better not,” the chief said as he patted his stomach. “I’m learning that this job has a tendency to add the pounds, you know? Sitting behind a desk makes it tough for me to get much exercise.”

  “I can imagine,” I said. “I’m on my feet all day, so at least I don’t have that problem.”

  After the chief had taken a few sips of coffee, he said, “Excellent. That’s better. Thanks.”

  “So, what happened to that man? Did he die of natural causes, or did someone murder him?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” he said with a sigh.

  “Seriously?” I’d known the chief since he’d first joined the force, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so stymied by something.

  “Suzanne, I’m not a doctor or a coroner. I’m just a cop. If there are obvious signs of trauma, I’m pretty good at being able to tell how someone died, but I’m going to have to leave this one to the experts. It could have been natural causes, or it might just have been something else.”

  “That covers just about the entire spectrum, doesn’t it?” I asked as Emma started to poke her head out of the kitchen. When she saw the police chief sitting at the counter, she quickly ducked back inside, though I knew I’d be getting questions from her later.

  “I suppose it does.” He glanced at the display racks, looked away for a second, and then he looked back at them. “Are those eyeballs?”

  “That’s what we were going for. Why? Do you like them?”

  He grinned at me. “Yeah, those are pretty sweet. Give me a blue one, would you?”

  I served him the donut hole he’d requested, and he ate it with relish, but only after admiring it a little longer close up. “Those are really clever.”

  “I don’t deserve the credit. It was all Emma’s idea,” I said.

  “I’m sure you had a hand in it, too.”

  “Chief, is Fright Week going to be cancelled?” I asked him as I topped off his coffee.

  “Apparently not,” the chief said with a frown. “I tried to get the mayor to shut the entire thing down just in case
this turns out to be homicide, but he wouldn’t hear of it. If it was murder, it’s going to be a nightmare with all of the visitors slated to come. The truth is, since Cassandra came to town, he’s not as measured as he used to be.”

  That was true enough, at least in my opinion, but I didn’t think it was always necessarily a bad thing. Cassandra had somehow managed to get our grumpy mayor to loosen up and smile every now and then, and as far as I was concerned, that was all right with me. “Does that mean that you’re not treating the dunking booth like a crime scene? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m doing everything in my power to secure things, just in case. We drained the water, we took samples to be analyzed, and I even had someone check the wiring on the lights in case he was electrocuted. I did a quick search of his body. The man was as hairy as a bear, and if there was any evidence on his body, I couldn’t find it. There was no sign of blunt force trauma, or any other cause of death as far as I could see. I’ve impounded the dunking booth just in case, and the company that provided it will have another one here by lunchtime. Evidently the town has a great deal of its liquid funds tied up in this festival, so the show must go on.”

  “Did George actually say that?” I asked him skeptically.

  “No, that was Cassandra’s take on it. The mayor brought her with him to the clock for my report, if you can believe that.”

  It was apparent that the chief didn’t like the mayor’s new girlfriend. If Chief Grant felt that she was interfering with his ability to do his job, I couldn’t say that I blamed him, but Cassandra hadn’t really been in town long enough to make waves.

  “Do you at least know who the man was?” I asked him.

  “I’m sorry to say that I don’t. His prints don’t show up on any of our databases, so that means that he’s never been arrested, served in the military, or been in government service,” the chief said.

  “I’ve never been any of those things, either,” I said gently.

  “Neither have a ton of other people. It’s just making him hard to identify.”

  “Didn’t he carry a wallet on him? It’s hard to imagine someone leaving the house without some kind of identification or credit card on them in this day and age.”

  “His pockets were empty, all except for a smooth little rock the size of your thumb.”

  “Odd,” I said. “Were there any clues in his clothing?”

  “The labels had all been cut out of them a long time ago,” the police chief said. “We’re working on it, but this one’s going to take some time.”

  “I’m sorry. You must be frustrated on all kinds of levels.”

  “It seems to be part of my job most days,” Chief Grant said as he pushed the empty cup away. “That was a mighty fine donut hole. The icing was a particularly nice touch.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I said. “Keep me posted, okay?”

  “I will if I can,” he said. “Suzanne, you’re not going to dig into this too, are you?”

  I shook my head. “No, sir; not me. I’m smart enough to know that I’m way over my head with this one. It sounds as though it’s going to take all of your resources to figure this one out.”

  He seemed mollified by my statement. “Okay then.”

  I suddenly had second thoughts about what I’d just said. “Chief, I reserve the right to change my mind at any time. You realize that, don’t you?” I added a grin to take some of the edge off my disclaimer.

  After shoving some money at me across the counter, the chief stood and smiled as he admired our other offerings in the case. “I’ve known you a long time, Suzanne. I would be shocked if you didn’t dig into this at one point, so don’t feel like you’re disappointing me.” He pointed to the decorated donut holes one last time as he added, “I really do like these a lot.”

  “I’ll be sure and tell Emma,” I said.

  After the police chief was gone, my assistant came out and smiled. “Did I just spot our police chief eating one of our donut creations?”

  “He said to tell you they were great,” I said. “You could have come out and spoken with him yourself, you know.”

  “I would have, but you two looked as though you were having a serious conversation.”

  I’d debated telling Emma about the man I’d found on the dunking-booth platform when she’d first come in, but something had made me hesitate. If I didn’t do it right now, I knew that it might cause problems later. “Emma, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “I’m listening,” she said absently. She was a little distracted as she tried to right a donut-hole eyeball that had slipped out of alignment with the others.

  “I found a dead man perched on the dunking-booth bench this morning on my break.”

  Emma looked at me curiously for a moment to see if I was joking, but when she realized that I wasn’t, she frowned at me. “And you’re just telling me this now why, exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. You were so happy when you came in, I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the mood,” I said, which was at least partially true.

  “I get that. Plus, you didn’t want me calling my dad right away. I understand. You didn’t want him to print what you’d uncovered in tomorrow’s newspaper.”

  “Emma, there’s nothing to print just yet beside the fact that I found a body. The police chief doesn’t even know if he died of natural causes or if he was murdered. Shoot, he hasn’t even been able to identify the body yet.”

  “Are you saying that you didn’t recognize him?” she asked me.

  “No, I’ve never seen him before in my life.”

  After a moment, she asked me timidly, “If it’s going to be a problem I won’t do it, but do you mind if I call my dad?”

  “I don’t mind a bit, but I don’t know what you can tell him. At this point, nobody knows anything about what happened this morning.”

  “That’s what Dad’s going to run with, unless I miss my guess,” she said. “Mystery Man Dies Under Extraordinary Circumstances. Doesn’t that sound like one of his headlines to you?”

  “Are you sure you haven’t been writing them for him?” I asked her with a slight smile. “It sounds exactly like one of his banners.”

  “No, they’re all his, but he’s got a certain distinctive style, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I would wholeheartedly agree with that,” I said, trying to be as diplomatic as I could.

  Emma took out her phone and called him on the spot. After a few moments, she said, “No. No. I’ll ask her, but I’m already telling you that the answer is no.” Putting her phone to her shoulder, Emma asked me, “You wouldn’t care to give a firsthand account of what you saw this morning to the newspaper editor, would you?”

  “No comment,” I said with a grin.

  “That’s what I told him you’d say, but hey, at least I tried,” Emma replied, smiling right back at me. “She said no comment, Dad. Yep. That’s it.”

  Before she could hang up, I said, “Emma. One second.”

  “Hang on, Dad,” she said to him before turning to me. “What’s up?”

  “Have him ask the chief for a photo of the dead man’s face. If he runs it in the paper, maybe someone will recognize him.”

  “Do you think the chief would ever let that happen?” Emma asked me.

  I had a hunch Chief Grant would take every bit of help he could get, even from Ray Blake. “The way I see it, what could it hurt to ask?”

  After my assistant gave Ray my suggestion, she said, “Okay. I’ve got to go. Love you, too, Dad. Bye.”

  After Emma hung up, I said, “Thanks for looking out for me with your father.”

  “Always,” she said. “And thank you for giving Dad the idea of running a photo of the dead man.”

  I wasn’t about to tell her that I had ulterior motives. “Happy to help.”

  Emma scanned the display cases and smiled. “I can’t wait to see how everybody else reacts to these treats.”

  “Stick around,” I said as I
pointed to a few people milling around outside waiting for me to officially open the shop for the day.

  “Okay,” she said with a grin. “Maybe we should decorate the window too since we’re getting into the spirit of Fright Week. I still have some of that special glass paint left over from Christmas.”

  As I went to let our waiting customers in, I said, “I don’t think red and green will match our motif, do you?”

  “Oh, we’ve got all kinds of colors in the kit to cover all of the major holidays,” she said. “I think there are even a few stencils in there, too. I seem to remember a spider and some webbing and a jack o’lantern.”

  “Why not?” I asked with a shrug. In for a penny, in for a pound, after all. “Go ahead and get started.”

  “Excellent. This is going to be fun,” she said with glee. Emma believed that if something was worth doing, it was worth overdoing, and her enthusiasm was catching.

  I opened the door and stood aside as three of my regular customers walked inside.

  Their reactions to our decorating were mixed, but I was fine with that. I’d learned a long time ago that it was impossible to please everyone. That was why if I liked something, and Emma didn’t show a strong disapproval of the idea, I usually just went ahead and did whatever I fancied. It made life a lot more fun than doing everything by committee and hoping not to offend anyone as my main objective in life. After all, no one opens a donut shop for the money. If you can’t enjoy the process, there’s no reason to get out of bed in the morning.

  I certainly wasn’t expecting my next visitor to the donut shop after the first crowd left, at least not in the state he was in. “It’s not raining out, is it, Jake?” I asked my husband as he walked into Donut Hearts. His hair was wet, as well as his shirt and quite a bit of his pants.

  “First of all, don’t panic, Suzanne. I’ve got everything under control,” he said as he held his hands out toward me.

  “Okay, now I’m officially worried,” I said. “What’s going on?”