Sinister Sprinkles

by Jessica Beck

  George asked, “You’re not planning to open the donut shop tomorrow, are you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I said. “My Jeep’s got four-wheel-drive, and if I’m not comfortable driving, it’s a short walk to the shop if I cut through the park.”

  “If you can make it through the drifts. You might want to call off work tomorrow. Even if you manage to get there, do you think many folks will be able to come buy your donuts in this weather?”

  “I’ll worry about tomorrow when it gets here. In the meantime, thanks again for the information.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and we hung up.

  “You’ll never believe what the murder weapon was,” I said to Grace.

  “I’m guessing it was something common like a knife,” she answered as she looked out the window at the still falling snow.

  I shook my head. “Somebody used a candy cane to kill Darlene.”

  Grace spun around with a look of incredulity on her face. “How is that possible? They’re not that strong, are they?”

  “It wasn’t a real one made from sugar; it was a display piece with a spike on end from the front of City Hall.”

  “So anyone could have grabbed it,” Grace said. “Even Max.”

  “My ex-husband has many flaws—I’m not trying to say that he doesn’t—but he’s not a killer. Besides, he just got to the fair as I was breaking down the display. There’s no way he could have killed her.”

  Grace frowned, and I could tell she wanted to say something. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.

  After thirty seconds, I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Go ahead,” I said. “There’s something on your mind. What is it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You want to make a comment. So make it.”

  She looked reluctant to speak, then finally said, “Fine, if you must know, it’s pretty clear to me that Max could have killed her.”

  “How is that possible? I just told you, he got to the carnival half an hour after the murder.”

  She frowned. “No, he got to your booth then. Who knows where he was before that? He could have lied to you about just arriving, knowing that you’d give him an alibi. What better witness than someone who’s not your biggest fan? He could have figured the police would be more willing to believe his innocence that way.”

  I started to protest when she held up one hand. “Suzanne, think about it objectively. If you alibi him, folks are going to think it’s true. Nobody expects you to go out of your way to defend your ex-husband, especially when they consider who the victim was. If that’s what he did, it’s pretty brilliant.”

  “I still don’t believe he could do it,” I said.

  “Think about it. Don’t you believe it’s possible that’s why he came to you in the first place?”

  It made more sense than I was willing to admit, but I didn’t know how to rebut her. Could Max have been using me to establish an alibi? If he had, he was being more clever than I’d ever given him credit for. But one question still begged to be answered. Why would Max kill Darlene in the first place? No matter his flaws, I couldn’t see him stabbing her in cold blood.

  Then again, I’d proven over and over again that I didn’t know everything there was to know about my ex-husband.

  PEANUT BUTTER COOKIE KISSES

  This one’s a favorite at my house. They’re especially delicious hot out of the oven, with the chocolate kiss on top still melting!

  INGREDIENTS

  • 1 cup butter or margarine, softened

  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  • 3⁄4 cup brown sugar

  • 3⁄4 cup granulated sugar

  • 2 eggs, beaten

  • 1 cup peanut butter, chunky or smooth

  • 3 cups flour

  • 1⁄8 teaspoon salt

  • 2 teaspoons baking soda

  • Enough Hershey’s Kisses to top each cookie, about 1 bag

  DIRECTIONS

  Cream together the butter, vanilla, brown sugar, and white sugar until thoroughly mixed. Next, add the beaten eggs and peanut butter, mixing well again. In a separate bowl, sift the flour, salt and baking soda together, then add to the wet mix, mixing thoroughly. Pinch the dough off into walnut-sized pieces, then bake on an ungreased cookie sheet for 10 minutes at 375°F. When the cookies are nearly done, pull the sheet out of the oven and place one kiss on top of each cookie, then return to oven to finish baking. Remove and cool on a rack, then enjoy!

  Makes 3-4 dozen cookies

  CHAPTER 3

  At one-thirty the next morning my alarm went off, and I slapped at it before it woke everyone in the house. Grace was in our spare bedroom, and I didn’t want to disturb her sleep, since we’d just gone to bed four hours earlier. I was used to working on short sleep, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with my alarm the next morning.

  I peeked through my curtains and looked outside at the park. The world was covered with snow, but not the white beauty of images reflecting bright morning sunshine. This was a land bathed in shades of gray and blue, lovely in its own right, but with a hint of mystery as well.

  How on earth was I ever going to get to work in this mess? I thought about staying home and going back to bed, but there was too much of the Puritan work ethic in me. What if someone needed one of my warm donuts to start their day, and trudged through the snow to get it, only to find that I hadn’t opened my shop? I knew the odds were probably pretty slim, but I still couldn’t disappoint anyone without at least trying to make it in.

  I got dressed, and as I walked downstairs, I heard my mother’s voice from her doorway. “I thought I heard you rustling around.”

  “Sorry, Momma,” I said, keeping my voice down.

  “You’re not going out in that, are you?”

  “I’m going to try,” I said, wondering about the wisdom of it even as I spoke. I knew that if I waited around and thought about it, I’d never leave. She followed me downstairs, no doubt ready to try to talk me out of it before I got stranded in a snowbank between home and the donut shop.

  Suddenly, we both heard a noise approaching from outside.

  Momma frowned as she said, “That sounds like a motorcycle. I can’t imagine anyone riding one at this time of night, especially in all of this snow.”

  The noise grew louder, and then suddenly stopped right outside our front door. As I reached for the baseball bat we kept in the hall closet, I said, “Momma, go upstairs. I’ll handle this.”

  “Not without me,” she said.

  I started to insist, but from the set of her mouth, I knew there was no way she was going to listen to me. “Fine. But stay back behind me, okay?”

  I flipped the porch light on and looked outside, and suddenly let the bat drop to my side.

  “Who is it?” Momma asked me.

  “It’s George Morris, and he came on a snowmobile.”

  “What’s he doing here?” she asked.

  “Let’s open the door and find out.” I unlocked the door and held it open for him, but George refused to come in.

  “I’ve got snow on my boots and pants. I don’t want to drip on your floor.”

  Momma brushed me aside. “Nonsense. Get in here this instant and I’ll get you a cup of coffee. These hardwood floors are ancient. A little snow isn’t going to hurt them.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble on my account,” George said.

  “It’s on a timer, so it should be ready,” I said. “And Momma’s right. Come in here before you freeze to death.”

  He stomped his boots together out on the porch, then saw that snow was still firmly lodged in them. After taking them off, George came in wearing thick woolen socks.

  “I’ve got to admit that coffee would be nice,” he said.

  As we all went into the kitchen, Momma looked at me and said, “Well, if you’re not going to ask him, I am. What on earth are you doing here in this kind of weather at this time of night?”

&nbs
p; He shrugged. “Suzanne told me yesterday she was going to work no matter what, so I borrowed a snowmobile from a friend so I could give her a ride.”

  Momma beamed. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  He looked uncomfortable about the praise. “It was nothing. It gave me an excuse to get out in the snow and play a little.”

  “I know better than that, George Morris. It was a sweet gesture, but I’m still not sure Suzanne should work today.”

  “Suzanne wants to,” I said, “So Suzanne’s going in.”

  She looked at me oddly. “Since when did you start referring to yourself in the third person?”

  “Since you started talking about me as if I wasn’t even here,” I said, trying to muster a laugh.

  I drank my coffee, then told George, “If the offer’s still open, I’d love a ride.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said as he stood. Before leaving though, George turned to Momma and said, “Thanks for the coffee, ma’am.”

  “Thank you for looking out for my daughter.”

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “Bundle up, dear,” she said.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice, Momma,” I said as I put on my heaviest coat and joined George outside.

  “I’ve never ridden on one of these,” I said as I got on the snowmobile behind George.

  “They’re great fun,” he said. “Just remember to hold on tight.”

  George started the engine, and that was the last bit of conversation between us until we got to Donut Hearts. I was sure we were waking people up all along Springs Drive, but I was determined to enjoy this opportunity. While I did see some lovely scenes along the way, mostly I stared at George’s back, shielding myself from the wind. At least the snow had stopped falling for now.

  There wasn’t another soul out, but that was typical for that time of morning on a weekday even without the snow. As George pulled up in front of the shop, I got off and felt my knees wobbling a little before I managed to right myself.

  “Would you like to come in for more coffee?” I asked, the whine of the engine still whirling in my ears.

  “Thanks, but I have another errand to run before I have to get this back to its owner. If you need me, call, okay?”

  “I will. And George?”

  He turned toward me. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  He tipped his cap to me. “Any time.”

  After he was gone, I walked into the shop, glad that this snowstorm hadn’t affected our power. As I turned on the lights, I hit the power switch on the fryer, checked for messages on my machine, then got to work making donuts for the day. I might end up eating them all if no one showed up, but it felt good making them, and preparing, just in case.

  The phone rang as I was measuring out ingredients for the day’s cake donuts.

  I added a bit of pumpkin to one of the mixes, then answered. “Donut Hearts,” I said, wondering about the caller.

  “Suzanne? You’re actually there?”

  It was Emma Blake, my assistant. “Sure I am. Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “Because there’s like a foot of snow outside,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. You don’t have to come in today,” I said. “I can handle things here myself.”

  She paused, then said, “No, if you’re there, I want to be there, too.” Her voice muffled a little as I heard her say to someone in the room with her, “You were right, she’s working. Now will you just go back to bed, Daddy? What noise? I don’t hear anything. Oh yeah, I hear it now. How should I know what it is?”

  “Emma,” I said, then repeated louder, “Emma. Unless I miss my guess, it’s George Morris. He came to get me on a snowmobile, and I’m willing to bet you are next on his list. You can send him away if you want. I don’t mind, honestly, I don’t.”

  “Are you kidding? And miss a chance to ride on one of those? No way, I’ll be there soon.”

  She was still talking to her father as she hung up, and I wondered if Emma would make it in after all. Her dad ran our local paper, and he was one of the most overprotective men I knew. It was amazing he ever let Emma out of the house, for fear of what lay just outside the front door. I didn’t blame him, though. Working with the news like he did, I knew he probably saw a lot more of the bad of the world than the good in it.

  I’d just finished the first batch of old fashioned donuts when I heard George approach. Taking half a dozen from the rack and throwing them in a box, I put my boots back on and went outside to greet them.

  As Emma got off the snowmobile, she said, “Suzanne, that was the coolest thing. I wanted George to take me around town, but he didn’t want to wake anybody up that he didn’t have to.”

  George smiled. “What can I say? I have to worry about my reputation. What would folks think if they saw me racing all over town with a teenage girl on the back of this thing?”

  Emma kissed him on the cheek. “They’d be jealous,” she said.

  I gave George the box in my hands.

  “What’s this?”

  “Half a dozen old-fashioned donuts, as fresh as you’ll ever get them. Thanks for the taxi service.”

  “With a tip like this, you’re welcome.” I’d never known George to turn down an offer of donuts, and was glad I’d been able to deliver some to him now.

  “I’ll see you two later,” he said.

  After he was gone, Emma and I looked up and down Springs Drive. “You know what? He may be the only customer we have all day,” I said.

  As we walked inside, Emma asked, “Can you believe the mayor loaned out our plows to Charlotte?”

  “I’m willing to bet he’s already regretting it. If I know him, he’ll have them back here working by dawn.”

  Emma smiled. “Then we’d better get busy.”

  “You didn’t have to come in, but I’m really glad you’re here,” I said.

  “There’s no place I’d rather be,” she said as she stifled a yawn. “Well, maybe in a warm bed. Or the Florida Keys. Or even Disney World.”

  “Come on, let’s get busy before you wish your life away,” I said as I led her back into the kitchen.

  I could make donuts by myself, but it was too stressful to do it alone every day. Having Emma there always made things easier, and not just for her company. She seemed to know what I needed before I realized it myself, and we made a great team. I dreaded the day she saved enough money to go off to college, but I didn’t begrudge her the opportunity. Emma saw the world as a place to explore. As for me, I’d seen my share of it, and at least for now, I was content to stay in April Springs and enjoy what I had within my grasp.

  * * *

  At a little before five-thirty, I looked at all of the donuts we’d made, and wondered if we’d sell any of them.

  “It’s time to open up,” I said.

  ‘Unless everyone in town has snowmobiles, I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a slow morning,” Emma said, stifling another yawn.

  “If it is, you can take a nap in my office.”

  “Where, on your chair, or your tiny little desk? No, thanks. I’m calling the sofa by the front window.”

  I just shook my head and laughed as I walked through the kitchen doors to the front. It was still dark out, but there was reflected light from the moon illuminating the gray blanket of snow.

  Not a soul was waiting to get in, which shouldn’t have surprised me. It was still a few minutes until we were due to open, so I turned on the radio to see what Lester Moorefield was ranting about this morning.

  His voice came in so clearly it was if he was in the kitchen with Emma, instead of in his studio on the outskirts of town.

  “All of April Springs is buzzing about two things: the snow, and the assassination of Darlene Higgins. The police admit they’re stymied in their investigation, but this reporter has learned that Darlene was not the intended victim at all. In a shocking, exclusive discovery, I have learned that the intended vict
im all along was none other than Muriel Stevens. Tune in for my nine o’clock broadcast to learn why, and more importantly, why no one in town is safe until the Christmas Killer is caught.”

  I turned it back off, sick of Lester’s idle speculation and wild rambling. I had to admit that part of it was because he was right. I was jumping at shadows, and would keep doing it until the murderer was safely behind bars.

  It was officially time to open, so I flipped the neon OPEN sign on, unlocked the door, and was nearly back to the kitchen when I heard a truck rumbling up Springs Drive. I peeked outside and saw a snowplow veering toward the lit sign of the shop.

  Leaving the plow idling in the middle of the street in front of the donut shop, two men got out in heavy overalls and came in.

  “Sorry about your floor,” one of them said, a big man with a ready smile. Just behind him was a small, quiet man who barely made eye contact. The big man had his name stitched on his overalls—the letters BOB written in swirling curly cues—while the other man had a much plainer EARL stitched on his.

  “That concrete has been there a hundred years. I don’t think you could hurt it with a jackhammer. I thought you all were in Charlotte.”

  “We were,” Bob said, “but the mayor pulled us off four hours ago. We had a devil of a time getting back though, didn’t we, Earl?”

  “Yep,” his companion said.

  “You got that right,” Bob replied, slapping his smaller friend on the back.

  Bob looked at the display cases behind me, then said, “How’s about a pot of coffee and a dozen donuts, your choice.”

  “Is this order to go?” I asked.

  “No, ma’am, I’m planning to eat them all right here.” He turned to his friend and asked, “Earl, what are you having? That order was for me. You’re on your own, bucko.”

  Earl just smiled, and Bob said, “I’m just teasing. He’ll share my dozen, but you’d better bring him his own coffee. We’ve been up all night, and I don’t figure we’ll be getting to sleep anytime soon.”

  “Is that safe?” I asked as I poured them two coffees.

  “Look at it this way. Who are we going to hit? It’s not like we’ve been drinking. Nothing but coffee, anyway. Nobody’s parked on the road if they have any sense at all, so we should be fine.”