He stepped in after them. “Nope. Well, in the beginning, they struggled because there wasn’t anything tourism related going on Hillside, but lately, no way. No loans to pay back, no evil business partners looking for a handout. Nothing. Totally above board and doing great.”
Amy huffed a sigh which fully illustrated Heather’s internal frustration.
“But he didn’t pay his staff well,” Heather muttered. She lowered herself to a crouch and lifted the first sofa cushion.
“Hey! A penny,” Amy said. “Wait, you didn’t check the couch during your first sweep?”
“They did.” Ryan frowned.
“Does anyone have a key to the office apart from Shane?” Heather asked, and gestured for a baggie.
Ryan extricated one from his pocket and handed it over. Heather picked up the coin and slid it inside.
“You’re going to have good luck now,” Amy said.
“I hope that applies to catching this killer.” Heather handed the bag back to Ryan. “The key?”
“No idea. Mrs. Price didn’t have a key and Shane should’ve been the only one with it. It was on his keychain on his body,” Ryan said.
“Someone could’ve made a copy.” Heather lifted the next couch cushion and blinked at the solitary strand of gold draped across the fabric base. “Well, hello there,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
“A single blond hair,” Heather replied.
Ryan switched on his flashlight and trained it on the strand. The end glittered, but the golden sheen didn’t reach the base, which was dull and… “Brown. It’s dyed.”
“Jean,” Amy said. “She’s not a natural blond.”
Heather sighed. “Maybe this was the place she met with Shane.” And that meant Jean had lied. And if she’d lied about hanging out with Shane or being close with him, then what else might she have lied about?
“This doesn’t necessarily mean that she lied,” Amy said. What was she? Telepathic? “She could’ve been in the office for a meeting.”
“Why not conduct the meeting in the actual office where there was a desk and two chairs?” Heather put down the cushion on top of the hair. “I’m not touching the hair. We might be able to squeeze DNA out of the follicle. Long shot.”
“I’ll call forensics back,” Ryan said. “Clearly the first sweep didn’t catch everything we needed.”
“Or Jean came back after the fact.” Amy might’ve been right on that one. But why would Jean return to the scene of the crime only to sit on the sofa, drop a penny and one of her hairs?
It didn’t add up. Then again, nothing in the case had thus far.
Chapter 10
Heather tucked her legs underneath herself and drew the blanket across her lap. It’d been a while since they’d had one of their good old fashioned girls’ nights and she couldn’t wait to tuck into popcorn and hot chocolate.
The TV displayed the title screen for Dinosaur, and Lilly had the remote. “Are we ready?” She asked, and squished around on the sofa. Dave groaned and settled his head on his paws beside her.
Cupcake purred from Amy’s lap, already fast asleep.
“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Ames said.
“What?” Lilly asked and dropped the remote on her lap. “You don’t want to watch it?”
“No, of course, I do, honey, I just – I’ve got something on my mind,” Amy said and stroked Cupcake’s back.
“Is it a murder case?”
Heather shot her daughter a sharp look. Lils knew better than to ask about the cases. She’d been inquisitive since the beginning but Heather had put her foot down after Lils had tried to help her during an investigation and consequently endangered herself.
“I’m just asking if she’s worried about a case, mom,” Lilly said and bunched her lips to one side. “Not the actual details of the case.”
“Still.”
“Oh relax, you two. It’s not the case I’m worried about,” Amy said.
Heather frowned. Ames hadn’t told her anything about non-work related troubles. Was her relationship okay? Could this have something to do with Jamie? No, Amy wouldn’t bring that up in front of Lilly.
“All right, so what’s bothering you?” Heather asked.
Amy shifted Cupcake off her lap, then bent and picked up her handbag from the carpet. She rummaged around inside it.
Both Heather and Lilly straightened, gazes on the mystery unfolding in front of them.
Amy brought out the Hillside Reporter. “This.”
“Oh gosh, what now?”
“Don’t worry about what they say, mom. They’re mean. And they’re liars. Everyone at my school thinks so too, now,” Lilly said. “After I wrote that piece about bullying and how even grownups can be bullies, the kids started reading up on stuff themselves.”
“Thanks, Lils.” Heather blew her daughter a kiss. “But I am intrigued. What’s the update? Last you guys told me they said I ran away from Hillside because I’m so terrible at what I do.”
The slander had reached a level of ridiculousness which Heather could only attribute to Kate’s influence. The woman wanted Heather to go down in flames.
“It’s crazy stuff. I don’t understand why the paper is publishing this. Don’t they have fact-checkers?” Amy asked, and flipped the paper open to the center pages. She grimaced. “Everything in here is a lie.”
“It’s phrased as an opinion piece sprinkled with a few facts to make it seem real,” Heather said. She hadn’t read many of the articles, but she’d picked up on the tone and their method of delivery.
“What did they say?” Lilly asked, and scooted closer.
“They suggested that Heather’s involvement in all these cases might be a hidden agenda,” Amy replied and scanned the words on the page. “That she’s doing this because she has something to hide. A big secret.”
“What kind of secret?” Even Heather was intrigued. Lemon had done his job on that front.
“They say that it’s a dark and sinister treasure. Only time will tell.” Amy folded the paper, then tossed it aside. “They’re trying to make it look like you’re a murderer.”
“What?”
“No way,” Lilly said. “That’s what they meant?”
“That’s what it looks like to me and anyone else who cares to read this trash,” Amy said. “And if they’re making these claims now, I can only imagine what kinds of claims they’ll make a few weeks from now.”
“Oh, heavens.” Heather massaged her temples. “I really don’t need this right now. Can’t they just, I don’t know –”
“Get a life,” Lilly said.
“Or find some journalistic integrity. They haven’t reached out to you for comment once, but they say that they’ve reached out to you for comment and didn’t get a reply at the bottom of every article.”
“Liars,” Heather said. “But there’s not much we can do about this.” Anger wouldn’t serve them well in this instance. Anger never paid, in truth, but she couldn’t help the streak of it which scorched through her. Why couldn’t Kate just let this go?
What had she ever done to the woman to deserve this kind of treatment? They hadn’t been friends, sure, and Kate had always been the jealous type, but this was over the top.
“There is something we – no, sorry, there’s something I can do about it,” Amy said.
“What do you mean?” Lils perked up. She grabbed the sulking Cupcake – how dare Amy have dumped her – and plopped her in her lap.
“I’ve been doing a little investigating of my own,” Amy said and tapped the side of her nose. “I think I’ve got some information which might help us out.”
“Meaning what?”
“That’s for me to know and you to witness the results of down the line,” she replied. “Just trust me on this one, Heather. I’ve got your back.”
Amy had a notoriously bad attitude when it came to Kate Laverne. The last thing they needed was an all-out donut-cupcake war because of her retaliation to
the articles.
“Ames –”
“If you think you can stop me on this one, you’re wrong. Don’t bother,” Amy said, firmly.
Heather sucked her bottom lip. What could she do? Ames wasn’t a child and she couldn’t send her upstairs without a movie if she didn’t listen. She had to trust that her bestie had their best interests at heart. “All right,” Heather said. “Just be careful, Ames. You know what Laverne is like.”
Amy snorted. It didn’t engender Heather with much confidence.
“Great!” Lilly clapped her hands. Cupcake flicked her ears. “So we can watch Dinosaur, now?” She picked up the remote without waiting for an answer.
Case dismissed.
Chapter 11
Heather swished the rag across the countertop, back and forth, back and forth, relishing the squeak of cleanliness. The glass glinted, smudge-free and showing off this morning’s batch of Peaches and Cream Donuts.
They’d sold out yesterday. She’d had to order more peaches halfway through the day, and the online orders had positively poured in over the last few weeks. The Joint Venture with Col Owen had been successful, to say the least.
“Mrs. Shepherd?”
Heather’s gaze traveled up the smart pink dress and to the face of the ex-beauty queen, surrounded by mountains of blond hair. Hannah Price. Why on earth would she come to a donut store?
Hannah was part of the group of females who though carbs equaled a fate worse than death. And sugar? Forget about it.
“How may I help you, Mrs. Price? Would you like some green tea?”
“Green tea,” Hannah said, expression glazed over. “What?”
“Never mind. Are you okay? You seem a little –”
“I need to speak with you in private,” Hannah whispered, the squeaky tones deeper than usual.
“Sure,” Heather said and hurried to her office door. “Right this way. Through here.”
Hannah drifted across the floor as if she wasn’t actually attached to reality. Her gaze danced across the tables and counters but didn’t settle on anything for longer than a second.
She traipsed into Heather’s office and sat down in the chair. She placed her magenta clutch in her lap and waited, quietly.
Heather shut the door, then took her place in her office chair. What on earth had gotten into the woman? This was a far cry from the show she’d put on during the interview in ‘paradise garden.’
“Hannah?”
She jumped. “Oh, sorry. I – I’ve got a lot on my mind at the moment.”
Clearly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t feel safe,” Hannah whispered, her lips barely moving. “In my own home. Something’s not right there. The floodlights keep switching on at night.”
Heather flashbacked to her own experience with floodlights when Georgie had tried to break into her home. Luckily, the alarm system was one to be reckoned with.
“I need protection,” she whispered. “I want a police car to park outside my house. Mrs. Shepherd, someone is after me. It’s the killer.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged. Have you phoned the police about this?”
“No. Not yet.”
“I’ll put a call through for you,” Heather said and reached for her office phone.
“Wait.” Hannah’s fingers trembled and slipped on the clasp of her clutch. “There’s something else. I found something I shouldn’t have.”
“What is it?
Hannah opened her bag and reached inside. She drew out a photograph, then slid it across the surface of the desk.
Heather picked it up and frowned at its inhabitants.
Jean Lafonte stood arm in arm with Shane Price, both of them were at least ten years younger in the photo and grinning. Their body language didn’t say ‘just friends’ either. This looked suspiciously romantic.
“I don’t understand,” Hannah said. “I found this tucked under the mattress in the guest room. I don’t know what it means, but it looks like –”
“Jean and Shane were an item.”
“I don’t see how it’s possible,” Hannah replied, and that far off look finally disappeared. She speared Heather with a stare. “Jean didn’t know Shane before she worked at the Tourism Depot. He told me that he found her through a mutual friend in the service industry. Some guy who owned a restaurant.”
“Clearly, that’s not the case.” A photo of them together ten years ago. What did it mean? They might’ve been a couple at the time, but why, oh why would Shane have hired his ex-girlfriend to work in his current business.
This looked real bad for Jean. She’d definitely lied about being close to him. In the least, she’d omitted the truth about their previous relationship, whether it’d been romantic or otherwise.
“I don’t understand why he wanted her in the store,” Hannah said. “But it makes sense, now.”
“How so?”
“She made me uncomfortable and he knew that. Shane knew that I didn’t like him seeing her every single day, but he never did anything about it.”
“Did you ask him to?” Heather put the photo down but didn’t give it back. They’d gotten their first piece of hard evidence. She’d have to scan and email a copy to both Ryan and Ames.
“Are you kidding?” Hannah let out a bitter laugh. “We fought constantly about it. That was probably the thing we fought about the most.”
And Heather had been under the impression that the Price marriage had been positively heavenly. The stuff Hallmark cards expounded upon.
“I asked him to fire her. Or at least give her fewer shifts or whatever and he said no. He actually told me no.”
Hannah wasn’t the type of woman people said ‘no’ to, apparently. Her cheeks puffed out at the sheer outrage of her husband having used that word.
“What did you do?”
“What could I do?” Hannah shook her head. “It was his business and he looked after me. He made sure that I had everything I wanted. There was a point where complaining about it just shut him down. He’d just turn around and walk away from me. I realized that if I continued fighting with him about it, I might lose him altogether.”
“So you stopped.”
“Yes, I stopped. I ignored it to save my marriage, and now, it’s over. Everything’s over and all I have is that stupid garden to show for it.” Hannah slammed upright and the clutch dropped to the carpet. “People can say what they want about me, Mrs. Shepherd, they can call me a gold digger or other names. But I – I loved that man until the day he died.”
Heather couldn’t look away. No wonder the woman had been named queen at a pageant. Now, that she’d dropped the airhead act, she was magnetic. A total firecracker. “We’re doing everything we can to find out who did this, Mrs. Price.”
“Try harder,” Hannah said.
Chapter 12
“I can’t believe you’re not nervous,” Amy said and crouched down in the passenger’s seat of the Chevrolet. “We’re in a bright red car. You don’t think she’ll notice that we’re just hanging around out here?”
“I can tell it’s been a while since we’ve done a stakeout,” Heather replied and glanced at her bestie. “You’re dripping sweat.”
“It’s a bright, red car, Heather. Bright red!”
“Cherry red.”
“Same difference. She’s going to see us and then our cover will be blown and we’ll end up in trouble with the cops – wait, we can’t get in trouble with cops.” Amy’s rambling continued in a low hiss of air which reminded Heather of a punctured balloon.
“No, we can’t get in trouble with the cops. We’re on their side of the fence, now.”
“Yeah, but that uh, that grandmother of hers was pretty scary. Am I right? That Carly lady? She kinda freaked me out,” Amy whispered.
“You didn’t even meet her, Amy. I told you about her after the fact.”
“I saw her there when she barged into your office, Heather. She was a witch on a mission. I thought she
’d start flinging lightning.”
Heather reached across and flicked Ames’ on the nose. “Get it together, woman. We’re co-investigators, now.”
“Ouch,” Amy whispered and rubbed the tip of her nose. “I’m together. I’m just – uh, considering the possibilities.”
Heather focused on the house at the end of the street, its front illuminated by the porch light. Jean Lafonte hadn’t gone to bed yet, though it was past 10 pm. One of the windows along the side of the house remained in darkness. That was probably Billy’s bedroom.
“We should’ve just interviewed her. Showed her the picture,” Amy said.
“We will if this doesn’t work. I’ve got a feeling about something,” Heather replied. “I want to see where she goes.”
“Why? Because of Hannah Price?”
“That’s right. She said she’s scared and that someone’s watching her. The picture of Jean and Shane together changes things,” Heather replied, and unclipped her seatbelt – they wouldn’t leave anytime soon.
“You’re really going to take the word of a beauty queen?” Amy scoffed.
“Hey, don’t be mean, Ames. And don’t judge a book by its cover. How would you feel if people thought you were nothing more than a pretty face?”
“That would require me actually having a pretty face,” Amy replied.
Heather rolled her eyes. Her bestie was gorgeous but refused to see it. “I’m not going to ignore Hannah’s fears because it might lead us to answers. And – whoa.”
“What?” Amy perked up.
A woman hurried down the sidewalk toward the Lafonte home. Her back was hunched and her plum hair wobbled in time with her steps.
“Well, this is a strange time for granny to visit,” Heather said.
“Oh gosh. It’s Carly. If she sees us –”
But Carly wasn’t concerned with the Chevrolet down the street. She rushed up the front stairs of the house without a backward glance, knocked once, then disappeared inside.
“That’s our cue,” Heather said and opened her door.
“I wish I could say I was surprised.” Amy followed her out.
Peaches and Cream Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy - Book 41 (Donut Hole Cozy Mystery) Page 4