Troubled Treats

by Jessica Beck

  The First Time Ever Published!

  The 19th Donut Mystery

  From New York Times Bestselling Author

  Jessica Beck

  TROUBLED TREATS

  Other Books by Jessica Beck

  The Donut Mysteries

  Glazed Murder

  Fatally Frosted

  Sinister Sprinkles

  Evil Éclairs

  Tragic Toppings

  Killer Crullers

  Drop Dead Chocolate

  Powdered Peril

  Illegally Iced

  Deadly Donuts

  Assault and Batter

  Sweet Suspects

  Deep Fried Homicide

  Custard Crime

  Lemon Larceny

  Bad Bites

  Old Fashioned Crooks

  Dangerous Dough

  Troubled Treats

  The Classic Diner Mysteries

  A Chili Death

  A Deadly Beef

  A Killer Cake

  A Baked Ham

  A Bad Egg

  A Real Pickle

  A Burned Biscuit

  The Ghost Cat Cozy Mysteries

  Ghost Cat: Midnight Paws

  Ghost Cat 2: Bid for Midnight

  Jessica Beck is the New York Times Bestselling Author of the Donut Mysteries, the Classic Diner Mystery Series, and the Ghost Cat Cozy Mysteries.

  To absent friends

  TROUBLED TREATS by Jessica Beck; Copyright © 2015

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Recipes included in this book are to be recreated at the reader’s own risk. The author is not responsible for any damage, medical or otherwise, created as a result of reproducing these recipes. It is the responsibility of the reader to ensure that none of the ingredients are detrimental to their health, and the author will not be held liable in any way for any problems that might arise from following the included recipes.

  Chapter 1

  “Trust me. You two are going to absolutely love this place,” my mother said as she unlocked the temporary door to the old wagon factory she was having renovated. “I’ve been dying for you both to see it.”

  “Dot, do you have any idea how old this building is?” my husband, Jake, asked her as he idly stroked a brick wall near the entrance.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve even ordered a plaque for the front of the building. It was built in 1889,” she said proudly as she led the way inside. My mother had been insisting that we take this tour over a month since we’d gotten married, but just as we’d schedule it, something else would come up in her life to delay it. That was Momma, always busy with her latest project. I didn’t know how she kept up with it all. As for me, my sole responsibility in life besides my husband was running my donut shop, and I loved it that way. Some folks might not have thought that it was challenging enough, but it was perfect for me. I was allowed enough creativity to develop new tasty treats for my customers, and yet most of my day-to-day life was the same. I’d get up before any person in their right mind was awake, make my way through the dark streets of April Springs, North Carolina to Donut Hearts, and start my day by making cake donuts first, and then yeast ones. Jake was growing restless, though. He’d been retired for less than two months from the state police, and I could tell all of that free time was beginning to wear on him.

  “Amazing. Are you having any trouble finding materials to match the old structure?” he asked.

  “More than I ever imagined I would. The windows were the absolute worst,” she said. “I finally found a company in Germany that specializes in wavy glass. Aren’t they perfect?”

  “They’re beautiful,” Jake said as he admired the careful imperfections.

  “It’s going to be a real showplace when we’re finished with it.”

  “It’s going to be absolutely spectacular,” I said as we walked farther into the building. The main space would ultimately be open, and sported a floor of stained antique hardwood clearly dating back to the building’s origins. In the center of the room, the dark wood was broken up with the image of a lighter maple wagon wheel imbedded into the pattern, a circle of wooden pieces connected with spokes to a stone center, though it was now partially obscured by sheets of plastic hung down temporarily from the area above. There was no loft above that space, with only the heavy wooden timbers between the floor and the roof. The area was well lit even with no overhead lights on as skylights flooded the area with sunshine. Around the perimeter of the space, I could see a wooden stairway that wound itself upward to what appeared to be a series of smaller rooms upstairs. That must have been where the offices had originally been located.

  On the first floor, I saw a hint of movement as a large sheet of plastic flickered in a nonexistent breeze. “Is anyone else here, Momma?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me one bit. Workers are coming in and out of this place all of the time,” Momma said just as we heard a door close on the other side of the building. “In fact, we must have just scared one off,” she added with a grin.

  Jake was keeping quiet, and when I glanced toward him, I saw that he was frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  “Something’s not right. You both need to stay right here,” he said solemnly as he pulled out a pistol I hadn’t even known he’d been carrying. During his time as an investigator with the state police, Jake had been responsible for putting quite a few bad guys behind bars, and one of the downsides of that was that he’d never be able to rest easy without always having a way to protect himself from his past.

  When Momma saw the gun in his hand, she frowned as well. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Jake. Would you mind putting that thing away? It’s making me nervous.”

  “Not just yet,” my husband said softly. “You two keep talking like everything’s normal. I need to check this out.”

  Clearly something had alerted him; I just couldn’t imagine what might have done it. Still, I trusted his instincts, so I did exactly as he’d suggested. “Momma, what do you think of a new donut idea I’ve been playing with at the shop? I want to use mulled cider in the recipe.”

  “Wouldn’t that be too powerful?” she asked as Jake moved slowly forward.

  “Some of my customers seem to prefer flavors that reach up and grab them by the ears,” I said as we watched Jake creep toward the still-moving plastic sheet. He was almost there, and it took everything I had not to hold my breath. Talking a little louder than I meant to, I asked, “Remember those Kool-Aid donuts I made awhile ago? They were strong enough to get up and walk away on their own, but they still had their fans.”

  “Well, they were certainly colorful enough,” Momma said as Jake finally reached the plastic. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stepped around the makeshift barrier near the center of the space, his gun leading the way, and I felt my heart suddenly stop.

  “Call an ambulance,” Jake called out a moment later.

  I didn’t even wait for further information as I pulled out my cellphone and hurried toward him. “What happened?” I asked as I dialed.

  “Somebody stabbed this man in the chest with a piece of rebar,” Jake said as he knelt down and searched for the victim’s pulse.

  I couldn’t see who it was immediately because Jake was blocking my view of his face, but after I told the 911 dispatcher to send someone
quickly, I knelt down beside my husband. I could finally see him clearly, and I recognized the man lying on the floor instantly. It was Sully Jackson, a local electrician, wearing one of his typical red-and-black-checked flannel shirts. He loved them so much that he insisted that his employees wear them as well as some kind of uniform, only this one was being stained by the man’s blood. Sully never missed coming in on Saturday morning and buying a dozen donuts for his crew. As I looked a little more carefully, I saw the tip of the iron rod sticking out of his chest, and blood on his lips. It looked really bad as Sully’s spilled blood began to creep across the wood-and-stone emblem embedded in the old factory floor beneath him.

  “I’ll meet the ambulance out front and bring them back here,” Momma said as she headed to the front door.

  “At least he’s still breathing,” my husband said as he stood after my mother was gone. “Stay with him, Suzanne.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked my husband as I looked down at Sully again.

  “I’m going after whoever did this,” Jake said.

  I doubted Sully had much time left, not with the amount of blood that he’d clearly already lost. I reached out and took the electrician’s right hand in mine, hoping to offer him any comfort that I could. “Just be careful,” I called out to him, but either he didn’t hear me, or he chose to ignore my request.

  I didn’t have time to worry about him, though. I had a dying man on my hands.

  Sully squeezed my hand and tried to say something.

  “Don’t try to talk,” I said as I knelt closer to his ear. “Hang in there, Sully. Help is on the way.”

  “It’s important,” Sully said, his voice a harsh, rasping whisper. As he spoke, a bubble of blood appeared on the corner of his mouth. It was clear that he was trying to tell me something, and just as crucial that I let him.

  “What is it?” I asked as I leaned in even closer to his mouth. I could feel his hot breath on my ear as he squeezed my hand.

  He gasped, and I had to wonder if another wave of pain had just shot through him. “Tried to steal from her.” He wasn’t making any sense, but I couldn’t very well quiz him in his rapidly declining condition.

  “Who did this to you, Sully? Who was trying to steal something? I need more information,” I asked him, desperate to get anything that might help find the person who’d done this to him.

  A chill suddenly went through me as I realized that his breath on my face had suddenly stopped.

  “Sully? Can you hear me? Stay with me!” I pled as my voice got louder and louder.

  But it was too late.

  He was gone.

  Chapter 2

  The emergency medical techs tried their best, but it was clear that they were too late even as they continued to work on Sully’s lifeless body. I felt a strong pair of arms envelop me, and I heard Jake whispering in my ear. “There was nothing any of us could do to help him. By the time we found him, it was already too late.”

  I knew that his words had been meant to comfort me, but they slid off me without any impact whatsoever. “Did you find who did this?” I asked him.

  “Whoever did it was already gone,” Jake said. “Suzanne, I never should have left you here alone with him. I’m sorry.”

  “Nonsense. You had to try to find the killer,” I said.

  “Did he say anything at all after I left?” Jake asked me softly.

  I hated talking about it while the techs continued to work in vain, but Jake was right. This was important. “Just something that didn’t make any sense. He must have been delirious.”

  “Tell me anyway,” Jake ordered.

  “He told me it was important, and then Sully said, ‘Tried to steal from her.’ I tried to get him to tell me who stabbed him, but by then it was too late.”

  “It’s okay, Suzanne,” Jake said as he continued to stroke my arms lightly, doing his best to comfort me.

  “We both know full well that in no way is this okay,” I said. “We have to figure this out.”

  “Let’s see what Chief Grant has to say about it before we decide to do anything on our own,” Jake told me.

  “Stephen Grant is my friend, but we both know that he’ll be in over his head on this,” I said. “You have to get George to appoint you as a special investigator again.” The mayor had done that once before, and I didn’t see why he couldn’t do it again. Jake had a lot more authority to investigate when he could say that he was working for the town of April Springs.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. He’s already in enough trouble for doing it last time. I’m afraid that Grant’s going to have to handle this on his own. If George appoints me again so soon after the last time, he’s basically saying that Stephen isn’t capable of running the police department on his own.”

  “Well, is he?” I asked him. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m a big fan of the guy, but he’s too young to have this kind of weight on him.”

  “I think he’ll grow into it, if he’s given a chance,” Jake said earnestly.

  “And what happens in the meantime? Does whoever did this to Sully go free because of his inexperience?”

  “Don’t worry, we won’t let that happen,” Jake said as he studied the crime scene.

  As they were loading Sully up on the gurney and carting him away, I saw something fall off the stretcher and flutter to the floor. Without thinking, I reached down and retrieved it before it got lost in the chaos.

  “What was that?” Jake asked me. “You shouldn’t have touched it with your bare hands, Suzanne.”

  “If it had any prints on it at all, they were bound to be Sully’s,” I said as I studied the piece of paper in my hand. “It’s the corner of a bill,” I said.

  “What, like an invoice?” Jake asked.

  “No, it’s money,” I said as I offered it to him.

  “You can’t tell much about it, can you?” Jake asked as he pulled out his hanky and took the torn corner from me.

  “We’re not keeping it, are we?” I asked him.

  “No, we’ll turn it over to Grant as soon as he gets here,” he said.

  At that moment, the acting police chief, Stephen Grant, came into the warehouse, his face rigid and grim. “What happened?”

  Jake proceeded to tell him, rattling off the facts as though he were some kind of robot. I knew that it was his training kicking in, but it never ceased to surprise me to see my husband go into full investigator mode. After he was finished, he handed the bill’s corner to the chief.

  “Are you sure that’s exactly what he said, Suzanne?” Chief Grant asked me. “Take a second to think about it if you need to. It’s important.”

  “Jake told you exactly what I heard. You knew Sully pretty well, didn’t you?”

  “I still do, Suzanne,” Chief Grant said stubbornly. “They’re still working on him, so as far as I’m concerned, he’s not gone yet.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” I apologized quickly.

  “I know you didn’t,” the interim chief said as he loosened up a bit. “Yeah, we were close. I worked for him as an unskilled helper over three summers when I was in high school. He was a good guy and the most honest man I’d ever met in my life. I can’t believe someone would do this to him.”

  “I’m curious about that myself,” Jake said. “What could anyone have against a harmless old man working as a subcontractor on this project?”

  “You’d be surprised. The construction industry has its share of bad guys, though most of them are decent enough. Still, Sully banged heads with a few of them when I was around.”

  “What were their beefs with him?” Jake asked.

  “Sully Jackson demanded only the best of everyone he came into contact with, because that’s what he gave everything himself. I remember one time when he made me drive back to the hardware store in the middle of a job because the clerk had charged us twenty-five cents less than we owed him. I tried telling Sully that we could settle up after work, but he wouldn’t
have it. He lost more in my wages than he’d underpaid, but none of that mattered to him. Things had to be square for him.”

  “Don’t worry; we’ll figure out who did this,” I said.

  He looked at me askance for a moment before he spoke again. “Suzanne, does that mean you’re going to meddle in this case?”

  “I prefer to think of it as assisting around the edges of the official investigation,” I said.

  “I’m sure that you do,” Chief Grant said, and then he turned to Jake. “How about you? Are you going to ask the mayor to make you a special investigator again? Normally I wouldn’t mind it, but this time it’s personal.”

  “George told me that after the last time, he couldn’t do that again,” Jake said. “Short of joining your force, I’m just another civilian, no different from anyone else.”

  “I’d never say that,” Chief Grant said. “Does that mean that you’ll be helping her, now that Grace is out of the picture?”

  My best friend, Grace Gauge, was his girlfriend, so of course he’d heard about her decision to retire from our amateur sleuthing, but still, it hurt a little hearing him say it. “I’m not entirely convinced that she’s really retired,” I said.

  “Trust me. She’s finished,” Chief Grant said. “So, I asked you a question, Jake. Are you going to dig into this, too?”

  “Would that necessarily be a bad thing if I did?” he asked the acting police chief.

  For a moment, there was tense silence that felt as though it were dragging on forever. Finally, Chief Grant spoke. “Officially, you understand that I can’t condone anything you or your wife might do,” he said overbearingly before he added with a grin, “but I can’t exactly stop you, either. All I ask is that you keep me in the loop on everything you uncover.”

  “We can do that,” Jake said, but Chief Grant wasn’t finished yet.