“But you’re the one who selected her. Why did you need to congratulate her?”
Silence reigned for a full minute.
“Answer me,” Sophia said.
“Because she deserved it, okay? She was a great dancer. One of the best.”
“Better than me?” Sophia asked.
Oh boy, this tiff had degraded fast. Or escalated quickly as Amy would’ve put it. Her bestie wobbled on the spot, eyes round as donut holes.
“I didn’t say that,” Shawn replied. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“Shawn, a necklace is not the type of gift you give to a friend or a colleague or even as a congratulatory gift. A necklace is personal,” Sophia replied, coldly. “When did you get this close with my sister?”
“I didn’t. I wasn’t. You don’t understand,” Shawn replied.
“Explain it to me.”
Another awkward silence. Boy, dancers sure knew how to up the drama.
“There’s nothing to explain,” Shawn croaked.
Confusion curled through Heather’s mind. A necklace. Isabella had died with a necklace in her hand, ripped from her neck. Shawn had hugged her but said she’d deserved what she got.
“Then there’s no reason for me to stay here. I deserve better than this. Than you. It’s over,” Sophia said. The back door wrenched open.
Amy scrambled to Heather’s hiding spot and fell on top of her, in a tangle of arms and legs. Their heads banged together and made a noise similar to two empty coconut halves.
Heather pressed a hand over Amy’s mouth and stared at the path.
Sophia’s back retreated down it and toward a far gate, which led out of the yard. She hadn’t noticed them in her rage.
Heather and Amy stared at each other, wordlessly.
The back door clicked closed a moment later, and the lights in the room above their heads switched off.
Heather lay still for another second, then finally released Amy and rose from her hiding spot. Questions. Too many questions and no answers. And now, she was covered in tulip petals, pollen, and mud.
“Let’s get outta here,” Heather mouthed.
Chapter 10
Heather opened the kitchen doors in Donut Delights and walked into a scene of organized chaos.
“More bananas?” Angelica yelled from the corner. “I make cream but no bananas, and it don’t work.”
“I’m going to run out and get some as soon as the next batch comes out of the oven,” Jung said, from beside the fridge. “We need more coconut shavings too. There’s that organic store down the road.”
“I hope you’re not talking about Strictly Organic,” Amy growled.
Heather clapped her hands, once, and everyone froze. Maricela and Ken were out front taking orders – she’d already told them her news.
“Two seconds of your time, guys. Keep whisking, baking and decorating while I talk,” Heather said.
Her assistants did as they were told. Jung opened the fridge and poked his head inside, then drew out a bottle of pomegranate juice.
“We’ve just had two orders come in from a wedding in New York,” Heather said. “Chocolate Pomegranate Glazed and Lemon Chiffon.” The same donut she’d served at her wedding.
“Oh no. We never make it with the store order and the other online –” Angelica cut off and erupted into a slew of Spanish words.
“Don’t worry, Ang,” Heather said, “That’s what my second bit of news is about. I’ve put out a few ads in the paper and online. We’re officially hiring new help. I love and trust you guys, so I wanted to ask that if you have any family or friends, anyone who needs a job and loves baking, send them my way for an interview.”
Jung gave a thumbs up, then plopped the pomegranate juice on a counter. “I think I know a guy who might be interested.”
“Great,” Heather replied. “As long as he’ll fit in with what we do here, I’m happy to interview him. That’s all I wanted to say. I’ll load up the new orders for you guys.” She pointed at the screen on the wall, which flashed order tickets.
Heather opened the kitchen doors and strode into the interior of Donut Delights.
The friendly atmosphere folded her into its arms, and she grinned at Maricela and Ken, behind the front counter. Chatter swirled through the room, and the scents of glaze and coffee drifted on the air.
This was what she’d wanted from the start. This was where she belonged and –
“A minute of your time, Mrs. Shepherd?” Geoff Lawless stepped into her path. His bald pate glimmered beneath the down lights.
Heather stared at him and shook her head to clear it. “With regards to what, Lawless?”
“My case,” he replied, and pointed at his notepad.
He’d scrawled Isabella Hunt’s name at the top of the page in blocky handwriting.
“Say what?” Heather’s jaw dropped, but she rammed it closed again. “That’s not your case. You’re a baker, Geoff, not a P.I.” Oh boy, she should’ve seen this coming.
The last few cases, Geoff had hovered around and gotten in her way.
“I was hired by Miss Sophia Hunt to get to the bottom of this.”
“You’re not a certified investigator,” Heather replied, then glanced around the store – she didn’t want this to disturb her customers.
“Neither were you,” Geoff replied, in a gruff monotone. “Never stopped you from solving cases.”
Should she be flattered that he’d mimicked her every life choice up until now? Or should she be alarmed?
A mix of the two emotions tugged at her heart.
“We could work together on this,” Geoff said, then lifted his cell phone out of his top pocket and clicked on the screen. He shoved the phone into her hands and pointed at the screen. “See here?”
Heather stared at him for a second, then lowered her gaze to the screen.
Isabella Hunt stood front, and center – the video was zoomed in, the audio lost in the buzz of the bakery – in her leotard, her leg extended backward, and neck lengthened.
Hailey Jaine appeared to the right of the frame. She pointed at Isabella and mouthed something unintelligible.
Isabella’s stance changed immediately. She rounded on the woman and yelled back, then threw her arms up in the air. Hailey followed suite. An argument.
“You can’t hear it. The girl here,” Geoff said and jabbed his stubby thumb against Hailey’s face. “She wants to be the lead, and she’s yelling at the victim dancer.”
“Look, Geoff, thanks for this but you can’t investigate the case. You could mess something up or sully the evidence.” Heather bit the inside of her cheek. She spoke from experience. Now that she’d been certified, each time she looked back at her behavior in the past, her stomach turned.
She’d put a lot at risk through her selfish need to ‘do the right thing.’
“You did it.”
“And I was wrong,” Heather said. “Please, just hear me out on this. You can’t investigate. If you do, you could wind up in a lot of trouble.”
Geoff snorted at her and wagged the phone above his head. “I have all the answers,” he boomed. “You’re just jealous.”
“Geoff –”
But the mimic turned and strode to the door. His heavy boots clunked on her golden boards.
Heather pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes for a second. What did this mean?
So many contradicting pieces of information, and now this. Geoff Lawless on an investigating rampage.
“Heaven help Hillside,” Heather whispered. She’d have to put a stop to it before it was too late.
Chapter 11
Another night at Dos Chicos. Heather should’ve been bored of the Mexican restaurant, by now, but it was their staple, and she loved the enchiladas more than… not donuts, but more than a lot of things.
Ryan took a sip of his soda and placed the glass on the table between them. He collected the condensation at its base, then rubbed his thumb
and forefinger together. “Something’s on your mind.”
“The case. Lilly. New orders from halfway across America. We’re lucky Ronald Tombs is helping us out with his courier company. Refrigerated vans.” Heather tucked her hair behind her ear.
Latin music danced through the restaurant, accompanied by the smiles of the waiters and the delicious food.
“I can’t help you with the orders, and Lilly, well, that’s only a matter of time and patience,” Ryan said. He rubbed his palms together. “We’ve prepared for the inspection, love, that will work out.”
“If you say so,” Heather replied. She wanted to believe that was true, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up, either. “And there’s one more thing that’s bothering me.”
“What is it?”
“Geoff Lawless came into Donut Delights today. He’s investigating the case. Sophia Hunt hired him. He showed me some video of Isabella and Hailey having an argument over who was the lead dancer or something,” Heather said, and waved her hand.
“Geoff has no right to investigate. I’ll pay him a visit right away,” Ryan said. “I warned you too when you started stepping out of line.”
Heather nodded. The last thing they needed was Geoff muddying up the evidence.
The waiter arrived and placed a steaming plate of chicken enchiladas in front of Heather. Her mouth watered and she picked up her knife and fork. Heather tucked into her dinner.
Ryan crunched on nachos across from her, then paused and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I can’t find anything out about the necklace. Nothing. None of the suspects have a clue. I even phoned the victim’s mother to ask. Nada.”
Heather swallowed and balanced her knife and fork on either side of her plate. “Funny you should mention that,” Heather said. “I found out that Shawn Masterson gave Isabella a necklace to congratulate her on getting the lead in the show.”
“That’s strange,” Ryan said. “This whole case is muddled up. Shawn hates and loves Isabella, Hailey wants the lead but doesn’t at the same time, and Sophia, hmmm, I don’t have enough information on her.”
“Our three main suspects. It has to be one of them, right? There’s no way anyone else did it?” Heather asked, and speared a piece of chicken with her fork.
“It’s definitely one of them,” Ryan replied. “The evidence is there, love, we’ve just got to make it match up. We have them all at the scene. We just don’t know what time.”
“The necklace,” Heather said. “Shawn might’ve loved Isabella, or he might’ve had another agenda. Whatever it was, that necklace is our lead. We’re going to need to go back to the dance studio and ask some questions. Maybe check out the personal effects of the dancers.”
“The lockers?” Ryan asked. “That’d probably be a good path to take. Maybe we should run over the evidence, one more time.”
Heather picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth. “Good idea. Okay, so there was some kind of fight between Isabella and whoever gave her that necklace. That’s the assumption, anyway.”
“Reasons to fight?” Ryan asked, around a mouthful of nachos.
“Jealousy of the other dancers, Hailey and Sophia, perhaps, but I don’t see Hailey having given Isabella a necklace when they didn’t get on. And Shawn, well, maybe they fought because of Sophia. Isabella was angry that he was dating her because she was clearly interested in him if that note is anything to go by.”
Ryan finished off another nacho and dabbed a bit of guacamole off the corner of his mouth. “So, all the suspects had the motivation to push Isabella. Hit her.”
“Yeah, that’s another thing. Both women, Sophia and Hailey, have ballet slippers. They wouldn’t need to borrow a pair from the studio unless they’d forgotten them at home.” Heather wiped her hand across her forehead. “And it’s not like this was a premeditated murder, so whoever had the slipper was probably going to use it.”
“That’s an assumption,” Ryan said.
“I know, I know, but I’m trying to make sense of this. A fight hit on the back of the head with a shoe, the necklace, and our three suspects all had the motivation to murder Isabella. I just wish I had more clarity on the relationships they had with her.”
“What do you mean?” Ryan asked. He drank another sip of soda, then cleared his throat.
“Well,” Heather replied, “think about it. Shawn might’ve loved Isabella, or he might’ve hated her, given his insinuation that she deserved what she got. He was also super jealous of the dancers because of his knee injury.” She’d heard the way he’d spoken to Hailey in the park.
He’d been jealous, all right.
“Unless, him saying that she deserved what she got was a way to cover the feelings he had for her. Maybe he didn’t want Sophia to find out, because he wanted to continue his relationship with her, now that Isabella was out of the picture.” Ryan tapped the side of his glass and the ice inside it clinked together.
“That’s a strong possibility,” Heather replied. He’d wanted to avoid a confrontation with Sophia the other night.
“And Sophia, well, they were twins. She might’ve been jealous of her sister having the lead, but they were still sisters,” Ryan said.
“We’ve seen way worse. A father who murdered his daughter, for instance. Remember the Polinski family? There are all kinds in this world.” Heather cut up her enchilada into even slivers.
“Hailey Jaine is a question mark. I’d like to know more about her involvement in this. None of the suspects say they were at the studio at the time of Isabella’s murder, but their fingerprints are there. Hailey’s too.”
Heather gobbled up a piece of her enchilada and nodded. She pointed with her fork. “That settles it,” she said. “After the inspection tomorrow, you and I are going to the studio.”
Chapter 12
Heather paced back and forth in the living room, arms folded, and checked her watch for the twentieth time in the last minute. “She’s late.”
“Your watch is fast, hon,” Ryan replied. “Just relax. She’ll be here.” He lifted the remote and flicked through the channels.
“I don’t know how you’re so calm, right now. This is the inspection which decides whether we get –”
The doorbell rang, and Heather’s heart leaped right into her throat. She grabbed at it, and her pulse fluttered against her palm.
“She’s here,” Ryan said and switched off the TV. He rose from the sofa, walked to his wife, then slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her into a tight embrace. “She’s here, and everything is going to turn out just fine. I promise.”
Heather bit back tears. “Swear on your life?”
“I swear it,” Ryan replied, and the strength poured from his voice and into her soul.
She couldn’t afford to greet Pamela, Lilly’s social worker, in this state. Weepy, nervous mess probably wasn’t a popular type of foster parent.
The doorbell rang for the second time and Dave scooted off his spot on the sofa and yapped a few barks of warning. He’d lazed in the sun all day – ah, to be a dog.
Heather strode through to the entrance hall, pulled back the latch on the front door and opened up. “Hi,” she said. “So glad you came.”
Pamela’s hair was style up in a neat ponytail. Her crisp, gray suit emanated professionalism. She gave Heather and Ryan a warm smile, then stepped forward. “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd. How are you today?”
“Nervous,” Ryan replied.
Heather backed up the sentiment with a mildly hysterical giggle. Gosh, she had to get it together!
“May I come in?” Pamela asked.
“Of course,” Heather said, and stepped out of her path.
Pamela strode into the entrance hall and looked around. “Oh, what a lovely space,” she said.
“Thank you,” Heather replied. “We try to keep a warm atmosphere in our home. Lilly comes to visit often, and this has been a child-friendly space for quite some time.”
Pamela nodded. “That’s
good to hear. I know that Lilly is very excited at the prospect of living with you two.”
Heather’s heart pounded again, and she forced her arms to stillness at her sides. “Well, we’re ecstatic at the thought of having her in our home.”
“Do you have a bedroom prepared for Lilly?” Pamela asked.
“Right this way,” Heather replied. She hurried up the stairs to the second floor. Her heels stomped on the boards, but she couldn’t lighten her steps. She walked to the door to Lilly’s new room, then pointed to the decorative nameplate Ryan had put up a few days earlier. “We wanted to make her feel at home,” Heather said.
“Lovely,” Pamela replied, then made a mark on her clipboard.
Heather opened the door and walked into a cloud of pink and white.
Pamela followed her in. The social worker’s jaw dropped.
Light streamed through the open windows, and a gentle breeze tugged at the organza curtains. A doggy bed sat in the corner, for Dave’s use, of course, and a few stuffed animals – a dog in a police uniform, from Ryan, and a donut from Heather – sat against the cushy pillows on the bed.
“This is wonderful,” Pamela said.
“I know there’s more to fostering than a nice room,” Heather said, “but I want you to know that we’re committed to Lilly and her journey as a human being.”
Ryan nodded agreement beside her. “I never thought I’d have the opportunity to raise a child,” he said. “I thought that chance had shot by, a long time ago. This means a lot to me. It means a lot to Heather, too.”
Heather dabbed at her eyes and gave a watery smile.
“I can see that,” Pamela replied, and scratched out more notes. “I’m impressed with the room, and I know that Lilly would love to live with you. My only worry is that you both have hectic schedules. I know you’re an officer, Mr. Shepherd, and that you have two jobs, Mrs. Shepherd. Will that affect your ability to look after Lilly?”
Heather’s breath caught in her chest. Would it?
“No,” Heather said, and Ryan echoed her sentiments. “I’ll be home with Lilly, every night. We’re looking forward to having a family. A real family, at last.” She looped her arm around her husband’s waist, then rested her head on his shoulder.
Banana Coconut Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 21 Page 4