Lemon Chiffon Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 8

by Susan Gillard

  Dave’s bark reverberated inside the bathroom.

  “Keep it down in there,” Amy whispered to him. “This is a covert operation, you know.”

  But Dave didn’t care. He barked three times. Yap, yip, yap.

  Heather bounded off the bed. “I bet he’s found something.”

  Chapter 13

  “My dog is a genius,” Heather said, standing above Dave.

  He’d scratched at the bottom corner of the cupboard in the bathroom, barking, until Heather had rushed in to pay attention.

  She’d bent and fiddled between the skirting and the board, then extracted a cigarette.

  “I present to you, Exhibit B.” She held it up with a pair of tweezers she’d snatched from the corner of the sink. “Un cigarette!”

  “What does that prove?” Amy asked.

  “That one of the two smoking suspects was in the room with her. Jane Duvall didn’t smoke,” Heather said. “She was a fitness freak and I know for a fact she petitioned to have tobacco banned from Texas.”

  “That must’ve failed miserably,” Amy replied.

  “Yes, yes it did.” Heather held the cigarette butt out and stared at the filter. There wasn’t lipstick on the edge, but Lori didn’t always wear makeup.

  “Let’s think about this for a second,” Ryan said, perching on the corner of the ornate bathtub, which had clawed feet. “We’ve got two main suspects.”

  “Lori Lisalot, who has a vendetta towards Jane, smoked and might’ve fake cried at the memorial dinner.”

  “Well, when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous,” Heather murmured. Her fingers had begun to ache from holding the tweezers.

  “That’s because it is ridiculous,” Ryan said. “I highly doubt that we’ll find any other evidence to implicate the woman, at this point.”

  “What about Bear Trapp?” Amy asked. “He published that horrible article about her and everything.”

  “Bear Trapp wouldn’t hurt a fly,” a deep voice spoke from the bathroom door.

  Heather and Amy squealed, Ryan froze, and Dave set off his bark on repeat feature.

  Roger ‘Bear’ Trapp stepped into the tiny room. “Kinda crowded in here, isn’t it?”

  “I – uh. I.” There really wasn’t anything Heather could think of to say. No possible way they could recover from this situation.

  “I think it’s cute that you three think you can implicate me in this crime. You don’t even know what you’re talking about, what you’re dealing with here.” Bear folded his muscly arms across his chest. “You want the truth?”

  Dave barked an answer. He was the only one.

  “I was in love with Jane. We had a deeply personal relationship.”

  “So it was you who had dinner with her, the night before she died,” Heather whispered, still holding the cigarette aloft like a totem for worship. She lowered her hand slowly, a blush creeping up her décolletage and neck.

  “Yes. That night she told me that we couldn’t be together anymore, because she was married and she didn’t want to live a lie. She cried while she said it, but I knew the truth.”

  “What was the truth?” That was Amy, who’d finally found her voice.

  “That she was more concerned about her career than she was about our relationship.” Bear shook his head, his dark locks flopping around his eyes. He forced them back with his fingers, and sighed.

  “Huh?” Amy and Heather said, in unison. Dave snuffled around at their feet, twisting the leash around Amy’s ankles by default.

  “She was afraid that our secret relationship would get out and ruin her career. Jane hasn’t loved her husband for years, but she did love me. Just not more than herself, not more than her blessed career,” Bear said, bitterly.

  “Is that why you published that article about her?” Heather asked, chewing the inside of her cheek.

  “Your powers of perception astound me. Yes, that’s why I published the article. That’s why I stormed out of her room that night. I only came to your stupid event to spend some time with her. I thought it could be a pre-honeymoon for us,” he said, then laughed bitterly.

  He reached into his pocket and fumbled around.

  They gasped in unison, and Ryan moved to protect the women.

  “Oh relax,” Bear said, “I told you I’m not a killer.” He brought out a velvet box and flicked it open. Inside, on a gorgeous mauve cushion, sat a diamond engagement ring. “I was going to propose this weekend.”

  “But how could you if she was still married?” Ryan frowned.

  Bear snapped the box shut. “Because she told me she was getting a divorce. Showed me the papers and everything. She hadn’t given it to her husband yet and I was stupid enough to believe her.”

  Heather tried to replay the scene in her mind, to search for what might’ve happened that night. “So, you came up here to propose and then had burgers instead?”

  “Yeah, it was Jane’s idea to have the burgers. She had a thyroid problem, and she hated giving into the craving for sweets, so she’d allow herself to snack on something savory but high in carbs or whatever, instead. I don’t know how it worked, but she seemed pretty happy after the burger.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Heather whispered. “A thyroid problem! That would explain why she was so desperate for a donut at the party.” They hadn’t served lunch yet and Angelica had been about to serve the Lemon Chiffon crueller donuts as an appetizer.

  “Whatever, I don’t care about that,” Bear said. “I care about myself now, and myself alone.”

  “That’s not –”

  “Save it,” Bear said, holding his palm up. “Save it for the cops actually. I’ve already called them to arrest you for this little breaking and entering stunt.”

  Dave barked twice. Heather couldn’t agree with the dog more. Her insides had gone icy cold at the mention of the cops.

  Ryan had gone pale. He reached out and grabbed her hand, then squeezed.

  “Guess you three should’ve kept your noses out of other people’s business,” Bear said, with a smirk, and tucked the ring box back into his pocket. “Good luck in prison, I hear it’s fun in France.”

  And with that, Bear Trapp strode from the bathroom and out into the hall. The French police streamed in a moment later.

  Chapter 14

  Piti Brodoteau peacocked into room 212, twirling his moustache and sniffing at the suspects.

  The suspects were them, of course. Heather and Ryan, standing hand in hand in the center of the room, now, and Amy, hugging Dave to her chest.

  Heather didn’t want to think of what would happen to Dave should they be arrested, which it very much seemed like they would be.

  “So.” Piti let the word hover in the air.

  Officers stood around the room, examining ‘evidence’ and casting angry glances at the three of them. They had broken the law so thoroughly, that it was shattered around their feet, and there wasn’t a chance they could avoid stepping on the shards.

  “Detective, I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” Ryan said, squeezing Heather’s hand, gently. Trying to give her strength in a hopeless situation, no doubt.

  “Did you break zis room?” Piti asked, his right eye twitching.

  Heather stared at it. Clearly, the pressure of this case had pushed Brodoteau to the edge of sanity. What was worse, they still didn’t have any real indication who’d committed the crime.

  “Um, no?” Ryan replied. “We haven’t broken anything.”

  “No, no, americain stupide.” Piti massaged his sweaty wrinkles forehead, then flicked his hand out towards Ryan. “Did you break into ze room. Zis room?”

  “Oh,” Ryan replied, “that’s affirmative.” He swallowed and laughed. “I mean, yes, we did break into this room, but it was only to –”

  “Ze details are unimportant. You break the room, you go to jail. Seemple.” Piti rubbed his palms together. “I wait for this since moment I see you two.” He narrowed his eyes at Amy. “And you, ze champagne pour
er.”

  Heather pursed her lips, heart pounding away. The red bedspread, the white sheets and grand headboard. The lamps and decorations. All of it was a thin façade which covered the nastiness of this situation.

  “Fine, you can arrest Ryan and me, but leave Amy out of this. She didn’t break into the room, she just came looking for us afterwards.”

  Piti frowned again, but thankfully he didn’t massage his sweaty head again. “Zere is a witness who knows ze truth,” he replied. “You are all under –”

  Another officer hurried into the room and grabbed Piti’s arm.

  The detective shrugged him off, his mouth turning down at the corners. “Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage!”

  Heather snorted.

  “What did he say?” Ryan asked.

  “He said he has the brain of a cheese sandwich,” she said. The situation was dire, but she couldn’t help laugh at that.

  Piti glared daggers at them, then turned to the officer who had interrupted. “Oui?”

  They had a hushed conversation in French, and Piti became agitated. He pointed at Heather and Ryan, then jabbed his finger towards Amy. Dave growled and barked, and they all shushed him.

  “C’est impossible,” Piti grunted, loudly and shook his head.

  But whatever the officer had come to say, he was insistent. He showed Piti Brodoteau a piece of paper, and the detective snatched it from his grip and brought it close to his face, so close in fact that his greasy nose grazed the page.

  A moment of silence and then Piti erupted. “Bien!” He thrust the page back at the officer, who scuttled out of the room.

  He turned on the trio, his bottom lip trembling and that twitch in his eyes firing at a rapid rate. It looked like a continuous wink.

  “You are free to go,” he said, and gestured towards the door.

  “What?!” Heather asked. “How, why?”

  “Do we really want to be asking questions, right now?” Amy whispered. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  “Do as ze girl says,” Piti uttered. He sniffed and twitched again.

  “No, I want to know what’s going on. And what’s going to happen to Angelica.”

  “Zis Angelica is already back in ze American States. You have ze friends in high places. Now go. Get out ze sight of mine. Go!” Brodoteau was clearly about to explode for a second time.

  Ryan grasped Heather’s arm and whispered in her ear, “Live today, fight tomorrow.”

  They hurried out of room 212 and down the hall, not daring to look back in case Piti decided to follow and arrest them after all. They crashed into Amy and Heather’s shared bedroom a few minutes later.

  “What on earth was that about?” Heather asked. “What was on that paper.”

  Amy placed Dave on the floor, and he scampered to the doggy pillow in the corner and climbed into it. He curled up with a snuffling sigh and shut his eyes. It’d been a rough dog gone day in doggy land.

  “I don’t know but –”

  Amy gasped and held her phone aloft. “I know what happened. Kent just messaged me. He managed to get all the charges dropped against Angelica. She was extradited back to the states and they closed the case.”

  “What? How in heaven’s name did he manage that?” Heather asked. Even Ryan looked as if he’d been hit in the face with a lemon meringue pie.

  “I tried to tell you the other day, Kent’s a high-end lawyer. A district attorney, actually, and he’s got quite a few connections high up. I had no idea they were this high up.” Amy read the text messages on her phone and focused on them again a second later. “Apparently, he liaised with our embassy here in France and brought down fire. He threatened to have the French police up for arresting Angelica, because they broke the chain of evidence. They were supposed to clean up the crime scene and room 212.”

  “Wow,” Heather whispered.

  “Yeah, they didn’t have enough evidence to arrest her. Since the chain of evidence was already broken, they couldn’t do anything to us for breaking it even more. The case is closed, at least for Angelica.”

  “That’s great and everything, a big relief,” Heather said, “but what does that mean for Jane? Are they actually going to try catch her killer?”

  “I don’t know,” Amy said, and frowned. “I’ll phone Kent and ask him for more information.”

  Heather sighed. Serendipity had worked in their favor this time, thanks to Kent getting the case thrown right out of court, but that didn’t mean it was over.

  They still had to find the killer. And Heather’s wedding was only a few days away.

  Chapter 15

  Heather stood in the kitchen, late at night, after it had finally closed and all the guests of the Saint James were asleep. Augustin had been a little more lenient after discovering that Angelica was innocent and had been sent back to the States.

  He seemed uplifted now that the case was closed. His hotel could back to functioning normally, and that meant that he would allow the minor – great, according to him – inconvenience of Heather banging her American thumbs in his kitchen.

  “The French have the strangest sayings,” Heather said, and mixed the icing for the Lemon Chiffon crueller donuts.

  “Oh, I don’t know, it’s starting to grow on me.” Amy sat at one of the counters, watching Heather work her magic and fiddling with the small, white bottle of fake tears that Lori Lisalot had dropped at the memorial dinner.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to miss cheesy Augustin and the nosy Brodoteau.”

  “Oh no, of course not, but Paris is beautiful and in between the case and Angelica’s arrest, we have managed to see a few things and enjoy ourselves to a certain extent.”

  Heather chuckled and brandished a frosting-covered spoon. “You’re only saying that because of your rose-tinted, lovey dovey glasses. Which reminds me, is Kent coming back for the wedding?”

  “Yes,” Amy said, with a happy sigh. “He’s coming to be my date and celebrate with you guys.”

  “Wonderful, we’ll be happy to have him.” Heather carried on working the icing, but her thoughts wouldn’t stay on the wedding and the donuts she desperately wanted to prepare herself. They were one of the most important parts of the ceremony, and she had to get them right.

  All she could think of was Jane’s true murderer.

  “You’re still obsessing, aren’t you?” Amy asked, twisting the cap on the fake tears opened and closed.

  She’d taken to carrying them around and playing with the bottle. She said it helped her thought process. Because Amy was just as determined to get to the bottom of this murder as Heather was.

  “You could say that. I just don’t want Jane’s murderer to get away with this, and I’m sure they’re still around.” Heather pushed the bowl to one side and eyed it out. “I mean, what’s to say they won’t try killing one of us next?”

  “I thought about that too,” Amy said, nodding.

  Heather picked up the scent of almonds and wrinkled her nose. “Right? We’re only lucky that Angelica didn’t try to taste the icing after the killer had poisoned it.” She shuddered, then rubbed her forearms.

  The smell of the donuts was warm and welcoming, but she kept picking up that almond scent. Which was strange, since she’d only added nutmeg to the batter. Heather walked to the massive oven and peered through the glass, at her baking babies.

  They looked crisp and perfect. The timer went off, so Heather slipped on some oven mitts, opened the door, then removed the trays and placed them on one of the counters.

  They were golden brown, crinkled just as cruellers should be, and steaming lightly.

  She inserted the next row of trays. There was nothing as rewarding and therapeutic as baking these donuts.

  Sure, she couldn’t bake a chocolate cake to save her life, but donuts, oh boy, she was the master, if she did say so, or rather, think so herself.

  “Do you want to go over the facts again?” Amy asked.

  “Yes, let’s do that.
” Heather said, walking back to her spot at the counter, because she couldn’t ice the donuts while they were hot.

  “Bear was actually in love with Jane, but betrayed her after her death. He smoked, and we know the killer most likely smoked,” Amy said, ticking the facts off on her fingers, using the fake tear drop bottle as a pointer. “And he clearly wanted us to stop investigating, since he wanted us arrested.”

  “Then there’s the letter from Lori, who also smoked, and who resented Jane, and did the whole fake tears thing,” Heather said, eying the bottle. “Not that we know those are actually eye drops. Have you used them?”

  “No way, I just like fiddling with the bottle. Besides, it’s got a nice smell. Kinda like almonds, I like it,” Amy said, opening the bottle and sniffing at the cap. “I wonder if it’s some kind of calming medicine. Maybe I should take some.” She laughed as she said it and lifted the bottle higher.

  “No!” Heather yelled.

  Amy jerked and slapped the bottle down on the counter. She jumped off her chair and looked around. “What is it?”

  “I know that smell,” Heather said, and rushed over to her friend. “Go wash your hands in that sink, right away.” She took the cap from between Amy’s fingers, sniffed it and grimaced.

  She closed the bottle top.

  Amy hurried to the sink and did as she was told. “What on earth has gotten into you?”

  “These aren’t fake drops,” Heather said. She held the bottle aloft. “This is cyanide. I’d recognize the smell anywhere. Remember what happened to Christa Fordyce?”

  Amy trembled. “I’ve been touching that all week. Oh my gosh.” She sucked in deep breaths.

  “Christa was poisoned with cyanide from a donut. One of my donuts.” Heather grasped her forehead and shook her head. “I should’ve known. I should’ve looked for the poison from the start.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” Amy asked.

  “It’s time we pay Lori Lisalot a visit.”

  Chapter 16

  They had to wait until Lori Lisalot left her room, before they could go investigating.