Maple Frosted Murder (Donut Hole 2)

by Susan Gillard

  “The victim was struck from behind. There was no plan to kill him, much less a plan to kill him next to the freezer so the killer could dump his body into it.”

  “So?”

  “So men who commit murder usually do so more violently. More purposefully. They’re more straightforward. They don’t strike from behind.”

  “Oh, really?” Amy challenged. “They don’t?”

  “I’m just telling you what the odds are,” Ryan said. “Obviously, men and women can kill in the same ways. But they usually don’t.”

  “So you knew Sheila was the killer,” Heather said. “But how did you know that she was lying about Rob’s being there?”

  “Instinct,” he said. “I knew she was violent. She was a murderer. And that little phone call of hers was just too opportune, too convenient. Something just didn’t feel right about it.”

  “I’m glad it didn’t,” Heather said fervently. She paused, thoughts swirling in her head, until one surfaced. “Would you really have shot her?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, meeting her gaze straight on. “If she had made one wrong move, I would have shot her.”

  Slowly, she nodded. He’d almost killed someone. To save her. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Amy let out a huge yawn and stretched her arms up above her head. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” she said, getting to her feet, “that’s it for me. Some of us have to work in the morning.”

  “I’ll see you to your car,” Ryan said, standing.

  “You’re both leaving?” Heather asked.

  “No, I’ll see Amy to her car and be right back.”

  “I’ll have my cell phone on tonight in case you need anything,” Amy said to Heather. “You just lie there and be the Queen of Sheba. Take it easy. Call me when you wake up in the morning.”

  “I will,” Heather promised. Amy leaned down to hug her, carefully avoiding Heather’s arm in its bright purple cast.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “All right, then,” Amy said. “Get some sleep.” She headed to the door with Ryan following.

  Ryan stepped out onto the porch with her. Heather heard them exchange a few words, then heard Amy’s steps going down off the porch. When a car started, and a horn beeped twice, Ryan came back inside and shut and locked the door.

  He sat down in the chair next to her and looked at her with such a serious gaze that it made her nervous. “What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I should have told you,” he said.

  “Told me what?”

  “Told you that I suspected Sheila.”

  “But you couldn’t. Look, I understand that you’re a police detective and I’m a civilian and you can’t tell me everything.”

  “My not telling you meant that you went rushing into a dangerous situation you could have avoided,” he said.

  “I think that was my lack of a caution gene that made me do that. It wasn’t you.”

  “And your desire to help.”

  “Yeah. That, too.” Heather found it ironic that she had rushed to the aid of someone who intended to kill her. She started to shake her head, but the stabs of pain convinced her that wasn’t a good idea.

  “Are you okay?” Ryan asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just have to remember not to shake my head.”

  “Speaking of which,” he said, “despite getting conked on the head, you still managed to reassess the situation, figure out what was going on, and come up with a plan. That’s what’s impressive.”

  “You really think so?”

  His right eyebrow rose. “I really do. If you dealt with some of the victims I deal with, you would realize how rare it is for someone to think clearly and purposefully when they’re under extreme pressure. Especially if they also have a concussion.”

  “I almost didn’t come up with a plan,” she said. “In fact, I couldn’t think of a thing except to stall her, until I saw those boxes of sausages in the freezer.”

  “But you came up with one when it counted,” he said.

  “Yeah. Thank God for those sausages.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but Crime Scene would have removed them when they examined the freezer.”

  “Then how did they get back in there?”

  “Crime Scene must have put them back. You’re lucky there wasn’t any evidence from Stan’s murder on them, or they would have been confiscated.”

  “Yikes,” she said.

  “You know,” Ryan said thoughtfully, “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard of a potential victim defending herself with a box of Lil’ Smokies.”

  “I bet,” Heather said.

  “Come to think of it, it’s also the first time I almost had to shoot someone over a rolling pin.” Ryan chuckled. “You should have heard what one of the Crime Scene guys said. He called me on my cell when I was up at the hospital. He says, ‘Are you kidding me? A rolling pin and a box of sausages are the weapons I’m supposed to process?’”

  Heather laughed, too. It felt good to feel life returning to a semblance of normal.

  “I’m going to let you get some rest,” Ryan said, slapping his palms against his thighs. “But, um…before I go, I’d like to ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  Ryan hesitated. Just then, Dave walked up to him, reached out a soft, pink tongue, and licked his hand. “Hey, buddy,” Ryan said. Then, to Heather, “Would you like me to take your dog out one last time?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Please. That would be nice.”

  “Here, Dave,” Ryan said, walking toward the back door. Dave followed him eagerly and darted outside the minute the door was open. Ryan stood half in, half out of the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, until Dave finished his business and came back inside.

  “Time for me to go,” Ryan said. “You need your rest. Are you going to sleep there on the couch, or do you need me to help you to your room?”

  “I’ll sleep right here. It’s pretty comfortable.”

  “All right, then. You take care of yourself. I’ll check in with you in the morning.”

  “So what were you going to ask me? Was that it? If I was going to sleep here or if I wanted you to let Dave out?”

  Ryan sighed. “No,” he said. “That wasn’t it.”

  He sat back down, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands together. Unclasped them. Leaned back. Sat up a little bit. “Heather…I’m not very good at this,” he said. “It’s been a long time. But I need an honest answer. And if you say no, that’s okay.”

  “An honest answer about what?”

  Ryan took a deep breath. “Would you like to go out with me?” he asked.

  His words hung in the air between them as a slow warmth started building in her chest. Did she want to go out with him? Yes. Yes, indeed.

  “You mean, like on a date?” she asked.

  “Yes. On a date.”

  As a smile began to pull at the corners of her lips, she saw Ryan begin to relax. A smile twitched at his lips, too.

  “Yes, I’d like to go out with you,” she said.

  “Great,” he said. “Great. How about I call you tomorrow and see how you’re feeling? If you’re feeling up to it, we can schedule—a date.”

  “I’ll be feeling up to going out with you by tomorrow evening,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. But I promise to be a good girl and rest all day long just to make sure.”

  “Do you like Italian food?”

  “Love it.”

  “Would you like to go to Giovanni’s?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Great,” he said again. “Okay, I’ll call you in the morning. And if you’re not feeling up to it, we can always reschedule.”

  “I don’t want to reschedule,” she said. “I want to go out tomorrow night. With you.”

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night,�
� Ryan said. “But I’m going to call in the morning and check on you anyway.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  He smiled then, and Heather realized, not for the first time, how good looking he was. Wow. Had she lucked out, or what?

  “I’ll let myself out,” he said. “Can I lock the door behind me without your having to get up?”

  “Just turn the little latch thingy.”

  “Will do,” he said. “Good night.”

  Heather waited until he was gone and she had heard the sound of his car starting and driving off down the street before she reached for her cell phone and punched in a number. A familiar voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Guess what?” Heather squealed. “Ryan asked me out!”

  Amy’s whoop of delight was so loud Heather had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Please tell me you said yes,” Amy begged.

  “Yes! I did! He’s taking me to Giovanni’s tomorrow night.”

  “Not bad,” Amy said approvingly. “Guess you better rest up, then. You’re liable to be even more sore in the morning.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Heather groused.

  “Can I help it if it’s true? But you should be fine if you rest, drink lots of fluids, and take your pain meds.”

  “Yes, Dr. Amy.”

  “Can I help it if I pick up things from TV? I watch lots of medical shows.”

  Heather stifled a yawn. “I’m pretty tired,” she said. “I’m going to let you go and try to get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” Amy said. “After all, you’re going to have a big day tomorrow.”

  A big day indeed, Heather thought as she hung up the phone. A date with Detective Ryan Shepherd.

  She fluffed up her pillow and lay down, snuggling into a comfortable position with a smile. She’d taken many naps on this couch, and she expected to sleep just fine.

  And, due to Ryan’s invitation, to have sweet dreams.

  A letter from the Author

  To each and every one of my Amazing readers: I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think by leaving a review!

  I’ll be releasing another installment in two weeks so to stay in the loop (and to get free books and other fancy stuff) Join my Book club.

  Stay Curious,

  Susan Gillard