Cinnamon Crunch Murder

by Gillard, Susan

  “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Detective. That or lay a charge against you for harassment.” Heather grasped her phone from beside her laptop and lifted it. She swiped her thumb across the screen, and then hovered her index above it, as if to dial.

  She met Davidson’s gaze, head on.

  “This isn’t over, Mrs. Shepherd. Not by a long shot.” And then Davidson barged out of her office as quickly as he’d come in.

  Heather breathed slowly, in and out, in and out, practicing some of the yoga breathing exercises Amy had taught her.

  Angelica stuck her head around the corner. “You okay, boss? Want a donut? Milkshake?”

  “A strong coffee and a Cinnamon Crunch, please, Angelica. I’ve got a lot of thinking to do,” Heather said. She settled back into her chair and rested her fingertips on her forehead.

  This was another case which was unavoidable. She hadn’t bothered telling Davidson about Geoff Lawless’ appearance in Flighty Florist. Davidson had already made his mind up about her, and if it was true that Ryan was off the case, then nothing stood in his path.

  He’d find whatever evidence was relevant and lock her up before she could say, “Buttercream is better than fondant.”

  Nope, this was up to her. Regardless of what Davidson thought, his daughter’s killer was still out there, and the longer they were, the more likely it was that they’d strike again.

  “One coffee for the boss,” Angelica said, sweeping through the doorway and depositing the latte on the desk, then placing a donut beside it on a plain white napkin.

  “Thanks, Ange. You’d better keep ‘em coming. It’s going to be a long night,” Heather said, staring at the screen of her laptop.

  Chapter 4

  “Her name is Goldie Gold,” the woman said, behind her hand.

  Heather jumped and turned to her, clutching the purse to her chest. The boutique was the most exclusive in Hillside, stocking only the best in designer fashion.

  “Goldie Gold?” Heather asked.

  “Her first name is something like Jasmine or the other, but her nickname is Goldie,” the woman replied, flicking her red hair back. “Isn’t she fabulous?”

  Goldie was fabulous. Long, honey-colored hair and bright red lipstick perfectly applied makeup which was subtle and accented with gold highlights. She was the reason Heather had come to the store in the first place.

  Amy had called her from Eva’s and given her the scoop of the Mustang and the potential murderess, Goldie herself.

  Amy had recognized Eva’s description of her immediately, and as for the ‘Stang, that was a tale ‘too long’ for a phone convo.

  “Intriguing,” Heather muttered.

  “What did you say?” The nosy woman asked.

  “Nothing, nothing,” Heather said and readjusted the purse she’d chosen from the glass shelf. A Prada she had no intention of paying for.

  The line shortened, and the nerves bubbled around in the back of her brain. One step closer to her first interview of the case, and the stakes had never been higher.

  Cop cars stuck out like sore thumbs to her, now and she’d nearly run into one on her way out of Donut Delights. Apparently, Davidson was determined to follow through on his threats.

  The nosy woman in front of her stepped up to the counter. “Hi, Goldie, how are you?” She gushed, simpering in a flowery tone she sure hadn’t used while talking to Heather.

  “Oh, hello, Patricia, how are you?” Goldie’s voice could’ve iced a ball of molten fudge.

  “I’m great, just great. Happy to see you in a better mood. I heard –”

  Goldie snatched the blouse from Patricia and checked the tag. “That will be two hundred dollars. Cash or credit?”

  Patricia fish-mouthed for a second. “Uh, credit.” She brought out a flashy silver card from the depths of her purse and placed the sliver of plastic on top of the counter.

  “Uh huh,” Goldie said, then picked it up and rang up the purchase. Clearly, she wasn’t in the talking mood. That didn’t bode well for Heather.

  Then again, Heather Shepherd didn’t usually take no for an answer.

  If this was Goldie’s ‘better mood’ according to Patricia, then she’d hate to see her on a bad day. Goldie was young and beautiful, but those were the extent of her gifts, so far.

  Patricia tapped her fuchsia nails on the counter top.

  Goldie gave her another of her ice ball looks.

  The tapping stopped. Patricia accepted a gold-embossed shopping bag from Goldie, grabbed her credit card and dashed out the front door without a goodbye.

  Heather watched her disappear into the depths of a fancy sports car and zoom off down the road, a second later.

  Goldie cleared her throat. “Uh, hello? I don’t have all day, here.”

  Heather turned to the younger woman with a straight face. “Are you upset about your friend’s death?”

  Goldie froze, fingers still reaching for the purse in Heather’s arms. “What did you just say?”

  “I asked you if you’re upset about Tara Davidson’s death,” Heather replied. “I have it on good authority that you visited her shortly before it happened.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Goldie replied, through a clenched jaw.

  Heather had a gift: judging characters, reading how to talk to them and figure out what made them tick. At least, that was what she liked to believe. And Goldie was the typical spoiled rich kid.

  She kinda reminded Heather of her late high school buddy, Cherry.

  “Get out of here,” Goldie hissed.

  “No. I’m conducting a private investigation.” Heather sighed and tossed the purse aside.

  Goldie gasped as if she’d been struck.

  “Let me explain something, Goldie. You don’t have to answer my questions, but it would be a lot better for you if you did. My husband is a detective at Hillside PD.” A name drop she probably couldn’t afford.

  Davidson would find out about that.

  Goldie stared at her, expression a blank page. She hardly breathed for a moment. Then her face crumpled into an image of grief. Tears dropped from her lids and splatted onto the glass counter, displaying Hermes scarves below.

  “I would never hurt her. I didn’t mean to fight with her. She just made me so angry.”

  “What happened?” Heather asked, readjusting her handbag.

  “She was always flirting with him!” Goldie exploded, then grabbed one of the scarves under the counter and dabbed beneath her eyes to stem the flow of mascara and tears.

  “With who?”

  Goldie sobbed a while, then cleared her throat and focused on Heather again. “Foster. My boyfriend. They were always flirting and hanging out behind my back.”

  “And that made you angry,” Heather said.

  “Yeah, duh, it made me angry. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever hurt Tara. She was, like, my best friend in the entire world.” Goldie chewed the corner of her lip and sniffed. “But Foster, I haven’t heard from him since yesterday morning right before it, before Tara –”

  “You haven’t heard from him?”

  “No. I even went to his place this morning, and he wasn’t there. Like at all. Hold on a sec,” Goldie said, then swished a finger through the air, and then disappeared into a back room.

  She returned a few seconds later, clutching a piece of paper. She placed it on the glass counter, and then folded her arms.

  A couple’s picture stared up at Heather. Goldie wrapped in the arms of a hunky dude with the typical ‘jock’ look.

  “This is Foster,” Goldie said, tapping the picture with a gold fingernail. “That’s my boyfriend. Or he was before he up and disappeared. Just find him. He might have the answers you’re looking for.”

  Chapter 5

  Randy’s Burger Bar had changed since Heather had last visited. The place was practically empty, which was kinda weird for a usually busy Friday night. Those few patrons at the stark wood tables kept th
eir noise to a minimum. Even the clink of cutlery had a muted quality.

  “Some place,” Ryan said.

  “The burgers are good, though. That’s all that counts.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ryan replied, then grasped her hand and held it to his lips. “Sorry, babe, I’m just in a terrible mood.”

  “Davidson?” Heather asked, uttering the ‘magic’ name which would surely put her husband in a bad mood.

  “Do I even need to say yes?” Ryan slurped milkshake from his straw, the pink swirl shooting up the tube and disappearing between his lips. “My hands are tied on the case. Shoot, I’m not even on the case.” He huffed out a sigh.

  “I don’t get it,” Heather said. “How can they have Davidson on the case when his daughter is the victim? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It’s totally against protocol,” Ryan replied. “It’s like Davidson has some hold over the Captain. Whatever Davidson says, goes around the station and becomes a new kind of law.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” Heather said.

  “It is dangerous. If it carries on this way, I might have to… Nah, I don’t even want to say it.”

  Heather got up from her seat, circled the table and sat down beside her husband. She placed her head on his shoulder, and he snuggled closer to her. Like two teenagers on their first ever date.

  “It’s going to turn out all right, honey,” Heather said, softly.

  Ryan grunted by way of a reply.

  Heather sat up straight and looked him in the eye. “Wait, so you’re not working the case?”

  “I know what you’re thinking, and usually, I’d tell you to stay out of it, you’ve got a test tomorrow and so on, but yeah, Davidson’s weird interference changes a lot. Tell me what you’ve found out.”

  Heather grinned broadly and hurried back to her side of the booth. She brought Foster and Goldie’s picture out of her handbag and slid it across the table. “I spoke to Goldie Gold, today. She’s the girl who had a fight with Tara, right before she died. According to Eva, I mean, and I would trust Eva with my life.”

  “Goldie Gold? What a name.”

  “It’s a nickname. But yeah, she’s kind of like the female version of Richie Rich and way more spoiled,” Heather replied. She grasped her soda and drank some of it, then licked the sweetness off her lips. “She said she’d never hurt Tara because they were best friends.”

  “Of course, she did,” Ryan replied, picking up the picture and examining it.

  “But, she mentioned that this Foster guy was flirting with Tara and that she hadn’t seen him since before the murder.” Heather shuddered. “He’s my best lead. Ugh, I can’t get over how this one happened. A stabbing seems so brutal.”

  “It is brutal. They found black gloves at the scene, just FYI. Correction, they found one black glove. The other is missing,” Ryan said, and then put the picture back on the table.

  The waitress arrived with their double cheeseburgers – extra bacon for both, hold the onions – and they took the opportunity to focus on food rather than the death of a young woman who’d seemed pretty much angelic for all intents and purposes.

  Heather put her half-eaten burger back on the plate, took a sip of soda, and then dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

  “Do you have any other info I might be able to use?”

  Ryan scrunched up his nose, still chewing. He swallowed and gestured with his burger. “Nope. They’ve taken me off the case, remember? Davidson’s orders.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Hmmm, well, there was one thing. The neighbor who lived above Tara used to complain a lot about her noise, consistently. But that’s a stretch. It was reported to the cops a week before the murder. I remember because the guys were irritated about having to go out there. They came back even angrier when there’d been no apparent disturbance at all.”

  Heather nodded. “All right, duly noted. I’ll check it out.”

  “The only thing you need to check out tonight and tomorrow, are those books. The course materials and the whatsits. I dunno whatever you call them. What time is your test?”

  “Oh, don’t worry; I stayed up all last night studying. Sometimes, I think the murder cases in Hillside provide the perfect case studies and examples for my studies.” Heather picked up her burger again. “It’s at 10 am. Still plenty of time to do one last revision.”

  They descended into an easy silencing, eating and smiling at each other from across the table. Warmth spread through Heather’s torso. Whenever she was with Ryan, she got the feeling that everything would be all right.

  “I almost forgot,” she said, “I saw Geoff Lawless at Flighty Florists just before the murder. He came into glare and be bearded and bald just as we were about to leave.”

  “Geoff Lawless,” Ryan said, “that’s interesting. I don’t know. I don’t see him as the murderer kind of guy.”

  “A very shrewd observation, detective,” Heather replied, choking out a laugh. “But he’s still an avenue I intend on investigating. Though, I’ll have to do it from afar. He seems to latch on to me and start making vague, baking related threats anytime I get too close.”

  Ryan nodded, and then cast a glance back at the door to the restaurant. The place had emptied out even more since they’d arrived.

  “Just be careful. I get the feeling that Davidson’s out to get his ‘man’ on this one. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Me? Hurt? How could I get hurt with you around, gorgeous?” Heather asked, then patted him on the arm, portraying confidence she didn’t feel.

  Sweat cropped up on the back of her neck. She glanced out the window and swallowed. A police cruiser had just pulled up and parked. The officer inside stared at the restaurant, unmoving.

  Chapter 6

  Heather hummed Here Comes the Sun, striding up the front stairs to her porch, keys out overcome with joy with having passed her test . She was seconds from jumping up and down, maybe letting out a wild whoop of success, but she contained it.

  Her neighbors would call the psych ward if she did a dance mid-stride. Especially after the whole ‘dead body on the porch’ thing.

  Heather unlocked her front door and let herself into the entrance hall.

  Dave trotted up to meet her, barking a greeting and wagging his tail in circles.

  “Hey, Davey, how are you today? I hope you’ve stayed out of the donuts.”

  Dave yapped his answers, ears perking up at the mention of his favorite treat.

  “You know what? You’ve lost a lot of weight lately. I’m in the mood to celebrate. Maybe I should get us a couple Cinnamon Crunches, and we’ll have ourselves a donut party.” Heather grinned and shut the door behind her, then locked it.

  She had to get back to Donut Delights now that her test was done. She had too many orders, online and otherwise, to take a day off for her test.

  Heather Shepherd would be the nation’s answer to delicious donut treats pretty darn soon.

  Dave licked her ankles, and Heather bent and picked him up, then stroked him on the back of the neck.

  “Things are looking up, Dave. Things are looking great. I’ll call Amy to bring the donuts before I head back to work.”

  Heather walked him through to the living room, and then placed him on his favorite spot on the sofa. She brought her cell out of her pocket, grinning at the text message from Ryan.

  I knew you’d pass. Love you. See you tonight, gorgeous.

  She’d messaged him the minute she’d got the results. The glory of online tests: instant pass or fail. Luckily, she had done her studying on this one.

  Heather sent Ryan a ‘love you’ back, then tapped through to her contacts and found Amy.

  She clicked the name and –

  Glass shattered into the living room. A heavy thump on the carpet. Dave barked, yelped, and then broke into a flurry of barking. Heather shrieked once, dropped her phone, and stumbled back a step.

  “What on earth?”

  Su
nlight streamed through the hole where her window had been. All that remained were jagged edges of the glass. Luckily, her cream curtains had been tied back.

  “How did it? Where did it?” Heather stammered. “Dave? Are you okay? Are you cut?”

  But Dave sat on the sofa, barking and growling at the street outside. Which was empty of cars and people.

  Heather hurried to him and checked him for wounds, but he was fine. By some miracle. He’d avoided the glass eruption, entirely. “Boy, somebody up there must like you, Dave,” Heather said.

  She spun on the spot, searching for the cause of the break. A bird maybe? Poor thing probably hadn’t seen it coming. But no, that brown lump on the carpet wasn’t a bird.

  It was a –

  “Brick? Oh my gosh, someone threw a brick through my window.” A cold child ran down Heather’s spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  She bent slowly, ignoring Dave’s frantic barks, and grabbed the brick. She raised it, turned it over in her hands and gasped. The gasp set Dave barking wildly again.

  Two words sprawled across the brick in permanent marker.

  STAY OUT.

  “That doesn’t even make sense.” Or did it? Someone had taken offense to her investigation. Goodness, she hadn’t even sleuthed around that much, yet.

  Heather bit her lip, and then bent and put the brick where she’d found it. She picked up her cellphone next.

  The tempered glass screen cover was cracked, but the screen behind it was still okay. She shot off a text to Ryan.

  Someone just threw a brick through our front window. No injuries. Please come home and take a look.

  Heather sighed and walked to Dave. She scooped him up, tucked him under her arm and carried him through to the entrance hall. “I don’t think it’s a good idea we go back in there, Dave,” Heather said. “And I’m not sure about those donuts now, either. Looks like things aren’t as perfect as I thought they were.”

  Dave whined and nibbled at her wrist.

  “Cut it out,” she said.

  They settled in for the wait, and sure enough, Ryan pulled up in his cruiser in no time.

  He darted up the front stairs, and Heather opened the door for him.