Cinnamon Crunch Murder

by Gillard, Susan

  “Ames, is everything okay at –”

  “So, this is the lovely Heather Shepherd,” a man said, from behind the register.

  Heather turned to face the front again, plastering up her customer smile. “Hi, how may I help you?”

  The guy wore a fancy black suit, his blonde hair, streaked gray, was coiffed to one side. “I’d like to invest in your store,” he said, flashing a smile.

  Heather blinked. Amy stopped making espressos. “At least by her dinner first.”

  The businessman chuckled, switching his gaze to Amy, then back to Heather. “I’ve heard a lot about this little store. And I’ve heard that you’re looking to expand in a really big way. I have the capital to help you do that.”

  “I don’t think this is the right place or time to discuss that,” Heather replied, still smiling, though her jaw hurt, now.

  “Then perhaps we could discuss this over coffee,” the guy replied. “Here’s my card.” The slip of vellum appeared at his fingertips as if by magic.

  Heather took it from him. “Thanks, I guess I’ll call you,” she said.

  He gave a mock salute, then turned and hurried out of the store.

  “That was weird,” Amy said, pumping out two lattes this time.

  “Right? Let’s find out who he was,” Heather said, turning the card over to spy the name on the back. “I don’t believe it.”

  “What?” Amy asked, pausing mid-latte creation.

  “It’s Ethan Gold. That was Goldie’s father. He’s probably one of the richest guys in Hillside, right now. Big in real estate. I’ve heard of him before.”

  “I haven’t,” Amy said, then shrugged. “He can’t be that important.”

  “That’s because you’re terrible with reading the local news. He bought up a massive section of land for development. The papers said he’s building apartments. Expansion in Hillside and all that.”

  “I’m going to miss the small town atmosphere,” Amy replied, finishing off the latte. “Besides, he seemed kind of sleazy to me. I don’t know if you can trust him. He might have an ulterior motive for coming in here.”

  The front door opened, the bell above it tinkled, and Detective Davidson stepped into the store, readjusting his belt. His gaze slipped between the customers and landed on Heather.

  “Uh-oh, here comes trouble,” Heather said, then spoke the next sentence out of the corner of her mouth. “Bail me out, will you?”

  “Don’t kid around about that,” Amy replied. “He looks serious.”

  Davidson clomped up to the counter, placed his fists on the surface, somehow avoiding the allure of the donuts beneath it, and glared into her eyes. “Mrs. Shepherd. You and I need to have a talk, right now.”

  “Of course, Detective. Feel free to come through to me office.”

  “Not here.” Davidson leaned back, lips twitching into a tight smile. “You’re coming down to the station. Now.”

  Maybe Heather would need bail money, after all.

  Chapter 10

  Detective Davidson had lost a lot of weight. The pants that’d fit snugly just two days ago were a little loose now. He hitched them up, then lowered himself into the steel chair across from Heather.

  She placed her forearms on the table, Goosebumps rising at the cool metal against her skin. “We couldn’t have had this discussion in my office? I told you I’m happy to cooperate, Detective. I don’t understand why we had to come all the way down here. It was unnecessary.”

  “Because I know what you did to my daughter,” Davidson said, under his breath. He glanced up at the camera in the corner, then cleared his throat. “I need more information from you, and this area provides a sterile environment. No interferences.”

  No interferences? If Ryan found out about this little sessions, he’d crash in here and cause a whole lot of trouble.

  He’d been growing more and more frustrated with the strange practices in the department of late.

  “That’s fine,” Heather replied, though getting into the back of a police car while her staff and customers looked on had been far from ‘fine’ in any sense of the word.

  “You mentioned that you visited Flight Florists on the morning of the murder. Explain what happened while you were there.”

  Heather sighed. This again? “I went with Amy and met up with Eva in the florists. We brought Cinnamon Crunch donuts because Eva wanted Tara to taste them.”

  “Right. And then what happened?” Davidson asked, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead, just below the hairline.

  “We chatted and had a few donuts.”

  “Where did you go afterward, why did you leave?” Davidson asked, scraping his chair closer to the table.

  Heather looked at the mirror – the window, actually – along the wall. “I needed to get back to Donut Delights to study for a test and to work. Geoff Lawless came in and made veiled threats towards me, so we left.”

  “Geoff Lawless,” Davidson said, then dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

  Heather frowned. She’d finally decided to tell the detective about the enemy baker, and he threw it aside that easily? This was worse than she’d feared.

  “Excuse me, but isn’t that a lead you should check out? Geoff was in Flighty Florists and stayed there after we’d left. That puts him closer to the murder than it does me.”

  “He has an alibi,” Davidson snapped. “We have footage of him withdrawing money from an ATM around the time of the murder.”

  “And I have an alibi too,” Heather replied. “I was with two of my friends at the time of the murder. Walking through the streets. I’m pretty sure someone would’ve seen us on the way back to Eva’s house.”

  “So, you went to Eva’s house prior to the store,” Davidson said, making a note on a pad, then shifting in his seat again.

  “This is ridiculous,” Heather said, throwing her hands up. “Did you check out my alibi? Have you done any legitimate police work at all since the start of this case?”

  “Don’t you challenge me,” Davidson growled.

  “I will challenge you. This is totally unethical. You have no evidence linking me to the crime because I’m innocent, yet you’re wasting police time and money by bringing me in here.” Heather’s body had gone hot from the tips of her toes to her crown. A channel of anger flowed through her.

  “Mrs. Shepherd, you’re free to go,” Davidson said, suddenly. “I’ve got all the information I need for now.”

  Heather scraped the steel chair across the linoleum and stood straight as a pole. She’d studied long and hard enough to know that this man hadn’t followed proper protocol. “If you do this to me again, I will report you to your superiors.”

  Davidson shrugged and folded his arms. “You’ll be behind bars before you get to do that.”

  Heather’s jaw dropped. The sheer audacity of this man! She snapped it shut, ground her teeth, then turned and marched from the room.

  She had to get to the bottom of this before Davidson gathered enough conjecture and fake evidence to put her behind bars.

  Next stop, the offices of Ethan Gold.

  Chapter 11

  Heather sat across from Mr. Ethan Gold in a gold-bedecked boardroom. Talk about branding. This guy was the Midas of Hillside and proud of it. He stood beside a gold-trimmed coffee machine and poured a latte into a porcelain cup rimmed with gold leaf.

  “Can I get you anything there, little lady?” Gold asked, swishing his cup through the air – which, surprisingly, wasn’t speckled with gold dust or glitter.

  “No, and you can call me Heather, not little lady.” If he thought she was little, she’d have to whip out her Taser and dignify her size.

  “Right, Heather, I meant no offense.”

  “None taken,” she replied, patting her tote and feeling the outline of her non-lethal weapon of choice.

  “I’m glad you came,” Ethan replied, striding to his leather chair – the only item not colored gold in the entire room – then settling into it. “I
was afraid my forward approach yesterday might have put you off.”

  “I’m not here to discuss an investment, Mr. Gold. In fact, I’ll have to decline, politely, on that front.”

  Ethan swiped his fingers over his blonde sideburn, scratched, and then frowned. The words ‘do not compute’ came to mind. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m here to talk about your daughter, Mr. Gold, and Tara Davidson, as well. I have it on good authority that you’re invested in several real estate opportunities.”

  Ethan opened his mouth then shut it again. He reached for his coffee, touched the side, but didn’t pick up the cup.

  “My research tells me that you owned the building which Tara stayed in. Is that correct?”

  Ethan coughed. “Yes, that’s correct, but I don’t understand what this has to do with me. Or my daughter for that matter.”

  “Your daughter had a fight with Tara Davidson an hour before she died.” Heather placed her tote on the gold carpeting at her feet and shifted to the edge of her chair. “I want to make sure that the right person is brought to justice.”

  “My daughter wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “As I said, I want the right person brought to justice,” Heather replied. “Can you help me achieve that goal? I have a feeling that Detective Davidson is on a war path, and the minute he gets a whiff of that fight, Goldie’s going to be getting a lot of unwelcome visits from the Hillside police.”

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. His chest rose and fell, rapidly. “I own the building yes. And that’s how I know my daughter wasn’t as involved with Tara as you seem to think.”

  “How so?” Heather asked, folding her hands on top of the table.

  “Tara hung out with the wrong crowd. The, ahem, how do I put it politely, the disadvantaged crowd.”

  “You mean poor,” Heather said, in a monotone. Ethan sure didn’t know how to endear her to him. The kind of man who though money, and nothing else, talked.

  “Yes, those people. Tara would come home late and make loads of noise, and it irritated the other tenants. I had none stop complaints, some of which reached my ears. And you know it’s serious when it reaches the top of the chain, am I right?”

  Heather stared out of the window at the buildings across the street. Cars cruised down the road. People walked along the sidewalk. Everyone was happy, going about their business.

  “And Goldie didn’t hang out with the ‘wrong crowd,' you say?”

  “No, my Jasmine wouldn’t go near those folks. She knew what was good for her. She owns a boutique, you see, and she had –”

  “You’re aware that she was dating Foster Tombs?” Heather asked.

  Ethan pulled a face. “Yeah, she was dating him. I never liked that kid. He was a terrible football player.”

  “Foster wasn’t rich,” Heather replied. “In fact, he’d probably be classified as a member of the ‘wrong crowd’ as you put it.” Her barbed tongue was at it again.

  Ethan Gold finally picked up his coffee mug and slurped liquid from it. “I didn’t approve of the association. He was her weakness. But other than that, Goldie hardly ever saw Tara. I know because she was mostly at home.”

  “Goldie stayed at home?” The woman was past college age.

  “Yes, and I prefer it that way. Especially now, with a murderer on the loose,” Ethan replied, then shuddered and put down his cup. “This is a morbid topic of conversation, perhaps we should move onto lighter business. Like the expansion of Donut Delights. I’d be happy to invest. As much money as you need.”

  Heather stroked her forehead to smooth the wrinkles from her stern frown. Ethan Gold really thought he could bribe her into staying out of the way by investing in her store.

  “I already told you, Mr. Gold, I’m not interested in your investment. Thank you for the offer, though.” Heather rose from her seat and walked towards the door. “And thank you for your time. I think I’ve got all the information I need for now.”

  Which was not that much information at all. She’d have to call her bestie and do a thorough research session on the mysterious Goldie Gold.

  “Mrs. Shepherd,” Ethan said.

  Heather paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked back at him.

  “Be careful where you stick your nose, it might get broken.”

  Heather shrugged, even though her insides had twisted at the threat. “I guess it’s true what they say. Not all that glitters is gold.” And then she opened the door and walked into the hall, determination forming a solid ball in the center of her brain.

  She’d get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing she did.

  Chapter 12

  “Thanks for coming over on such short notice,” Heather said, holding the door for her bestie.

  Amy rolled her eyes and pranced into the house, grasping a box of donuts. “Oh yeah, it was a major imposition. How dare you call me when I have nothing to do at home?”

  Heather chuckled, but a sliver of worry wormed through her mind. Why was Amy home so often? She’d meant to ask her the other day, but then they’d been interrupted by Ethan Gold and his money bags.

  “So, what’s the story? We’re going to sleuth up a storm, I’m sure, but who’s the target?” Amy asked.

  Heather shut the front door and locked it. “Goldie Gold. I need to know more about the prodigal daughter. Her story didn’t add up. She purposely left out the apart about Foster dumping her just before Tara’s murder.”

  “Oh boy, the evidence is sure stacking up against the Queen of Gold. Ugh, not my usual caliber of joke, I apologize,” Amy said.

  Dave hurried around the corner from the living room and barked a circle around Amy’s legs. She bent and scratched between his ears, holding the donut box high overhead in case he got any smart ideas.

  “I figured we could do a standard Google Search, just check her out, you know?” Heather said, then led the way into the living room. She’d brought her laptop home from Donut Delights and set it up on the coffee table.

  Two sofa cushions sat beside the stalking station, and two cups of steaming coffee on coasters either side.

  Heather’s front window had been replaced the previous day, so the cool, evening breeze wormed through the window she’d cracked open earlier.

  “This looks like the lap of luxury,” Amy said, popping the donut box on the table and opening it immediately. An array of Donut Delights donuts rubbed their sugary sides against each other within. Cream topped, Choc Revolution, Strawberry-flavored, and the perfect range. Heather couldn’t have chosen them better herself.

  “Shall we get started? Ryan’s working late tonight, so we have hours of research time ahead of us.”

  Amy nodded and sank to one of the cushions, without taking a donut. She didn’t take up her coffee mug, either. “Heather? Why did you need my help for this?”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I know that you can do this kind of research on your own. So why did you really call me over?”

  Shoot, she couldn’t get a thing past her bestie. The woman was sharp as a tack.

  “Honestly?” Heather sat down as well, then placed a palm on the rug to brace herself. “I’m worried about you. You haven’t worked in weeks, Ames. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you and Kent okay?”

  “We’re fine. Kent and I are taking things slow,” Amy replied, and squared her shoulders. “As for work, well, here’s the truth: I was fired.”

  “What?! When? How did I not hear about this?”

  “I’ve been keeping it quiet. Kent’s the only one who knows, and he’ll never tell a soul. I just, after the whole breakdown with Honey and my fight with you, things took a turn for the worse. I got snappy. I said the wrong thing and yeah, they let me go. I don’t blame them. I needed time off.” Amy slid the coffee off the table and drank deeply. “It’s really okay. I’ve been taking time for me, and I’ve got some savings to dip into.”

  “I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry. I’ve been so involve
d with my own stuff that I didn’t think to ask sooner,” Heather said.

  “No ways, don’t worry about it,” Amy replied, waving it off. “Let’s focus on the case, instead. That really gets my creative juices flowing.”

  Heather gazed at her best friend. She’d always thought of Amy as a strong woman, but she’d never realized just how strong she was. She’d been through a lot . Lately, they both had, and Amy had risen to the challenge admirably, with her usual sense of style and humor.

  “C’mon, you’re freaking me out here,” Amy said, then tapped on the mouse pad. She pulled the laptop closer, then keyed in Goldie’s name. “Wait, what’s her full name?”

  “Jasmine Gold. Jasmine ‘Goldie’ Gold, I guess, would probably bring up the best results,” Heather replied, then squished closer to the screen.

  The besties rubbed shoulders, both wearing frowns of concentration.

  “Would you look at that,” Amy said.

  “She’s a co-owner of Tara’s building. What’s the name?” Heather squinted at the screen. She’d need to get reading glasses at this rate.

  “Paradise Villas.”

  “Murder in Paradise? Huh, she co-owns, she lives at home and has her own store. So she’d pretty much look after, money wise,” Heather said. “That couldn’t be a motivation for her.”

  “But wait, you said there were loads of complaints about Tara making noise in her apartment?”

  “Yeah, that’s what Ethan said. And Ryan mentioned the guys got called out to the disturbance the week before, but when they got there, it was all quiet.”

  Amy wriggled her eyebrows up and down. “Intriguing. What if Goldie got angry with Tara because her constant noise threatened her investment in the company?”

  “That’s a possible motive, I guess, but I think the whole 'Foster dumping her' seems like a stronger lead. After all, Goldie did have a fight with Tara right before it happened,” Heather replied.

  The fact that Goldie was an integral part of the Gold finances could be relevant, or maybe it wasn’t.