“Right. Anyone would growl about that.” She scraped her spoon through the last remnants of her ice cream. “Wait a sec, Emily. Brent has your clothes?”
“It was all perfectly innocent.” But my face heated as if it hadn’t been. “He was outside with Dep while I showered and changed out of my possibly poisoned clothes.”
“Dep’s an excellent chaperone, of course,” she said sarcastically.
“She is.”
“And you were the one who immediately started talking about innocence. I never said anything about it one way or another.”
“Except in your tone.”
She jumped to her feet. “Is Brent coming over now?”
“In a few minutes.”
“I should go.”
“No, you shouldn’t. He’s also bringing the blanket that Scott commandeered for me out of your ambulance. You can have it back. Besides, Tom and I don’t keep that car here. How about, after Brent gives us the clothes and the blanket, you follow him? He can park the car in the garage behind Deputy Donut, and you can drive him back to his car or wherever he needs to go, and bring me the keys when you get a chance.”
She shook her head so decisively that the pink streaks became pink blurs. “Oh no, you don’t. Matchmake all you want between Scott and Misty, but leave me out of your plans and plots. When did you start coming up with such ridiculously convoluted schemes, anyway?”
I pretended to be hurt. “Just now.” She was right. The needless complications made my matchmaking much too obvious.
“I’m sure you can find another way of ending up with your Deputy Donut car in your Deputy Donut garage and your keys in your pocket. And I really do need to get up early in the morning. You can return the blanket to me another time.” She gave me a sly smile. “It’s fascinating that a detective is bringing your car and clothes back. Don’t they usually assign jobs like that to rookies?”
“Not when the detective has been itching to drive that car.”
Conceding that I might have a point, she left.
Brent showed up minutes later, still in the black outfit. Reaching across the cat rubbing against his ankles, he handed me a bag labeled with my name. “I’ll take your car over to Deputy Donut,” he offered, “and bring the keys in a few minutes. Want me to park it in the garage?”
“Yes, please. The garage door remote is clipped to the sun visor, and the button to close the door is outside on the right. Have you eaten?”
“I’m going home soon. I’ll grab something. Don’t you have to get up early?”
“Yes, but how about while you’re delivering my car and bringing back my keys, I’ll package some leftover lasagna for you?” There, Samantha, I thought, a nice, uncomplicated plan, with no matchmaking involved.
And Brent agreed to it, besides.
A few minutes later, he was back. Dep invited him to come in and stay, but he told her he had to walk back to work. I traded the lasagna for my keys.
He sniffed. “Thank you. You might have prevented a cop from starving. And you don’t owe me any donuts, either.”
“But come for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll cook.”
“If I can, which probably means if the chief gets the DCI to take over the investigation.”
I made a face.
He squeezed my shoulder with his free hand. “Take care, Em.” He let himself out.
I locked the door, put the clothes and blanket he’d brought into the laundry, and went to bed.
Around three, Misty texted me. She apologized for not answering sooner. She’d been working and hadn’t been able to check her phone.
I woke again to subtle tapping. On the table beside my bed, Dep was inserting her claws underneath my phone, lifting it slightly, and letting it drop. Again and again.
It was five to five.
“Aw, Dep,” I complained sleepily, “couldn’t you have given me that last five minutes?”
She jumped to the floor. “Meow.”
Grumbling, I turned off the alarm. I showered, put on my robe, and fed Dep, who was wide awake and ready for more mischief. I’d have coffee at work. Until then, the jalapeños in the Monterey Jack cheese in my omelet would have to jolt me out of my early-morning desire to doze. I put on my work uniform of clean black jeans and white shirt. I loved sweater weather, and the morning definitely called for a cozy sweater. I chose one that Jenn had knit from heavy teal yarn with wildly entangled cables wandering over it. Finally, I leashed Dep and we headed outside.
Dep pranced down the sidewalk ahead of me, stopping every so often when she was apparently pressured, by a force I couldn’t see, to pounce on mysterious objects that I also couldn’t see.
Tom’s SUV was in the parking lot behind Deputy Donut. I took Dep into the office, released her from her halter and leash, and flicked on the gas fireplace. Leaving Dep in her fun playground, I went into the dining area.
As far as I could tell, the hazmat guys had not undone any of the Jolly Cops’ meticulous cleaning. I walked behind the marble-topped sales and serving counter and into the kitchen. Tom waved his enormous marble rolling pin. “Morning, Emily! Happy Columbus Day!”
I returned his greeting without resorting to endangering anyone with rolling pins. Usually we made dough the evening before, but we hadn’t done that either of the past two evenings. I washed my hands and put on a clean apron and my spare Deputy Donut hat, and then while Tom cut donuts from plain dough, I made cruller and fritter batter. By the time that Tom mixed yeast dough and put it into the proofing cabinet to rise, the fresh oil that the Jolly Cops had put in the fryers had reached the right temperature, and Tom started frying the crullers, fritters, and unraised donuts.
Like all of our crockery at Deputy Donut, our creamers were off-white ironstone with our logo printed in black on them. I filled some with cream and others with milk and set them and the sugar bowls on tables. Then I hurried back to the kitchen and dipped warm fritters and crullers in glazes and sugar. As the donuts cooled, I frosted and decorated them.
By the time our first customers arrived, trays of pretty and delicious fried foods were in our glass-fronted display cabinet, and both the medium roast Colombian that we served every day and the day’s featured coffee, a fruity and aromatic Burundian medium-dark roast, were dripping into pots.
All morning, customers asked why we’d been closed the day before.
At first, I wasn’t sure what to say. Words like “arsenic” and “poison” were guaranteed to scare people. Besides, Brent had told me not to mention the white powder to anyone besides Scott and Tom. If Samantha hadn’t already heard about it from Brent and the hospital, I wouldn’t have discussed it with her.
I answered that something had come up. Then I had to assure everyone that neither Tom nor I had been ill.
As always, policemen came in for their breaks, and many of them bought donuts and coffee to carry back to the station. I eavesdropped when I could, but none of them seemed to be talking about the investigation into Roger’s death.
Halfway through the afternoon, I was pulling shots of espresso for a couple of honeymooning tourists. The front door opened. I turned my head toward it and nearly dropped a cup.
Two women were coming into Deputy Donut. They were the women who had asked Saturday night’s security guard how to reach the Happy Hopers Conference.
Chapter 12
I wondered if the two women had consulted each other before choosing their outfits Saturday night and this morning or if they always dressed in skinny pants or leggings, superhigh heels, and frilly tunics. The blonde appeared to be in her mid-forties. She was taller and wore her hair in long, relaxed curls similar to the way Jenn had worn hers underneath her veil, but while Jenn’s face was slender and animated, this woman’s face was round and calm. Her friend had lively brown eyes, a pointy nose and chin, a deep tan, and a short, tapered cap of dark hair. She was probably in her mid-thirties. Both women were slim. Maybe their goal achievement through shopping had brought them to Deputy Donut
to gain a few ounces.
The blonde was carrying her Happy Hopers Conference tote bag. Had she hidden arsenic in it on Saturday night, and was she bringing arsenic to Deputy Donut, perhaps to plant it for the police to find? Or did she have an enemy in our crowded café?
I wanted to run into the office and call Brent, or into the kitchen to tell Tom that possible poisoners were in our shop and that one of them had a large bag like the one she’d carried Saturday night.
First, I needed to deliver the espressos to the honeymooners. They asked for directions to Fallingbrook Falls. Keeping my eye on the Happy Hopers, I described the route.
The Happy Hopers settled themselves at a table near the office. Great. Whether I wanted to shut myself into the office and call Brent or go into the kitchen and tell Tom about the two women, I’d have to pass their table.
Maybe they wouldn’t notice me inching toward the office.
Unfortunately, becoming invisible was not among my skills. The blonde beckoned to me.
Dep sat up on the windowsill facing the dining area. She was not quite giving the Happy Hopers the evil eye through the glass.
Mentally rehearsing hollering evacuation instructions to Tom and our customers and then grabbing Dep and escaping, I put on a fake friendly smile and stopped at the women’s table. I thought I caught a whiff of that nostalgia-inducing potpourri. “What can I get you?” I asked. And then I wondered if I’d imagined the potpourri or if the aromas of coffee, spices, and donuts had overwhelmed it.
The brunette gazed toward the display case. From this angle, she couldn’t get a good look at many of the donuts, but she would be able to see enough to tempt anyone. Her mouth opened. Slowly, she raised one finger, tentatively aiming it toward the display case.
“Certified organic green tea,” the blonde answered firmly, “if you have it.”
“We do,” I said.
The brunette slumped a little and dropped her hand into her lap. “Same for me.”
“What can I get you to eat?” I asked.
“Nothing,” the blonde said.
“Nothing,” her companion repeated, not sounding entirely happy.
I brought the women a pot of just-boiled water, mugs, and loose tea in infusers. The blonde put her infuser in the cup and poured water over it. She stared over rising steam toward the top of my head. “Wherever did you get your hats?”
Hats, plural? Last I knew, I was wearing only one.
The wall separating the kitchen from the dining area was only shoulder height—my shoulder, not Tom’s—so she could have seen Tom’s head when she came in.
However, if she was the person who had covered the saucer of arsenic with my hat, she could have guessed that the hat would have been taken into police custody, and that I had to be wearing a spare.
I kept my face as neutral as possible. “We order blank ones from a uniform supply company, and artisans at The Craft Croft make faux-fur donuts to glue on them.”
The brunette spoke up. “Does some of the artwork on your walls come from The Craft Croft? I go in there often, and I think I recognize some of the artists.”
“All of it comes from The Craft Croft, and it’s for sale.”
The blonde nodded approvingly. “When we saw your car and your hat, we knew you had good marketing ideas. And we remembered the name of your shop from that antique police car. It was easy to track you down.”
Track me down? Not sure how to respond, I smiled.
The blonde asked me, “Do you own your own business?”
“It’s a partnership with Tom Westhill. He and I designed our logo and planned the car’s and the hats’ whimsical decorations together, so I can’t take all of the credit. Or the blame. He used to be police chief here in Fallingbrook.” There. Maybe the two women would realize that flinging arsenic around Deputy Donut might not go unnoticed.
The brunette stirred her tea with the infuser. “That name does sound familiar.”
I was always a little surprised when people didn’t recognize Tom’s name. He’d been a very popular police chief. I reminded myself that people in the area who had never been in trouble with the law might not know who he was.
The blonde scooted forward. “Here’s why we wanted to talk to you. Once a month, I sponsor a program featuring a female entrepreneur. The women tell us how they got started and, you know, give out tips, things like that. You have such clever ideas—the hats and the car and your logo—that I’m sure everyone could learn a lot from you, and with your apparent sense of humor, you’d probably keep the audience’s interest, too. You wouldn’t be paid, but you’d get lots of exposure for your business. And you would be our guest at dinner. We serve health food.” Maybe I’d mistaken a practiced lack of expression for serenity. Her round face and smooth complexion gave an impression of calm, but she’d become very intense, and I suspected that those brown eyes didn’t miss much.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat anything those two women might have a part in preparing, however. “That sounds like fun,” I said, not quite truthfully. “I get up at five in the morning, though, and I seldom stay up late.”
The blonde shook her head. “We never go on very long. You’d hardly be out later than when we saw you Saturday night.”
I’d last seen them when I arrived at Little Lake Lodge with the donuts, just before ten on Saturday night, but maybe they’d seen me after that. Hoping they’d tell me how long they’d stayed at Little Lake Lodge, I said, “That was pretty late.”
The blonde lifted the infuser from her cup and clinked it down on her saucer. “Was it? We left around . . .” She turned to her companion. “When was it, about ten thirty?”
The other woman tilted her head as if trying to remember. “Ten thirty, quarter to eleven, something like that.”
If they were telling the truth, they left the lodge long before someone hid arsenic underneath my hat. Maybe I’d be able to figure out if they were lying if I wheedled more information from them. “You asked the security guard how to get to your conference from the delivery entrance, and he told you to go around to the front. I discovered later that the lodge has a peculiar floor plan. Did you ever find your way to your meeting?”
The brunette said, “We knew the long way around, but we wondered if there was a shortcut. We were wearing heels and had been on our feet a lot.”
But after you asked him about the possible shortcut, you stood around outside in those heels while I went to my car and gathered more things, and it wasn’t until you saw me coming back that you headed toward the lobby. And it appeared to me that you left the delivery entrance because you spotted me returning to it....
The blonde added, “We discussed our options and decided not to go back to the conference.” Okay, maybe that explained why they’d hung around the delivery entrance longer than seemed necessary.
However, the first time I’d encountered them, they were walking down the driveway from the staff parking lot. But when they left the delivery entrance, they’d gone toward the front of the lodge. Had they been heading toward the conference that they’d just decided to avoid? Or toward their cars in the main lot? But if they’d parked in the main lot, where most of the lodge guests and other conference attendees supposedly parked, what had they been doing in the staff parking lot just before ten? I tried to keep my doubts and questions from showing on my face.
The blonde explained, “That conference wasn’t meeting our expectations.”
Her friend nodded vigorously. “They promised we could achieve goals through shopping, and if anyone likes retail therapy, it’s me. But it turned out that what the conference organizers meant was that we could buy stuff from them, and it was horrible stuff! Just cheap gewgaws that no one would want.”
The blonde scowled. “It was one of those multilevel marketing schemes. We were supposed to buy merchandise from them and sell it to other people, and everyone above us on the pyramid would take a cut. Great if you’re at the top of the pyramid, but crushing if you’re at
the bottom.”
The brunette tasted her tea. “Bleah.” Obviously flustered, she backpedaled. “I didn’t mean ‘bleah’ about the tea. It’s good. I meant ‘bleah’ about the multilevel marketing scheme and the stuff that no one would want. I said it was cheap, but I didn’t mean that the prices were low. Far from it.”
The blonde said to me, “You were bringing donuts to the inn. Were you taking them to the wedding reception Saturday night?”
“Yes. People like letting their guests choose their own desserts. We made a wall with dowels sticking out of it, and we hung the donuts on the wall. It makes a decorating statement and it’s also cute and fun.”
“I knew it.” The blonde’s serene expression didn’t alter much. She tilted her chin down and raised her eyes to my face in a way that made me feel like I was being judged. “Your marketing ideas are creative.”
“We didn’t invent donut walls. The bride knew about them and asked if we could provide one. We painted it in her theme colors, and it turned out really well.” Until it didn’t . . .
The brunette dropped a bombshell. “We both know the groom.”
Know, not knew? Had they not heard of his death? Or were they pretending they hadn’t? I tried not to look like I was about to race away, slam myself into the office, and phone a detective.
The blonde’s serenity cracked again, but only for a second. She darted a quick sideways glance at her friend and then returned her almost-unreadable attention to me. “It was a total coincidence that we were attending a conference in the hotel where he was having his wedding reception.”
The brunette shook her head sadly. “Not a nice man,” she said.
The blonde folded her hands on the table like someone who was completely relaxed. “True.” She leaned forward slightly, toward me. “I’ve been a life coach in Fallingbrook for years. That man came into town, claimed he’d lived here before, and offered to work as my intern for free. He said he had lots of connections here and he would help me build my client list. We’d work together to coach all the people he would bring to my practice. He really turned on the charm, and I accepted his offer. It worked for a while. He was nice as pie, and my clients began to trust him.”
Goodbye Cruller World Page 9