Admiring gorgeous sweaters, dresses, skirts, and jackets, I made it through the store to the back. Although I knew, from looking out our office windows, where their office was, I’d never before been inside it.
In addition to two desks at windows overlooking the parking lot, there was a kitchenette, complete with a double-burner hot plate, a coffeemaker, a microwave oven, a double sink, a half-size fridge, and a round table and four matching chairs, white like most of the room, including the shiny tile floor. The table was set with three lime green place mats and three dessert plates, three cups, and three saucers, all of the dishes dark blue. With a sparkly light fixture over the table and late-afternoon sunshine slanting in through the back windows, the office was bright and inviting.
Suzanne was hunched over a computer at one of the desks. Her back was to me, so she probably hadn’t heard me come in.
“Hi, Suzanne,” I said, “what an office!”
Suzanne pushed her chair back, stood up, and turned to face me. Apparently, it was dress-in-shades-of-brown day at Dressed to Kill. Suzanne was wearing a chocolate brown sweater, matching cords, and brown shoes or boots with white and yellow daisies printed on them.
For Tom and me, every day at Deputy Donut was dress-in-black-and-white day. I was in my usual Deputy Donut uniform of black jeans and white shirt. I’d removed the cute apron and funny hat and put on a warm red cardigan that I’d bought at Dressed to Kill.
A pencil was poking out of Suzanne’s hair above her ear. She pulled the pencil out. “We had a kitchen built in here so we wouldn’t have to leave for meals.” She set the pencil on the desk, carefully, like she was afraid of breaking the lead.
She and Jenn could have bought quick but not particularly well-balanced meals at Deputy Donut, like deep-fried jalapeño cheese nuggets with crullers for dessert, but except for Jenn’s brief foray earlier that morning, neither Suzanne nor Jenn had ever been inside Deputy Donut. But then, Dressed to Kill opened later in the mornings than we did and stayed open later in the evenings. Plus, according to Jenn, Suzanne worked nights, long after Deputy Donut closed. Jenn was by herself in their store most of the time and wouldn’t be able to leave.
Suzanne plugged in an electric teakettle.
“Here.” I set the box of donuts in the center of the table. “Maybe I should have brought them on a plate.”
“We can take them straight out of the box.” She opened it and looked inside.
I told her, “They’re green tea with lemon.”
“I’ll make green tea.”
“Yum.”
Maybe Suzanne had a tendency to smother Jenn, but she knew how to make tea. She poured hot water into a white teapot decorated with cobalt blue flowers, loaded a large infuser with green tea leaves, dumped the hot water out of the teapot, inserted the infuser, and poured freshly boiling water over it. She didn’t talk. She seemed to be concentrating on the steeping tea, but I was certain that something was bothering her, probably whatever had brought Jenn running into Deputy Donut that morning to ask for my help.
The bells at the front door jingled, and then Jenn breezed into the office. “Perfect timing!” She sounded perkier than she looked. “Thanks, Suzanne.”
Some women could flush prettily. Suzanne’s thin face became blotchy. “Emily brought donuts.”
Jenn gestured for me to take a seat at the table. “Thanks, Emily. And for coming over.”
I sat where I could see through the window above the sink and across the driveway to Deputy Donut. Seeing Tom’s and my shop from another perspective, even though it was only a brick wall and a sliver of office window, was kind of fun. I was proud of Deputy Donut and the satisfaction it gave us and our customers.
Suzanne poured tea into our cups and handed around a bowl of sugar and a plate of sliced lemon. She sat down with her back to the desks.
Jenn squeezed lemon into her tea. “We asked you over, Emily, because things have gone from horrible to even more horrible. That detective said Roger was poisoned. She seems to believe that I gave Roger crullers that were coated with arsenic instead of sugar.” Tears welled in her eyes. “But I didn’t!”
“I know,” I said. Jenn had been nervous about her wedding and about marrying Roger, but I could never imagine her killing him to end the marriage just hours after it began. I couldn’t imagine her killing anyone, period.
Follow the money, Brent had said. I hoped that my tinge of skepticism wasn’t showing on my face.
Suzanne spooned sugar out of the bowl and stirred it into her tea. “Of course you didn’t.” She set the spoon on her saucer. “Someone else did, and if the police have any sense, they’ll figure that out.” She turned to me. “But here’s what scares me even more than Jenn being falsely accused—whoever killed Roger might have been trying to kill Jenn. The doctors at the hospital said that Jenn fainted due to stress and shock, but what do they know? She could have been poisoned. And since someone didn’t succeed in killing Jenn then, he or she might try again.”
“Why would someone kill me?” Jenn wiped her eyes. “I don’t have enemies.”
Suzanne corrected her. “That you know of. Maybe someone didn’t like the sweater you sold her or hates this store for some reason. Maybe someone doesn’t like brides, or brides wearing strapless gowns, and you were their first attempted victim.”
Her theories sounded farfetched to me. However . . . “The crullers,” I said slowly. “They were on the dowels marked ‘Jenn.’ ”
Jenn sniffled. “And Roger’s favorites, plain raised donuts coated with confectioners’ sugar, were on the dowels on his side of the donut wall. So why was he eating crullers? Someone made him do it?”
I had difficulty picturing anyone making Roger do anything, but Jenn had a theory. “Maybe he was trying to keep me from eating them. Maybe he tried one and it seemed off, so to protect me, he ate more of them.”
After the way that Roger had talked to Tom and me, I could more easily imagine the disagreeable groom tossing the crullers out and then going to the microphone and announcing to everyone that our donuts were terrible. Brent had told me that white arsenic was tasteless, so I doubted that it would have noticeably changed the flavor of the crullers.
I knew one thing for sure. Those crullers had been delicious when I took them to Little Lake Lodge.
I didn’t tell the two women that Brent had told me that crullers had also been stuffed into Roger’s pockets. Why would Roger have done that? He’d talked to Jenn in an insulting and demeaning way. Was gobbling and hiding her favorite crullers, effectively keeping her from eating them, a way of controlling his bride? I asked, “What makes you believe the police think you killed Roger, Jenn?”
“The questions the detective asked, about Roger’s money and his will and what I plan to do with the money I’m supposedly going to inherit from him. Insinuations. And she outright said that in her experience, murderers were often spouses.”
I bit into my donut. Inside, its color outdid the lime green place mats. It tasted exactly the way I’d intended, green tea with a hint of lemon in the glaze. “That detective, was she Yvonne Passenmath?”
“Yes,” Jenn said. “A stubby, mean-looking woman with beady eyes.”
I tried not to laugh. “She’s taller than I am.”
Jenn smiled. “Nearly everyone is, Emily.” She took a bite of donut. “This is very green. Are these made with matcha?”
“Yes.”
Jenn stared at her donut. “Why is the powder from green tea leaves so much greener than the leaves themselves?”
“Focus,” Suzanne reminded us. She looked at me with, I thought, hope. “You solved one of that detective’s cases about a year ago.”
I didn’t like thinking about it and repressed a shudder. “Sort of.”
“You can help us solve this one, and save Jenn from whoever might have tried to kill her and might attempt it again.” Suzanne leaned back. “I’ve already figured out some clues.” She tapped one index finger on the other. “One�
��there were people hanging around the lodge Saturday night who didn’t seem to belong there, two women and a man dressed up like a security guard, but I wasn’t sure he was one. All three of them were outside the lodge’s delivery entrance.”
So . . . I hadn’t been the only one to notice them. “What time?” I asked.
“About nine. I had to go back out to my car to get Dressed to Kill business cards for aunts and cousins.”
I ran a finger along one side of the lime green place mat. “Were the two women and the security guard together?”
“The security guard was outside the door when I went to get the cards, and when I came back, he was gone, but the women were still there. I don’t know whether or not the three of them spent time together.”
I pointed out, “You said they were all outside the delivery entrance. Were they together then?”
Suzanne shook her head. “Not close together, and the women were talking to each other. The security guard didn’t seem to be part of the conversation, but I couldn’t be sure.” Her descriptions of the two women and the security guard weren’t very detailed, but they didn’t rule out Vanessa, April, and Gerald. She added, “A couple of days ago, I saw those two women get into a car behind Deputy Donut and drive away. And yesterday, I saw that security guard leave your shop, Emily. Do you know those people? Are they regulars?”
“None of them showed up in Deputy Donut until after the . . . tragedy.” I cast an apologetic look at Jenn. “On Saturday night before ten, I saw all three of them near the delivery entrance. I was driving my Deputy Donut car and wearing my Deputy Donut hat, and I told the guard I was from Deputy Donut, so they all knew where to find me.”
“Why would they want to do that?” Jenn demanded.
Her voice caustic, Suzanne answered, “To spy on you, Jenn. In case you’ve forgotten, our shop is next door to that donut shop.”
In case you’ve forgotten. Maybe Jenn hadn’t noticed Roger’s verbal abuse. Maybe she expected everyone who cared about her to make little digs like the one her half-sister made. But I didn’t have firsthand experience with siblings, let alone half-siblings. I asked Suzanne, “Do you think that the two women and the security guard might have acted together?” If they did, the police might be able to encourage one of them to confess and implicate the others.
Suzanne shrugged. “That’s what we need to find out.”
Jenn wrapped a hand around her cup. “But if three of them are after me, they could have three times as many chances to . . .” She looked about to cry. “To attack me?”
I offered, “This might help. I saw the two women together, both at Little Lake Lodge and at Deputy Donut, but the security guard seemed to be at Little Lake Lodge on his own. And he comes to Deputy Donut by himself, too.” I sipped my tea. It was delicious, made of high-quality tea leaves, and perfectly steeped.
Jenn’s lips twisted into something resembling a smile. “Three people might be after me, or two.” Her shoulders slumped. “Or maybe only one. Great.”
I set my cup into its saucer. “All three of them could be innocent, and coming to Deputy Donut to try to figure out who killed Roger. They all knew that I was there that night. And I brought the donuts. Maybe they suspect me.”
“Well, I don’t!” Jenn stated firmly.
I thanked her.
“One of those three people must have poisoned the donuts,” Suzanne concluded. “None of your wedding guests would have, Jenn.”
I immediately pictured the slightly amused Chad. At first, he’d seemed unconcerned about having broken up with Jenn, but a few minutes later, I’d gotten the impression that losing her to Roger was painful. Maybe he had planned that Roger wouldn’t survive the evening.
But Jenn had said he was a good friend, and I wasn’t about to say anything accusing about him in her presence. I was certain that Brent had not ruled out reception guests, and I knew he was scrutinizing every possible suspect, including Chad. And Jenn and Suzanne. And although Brent knew me well enough to be certain that I wasn’t a killer, Yvonne Passenmath would not fail to add me to her list of suspects, for all the good that would do her.
Maybe I was being foolishly optimistic.
Suzanne tapped one index finger down on the other again. “Two—we can try to figure out what combination of those two women and the security guard committed the crime, or if it was only one of them.” Tap. “Three—we need to find out a few things, like what they say on those TV shows. Who had the motive, the means, and the opportunity?”
I imagined Brent’s face if he heard this. Or what Alec might have said—they watch a crime show, and suddenly they’re experts. He might say it about me, also, I reminded myself, if he were alive and knew I was meeting with neighbors to try to solve a crime. I had not been and would not be interfering with the police investigation, however. Brent had asked me to relay any new information, and in the office of Dressed to Kill, I was merely being receptive to any new information that might come along.
I knew what April’s and Vanessa’s motives were, but unless Brent gave me permission, I wasn’t telling anyone besides Tom about those motives. But I had no idea what Gerald Stone’s motive might have been. There were a few things that I could tell Suzanne and Jenn, however, things that anyone could have observed on Saturday night. “All three of those people were carrying bags that could have concealed poison,” I said.
“I noticed that,” Suzanne said. “The guard had a briefcase, and the women had bags from some conference.”
I added, “Yesterday at Deputy Donut, the blond woman gave me her business card.”
“Can I see it?” Suzanne asked.
“I don’t have it with me. Her name’s Vanessa Legghaupt. She works as a life coach.”
In one smooth motion, Suzanne snapped her fingers and then pointed her index finger like a revolver at me. “Aha! Roger was a life coach. This Vanessa person was probably jealous of him, afraid he’d take business away from her, or something.”
According to Vanessa, Roger had stolen clients. I didn’t say it, though. For all I knew, Vanessa and April had made it all up or had reversed the story, making Roger look like the client-thieving culprit, when Vanessa was the actual thief. I leaned toward believing Vanessa’s and April’s stories about Roger, however. I’d seen Roger’s sneering and snarling personality. And although it was hard to picture, I had to believe that Roger could have acted as charming at first as Vanessa and April had claimed. If he hadn’t been able to turn on the charm, Jenn would probably never have gone out with him, let alone agreed to marry him.
Suzanne topped up my teacup. “Can you come over and tell us if those two women visit Deputy Donut again?”
“We usually have a shop full of customers, so I need to be there during business hours. Tom does most of the work in the kitchen while I’m usually the waitstaff, but we both pitch in where we’re needed. But Vanessa’s friend said she loved to shop. If I see them heading toward Dressed to Kill, I’ll phone to warn you.”
Suzanne asked, “Do you have our number?”
“Give it to me?” She did, and I programmed it into my phone.
Jenn polished off a donut and wiped her fingers on her napkin.
Suzanne lifted the lid of the teapot and peeked inside. “What time of day do those two women usually come in, Emily?”
“They’ve come in twice, around mid-afternoon. The security guard came in about ten thirty, both this morning and yesterday. But, you know, people who aren’t in law enforcement can’t interfere with a police investigation.”
Suzanne lowered the lid of the teapot. “I’m not going to interfere, but I can’t just sit here and let the police build a case against my sister. Or let a killer remain free to poison her.”
Jenn drained her cup. “It won’t come to that, Suzanne.” She said it soothingly.
“Always the idealist.” Clearing the table, Suzanne whisked my full cup away. Maybe she thought I didn’t like it, when I’d actually been waiting for it to cool a litt
le.
I stood, too. “I’d better go rescue my cat. Thanks for inviting me over.”
Suzanne started running water in the sink. “Come back tomorrow after you close, and I’ll let you know what else I find out.”
“Okay.” I started toward the front of the store.
Jenn leaped up from her chair. “Wouldn’t the back way be faster?” She opened a windowless steel-clad door at the rear of the hallway next to the office wall.
I thanked her. “It would.”
She smiled, but I could see the sadness lurking in her eyes. “Any time. And come to the back door again tomorrow. It seems more neighborly, somehow.” Her smile became more genuine.
I smiled back. “I’ll bring donuts, but I don’t promise not to wander around among your wonderful merchandise.”
“You’ve already been doing a good job of keeping us in business, almost by yourself.”
“Your sweaters,” I said, “are to die for.” My cheeks heated. “Oh, sorry.”
“That reminds me,” she said. “I never should have called the shop Dressed to Kill. I’m thinking of changing the name. If you come up with any ideas, I’d be glad to hear them.”
I loved Jenn’s sweaters. The first name that popped into my mind was Dressed to Sweat.
I managed not to say it.
I went back to Deputy Donut and retrieved Dep. We walked home in the warm light of the setting sun. I fed Dep and made myself a delicious salad of Boston lettuce, dried cranberries, crumbled feta, and walnuts. I started a load of laundry and then sat down in my comfy wing chair. I thought I would read, and I thought Dep would join me.
Dep, however, kept going to the front door and pawing at it. I asked her, “Are you in a snit because I left you in your fun playground for an extra hour this evening?”
She turned her back on me.
I reminded her, “We don’t invite company over every night.”
The baleful look she gave me over her shoulder said that seeing Misty in the donut shop had made Dep miss her more than ever.
“And I didn’t learn anything new to tell Brent,” I informed the impertinent cat. “We need him to solve a murder, and not waste time with us.”
Goodbye Cruller World Page 15