Goodbye Cruller World

by Ginger Bolton

  “I’m almost there.” Over the phone, I heard the soles of his shoes slapping pavement. Although Brent didn’t sound out of breath, he was apparently jogging. “Yvonne plans to block off the street in front of Dressed to Kill.”

  “Suzanne’s near the rear of the store.”

  “Patrol cars are on their way there.”

  “Let me out!” Suzanne screamed.

  “Not until you calm down!” Jenn yelled.

  Brent demanded, “Are you inside their shop, Em?”

  “I’m outside their back door.”

  “Emily, get away from there. Stay on the phone, go to Deputy Donut, and lock yourself in.”

  Surely, after all Suzanne had done to supposedly protect Jenn, she wouldn’t harm her little sister now. I strode across the driveway.

  A Fallingbrook Police Department cruiser squealed into the driveway. I ran up the steps of Deputy Donut’s back porch. Beyond the door, Dep meowed.

  Misty was driving the cruiser, with Hooligan beside her. My phone still in my hand, I waved toward the lot behind Dressed to Kill. Misty parked facing the back door. Neither she nor Hooligan got out of the cruiser. Hooligan sat watching the back of Dressed to Kill. Misty fiddled with the computer between them.

  I could still hear Brent running. I told him, “Misty and Houlihan are here.”

  Misty glanced toward me, jabbed her index finger in the direction of Deputy Donut’s office, and lowered her window. “Go inside and get down!” she hollered.

  Knowing that Misty and Hooligan would be able to help Jenn much better than I could and that I’d be in trouble with both Brent and Misty if I stayed outside, I went into our office and double-locked the door. “I’m locked inside,” I said into the phone. I could still hear Brent running. With my free hand, I disarmed our alarm.

  “Meow!” Dep said.

  I picked her up. My hands were shaking.

  With my cat purring comfortingly in my arms, I backed away from the windows and sat on the couch. In a way, I regretted how we’d designed our office, surrounded by windows that might not survive a gunfight. However, I would have felt trapped if I couldn’t see what was going on.

  Another cruiser pulled into the lot and parked facing the back of Dressed to Kill. I couldn’t help it. I popped up again, but I stayed back from the room’s outside windows. All four officers got out of their cruisers. Misty and the other driver started toward the back door of Dressed to Kill. I was glad I’d left it open. The officers could see—and hear—at least part of what was going on inside. Guns drawn, the two cops who had been passengers covered their drivers and followed them toward the building.

  Someone pounded on our front door.

  I jumped and turned around.

  Brent was standing in our front entryway with his face nearly pressed against the glass and his hand shielding his eyes. Store windows across Wisconsin Street reflected strobing red and blue lights.

  I set my phone on the desk. Clutching Dep, I ran out of the office and through the dining room. The strobing lights were from a black unmarked police cruiser parked in front of Dressed to Kill. I couldn’t tell if Yvonne was inside the cruiser.

  I unlocked the door. Brent rushed in. Despite having jogged several blocks, he didn’t seem out of breath. Gently, he grasped my shoulders. “Are you okay?” His hands were warm.

  “Yes.”

  Dep added, “Meow.”

  For once, Brent hardly noticed the attention-seeking cat. He glanced past us. “Is anyone else inside this building?”

  “No. Two cruisers are behind Dressed to Kill. Misty, Houlihan, and two officers from the other cruiser headed toward the back door. At least two of them had their guns drawn.”

  “And Suzanne is still near the back of the store?”

  “Probably.”

  Brent let me go and strode through the dining area to the office. Carrying Dep, now purring more loudly, I followed.

  Brent stepped out onto the back porch. “Lock this door after I leave and stay inside, away from the windows, until I give you the all clear.” He stalked toward Dressed to Kill.

  I obeyed Brent, mostly, but I continued watching. Brent disappeared on the other side of Dressed to Kill’s open door. I backed away from the windows. I must have been holding Dep too tightly. She squirmed. I set her down. She scrambled up to her catwalk.

  Tensely, I watched and listened. No shots were fired, but within seconds, Hooligan and the officer who had been a passenger in the other cruiser came outside. They had holstered their weapons and were walking Suzanne between them, holding her by the arms. She was barefoot, but she held her head high. Her wrists were cuffed behind her back.

  Dep dropped a ball from the catwalk. It bounced off my phone onto the desk. A sodden catnip mouse thumped down onto the phone. I hoped my phone had captured a video in Dressed to Kill and that, despite the kitty toys hailing down, I would be able to retrieve the video.

  Misty and the other cruiser driver came outside with Jenn between them. Each of them held one of Jenn’s elbows. Jenn was crying, but she wasn’t handcuffed, and Misty appeared to be trying to comfort her.

  Brent followed them.

  A balled-up piece of paper that I’d thrown into the trash a couple of days before flew off the catwalk, hit me on the head, and landed on Dep’s favorite spot on the couch.

  A vehicle careened up the driveway.

  The police officers hustled their charges to the other side of the parked cruisers.

  A black unmarked police car parked in an angle, blocking the rear of the driveway completely. Anyone familiar with the parking lots behind the stores on Wisconsin Street would know about the other exits.

  Yvonne Passenmath flung herself out of the driver’s seat and clumped toward the group behind the two marked cruisers.

  She was heading for Jenn, not Suzanne, and she had a sheaf of papers in one hand.

  Chapter 31

  I figured that Brent was too busy watching Yvonne Passenmath to give me the all clear he’d promised. I picked up my phone and tiptoed outside. Dep was up on the catwalk, so I had no trouble keeping her inside and closing the door. Holding my breath, I stayed on the porch.

  Passenmath yelled, “Jennifer Zeeland Banchen!”

  All five of the officers from the Fallingbrook Police Department stared at Passenmath with something like horror.

  Suzanne shouted, “No! Jennifer is innocent. She wanted to marry Roger, and I had to stop it any way I could.”

  Jenn wailed, “Why?”

  Passenmath wavered as if unsure which of the two sisters to approach.

  Suzanne raised her chin. “I promised our mother on her deathbed that I would look after you, and that’s what I did, for all the appreciation I’ve gotten. In the early years after our mother’s death, I was the one who made the important decisions. I guided you through your childhood, your teens, and your young adult life. I tried my hardest to be a mother to you.”

  “You were.” Jenn’s voice broke.

  I tiptoed down the porch steps.

  Suzanne glared at her sister. “And then when you were grown, I let you make your own decisions. Many of them weren’t great, but deciding to marry Roger was the worst. He was a control freak and wanted to run your life. He called himself a life coach, but he kept flying into rages. He could have harmed you physically. He would have crushed you.” Suzanne straightened her shoulders as best she could, considering that her wrists were cuffed behind her back. “I knew how to protect you. And I succeeded.” Suzanne turned toward Yvonne Passenmath. “Go ahead. Take me away and lock me up. My sacrifice was worth it.”

  Passenmath answered, “You’re saying that you worked alone, and that Jenn Zeeland Banchen did not help you poison Roger Banchen?”

  Suzanne glowered at Passenmath. “Weren’t you listening? I just said that.”

  Passenmath gave Brent a smug look as if to say that only she knew how to cajole a murderer into confessing.

  “What’s going on?” a man asked.
Wearing a beige blazer, a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, no tie, gray slacks, and white loafers, Gerald Stone was walking up the driveway toward Passenmath’s unmarked cruiser. Bright red and orange Gerbera daisies peeked out of the top of a large paper cone in his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” Passenmath asked him.

  He stopped walking. “Picking up my date.”

  Brent ordered him to drop the flowers and put his hands up.

  Looking confused, Gerald Stone complied.

  Passenmath flicked a glance at me, and if anything, she looked more smug. “Who’s your date, Mr. Stone?”

  Gerald Stone nodded toward the woman Hooligan and the other officer were holding by the upper arms. “Vinnie.”

  Passenmath demanded, “Who’s Vinnie?”

  Gerald Stone pointed at Suzanne. “Her, in the blue-flowered dress.”

  “Ha!” Passenmath was the most amused I’d ever seen her. “I’m afraid she’s already been picked up.”

  Gerald Stone spluttered “Why, what, huh?”

  Instead of answering, Passenmath turned toward Suzanne. “Is this your accomplice? Did he help you poison your new brother-in-law?” Passenmath seemed to be enjoying herself.

  I felt a little sick, and Misty looked the same way.

  Still watching Gerald Stone, Brent hadn’t unholstered his revolver. I knew he could do it quickly if he had to.

  “I just told you.” Despite the difficulties she was in, Suzanne flaunted her usual sarcasm. “No. The man didn’t know a thing about what I was doing. He didn’t even see me. He was snoring when I crossed the corridor from a meeting room to the banquet hall with my bag of rat poison and a saucer. I could see enough through the white drapes to recognize Roger. He was standing—if you could call it that; he was already three sheets to the wind—near a plate of crullers, stuffing them into his pockets. I squeezed one hand into a plastic glove I found, opened a bakery box, took out a cruller, coated it with arsenic, reached between the curtain and the donut wall, and put the cruller on the plate with the ones Roger had been taking. I did that with four other crullers, and then peeked between the curtains. Roger outdid my highest hopes. He gobbled all five of the poisoned crullers. I threw out the empty bag, hid the saucer under Emily’s silly hat, and tiptoed back out into the hallway. Doing all of that took me only about a minute or two, but during that time, Gerald Stone disappeared, and I heard the outer door close. I went through a conference room to another corridor, and from there, I returned to the ladies’ room.” Her eyes glittered with something resembling pride. “I saved my sister.”

  “And,” Passenmath added, “you threw out a disposable glove in a wastebasket in that other conference room. Your hand was too big, and you tore it slightly. We’ll find a handprint inside that glove, and it will be yours.”

  Suzanne sneered at her. “So? I already confessed. You don’t need to be digging up more evidence.”

  “That shows how much you know,” Passenmath told her. She aimed a forefinger at Hooligan and the other officer gripping Suzanne’s upper arms. “Take her to the station.”

  The driver of the second cruiser let go of Jenn and helped Suzanne into the back seat of that cruiser, and then he and his partner climbed into the front seats, leaving Misty and Hooligan behind with Jenn. The cruiser carrying Suzanne headed toward one of the lot’s other exits.

  Passenmath pointed at Gerald Stone. “You’re riding with me. I have some questions for you, about Saturday night and also about some very questionable practices when you ran a pharmacy.” She helped Stone into the back seat of her unmarked cruiser and shut the door. The way those cars were set up, Stone wasn’t going to be able to unlock the door or escape.

  Passenmath didn’t get into her car. She leaned against it, folded her arms, and stared at Jenn. Misty’s arm was around Jenn, who was crying. Hooligan reached into his and Misty’s cruiser, brought out a box of tissues, and handed them to Jenn.

  Brent eased around the front bumper of Passenmath’s unmarked car and started toward me.

  I stared down at the phone in my hand in dismay. Suzanne had confessed again, and this time I hadn’t even attempted to record it.

  I looked up. Misty was frowning at me. Then she gave me a half grin and pointed at her vest. She was wearing a body cam and must have recorded all of it. Besides, six police officers had witnessed the confession. I smiled back and stuck my thumb up. Her smile broadened.

  I hoped her broadening smile wasn’t because Brent was now standing right beside me. He was definitely on duty. All business, I apologized because my phone had dropped our call. “I set it to record a video and I guess these things don’t always multitask.”

  “Did you manage to record anything before the officers got here with their dash and body cams?”

  I fiddled with my phone. “I hope so.” I started the video of the underside of the table and turned the volume to its highest.

  Passenmath came and stood on my other side. All three of us stared at my phone’s screen. We heard Suzanne’s first confession, and then the video became a blur of movement as my phone slid off my lap. Hitting the floor, it made a jarring crash. We heard the shuffling of feet and Suzanne’s threats to lock me in the basement and set fire to the store, and we heard the noisy struggle between Suzanne, Jenn, and me. We heard me run toward the phone and yell at Jenn to leave Dressed to Kill. We heard Jenn refuse, and then we heard the two sisters argue with each other while I inadvertently filmed my sneakers running outside to the parking lot. The recording ended when I called Brent.

  Brent gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.

  Passenmath ordered him to e-mail the video to her. She jammed herself into the unmarked police car and steered into the parking lot. Tires squealing, she turned around and then zoomed down the driveway, missing Gerald’s bouquet by inches. The paper around the flowers rustled in the breeze of the passing car and then went still.

  Chapter 32

  After the sound of Passenmath’s car died away, Jenn turned to Misty and asked in a small voice, “Can I go to the police station, too?”

  “Yes, we’ll need your statement, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to be with your sister.”

  “I can call a lawyer for her, can’t I?”

  “Yes,” Misty said.

  “I need to lock the store.”

  “It’s a crime scene,” Misty told her. “My partner will guard it until the investigators get here.”

  Jenn’s head drooped. “Okay.”

  Misty pinioned Hooligan with a stare. “And then he can walk back to the station.”

  “It’ll be hard, but I’ll manage.” He not only had adorable freckles. He also had dimples. I grinned, too, more convinced than ever that Hooligan and Samantha belonged together.

  Misty helped Jenn into the back seat of her cruiser, and then she drove down the driveway at a reasonable pace.

  I started up the porch steps to the office door of Deputy Donut.

  “Where are you going?” Brent asked.

  “To get Dep, lock up, and take her home.”

  “You’re limping, and there’s blood on the top of your shoe.”

  I looked down. “So there is. I . . .” I gazed up at the sky. “I forgot that Suzanne stomped one of her stiletto heels into my foot, but thanks for pointing it out.” I smiled to show I was teasing. “Now I’m feeling it, and I’m also feeling where she karate-chopped my right wrist.”

  “Let me see.”

  I pushed up my sweater sleeve, unbuttoned my shirt cuff, shoved that sleeve up also, and held out my arm. He touched the reddened patch on my wrist.

  “That doesn’t look too bad,” he said, “but let’s get you to the hospital and have it and your foot checked. I’ll have a police photographer meet us there.”

  “You came on foot, didn’t you?”

  “I was about a quarter mile north of the police station. I knew that running here would be quicker than running to the station, signing out a car, and driving over, and I
didn’t want to delay Yvonne or the others.”

  I hid a grin. He probably also didn’t want to ride with Yvonne or let her keep him in front of the store while other officers arrested Suzanne in the back of the store.

  Not knowing what I was thinking, he remained serious. “I can call an ambulance or commandeer a patrol car to take us to Emergency. Your car isn’t here, is it?”

  “Not my own car, but the donut car is in the garage.”

  “Do you have the keys?”

  Dep was having a meowing fit on the other side of the door. “Come inside,” I offered. Brent followed me into the office, picked up the noisy cat, and hugged her. I opened the desk drawer and handed Brent the Fordor’s keys. “You keep finding new ways to drive that 1950 Ford, don’t you?”

  He smiled down at me. “You got it. Maybe I’ll apply for a job as your delivery person.” Dep purred.

  “My delivery person?”

  “The Deputy Donut delivery person, though I’m quite happy to deliver you anywhere you want to go.”

  “Should we drop Dep off at my house before we go to the hospital?”

  He gave Dep a knuckle-rub. “You’ll wait, won’t you, Dep, for Em to have her wrist and foot examined?”

  “Mmp,” Dep grumbled.

  “And then you’ll drive us both home,” I suggested, “and stay for dinner with some delicious sugar-coated crullers for dessert?”

  “Yes,” Brent said. “A quick dinner, I’m afraid. It’s bound to be a long night back at the station, so I’ll even accept a cup of coffee. Did you lock the front door after you let me in a while ago?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He handed Dep to me. “Sit down and rest that foot. I’ll do it. What about the door near the loading dock?”

  “I’m sure it’s locked.”

  He locked the front door, checked the loading dock door, and returned. “I’ll bring the car around.”

  “I can walk. The donut car is only right there, in its garage.”

  “And you only have a hole in the top of your foot. I’ll be back.”