Dying for a Donut (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 5)

by Cindy Sample

  The other golf cart had overturned but the two occupants, Tom and a deputy, stood upright. The deputy hoofed his way down the hill, his gun pointed in Brooke’s direction, but she didn’t look like she was going anywhere. Tom strode toward me, his arms wide open, his expression grim.

  I shaded my eyes and looked uphill in the direction I’d just come. A swarm of bicycles bounced their way down the hill, led by a tandem bike driven by the only duo crazy enough to ride the contraption, Hank and Gran.

  Those Tai Chi classes were paying off. Gran remained ramrod straight on the bike. I noticed her feet couldn’t reach the pedals, but on this downhill slope, Hank didn’t need any help. I expected him to come to a halt to see how I’d survived my brush with death. Instead they churned right past me, stopping when they reached Brooke’s side.

  Give me a break. Did the man not notice the gun his former, I hoped she was now his former, girlfriend had pointed at his former wife?

  Seconds later, my annoyance with my ex disappeared as my boyfriend scooped me up in his arms. Now that was more like it.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Our rapturous kiss ended far sooner than either of us wanted, but Tom had questions to ask, and I had answers for a change.

  Brooke remained unconscious. The armed deputy stood over her while Hank sat by her side holding her limp hand in his. Paramedics were carefully working their way down the hill.

  Stan had also attempted to come to my rescue, but the steep hill proved his undoing. When the front tire of his bicycle dipped into a rut, Stan somersaulted over the handlebars, his skinny legs flailing in the air. Not wanting to watch him crash, I covered my eyes with my hands. After hearing a few people clap, I peeked through my fingers. All that dance training had paid off. Stan had managed to stick his landing. He grinned, walked toward us and hugged me.

  Tom continued to rattle off questions nonstop. I held up my scratched palms in protest.

  “Why don’t I summarize everything for you,” I said. “Brooke killed Axel and Lionel. They both threatened to expose her past. After Axel’s death, Lionel also upped his demands since he correctly guessed she’d murdered Axel.”

  “She admitted everything to you?” Tom asked, his eyebrows raised.

  I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m easy to confess to.”

  “They should give you your own talk show,” Stan said. “Killer Confessions.”

  Tom rolled his eyes, but I thought that show might catch on.

  “Anyway, once Brooke learned a detective wanted to interview her, she realized she didn’t have many options left other than taking a hostage and escaping.” I kissed Tom on the cheek. “Thanks for picking up on my clue.”

  “I always listen to every word you say.” I rolled my eyes and he laughed. “Okay, most of the time. But I remembered you don’t properly appreciate Bob Dylan. That clue was enough for me to turn on the siren and race over here.”

  Tom’s cell rang. He excused himself and walked away while Stan and I watched the drama unfold in front of us. The paramedics lifted Brooke on to the stretcher, her neck and head protected by a brace. Hank remained at her side. Even from this distance, we could see tears rolling down his face.

  “That is so touching,” said Stan. “Just like the final scene of West Side Story.” He placed his hands over his heart and started screeching off key.

  I covered his mouth with my hand. Two weeks of dance rehearsal had not improved Stan’s singing. And even though I felt sorry for Hank, I was thankful my ex had dodged a bullet.

  And so had I.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  A wise man said, “The show must go on.” Despite a few small hiccups on opening night, West Side Story opened to a sold-out crowd a week later. Mother and Bradford, Liz and Brian, and Tom and I attended. At the show’s finale, we applauded the cast with palm-smacking fervor. Stan delivered a bouquet of flowers to Zac, the director, who bestowed a smack on my friend’s blushing cheek.

  We met up with Stan after the performance, and he introduced us to Zac. We all shook hands with the director and complimented him on the show.

  “It can’t be easy casting a bunch of amateurs in a musical like this,” I said to Zac.

  Even in the dim lighting of the old theater, Zac’s teeth gleamed white as he smiled. “I try to showcase everyone to the best of their ability.” The director eyed Tom appraisingly. “We’re doing Peter Pan for the holiday show, and I’m short one critical character––Captain Hook. You’ve already got his look. Can you sing?”

  Before Tom could decline, I did it for him. “That beard will be history.” I smiled at Tom. “Hopefully tonight.”

  Stan nudged Zac. “Tell them about the cruise,” he said in a stage whisper loud enough for the entire theater to hear.

  “In January, I’m filling in for the stage director on a Nordic Seas ship cruising the Caribbean. I spent my early musical years aboard ship, sliding from one end of the stage to the other.” Zac rocked back and forth illustrating his point.

  “And I’m going with.” Stan grinned. “I have two weeks’ vacation saved up and can’t think of a better way to use it.”

  Neither could I. How wonderful it would be to cruise the high seas, visit exotic locales, to savor balmy breezes and soft sand. Then in the evening, wining and dining to your heart’s content. My friend was lucky, and I couldn’t be happier for him. I just wished I could go along.

  We invited Zac and Stan to join us for dinner. They declined, saying they had work to do, although Stan winked at me as they walked away. The six of us piled into our respective cars and drove to Smith Flat House, the perfect after-theater dining spot.

  Once inside the restaurant, we sat at a table for six. The seating was a little tight, so Tom and I squeezed next to each other, thigh to thigh. My body vibrated. I was so content I nearly missed out on his conversation with my stepfather.

  Tom pointed at Bradford’s left arm, which still rested in a sling. “How’s the injury healing?” he asked.

  “The doc says I’ll be as good as new in another week.” Bradford threw a glance at my mother. “Although from now on, I’ll stick to investigating from a desk.”

  “You’d better,” said Mother. “Or I’ll tie you to the bed.”

  “I can work with that,” he said, causing my mother to blush and the rest of us to laugh.

  “I’m just glad to have Tom back where he belongs.” I sighed happily.

  “I heard through the DA grapevine about that new position you were offered,” Brian said to Tom. “Are you going to take it?”

  My fork fell out of my hand and landed in Tom’s lap, almost injuring something I’d become very fond of. He retrieved it and returned it to me. “Lose something?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. You tell me. What’s Brian talking about?”

  Tom shook his head. “We can discuss it later. So, Brian, I heard they denied Brooke bail.”

  I chewed on my lip. If Tom thought he could distract me by referring to the woman who almost killed me, he was right.

  “Despite her desperate acts,” I said, “I still feel a little sorry for Brooke.”

  “Even after she held you at gunpoint?” Liz asked.

  “I said a little sorry. Hank is devastated. He was ready to propose to her.”

  “She sure fooled me,” said Mother. “I guess you can’t always tell a Brooke by its cover.”

  We laughed, but our revelry was tinged with sadness. Brooke had suffered from the men who took advantage of her over a decade ago and then later persecuted her. But she did not have to resort to killing them. Maybe if she’d shared her past with Hank, none of this would have occurred.

  I felt sorry for my ex, but Gran was doing her best to help him recover. As she put it, “A donut a day will keep his depression away.”

  “What’s going to happen to Apple Tree Farm?” Liz asked.

  “The feds seized all assets including Aces Financial Group,” Tom said. “However, as it turns out, one of Lionel’s cler
ks screwed up. The mortgage was never officially recorded as a lien on the property. It had been signed by Axel and notarized but got stuck in a pile of paperwork. It could remain stuck in paperwork purgatory forever.”

  “Dorie deserves a break,” I said. “I hope the Thorson family can keep the operation going for years to come.”

  “I hope so, too,” Liz said. “Because I still don’t have my products, and I know they’re trapped in there somewhere.”

  “Dorie was about to fire Brent when he disappeared off the grid. She’s not sure how much he stole from the farm, but she’s positive her new inventory manager will get to the bottom of it.”

  “Anyone we know?” Mother asked.

  “A kid who could use a break,” I replied. “Dorie thought that after all Tony Perez had been through, he deserved a decent job. Technically, he’s a Thorson heir, and now he and Eric can learn the business together. With Dorie and Nina overseeing the two young men, they will, hopefully, learn to work with each other.”

  Not to mention, Tony should be far too busy to date my daughter.

  “Did you ever discover who knocked the shelving over?” asked Liz.

  I shrugged. “Tom checked the warehouse equipment, and one of the fork lifts was dented, possibly from smashing into the shelving. Brooke claimed she wasn’t responsible, so we’ll have to assume it was Brent.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” Tom said, and I smiled at my hero.

  Our server arrived with our meals. Conversation halted while we contentedly chewed until a loud soprano voice interrupted us.

  I looked up and cringed. Would this woman ever disappear from my life?

  “Hi, Adriana,” Liz cooed at her customer who was dressed in an expensive little black dress designed to show off her figure. Obviously not purchased at my favorite designer store––BudgetMart. “You look lovely tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she responded. “We’re celebrating.” She pointed to a table on the opposite side of the restaurant where Walter waved to us. These two were becoming as thick as thieves.

  I felt compelled to ask, “What are you celebrating?”

  Her smile beamed brighter than the overhead lighting. “I was asked to run the marketing department of Hangtown Bank. Mr. Boxer opted to retire, and Mr. Chandler decided that since you and I work so well together, we should make it permanent. Isn’t that fantastic?”

  My jaw dropped at Adriana’s revelation. Liz took one look at my expression, grabbed the bottle of chardonnay and handed it to me.

  “Toodles.” Adriana waved to our group. “I’ll see you Monday at the office, Laurel. Don’t be late.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The drive back to my house was as quiet as a graveyard shrouded in fog. After Adriana’s revelation, my appetite vanished. I barely touched my dinner or my chardonnay. My mother questioned whether I was coming down with something.

  I certainly was––a significant case of the banker blues.

  Tom remained silent, lost in contemplation of something or other. Was it this new job opportunity? Did it have anything to do with Ali Reynolds? Although the task force had successfully completed its mission, Tom had not shared any intimate details of his partnership with the female detective.

  Was that a good thing or not?

  Tom parked his car in my driveway and shut off the ignition. I waited for sixty seconds before I decided this was a heck of a way to spend our first evening alone together in over six weeks. Someone needed to get the conversational ball rolling.

  “So…” I said, adding a heavy dose of nuance.

  “So,” he echoed. “Adriana’s announcement must have been quite a shock for you.”

  “I’m still stunned. I can’t imagine working for that woman on a full-time basis. Or even an hourly one.”

  Tom reached over and clasped my left hand. His thumb made gentle circles on the inside of my palm.

  Oh, that felt good.

  “What about that new position Brian mentioned?” I asked him. “Is it an amazing opportunity?”

  He nodded slowly but still didn’t elaborate.

  Alrighty then.

  I yanked on the leather door handle, and the door flew open. The movement finally triggered a response from Tom.

  “We need to talk,” he said. “Let’s go inside where it’s more comfortable.”

  Based on the tone of his voice, there wasn’t a room in my house that would welcome whatever news he planned to share. I hurried down the sidewalk, half tempted to slam the door in Tom’s face. But relationships demand common sense and decorum, not emotional histrionics.

  Tom followed me inside as I turned on a couple of lights. The kids were spending the night with Hank and Gran. Their mission: to cheer up my ex. At the rate this evening was going, I might need my own cheerleading squad by morning.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” I asked Tom. He declined so I plunked down on my sofa. Seconds later, Tom sat next to me.

  That was a good start, but if we were ever to finish this conversation, I’d better ignite it.

  “It was tough worrying about you this past month,” I said.

  “Fighting criminals can take a toll on any relationship,” he replied.

  “That it can. So many things to worry over.” I fiddled with my watch then finally asked the question I’d fretted over for the past week. “So how was it working with Ali Reynolds again? Just like old times?”

  Tom placed his hand on my thigh. Another good sign.

  “She’s a good cop. Handled herself well… as usual.”

  I placed my palm on top of his. “You never told me about that incident at SFPD. What was that all about?”

  Tom shifted and moved a few inches away from me. Uh oh.

  “Ali is a smart and dedicated officer. She thinks fast on her feet. But sometimes she’s a little headstrong and makes decisions too quickly.”

  “Like latching on to the first suspect she comes across?” I felt obligated to add that to the conversation.

  He leaned over and kissed my cheek. Nice move, Tom Hunter.

  “It happens to the best detectives,” he said, “but I don’t think she liked being shown up by an amateur.”

  “At the rate I’m solving cases, maybe Gran and I should open up our own agency. It would be better than working for Adriana.”

  Tom slid closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

  “Instead of Two Gals Detective Agency, why don’t you open up One Terrific Gal Marketing Agency? I know you’d be a hit.”

  That did have a nice ring to it. Sweet of Tom to worry about my career and not just his own. Wait a minute. Was he trying to distract me?

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. “But back to you. What’s the deal on this job, and why are you so reluctant to tell me about it?”

  He blew out a forceful breath. “Homeland Security also participated in our task force, to a limited extent. They’re expanding their Sacramento office, and they’ve offered me a position. It’s an exciting opportunity and also means more money.”

  I tilted my head at him. “Those are two positives. So what exactly is the negative that you’re holding back from me?”

  “My assignments could involve some travel, maybe a couple of weeks at a time.”

  My shoulders slumped. “The last six weeks have been tough on our relationship. I even worried that something might be going on between you and Ali.”

  “Ali?” He laughed. “Not hardly. Besides, no one,” he looked deeply into my eyes when he said this, “could take your place.”

  I shivered, but in all the right places.

  “But she’s smart, attractive and a fellow officer. What’s not to like?” I knew I was displaying a huge lack of self-confidence, but I needed to lay it all on the table. Or in the current situation, my sofa.

  “Ali is intelligent, but she has a tendency to make rash decisions. Since you’re obviously dying to know what happened to her at SFPD…” I leaned so close I was practically si
tting in Tom’s lap, not a bad position to be in. “She arrested a politician with a nasty habit of seducing minors, then walked him into the station stark naked.”

  Oh. And that was a bad thing?

  I couldn’t help chuckling. Given time, maybe Ali Reynolds and I might form a friendship after all.

  “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” Tom asked, nibbling on my ear.

  Ping. I almost forgot my original question as I wiggled even closer to him. “So what have you decided about this job offer? I won’t stand in your way, but your travel schedule could make seeing each other even more difficult than it has been.”

  “I realize that.” Tom took my hand in his. “And I feel strongly that this career decision should be made by the two of us.”

  I squeezed his hand. “I’m touched.”

  “Good. Because I’m in this for the long run.” Tom’s eyes darkened and his voice grew husky. “I love you and I love your kids. We’ve gone through a lot together this past year, but we survived. Before we talk about the job, there’s an even more critical decision you need to make.”

  Tom sounded so serious. What decision could possibly be more important than his new job offer?

  “You know that Caribbean cruise that Stan and Zac are taking in January?” he asked.

  I nodded while wondering what a boat trip could possibly have to do with his career options.

  “Wouldn’t that be a wonderful place to spend our honeymoon?”

  THE END

  AUTUMN DESSERT RECIPES

  There’s nothing my mother loved better than sharing recipes and trying new ones. In her honor, I asked friends and fans to submit their favorite fall dessert recipes. From the numerous entrees that were submitted, the following apple, pear and pumpkin recipes were drawn. And in honor of Laurel McKay, we have one gooey brownie recipe for all the chocolate lovers out there. Enjoy.