Spooky Choc Orange Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 23

by Susan Gillard

  Geoff Lawless sat with his back to them. His bald head glinted beneath the lights in the restaurant. He held a newspaper between his grubby fingers. The pages splayed to hide his face.

  Had he really followed her there? What was Lawless up to, this time?

  Heather tapped the man on the shoulder.

  He froze but didn’t turn around.

  “Are you serious?” Heather asked. “Geoff, I know it’s you. Turn around and talk to me.”

  “I don’t know anyone named, Geoff, lady,” Geoff said.

  Heather glanced back at Ryan, and he twirled his finger beside his temple.

  She scooched out of her seat, brushed off her ankle length skirt, then circled to face Geoff and his newspaper. He flicked it and continued ‘reading,' but raised it to hide his face better.

  Heather grasped the newspaper and tugged it from his grip. Geoff Lawless sat, red-faced, in the booth. He didn’t have a plate or drink in front of him.

  “Lawless,” Heather said, and folded up the newspaper. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “My research,” he replied. “You can’t handle the case. The case with the social lady.”

  “Wow,” Ryan said, then grabbed another handful of chips, absently. “Just wow.” He shoved them into his mouth and chewed.

  “You’re trying to investigate again,” Heather said.

  “I told you I’m going to get my license,” Lawless replied, then folded his burly arms.

  “Heaven help Hillside if you do.” Heather shook her head. “Wait a second. You’re aware that you’re not permitted to investigate a crime without the permission of the Hillside Police Department, correct?”

  “I have permission,” Geoff replied.

  “No,” Ryan said. “You don’t have permission. I would know since it’s my case.”

  Geoff cleared his throat twice in a row. “I never said I had permission.”

  “What?” Heather shook her head to clear it of the absurdity. “You literally just said that.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Ryan and Heather exchanged a look of sheer disbelief. Heather slapped the newspaper onto the table, then pursed her lips at the master of interference. “Mr. Lawless. If I catch you snooping around or working on this case again, I’m going to have to report you to the police.”

  Ryan nodded and stuffed more nachos into his mouth.

  “Come on, honey, let’s go,” Heather said. She walked back to the booth, then grabbed her tote bag and tucked the straps over her shoulder.

  Ryan downed the rest of his soda, then slapped it down on the table. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his lips. He pointed at Geoff Lawless. “You’d better watch it, Lawless. You’re going to fall foul of the law if you continue in this vein.”

  “Whatever, cop,” Geoff said, and puffed out his chest. He grabbed his newspaper and held it to his coat. “Your wife did the exact same thing, and you let her.”

  “Excuse me,” Heather said and froze mid-stride. “Nobody allows me to do anything.” Heather Shepherd was her own woman.

  And a darn fine investigator.

  She turned and strode out of Dos Chicos.

  Chapter 10

  James Little sat on the park bench and held a Donut Delights box on his lap. He stared up at Heather, then looked down at Dave.

  “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Little,” Heather said. It hadn’t taken much to track him down.

  Just a chat to Sharon Janis, who had, of course, spilled the details in the first five seconds of her conversation with Heather.

  James’ pimply cheeks turned bright pink. “You can call me James. I don’t – I’m not a mister.”

  Heather smiled and lowered herself to the bench beside the teen. Dave sat down on her right foot, then looked back at her. Amy hated it when Dave did the same to her. Perhaps, this was his prolonged punishment for the spider costume.

  “You like donuts?” Heather asked.

  “Usually. Blegh, these are horrible. I picked these up from a guy downtown, and he promised me they’d be the best I’d ever tasted.” James shuddered and glanced down at the Donut Delights box. “They are not.”

  Heather blinked. Dave blinked. Shoot, somewhere Amy had probably blinked in solidarity. “Pardon me,” Heather said, “but could you open that box?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I don’t think you should have one, though. I bought these for my girlfriend. I’m going to see her later.” He blushed again, then popped the lid.

  The donuts inside stuck to the side of the box. They were bent out of shape, covered in a fine dusting of sugar and definitely hadn’t come from Heather’s store.

  “Where did you say you got these?” Heather asked, and lifted one from the box. She broke it in half and the donut crumbled. It actually crumbled. Ew.

  “Some guy. Outside a donut store. Uh, what was it called? Delightful Donuts,” he said, then flipped the box closed and looked at the label. “That’s weird. This one says Donut Delights.”

  Heather offered the broken donut to Dave, but he turned up his nose. And if Dave turned up his nose to a donut, that meant it was the worst donut to have graced the face of this Earth.

  She held the pieces in either hand and looked back at James. “I wouldn’t suggest you buy these donuts again. Next time, come down to my store, Donut Delights, and get the real deal.”

  What was Geoff up to? First, he’d determined to get a private investigator’s license and now this. Sabotage? After witnessing his frantic root through her dumpster a few weeks back, she wouldn’t put it past him.

  James Little shrugged and looked down at his sneakers. “What did you want to speak to me about Mrs. Shepherd?”

  Heather glanced at the boy’s shoes then inhaled sharply. Nikes. “Well, James, I wanted to talk to you about your girlfriend and her mom, actually.”

  James’ cheeks paled. Even his pimples went white. “What about them?”

  “I’m sure you know that Sarah Kenny was murdered. You’ve read about it or heard about it, correct?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “I wanted to know if you were at the Halloween party the other night,” Heather said.

  “No. I wasn’t invited,” he replied, in clipped off tones.

  “James, it’s really important that you tell me the truth. The closer I get to the truth, the sooner I can bring your girlfriend’s murderer to justice.” Heather smiled at him and avoided looking at the Nikes. “Honestly, I just want to help.”

  James chewed his bottom lip. “I was there,” he said. “But I wasn’t supposed to be. I think it was just after whatever happened, happened, because the cops came to the house, and there were sirens and, yeah, I ran.”

  “Okay,” Heather said. “Let’s start from the top. Why did you go to the Kenny mansion on the night of the Halloween party?”

  “Because my girlfriend, Tatiana, said she wanted to see me,” he replied. “She said it was important, so I ran over as soon as I could. My mom’s sick, you see, so I can’t always just drop everything.”

  “Does Tatiana do that to you a lot?” Heather asked.

  James shifted the donut box on his lap. “Yeah. She’s pretty high maintenance, but she’s my girl, you know. I’d do anything for her.”

  “Anything,” Heather said, and gave him a warm smile. “So, you ran over to the mansion, and then what happened?”

  “I couldn’t go in through the front door,” James said. “So, I went round to her bedroom window, like I usually do when she’s got a late night problem.”

  “Why couldn’t you go in through the front door?” Heather asked.

  James sniffed and looked up at the gathering clouds above their heads. “It looks like it’s going to rain soon. Maybe we should go.”

  “James, why couldn’t you go in through the front door?”

  “Because Tat’s mother hated me. She despised me,” James said and bowed his head again. “She said I wasn’t worthy of her daughter. So, yeah, Tat said I could
n’t come in through the front door or visit her anymore unless I snuck in.”

  “I see,” Heather replied. “That must’ve made you angry.”

  His jaw tightened. “No. Not angry. It made me sad. I’ve been pushed around a lot before,” he said and cleared his throat. “Not anymore, now that I’m with the Tat Princess, though. Now, everyone treats me well. Except for Sarah. She still hated me.”

  Heather nodded. “Thanks for the information, James. I appreciate that. And if you ever have anything else to tell me, please call this number,” Heather said and extended her business card.

  He took it and turned it over. He didn’t say another word.

  “Have a good day, Mr. Little,” Heather said, then rose from her seat and walked toward the exit. She glanced back once, but James Little had already disappeared.

  “Curious,” she whispered. Dave barked his agreement. Heather dumped the two halves of the Delightful Donuts into the trash can on her way.

  Chapter 11

  “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Amy said. “The boyfriend left the footprints outside that obnoxious girl’s bedroom?”

  “That is correct,” Heather replied, then rang up another order. She bent, collected a glistening donut from the tray, then slid it into the Donut Delights box. She handed it to the customer with a smile.

  “And Geoff is trying to sabotage you by putting his donuts in your boxes?” Amy asked. “How is that even possible?”

  “My best guess is that he’s having them made, or he’s stealing them,” Heather said. She sighed, then grabbed the stool behind her and dragged it forward.

  She plonked down and smiled at Emily Potts, who carried a coffee pot throughout the crowded interior of Donut Delights. Emily grinned back, then stopped beside a table and doled out another mug of the ‘life-giving’ liquid.

  “But I’m not worried about Geoff Lawless,” Heather said.

  “Why not? He’s kind of creepy. And not Halloween creepy, if you know what I mean.”

  Heather smacked her lips, then reached for her own cup of coffee. The aroma drifted to her nose, and she inhaled, deeply. “Because Geoff Lawless is the type of person who digs his own grave. He’s trying to do whatever it is he’s trying to do, and it’s going to backfire, with or without my help.”

  “I guess,” Amy said, then broke off to serve another customer. She rang up a coffee and a donut, takeaway, then prepared the order in the nick of time, and delivered it with a smile.

  The trill of cell phones and the chatter of the customers soothed Heather. It would’ve been discordant to anyone else, but not to her. This was her dream. A working donut store with happy customers.

  But concern laced through her joy. A tickle of sleuthing demand at the back of her mind. The case hadn’t been solved, and something about James’ story was off.

  He’d rushed over to see Tatiana, then promptly run off again at the slightest sign of alarm.

  “Ames,” Heather said. “If you were a teenager and your boyfriend asked you to come over, but when you arrived, the cops were there, what would you do?”

  “I’d check if everything was okay,” Amy replied, immediately.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’d do too.” Heather tapped her chin.

  Emily strode up to the counter and stopped in front of the register. “Heather?”

  “I’m sorry, the Heather you’ve dialed is unavailable at present. Please leave a message after the tone, and she will get back to you,” Amy said.

  Heather jabbed her in the stomach, then smiled at the newest Donut Delights assistant. “What’s up?”

  “There’s an old lady over there who asked to speak to you,” Emily said and gestured to a woman in a black shawl and equally dark glasses.

  “That’s not conspicuous at all,” Amy said.

  “Did she say what she wants?” Heather asked, and slipped off her seat.

  “No. She just asked after you,” Emily replied. “Should I tell her you’re busy?”

  “No, no. I’ll speak to her. Thanks, Ems.” Heather dusted off her apron, then drew a mint out of her back pocket and slipped it between her lips.

  “What’s with the candies? Halloween leftovers?” Amy asked.

  “Nope. Well, yeah, but that’s not why I eat them. They help with the nerves,” Heather said.

  Amy laughed and cupped a hand to her ear. “I thought it’s been too quiet lately.”

  Heather walked around the counter, then hurried to the stranger’s table. She lowered herself into the seat opposite the shawl-covered woman and smiled. “Hello,” she said.

  “You’re Heather Shepherd,” the woman croaked.

  “That’s correct.”

  “The Heather Shepherd.”

  “I could show you an ID if you want,” Heather replied.

  “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Shepherd.” The lady pursed her wrinkled lips, then glanced back over either shoulder. “I came to tell you what I know. All that I know.”

  “Regarding?”

  “The death of Sarah Kenny,” she hissed.

  Heather pushed back in her seat – a mean feat, since the wrought iron legs weighed the chair down – and folded her arms. “Who are you, ma’am?”

  The old lady shifted her dark sunglasses down her nose and eyes Heather over the rims. “I am Myra Jackson.”

  The maid. She’d tried to get hold of her consistently for the past few days, but the extension in the maid’s quarters at the Kenny mansion had been disconnected.

  “What do you know, Myra?” Heather asked.

  Myra Jackson scuffled further forward, and the ends of her shawl dipped into her coffee mug. “Sarah Kenny was a horrible woman. She treated everyone in her life like dirt. Especially me.”

  “I see,” Heather said. That was hardly case-breaking news.

  “But there’s more,” Myra whispered, and placed her palms on the table for leverage. One landed on a sticky donut, and she snatched it back and held her palm aloft. “Georgia Summers was the one who gave Mrs. Kenny the pumpkin decorations. Georgia Summers hated Mrs. Kenny. She had an affair with Kenneth Kenny.”

  “Oh my,” Heather said. She’d gleaned as much from the argument before Sarah’s death. “But wait, why would Georgia give Sarah decorations for her party, if she wasn’t even invited?”

  Myra sneered. “Sarah didn’t know they were from Georgia. She asked me to get decorations and Georgia saw me in the party store and offered these to me.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” Myra said and sat back at last. Her coffee-drenched shawl trailed across the glass surface of the table. “But she was insistent that I take them. She made me go back to her house with her and get them, then questioned me about the decorations later at the party. She wanted to make sure they were up.”

  Heather frowned and scratched the lines on her brow. “That’s weird.”

  “Suspicious, you mean,” Myra whispered, then rearranged her shawl. “Very suspicious. I just thought you should know.” The elderly woman leaped to her feet and rushed to the door.

  “Wait, Myra!” Heather called.

  But the woman had already exited the store. Heather rose from her seat and walked back to the counter. Question marks multiplied and danced through her brain.

  What on earth? Why would Georgia give Sarah decorations? And why would Myra have kept that information from the police?

  “Never a dull moment in Donut Delights,” Amy said, from behind the register.

  Chapter 12

  They walked into Georgia’s boardroom and took seats at the end of a long, walnut table. Heather squished against the cool leather of the boardroom chair, and shot Amy a wide-eyed glance.

  “Swanky,” Amy said. “I expected no less from Hillside’s newest top socialite.”

  “Ladies.” Georgia Summers swept through the glass door, then shut it behind her. The subtle click sent a shiver up Heather’s spine. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  The fabulous Miss S
ummers swept along the table to the very end, then did a turn to show off her chiffon evening gown. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s three in the afternoon,” Amy said, and checked her watch. “You got a fancy dress gala or something?”

  Georgia Summers sighed and gave Heather’s bestie a tight-lipped smile. “I did miss your special brand of wit, Annie.”

  “It’s Amy,” she hissed.

  Heather clenched her fists in her lap. “Miss Summers, thank you for agreeing to speak with us.”

  “Anything for you, dear. Anything. I figured you’d eventually come to your senses,” she simpered.

  “Senses?” Heather moved to the edge of her seat and held herself there. She placed her tote bag on the table, then tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’ve finally decided that I’m the best choice as an investor for your little business,” Georgia said, and twiddled her fingers in mid-air. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Summers,” Heather said. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  Georgia took a single step back. Anger flashed across her expression, but disappeared a second later. “May I ask why you’ve come?” She checked the silver-rimmed clock on the wall and pursed her lips. “I’m a very busy woman, Mrs. Shepherd. I don’t have any time to waste on pleasantries.”

  “Good thing this isn’t pleasant, then,” Amy muttered, but only loud enough for Heather to hear.

  “Miss Summers, I’ve come to talk to you about your acquaintance, Sarah Kenny.”

  Georgia froze, and that anger swept across her face again. She barely managed to cover it up, this time. “I have no interested in talking about her or anything to do with her murder.”

  “Who said anything about the murder?” Amy asked.

  “Oh please. I know who you are, Shepherd,” Georgia said, and sniffed. “I know why you’ve come. You want to pin this whole debacle on me, because you’re too lazy to find the real killer.”

  “Wow,” Amy said. “It’s like an influx of crazy people of late. I can’t even deal.”