Illegally Iced: A Donut Shop Mystery (Donut Shop Mysteries)

by Jessica Beck

  “That won’t be necessary, but thanks for the offer.”

  “Then what can we do?” Sandy asked.

  “I want you all to go out and try to have a lovely afternoon,” I said with my brightest smile. It was tough to do, but the kids deserved it.

  It was a relief to see so many smiles coming back at me. I was in shock about James’s murder, and I knew that the truth of the matter was that it hadn’t even hit me yet, but I had made up my mind to be brave for these kids, and I was going to do exactly that, even if it crushed me. A few mothers visited the tip jar, though I couldn’t see what they were contributing, nor did I care.

  After they were all gone, Emma said, “I’ll get started on these dishes.”

  I shook my head as I said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be happy to do them myself. Emma, thanks for sticking around to help out. I appreciate it.”

  “Is it really true? How is James doing?” she asked earnestly.

  “I’m afraid that he’s dead,” I answered. I looked around the dining area, and realized that the mess might be exactly what I needed to take my mind off what had just happened. “Now take off before I change my mind.”

  She was gone in an instant, and I locked the door behind her.

  In fifteen minutes I had the dishes done, the floor swept, and the counter and tabletops wiped down, but there was still no sign of Jake. I decided not to wait for him in the shop, since a few folks had already come by and knocked to get in while I’d been cleaning up. There were two donuts left, both in the heart shape of a cutter I’d gotten from my temporary employee, Nan Winters, and I’d saved them just for him. He hadn’t had one of the new shapes of donut yet, and I wanted him to get at least one while he was in town.

  I took a seat at the table out in front of the shop and watched the police move with amazing efficiency as they examined the crime scene. James’s body was gone, but his portable blacksmithing equipment was still there—and his fire pit as well, still sending up wisps of smoke every now and then. Why would someone want to kill him? It had to have been a heated argument, no pun intended. After all, it wasn’t likely that someone had planned to stab him in broad daylight in the park with dozens of eyewitnesses around. That meant that it was either done in a burst of passion, or because the opportunity presented itself. Whoever had killed him had the guts of a cat burglar, and I didn’t envy the police chief as he tried to catch the culprit.

  I was still waiting for Jake when I noticed someone walking toward me from the storefront closest to mine.

  What did Gabby Williams want with me, and why did she look so upset?

  I had a feeling that I was about to find out, and what was more, I was pretty sure that I wasn’t going to like it. I had to fight the impulse to run away in the opposite direction the second I saw her bearing down on me, but I held my ground as she neared me.

  “I just don’t understand it. Why did you have to kill him, Suzanne?” Gabby shouted as she got closer, and I knew that my initial instincts to escape had been right on the money.

  I wasn’t sure why Gabby was accusing me of murder, but I knew that I had to nip it in the bud before the story spread all over April Springs. I’d been convicted in the court of public opinion before, and I had no desire to ever revisit the experience again.

  FRIED CINNAMON TOAST

  This is a variation on one of our old camping favorites. Instead of cooking the dough on a stick over a campfire, though, we load it down with our delicious extras and deep-fry it. One of my best, and easiest, donut recipes! This is one is well worth a try!

  INGREDIENTS

  • 1 canister refrigerated biscuits (we use Pillsbury Grands! Homestyle Buttermilk in the 10.2 oz. size with 5 biscuits)

  Mixed

  • ¾ cup sugar, white granulated

  • ½ stick butter, softened (4 tablespoons)

  • 1½ tablespoons cinnamon

  • Canola oil for frying (the amount depends on your pot or fryer)

  INSTRUCTIONS

  Open the canister of biscuits and pat in your hands until they are in oval shapes. Mix the softened butter, sugar, and cinnamon, and then put 1 to 2 tablespoons in the center of the oval. Bring the dough up around the sides and pinch the edges tightly.

  Drop the logs of dough into the oil, being careful not to splash hot oil. Fry in the hot canola oil (360 to 370 degrees F) 3 to 5 minutes, turning halfway through. Remove when they’re golden brown, and you’ll be greeted with five cinnamon smiles!

  Yield: 5 cinnamon toast sticks

  CHAPTER 2

  “What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind? I didn’t kill him,” I said angrily, my temper flaring despite my best effort to keep it in check.

  “I heard you two fighting not two hours ago,” Gabby said, “so don’t try to deny it. Suzanne, I’m not saying that you didn’t have a right to be angry with the man, but you shouldn’t have killed him.”

  We were starting to gather a bit of crowd now ourselves. I had to find a way to shut Gabby up, and quick. “I didn’t touch him,” I said, this time letting my voice grow louder by the second. The sooner I could dispel Gabby’s theory in everyone’s minds, the better off I’d be.

  “I know what I saw, so don’t bother trying to deny that you were arguing with him this morning, Suzanne.”

  I was about to answer when I saw Chief Martin approach us with Jake on his heels.

  Oh, boy.

  Now I was in the thick of it whether I wanted to be or not.

  * * *

  “Tell me exactly what happened this morning, Suzanne,” Chief Martin said. “I thought you said earlier that you didn’t know anything about the murder.”

  “I didn’t do it!” I repeated loudly for everyone’s benefit. I was about to add something else when I saw Jake shake his head slightly. It was clear that he didn’t want me explaining myself too much when I was angry, and most likely with good reason. I had a tendency to share too much when I was in trouble, and I wouldn’t be doing myself any favors at the moment if I kept talking.

  “I never said that you did,” the chief said patiently, and I was happy that I’d heeded Jake’s advice. “But,” Chief Martin added, “if what Gabby Williams just said is true, you had a confrontation with the man this morning, and now he’s dead. You have to admit that it doesn’t look good for you, Suzanne.”

  “It wasn’t anything like a confrontation,” I said, stressing the last word as I stared hard at Gabby. To her credit, she didn’t even flinch. I thought we’d worked out our tenuous friendship over the past few years, but evidently that extended only so far with Gabby.

  “Then what was it?” the chief asked. I looked at Jake, who encouraged me with a subtle nod to explain it to the chief of police.

  “It was more like a conversation,” I amended.

  “About what, exactly?” he asked.

  Jake made a rolling motion with his fingers, telling me that it was okay to elaborate.

  I knew that it wasn’t going to sound too good for me, but it was the truth, and I had to tell it. “The smoke from his fire pit was coming into the donut shop, and I asked him as nicely as I could to move it somewhere else.”

  “And what did he say?” the chief asked.

  “He told me that he was sorry, but he couldn’t do anything about it since there was already a fire going in it, and then he went back to work,” I admitted.

  “I bet that steamed you pretty good,” the chief said.

  “Hey, that’s enough of that,” Jake said, finally speaking up.

  The chief didn’t apologize, though. He simply shrugged at Jake, looked back at me, and then said, “You know that we’ll talk more about this later, right?”

  I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I knew that tone of voice too well, since I’d heard it often enough in the past from him. I was becoming a person of interest in his mind, no matter what his relationship might be with my mother, and I didn’t care for it, not one single bit. It appeared that no matter how
unwilling I was to investigate another murder, if the chief’s attitude was any indication of what the entire town might be thinking at the moment, I really wasn’t going to have much choice.

  I was going to have to figure out who killed James Settle myself.

  “We might as well get it over with now,” I told the chief. “Do we have to go downtown, or will a table at the donut shop do?”

  “Your shop is fine,” he said.

  Jake started to follow us, but Chief Martin shook his head. “I’m sorry, but this is a private conversation.”

  “Either I go with her or she gets a lawyer,” Jake said in his best authoritative voice.

  The police chief shook his head and tried his best to calm my boyfriend down. “That just makes her look guilty, and we both know it. I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.”

  Jake wasn’t about to take that, not even from his friend. “Chief,” he said, stressing the man’s title, “Suzanne has every right to be represented. If that makes her seem guilty in your mind, then that says more about you than it does about her.”

  I had to stop this before it went any further. I knew how it could be when two people with stubborn streaks started butting heads. After all, Momma and I had played out that kind of scene ourselves too many times to count.

  I turned to Jake and patted his shoulder. “It won’t take long. I’ll be fine.”

  “I still don’t like it,” Jake said, continuing to stare at the chief.

  I was about to say something when Chief Martin surprised us all by saying in a soft voice, “Jake, I respect the fact that you’re looking out for Suzanne’s best interests, but how is it going to look if I don’t talk to her right away? Everyone in town knows that I’m dating her mother. If I give her a free pass on this, it’s going to look bad for all three of us. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “Does that mean that you don’t think I killed James?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to say that just yet.” He then contradicted himself by adding softly so that no one around us could hear, “Of course I don’t believe it for one second, but I have to gather evidence as though I didn’t know you.”

  I knew it couldn’t have been easy for the chief to say that, and I had to admit that it made me feel quite a bit better. “Jake, I’m going to talk to him alone.”

  My boyfriend thought about it, and then nodded. “Okay, but try to curb that habit you have of overexplaining everything,” he added with a grin.

  “I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making any promises.”

  The chief and I walked into the shop, and I said, “I’d offer you coffee, but I just dumped the last of it down the sink. Should I put another pot on for you and your men?”

  “Thanks, but we’ll be fine. Now,” he said as he took out his notebook, “tell me everything.”

  “I just did,” I said.

  “Indulge me, Suzanne.”

  His pen didn’t move until I was willing to start talking, so I told him everything about my interaction with James again, and then once more.

  “That’s all well and good,” he said after finishing the last note. “And after your conversation, did you speak with him again?”

  “No. I couldn’t. I was working the front of the shop by myself, and I never heard a thing about what happened until I was locking up for the day.”

  “Can Emma verify that?” he asked.

  “No, she was in back.”

  “Can anyone, then? Think hard. It could be important.”

  “I’m trying, but there’s no one that I can think of.” And then I remembered Harry Dale. The man had come in with me after I’d spoken to James about his fire, and then he’d proceeded to nurse his coffee until I had to throw him out just before the mothers asked me to call the police. I’d resented him taking up my best couch for so long, but I was so happy that I could kiss the man right now. “Talk to Harry Dale. He sat right over there the entire time, from my conversation with James to the time just before Sandy and Terri showed up.”

  Chief Martin chuckled a little, clearly relieved by the news. “Harry does tend to nest, doesn’t he? I’ll give him a call, and then you should be in the clear.”

  “Maybe with you, but I’ve got a feeling that the rest of April Springs is going to be harder to convince.”

  The police chief nodded in instant sympathy and understanding. “Folks do tend to believe the worst about people sometimes, don’t they?”

  “When murder’s involved? You can count on it every time,” I said.

  “Let me call Harry, and then we’ll see what we can do.”

  He stepped away and grabbed his radio—no doubt to get Harry’s telephone number—while I swept the same part of our floor over and over again. Surely my customer would back up my story. But what if he didn’t? No, I couldn’t think like that. I wasn’t going to even entertain the possibility that he wouldn’t verify what I’d just told the chief. I glanced outside a full minute later and saw Jake staring inside the donut shop impatiently.

  I held my hands up, trying to signify that he should be patient, but there was nothing else I could do to ease his concern.

  I heard the police chief talking on his phone in the corner, and after a full minute, he smiled as he hung up. “You’re in the clear, Suzanne. You’ll be happy to know that Harry backs up your story one hundred percent.”

  “Good for him,” I said with a grin of my own. “Does that mean that I can go back outside now?”

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  Once we were on the sidewalk in front of the donut shop again, he turned to me and said loudly, “Your alibi holds up, Suzanne. You’re in the clear. There’s no way you could have stabbed James Settle.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and then winked at him when I was sure that no one could see me.

  After Chief Martin crossed the street and returned to the crime scene, Jake rejoined me. “How did you manage to do that?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked with a grin.

  “He was really looking out for you just then, wasn’t he? I owe the man an apology. I probably shouldn’t have butted in like that.”

  “Jake, I appreciate you standing up for me, but you know that I can handle things by myself.”

  He wrapped his arms around me. “Suzanne, there are times when it makes perfectly good sense to be independent, but you don’t always have to do everything on your own.”

  “I don’t,” I said as I squeezed him a little hard before I let him go. “After all, I’ve got Grace, don’t I?”

  “Among others,” he said with a twinkle strong in his eyes.

  “Do you mean like Momma and George?” I asked, barely able to suppress my smile.

  He kissed me, and then said, “Don’t push your luck. You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Do you want me to try to get out of this assignment? If you need my help investigating James’s murder, I’ll find a way to make it happen.”

  I loved the fact that Jake knew me so well. There was no way I was going to walk away without trying to figure out who had killed James. “No. As much as I appreciate the offer, I’ll be fine with the reserves that I have in my corner now.” Almost as an afterthought, I added, “If I get in too deep, though, I may have to take you up on your offer.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I was far from being a “girl” by just about anyone’s definition, but I liked the way it sounded when Jake said it.

  “Now, I distinctly remember something about you promising me lunch, right?”

  He laughed at the reminder, a sound that I dearly loved. “Name the place, and if I can afford it, you can order whatever you want on the menu.”

  “Oh, this is going to cost you.”

  “Where should we go?” he asked.

  “I was thinking we could walk over to the Boxcar,” I said, pointing to the restaurant just across the road.

  “Are you sure that’s not too close to the park?” Jake asked.
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  “You mean the spot where James was murdered?”

  “I do,” he admitted.

  “Thanks for thinking of me, but I can’t let that dictate what I do. If I let it stop me now, when will I ever be able to go to Trish’s again? It might not be easy, but I’d rather face it right now.”

  “At least let me hold your hand as we walk,” he said. It was one of Jake’s increasing public shows of affection, and at the moment, I was doubly glad for it.

  “It’s a deal,” I said as I slipped my hand in his. I tried to avoid staring at the tape cordoning off the crime scene as we neared it, but it was impossible. James’s fire had finally gone out, but his tools were still arrayed in front of his anvil. It looked as though he’d stepped away for a second and would be right back, but I knew that wasn’t ever going to happen. He’d become a presence in April Springs since he’d first come to town coveting our abandoned railroad tracks, but we’d worked that out long ago. I had a set of iron railroad track bookends he’d made for me from a different supply of rails, and they sat proudly on my desk. James and I had become friends since then, sharing time and enjoying the odd mix of characters that made up our little town together. I would miss him. In most folks’ minds, it might not have been much of a reason to throw myself into a murder investigation, but it was enough for me.

  I was going to do my best to find the killer and avenge my friend’s death.

  * * *

  “Hi, Suzanne,” Trish said sadly as Jake and I walked into the diner. Her eyes were bloodshot, and it was clear that she’d been crying. “I’m so glad to see you.” As she hugged me, I saw her ponytail bob slightly, a trademark of hers since high school. She and Grace were two of my best friends in the world, and I loved them both dearly. I hated to see her so upset. As she pulled away, she dabbed at her eyes as she said, “Poor James. Who could have done such a terrible thing to him?”

  “I have no idea,” I answered. It had hit her harder than I would have expected. Had she been that close to James, or was it the proximity of the murder that had shaken her so much?