Heather couldn’t take another second of his creepy scavenging. She clunked the window open and stuck her head out. “Why don’t you just ask me face to face, recipe thief?”
She’d bet her bottom dollar that Jelly Polinski had stolen her grandmother’s recipes for him, after all, and she’d paid dearly for it.
Geoff Lawless threw his hands up in the air and did a dance. He gasped, shuddered and took a step back.
“I’ll tell you what I do with any leftover stock,” Heather said, “but you won’t like the outcome.”
Geoff didn’t answer, just stared at her, a deer caught in the head lights.
“I don’t throw away food, Geoff. There are plenty of people who need sustenance and can’t afford to pay for it. Whatever I don’t sell, I give to the needy at soup kitchens or the residents of Hillside Manor for their treats. Does that answer your question?”
Amy poked her head out of the window beside Heather. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Can’t you come up with any recipes on your own?”
Geoff took one step back, then another.
“Here we go again,” Heather said.
“Oh, he’s going, he’s going,” Amy put in.
Geoff turned on his heel and sprinted off down the alley. He reached the end and burst onto the sidewalk, eliciting screams from a group of schoolgirls who’d gathered to exchange pics on their cells or look for Pokémon or somethin’.
“And he’s gone,” Amy said. “You’ve got to give it to him. He keeps the acts fresh.”
“If you call rifling through old donut boxes in search of stale crumbs fresh.” Heather yawned, then turned from the window.
Amy shut it behind her. “Speaking of donuts. We’ve got a massive order to ship.”
“Ugh, as if I could forget.” Heather walked to the door, dragging her feet for the first time since Jung’s entry. “After that, I have to go home and get some sleep.”
“I second that motion,” Amy replied, then linked her arm through Heather’s.
Together, they walked back into the store to face the donut boxes and weepy Jung.
Chapter 16
Heather floated on a donut-shaped cloud, glaze dripping directly into her open mouth. Heaven. The chocolate flavor spread across her lips, dribbled down her throat and coated her soul.
Rainbow bubble drifted by, each one containing a different flavored donut. Some of them were empty, though, and that one? Wait a second, what was that?
Heather rolled onto her stomach on the donut cloud and frowned.
“A piece of paper,” she said. “In the shape of a wheelchair.”
That made perfect sense, of course. Why wouldn’t there be a piece of paper shaped like a wheelchair in a rainbow bubble?
Heather buried her face in the cloud and inhaled the scent of warm, sugary donut. She took a bite and chewed, then lifted her head again. The paper wheelchair bubble floated up to her.
A pin appeared in her fingers.
“A pin?” Heather examined the steel spike. “Pins pop bubbles, you know,” she said, to the pin. “Or is it needles? You’ll do, I guess.”
Heather launched the pin at the bubble. A resonant pop rocked the cloud, and the rainbow bubble burst into a trillion smaller bubbles.
The wheelchair paper drifted to the surface of her donut cloud.
Letters ran down its length, written in bright red, bold print.
I HATE RANDY MORTON.
“That’s not nice,” Heather said, wrinkling her nose. “Why would anyone write such a horrible thing in a rainbow bubble? Terrible. Mean.”
She tilted her head to read another line.
MY GRANDSON IS WORTHLESS.
“Grandson? Randy’s grandmother is –”
Heather clawed herself awake. She bolted upright on the sofa in her living room and grabbed at the thin blanket around her waist. Sweat trickled down the sides of her face and wet the back of her neck.
Dave barked from the front door, and the doorbell trilled, over and over again.
“A dream,” Heather said, and checked her hands for pins and donuts. “Just a dream. Gosh, that was so trippy.”
She jumped off the sofa and hurried into the hall. The doorbell buzzed again and Dave dissolved into a frenzy. He ran in circles around Heather, yapping nonstop.
“For heaven’s sake, Dave, calm yourself.” Heather unlocked the door, then pulled it open.
Lilly stood on the doorstep. She grinned sheepishly and handed Heather her phone, then lowered her head. “I came to apologize.”
“What? Oh, Lilly, it’s wonderful to see you, again.” Heather peered out into the afternoon, shading her tired eyes from the glare. She blinked and looked down at Lilly’s phone. “Why did you give me this?”
“May I come in?” Lilly asked.
“Of course. Oh wait, does –?”
“Don’t worry,” Lilly said, “the Foster Folks know I’m here. I asked Colleen’s permission before I came.”
Heather nodded her semi-sleepy approval, then took a step back.
Lilly bustled into the entrance hall. She dropped to her knees and Dave crawled into her lap, immediately. The licking commenced, but at least the barking had stopped.
“I’m sorry I got so angry, Heather. I was really upset because I wanted to help you.”
“I know, Lilly, but it’s not safe for you to help,” Heather said. She bent and stroked Lilly’s head. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Who knows, maybe one day you can be a cop or a private investigator. Right now, you need to focus on your studies and being a kid.”
Lilly patted Dave to calm him, nodding at the same time. “You’re right. That’s why I gave you my phone.”
Heather frowned and lifted the cell. She unlocked it and blinked at the background – an image of Dave the dog, of course.
“Why?”
“That day that I got in trouble? It was because I snuck out of the house and I went all the way to Randy’s place. I wanted to snoop around and see if I could find anything.” Lilly sighed. “But it was all empty and quiet. Then I heard a noise from upstairs. So I went up there too and that’s when I started recording.”
Shock juddered through Heather’s chest and she gripped the cell tight. “Lilly, do you realize how dangerous that was?”
“I know. I already told Bill and Colleen all about it and apologized.”
She’d told her foster parents and they’d allowed her to come visit ‘the bad influence’ anyway. That had to be a good sign.
“You need to see the video, Heather. It’s really important. I promise I’ll never do anything bad like that again, okay?” Lilly picked up Dave and hugged him to her chest. She kissed the top of his head and he grunted – a happy Dave noise.
Heather didn’t ask questions. She tapped through to Lilly’s videos and opened the only file in her gallery.
Metal stairs jumped into sharp relief on the screen. Lilly’s footsteps clanged on the grates. She huffed and puffed, then stopped in front of Mama Morton’s door.
Heather bit her bottom lip, nerves bubbling up beneath her calm exterior. What could it be? What had Lilly captured.
The camera focused on the window beside Miriam’s door and zoomed in.
An image of Mama Morton in her wheelchair appeared and the blurriness disappeared.
“Lilly?” Heather asked. “What –?”
The old woman got up out of her wheelchair and walked into the kitchen. Two or three seconds ticked by, and Mama Morton reappeared carrying a mug of tea. She walked to her armchair, then sat down and picked up her remote control for the TV.
“She’s walking,” Heather whispered. “She’s walking!”
“That’s what I tried to tell you,” Lilly said. “She’s been lying about needing the wheelchair all along.”
Heather shook her head, then replayed the video. She stared at Mama Morton striding across the screen. It wasn’t even a hobble. It was a full on, powerful walk.
“I don’t believe it.
” Heather handed Lilly her phone. “Actually, I do. Lills, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Forward that to my husband. I’ve got to run upstairs and get my handbag, then I’m taking you back to your foster parents,” Heather said. She didn’t wait for the girl’s answer.
There wasn’t time. She had to get to Mama Morton’s. Now.
Chapter 17
Heather hurried down the front stairs of Lilly’s home and back to her car, her heart pounding for the fiftieth time that week. The video had broken ground in her mind.
If Miriam could walk, then she might’ve been strong enough to take Randy by surprise. Heck, she could’ve drugged the donut they’d found in his mouth, then strangled him after the fact.
Although, there hadn’t been any news of that from a toxicology report, as far as she’d heard. Then again, she hadn’t heard much.
“Ugh, my mind is all muddled up,” Heather said. She stopped by her car and caught a breather.
Amy’s yoga techniques worked wonders whenever she was too stressed.
Heather breathed in for four counts, held it for two, then breathed out again. Serenity flushed out the panic, her core relaxed, and she leaned her forehead on the top of her car.
She needed to think.
She’d run off and accused innocent people before, and that never ended well for anyone, particularly not for Heather.
“Okay, so granny grumps can walk. Big deal. That doesn’t mean that she did. I need more evidence than that.” Frustration replaced the sense of calm pervading her limbs.
Heather formed fists and rammed them onto her hips. Her car keys bit into the flesh of her palm.
“But she hated him,” Heather said. “She totally hated her grandson. She called him names. She was overbearing, and she had information she shouldn’t have had. And he changed that life policy.”
But the puzzle pieces didn’t fit together perfectly. The image wasn’t as clear as it should’ve been.
“What’s missing?’ Heather whispered.
Her phone rang in her pocket, and she jumped. Heather worked it out of her jeans, then swiped her thumb across the screen to answer.
“Hello?”
“Heather, it’s Jung,” her assistant said. His voice didn’t shake this time.
“Oh hey, is everything okay at the store? Do you guys need me there?”
“No, I’m calling about the insurance policy. I spoke to the guy who dealt directly with Randy during the change,” Jung said. “And I managed to get an answer out of him.”
“What did he say?” Heather stared over the top of her car, at the tree in Bill and Colleen’s front yard. A tire swing hung from a branch, swaying back and forth ever so slightly.
“He said that Randy came in distraught. He demanded to change it because he didn’t want his grandmother to have any money.”
“Wow, that’s exactly what we thought it would be,” Heather said.
“Yeah, and the guy said that Randy left instruction for me to use the money wisely and spend it on people in need. That I should take care of his funeral arrangements, but after that, it was to be used for the disenfranchised youth in and around Hillside,” Jung said. “I’m ready that directly off the piece of paper the guy gave me.”
Heather welled up, in spite of the situation. Randy had had a kind heart, after all. His grandmother, not so much.
“Listen, Jung, I’d like to see that letter,” Heather said.
But Jung didn’t answer. Rustling and scraping came through on the other end of the line. A yell, and then a familiar voice. A moment of silence.
“What on earth? Jung? Are you there?” Heather asked. “Jung!”
“Heather?” Amy’s voice on the line splashed cool water into Heather’s soul.
“Ames, what on earth is going on down there?”
“Ryan just came in and arrested Jung,” Amy replied. “He’s cuffing him and reading him his rights, now.”
Heather gasped. Tremors ran up and down her arms, her fingers clenched reflexively. She rammed the phone into her ear. “You’re not serious. Can you put Ryan on the phone?”
“Hold on a sec,” Amy said.
The scratching and muffled voices started up again, and Heather tapped her foot on the sidewalk, thoughts racing through her mind. How had it come to this?
Ryan couldn’t have enough evidence to lock up her assistant. Was this necessary?
“Yeah, hello?” Amy again.
“Where’s Ryan.”
“He can’t come to the phone, right now. He’s escorting Jung out to his cruiser. I’m sorry, Heather, I don’t know what else to do.” Amy’s voice trembled for a change.
She’d been a rock after her initial breakdown a couple of months ago.
“Heather?”
“I’m here,” she replied. “I’m here. You can’t do anything?” Of course, she couldn’t. What was Amy supposed to do? Interfere with a police investigation?
“No, I can’t.”
Heather hesitated a second. The facts swirled around her head, barely visible glimmers of hope. She snatched at them. She needed to stop Jung from getting hurt.
“All right,” Heather said. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“I’ll do what I can, but I don’t think it’s much,” Amy replied, then hung up.
Trust Amy to be pragmatic about the whole thing.
Heather tucked her phone back into her pocket, then unlocked her car and slipped into the driver’s seat. She started the engine, then drove off down the road, focus burning her eyes.
Or maybe that was a start of a migraine.
“I’m coming, Jung,” Heather muttered. She’d be late, for sure. Ryan was a professional. He wouldn’t hang around after he’d made his arrest.
What was worse, he wouldn’t make an arrest unless he deemed it necessary.
Heather shook her head. “No. It’s not possible. Jung wouldn’t hurt a fly. He wouldn’t!” She tightened her grip on the wheel, and her knuckles turned white. But what if he had?
Her assistant, an employee of Donut Delights, her good friend.
“No,” she repeated. “Don’t you doubt him for a minute.”
Heather put her foot down. If she didn’t make it in time, she had a backup plan. Evidence to bring to light. And a grandma to interview.
Chapter 18
“Are you ready for this?” Heather asked. “You’re about to meet the least friendly woman in the world.”
“If she gives my mom a run for her money, I’ll be surprised,” Amy replied, but the humor didn’t shine through in her voice.
Jung’s arrest had put a dent in Amy’s usually sunny disposition.
Heather had arrived at Donut Delights, just in time to see Ryan’s taillights disappearing at the end of the street. Ames had arrived at work in time to see Jung’s arrest.
Both women sat back and sighed, staring up at the dull fluorescent sign of Randy’s Burger Bar, plastered against the brick-faced wall.
“What do we know?” Amy asked.
“We know we have to save Jung from unlawful incarceration,” Heather replied. “And, well, that Randy didn’t trust his grandmother. I think he hated her. And she could walk. She can walk, I mean.”
“What?!” Amy asked.
“Yeah, Lilly got her on a recording. She can walk,” Heather said, then shook her head. “And I had her forward the evidence to Ryan, and everything.”
Amy sucked her bottom lip. “I’m worried, Heather. A part of me is freaked out about this. What if Jung did do it?”
“Amy!”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t considered that option, yet. I know you’re a good investigator. You check all the leads out. You use all the puzzle pieces.” Amy unclipped her seat belt and turned to face her bestie. “But what if he did? Ryan wouldn’t arrest him for nothing.”
Heather broke eye contact with Amy and stared up at the building instead. The metal staircase beckoned through the dusk.
Evening had fallen quickly, the purple hue of post-sunset had hazed to gray.
Lamppost clicked on along the street.
“Maybe we should leave this one to Ryan. Trust him, you know?”
“No,” Heather replied. “Not about the trusting thing. I do. But something doesn’t make sense here. Facts are gnawing at the back of my mind, and I need to figure out why.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something about this building that keeps drawing me back here. I don’t know what it is. I just, ugh. Let’s go up and talk to her. Maybe we can weasel a confession out of the old bat and be done with it,” Heather said.
She clunked her car door open, then got out. The warm evening embraced her in its dusky arms, wrapping her in the scents of the city. Trees, exhaust fumes, the smells of cooking from a hundred different flats and restaurants. And something else.
“Ew, what’s that smell?” Amy asked, bumping the door to the passenger’s side closed with her hip. “That’s gross.”
“I don’t know, but it smells like, garbage?”
“Poop. It smells like poop.” Amy grabbed a fistful of her blouse and blocked her nose and mouth with it. “Can we go upstairs now?”
Heather led the way to the staircase, then hurried up it, her open sandals clanging on the grated metal. She halted on Mama Morton’s metal ‘porch’ then knocked on the old woman’s door.
“Who’s there?!” Morton screeched. “I’m armed and not afraid to use it.”
“Armed?” Amy asked, lifting two fingers and forming a cross to ward off the presence of evil.
Heather batter her fingers down. “Beware of flying cups,” she said.
“Who are you?”
“Mrs. Morton? It’s Heather. I visited you a few days ago?” She tapped her sandaled feet on the metal, tapping out a rhythm instead of humming a tune, this time.
The rasp of those five or ten locks broke Miriam’s silence. The door swung inward, and her face appeared at waist-height again. “What do you want?” She asked, pursing her wrinkled lips. “And who’s that?”
Chocolate Crunch Murder Page 6