Deadly Donuts (18 page)

I knew for a fact that George loved his job most of the time, and that he was speaking out of frustration right now.
 
“Does that mean that you aren’t going to run again?”

George frowned at his coffee, took a sip, and then he said, “Of course I’m running again.
 
I’ve never felt so useful since I retired.
 
I know that I used to help you with your investigations, but it was never a fulltime job for me.”

“Believe me, no one wants you to run for reelection more than I do, but in order to keep your job, you have to be careful how you are perceived.
 
With Polly involved, it can go all kinds of ways wrong for you.”

“That’s just it, though,” he said after taking a bite of his donut.
 
“Nobody knows she’s a part of this mess except for you and Grace.”

“And whoever the blackmailer might have told before he died.”

“That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?
 
Polly told me everything that happened with her late husband, and she didn’t do anything wrong, not legally or ethically.
 
Morgan was going after the wrong mark when he focused on her.”

“Is
everyone
going to feel that way if they hear about what happened?
 
You know the folks who live in this town as well as I do.
 
Tongues will wag; you can be sure of it.
 
Right now, Grace and I are trying to keep a low profile investigating, but if you get involved, the attention’s going to really step up, and what’s more, I think you know that as well as I do.”

The mayor frowned, and then he rotated his neck a little trying to clear out some of the tension in it.
 
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.
 
It’s just so frustrating having to stand on the sidelines while you do all the work.”

“And hog all of the fun too, right?” I asked.

“There’s not much that’s amusing about this.”

“I know that the crimes have been atrocious, but I don’t have to tell you about the satisfaction you feel when you catch the bad guy.”

“You’ve got the bug now, don’t you?” he asked with a smile.

“What are you talking about?” I asked as I grabbed another donut for him.
 
One was usually his limit, but this was not a typical day, and I thought he could use a little more of the TLC that my comfort food provided.

“You
like
digging into murder.”

“Like I said, I like the fact that the bad guys have to pay for their actions,” I replied.

“Solve this one, Suzanne.”

“We’re doing our best.”

“I know that you are.”
 
He took a five from his wallet, and then he pointed to the second donut I’d just given him.
 
“Put that one in a bag and I’ll eat it at my desk.”

As I bagged the second donut, I asked, “Won’t Polly fuss at you for having it?”
 
She was well known around town for keeping him from indulging too much.

“She’s not coming in today,” George replied.
 
“As a matter of fact, she’s taking some time off until things settle down.
 
This has all brought up a lot of bad memories for her, and she needs some time to deal with it in her own way.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said.
 
“I hope that Grace and I didn’t make things worse with her.”

“No apology necessary.
 
Polly told me that if it weren’t for the two of you confronting her like that, she might have melted down from the stress of it all.
 
Telling the two of you all about it was cathartic for her, and by the time she filled me in, she was starting to get a handle on it.
 
Sure, she shed a few tears, but the odd thing was that as soon as her crying jag ended, she felt instantly better.
 
If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never understand that woman.”

“That’s all a part of the fun of it, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” George said as he headed for the door.
 
“Keep me informed,” he said with a grin, “or I’ll have every parking space within a mile of this place changed to a ‘no parking zone.’”

“Wow, that’s just plain mean,” I answered with a smile of my own.

“Good luck,” my friend said, and then he headed out the door as a pair of men in suits walked into the shop.
 
I held my breath as they approached, wondering if their visit had anything to do with Morgan Briar’s murder.
 
Fortunately, I was soon relieved to learn that they just wanted two coffees to go.

“I wanted to love this book; I really did,” Jennifer said a little later as my book club gathered at our favorite couch in Donut Hearts.
 
“The cover was really well done, the description on the back was intriguing, and the first chapter was wonderful, too.
 
I’m afraid she lost me soon after that, though.”
 
There was just the four of us in the club, but we always had a good time discussing our latest pick.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Elizabeth answered.
 
“I’m so sorry.
 
The author was so nice, really funny, and just plain charming, that I may have read it with my rose-colored glasses on.”

“Do you correspond with her online, too?” I asked.
 
Elizabeth loved emailing authors, and I was always really surprised by how many actually responded.

“No.
 
She stays away from the Internet entirely, at least as far as I’ve been able to determine.
 
The Facebook page she has was created by her publisher, and there’s not even any way to contact her on her website.”

“That’s odd these days, isn’t it?” Hazel asked as she picked at her donut.
 
She was constantly on a diet, but you’d never know it by the way she ate during our meetings.

“It’s just about unheard of,” Elizabeth confirmed.

“You know what?” I asked.
 
“I don’t care if they hide in a cave and never come out, just as long as they keep writing good books that I enjoy.
 
All of this emphasis on social media has to take a toll on them, and I have to believe that it hurts the books they write.
 
I wonder how much harder it must be to keep focused on what’s really important if you spend all of your time twittering and blogging online.”

“It’s called tweeting,” Elizabeth corrected me.

Jennifer was curious now.
 
“If she stays off the Internet, how do you know about her personality?”

“I’m certain that you all remember that I attended Malice Domestic last year,” she said, something she loved bringing up whenever the opportunity arose.
 
The conference was for mystery lovers and writers, and in Elizabeth’s opinion, we all owed ourselves a trip to next year’s conference.

“Of course,” Hazel said.
 
“Did you meet her there?
 
Was she on a panel?”

“Actually, we had breakfast together,” Elizabeth said, preening a little.

“And you never mentioned this before?” I asked, shocked by her reluctance to drop even the tiniest name in mystery writers.

“Well, I was so overwhelmed by the other authors present that I didn’t even realize she was a writer until I ran across her latest novel at the bookstore.”

“She jumps around an awful lot in this, doesn’t she?” I ventured.
 
“I found myself reading this book with a notepad handy just so I could keep track of who the characters were, and what they were up to.”

“I thought that it should have been at least twice as long as it was,” Hazel said.

“What?
 
You’re kidding, right?” I asked.
 
I was glad that I hadn’t been drinking coffee when she’d said it, or I would have drenched the other three.

“She couldn’t have made it any shorter,” Hazel said, “without taking out half the characters and dropping the scenes in London entirely.”

Jennifer seemed to think about it, and then she nodded.
 
“The more that I think about it, that’s exactly what she should have done.
 
Did she even
have
an editor for this book?
 
I understand it when a publisher is reluctant to interfere with a bestseller’s book, but this was no bestseller.”

“I don’t know,” I said.
 
“Can you imagine trying to sort this mess out, even if you’re a professional at it?
 
I’m wondering why they published it at all.”

“It’s beyond me,” Hazel said, and then she must have realized how it sounded.
 
“Maybe we’re just not the right audience for this one.”

“Maybe,” I agreed reluctantly.
 
“So, Elizabeth, who else was at your breakfast table at Malice?”
 

We spent the rest of the meeting chatting about our favorite writers, and according to Elizabeth, almost none of them actually looked like the photographs on their book jackets, web sites, and publicity shots.
 
It was great fun, and as always, I was thrilled with the opportunity to get away from my own life and worries for a little while and share my time with such nice women.
 
It had been my lucky day when they’d first stumbled into my donut shop looking for a place to hold their meeting.
 
They’d taken me in immediately, and I’d never regretted the time I’d spent joining them since.

Chapter 15

“Jake, I wasn’t sure when I’d hear from you!” I said with delight as I answered my cell phone at the front counter later that morning.
 
I normally would have had to think twice about taking the call if I’d been waiting on someone, but thankfully the customers I had visiting Donut Hearts at the moment were all enjoying their donuts, milk, and coffee.
 
That’s not entirely the truth, though.
 
I would have answered this call anyway,
after
apologizing to my customer, and calling Emma up front, because it was Jake.

“Do you have a second to talk?” he asked.
 
He sounded tired, and I wondered if he was getting any sleep at all.

“For you?
 
Anytime.
 
How’s it going?”

“Slowly,” he said, the weight of the investigation clearly taking some of the joy out of his voice.
 
“The Governor’s getting frustrated.
 
So are the rest of us, for that matter.”

“How’s your boss doing?” I asked.

“He must be getting better; he’s already fussed at me twice this morning.
 
The man’s cranky, but I can’t blame him.
 
If I were in his place, I’d be itching to get out into the field myself.”

“I bet he’s happy that you’re there.”

“If he is,” Jake said, and I could hear the smile creep in his voice as he spoke, “he’s doing a masterful job of hiding it.
 
Anything new on your front?”

I brought him up to date on what had been happening, not mentioning my free meal at Napoli’s, or the lack of help we’d gotten from his notebook.

He did it for me, though.

“Have you had a chance to look at my notes?”

“Just a quick glance,” I said, not wanting to complain about its lack of useful information.

“Don’t bother with it,” he said.
 
“On the drive to Raleigh, I’ve come up with your next move, and it has nothing to do with anything that I wrote.”

“How did you get the idea?” I asked, honestly curious about how he worked.
 
Grace and I investigated by the seats of our pants, going from clue to clue and basically following our instincts along the way.
 
Jake, on the other hand, was a seasoned investigator, who worked cases methodically until he cracked them wide open.

“Honestly, it didn’t occur to me until I had time to reflect on something that I’d heard earlier.
 
You need to find a man named Fred Harmon.
 
I’m beginning to think that he’s the key to what happened to Blake Briar all those years ago.
 
I keep thinking that if we tie that death up, it will lead us to Morgan’s killer.”

“Why do you believe that?”

“Call it a cop’s intuition,” Jake said.
 
“By the way, well done.
 
That was a real breakthrough getting Ellen to let you search her brother’s things.
 
It must have been hard for her to do.”

“I’m sure that it was.
 
I was willing to go over there early, but she told me that I had to follow her timetable, or not go at all.
 
I just hope there’s something there.
 
We have a few minor leads at this point, but nothing staggering.”

“Suzanne, you know how these things usually work,” he said.
 
“You just have to keep pounding until you’re able to come up with something you can use.”

“That’s what we’re doing,” I said.

“Listen, there’s one more thing…
 
Hang on.”
 
He covered the phone with his hand, but I could still hear some of his conversation.
 
As though from a distance, I heard him tell someone else, “Yes, sir.
 
Absolutely.
 
I understand.
 
I’ll take care of it right away.”
 
Then he removed his hand and got back to me.
 
“Sorry.
 
I have to go.”

I found myself staring at my dead telephone, wondering what Jake had been about to add, and even more, I was curious about who had just given him that order, and what it was about.
 
My boyfriend was definitely traveling in more important circles on this case than he usually did.

I just hoped that someone higher up didn’t take a liking to him and steal him for themselves.
 
Jake’s current schedule suited us just fine, and I hated the thought of him being tied down somewhere like Raleigh.
 
My shop was open seven days a week, and my weekends were usually my busiest times, so it wouldn’t bode well for us if he had to make that commute every weekend.
 
Oh, well.
 
I wouldn’t worry about that unless it became reality.

At the moment, I had plenty of problems of my own without adding phantom ones to the mix.

“Excuse me.
 
Are you Suzanne Hart?” a man asked me as I locked the front door of the shop, chalking up another day of making and selling donuts.
 
He was a large fellow, with hands that looked as though they could squeeze water out of granite.

“I am,” I said feeling suddenly nervous as I put my keys between my fingers to use as a weapon if I needed to fight back.
 
I ordinarily wasn’t that paranoid, but working on a murder case had a habit of doing that to me.

“I’m Cliff Gentry.
 
Heather Morningstar told me about you.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Gentry?”
 
The last thing I wanted to do was tip him off about what Heather had discussed with me.

“It’s Cliff.
 
And don’t worry.
 
I know everything.”

I still wasn’t sure that I should believe him.
 
“Would you care to explain what you mean by ‘everything’?”

Cliff grinned at me.
 
“My, you don’t give up
anything
, do you?
 
Would you like to call her and check up on me?”
 
He’d been joking, but I wasn’t.

“As a matter of fact, that’s a great idea.”
 
I took out my cell and dialed Heather’s number.

“Cliff’s here,” I said after we said our hellos.
 
“He says he knows everything.
 
Is that true?”

“It is,” she said, the relief clear in her voice.
 
“You can talk to him about anything he asks you about.”

“Okay.
 
I just wanted to check with you first.”

“Angelica was right about you,” Heather said with the hint of a laugh in her voice.
 
“You really
are
a woman of your word, aren’t you?”

“If I don’t have my honor, what do I have?” I asked.

After I hung up, I turned to Cliff and smiled.
 
“Now that that’s settled, what can I do for you?”

“I’m just touching base to see if you’ve been able to come up with anything.
 
Heather broke down and told me what happened just after you two spoke.
 
I’ve got you to thank for that, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“I’m happy that I could help, but I’m afraid there’s nothing new to report at this point.”

Cliff nodded, and then he said, “May I call you Suzanne?”

“You may,” I said, smiling at his comfortable way with people.

“Suzanne, I don’t know if Heather said anything to you, but I’m a man of certain means.
 
If there’s anything that cash can accomplish, I’m more than willing to kick in.
 
No limit, if I think it’s called for.”

Wow, could this man really afford to make that kind of offer?
 
He clearly loved and cared about Heather.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture, that’s not the way I work.
 
I get most of my information from folks who trust me, and the kind of people I talk to would be offended if I took out my checkbook.”

“I understand that, but there are times when a little persuasion is required.
 
No, that’s not right.
 
Maybe incentive would be a better word for it.”

“I get it.
 
If I need any inducements, I’ll give Heather a call, and she can get in touch with you.”

Cliff frowned as he handed me his business card.
 
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you phone me directly.
 
That number is the best way to reach me.”

I took the card and felt the rich texture of the stock, and ran a finger across the raised burgundy letters printed on a cream field.
 
“I will.”
 
As he started to walk away, I asked, “I take it the wedding is still on?”

“It would take a great deal more than this past indiscretion for me to change my mind.
 
Heather is the love of my life.
 
I won’t hold her responsible for something that happened long before I ever met her.”

“Cliff, you’re quite the catch, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Because of the cash?” he asked.

I looked long and hard with him before I spoke.
 
“Is that what you really think?”

Cliff studied me in turn for a moment, and then he said, “Of course not.
 
It was nice meeting you, Suzanne.”

“You, too.”

“Listen, if you’d be at all interested, we’d love to have you come to our wedding.
 
I know that Heather would be delighted.”

I had too much work to do with this case to drop everything and start socializing with my suspects.
 
“Tell you what.
 
If we catch the killer in two days, Grace and I will be there.”

“Is she your… partner?” he asked delicately.

“Actually, she’s my best friend.
 
I have a hunch that I couldn’t get my boyfriend to come with me under gunpoint.
 
Besides, he’s got a case that he’s working on himself.”

“Nevertheless, if he can free up some time, you’re all welcome.”

“Thanks again.”

As Cliff headed off to a limousine that I hadn’t noticed before, Grace walked up and joined me on the sidewalk.
 
“Who was that?” she asked as Cliff got into the back.

“He’s Heather Morningstar’s fiancé,” I said.

Grace frowned.
 
“Does he know what happened?”

“Knows it, forgives it, and has offered to support us financially to fix it.”

“He must be quite a guy,” she said as the car pulled away.

“He invited you, Jake, and me to the wedding.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him that if we were able to find the murderer in time, we’d be delighted.”

Grace grinned at me.
 
“You and I might be happy to go, but I doubt that Jake will be all that pleased about the invitation.”

“Then you and I will go together.”

“In the meantime,” Grace said, “Shall we go to Ellen’s place and start digging?”

I glanced at my watch.
 
“We’d better hustle.
 
We’re on a tight schedule, remember?”

“Maybe I’d better drive,” she said.

“You’re on.”

As we neared Ellen’s place, I pointed to the side of the road and said, “There it is, remember?
 
Pull in by the doghouse.”

Grace did as I instructed, and as we got out, I touched the roof of the doghouse with one hand.
 
Whoever had spruced the canine domicile up should have used the paint on the house instead.
 
The shutters were peeling, and the faded wooden siding was showing some serious signs of disrepair.

“Boy, she’s really not much for maintenance around here, is she?” Grace asked.

“The dog lives better than she does.
 
Let’s go in and see what we can find.”
 
I took the keys Ellen had given me and unlocked the three locks she had on her front door.
 
“It appears that she spent her budget on security for this place.”

I opened the locks, one after the other, and the door swung open.
 
I didn’t go in just yet, though.
 
I stood there for a second, poised to slam it.
 
“Here, Spike.
 
Here, boy.”

There was no response inside.

“It appears to be safe,” I said as Grace and I walked in together.

“I know for one that
I’m
relieved.
 
Let’s find Morgan’s room and start digging.”

It was the second door that we opened, and Grace and I both knew the moment we peeked inside that this was where Morgan had been staying since he’d been released from prison.
 
The place was in perfect order, everything put away properly, and the bed made with military precision.

“Wow, he was extremely neat, wasn’t he?”