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Authors: Jessica Beck

Glazed Murder (17 page)

BOOK: Glazed Murder
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"Come on, you can eat them in back while I finish cleaning up."

 

George nodded. "Let me grab some coffee first."

 

I looked at the pot, now empty. "Hang on. I'll make a fresh batch. It'll just take a second."

 

"Don't do it for me. I'll have some chocolate milk instead. That I'll pay for myself, though."

 

I nodded. "I guess I can live with that."

 

After I had him set up in back, I asked, "So, what do I need to hear? Or was that just an excuse to get your hands on some of my donuts?"

 

He finished a hole with one bite. "No, it's just a bonus. I've been digging into Allied Construction and BR Investments."

 

"You've got my undivided attention," I said as I finished rinsing the equipment I'd used to make the rush batch of donuts. "The investment broker is the dirty one, isn't it?"

 

"No, it's just the opposite," George said. "That guy checks out. But Allied has been doing something with construction loans that isn't kosher. Their contact with the bank was Blaine, and it looks like he didn't come through on some promises to get them more cash. It turns out that they're in a real bind, and with the banker dead, everything's getting a closer look from the authorities."

 

I frowned. "Wouldn't they have known that was going to happen? If their business was in trouble, and Patrick was helping prop them up, he'd be the last person they could afford to murder."

 

George scratched his head. "I guess that makes sense, but there's one thing you're forgetting."

 

"What's that?"

 

"Most criminals don't think things through that thoroughly. I'm guessing he made somebody mad and they got rid of him, no matter what the consequences."

 

"I guess it's possible," I said. "What do we do now?"

 

"I'm going to keep digging," he said as he polished off the last donut hole. "I figure as long as I'm on the payroll, I might as well earn my keep."

 

"Would you like more donut holes to go? I've got a ton of them on hand."

 

"No," he said as he patted his belly. "I better not. I'm getting a little heavier than I like."

 

"Join the club," I said. "Thanks for coming by."

 

"Thanks for the treat," he said. After he looked around the shop, he asked, "How long do you plan to hang out here all by yourself?"

 

"I'm nearly done cleaning up," I said.

 

"Good. Then I'll walk you out."

 

"George," I said. "I thought we already had this conversation. I appreciate your concern, but I'm a grown woman. I can look out for myself."

 

He held his palms up. "Take it easy, then. I'll touch base with you later."

 

We were nearly to the door when he stopped.
"There's something else you should know. If you find yourself in trouble, call me or Jake Bishop."

 

"Not Chief Martin?" I asked, curious because I knew that he and George had mutual respect for each other from his time on the force.

 

"There are some bad stories going around about cops taking payoffs to look the other way, and I'm not sure who you should trust."

 

"You think the chief is dirty?" I asked, not able to believe it.

 

"No, I'd vouch for him with my life." George frowned, then he said, "You can call him, too. I'd stake my life on the fact that he's clean."

 

"Sure, but are you willing to risk mine?"

 

"Suzanne, this isn't a joke. It's happened in towns smaller than ours, and from what I hear, once a cop starts going around with his hand out, the slide the rest of the way down isn't that hard to make."

 

"I'll be careful," I said.

 

I let him out, then I finished the few chores I had left to get the place cleaned up and ready for the next day. I was worn out. That double batch of donuts had been enough to push me over the edge, and I thought about going home to catch a quick nap before I went out hunting for a killer again.

 

Then I remembered the donut holes. What on earth was I going to do with them? I was too tired to go on a fishing expedition with them, so it would be a good idea to donate them to the church.

 

I saw Gabby standing out in front of her shop, no doubt waiting for me to appear, and I decided to kill two birds with one batch of donut holes.

 

As I locked the shop up, I looked over at Gabby. "I'm so glad you're here. I need a huge favor."

 

Gabby looked startled by my preemptive question, no doubt killing the dozen queries she was readying for me.

 

"Of course, all you have to do is ask."

 

I put the boxes of donut holes into her arms. "I need to get these to the church, but I'm so beat, I might not make it. Would you take them for me?"

 

I knew Gabby would jump at the chance, no doubt taking the credit when she delivered them, but I didn't care. While I kept regular hours no matter what, she was known to shut down on the slightest whim.

 

"Yes, I'd be delighted. You do look weary. You're not getting any younger, you know," she said smugly.

 

"None of us are," I replied, trying not to put any sting into my words. I knew I wasn't getting enough sleep, and that I probably looked like something the cat dragged in, but I didn't need to be reminded of it.

 

"You're a dear," I said.

 

"It's my fatal flaw," Gabby said. "I give too much."

 

Too much unwanted advice, I said to myself.

 

I got into the Jeep, and drove back to the house.

 

As I went past our local newsstand, Two Cows and a Moose, the pretty young brunette proprietress, Emily Hargraves, waved at me. When she'd first opened up shop, I'd asked her about the unusual name. She'd told me that growing up, she'd had three stuffed animals that she loved more than anything else in the world, named--appropriately enough--Cow, Spots, and Moose. When I told her that she might want to choose a name that said something
more about the kind of business she ran, she laughed the suggestion off, but I had to wonder if the moniker had caused a lot of unnecessary confusion in her clientele. Word had gotten out, though, and even I had to admit that the stuffed cows and the moose perched on a shelf of honor above the cash register was an amusing touch. Oddly enough, in our town full of eccentrics, she fit right in.

 

Back home, Momma was out, thank goodness, doing who knows what, but it saved me from explaining my need for a nap, so that was good enough for me.

 

As I walked up onto the porch, I found myself wishing for springtime. I had a hammock I mounted on brackets between two posts during nicer weather, something that let me sway in the breeze from the park. If it hadn't been in the low fifties, I might have put it up anyway, but the folks around April Springs thought I was crazy enough without adding to the legend of the donut lady.

 

I couldn't bring myself to go into my bedroom, so I grabbed my favorite blanket and curled up on the couch. I must have fallen asleep before my head hit the cushion, because I didn't remember a thing until the telephone rang a few minutes later.

 

I steadfastly ignored it, promising myself that I'd earned my nap, and I wasn't going to let someone else ruin it.

 

The phone rang three more times, and then it kicked over to the answering machine.

 

It was Momma.

 

"Suzanne, are you there? Pick up. I'm worried about you."

 

I grabbed the phone. "Hey, I'm here."

 

"Why didn't you pick up, then?"

 

I sighed. "I was napping."

 

"In the middle of the day?"

 

"Momma, I'm worn out. I'll talk to you later."

 

I hung up the phone, and settled back down onto the couch.

 

Just then, the phone rang again.

 

I grabbed it. "What."

 

"You never gave me a chance to tell you why I was calling," my mother said. "I won't be home for dinner tonight, so you should make your own plans."

 

I couldn't resist. "What's going on? Do you have a hot date?"

 

She sighed heavily. "Suzanne, I've had the love of my life. Why on earth would I care to look for a pale imitation? I'm having dinner with Jenny White."

 

She and Jenny had been friends since elementary school, and they had had dinner together once a month for as long as I could remember. I felt duly chastened, which I was certain was my mother's intent. "Have fun."

 

"Oh, I plan to."

 

I hung up a second time, and had settled back on the couch when the phone rang again. It appeared that a nap was out of the question.

 

I picked it up, then without waiting, I said, "I'm getting tired of this. If you have that much to say to me, you should just come home and tell me face-to-face."

 

"Okay, if that's the way you want it, it suits me fine," Jake Bishop said. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

 

He hung up before I had the chance to respond.

 

"Blast it, when am I going to learn?" I said out loud.

 

I decided to meet Jake outside. The day had warmed up after a chilly morning, and the temperature had to be near sixty. With our southern-facing porch, I could feel the afternoon rays on my cheeks, and it felt good. Sitting on the steps, I could watch the birds and squirrels in the park. It had been a great place to grow up, with a woodland wonderland just outside my bedroom door, and I felt sorry for any child who didn't have their own personal park nearby.

 

As good as his word, Jake Bishop drove up before ten minutes had passed.

 

As he approached, he said, "That looks like a little slice of paradise."

 

"It is," I said. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

 

"That would be nice," he said, his tone gentler than it had been before. "Do you mind if I drink it out here?"

 

"I think that's a perfect idea."

 

I ducked inside, grabbed two mugs, filled them from the pot on the counter, and rejoined him.

 

His eyes were closed when I got back, and there was a cute little crooked smile on his lips. For a second, I could see what he must have been like as a boy.

 

He must have sensed me staring at him. His eyes opened, and he admitted sheepishly, "That sun feels so good. What a great place this must have been to grow up."

 

"I was just thinking the same thing," I said as I handed him the mug. "What brings you out this way?" Before he could answer, I added quickly, "I'm
sorry I was so abrupt on the telephone. I thought you were someone else."

 

"Do I even want to know who?"

 

I shook my head. "My mother seems to be inordinately worried about me lately."

 

"She's a good woman," Jake said.

 

"I know, but sometimes she pushes just a little too hard."

 

He took a sip of the coffee. "I thought that was what mothers were for."

 

I put my mug down, then I said, "So, now that we've got that settled, what brings you out my way, besides my forceful invitation?"

 

"I was wondering if you were free tonight."

 

My neck tensed. "Why? Do you have more questions for me?"

 

He grinned. "No, I'm all out at the moment, but I thought it might be fun taking you out to dinner. I'm tired of eating dinner every night by myself, if you want to know the truth of the matter."

 

"What a romantic proposition," I said. "I'm guessing you're not married, but what's your girlfriend going to think?"

 

"What makes you think I have one?"

 

I shrugged. "I don't know. I just took a stab in the dark."

 

Jake ran a hand through his hair. "I know it's hard to believe, but I don't have a girlfriend at the moment."

 

"Trust me; it's not that hard to believe."

 

He smiled at me, and I felt that same rush I'd felt before. It was the budding of something new, full of possibilities and promise.

 

Jake said, "Now it's your turn. Why aren't you with someone? Do you still have feelings for Max?"

 

"How do you know about my ex-husband?" I asked. "Have you been digging into my life?"

 

"Relax, Suzanne. This is a small town, and folks talk. I don't want to step in where I'm not welcome. If you and your ex-husband are trying to work things out, I don't want to get in the way of that."

 

"My ex-husband, no matter what impression he may be under, is part of my past, and I intend to keep him there." A thought suddenly occurred to me. "What about your stand on not going out until the case is solved?"

 

"Ordinarily, I'm a real believer in rules, but this is one I'm willing to bend, just for you."

 

I thought about that, then I nodded. I'd been thinking entirely too much of Max lately, and Jake just might be a way for me to break out of that bad habit. "In that case, I'd love to have dinner with you."

 

"It's a date, then," he said. "Should I pick you up around seven?"

 

"You could, if you want me to yawn until eight, which is my bedtime. Sorry, but I keep some odd hours."

 

"Of course you do," he said, laughing. He glanced at his watch. "It's a little after four. Would you like to go get something to eat right now?"

 

"Aren't you still on duty?"

 

"I won't tell anybody I'm playing hooky if you won't," he said. "What do you say?"

 

"Give me half an hour, then come back to get me," I said. "I need to get ready."

 

"You look fine to me just like you are."

 

I took the mug from him and smiled. "Thirty minutes, Jake, and not a minute sooner."

 

He stood, and I caught myself looking into his eyes. This could be trouble, and I knew it. But that still didn't keep me from feeling that flutter again.

 

"Thirty minutes it is."

 

I waited on the porch until he was gone, then raced upstairs to shower and change. I wasn't sure what the evening would bring, but I was excited about the prospects, and that was something that hadn't happened in a very long time.

 

GINGERBREAD "STICKS AND
STONES" DONUTS

 

These donuts are wonderful, a real gingerbread treat that fries up beautifully. I have to admit, I used to make these as regular donuts, but one day I decided to make logs and balls from the dough, and thus "sticks and stones" were born. They taste even better than the rounds, in my opinion.
BOOK: Glazed Murder
3.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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