Killer Crullers (29 page)

“Another time, then,” Momma said. “I’ll go see what’s holding up your discharge.”

After she was gone, I turned back to Jake. “You were about to tell me something, and from the look on your face, I had a feeling that it was important.”

Jake looked at me and smiled. “All I was going to say was that I love you.”

“Pardon me? I didn’t quite catch that,” I said as my heart danced in my chest.

He took my head in his hands, kissed me gently, and then repeated, “I love you.”

As far as I was concerned, I could have died right there. I’d heard the words I’d begun to doubt I would ever hear from him, and suddenly, all of my problems, even my ankle, didn’t matter anymore.

He loved me.

That was what really counted.

He loved me.

BACON DONUT BURGER

This treat should come with a warning from the surgeon general, it’s so full of fat and calories. When they started serving them at the North Carolina State Fair recently, I was tempted to try one, but my doctor tackled me just in time! Don’t blame me if you try this one at home!

INGREDIENTS

• 1 Krispy Kreme donut (I’m in the South, it’s almost a food group down here)

• 1½ pound hamburger patty, cooked on the grill

• 2 slices cheddar cheese

• 2 slices bacon

DIRECTIONS

Fry your bacon first, then grill the burger, putting the cheese on top at the last minute. Remove from heat and add the bacon to the top, then pat the skillet you fried the bacon in, leaving about a tablespoon of grease. Cut the donut in half on the horizontal, and fry in the grease until browned and a little toasted. Take the hamburger stack and place it between the donut buns, and if you still have the nerve, take a bite!

Yield: 1 burger

And now a look at the next Donut Shop Mystery,

DROP DEAD CHOCOLATE

—available soon from Jessica Beck and St. Martin’s / Minotaur Paperbacks!

I guess you could say that the murder was partly my fault. After all, I was the one who urged my mother to run for mayor of April Springs. If I’d had the slightest idea what that would lead to, I like to think that I would have kept my mouth shut when the subject first came up.

But then again, knowing me, I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop myself then, either, even with the foreknowledge of what was to come.

And one of our town’s citizens would be dead because of it.

Worse yet, suspicion would turn its head to me and my family once again, and I would be thrown into another murder investigation that I didn’t ask for.

*   *   *

“This is outrageous,” my mother said as she walked into the cottage we shared late one afternoon.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” I said as I sat up from the couch where I’d been napping. I worked some pretty brutal hours, so I tried my best to grab some rest whenever the opportunity afforded itself. “What exactly are we upset about this time?”

“Suzanne, I’m not in the mood for your witty banter. Our mayor has finally gone off the deep end. Did you read the newspaper this morning?”

As the owner and head baker at Donut Hearts, I got to work every morning at three
A.M.
, well before the newspaper was even printed, and I didn’t exactly have time to sit around reading all morning. There were donuts and coffee to sell, tables to clean, and customers to greet. Emma, my young assistant who worked with me, kept up with dishes in back while we were open, but the most important part of her day was helping me make the donuts six days a week. She got one day off to rest, but I was there every day that ended in
y
. Part of the joy of being a small-business owner.

I stretched as I said, “Sorry, I didn’t have the time. What has Emma’s dad been up to now? Is he trying to stir up trouble to increase his circulation again?” The
April Springs Sentinel
was barely more than an advertising machine, but every now and then, Ray Blake liked to write an editorial or post a controversial interview to boost his readership. He was barely one step above a tabloid as far as most folks around town were concerned, though I knew that deep in his heart, he considered himself a true journalist.

“There’s a story here about our mayor,” Momma said. “You need to read this.”

As she handed me the paper, I said, “Why don’t you save us both some time and give me the condensed version.”

“Suzanne, this is important.”

I knew from her tone of voice that there was no escaping it, so I took the newspaper and checked it out.

The headline blared out, ‘Mayor Cam Hamilton Awarded County Job. Big Stink.’

“What’s this about?” I asked Momma.

“Read on,” she said, clearly too upset to add more.

The story read, “This reporter has uncovered the carefully guarded secret that our mayor has submitted for and won a contract to construct the new county waste disposal treatment plant on the edge of town. Normally happy to work on small jobs around our quaint fair city to leave more time for his mayoral duties, Hamilton has decided to go big-time, and something doesn’t smell quite right about our commander in chief going after a taxpayer-funded job while he’s in office.”

“Can he do that?” I asked, looking up from the newspaper. “It doesn’t seem legal.”

Momma’s lips were pursed into a pair of thin lines before she spoke. “I checked, and there’s nothing specific in our town charter that forbids it, but one of his cronies is on the committee that awarded him the job. For once, I think the
Sentinel
got it right. There is a big stink about this, despite the clever play on words regarding a treatment plant. He needs to walk away from this.”

“Fat chance he’ll ever do that,” I said, remembering how self-important our mayor could be. He’d once told me that the police department worked for him, not the citizens of April Springs, and when I’d informed him that things didn’t work like that in our part of North Carolina, he’d nearly thrown me out of his office.

Momma said, “If he doesn’t, I’ll make him sorry.”

“Are you going to run against him?” I asked. “You’d make a great mayor, and the election’s coming up soon.”

She looked at me askance. “Suzanne, I’m not a politician.”

“That’s why it’s so perfect,” I said. “Think about all of the good you could do as mayor. There wouldn’t be any of this nonsense.”

Momma stood there for a second, and then reached for her purse and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’m going to have a word with Cam Hamilton,” she said.

“Wait up. I’ll go with you.” I didn’t want my mother rampaging around city hall by herself. She was barely five feet tall and didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, but when she was on fire like this, there was no one in their right mind who wanted to go up against her.

“You don’t have to babysit me, young lady,” she said as I put on my tennis shoes.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I want a ringside seat for the fireworks.”

She didn’t seem to approve of me going with her, but then again, she didn’t actively protest it, so I was tagging along.

As she drove to city hall, I said, “He may not even be there.”

Momma frowned. “If he’s not, I’ll track him down like the mad dog he is.”

“You might not want to open with that,” I said, trying to take a little sting out of her mood.

It clearly didn’t work. “If anything, I can only get angrier from here.”

She pulled up in front of city hall and was halfway up the steps before I caught up with her. I put a hand on her shoulder, and somehow managed to slow her down, at least momentarily. “Take a deep breath and count to ten before you go in there,” I said.

“I am in full control of my faculties,” she said. “There is no need for that childish exercise.”

“Humor me,” I said.

She didn’t want to, but I watched as Momma did as I asked. When she was finished, her breathing had slowed a little, and a touch of the fire had gone out of her eyes. “Satisfied?” she asked me.

“We’re good,” I said, knowing that if I continued getting in her way, the ire she was feeling at the moment would be directed toward me, something I had no interest in witnessing.

We got to the mayor’s office, and Polly North was at her station, a retired librarian who worked the desk these days. Like Momma, she was a woman of small stature, but she, too, wasn’t someone worth crossing.

“Dorothy,” Polly said, not even acknowledging me by name, but offering me a quick glance before focusing on my mother.

“Is he in?” Momma asked.

“Why, I’m fine. And you?”

Momma got it. “Sorry. He’s gone too far this time. I need to see him right now.”

Polly pointed to the office door and nodded, all the while saying, “I’m afraid he can’t be disturbed right now.”

Momma shot her a quick smile. “Got it. I’m barging in uninvited.”

With a returning grin, Polly said in a happy voice, “I really must ask you not to go in there,” all the while nodding her head vigorously for us to go right in.

Cam was behind his desk, his feet propped up, and a soda in one hand. There was a hot dog on his desk, and it wasn’t too tough to see why he’d put on weight since he’d played high school football many years before. Only his hair had stayed the same, carefully styled and sprayed, with nothing out of place. “Ladies,” Cam said as he sat up in his chair. “Polly,” he added, nearly bellowing, “I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

“Don’t blame her,” Momma said. “She tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t allow it. What is this nonsense about you making a bid on a county project?”

Cam dabbed at his lips with a napkin and said, “So, you’ve seen the newspaper.”

“Everyone has. It’s wrong, Cam, and you know it.”

He looked as though that last bite of hot dog hadn’t agreed with him. “If you please, I’m happy to be called Cam on the street, but when I’m at my desk here at city hall, I ask that you respect the office. It’s Mr. Mayor.”

I thought Momma might have a stroke just then, but she took a deep breath, and then said almost cordially, “You like that title, don’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s a perfect description of who I am.”

Momma shook her head. “There, you’re wrong. It’s a job description, not a personal one. Whoever is mayor has that title.”

He looked puzzled by her comment. “What’s your point? I’m the mayor.”

“For now, perhaps.”

That clearly got his attention. “What do you mean by that?”

“This is an election year, or have you forgotten? I know you haven’t bothered putting signs up yet, because you’d like folks to forget, but the filing deadline is tomorrow, and the election in a week.”

“No one’s running against me,” he said.

“Are you dead set on taking this project?” Momma asked.

“It’s a done deal, Dorothy. I don’t know what the fuss is about. I deserve the right to earn a living.”

“I’m not saying you don’t,” Momma said. “But this smells bad to everyone who knows about it.”

The mayor shook his head. “I have to give Blake credit for that. He did come up with a catchy headline.”

“I’m deadly serious, Mr. Mayor,” Momma said, managing to put a great deal of scorn into her words.

“You put her up to this, didn’t you?” Cam asked me, acknowledging me for the first time since I’d walked in.

“I’m just along for the ride,” I said, trying my best to smile brightly.

“I’ll bet,” he said.

“I’m perfectly capable of acting on my own,” Momma said. “I will ask you only once more. Will you walk away from this?”

“No, ma’am, respectfully, I won’t.”

“Then I’m going downstairs and filing my name as a candidate for mayor.”

He didn’t look happy about the news, but something must have suddenly occurred to him. “You can’t.”

“What do you mean, she can’t?” I asked. “Do you think you can stop her?”

“The town charter says she needs a hundred signatures, and I doubt she can get them by tomorrow.”

“I’d be glad to wager that you’re wrong,” my mother said as she pivoted and headed for the door.

“Dorothy, you’re biting off more than you can chew this time,” Cam said, as Momma reached the door.

“Is that a threat, Cam?”

“It’s ‘Mayor,’ remember?”

Momma smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “For now,” she said, and then I followed her out, carefully leaving the door open behind us.

Polly was standing just beside it, and it wouldn’t have surprised me a bit to learn that she’d been eavesdropping on our conversation. She clapped a few times and smiled, but then Cam yelled for her, and she disappeared inside.

“What now?” I asked. “If the donut shop were open, I could get you the signatures you need, but where are you going to find a hundred people? Are we going door to door?”

Momma shook her head. “We won’t have to. We’re going to start at the Boxcar Grille and go from there.”

As soon as we walked in, we told Trish, the owner and one of my best friends, what we were up to. When she heard the news, she clapped and whooped with great joy. “Well, all I can say is that it’s about time.”

“I think so, too,” I said.

Momma asked, “Do you mind helping?”

“Are you kidding? I want to be the first one to sign.”

I looked at Momma and said, “We forgot to make up a sheet. Some campaign chair I turned out to be.”

Trish reached into a drawer behind the register and brought out ten sheets of paper. She stapled them together, and then wrote in big letters on the front page, ‘Petition to Put Dorothy Hart on the Ballot for Mayor of April Springs.’ She showed us and asked, “How’s that?”

“Perfect,” Momma said.

“Good.” Trish signed her name bigger than John Hancock’s, and then announced, “Let’s go, folks. Dorothy Hart for mayor; be one of the lucky ones who gets to sign the petition.”

There was a rush up front, whether for my mother or against Cam Hamilton, but it really didn’t matter why.

As people signed, more came in, and I found Trish working her telephone. When she hung up, I asked, “Where are they all coming from?”

“I dialed the ladies on the Disaster Alert call list, and they’re calling everyone else. We’ll have those signatures before the clerk’s office closes.”