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

  “She says it’s for my own good, but if that’s true, why am I so miserable eating tree bark and rice puffed air?”

  “George, Nan wants you to live a long time, and I have to say, I agree with the sentiment. Are you sure you want a dozen?”

  “I thought you were in the business of selling donuts, woman.”

  “I am, but my friends mean more to me than even Donut Hearts itself.”

  He leaned forward and shushed me. “Don’t let her hear that, or you’ll be in for trouble.”

  I laughed this time. “George, do you really think my donut shop knows what I’m saying?”

  “Don’t tempt fate. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Pretty unusual advice from a former cop,” I said.

  “Some of the most superstitious people I ever knew were cops,” he said.

  Loudly, as though I were appeasing the spirit of my donut shop, I said, “I love Donut Hearts, and I wouldn’t want to ever imagine my life without her.”

  We both stopped and listened, and at that moment, the refrigerator started chuckling softly. It was an old sound I’d gotten used to and most likely had more to do with compressors and seals than pleasure, but George grinned widely when it happened. “Don’t say I didn’t tell you.”

  “So, how many donuts would you really like?”

  “I’d still like a dozen, but I’ll take three. Nobody can fuss at me about that.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Of course we can,” I said as I bagged the donuts for him. Since he was being so good about it, I threw in a few donut holes as well, something I knew that he loved to snack on.

  After I took his money and gave him his change, he lingered at the front for a second. “Suzanne, I spoke with Phil about you digging into the blacksmith’s murder.”

  “Phil?” I asked, surprised by the nickname. The police chief and the mayor hadn’t ever been what you’d call friends to my knowledge, so I had to wonder exactly what had changed.

  “We’re working together quite a bit these days, and I’m getting to like him. When I was on the force, he wasn’t my favorite person in April Springs, but he’s matured over the years.”

  “Could his change of heart be due to the fact that you’re his boss now?”

  George shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Anybody who makes my life easier is okay by me. Anyway, tread lightly there, okay?”

  “George, you’re not taking his side, are you?” I asked. We’d been through too much together in the past, and I hated the thought that I might be losing one of my staunchest allies.

  “Of course not,” he said quickly. “As a matter of fact, I’m most likely the reason he didn’t rush out and arrest you when that journal showed up in his mailbox.”

  “He told you that?”

  “We don’t have any secrets around here,” George said.

  “And here I thought it was because of Momma,” I said.

  “Sure, that’s part of it, but I had a word with him, too. Just don’t make things any tougher on me than they need to be.”

  “You’re not asking me to back off, are you?”

  “Me?” He looked absolutely shocked by the idea. “I’m not crazy, Suzanne. I know you’ve made up your mind to do this, and I can’t say that I blame you. All I’m saying is try not to rub his nose in the fact that you’re snooping around yourself.”

  “That I can promise to try to do.”

  “Then we’re good. Thanks again for the donuts. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he added as he shook the bag in his hand.

  “I may not make any Cherry Bombs,” I said. I had some old favorites that made the list every day, but there was always room for some experiments on my menu.

  “I’ll try to get by with these, then,” he said, and then George was gone. As much as I appreciated the fact that he and Momma were looking out for me, there was a part of me that resented their actions, regardless of how altruistic their motives were. When we’d been married, Max had tried to do the same thing in his own odd way, and I’d grown to resent it from anyone. Still, at least I knew that their hearts were in the right place.

  It wouldn’t pay to go against them if I could help it. After all, who would make the donuts if I were locked up for interfering with a police investigation?

  Phil, indeed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that new development, but I was pretty certain nobody cared what my take on it was.

  A crowd of construction workers came in just then, ending all thoughts of doing anything but serving them and collecting their money before they could leave. It would add nicely to my bottom line, and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about taking some time off later when my book club came by to meet in an hour. I’d thought about postponing it given James’s murder, but we’d had to cancel our last meeting, and I didn’t want them all to drift away from me. It had become a part of my life that I looked forward to, and I would have hated to see it end. Today’s book was called The Killer’s Last Bite, and when the group had first mentioned it, I had thought that it was a new culinary mystery, only to realize later that it was the latest title in a thriller series, The Killer’s Last … So far the author had gone through Kiss, Touch, Whisper, Sound, Sigh, and Gasp, and I had to wonder how many more books he had in him. I had enjoyed this one, and now I couldn’t wait to go back and read the previous books. I loved when that happened; finding a nice inventory of books in a new-to-me series was pure gold.

  Before the book club got to Donut Hearts, a man in a three-piece suit came into the shop. “May I help you?” I asked.

  “I hope so,” he said as he slid a hundred-dollar bill across the counter. “There’s more where that came from if you’re willing to tell me what you know.”

  I didn’t make a move toward the bill. Had he waited until we were empty before approaching me? I had a feeling this man was up to no good. “What did you have in mind? I know quite a bit about a lot of different things, but there’s one thing you should keep in mind; my recipes aren’t for sale, at any price.” That was a bald-faced lie, but I doubted he’d know it. For a hundred bucks, I wasn’t sure what kind of information he was after, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with my magical crullers.

  “This isn’t about your offerings here, as delightful as they must be. It concerns James Settle.”

  I took my index finger, touched it as though it were smeared with mud, and slid the bill back to him. “Sorry, but that’s not for sale, either.”

  He shrugged as he reached into his wallet and pulled out four more hundreds to go with the lone one still on the counter. “I have to warn you that if you’re thinking about gouging me, that’s as high as I’ve been authorized to go, unless you have something to say that is truly interesting to my employer.”

  “I wasn’t dickering with you,” I said. “James was my friend. I’m not about to betray his memory to you for money.”

  “You misunderstand,” he said plaintively. “I’m searching for his killer. If you were indeed friends, you should be happy to help me. Why wouldn’t you? You could profit from it as well as doing me a great service.”

  “Who are you working for?” I asked.

  “Sorry, but I’m not at liberty to disclose that,” he replied stuffily.

  “Let me guess, then. It’s either Anne Pinerush, or her son, Forrest.” He flinched just a touch at Forrest’s name, and I knew I wasn’t going to help him. I could have used the five hundred, but not if it meant helping Forrest.

  “I saw that. So, Forrest it is,” I said.

  “That doesn’t really matter. Everything that I just told you was true.”

  “So you say. Again, thanks, but no thanks.”

  He started to leave until I called out, “Hey, wait a second. Don’t forget to take your money with you.”

  “You honestly aren’t going to help me?” he asked.

  “No, sir, I’m not,” I said with a smile. “If you want a donut I’d be happy to sell you your fill, but I won’t peddle any information a
bout my friend.”

  He appeared to think it over, and then said, “I understand completely. I’ll take a dozen of your finest donuts.” As he said it, he pushed the money forward again. “Consider the balance your tip.”

  I shook my head. “Now you’ve done it.”

  “Done what?”

  “You don’t even get the donuts after that remark. Go on. It’s best if you leave right now.”

  “And suppose I say no?” he asked as he collected the money.

  “Well, there are a dozen men I could call to throw you out, but why should I deprive myself of the pleasure?” I asked with a grin. I reached down to retrieve the baseball bat I kept under the front counter to deter rowdies from acting up, and as I hefted it, I slapped the wood in my open palm.

  “I’m going,” he said, and quickly left.

  I stowed the bat back under the counter as Emma walked out of the kitchen. “What was that all about?”

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Just that you threatened a customer,” she replied with a smile. “If you were going to throw somebody out, why didn’t you call me?”

  “Do you think I would have needed any help?”

  “Forget that, Suzanne. I just wanted to watch. What did he do?”

  “He tried to pay me for information about James.”

  Emma whistled softly. “And you let him leave without even giving him a limp?”

  “The first one’s free,” I said. “After that, I’m not making any promises.”

  “I wonder who sent him.”

  “I’m afraid I know. James’s family is involved in this mess one way or the other. One thing’s certain. I know that he wasn’t here out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “Are you certain he’s involved with James’s family?”

  I decided to bring Emma up to date, despite my worries about her sharing it all with her father. It would make my life much too complicated to keep anything from her. After I told her, I asked, “Why else would he flinch when he heard Forrest’s name?”

  “Maybe he’s had his own problems with the man in the past.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. I knew that what Emma was saying could be right. If that were the case, who was this stranger, then? He’d made it a point not to offer me his card, and I got the impression that if I’d insisted, he would have refused. Could he be the mysterious cousin no one knew about? Somebody needed to look into that man’s story, but I didn’t have the resources to do it properly.

  But I knew someone who did.

  CHAPTER 8

  I was happy when he picked up on the first ring. “Chief, a man in a three-piece suit just left the donut shop. He offered me five hundred dollars to talk about James Settle, but I refused. You might want to see what he’s up to if you get a chance.”

  “Thanks, Suzanne, I’ll get right on it,” he said, and then hung up.

  “Are you crazy?” my assistant asked me.

  “What do you mean, Emma?”

  “You just called our police chief for help. Are you feeling okay, Suzanne?”

  “I’m fine. Think about it. I don’t have the resources to track this man down, and even if I could, I can’t force him to talk to me about what his interest is in James. On the other hand, it’s Chief Martin’s job to serve and protect us, right? I’m not afraid to give credit when it’s due, and he’s the most qualified person to find out what’s going on.”

  “Wow, I need to write that down in my journal so I don’t forget today.”

  I laughed at Emma and swatted at her gently with a towel I kept by the front register. “Don’t you have dishes to do?”

  “Always; it’s a never-ending flow.”

  “Then maybe you should get to them,” I said, smiling.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I was still wondering about what the man’s real motivations had been for asking about James when my book club came into the donut shop.

  “Treats for all the girls are on me,” Jennifer said as she walked in, waving a hundred-dollar bill around the room. She was a redhead, and the leader of our little group.

  “Including me?” Sally Wingate said from the counter. “I haven’t been called a girl in donkey years, but if you’re buying, I’ll take another bear claw.”

  “Why not?” Jennifer said. “We’re celebrating.”

  “How about the guys?” Nick Williams said from one corner.

  I was about to hush him when Jennifer put the bill down on the counter. What was this, my day for hundreds?

  “When this runs out, cut us off,” she said.

  “Why the spurt of generosity?” I asked as I put the bill in the register.

  “I’m a brand-new grandmother,” Jennifer explained happily. “But there’s a catch.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You all have to look at little Erica’s picture and tell me what a beautiful baby my daughter just had.”

  She pulled out the photograph and I saw they’d caught the little angel sleeping. “I’m sure that you won’t have to pay anyone to say it. She’s truly gorgeous,” I said.

  “Then be sure to save a donut or two for you and Emma,” Jennifer said. “Hazel, surely you can break your new diet just this once.”

  Hazel was constantly trying to lose weight, always with very little success. She studied my display cases, and then said, “I’ll have a plain cake donut, please.”

  “Are you sure that you wouldn’t like one with chocolate on it?” I asked. I knew she was counting calories, but I also knew from past experience with her that Hazel loved anything with chocolate on it.

  “Why not?” she asked with a grin. “You twisted my arm.”

  After my three other patrons were served their extra donuts, I saw Nick reaching for his cell phone. “You’d better not be calling your buddies and telling them about the free donuts,” I said with a smile.

  “Would I do that?” he asked, doing his best, and failing, to look innocent.

  “I’m betting the answer to that is yes.” I had visions of being mobbed, and after I rang up the donuts I’d given away, including ones for the other two members of our group—Hazel and Elizabeth—I rang up the total and brought Jennifer her change. “As much as we all appreciate the gesture, I don’t want a mob scene here, at least not if you’re interested in having our book club discussion today. Emma won’t be able to handle the rush by herself.”

  “Would people really rush over here just for a free donut?”

  I turned to Nick. “Do you have an answer to that question?”

  “They would,” he admitted with a smile. “Suzanne was right. I was about to call my buddies, and they would have called theirs, and who knows where it would have ended.” He turned back to me and said, “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I smiled at him and got him another lemon-filled donut, his favorite, out of the case. “That one’s on me.”

  “I won’t say no,” he said, laughing, and took the offering. “I’d better get out of here. I’m late for the gym as it is.”

  “You’ll have to work out a lot harder today on our account.”

  “Happy to do it,” he said.

  I got Emma from the back, explained to her that the free donut run was over, and turned the front over to her. “Free donuts?” she asked.

  “Jennifer was feeling generous, but we decided to limit the damage to her hundred dollars. She’s got a new granddaughter.”

  Jennifer held the photo forward, and Emma said, “How sweet.”

  After we settled in on the best couch and chairs, Jennifer started off the discussion by saying, “The Killer’s Last Bite is our book for today. I’ll lead off by saying this entry was a little less spectacular than Gasp in my opinion, but still quite a bit better than Sigh.”

  “I’ll be honest with you,” I admitted. “I didn’t know this was a series when I started reading the book. I really enjoyed Bite, though. How does he keep writing about the same characters over and over again without
getting stale?”

  “I asked him that very same question last week,” Elizabeth said. She loved e-mailing authors, and we were all surprised by how many actually responded. I was always interested in the stories she told of their replies, but personally, I thought the writers were crazy to answer her.

  “What did he say?” I couldn’t imagine what kind of mail they got, and I’d be afraid to open my in-box if I was one of them. I completely understood the ones who were recluses, free to write their stories without the prying eyes and probing questions of adoring readers. I was sure they appreciated each and every one of their fans, but how did they ever find time to write if they spent so much time answering all of their mail?

  “He told me that the deeper he got into the series, the more aspects of his characters’ personalities he could explore. He also said that bringing in new characters occasionally, even if it was just to kill them off a few books later, was a way to keep the writing fresh for him.”

  “That’s fascinating,” Hazel said as she took another small chipmunk bite of her donut.

  “It is. But we were talking about Bite. Did anyone else find the culinary tie-in with this mystery a little distracting? I swear, there were more recipes than chapters in this book.”

  “I thought they were delightful,” Elizabeth said. Whenever anyone said anything even remotely disparaging about one of our authors, she never failed to leap to defend them, as though they were all deep personal friends instead of the infrequent pen pals that they really were.

  “What did you think about them, Suzanne?” Jennifer asked me. “You’re our resident food expert, and I’d love to get your take on it.”

  “Hey, I’m a donutmaker, plain and simple.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Hazel said with a smile. She delighted in zinging us occasionally, and I hadn’t felt like one of the crowd until she took a gentle shot at me one day.

  “You’re right, it’s not,” I said with a grin. “I liked them, but then again, I waited until I finished the book before I read them all. They might have distracted me otherwise, but as it was, going over them after I read the book itself was like finding that last cupcake in the back of the fridge that you forgot all about until you stumble over it at midnight looking for a snack.”