Evil Éclairs Read online

  Emma noticed the small batch. “Another experiment?”

  “You know me. I’m not satisfied unless it’s the best.” As I put them on the rack to cool, Emma started icing them, as well.

  “Just do three,” I said. “Leave the other three.”

  “You’re the boss.” She took a deep breath. “Should we split one?”

  “I haven’t made the grape jelly glaze yet,” I said.

  Emma crinkled her nose at that. “Why ruin them? Why don’t we offer them like this and see what happens?”

  I grabbed one of the glazed donuts, broke a piece off it, and tasted it.

  She was right. It didn’t need jelly at all.

  It wouldn’t be the PB&J I’d planned to offer, but it was certainly a different flavor from the peanut-crusted donuts I’d been selling. I just hoped none of my customers had peanut allergies.

  I decided to put one aside for George Morris, my friend and a good customer who had retired from the police force several years ago. A balding man in his sixties, George had been invaluable during some of my amateur investigations in the past. “Go ahead and glaze the rest of them, but hold one plain donut back for George.”

  “Just one?”

  “He’s been complaining about his waistline, so I’m trying not to tempt him too much with free samples.”

  “I think he looks fine,” Emma said.

  “Tell him that when he comes in. I’m sure he’d love to hear it. If he comes in, that is.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Emma asked as she pulled that last rack of cake donuts off the icing station.

  “After Lester Moorefield’s rant last night, I’ll be surprised if anyone comes through our front door today.”

  Emma looked confused. “What happened? What did Lester say?”

  I brought her up to speed, including my confrontation with him in the radio station parking lot. After I finished, Emma reached for the radio we kept in back.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I want to see if they might be rebroadcasting it.”

  I glanced at the clock, but didn’t try to stop her. WAPS was still off the air, and would be until six A.M., when Lester started his broadcast day.

  “Nothing but static,” Emma said.

  “Trust me, you aren’t missing much. I just hope his boycott doesn’t work.”

  She patted my arm. “Don’t give it a second thought, Suzanne. Our customers love us too much to turn their backs on us, especially on Lester Moorefield’s say-so.”

  “I hope you’re right.” His attack had shaken me more than I cared to admit, and self-doubt had begun to creep in. We didn’t make a fortune at Donut Hearts on our best days, and there was a fine line between paying our bills plus a little extra and coming under what we needed to meet our daily operating expenses. I’d played with several ideas about how I might increase our income, but nothing had appealed to me. One of my friends and fellow donut makers in Hickory had added a bistro to serve lunch and dinner when the shop wasn’t busy making donuts, but he was a trained chef, while I was just a humble donut maker. If I was going to generate any extra income, it would have to be within the confines of the donut world.

  * * *

  At five-thirty, the donuts were ready, displayed proudly in their cases, and we had two different brews of coffee going, along with a carafe of hot cocoa made from my special recipe.

  Now all we needed was a customer or two.

  As I unlocked the front door, I was surprised to see a police cruiser drive up to the shop. Our chief of police didn’t like being seen at my donut shop because of the old jokes about cops and donuts, but some of his officers liked to come by occasionally. One in particular, Stephen Grant, was even becoming a friend, though it was clear Chief Martin wasn’t all that thrilled about one of his officers getting chummy with me.

  I was in luck, it was my friend; but as Officer Grant got out of his squad car, I knew he wasn’t there for an early-morning donut.

  There was trouble, and from the expression on his face I had a feeling that, once again, I was right in the middle of it.

  PEANUT BUTTER DROP DONUTS

  As I was writing this book, I suddenly realized that I’d never made a peanut-based dough of my own. What better time to explore how, along with Suzanne, to make these. It took a little trial and error, but I’ve found a recipe that I believe even Suzanne would be proud to serve at Donut Hearts!

  INGREDIENTS

  • 1 egg, beaten

  • ½ cup sugar (white)

  • ¼ cup brown sugar

  • 1 cup buttermilk (2% or whole milk will also do)

  • 2 tablespoons canola oil

  • ½ teaspoon vanilla

  • 1 cup all purpose flour

  • 1 tablespoon baking powder

  • ¼ teaspoon salt

  • ½ cup peanut butter (I like chunky, but smooth works fine, too)

  DIRECTIONS

  Heat canola oil to 360 degrees while you mix the batter. Add the sugar slowly to the beaten egg, incorporating it along the way. Then add the milk, oil, and vanilla, stirring well. Sift the dry ingredients and fold it into the batter. Add the peanut butter last, and you’re ready.

  Take a teaspoon of batter and rake it into the fryer with another spoon. If the dough doesn’t rise soon, gently nudge it with a chopstick, being careful not to splatter oil. After two minutes, check, and then flip, frying for another minute on the other side. These times may vary given too many factors to count, so keep a close eye.

  Makes around eighteen small donuts

  CHAPTER 2

  “What’s wrong?” I asked when Officer Grant walked in the door, his frown deepening as he approached me. A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Nothing’s happened to Jake, has it?” My boyfriend was in New Bern at the moment, helping the FBI with a sting on some real, honest-to-goodness bad guys. If anything happened to him, I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to deal with it. We hadn’t been a solid couple all that long, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

  “Jake’s fine, as far as I know,” Officer Grant said, his frown becoming a look of surprise. “Why do you ask?”

  “You don’t look all that pleased to be here,” I said as the relief washed over me. “If it’s not Jake, then what’s going on? Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”

  “Suzanne, do you mind coming with me?”

  I looked at him for a second. “It’s not really a good time. We’re just opening the shop, and I can’t leave.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand. That wasn’t a request. The chief needs to see you, and that means right now.” He looked around the empty donut shop. “I think Emma can handle things here for a while, don’t you?”

  I wasn’t about to let myself be summoned by Chief Martin without at least asking for the reason. “I’m not going anywhere until I find out what’s going on.”

  Officer Grant nodded. “The chief figured you wouldn’t come without a fight. He authorized me to tell you that it involves you directly, but that’s all I’m allowed to say right now.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Trust me; I wouldn’t try to strong-arm you if it wasn’t important. You know that, right?”

  I nodded. “I just don’t like being ordered around.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I grabbed my jacket, and then said, “Let me tell Emma before we go.” She was still in back doing a round of dishes, and if I knew her, her iPod was on and going full blast.

  After I got her attention, she pulled one earbud out and looked at me.

  “I’ve got to step out for a while.”

  She laughed without looking at me. “Where are you going, out dancing?”

  “Emma, this is serious. The chief has requested my presence somewhere, and it doesn’t look like I can refuse. Watch the front, would you?”

  She pulled her hands out of the soapy water. “Should I call my mother to come help out until you get back?”

  Emma’s mo
ther had stepped in to lend a hand at times when we’d needed her in the past, but I didn’t think I’d be gone long enough to make it worth her while to come in. “No, it shouldn’t be that bad.”

  “I hope not, but if you’re gone more than thirty minutes, I’m calling her.”

  “That sounds fine. I’m hoping I won’t have any trouble meeting that deadline.”

  Emma rinsed her hands, and we walked out to the dining area together.

  “I just need you, Suzanne,” Officer Grant said.

  “Trust me; I’ve got no desire to go wherever you two are going. I’m going to have my hands full running the front,” Emma said.

  “See you soon,” I said as we left. I’d considered grabbing a donut for Officer Grant on the way out, but quickly decided against it. After all, I didn’t want to be accused of currying favor with local law enforcement.

  I was glad I’d grabbed my jacket. It was still chilly out, and I figured that it wouldn’t begin to really warm up until the sun came out.

  As we drove away from the shop, I asked, “Where exactly are we going?”

  Officer Grant appeared to think about it, and then said, “I don’t suppose it could hurt anything to tell you now. We’re going to WAPS.”

  I couldn’t believe the nerve of Lester Moorefield. Why had he brought the police into our argument? “I never touched him! Did he say that I did? He’s lying. Ask Cara. She saw the entire argument!”

  “He didn’t say a word.”

  “Then why are we going to see him?”

  Officer Grant let out a deep breath, and then said, “Somebody killed him late last night, Suzanne, and it looks like they might have used one of your pastries to do it.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was like the return of a nightmare I’d lived through once before. “Was it poisoned?”

  “No, as far as we know, there wasn’t anything wrong with it.”

  “Then how did it kill him?”

  “Suzanne, it looks like he might have choked on it. There was half a box of pastries in the break room.”

  I paused a moment to take that in. “Then why does the chief need to see me? I can’t help it if someone took too big a bite of one of my treats. I can’t be held responsible for everything that happens once something leaves my shop.”

  Officer Grant frowned, and then said, “If you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it. At first glance, it looked like an éclair was jammed down his throat. It cut off his airway and he couldn’t breathe. I don’t know what they’ve found out since. The second the chief saw that pastry, he sent me to get you.”

  What a terrible way to die. Suffocation couldn’t be an easy way to go, and the idea that one of my pastries had been used in a homicide made me feel sick. Something must have showed on my face.

  Officer Grant asked, “Are you all right? Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to you about it until we got there.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Do you mind if I crack the window? I could use a little cool air on my face.”

  “That’s fine.”

  I opened the window, and let the breeze in. After a minute, I was feeling more like my old self again. It was just in time. I rolled the window back up as we pulled into the parking lot of the radio station where I’d been the night before. Dawn was still an hour away, but heavy-duty lights lined the perimeter, making it as bright as noon. I saw the car Lester had leaned against the night before. Since the entire parking lot was fenced in, there was no need for crime-scene tape anywhere. One of the officers was taking photographs of tire tracks from a drying mud puddle, and I had to wonder if they’d match my Jeep.

  At least the body had been removed. I’d looked for it the second we’d pulled up, hoping not to see Lester with my pastry nearby.

  I got that wish, but I wasn’t off the hook completely.

  Chief Martin met me at the car door. Though he’d gained some weight in the past, it was clear that he was working hard at losing it now. I knew he wasn’t eating donuts anymore, though he’d never been that big a customer of mine. I wondered if it had something to do with the trouble he was having finalizing his divorce. Word around town was that he and his wife had been living separately for some time, though nothing official had been announced. That’s the way it was with small-town living. The grapevine was usually more accurate than the newspaper, and gave up information quicker, too. Sometimes I wondered why Emma’s father even bothered running the April Springs Sentinel.

  Before I could take more than a step away from the cruiser, the chief held an evidence bag in front of my face.

  “Is this yours?”

  It was clear he wasn’t in the mood for small talk. I looked at the remnants of an éclair, studied the custard in the middle, and the shiny chocolate glaze on it. “If I had to guess, I’d say yes, but I could be wrong.”

  “Who else could have made it?” He was normally gruff with me, but there wasn’t even the pretension of civility.

  “Chief, someone could have made it in their own kitchen. It’s not exactly rocket science. Did you call me for my expert opinion, or did you hear about the argument I had with Lester last night? You don’t honestly think I could have done this, do you?”

  “I’m not in the opinion business, Suzanne. I’m just interested in facts.”

  “There’s a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one. Maybe I need to call Jake.”

  Chief Martin and my boyfriend had a fairly good professional relationship, except when it came to me. They shared a camaraderie, but his association with me put a strain on it at times. “I thought he was tied up somewhere else.”

  For one second, I’d forgotten all about his trip to New Bern. “Should I call an attorney, then?”

  “Do what you please, but I’m not going to arrest you, at least not at the moment.” He waved Officer Grant away, and then lowered his voice. “Trust me, I know better than anyone how much Lester loved poking at folks around town with his show. Do you think you’re the first person in April Springs he ever went after with that radio program of his?”

  “No, but I’ve got a suspicion that I’m the last.”

  He nodded. “You’ve got a point there, and I can’t stop people in town from talking, but I’m not about to let it interfere with my investigation.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Was the chief of police actually acting like a human being for a change?

  “That being said, do you have an alibi for last night between ten and two?”

  That was more like the chief of police I expected. “I got home about nine-thirty after my argument with Lester, spent half an hour talking about it with my mom, and then I grabbed four hours of sleep before I came into the shop a little after two A.M.”

  He nodded, and then asked, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you usually go to work a little earlier than that?”

  “I slept in a little,” I admitted. “As it is, I’m going to need a nap later.” A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Have you been checking up on me?”

  He didn’t even look chastened as he replied. “I’ve got officers doing night patrols downtown, and one of my men mentioned that your lights were dark at two, when usually they’re blazing back in the kitchen by then.”

  “And he just happened to bring that up this morning, of all days?”

  “No, I asked him, Suzanne. I’m investigating a homicide. It’s what I do. I keep asking questions until I get answers. And don’t knock our patrols. That’s how we found Lester.”

  I frowned at his response. His reply was reasonable, but I still didn’t like the idea of anyone checking up on me. “How are you so sure he didn’t just choke on a big bite of pastry without help from anyone else?”

  “Grant’s been talking too much,” Chief Martin said as he looked at his subordinate. “I never told you why I was asking about that éclair.”

  “Don’t blame him. You know how relentless I can be.”

  “I can testify to that. Anyway, we’ve
ruled out choking, either by accident or on purpose. The éclair wasn’t what killed him.”

  Was it wrong that I felt a sense of relief from the news? “What exactly happened, then?”

  “The pastry was just the icing on the cake, Suzanne. Lester was strangled from behind, and the éclair was added after the fact.”

  * * *

  The weariness I’d been keeping at bay suddenly overwhelmed me. I hadn’t been a fan of Lester Moorefield, but that didn’t mean I was happy that he was dead. The presence of one of my pastries at the crime scene just added to the exhaustion I felt. “Are you finished with me yet?”

  “For now. Hang around a little, I’ll have someone drive you back to your shop.”

  I couldn’t bear the thought of lingering at the crime scene for another second if I didn’t have to.

  “That’s okay. I’ll call someone,” I said.

  He seemed to stop caring about me altogether at that point and headed back inside the radio station.

  Who could I call? Jake wouldn’t be back for a few days, and I knew from experience that he turned his telephone off when he was dealing with something complicated like coordinating a bust with the feds. I thought briefly about phoning Grace, but it was barely past six, and I doubted she’d be up for at least another hour.

  I could have called Max, but I’d have to be a lot more desperate than I was right now to telephone my ex-husband.

  That left Momma.

  I knew she’d be awake, probably sitting at the kitchen table sipping her coffee and reading the scant pages of the Sentinel.

  I wasn’t in the mood for her questions, though.

  Maybe I’d just walk.

  If I’d gotten an hour more sleep than I had managed, I would have done just that, but I really didn’t have any choice, since we’d lost our one taxi service a long time ago.

  As I’d expected, she was awake, and answered on the first ring.