Floured Felonies (The Donut Mysteries Book 27) Page 4

“It was Greg Whitmore,” the mayor said sadly.

  “Greg wasn’t homeless,” I said, remembering what the tree man had said earlier.

  George looked startled by my statement. “I never said that he was.”

  “My point is, why was he out in the freezing rain when he had a nice safe home to go to?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later. In the meantime, there’s a town to put back together now that we’re finished here.”

  “How bad was the storm in general?” I asked him.

  “Not too awful. We’re going to replace a few more windows with Plexiglas, patch a few more roofs, and then we’ll be ready to start cutting up downed trees. The power is mostly restored here in town, and crews are working on the town’s outer limits even as we speak. All in all, it could have been a great deal worse than it was.”

  “If you weren’t Greg Whitmore,” I added.

  “Yes, indeed,” the mayor said somberly, and then he dismissed the sadness as he brushed a few crumbs off his face. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to get cracking.”

  “Send anyone you find who’s hungry our way, and we’ll feed them,” I said. “We’ll have donuts and coffee to last at least until one.”

  “You’re my kind of people, Suzanne.”

  “That’s good, because I’m kind of fond of you myself.” A little louder, I said, “Thank you, everyone. Your hard work and your willingness to help me won’t be forgotten.”

  Carl Hancock looked at me and grinned. “Enough to get us free coffee and donuts for life?”

  Everyone laughed, and when it died down, I said, “No, I could never afford to feed you that much,” I said as I patted his portly belly.

  He blushed a little, so I walked over and picked up a Kool-Aid donut and handed it to him. “But for today, it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

  “I’ll take whatever I can get,” he said with a smile before he took a big bite of the donut.

  Ten minutes later, the floor was swept, the leftover pieces of wood had all been removed, and someone had brought a dozen folding chairs to the shop on loan from the fire department. That was just one of the reasons I knew I would never leave April Springs. It was too much like one big family.

  I knew the glow I was feeling at the moment wouldn’t last forever, but I expected it to linger longer than it did. Ten minutes after the construction and cleaning crew left Donut Hearts for other parts of town, the chief of police walked into the shop, and from the dour look on his face, it was immediately obvious that he wasn’t there for the free donuts.

  Chapter 6

  “I’ve got an ID on the body you found,” he told me.

  “It was Greg Whitmore,” I said.

  “Who told you that, Suzanne?” the police chief asked, looking slightly vexed that I’d gotten the news somewhere else first.

  “George Morris just left,” I said. “Did Greg die from exposure?”

  “No,” the chief said.

  That was news to me. “Was it a heart attack? I saw his face, Chief. It was covered in ice. How did he not die from the elements?”

  “The truth of the matter was that he was dead before the cold could get him,” Chief Grant said, lowering his voice. “I don’t want the word to get out yet, but when I told Grace a few minutes ago, she insisted that I clue you in as well.”

  “If it wasn’t the ice storm, then what was it?”

  “A small-caliber bullet to the back of the head,” the chief said as he shook his head in disgust.

  “What?” I asked, much louder than I needed to. “I didn’t see a bullet wound.”

  “Suzanne, could you keep your voice down? I don’t want anyone in the kitchen to hear this.”

  “Sorry,” I said, modulating my tone to a softer level. “Are you sure?”

  “The coroner’s pretty certain, what with the entry wound coupled with the bullet he pulled out of Greg’s head,” the chief said. “Don’t blame yourself for not spotting it. The EMTs missed it, too, and they were a lot closer to him than you were.”

  “So, somebody waited until he was sitting alone on a park bench, and they decided to shoot him in the middle of an ice storm?”

  “Think about it. There were a lot of branches snapping off last night in the storm,” the police chief said with a shrug. “How easy would it have been to mistake a gunshot for a branch breaking?”

  “Pretty easy,” I said, remembering how the sound had reminded me of gunfire the night before.

  “That’s what I think,” the chief said. “Whoever did it had to have gotten pretty close to him. There were powder burns on his neck, but after he was dead, someone pulled the hat down so you couldn’t see it.”

  “Who would want to kill Greg Whitmore?” I asked Chief Grant. Greg was a customer of mine at the donut shop, and I knew that he’d had more than his fair share of hard times, but to be murdered like that? I couldn’t fathom it.

  “That’s what I’m aiming to find out,” the police chief said. “I don’t suppose there’s any use telling you not to look into this yourself, is there?”

  “That depends. What did Grace say when you asked her that question?”

  He shook his head and grinned despite the way he must have felt. “What do you think she said? Just try to stay out of my way, Suzanne. I’m having a hard enough time as it is explaining to some folks around town why you keep getting mixed up in murder.”

  “Chief, to be fair, I usually don’t go looking for it, but come on. Grace and I found the body, and I’ve known Greg for a long time. Did you really think I’d back off?”

  “No, but I can always hope, can’t I?” he asked. “Anyway, I thought you should know.”

  “Have you spoken to Lori?”

  “His wife? Yeah, we’ve chatted a bit, but I’m nowhere near finished with her. It turns out that she was his soon-to-be ex-wife, did you know that? Turns out they were splitting up.”

  I remembered the time Lori had come by the donut shop when Greg had been released from the hospital, and she’d bought out my remaining inventory, since her husband had been craving my treats while he’d been in. She’d seemed so much in love with the man then. I wondered what had happened to them. I knew it happened that way sometimes, one person in a marriage no longer wanted to try, seemingly out of the blue, but it was never easy for the jilted spouse to come to terms with it. “I had no idea. Was anyone else involved?”

  “Are you asking me if Greg was seeing another woman?”

  “Or Lori might have been with another man,” I clarified.

  “I don’t know yet, but I will. Listen, I don’t mind you digging into Greg’s life as long as you stay away from my official police investigation, but if you find anything out, and I mean anything, you come to me. Is that understood?”

  “Loud and clear,” I said. “Thanks for letting us do this.”

  The police chief grinned for a moment, and I saw the young man and not the policeman. “Did I really have any choice?”

  “If it helps you sleep at night believing it, then why not?”

  “Anyway, Grace thought you should know.” He spotted the basket of donuts on the counter and the urn of coffee beside it. “Are those for anybody?”

  “You more than most,” I said with a grin. “Help yourself. Today it’s all on the house. I even got the mayor to take a free donut and cup of coffee.”

  “That’s just about too hard to believe,” Stephen Grant said as he helped himself. “At least let me leave you a tip.”

  “That’s your call entirely, but it’s not expected, at least not today.”

  He slid a buck into the jar, and I realized that I should probably empty it, as it was nearly overflowing from the generosity of my fellow townsfolk. They’d come out in force, showing me
with their labor as well as their wallets how much they cared for me. It was enough to make me cry again, but I’d vowed that I’d shed enough tears to last me the rest of the year, and some of the next one as well.

  The moment Chief Grant was gone, I pulled out my cell phone and called Grace. “Hey, I just heard the news.”

  “About Greg? It’s terrible, isn’t it? I didn’t recognize him, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t have a clue. Chief Grant just came by to tell me, so thanks for that. Apparently we have his provisional approval to dig into Greg Whitmore’s murder.”

  “I’m the one who twisted his arm, remember?” Grace asked. “I thought I’d come by and we could get started. What do you think?”

  I looked at the donuts we had left and did a quick calculation in my mind. “Give me an hour, and I’ll be free and clear here,” I said. “Now that I can lock the place up, I’ll be able to leave it with a clear conscience.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I had a clear conscience about anything,” Grace said with a giggle, and then she hung up.

  There was a part of me that wished we could get started right away, but I wasn’t going anywhere until the last donut was handed out and the last drop of coffee was drained. The folks of April Springs had come out to help me, and I was going to make sure that I gave them everything I had back in return.

  That reminded me. I had something I had to take care of immediately. I called Melissa Henderson, my flour supplier, and got her voicemail. “Hey, Melissa, it’s Suzanne in April Springs. Call me when you get this.”

  I’d no sooner ended the call and put my cell phone away than it started ringing. It was Melissa, and she sounded as though she were out of breath. “Sorry about that,” she said, panting a little. “My best friend lost her power, so we’re having a big cookout. We’re grilling steaks, chicken, and hamburgers, so if you’re hungry and you can get to Maple Hollow, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

  “You know, you could just put everything outside in the cold,” I suggested. “You don’t need electricity to keep things chilled in an ice storm. They’ll probably save just fine being stored outside until the power gets turned back on.”

  “Now why on earth would we want to do that? We’re making it a block party, Suzanne. It’s as good an excuse as any to get together. You said on the phone that you needed flour?”

  “I’m completely out,” I said. “Baking powder, baking soda, yeast, too; all of it. How soon can you get me new supplies?”

  “The roads should be clear by now. Will someone be around?”

  “I’m not sure. Tell your driver I’ll leave the front door unlocked in case no one is here.”

  “Is that wise?” she asked me.

  “Honestly, there’s not much left worth stealing, so I feel pretty good about taking my chances. They can lock up when they leave.”

  “Can do,” she said. “Don’t forget, it’s an open invitation. Bring Jake, if you’d like.”

  “I’m tempted, but he’s in the mountains north of Boone,” I said.

  “Then he got hit with snow. It’s better than ice though, isn’t it?”

  “In more ways than I can imagine,” I told her.

  “Melissa, let’s go. Everybody’s getting hungry,” I heard someone tell her on the other end of the line.

  “I’m coming, Sandy,” she said. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Don’t worry about your order. You’ll be all set in no time.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “Have a good party.”

  “You know it,” Melissa said, and then we ended the call. She wasn’t just my supplier; she’d become my dear friend over the years. Honestly, if I hadn’t had Greg’s murder to investigate, I would have been tempted to close the donut shop then and there and drive straight to Maple Hollow. After all, it really did sound like a fun party. I decided to call two other suppliers so I’d be set on coffee and the other necessities I had in my world, and fortunately, they were all able to deliver sooner than Melissa’s operator could.

  It turned out that I ended up being glad that I’d stuck around though, when a stranger walked through the front door of the donut shop twenty minutes before I had planned on closing, and by the look on his face, he had something he really needed to say.

  Chapter 7

  “Are you Suzanne Hart?” an older man with a trim frame and wire-rim glasses perched on his nose asked me.

  Rarely was that ever good news for me, at least in my experience. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” I said with a shrug.

  He grinned at me. “Relax, I’m not a process server. I’ve got a message for you from Jake.”

  “I’m Suzanne, then,” I said hurriedly. “Have you heard from him? Why is he calling you and not me? Is he hurt? Did something happen to him?”

  The words spilled out of me as I worried that something might have happened to my husband. A thousand nightmare scenarios played out in my mind in the instant it took him to answer. “He’s fine,” the man assured me. “My name’s Kelly Bridges, ma’am. I’m a ham radio operator, and somebody got in touch with me from the lodge where he’s staying. He sends his love and said for you to keep warm.” The man frowned for a moment before he added, “Oh, there’s one more thing. I hope this makes more sense to you than it did to me. He said to tell you that it turns out he’s not going to need the bail money after all, whatever that means.”

  “It means, my good man, that you get a donut and a cup of coffee on the house for delivering his message,” I said. “Shoot, I’m feeling especially generous today. Why don’t you have two.”

  He patted his trim belly and grinned. “I don’t mind if I do. Ma’am, I hate to be nosy, but is your husband in trouble?”

  “What, are you asking me about the bail? No, it’s just a joke we have between us.”

  The man held up his free hand and grinned. “No need to explain, then. The missus and I have a thousand little inside jokes between us, too. It drives our daughter absolutely crazy, which is part of the fun of it. From what I gathered, he’ll be there for a few days before they can dig their way out, but I’m guessing that they aren’t trying all that hard. They said they had plenty of food, lots of firewood, and enough liquor to last them until Valentine’s Day.”

  “I appreciate you coming by, but you could have just called me,” I told him.

  “The truth of the matter is that I’ve always wanted to come by here, and this gave me the perfect excuse.”

  “You know what? Have three donuts,” I said, laughing in relief that my husband was riding out the storm in good condition with old friends. It was more than I could have asked for.

  “Thanks, but my limit’s two,” Kelly said with a grin. After he finished the second donut and refilled his coffee cup, he actually tipped an imaginary hat to me. “Now that I’ve been here, I’ll be back.”

  “That’s great, but next time, you should know that you’ll probably have to pay,” I said with a smile.

  “Isn’t that always the way?” he asked me with a grin. “They get you hooked, and then you’re a goner. It’s fine with me. These are worth every penny I’ll be paying for them in the future. You have yourself a nice day, ma’am.”

  “You too, Kelly.”

  We finally ran out of donuts, and there were not enough supplies on hand to make any more. Besides, most of the town had power again, and the cleanup crews had done a marvelous job. We’d lost some trees, but besides Greg Whitmore, there hadn’t been any ice-storm fatalities, and I didn’t think it was fair to blame the weather for what had happened to the victim. My suppliers had all been champions, and Melissa’s delivery woman was due at any moment. I sent everyone home, with my extreme thanks, and sat out front on one of the folding chairs waiting for the supplies to show up. The donut shop was looking a little down in the dumps after the frontal a
ssault from the tree, but I promised myself that I’d make it better than it had been before. I tried playing with ideas for the remodeling, since I was going to have to do it anyway, but my flair was more about pastry treats than it was about what color went with what. I knew that Grace would be able to help me, and so would Momma, so I didn’t worry about what would come later. The temporary fixes would hold me for a while, but I knew that I’d want permanent solutions soon.

  I was still pondering things I might do when there was a tap at the door. My flour, along with other essential supplies, had arrived! After everything was put away, I buttoned the shop up and headed home to take a quick shower. It had been a long, hard morning, and I needed to clean up even more than I needed a nap. As I walked through the park, I couldn’t help but glance over at the bench where Grace and I had found Greg. Had it honestly just happened that morning? The temperature had warmed up enough so that chunks of ice had dropped off the trees in the sunlight, and there was no record in the grass that it had ever been coated with ice.

  That turned out not to be entirely true, though.

  A burst of sunlight peeking out from the clouds seemed to illuminate two lines in the grass that led straight to Greg’s bench. What was that about? Could it have been my imagination? I stopped where I’d first seen it and walked back to the bench. Sure enough, if I held my head just right, I could make out two tracks spaced eighteen inches apart leading directly to Greg’s bench. There was still ice in each narrow path, though it had melted everywhere else the sunshine had hit. I took out my phone, more as a matter of habit than anything else, and snapped a few pictures. The only problem was that I couldn’t get the lines to show up in the shots. I finally took an extreme close-up that showed a small section of one line, and I managed to capture the image. Taking out a dollar bill, I placed it between the tracks and took a few more photos, hoping to show the spacing correctly.