Fatally Frosted Read online

  “I feel better now,” Emma said. “Thanks for calling me.”

  “Sure thing. And don’t stress out about today. Nothing that happened is your fault, all right?”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll be back at the shop as soon as they finish searching it.”

  I just couldn’t do that to her after what she’d been through. “You know what? Why don’t you take the rest of the day off. I’m at the Boxcar, so as soon as they leave, I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said.

  “I know I don’t, but to be honest with you, I want to. It will give me something to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “If you’re sure,” she said.

  “Trust me. Take me up on my offer before I change my mind.”

  “Thanks,” she said, just before she hung up.

  Trish waited until I put my phone back into my purse before she said, “That was sweet of you.”

  “You weren’t listening to my private telephone conversation, were you?” I asked her with a smile.

  “Hey, if you want privacy, don’t call anybody while you’re in a train boxcar. There’s not exactly a lot of room in here. Besides, I have to do something for entertainment. You wouldn’t deprive me of my eavesdropping, would you?”

  I laughed. “No, when you put it that way, I’m fine with it.”

  She slid a cup of coffee in front of me. “Can I get you something to eat? It’s a little early for lunch, but I’ll get Hilda to make you a burger, if you’d like one.”

  I was tempted, but I honestly didn’t have much of an appetite. Just thinking about food made me visualize Peg sprawled out in the garden with one of my donuts clutched in her dead hand. Would I ever be able to look at another donut again without seeing that scene? I sincerely hoped so, or my business was in serious trouble.

  I took a sip of the coffee, then said, “No, thanks. I’m good for now.”

  My gaze was on the donut shop the entire time we spoke, where two police cruisers were still parked. I half-expected them to drape the front of the converted train depot with yellow warning tape, but at least they’d spared me that indignity.

  The train car’s door opened, and I saw the good looking stranger come in. Instead of taking one of the booths in back, he surprised me by sliding onto a stool two spaces away from me.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  “Go right ahead.”

  Trish came out, and the second she saw him, one hand went to her forehead to make sure her bangs were in place. I was surprised she didn’t take her ponytail down and brush her hair.

  “Coffee?” she asked as she slid a cup and saucer in front of him.

  “That would be nice,” he said, not paying much attention to her.

  She made a show of placing a menu in front of him, though there was one wedged between the napkin dispenser and the pepper shaker.

  He pushed it back. “Thanks, but the coffee’s all I need,” he said.

  Trish collected the menu, then moved back a few steps where she could still see him.

  The man turned to me and said, “What I really wanted this morning was one of your donuts. I couldn’t get inside, though.”

  “Join the club,” I replied. “That’s why I’m here, too.”

  “What happened?” He looked honestly interested.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” I said.

  He nodded. “Got you. Health code violation?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, not realizing just how harsh it would sound until I said it. In a calmer tone of voice, I said, “There was an accident somewhere else, and the police are making sure I wasn’t involved.”

  “So they’re searching your shop? What happened, did someone eat a bad donut?”

  It was clear that he’d been joking, but that was a lot closer to the truth than I was willing to deal with.

  Suddenly, I had to get out of there before anyone could see me break down. I pushed my coffee away and slid a dollar under the saucer. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere else I need to be.”

  He said, “Hang on a second. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke.”

  “I know,” I said as I paused at the door. “It’s just not all that funny right now.”

  I was outside walking with vigorous steps to my shop when I heard someone running in the gravel behind me.

  I turned and saw it was the stranger, but I made no move to slow my pace.

  He caught up quickly enough, then as he matched my stride, he said, “Hang on a second. I’d like to talk to you.”

  “It’s fine, really it is,” I said, hoping he’d get the hint and leave me alone.

  He didn’t. He walked with me toward the donut shop, matching my steps. When we got to the parking lot, I looked in through one of the windows, but it didn’t appear the police were in any hurry to wrap up their search and leave.

  “Now what?” he asked with a grin. “There’s nowhere else you can run.”

  “I wasn’t running,” I said simply.

  He frowned at that, then said, “We got off on the wrong foot today, didn’t we? Is there any chance we could just start over? I’m really sorry about the donut crack. That was uncalled for.” He offered a hand, then said, “My name’s David Shelby.”

  I hesitated, then took it briefly. “You already know I’m Suzanne Hart.”

  “Donut Hearts is the perfect name for your place.”

  “I really like it.”

  He looked at the building, studying the muted mustard brick veneer, the cedar red trim, and the expanses of glass. “It’s a fine old structure, isn’t it?”

  “You’re not one of those purists who believe that every old, abandoned train depot should be restored to all of its earlier glory, are you?” I’d had such people come into my shop before, complaining about the lost history I’d destroyed, and I’d grown tired of defending my choice of locations for my shop.

  “No, I’m just happy nobody tore it down altogether. If people can start over, why shouldn’t a building get a second chance at life?” Then he did the most remarkable thing. He reached out and stroked a few bricks, as if he were petting a dog. There was obvious affection in his touch, and I felt my heart softening toward him. I wouldn’t admit to most folks in April Springs, but I too had a love for the old building, and all of the stories it could tell, if only it could talk.

  “That’s what I think, too. So, tell me, David, is that why you’re in April Springs? Are you looking for a second chance?”

  The question was innocent enough, but his face suddenly darkened. “No, that’s not entirely accurate. I’m here searching for my last chance, and that’s something else altogether, isn’t it?” He started to walk back toward the diner, then abruptly stopped and pivoted back toward me. “It was nice seeing you, Suzanne.”

  “It was nice seeing you too,” I said.

  I watched him walk down the abandoned tracks until he was gone. What had I said? Had I touched a nerve with my comment? And what did he mean by his quest for a last chance? Our conversation raised more questions than it had provided answers, but it was pretty clear that my curiosity wasn’t going to be satisfied today.

  I was about to call Grace when I remembered that she was out of town. I’d grown to depend on my friend for her strength, and it bothered me that I couldn’t just run over to her place and see her when I needed to. I could always call her—I knew that—but it just wasn’t the same talking over the phone.

  I was wondering where Jake was at that moment when I heard the door to the donut shop open.

  At least the two cops who came out didn’t have any boxes of poison with them, though they were both carrying armloads of bags from the shop.

  “What are you two taking with you?”

  “Hang on a second, Suzanne,” one of the cops said. It was an officer named Stephen Grant who frequented my shop in his off hours.

  He turned to his partner and said, �
��Adam, why don’t you call the chief and tell him we’re through here. Ask him if Ms. Hart can get back in her building, would you?”

  “Okay,” his partner said.

  After he was gone, Officer Grant said in a hushed voice, “We didn’t find any poison in your shop, but the chief ordered us to take all of the donuts you had on hand for more testing. Sorry, my hands are tied.”

  “Then she really was poisoned with something from my shop?”

  Officer Grant looked back at his partner, who was still talking to someone on the radio. “You didn’t hear it from me, but yeah, somebody dusted the top of one of your donuts with rat poison, and we’re pretty sure that’s what killed her.”

  I said, “This is a real mess, isn’t it?”

  “We tried to be neat when we searched your place, Suzanne,” he said. He could barely make eye contact with me. Officer Grant was a slim young man barely over the required five feet eight inch requirement to be on the force. It was pretty obvious that the search had bothered him.

  “I’m sure you did your best,” I said. “Don’t let this bother you. I know this wasn’t your idea.”

  He shrugged. “I tried to tell the chief that if you wanted to kill Peg Masterson, you were too smart to spike one of your own donuts, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Thanks. I think,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, it was a compliment. We didn’t find anything that might incriminate you, but then again, I didn’t figure we would.”

  His partner came back and said, “He said it was all clear.”

  “She’s all yours,” Officer Grant said.

  “Thank you.”

  Once they were gone, I walked back into my shop. It was odd having the place to myself at eleven o’clock in the morning. The empty racks of donuts in the display shelves looked forlorn, and from the arrangement of the signs on the cases, I noticed that Emma had put the orange cake donuts where the maple frosted belonged. Out of habit more than anything else I remedied the miscue when I heard the doorbell chime.

  “Sorry, we’re not open,” I said.

  “Not even for me?”

  I turned and saw state police inspector and boyfriend Jake Bishop standing there.

  “I thought you were on the Outer Banks,” I said as I rushed to him and threw my arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  After our hug, he pulled away from me and said, “I wrapped it up quicker than I thought I would. What have you gotten yourself into this time, Suzanne?”

  “This wasn’t my fault, Jake.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? I had to see you, but I shouldn’t even be here until I check in with Chief Martin.”

  This wasn’t quite the support I’d been hoping for. “You should go, then. I’d hate for you to get in trouble because of me.”

  He shook his head and looked down at the floor. “You know what it’s like when I’m working on a case. I’m sorry it has to be this way, Suzanne.”

  “So am I,” I said.

  I wanted him to apologize, to hug me and tell me everything was going to be all right. Instead, he gave me one last, sad look, then walked out of my shop.

  It nearly broke my heart when he left, but I wasn’t going to let him know how much it bothered me.

  There was no reason to open again, and I knew it. That was one of the bad things about living in a small town. News—and more importantly, rumors—spread amongst the citizens of April Springs at an alarming rate, and there was no way I could stop everyone from thinking that one of my donuts had killed Peg Masterson.

  I was rattled by my conversation with Jake, more than I was willing to admit even to myself. I should have been cleaning the donut shop over the course of the next hour since it was clear there wouldn’t be any customers today, but instead, I sat at one of the booths and managed to feel sorry for myself as a way to pass the time. By the time noon rolled around, I was feeling a little better, and I knew that it was time to start cleaning up.

  I started to lock the front door when Heather Masterson, Peg’s niece, came charging up to the shop. She was a petite young woman with short, glossy black hair and eyes so dark that they nearly matched—just like her aunt’s had been—and I’d known her for nearly fifteen years. One thing was certain: she’d grown into a lovely young lady since I’d first babysat for her long ago, though it was hard to see that with the rage now dominating her features.

  “You killed my aunt,” she screamed at me. “Why, Suzanne? What did she ever do to you?”

  I knew Heather well enough to realize that she was hurting inside, and though she was usually a dear girl, the fire in her eyes in that instant was full of hate and pain.

  “I didn’t kill Peg,” I said, trying to calm her down.

  “Don’t try to deny it, Suzanne. I heard a donut killed her, and it had to be one of yours. I thought we were friends.”

  Her face started to crumble then, and it was all I could do not to wrap my arms around her and comfort her. “Heather, I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it. I’m innocent.”

  She stared hard at me for a few seconds, then said, “I don’t know what to think. I guess I just want to blame somebody, and you’re the easiest target there is at the moment. What a horrid thing to have happen to her. She was so sweet.”

  I raised my eyebrows as I stared at her.

  Heather frowned a little, then said grudgingly, “Okay, maybe sweet is going a little overboard, but I loved her, Suzanne. I know Aunt Peg could be a pain in the neck at times, but she was the last bit of family I had left.”

  Heather’s parents had died while she was still in high school. They’d gone on a camping trip without her, and a heater had malfunctioned in their motor home, filling it with deadly carbon monoxide. And now, two weeks from her twenty-first birthday, she’d lost her aunt. The reason I knew Heather’s birthday was approaching was because we shared the same day and month, something that had bonded us closer when she’d been younger.

  No matter how grown up she looked like on the outside, this was a frightened and sad little girl standing in front of me. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s got to be really hard on you.”

  Her tears started to slowly escape, though neither of us mentioned them. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn’t come charging in here blaming you. You’re just about the only friend I have left in this town these days. Suzanne, I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. I just hope the police find out who killed her, and soon.”

  “Me, too.” She wiped at her cheeks, swiping away the tears, then said, “I’ve got to go start planning her funeral. I’ll be staying at her house until I get this all sorted out.”

  “You could always stay with Momma and me. You’re welcome, you know that. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

  “I’ll be all right. It will give me some time to grieve by myself. But thanks for the offer, Suzanne. I really do appreciate it.”

  As she walked away, I saw Heather’s shoulders slump. I knew losing her aunt had been a blow to her, and I realized just how much it must have shaken her. Seeing her like that gave me one more reason to find out who had killed her aunt, and why.

  I locked the shop door, then I stared at the empty racks on the display shelves inside. There would be no food donation today, though I had promised Father Pete I’d have something for them at the church. The sad thing was, the folks who counted on my contributions and needed food would have nothing to eat from my kitchen that day, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

  I called the church to tell Father Pete that I wouldn’t be able to help after all.

  The only problem was that his secretary, Roberta Dowd, wouldn’t put me through to him.

  “I’m sorry, Suzanne, but he can’t be disturbed. His orders were most specific, and I mean to follow them.”

  “Roberta, I just need a second of his time. I won’t take long, I promise.”

  She paused,
then said, “I didn’t want to come out and say it, but I should tell you that we’re not interested in any of your food donations at the moment.”

  “Father Pete actually said that?” I thought we had a better relationship than that. What kind of minister ducked someone who was only trying to help?

  “He shouldn’t have to say it. Given what happened today, do you honestly think we’d want any contributions from your shop? How do we know that another donut isn’t tainted as well?”

  I tried not to scream as I said, “I wasn’t calling about making a donation. I wanted him to know that I wouldn’t be able to help out today after all.”

  “That’s for the best then, isn’t it?” she said smugly. “I’m still not certain it sends the right message to the people we’re trying to help to hand your donuts out to them. We can’t afford to drive anyone off. They have nowhere else to turn. You understand, don’t you, dear?”

  “Oh, I understand all right,” I said as I hung up, afraid to stay on the line any longer because of what I might say. The nerve of that woman. If I could have talked directly to Father Pete, I might have been able to explain what had really happened, but with his secretary acting as a gatekeeper, I had a better chance of talking to the president of the United States. Another, more chilling thought struck me. Was there a chance she’d been blocking my call on his orders? Was I suddenly our town’s very own Typhoid Mary?

  It wasn’t fair to Emma or her mother, either. They had made me proud, and I was going to do my best to convince my assistant that she was the perfect donut-making substitute whenever I wasn’t around, even though I had a bad feeling that after this, she wasn’t going to be interested in the job anymore.

  I hauled the trash out back to my Dumpster and was having trouble tipping it in when I heard someone behind me ask, “Can I give you a hand with that?”

  I didn’t even have to turn around to know that it was George Morris, a balding ex-cop in his sixties who was one of my best customers and good friends.

  “I could use it,” I admitted, and he took one handle while I took the other. We threw the trash away, and I wished I could clear me name that easily.