Chocolate Pomegranate Glaze Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 18 Read online

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  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2016 by Guardian Publishing Group - All rights reserved.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 1

  Heather strode down the sidewalk and held the box of donuts against her stomach.

  Amy walked beside her and matched her pace.

  They fixed their gazes to the store five spaces down from Donut Delights.

  “This is pretty exciting,” Amy said. “If only for the fact that the order is done and we don’t have to hear the incessant drilling from next door anymore.”

  The construction to expand Heather’s little donut shop still hadn’t ceased. “Oh come on, Ames,” Heather said and slowed down. “It’s not that bad. Besides, when it’s over we’ll have –”

  “I know, I know. An all new Donut Delights expansion. It’s going to be awesome. But do you blame me for wanting to bonk one of those construction workers over the head with a donut box?” Amy asked and lifted her box of donuts; the cardboard emblazoned with the donut logo.

  “Maricela threatened to do that with a rolling pin, the other day.”

  Amy chuckled, then cleared her throat. “Another new business in town. Hillside is totally booming, right now.”

  “Yeah, it’s awesome and who knows? Maybe Clarissa will give us free nail appointments for this,” Heather said. “Uh, though I’m not one for long nails.”

  “I could rock some talons,” Amy replied, then stuck her tongue out. “Maybe not.”

  “What about a neat French manicure?” Heather asked, then flicked her gaze back to the store – Cheeky’s Nails.

  The newest addition to the row of boutiques and businesses in the same street as Donut Delights. And the proprietor, Clarissa ‘Cheeky’ James, had ordered two dozen Chocolate Pomegranate Glazed donuts for her opening the next day.

  Heather loosened her grip on the box. She hadn’t had a good mani-pedi in months.

  “Free or not,” Amy said, “I’m getting a manicure tomorrow, and that’s final.”

  “Agreed.” Heather needed to de-stress before her final test later in the week.

  They stopped in front of the plate-glass door to Cheeky’s Nails and shared a glance. The lights blared inside, highlighting the white tiles and the serene, blue walls. Images of nails, outrageous in every color imaginable, hung on the wall opposite the chairs and manicure stations.

  “Seem kinda quiet,” Amy whispered.

  Heather swallowed. Her sleuth senses twitched. But no, that had to be paranoia. “Don’t even think it,” she said and narrowed her eyes at her bestie. “Don’t even.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Amy replied, and gave her the puppy dog’s eyes – Dave’s specialty. “I’m just saying it’s quiet, is all.”

  Heather shushed her bestie, then knocked once on the door. She stared at the chairs at the pedicure station, cushy and white, then sniffed. “Oh boy,” she said.

  The sun crept over the horizon, and pink and orange swirled through the wisps of cloud in the sky.

  “Well?” Amy asked. “Shouldn’t we go in?”

  “Yeah,” Heather said. Then shook her head. “Take the donuts for a second.”

  “Oh, great, more temptation,” Amy replied, and Heather slipped the second box of donuts on top of the one in her best friend’s arms. “What are you doing, anyway?”

  “Call it a jaded opinion or good sense, but I don’t trust an empty building in this town,” Heather replied, and fiddled around in her tote bag. “Too many negative past experiences.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Heather brought out her Taser and clicked off the safety. She patted the cold, hard plastic and winked at Amy. “Just in case, you know.”

  “There’s never a dull moment with Heather Shepherd around.”

  Heather opened the front door to the salon and bathed her nose in the sharp scent of acetone and nail polish. “Hello? Clarissa?”

  “Cheeky,” Amy hissed.

  “Cheeky,” Heather said. “Are you in there? This is Heather from Donut Delights. I’ve got your Chocolate Pomegranate Glazed donuts.”

  “Yeah, and we’re not afraid to eat them.”

  Heather ignored Amy’s good mood and stepped into the salon. She gripped the Taser and scanned the area. An open door at the far end of the room caught her attention. She beckoned to Amy, then strode across the tiles.

  “Cheeky?” Heather asked. She placed her free palm against the cold wood of the door, then pushed. It creaked open.

  “Why did it have to do that?” Amy whined.

  Heather reached in and clicked on the light at the switch on the wall. Her fingers fumbled against the plastic, and then she snapped her arm back to her side. Dread swirled through her belly.

  “What is it?”

  “She’s dead,” Heather said, in a monotone. “We have to call Ryan.”

  Cheeky James lay face down, behind her desk. A bullet hole in the wall told Heather everything she needed to know. She clicked off the light, then turned back to her bestie. “Don’t go in there.”

  “Did not plan on it,” Amy whispered, then shifted the donuts in her arms.

  Heather squished her cell out of the pocket of her jeans, then swiped to unlock the screen. She tapped through to Ryan’s number and pressed the green phone icon.

  Amy backed off slowly. She sat down in one of the pedicure chairs, gaze glued to the open door. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.” Heather pressed her cell to her ear.

  The rings tickled her patience. “My love?”

  “We’ve got a situation down at Cheeky’s Nails.”

  “Is that code for something?” Ryan asked, and coughed. “Hon, I’m super busy, right now. We’ve just heard that a new captain –”

  “It’s the new salon down the street from my store. The owner’s name is Clarissa James. Cheeky for short. At least, that was her name.”

  “Was?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah, she’s been shot,” Heather said. “She didn’t make it.”

  “I’m on my way,” Ryan replied, then hung up.

  Amy dug her fingertips into the lid of the top box on her lap. She blinked up at Heather. “There’s really a body, a –”

  Heather waved a hand at the boxes. “Have
one of the donuts, Ames. You need the sugar. Cheeky won’t need them anymore, anyway.” She’d become desensitized to murder, and even to bodies, after months of investigating deaths and solving crimes.

  Amy pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “What the –?” A man spoke from the door.

  Heather turned and raised the Taser.

  A young guy, probably the same age as Cheeky had been, stepped into the salon. His bright, green eyes blinked once, twice. His gaze skipped from Heather’s Taser to Amy’s greenish complexion.

  “Who are you?” He asked, then pushed a pair of sunglasses into his dirty, blond hair.

  “I’m Heather Shepherd,” she replied, then jabbed the non-lethal weapon at him. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “Uh, I’m Lionel? I’m Cheeky’s ex-boyfriend. She called me a half hour ago.”

  “A half hour?” Amy gasped, then jerked upright. The donut boxes teetered in her grip. “They could still be here. The ki –”

  “Amy!” Heather hissed.

  “What? Look, what are you doing here?” Lionel asked, and cracked his knuckles.

  Heather squared her shoulders. “Lionel, I’m afraid Cheeky’s been shot. The police are on their way, right now.”

  Lionel’s jaw dropped. The glasses slid from his hair and onto his forehead. He kinda looked like a fly. “Sh-shot?” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Police?”

  Heather clicked the Taser and electricity shot between the silver poles. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stay where you are.”

  Cheeky’s body had barely cooled, and her ex-boyfriend showed up at the scene of the crime? Coincidence or – no, Heather didn’t place much stock in coincidences.

  Police sirens rang out, nearby. Flashing lights reflected in the windows.

  “Are you crazy?” Lionel asked, and still didn’t move his sunglasses.

  “No,” she replied. “I already told you. I’m Heather.”

  Chapter 2

  “And you think the donuts are going to make him talk?” Amy asked, and eyed the box of Choc Pomegranate Glazes. She hadn’t eaten a donut since Cheeky’s death the afternoon before.

  Heather gripped the small Donuts Delights box in her right hand. She walked down the sidewalk, an easy pace for an easy morning, and nodded. “Ryan said that he’s the main suspect. I know he questioned Lionel last night, but he still can’t reveal to me exactly what was said or why the guy was there.”

  “I thought he said he got a call from Cheeky?” Amy asked. She smoothed her shoulder-length blond hair, then fluffed it with her fingers. “I mean; I wasn’t in the best state yesterday evening. I can’t be sure.”

  “Yeah, he said something like that. But I want more detail. He’s my main lead,” Heather said. It wasn’t even a question she’d take on the case.

  What were the chances that she’d walk in on a crime scene down the road from her establishment? Pretty good, actually, because murders and crime scenes drew Heather in.

  She had the will to solve them. It was her purpose.

  Heather sniffed. “He’s at University, this kid,” she said, then wiped sweat from her brow. The heat had simmered down. A slow descent into Fall had begun, but a kicker of a hot day had set in early that morning.

  “Then what’s he doing in Hillside?”

  “He’s home on a self-imposed sabbatical. That’s the gossip around town. And there’s plenty of it,” Heather replied.

  “Why?”

  “Because his mother is Sharon Janis,” Heather replied.

  Hillside had its fair share of gossips, but good ol’ Sharon was at her peak. The commander in chief of all tall tales, rumors and musings around the coffee tables and donuts in Donut Delights.

  “Self-imposed sabbatical,” Amy said. “So that’s what they call dropping out these days.”

  “I would warn you to be nice, but I know it’s futile,” Heather replied. “Anyway, he’s working a holiday job at South Bosque Bait and Tackle.”

  “I think you mean ‘sabbatical’ job.” Amy chuckled, then shrugged. “I can’t help it. It’s my nature.”

  Heather hummed The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel and Amy stuck out her tongue, then rolled her eyes.

  The women rounded the corner, then stopped. The store stared at them from across the street and memories flashed through Heather’s mind. She’d come to the Bait and Tackle store twice before, to speak to Roger ‘Mudd’ Rivers about a murder.

  “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Amy asked, and wriggled her nose at the dust-covered windows.

  “Unfortunately. I’m still not over Jelly Polinski’s murder. Partly because her father did it, and partly because I still haven’t gotten my stolen recipe book back from Ryan’s evidence room.”

  Amy squeezed Heather on the arm. “I don’t want to rush you, but I’m baking like a donut on a tray, out here.”

  “Right,” Heather said, then charged across the empty street. They reached the front door, and Amy opened it, then held it for her friend.

  The women entered and a strange fishy scent enveloped them. “Wow,” Amy said, and waved a hand in front of her nose. “Suddenly, glad I didn’t come in here before.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Heather whispered. She cleared her throat, then walked to the counter. Mudd was nowhere to be seen. She tapped her nails on the wood surface. “Hello? Is anyone in here?”

  “Just a second,” a man yelled, from the other end of the store. “Just one second.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Mudd,” Heather said. “He’s got a twang.”

  Two seconds passed, and Amy popped up on her toes, then dropped back to her heels again. “Seriously, two more minutes and I won’t be able to get this smell out of my clothes.”

  “Sorry, that took so long,” the man said, and bustled out of a door at the far end of the room. He strode between the steel shelving, the hooks, and baubles – Heather had no clue as to their purpose.

  He reached the side of the counter, then froze. “You,” he said.

  “Lionel,” Heather replied, and plastered up a smile. Not the customer smile, no, this had a hint of cunning to it. This kid needed to sweat a little. She could read him like an open book, and he’d crack under enough pressure.

  Light pressure, of course. She wasn’t into the whole ‘bad cop’ scene.

  “What are you doing here?” He stammered.

  “I’m surprised you’re back at work so soon after Cheeky’s death, Lionel. Weren’t you two close?” Heather asked.

  Lionel flapped his mouth open and closed again.

  “You said she called you last night,” Heather said and let her arms hang loosely at her sides.

  “You – who are you?”

  “Heather,” she said.

  “She told you that like three times last night?” Amy nudged her bestie. “Give him the donut.”

  Heather extended the box, but Lionel flinched back. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for your loss, Lionel. I’ve lost a few friends, and I know what it’s like. That’s what the donut is for.” She smiled at him and softened it slightly. “I own Donut Delights. You might’ve heard of it.”

  “Mudd talks about that place a lot,” Lionel said, but he didn’t take the box. He just stared at it.

  “What did Cheeky say when she called you?”

  “Not much. I just got a message. She shouted that she needed me at the salon, then hung up,” Lionel replied.

  Heather and Amy exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised. “You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of that message?”

  Lionel ran a hand through his wavy hair and lowered his gaze. “Cops took my phone.”

  The front door burst inward, and all three of them jumped. Amy yelped then tried to hide it by faking a sneeze.

  Mudd Rivers strode into the store. “There you are!” He yelled, at his new assistant. “I called the store twenty darn times an – oh, Mrs. Shepherd. Sorry, didn’t see ya there. How ar
e ya doin’?”

  Heather shook Mudd’s hand. “I’m great, thank you, Mudd. I was just having a chat with this fine young man.”

  Mudd scoffed. He’d had a bad opinion of his previous assistant too. “Fine young man, you say? Ha.”

  He grabbed his box of matches off the corner of the counter, then fumbled around in the pocket of his red and black checked shirt. He grabbed the long, brown stem of a pipe and dragged it out.

  “Fine he might be. But he’s also a good for nothing –” He opened the box of matches, and a cockroach erupted out of it.

  Mudd Rivers gave a high-pitched scream and threw the matches and his pipe into the air. “What in tarnation?!”

  Giggles trembled on Lionel’s lips. He tried to cover them with his fingers.

  Too late.

  Mudd Rivers turned on his assistant. “You again! I told you to stop your dumb-brained pranks. I swear, boy, if your mama wasn’t a close personal friend I’d fire ya on the spot. First rubber chickens now –”

  Heather tuned out then rhetoric. She crooked a finger to her bestie. Mudd’s entire visage had turned purple, and he’d probably keep going for a good ten minutes. Interview time was over.

  Heather had a donut store to get back to and orders to fill. Not to mention her studies.

  She heaved a sigh, then headed for the door. Questions looped through her mind.

  Why had Cheeky called her ex-boyfriend for help?

  Chapter 3

  Heather stood beside Eva’s favorite table at the front of the store, her arms folded across her chest. The construction workers next door were on a break, and she could think clearly for the first time since this morning.

  “What’s the matter, dear?” Eva asked. She shifted a donut on her plate, then lifted her cup of strong, bitter coffee and took a sip. “Is it the construction? Because you know you’ll be able to open the doors to the general public soon.”

  Heather nodded and unfolded her arms. “It is frustrating having to deliver instead of having a store full of happy customers.” The warm atmosphere had made Donut Delights special from the start. “But that’s not what’s bothering me.”