Hot Chocolate Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 29
Table of Contents
Title Page
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
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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 1
Heather hummed Jingle Bell Rock under her breath and positioned herself in front of one of the massive ovens in the kitchen of Donut Delights.
They’d installed a speaker in the top corner of the kitchen, exactly for this purpose. The melody trilled through the room, and Heather bopped along to the beat.
Donuts crisped up in the oven, and the rich scent of sweet, chocolate batter swirled up her nostrils.
Oh yeah, this was set to be the best holiday season yet.
“What are they?” Emily Potts asked, and peered past Heather at the newest creations. “They smell divine.”
“These are just the basic chocolate batter base,” Heather said and met her assistant’s eager gaze. “It’s what goes on top of them that’s real special.”
“What is it?” Emily asked.
Heather turned and strolled to the counter, then tapped a finger to the first of three bowls. “A fluffy marshmallow whip,” she said.
She shifted up the counter to the next bowl. “And then, a dripping warm chocolate ganache. Warm, not hot, because we want the marshmallow whip to maintain its position.”
“Oh my gosh,” Emily said and whipped out her notepad. “My mouth is watering already.”
“And finally, a handful of marshmallows,” Heather said, and pinched two white marshmallows from the bowl. She gave one to Emily, then popped the other into her mouth. “I call them Hot Chocolate Glazed Donuts. Not exactly an imaginative name, but hey, they’re going to taste awesome.”
“I bet!” Emily said, and gobbled up her marshmallow.
The kitchen doors swung inward, and Heather’s bestie strolled into the room. She placed her fists on her hips and pursed her lips. “You’d better not be eating donuts without me, in here, Shepherd,” Amy Givens said. “You know how I feel about that. It’s a serious offense.”
“We had a marshmallow,” Emily said and grinned.
Amy feigned a gasp. “Betrayal,” she sang and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead.
“Do you need help out front?” Heather asked.
“Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” Amy replied. She dropped her arms to her sides and swung them back and forth. She’d chosen a lurid, red sweater with Santa Claus’ face on the front and a pair of jeans for her outfit today. The Donut Delights apron did little to cover up the fashion disaster.
Amy didn’t care a bit.
“Then what’s up?”
“Sharon Janis is out there,” Amy said. “And she’s causing trouble.”
“Oh boy,” Heather said and sighed. She tightened the straps of her apron, then touched Emily’s arm. “Take care of the donuts for me, please. They’ll need to come out in a few minutes.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Heather walked to her bestie and grimaced. “How bad is this ‘trouble’ you speak of?”
Amy pushed the kitchen door open and led the path out into the front of the store. “See for yourself,” she whispered.
Sharon Janis stood in the center of the room. Larger than life, in her leopard print jeans and gold knit sweater. She’d piled her hair on top of her head again, in that classic bright, red cone.
A woman faced off against her, arms folded. She was Sharon’s opposite. Her gray cardigan hung loose, along with her soft, blond hair. Though her green eyes could’ve burnt a hole in an ice sculpture.
“You should’ve called me sooner,” Heather whispered.
“It wasn’t this bad when I left. They were sitting down across from each other, yelling,” Amy replied, in equally hushed tones.
“You’ve ruined my son’s life,” the woman said.
Sharon Janis tittered a laugh which didn’t hold any mirth. “Ruined? Jane, please. We all know he ruined his own life by planning to steal from the dealership.”
Jane’s lips quivered. She opened and closed her mouth.
Every eye in Donut Delights focused on the pair of women. Who would win? Had Sharon finally crossed the line?
Ugh, what a totally un-Christmas-like occurrence. And in the center of Heather’s store no less.
“Mark is not a thief! He’s a good man. You’ve ruined him with your rumor-mongering.”
“I didn’t do a thing,” Sharon said and examined her bright red nails. She flicked them through the air. “I merely gave George a nudge in the right direction.”
“Liar! Everyone in Hillside knows what you are,” Jane hissed.
Silence fell. Even the clinking of cups and the slow chew-chew of donuts ceased. The twinkle of Christmas music did nothing to ease the mood, nor did the white misted Christmas trees on the windows.
“This is better than Days of Our Lives,” Amy whispered.
“What am I?” Sharon asked. “I’d love to hear it from you, doormat.”
“You’re a mean, lonely gossip. You’ve got no life, so you spend your time trying to ruin everyone else’s. I won’t stand for it,” Jane growled.
Sharon squared her shoulders. “Why, you little –”
“That’s enough,” Heather said, in a clear tone. “I won’t have this kind of behavior in my store. You’re ruining Monday morning for everyone else.”
Sharon opened her mouth to reply.
“No, Janis,” Heather said. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask both of you to leave. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to call the police.”
Amy broke into a wry grin. “Out you go, Sharon,” she said. Of all the women in Donut Delights, Ames had the least patience for the town gossip. “Run off back to your hidey hole.”
“Don’t you start,” Heather muttered.
Ames shrugged and returned to her spot behind the counter.
The woman, Jane, didn’t hesitate. She made a swift exit and had the grace to blush. But Sharon, oh de
ar, Sharon, she didn’t give two hoots.
She narrowed her eyes at Heather and placed both fists on her leopard-print hips. “You’ll regret this, Heather Shepherd. Mark my words.”
Sharon spun on her heel and clip-clopped out of the store. The bell tinkled, and the door slammed behind her.
Noise resumed in the store as usual. People turned back to their snacks or leaned in to discuss the argument.
Another day in the life of the Donut Delights crew.
Chapter 2
Heather strolled down the sidewalk, gaze on the horizon, where the setting sun stroked pink and orange across the cloudless sky. “Another perfect afternoon in Hillside,” she said, in a low hum of pleasure.
“Perfect,” Amy said and shivered along beside her bestie. She puffed up her coat and sank into it. “If you call being frozen alive, perfect.”
Lilly giggled and held onto the ends of two leashes. One for Cupcake, who’d followed them out of the house and insisted on a walk, and the other for Dave, who wagged his tail and sniffed Cupcake every other step.
The adoption process had only begun with Lilly, but the mood in their home had never been higher.
“Come on, Ames. It’s almost Christmas. Even you can’t be grumpy at this time of year,” Heather said and punched her bestie on the puffed up arm.
“My grumpiness knows no bounds, woman. Don’t you forget it,” Amy replied.
They turned the corner and walked down the sidewalk toward Heather’s house in the distance. They’d already organized a full-on girl’s dinner at home since Ryan had an evening shift.
It’d end early for Lilly, who had school tomorrow, but the laughter and jokes would carry her off to a warm bed and good dreams, no doubt.
“Lils, you did finish your homework, right?” Heather asked.
“Before the walk,” Lilly replied, and tapped the side of her nose in an Eva Schneider pose. “I know what’s good for me, mom.”
Heather’s heart skipped a beat. It happened every time Lilly called her ‘mom.' She’d end up in hospital at this rate.
A car engine started just ahead of them, near her home. A low, sputtering growl she associated with early morning wake-up calls, donuts, and coffee. She frowned. Boy, that sounded awfully familiar.
Amy’s hand clamped down on her forearm. “Heather,” she said and sucked in a gasp. “Heather, I think someone’s stealing your car!”
“What?!” She stopped dead in her tracks.
Dave burst into a frantic barking episode and tugged on the end of the leash. Lilly’s jaw dropped.
Reality froze. The Hillside sun on the horizon, the breeze which tickled the back of Heather’s neck and Dave’s barks of indignation faded to a background setting.
Heather’s gaze zoomed in and out of the back of her ’98 Honda Civic, dark blue. Her favorite color on a car. She’d picked it out because of that alone.
The taillights lit up. The car screeched backward out of her drive, tires smoking.
“Stop!” Amy yelled.
Heather burst into action. The bubble of sound and space burst. “Hey!” She sprinted toward her driveway. “You get out of my car.” That had to be the worst catchphrase ever invented.
The Honda zoomed off down the road. It skidded around the corner and disappeared from sight.
Unspent adrenaline coursed through Heather’s veins. She jogged to a halt in front of her drive and glared at the corner. Her hair stuck to her forehead, and she forced the sweaty strands back.
“I don’t believe this,” she said and shook her head.
Sure, Hillside had its problems. But theft, in general, wasn’t one them. And grand theft auto? That was practically unheard of.
“Oh my gosh,” Amy said and stopped beside Heather. Lilly stood the other side of her, shaking her head from left to right, in a continuous loop. “Oh my gosh,” Amy repeated. “What are you going to do? This is a disaster. You’ll never see that car –”
“Keep calm,” Heather said and exhaled slowly.
The adrenaline petered out, and a clear sense of focus settled behind Heather’s eyes. She’d dealt with worse situations than this before.
Dead friends. Murder mysteries. The theft of her car wouldn’t stop her.
“Are you all right, Lils?” Heather asked.
The girl switched from head shaking to a quick nod. Amy slung her arm around Lilly’s shoulder and squeezed her tight.
Heather swiped her thumb across the screen and unlocked her phone. She tapped through to her husband’s number and dialed.
“Everyone stay calm, okay? Lils, pick up Cupcake, she’s teasing Dave again,” Heather said and placed the phone to her ear.
“Detective Shepherd,” Ryan said, on the other end of the line.
“Hey hon,” Heather replied, in a cool tone which totally did not reflect her inner landscape. “My car’s just been stolen.”
“Where?”
“From our driveway. I didn’t catch a glimpse of who did it, but they’re heading into the suburbs, from what I can gather. Down Jerome Street.”
Ryan hung up without replying.
Apparently, the situation was urgent enough to warrant rude behavior. For once, Heather agreed.
She dropped the phone to her side, then cleared her throat. “Well, he knows now, and that means they’re on the thief’s trail.”
Amy and Lilly shivered as one. Cupcake’s ears flicked back and forth. Dave sat on Amy’s foot, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
The unshakeable Dave.
“All right. Let’s all get inside and get warmed up. I think a strong cup of hot chocolate is in order,” Heather said.
“I second that,” Amy replied.
They traipsed toward the house, past the empty driveway, and up the front stairs. Heather unlocked the front door, then hurried inside and punched the buttons on their new alarm.
The ladies filed past her and into the living room, along with Dave who trotted along and shook his collar.
What a downer. They’d expected a fun night, not theft in the front yard.
Heather’s phone trilled in her palm, and her heart skipped a beat.
She answered without checking the caller ID.
“Shepherd,” she said.
“We got the car,” Ryan said, but he didn’t sound triumphant.
“That was quick,” Heather replied.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, then cleared his throat, twice. “The thief ran over someone with it, then escaped.”
“Ran over someone?” Heather whispered and walked away from the living room. “What? Who?”
“Sharon Janis,” Ryan said. “Heather, she’s dead. And I don’t think it was a coincidence.”
Chapter 3
The impound lot had a big city atmosphere Heather hadn’t anticipated. Chain link fences surrounded the area, and the tarmac had long since fallen into disrepair.
Ryan stood a few feet away, head bent in conversation with the guard in front of the small concrete building designed as a guard house for the lot.
“Well,” Heather said. “This should be horrifying.”
Dark gray clouds drifted overhead, and the half-light didn’t suit her usual early morning mood. She’d have given anything to be back in Donut Delights, instead of here.
Ryan turned and walked toward her. “It’s close. Just around the corner, actually. Lot number 316.”
Heather wriggled her nose but followed her husband across the scarred macadam toward the lot in question. She’d never been particularly attached to her car, but memories flooded her mind, now.
The times she’d carted Eva to the hospital. All the donuts she’d delivered to the retirement home. Amy bopping along to some song on the radio.
None of those memories mattered anymore because her car, her humble navy blue Honda Civic, was forever tarnished by what the killer had done.
“It was purposeful? You’re sure?” Heather asked.
They turned the corner, and her car appe
ared, dull beneath the overcast sky.
“Whoever did it stopped the car right after the impact, then got out and left it there. If the goal was to steal the car, why stop? Why not hightail it out of there, change the plates, head to another state?” Ryan asked.
“True,” Heather said. “But something about the scenario doesn’t add up.” Sure, she’d never liked Sharon Janis – the woman had been a gossip at the best of times and an insult-slinger at the worst – but she’d never have dreamed she’d be investigating her death.
Ryan stopped in front of the car, then produced Heather’s car keys from his pocket. “That’s why we’re here.” He circled to the driver’s side, unlocked it, then opened the door. “Gloves,” he said.
Heather dug the pair of latex gloves from her pocket and snapped them on. He’d given them to her before they’d entered the impound lot.
“The team’s already come in to take fingerprints off the wheel. We have to be neat, but we don’t need to worry about messing up their work, at least,” Ryan said. He crossed to the back door and opened it. “I’ll check out the back.”
Heather ignored the dent in the hood and walked around to the driver’s side and sniffed. “Ugh, the car smells strange.”
“Strange how?”
“I don’t know. Smoky,” she replied, and bent closer to the seat.
A small mark caught her gaze. A circular burn mark on the edge of her seat.
“And now I know why. The killer was a smoker,” she said and pointed at the mark.
Ryan peered between the seats. He reached into his top pocket and fished out his notepad, then brought out his ballpoint and clicked it once. He scribbled something on the page, but Heather didn’t try to make it out.
She didn’t know anyone who smoked. And she certainly couldn’t pinpoint any person who’d want to steal her car to kill a woman.
Heather backed out of the car and stood straight. The wind tugged at her long coat and iced her cheeks. “This doesn’t make sense.”
“What?” Ryan asked and appeared from the depths of the back seat. “The cigarette?”
“No, the car. Why would the killer have stolen my car, mine, to run over Sharon Janis?” Heather asked. “I mean, there are plenty of other cars on our street. They could’ve chosen another one.”