Spooky Choc Orange Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 23 Read online

  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.

  All rights Reserved. No part of this publication or the information in it may be quoted from or reproduced in any form by means such as printing, scanning, photocopying or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  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

  “It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” Amy sang and readjusted her grip on the silver tray of donuts.

  “That’s Christmas,” Heather replied.

  “Not for me.” Amy grinned and stomped her feet into her pointed shoes. “Halloween is where it’s at.”

  “I would’ve thought the exact opposite given that you’re allergic to graveyards and constantly paranoid.”

  Amy stuck out her tongue. “There’s a difference between real fear and fake bats.” She swatted one of the accused which drifted above her head, at the end of a string.

  Halloween was just a day away. Lilly would never have forgiven them if they’d missed the actual night of trick or treating and candy rushes.

  Heather Shepherd glanced up and down the porch at the guests of the party, then raised her fist and rapped her knuckles on the wood of the open front door, right below the scary skeleton decoration which hung from the knocker. “Donut delivery,” she called out.

  “It’s a Halloween party,” Amy muttered. “Pretty sure we can go in.”

  “I don’t want to overstep my bounds. It is Sarah Kenny’s party, after all,” Heather said, but she took a tentative step forward.

  “Excuse my witchy ignorance,” Amy replied, and adjusted her pointed hat. “But who’s Sarah Kenny?”

  The other partygoers closest to them froze and stared at Ames. Their jaws dropped.

  Amy’s cheeks colored. “I feel like I just asked to buy a Samsung in an Apple store.”

  “Let’s go in. We’ll find her inside,” Heather said and scooted into the entrance hall of the massive house.

  Jack-o’ lanterns lined the hall. Their scary pumpkin faces peered up at the two wicked witches of the west. They hurried deeper into the house, drawn on by the laughter and chatter.

  “Okay, so, you still haven’t told me who this lady is,” Amy whispered, then glanced back over her shoulder at the front door. “Hurry, before they tar and feather me.”

  “Sarah Kenny is the most popular socialite in Hillside. I’m surprised Sharon Janis hasn’t cornered you and given you the lowdown on her yet. She hosts parties like this all the time. The fact that we’re catering donuts for this event is a big deal,” Heather replied.

  Honestly, they had bigger orders than this, now that they’d taken their business online, but Sarah Kenny had the potential to get them even more business through association.

  “Sarah Kenny. No wonder her house is a mansion.” Rachel jerked her head toward the red carpeted staircase which twirled up to a second floor.

  “Apparently, she’s got an elevator to the third floor somewhere in here,” Heather said.

  “A glass elevator, actually.” A woman draped in orange and black silks appeared from a side door. “Everything you’ve heard about my home is true.” Sarah Kenny flashed them a smile decorated in white teeth and false hopes.

  Heather held out her tray of donuts. “Delivery,” she said and put up her best customer smile.

  “Fantastic. You can put them in the living room,” the socialite said, then pointed down the hall. “See if you can find it on your own. It will be something of a game for you ladies.” She tittered a laugh then leaned closer to Amy. “I have ten living rooms.” Sarah Kenny winked, and her false eyelashes fluttered.

  “Did we stumble into an alternate reality?” Amy whispered to Heather. “I feel like I’ve just met my polar opposite.”

  Heather readjusted her tray, and the donuts hopped around on top of it. “Mrs. Kenny, if you could –”

  “There you are,” another woman said, and swept down the hall toward them.

  Amy shrank back. She’d definitely exited her comfort zone.

  Sarah Kenny stiffened and shifted the witch hat on her head. “Georgia Summers,” she said. “Who let you in?”

  “Georgia Summers? I’ve heard of her, at least,” Amy said.

  Both the socialites turned and stared at her.

  Amy shrank back and grimaced.

  Heather bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Both women, the famed socialites of Hillside high society, wore identical witch costumes in orange and black.

  Amy and Heather had opted for purple and black, at least. Apparently, witch costumes were a hit this year.

  Georgia placed her fists on her skinny hips. She pursed her lips, then tucked a strand of platinum blond hair behind her ear. “I see you copied my costume again this year.”

  “Oh please,” Sarah replied and tittered a laugh. “You flatter yourself, darling. I understand it’s because no one else does.”

  A crowd of people gathered in the doorways opposite the hall and peered out at the women.

  Georgia sauntered up to the other woman, stopped, then examined her silk, elbow-length gloves. “Your husband flatters me quite frequently, Sarah. Just the other day I received a call from Mr. Kenny, himself, seeking investors for his newest venture.”

  The crowd gasped and recoiled. Sarah’s cheeks reddened, and a young girl with pitch black hair snorted then turned on her heel and stormed off. She parted the crowds with vicious jabs from her elbows.

  Heather backed off, slowly. Amy stood dead still and stared.

  “Ames,” Heather hissed. “Come on, let’s got put these down. This isn’t our business.”

  “Just a sec. I’ve got to pick my jaw up off the floor.”

  “You’re low,” Sarah Kenny said. “And that’s why I won’t respond to your petulant jibes.”

  Georgia Summer laughed behind a black-gloved hand. “How mature of you. Ever the host.”

  Sarah Kenny’s gaze speared Amy mid-stride. “You two put the donuts in the living room, as I said. Feel free to stay for the party.”

  “Really?” Georgia asked. “You
want to put these good women through the torture of attending?” She stifled a yawn, then fanned her face.

  “You’re more than welcome to leave,” Sarah replied, through a fake smile. She looked like a jack-o-lantern.

  “Oh, I’d prefer to liven the party up a bit,” Georgia said and straightened her costume. “I’m sure I can find a way to achieve that.” Then she spun on her heel and trotted off down the hall. Her long, blond hair swished with each step.

  Heather and Amy stood side-by-side and clutched their trays. They shared a glance.

  “Did we just step into the Twilight Zone?” Heather asked.

  “Looks like it,” Amy replied, then pointed at the orange glazed treats on her tray. “But at least we have donuts, this time.”

  Chapter 2

  “The donuts are a hit,” Amy said and dodged an orange streamer. It fluttered to the ground beside the long wooden table in the living room. Guests mulled around and ate Choc Orange Glazed Donuts.

  Heather grinned at the few donuts left on the tray in front of her.

  These were her favorites. She’d considered a pumpkin theme, but in the end, the orange glaze had called to her.

  Simplicity at its finest, if she did say so herself. A chocolate deep fried donuts injected with two pockets of vanilla, cinnamon cream, and dipped in an unctuous, sticky orange glaze.

  Heather swept her witch’s hat off her head, ruffled her hair, then popped it back on top again.

  A few of the guests chatted about the argument between Sarah Kenny and Georgia Summers behind their hands.

  “Can you believe she did that?” A woman whispered. Her voice sounded suspiciously like Sharon Janis’ – Hillside’s pro-gossip. “I mean, in front of everyone. It’s crazy.”

  Heather checked her watch and sighed. “It’s getting late. I promised Lils I’d be home to say goodnight.” And she truly didn’t want to listen to gossip all night long.

  “Then let’s go,” Amy said. “It’s not like we have a job to do here.”

  Heather worried her bottom lip between her teeth, then nodded. “True. Let’s just cover our bases here and thank the host before we leave.”

  Amy nodded, then stepped back from the donut trays. “If we have to.”

  “It would leave a terrible opinion of the store if we just scooted on out of here without thanking her,” Heather said.

  “Even if she is deplorable,” Amy muttered.

  Heather shrugged. “It’s no excuse, but she’s fabulously wealthy. I think when you reach that level of wealth, you don’t think about the ‘little’ people anymore. And to her, we’re the ‘little’ people.”

  “Huh,” Ames said, then folded her arms. “I gotta tell ya, there’s a difference between being rich and wealthy. I see a whole lot of richness in the room, for instance.” She gestured at the decorations and the crystal chandelier overhead. “But not a whole lot of class.”

  “Point taken,” Heather said.

  They strode out of the living room – the fifth they’d explored in their quest to place the donuts – and down the hall.

  “If I were a Hillside socialite with a bad attitude and a duplicate costume, where would I be?” Amy asked and tapped her chin. “That is a thinker.”

  Heather chuckled and opened a set of French-styled parlor doors and walked onto a balcony. “What on earth?”

  “This isn’t where we parked the car,” Amy said.

  “This place is a maze. I thought for sure this led to another living room,” Heather replied.

  Amy stepped up beside her, then blinked in the darkness. Lights shone from a small house down in the garden, and globes lit a pathway toward it.

  “Funny. The lights are on out there, but not here,” Amy said. “Hey, what’s that?” She pointed to a lone figure, down in the garden.

  Heather squinted at the source of the disturbance. “Looks like a woman.”

  “Think it's Sarah? Maybe she’s out for a stroll. Probably needs to cool off after that little argument, earlier.”

  “No, no. That lady is too short for Sarah, and she’s got on a different outfit. Black with a white apron. A maid?” Trust Sarah Kenny to dress her maid in ye old timey outfit befitting of the help back in the 1800s.

  “What on earth is she doing?” Amy asked, and took a step forward. She stumbled, and her silhouette disappeared. A thump and then Heather’s bestie groaned. “Ouch. I just fell over something.”

  “Are you all right?” Heather asked.

  “Ugh, just a graze, I think but could you switch on the –” Amy cut off, then shuddered a gasp.

  “Lights?” Heather suggested, then stepped back and stuck her hand back into the hall. She fumbled for the switch on the wall.

  “Heather?” Amy croaked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Heather, you’re not on the floor with me right now, right?”

  “Uh, weirdest question ever, but no, I’m not. I’m looking for the lights,” Heather said, and her fingers scraped across plastic. “Ah, found ‘em.”

  “Oh,” Amy said and scrambled around on the wooden boards. “Because someone else is.”

  “What?!” Heather flipped the switch, and warm, yellow light flooded the space.

  Amy yelped and hopped up right, then jogged backward and slapped into the railing at the end of the balcony. Heather pressed a palm to her lips.

  Sarah Kenny lay face up on the floor. Her chest didn’t rise and fall.

  Amy shut her eyes and pressed her fingers against her lids. “I can’t look. I’m not seeing that. I didn’t just touch a dead woman.”

  Heather dropped down beside Sarah and pressed her fingers to the host’s throat. No pulse.

  “This isn’t happening,” Amy said and shook her head. Her witch hat fell off and flopped to the ground. “What was that?”

  “Ames, you need to calm down.” Heather rose from her crouch and dragged her cell phone out of her small, black clutch. “I’m calling Ryan, okay? Just keep calm.”

  “Gee, I’m sorry. I’m not used to running into dead bodies every other day. My bad,” Amy whimpered and turned her back on the scene. She dropped her hands to the railing and clutched it. “Heather, I’m scared. What if the killer is –”

  Heather exhaled and tapped the green phone icon on her screen. “Calm, Amy. Calm. We don’t know if there is a killer. This might just have been a terrible accident.”

  Amy didn’t reply, but she punctuated the rings on Heather’s phone with a few whimpers.

  “Shepherd,” Ryan said.

  “We’ve got a situation at Sarah Kenny’s house,” Heather said and glanced out at the small house. The woman who’d been there before had disappeared.

  “What’s up?”

  “Sarah Kenny’s dead,” Heather replied.

  Chapter 3

  Amy sat on a ladder backed chair in the living room and stared at the wall. She clutched her witch hat in her lap and crumpled the pointy end. Release, crumple, release. She didn’t take this kind of thing very well.

  Then again, who did?

  “Is she going to be all right?” Ryan Shepherd asked, and pointed with the end of his ballpoint.

  “She will be once I get a donut inside her,” Heather said, then pointed to the Choc Orange Glazes on the table. “She’s not used to this kind of thing. Not the hands on ‘dead body’ part, anyway.”

  “Right,” Ryan said. He tapped his pen against his notepad, then glanced around the room. “We’ve removed Sarah Kenny’s body from the premises, but everyone’s staying inside until they’ve been interviewed. It’s going to be a long night.” He glanced up at the chandelier and twitched his nose.

  “Oh my gosh,” Heather said and sprang to her feet. “Lilly! She’s alone at home!”

  “Relax,” Ryan said and chuckled. “I dropped her off at Eva’s. It’s still early, Heather. They’re watching Jurassic Park for some reason.”

  Heather couldn’t help but laugh at that. Lilly loved the movie, ever since they’d watched it
during one of their slumber parties.

  “Oh good,” Heather said.

  Ryan patted his wife on the back, then sat down on one of the chairs which lined the room. Heather followed his example and adjusted her witchy costume. “What do we know so far?” Heather asked.

  “Not much,” Ryan said. “They haven’t done an autopsy, yet, but there were signs of a struggle on the balcony and on the vic. Bruising around the neck area.”

  “Asphyxiation?”

  “Possibly,” Ryan said. “It’s too early to make those types of deductions.”

  Heather licked her lips and focused on the chandelier. “Possible crime of passion?”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, nothing,” Heather said, then paused. “Well, it might be something. Amy and I witnessed a fight just after we arrived. An argument, sorry.”

  “An argument between?”

  “Sarah Kenny and Georgia Summers,” Heather said.

  Ryan scratched the names onto his notepad. “Georgia Summers. Why does that name ring a bell?”

  “You’ll have heard about her. Big socialite in Hillside. She’s stinking rich, too. Wants to invest in a few of the businesses in town, from what I’ve heard,” Heather said.

  “Ah, it’s all coming back to me now. I’m sure one of our officers was called out to a complaint at the Summer’s residence recently. I’ll have to consider it,” Ryan replied.

  Heather nodded then opened her clutch and fiddled around inside it. She brought out a mint and popped it into her mouth. “They argued about Sarah Kenny’s husband,” she said.

  Ryan wrote that down too. “Anything else?”

  “Oh, and Georgia threatened her, sort of. Not a threat, but a promise to make the party livelier,” Heather said and glanced around the room.

  The guests had gathered in the massive living room and sat on the chairs pushed back against the wall. The speakers in the corners stood silent. A single streamer drifted from the ceiling and hit the lush, maroon carpet.

  “Which, now that I think of it, seems the opposite of the current situation,” Heather said and sucked her peppermint.

  Ryan sniffed. “Here we go again,” he said.