Oreo Sprinkled Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 22 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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  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 stood in front of the glass case in the Hillside Museum of Heritage and placed her hand on Lilly’s shoulder.

  “Is that it?” Lilly asked.

  “That’s it.”

  “It’s unbelievable,” Eva Schneider said and shuffled closer to their small group.

  Amy stifled a yawn and rapped on the glass with her knuckle. “It’s a hunk of metal, big deal. Stick a five-inch donut in there, and I might be impressed.” She shrugged.

  Lilly rolled her eyes at Heather’s bestie, then leaned closer to the display. “Well, I think it’s awesome. It’s pure gold?”

  Heather scanned the card attached to a small, Perspex stand in front of the case. “The Goose’s Egg. This five-inch nugget of gold was found in the South Bosque River and weighs in at approximately three pounds. It represents the last known, significant discovery of alluvial gold in the State of Texas.”

  Eva clasped her hands together. “What a wonderful piece of heritage for our town.”

  “Exactly,” Heather said, then smiled at the elderly woman. “Strange. It doesn't say when it was found. Or by whom.”

  “I bet it was one of those guys who goes out with the pan. You know, the pan they stick in the water?” Lilly asked. She was close enough to the glass case that her breath fogged up the view.

  “Like the Gold Rush show,” Amy said. “They have those huge machines that pump the water up, then sieve through all the mud and gunk.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean. But then they only get, like, a tube of gold chips or something. A tube. And that’s worth a lot of money,” Lilly said and swung around on the spot. She stared up at Heather. “I wonder what this one is worth?”

  Heather smiled at the newest addition to her family, then glanced around the display area.

  It was the perfect Sunday afternoon trip.

  Groups of Hillside residents wandered from display to display, but the Goose’s Egg definitely drew the most attention. Children gaped at the massive chunk of gold, which glimmered yellow beneath the display light.

  “Maybe we can find out,” Heather said.

  A man in a smart suit, he had to be about fifty years old, walked through the crowd. Pride beamed from his every movement. The name tag plastered to his suit read, Curator Henry Boddington.

  The Hillside Report had done a special on Mr. Boddington and his plans to open the museum – Hillside’s first of its nature. No wonder he was proud. This was a huge day for the town and a man of his stature.

  “I’ll be right back,” Heather said, then marched toward the man. She stopped in front of him and put up a smile. “Fantastic displays, Mr. Boddington.”

  “Thank you.” His baritone thrummed through the room. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended a hand.

  Heather took it and gave it a firm shake. “I’m Heather Shepherd. I wondered if you’d be able to answer a few questions about the Goose’s Egg.”

  “Ah,” he said, and swallowed, then swallowed again. Strange.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just fine, thank you.” He loosened his collar, then smiled. “The Goose’s Egg is our most popular display, as I’m sure you’ve notice. I’ve had ten people ask me about it.”

  “Well, I hope you won’t mind repeating yourself and eleventh time,” Heather replied, and chuckled.

  The curator laughed, then swallowed twice. “Of course not. I love educating people about this kind of thing. It’s part of the reason I decided to bring the Goose’s Egg to its area of origin. I was born in Hillside, you know.”

  “I didn’t,” Heather replied, then readjusted her tote bag on her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I left a long time ago, but it’s always been my life’s dream to source Hillside’s most precious treasures and return them to –”

  “Boddington!” A woman’s shriek cut their conversation in two.

  Heather jerked and glanced around.

  A young, attractive lady stormed toward them. Her fiery red hair flicked in the breeze created by her own movement.

  Henry Boddington’s body language changed, immediately. He shrank in on himself. Then massaged the tufts of hair at his temples. “Miss Hines.”

  “Boddington,” she repeated and stopped beside them. “You haven’t answered any of my calls.”

  “I’ve been busy,” he said, then gestured around the room at the cases. “As you can probably tell.” His words slurred together, and Heather frowned. What was that about?

  Miss Hines’ gaze danced around the area and rested on the Goose’s Egg. “So, I see. We had an appointment.”

  “We did not.”

  “We had an appointment,” she insisted, then narrowed her eyes at Heather. “Do you mind?”

  Heather swallowed a wry chuckle. “Do you mind? I was in the middle of a conversation with the curator before you rudely interrupted.”

  Hines raised an eyebrow. “And who are you, exactly?”

  “I’m Heather Shepherd,” she replied.

  The woman’s cheeks paled. “Oh. I didn’t know that. I – uh, I’m Sara Hines.”

  Sara Hines. Why did that name ring a bell? An alarm bell, at this rate. Heather couldn’t abide rude people.

  “Miss Hines,” the curator said, and his tone strengthened. “I am in the middle of something. Perhaps, we can schedule a discussion later on.”

  “Fine,” Hines snapped. “But don’t try to snake out of it this time. This is happening, Boddington. Whether you like it or not.” And with that, the redhead turned and stormed off toward the exit.

  She bashed people out of her way. Amy blinked at her then gestured for Heather to joi
n them.

  “Mr. Boddington, I –” Heather cut off. The curator had disappeared. A door at the far end of the room slammed shut behind him.

  Heather put her hands in her jean pockets and tilted her head to one side. “Strange,” she said, “very strange.”

  “Au-Heather,” Lilly called out. “Come take a look at this. It’s the fur of some kind of animal.”

  “Ew,” Amy said.

  Heather chewed the inside of her cheek and stared at the dark wood door. She shook her head, then turned back to the group. “An animal?”

  “Yeah, look at it,” Lilly said and pointed at the shaggy rug of fur hanging from the wall. “I wonder when it died.”

  Chapter 2

  Heather placed her fists on her hips and stared around the kitchen in Donut Delights. Her assistants stared right back. Amy and Maricela exchanged a grin, and Angelica giggled.

  Ken gave her a thumbs up, and Jung nodded, though his expression remained serious.

  A clock ticked on the wall. The sun hadn’t risen yet.

  “Everyone,” Heather said. “I’d like to introduce you to our newest assistant. Miss Emily Potts.” She gestured to the young woman beside her.

  Applause scattered through the space.

  Emily blushed and dabbed at her cheeks with her fingertips. “I – thank you,” she said, softly. “I hope I won’t disappoint.”

  “Not with our help,” Amy said, then crooked her finger at the newest addition to the Donut Delights team. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

  Emily hurried to the counter, and Amy handed her an apron, then helped her tie it on.

  “Emily’s just moved to Hillside. I’m sure you’d all like to get to know her better,” Heather said, then smiled at her assistants. “But we’ve got a big day ahead of us and lots of donuts to make, so I suggest you do it while we work. Got it?”

  “Got it,” the assistant’s chorused.

  “Got it,” Emily said, a second later.

  “Good.” Heather walked to the steel counters, then placed her palms flat on the cool surface. “This week’s donut is going to be –” she broke off to build the tension.

  Amy rubbed her palms together and leaned closer.

  “Oreo Sprinkled Donuts,” she announced.

  A rippled of approval traveled through the room.

  “I figured, it’s fall, Halloween’s just around the corner, and nothing brings more comfort than a cookie.”

  “Or a donut,” Amy said.

  “Precisely. So, we’ll make both. A combination, if you will,” Heather said. “The first thing we need to do is crumbled the Oreos for the topping and the center.”

  “They go in the donut too?” Maricela asked.

  “That’s right,” Heather replied. “We’re going to make a vanilla, choc swirl batter, deep fry it, double dip in a plain vanilla glaze and sprinkle crushed Oreo’s on top. Now, I want those Oreo’s on top to be soaked in a light syrup then dried out in the oven.”

  “Wow,” Emily said and tucked a strand of her mousy brown hair behind her ear. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “You ain't seen nothin’ yet,” Amy replied. “Wait until you taste the –”

  The front door of the door slammed, and the bell tinkled. Everyone in the kitchen froze. Amy snapped her mouth shut, then glanced around the room.

  All the people who were supposed to be inside Donut Delights were already there.

  Heather held up her palms to her assistants. “You guys wait here. I’ll check what’s going on.” She turned and hurried out of the swing doors.

  Heather stepped into her store.

  A man stood just inside the door. He looked left and right, then honed in on her. “Where is she?” He asked, and ran his greasy fingertips through even greasier hair. “Where is she?!”

  “I’m sorry,” Heather said, though she wasn’t at all. This guy should’ve been the one to apologize. “Who are you looking for?”

  The man’s left hand fidgeted. He raised it and rolled a marble between his fingertips. “She said she would be here.”

  “I want to help you,” Heather said and walked toward the glass counters of the store. She’d had an alarm installed, and the panic button had been placed right beside the register. Easy access for times like these. “You need to tell me who you’re looking for, or I won’t be able to.”

  “My sister,” the man spat, and saliva frothed from his thin lips. He had to be in his early twenties.

  “Your sister,” Heather repeated. She reached the counter, then walked behind it.

  The man’s gaze darted across her path and rested on the register.

  “What’s her name?” Heather asked.

  “Emily,” he replied.

  The kitchen doors swung outward, and Miss Potts rushed into the room. Her flat pumps slapped on the golden boards. “Joe, what are you doing here?” She hissed.

  Relief traveled through Heather’s core and settled behind her eyes. After weeks of strange murders and mysteries to solve, she’d expected the worst.

  She certainly didn’t need more stress. They were only in their second week after the grand re-opening of Donut Delights.

  “Emily,” Joe blustered. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I told you not to leave the house that early in the morning. I thought somebody got you.”

  “Jabby, keep your voice down, for heaven’s sake. It’s early in the morning.” Emily glanced back at Heather and pulled a face. “Mrs. Shepherd, I’m so, so sorry. Jabby doesn’t usually get up this early. He doesn’t –”

  “Don’t apologize for me, kiddo. I can speak to myself.”

  “To or for?” Heather asked.

  “Ah, a smart, old lady. Very funny,” Jabby Joe replied.

  Emily grasped her brother by the shoulders then spun him around to face the door. His skinny elbows jabbed out.

  “You need to leave. Now,” Emily said.

  “You didn’t make breakfast. Breakfast is your job.” Joe’s deep voice transformed into a whine. “I’m hungry.”

  “Buy something from the store. I’ll be home later.” Emily’s jaw clenched tight. She opened the front door. The bell tinkled, and then she shoved her brother out into the street. “Go home, Joe.”

  He narrowed his eyes at his sister, then turned and strode off into the night.

  Silence reigned in the donut store. Heather stared at the back of her newest assistant’s head.

  “Mrs. Shepherd –”

  “Call me Heather,” she replied.

  Emily turned and wrung her hands in front of her belly. “I’m so sorry about that. My brother, he’s got a bit of a mental problem. He’s not all there. He’s there sometimes, but other times he’s –”

  “It’s okay,” Heather replied, “I understand. Don’t worry about it.” She couldn’t judge the girl on her family.

  Lilly’s father had been a murderer, and she’d turned out to be a fantastic child.

  “Let’s just forget about this, and get back to work,” Heather said and smiled at Emily.

  The young woman heaved a sigh. “Thank you. Oh my gosh, thank you. I’ll – I’ll get right back in there. I hope you don’t think badly of me.”

  “Of course not,” Heather said. Her phone trilled to life and buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans.

  Heather reached around and fumbled past the strap of her apron, then brought it out. She studied the name on the screen. “I have to take this,” she said, to Emily.

  She answered the phone and pressed it to her ear. “Ryan?”

  “We’ve got a situation, Heather. I could use your help,” he said, in his gruff, investigator tone.

  Oh boy. Looked like this would be a week to remember.

  Chapter 3

  The sun had finally shown its glowing face, but the full glory of a new morning in Hillside was masked by the dusty window panes in the Hillside Museum of Heritage.

  “Do we have an approximate time of death, yet?” Heather as
ked.

  Ryan placed his hands on his hips and walked around the perimeter of the glass case. “Not yet.”

  Words failed Heather. This was… weird.

  Glass shards littered the floor. A piece had slipped onto the Perspex stand and lay just below the title, The Goose’s Egg. The gold nugget had been stolen, and the curator murdered.

  “What do we know?” Heather asked, and chewed her bottom lip.

  She should’ve been at Donut Delights, helping out her new assistant. No, no, Amy would be able to take the assistants through the Oreo Sprinkled recipe without a hassle.

  They’d practiced it the night before with Lils.

  Ryan paced around to the other side of the case, then pointed to the spray of glass on the floor. “We know the murderer was motivated by greed. And that he or she hit the glass on this side of the case with enough force to break it.”

  “Right,” Heather said and noted the direction of the spray. “Anything else?”

  “It looks like the curator was drugged.”

  “Drugged?” Poor Henry. The man had been on edge the previous afternoon. Especially, after Sara Hines’ little visit.

  Heather brought out her notepad and scribbled Sara’s name on one of the lines.

  “That’s right,” Ryan said and brought out his own notes. He flipped through them, then scratched his stubbly chin with his thumbnail. “We found empty bottles on the desk, but the labels had been ripped off.”

  Heather scribbled the word ‘doctor’ beneath Sara’s name, then tapped her pen on the page. “That’s weird.”

  “What?”

  “It just strikes me as a strange way to murder someone, especially in these circumstances.” Heather gestured to the case with her pen. “I mean; the thief is desperate. They want the Egg. They’re desperate enough to shatter a glass case and trigger an alarm, but happy to take their time drugging the curator? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Unless, the murderer drugged the curator first then decided to steal the Goose’s Egg on a whim,” Ryan replied.

  “But what was the initial motivation in that scenario?” Heather’s sleuthin’ senses itched and tingled. This didn’t feel right.