Raspberry Coulis Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy - Book 38 (Donut Hole Cozy Mystery) 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 2017 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

  “I’ve got bad news.” Amy unzipped her coat and fumbled it off. She tossed it onto the stool behind the counter in Donut Delights.

  “Oh boy,” Heather replied, and slammed the register’s drawer shut. The machine gave a ting. “What kind of bad news? Missing coconut bad news or I Dave peed on your white carpets bad news?”

  “Oh please, those carpets ceased to be white ages ago,” Amy replied. She marched to the newspaper and magazine stand beside the counter and snatched a copy of the Hillside Reporter off the top rack.

  Heather had installed the new fixture on the weekend, since it’d make life for Eva easier, and she’d noticed a lot of her Donut Delights customers enjoyed reading up on current events.

  Or the best way to work off donut weight. Five healthy tips to combat a high-carb diet.

  Amy walked back to Heather and clutched the folded paper to her chest. “I’m not even sure I should show you this, but I know Eva’s going to bring it up later.”

  “Goodness, what is it? You’re making me nervous.” The work day hadn’t started yet, but the Hillside dawn had already broken. Yellow sunlight arced through the street outside and glimmered off the condensation on a car parked across the road.

  Ames sighed and flipped the newspaper open. “Okay, so remember how they’re calling you the Private Eye?”

  “Yes, I do, dear Gal Pal,” Heather said.

  “Don’t get me started.” Amy laid the paper flat on the counter and pointed at a feature piece spread across the center pages.

  Heather’s image peered up at them in black and white. She stood in front of Donut Delights in her apron, a proud grin on her face.

  Except, the article headline wasn’t about the bakery.

  “What on earth is this?”

  Amy fingered the words in bold print. “Heather Shepherd, detective or vigilante?”

  “I see that,” she said, and leaned in to read. “Heather Shepherd has long been considered one of Hillside’s sweethearts, but an inside source tells this reporter that Mrs. Shepherd’s unorthodox methods have threatened numerous lives and businesses.”

  The kitchen doors swung outward and Ken stepped into the room, a tray laden with this week’s special donut in his hands. “Is everything all right?” He asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Heather said, and scanned the rest of newspaper. A few phrases jumped out at her, namely ‘irresponsible’ and ‘out of control.’ “Oh boy. Who would write this?”

  Ken slid the glass door of the counter open, then eased the tray of donuts into its spot. The fruity scent of raspberries drifted up to Heather’s nose, but she couldn’t appreciate it.

  “A vigilante?” She asked, and met her bestie’s gaze. “They make me sound like Batman.”

  “You wish,” Amy said.

  “What is this?” Ken dusted his hands off on his apron and read over Heather’s shoulder. “Whoa. Somebody doesn’t like you, boss. This guy called you a ‘wannabe Sherlock Holmes.’ That’s a little harsh.”

  Heather blinked. Her investigations had been out of line in the beginning of her sleuthin’ career, but she’d done nothing but worked with the Hillside police for months, now.

  Even the Captain thought she had style, for heaven’s sake.

  “Boss, don’t worry about this,” Ken said, and patted her on the back. “This is just some sour guy who’s jealous of you. I mean, take a look at his name.” He tapped the byline.

  “Kelly Lemon,” Heather said.

  “Wait a second,” Amy whispered. “Wait one hot donut-lickin’ second. That’s the investigator guy. The dude from your last case. Uh, he was the private eye who came to Hillside to help out Camilla.”

  “Looks like he never left,” Ken said. “Don’t worry about this, boss. Everyone in Hillside knows the real you. They know better than to listen to the Hillside Reporter. It’s a trash newspaper. A tabloid.”

  “Thanks,” Heather replied, though a puddle of guilt sat in the bottom of her stomach. She grabbed the newspaper and folded it down the middle then handed it back to Ames. “I think it’s best we put this behind us and focus on making some great donuts today. There are bound to be loads of hungry customers.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Amy said. “I’ll beat Lemon over the head with a copy of the Reporter later. For now, we’ll bake. Coffee?”

  “Please,” Heather said.

  Ken shut the back of the glass counter and hurried back to the kitchen to fetch more treats.

  “Are you all right?” Amy asked, and punched buttons on the coffee machine. She clanked the cups around on the grate.

  “Oh fine,” Heather said. “I’m not worried about what a newspaper says about me as long as it doesn’t affect the store. Or my family and friends. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “People talk about you behind your back,” Amy said.

  “Truly terrifying,” Heather replied, and bent to admire her newest creation. “But I’m fairly certain they do that already.” Hillside’s small town habits hadn’t waned with the arrival of newcomers and tourists.

  “What’s the special donut today?” Amy asked.

  “The Raspberry Coulis Donut,” Heather said, and accepted a cup of steaming hot coffee from her bestie. “Another vanilla batter, deep fried until crisp, injected with raspberry jelly and coated in a light raspberry glaze. Topped with vanilla sprinkles.”

  “Oh wow,” Amy said. “My whole mouth just filled with saliva. Sounds a little sweet, though.”

  “A little sweet for you? Doubtful,” Heather replied, and took a sip of her coffee. She winked at Ames. “A dash of vinegar to add that tart flavor to the jelly and we’re good to go. Ken and Jung came in early to learn the recipe, so they’ll tea
ch you once you get back there.”

  “I can’t wait,” Amy said. She cleared her throat and glanced at the front door of the store. “So, I, uh – Heather?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Could we go to lunch today? I’ve got something I wanted to ask you and I don’t want to do it during work hours.” Two pink spots appeared on the apples of Amy’s cheeks.

  Goodness, what could the question be? “Of course,” Heather said. “Let’s do that new pizzeria down the street. The one that replaced Randy’s Burger Bar?”

  “Bella Vita.”

  “That’s the one. I hear it’s great.” Heather offered her bestie a smile of encouragement, but Amy’s blush didn’t fail.

  This was bound to be an interesting day.

  Chapter 2

  Heather squished into her seat in front of the melamine table and blinked in the dim light in the pizzeria.

  Bella Vita had a rustic vibe, with wood paneled walls and antique pictures in gilt frames. It was a strange mix of old school Italian and walk-in diner.

  Amy sat down opposite Heather and the plastic-covered booth seat squeaked. “Here we are,” she said, and wiped sweat from her brow. “Gosh, what a morning. I’ve never seen donuts fly out of the oven and into mouths that fast.”

  “Business has certainly picked up,” Heather replied, and tapped her nails on the table. The waiter hadn’t approached them yet, though he stood behind the bar in the corner.

  Amy sighed and balanced her chin in her palm. “I’m exhausted. I was up late last night studying. I’ve got another one of those tests this week.”

  “For your Private Investigator license?” Heather asked. Of course, what else would it be for? Amy had been hard at work these past weeks, determined to join Heather as an assistant on crime scenes.

  “Yeah,” she said, and stifled a yawn. “I want to get this done fast. I mean, the faster, the better. Cases seem to be pouring in of late.”

  “It’s all the development,” Heather said, and nodded toward the interior of the restaurant. “We’ve got so many newcomers, I can’t keep track. Remember the good ol’ days when Geoff Lawless was our biggest problem?”

  “That was like three months ago,” Ames said.

  “Still. I miss the old kook. I should take Dave and Cupcake down to his grooming parlor sometime soon.” Heather shifted her tote bag on the seat beside her, then flipped it open and brought out her phone. She wiggled it at Amy. “Just in case.”

  “Ryan hasn’t dropped a new case on you this week?”

  “It’s still Monday,” Heather replied. “Give it a day and I’m sure he’ll have something for me to investigate.”

  “Welcome to Bella Vita!” The waiter’s voice cut right across Heather’s sentence.

  Both women jumped and turned wide-eyed stares on him.

  “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s uh, it’s my first two weeks on the job. I’m still learning how to be a server,” the waiter said. The silver name badge pinned to his checked shirt read Charlie.

  Amy grunted – sour without the sleep.

  “That’s all right, Charlie,” Heather said.

  “How did you know my –?” He looked down at his name badge and turned red as a raspberry. “Oh. Of course. Right, so, may I help you ladies? Get you something to drink?”

  “I’ll take a milkshake if you have them,” Heather said. “Chocolate.”

  “And for you, ma’am?” Charlie asked, and his round framed glasses slid down his crooked nose. “Anything to drink?”

  “I’ll take an iced coffee shake,” she said. “Just to mix things up a bit.”

  “Coming right up!” The waiter said. He marched toward the computer in the corner, then jumped. He hurried back to them. “Sorry. I forgot to give you these.” He swept two menus out from underneath his arm and plonked them on the table.

  Finally, waiter Charlie wandered off to get their drinks order.

  “Nice kid,” Amy said, in a monotone.

  “You’re just grumpy because you’re tired,” Heather said. “He’s not so bad.”

  “There’d better be a double shot of espresso in that shake, otherwise heads are going to roll.”

  “Not your most appropriate joke,” Heather said.

  “Who said I was joking?” Amy wriggled her eyebrows in their infamous ‘wicked’ dance.

  Heather picked up one of the menus and propped it against the table. Ooh, they made a seafood pizza. Ryan would probably turn his nose up to that. He maintained fish and cheese didn’t mix, and no amount of lobster mac n’ cheese would change his mind.

  “So, remember I said I needed to talk to you about something?” Amy asked.

  Heather looked up at her best friend. “Yeah. What’s up? Is everything all right? You’d better not drop a bombshell on me, Givens. I’ve had enough trouble for one week and it’s only one o’ clock on a Monday.”

  “Nothing like that,” Ames said, and shifted her menu back and forth. It clinked against the plastic vase in the center of the table.

  “Then what is it?” Heather’s curiosity reached its peak.

  “I wanted to ask if it’d be okay if we went on a double date,” Amy said.

  Heather parted her lips and exhaled. She placed her menu on the chair beside her. “Listen, Amy, I think you’re great. But I’m married.”

  “Shut up.” Amy burst out laughing and the tension between them shattered. “I’m serious. I was thinking maybe Wednesday night?”

  “You’re sure about this?” Heather asked. Amy had just officially introduced Jamie to them as her boyfriend. She’d been secretive about her love life after what’d happened with her ex.

  “I’m sure,” Amy said, and set her jaw. “He’s a great guy and I’d love it if you two got to know him a little better.”

  “Then we’re in. I mean, I’ll have to check with Ryan first to make sure he doesn’t have a shift that night,” Heather said, “but otherwise, absolutely. We’re in.”

  Amy’s flush sprang from pleasure this time. She smacked her lips. “Gosh, I could use that drink, right about now.”

  Heather turned in her seat and caught the waiter’s eye. He hurried out from behind the bar, gave them both a thumb’s up, then disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Well,” Amy said, “that cuts his –”

  A scream pierced the air.

  Heather’s fingers clamped down on the back of the booth. She rose to her knees. “That came from the kitchen.”

  “W-what on earth –?”

  The kitchen’s swinging doors crashed open and waiter Charlie stumbled into the restaurant proper, trembling and pale-faced.

  “What’s wrong?” Heather asked, and slipped out of her chair. The same numb certainty which hit her whenever Ryan called sat in her stomach. “Charlie?”

  The waiter collapsed into a nearby booth, his head in his hands. He retched and swallowed.

  Heather glanced back at Ames. “Stay here,” she whispered.

  “Don’t have to tell me twice,” Amy replied, also white as a sheet of freshly made fondant.

  Heather hurried to Charlie’s side, and caught a glimpse of a pool of red through the swinging kitchen doors. They flapped opened again and revealed another sliver of the scene within – a pair of men’s shoes.

  She couldn’t see the rest of the body. That was what it had to be. A body.

  Heather dropped into a crouch beside Charlie. “What happened?” She asked.

  “Chef Guidi,” Charlie whimpered. “H – he’s dead. Stabbed.”

  Heather’s quiet week had ended before it’d begun.

  Chapter 3

  Charlie sat in Amy’s seat at the table and slurped on the end of a red and white striped straw. The chocolate milkshake – Heather’s – traveled up and into his mouth. Hopefully, the sugar helped with the shock.

  Ames had left for Donut Delights the minute Ryan and the coroner had showed up. She’d never been great with crime scenes or blood.

  And boy,
did a stabbing cause a lot of blood.

  Heather shuddered and pushed thoughts of that from her mind.

  Men and women kitted out in full protective gear padded in and out of the restaurant. A group had already entered the kitchen to deal with the physical and trace evidence, along with Ryan, who’d donned the same strange outfit for the investigation.

  Charlie slurped on, wide-eyed, but with color in his cheeks, at last.

  “Are you all right?” Heather asked. A stupid question at this point, but she had to open up the conversation somehow. Charlie was their only witness.

  Ryan hadn’t even had to ask her to interview him. He’d simply raised an eyebrow at her.

  Charlie nodded and put down his milkshake. “It’s just so strange,” he said. “I went in their five minutes before he died to tell him to make the drinks order and he was fine.”

  “Fine,” Heather said.

  “Yeah. Relatively speaking,” Charlie said.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He wasn’t alone in there,” the waiter said, and picked up a paper napkin from the dispenser. He dabbed his forehead, then balled it up and wiped the tip of his nose. “His wife was there too.”

  “And this was five minutes before you came across his body,” Heather said.

  “Yes,” Charlie replied. “Oh gosh, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. Mrs. Guidi’s always been so nice to me. She’s –”

  “Charlie,” Heather said, and patted him on the arm to soothe him. “Listen to me, no one’s in trouble yet. Just relax and tell me what you saw. It’s very important that we find out who killed Mr. Guidi.”

  The waiter gulped and bobbed his head up and down. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

  “Great.” Heather reached into her tote and brought out her tablet. She clicked the button on its side, then opened up her Evernote App. “Now, let’s start from the beginning. You went in to give the chef our order.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie said. “I went in with the order, but Chef was in the middle of a conversation with Carla.”

  “Carla Guidi,” Heather said, and typed the name on her screen.

  “She’s great. Well, she’s great with me. When I came in she was screaming at Chef,” Charlie said, and sniffed. “And nobody, I mean nobody, screams at Chef. He’s the type of guy who doesn’t take that kind of thing.”