Pistachio Lemon Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery- Book 12 (Donut Hole Mystery) Read online

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  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 brushed off her palms on her Donut Delights apron, and then shifted the massive tub of confectioner’s sugar to the side of the kitchen counter.

  “You see,” she said, turning to Ken and Jung, who stood shoulder to shoulder, staring into the steel bowl before them. “We have to get the combination of sour and sweet just right, or the donut won’t taste as scrumptious as it should.”

  “But what if we get the measurements wrong? I mean, are there any real measurements for this?” Ken asked, taking a spoon from the counter and scooping up some of the glaze. He tasted it, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Jung dived for a spoon immediately.

  “I do this by taste and by eye because these are the first donuts my grandmother ever taught me how to bake. Pistachio Lemon Glazed donuts. I’ll never forget my first bite.” She shivered at the delicious memory. “But you’re going to want to do it by measurement at first,” Heather replied, and then clicked her fingers. “I’ve got my old recipe book in my office desk. I’ll go through and get it in a sec.”

  “I’ve never seen you use a recipe book before,” Jung said, around a mouthful of glaze. “Oh wow, this is so good it curls my toes.”

  “Yeah, I memorized all the recipes long ago, but it was my grandmother’s special book.” Everything in it had sentimental value. She hadn’t used a couple of the recipes yet, but with the looming news that a new donut store would open on the other side of town, the time might’ve arrived.

  “Those were the recipes that Christa woman stole, right?” Ken asked.

  Heather sniffed. “That’s right.” Christa’s murder and the recipe thievery wasn’t exactly her happiest memory. Heather shrugged and flashed her two assistants a smile. “I’ll get the book, and you two can print out the recipes.”

  “I have an even better idea,” Ken replied. “Why don’t we redo the recipe book? We could catalog the newest donuts you’ve created. I’ll take the pictures, and then you can sell it someday if you ever wanna do that?”

  Heather clapped her hands together and chuckled. Ken always had the best ideas. He’d already started taking photos for the new Donut Delights website, set to go live in a week.

  “I’ll be right back,” Heather said, cheerfully. She hurried out of the kitchen, pausing to wave at Eva at her favorite spot by the front window. Sunlight streamed through the front of the store, playing across the golden boards in Donut Delights, refracted by the spotless glass display counters beneath the cash registers.

  Rows upon rows of delectable treats waited there, and equally lengthy rows of customers lined up to purchase them.

  Heather spared a smile for her store, her little dream come true, then strode through to her office.

  She opened her bottom desk drawer, reached in and frowned. Her fingers scraped the wood base. “What the –?” Where was the recipe book? She’d definitely put it in her bottom drawer.

  She’d wanted to keep it close after what’d happened with Christa, so she’d moved it out of the kitchen and into the office.

  “Huh,” Heather said, “maybe I moved it.” She opened the middle drawer, then the top. A couple of papers and files peered up at her. Nothing else.

  Her grandmother’s recipe book, leather bound, worn and printed with gold lettering, had disappeared.

  Heather’s stomach sank. “Not again,” she muttered. “This can’t be happening.”

  She glanced around the office and lost her breath. The top window was ajar, and a warm summer breeze swept through, disturbing the pale, voluminous curtains.

  Heather pressed her lips together and wriggled her nose. Someone had stolen her recipe book for the second time. She hadn’t taken it home; she hadn’t moved it. The last time she’d opened that drawer had been weeks ago, to look up the American Dream donut recipe for Memorial Day.

  Heather lurched out of the office, grinding her teeth. She marched into the kitchen, startling Ken and Jung from their second helping of donut glaze.

  “It’s gone,” she pronounced. “The recipe book is gone, and I bet I know who stole it.”

  “Who?” Her assistants asked in unison, mouths forming perfect ‘o’s of surprise.

  “That new baker, the bouncer from Club Liquid. Geoff Lawless.” The news that he’d found a premises for his donut shop had broken shortly after the 4th of July celebrations.

  “Now that you mention it,” Ken said, “I did see him hanging around outside earlier. I was taking out the trash, and I saw him peering down the side alley at me.”

  “Ugh, unbelievable,” Heather said. “Well, I could teach you the basic measurements for the Pistachio Lemon Glazed’s, but that’s not the point. That book has value to me. I’ve got to get it back.”

  “What are you gonna do, boss?” Jung asked.

  “I’m going to go over there and get my book back,” she replied, raising her chin. “You guys stay here and work on the batter for the donuts. It’s a simple vanilla donut mix, you know the one, right?”

  “Right,” they replied, again, perfectly in time. That was what came from being best friends.

  “Good. I’ll be back in about a half hour,” Heather said. She turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen, determination grumbling in her gut. Though that might’ve been the prospect of the donuts – she hadn’t had breakfast yet.

  “Everything okay, boss?” Angelica called, from behind the counter.

  “It will be,” Heather replied, putting up her friendliest smile. She didn’t want to unsettle her customers or her staff. No way would she allow Geoff Lawless to get the better of her little donut shop.

  Heather was out the door and at her car, still with her sugar dusted apron tied in place, in a matter of minutes.

  “Here I come, Geoff, you’d better have a brilliant excuse,” Heather murmured, to herself. She was on the case and this time, it was personal.

  Chapter 2

  Geoff Lawless’ new donut shop already had a sign above the door.

  “Delightful Donuts?! Seriously?” Heather asked, shaking her head and staring at the magenta, curling sign pasted against the bricks. “First, he steals my recipe book, now he’s copying my store’s name. Wow.”

  That was all she could say. She wasn’t even mad. She was disappointed. Geoff could’ve done better than that.

  Heather opened her car door, got out and used her hip to bump it closed.

  Delightful Donuts was silent, the shop windows stared at her accusingly, as if she was a trespasser. Lace curtains covered the bottom panes of the windows, and a quaint wooden door served as the entrance.

  Heather squared her shoulders and marched up to it. She raised her fist and rapped her knuckles on the wood, three times in rapid succession.

  “Geoff? Are you in there?” She called out, then rolled her eyes. The last time she’d ‘spoken’ to Geoff he
’d hardly said two words. What were the odds he’d reply this time around?

  Heather chewed the inside of her cheek and listened for noise. Nope, no footsteps or shuffling around. She cupped her hands over her eyes and peered through the window.

  She couldn’t make out much – thanks to the thick layer of dust on the panes – except for a rickety table and matching chairs. Oh, and a light shone in the kitchen, illuminating a set of steel counters and a large, black oven.

  Heather wriggled her nose. Someone had to be in there, otherwise, why would the light be on?

  She knocked once more, then shrugged and tried the bronze door handle. It clunked down, and the door creaked open.

  “That’s not creepy at all,” she said, softly.

  Heather placed the flat of her palm against the wood and pushed gently, opening it up all the way.

  She stepped inside, blinking at the sudden change of light. She scanned the room, the dust, and disorganization, gaze sinking to the worn boards. Her insides turned icy cold.

  “No,” she whispered.

  A woman was sprawled on the floor, face down, her long blonde hair spread across her back.

  “No, no. Are you okay?” Heather asked. She hurried forward, dropped to her knees and checked for a pulse. This wasn’t the first person she’d found knocked out – the same had happened to Kent, Amy’s boyfriend.

  Heather’s fingers fumbled against flesh, and the woman’s skin was cool to the touch. She didn’t have a pulse.

  Heather hopped back a step and whipped her smartphone out of her pocket. She dialed her husband’s number immediately.

  “Hey, honey. I’m glad you called,” he said.

  “There’s been a murder,” Heather said. “I’m at Geoff Lawless’ new store. Come quickly. Send and ambulance, just in case.” And then she hung up. Ryan wouldn’t be upset. He’d understand.

  Heather backtracked towards the door, heart pounding in her chest.

  Pots and pans clattered in the kitchen, followed by the slam of a door. Heavy footsteps echoed on the tiles, and Geoff Lawless stormed out of the kitchen.

  “What are you doing in my –?” He caught sight of the woman on the boards, and he lost his breath. “Jelly?” He whispered.

  “Don’t touch her,” Heather said. “The police are on their way.”

  “What did you do to her?” Geoff demanded.

  And sirens cut across his semi-accusations, quiet but getting louder by the second.

  “Me?! Nothing. I did nothing. What did you do to her?” Heather growled. “She’s on the floor in your shop.”

  Geoff gulped big mouthfuls of air. “Is she… I mean, is she, uh?” He couldn’t form the horrible truth on the tip of his tongue.

  Heather nodded once. “It looks that way.” She was used to solving murders through a lens of intrigue and distance. This had brought everything back into perspective. “We’ll know for certain when the ambulance gets here.”

  “Shouldn’t we try to help her?”

  “Never move an injured person. Even if she isn’t, you know, even if she’s not –”

  “Okay, okay,” he replied, and waved his massive hands at Heather. The past few sentences were the most she’d heard from him since they’d met.

  Geoff descended into silence, staring at the woman on the floor. He’d called her Jelly.

  Wait, the clerk at the local bait and tackle shop had the same name, didn’t she?

  Heather opened her mouth to ask about it, then snapped it shut again.

  Ryan’s cruiser pulled up outside, and he jumped out of the car, armed and dangerous. He rushed into the store and aimed the weapon at Geoff, who immediately put his hands up.

  “I didn’t do it,” Geoff said. “Whatever it is.”

  Ryan glanced at Heather, then lowered the weapon slowly. “I’m going to have to ask both of you to step outside. Walk around this side,” he said, gesturing to Geoff. “Yeah, that’s right. Out front. I’ll be out in a minute to talk to you both.”

  Heather swallowed her nerves at seeing Ryan in work mode. He impressed her, even scared her a little, but in a good way. He was the law, and they would obey.

  She hurried outside, just as two more cop cars pulled up and parked, lights flashing. Officers got out, adjusted their belts and exchanged glances. Then came the ambulance. Men and women with stretchers went into the shop and came out, carrying the stretcher, a sheet pulled across the woman atop it.

  Geoff hung his head.

  Heather shook hers. For a second, they were united by this horrible sense of wrongness.

  Minutes passed, stretching into eternity, and Ryan came out at last. He drew her aside gently. Another officer already had Geoff Lawless in his grips.

  “Who was it?” Heather asked, immediately. “Who was she?”

  “Jelly Polinski. Worked for the local bait and tackle store.”

  “How?”

  “Asphyxiation it looks like. Fishing line. And that’s not all,” he said, pursing his lips and searching her face, gaze flicking up, down, side-to-side, taking her in.

  “What is it?” Heather asked.

  “She had your grandmother’s recipe book, Heather.”

  Chapter 3

  Heather yawned and shoved her fist in front of her mouth to block it. She’d hardly slept a wink the night before. The image of Jelly Polinski on the floor in Delightful Donuts – man, she despised thinking that name – had appeared in her dreams several times.

  “Hey you,” Amy said, popping up in front of the counter at Donut Delights. “Yeah, you. Why haven’t you brought me my Lemon Nut Donut thingy yet?”

  “Pistachio Lemon Glazed Donut,” Heather corrected, and chuckled. But her chuckle turned into another massive yawn. “And it’s because I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  “Dreams?” Amy asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied.

  Heather had called Amy the night before and told her the details. Jelly Polinksi was dead, and Heather was a suspect thanks to the old recipe book which had been found tucked beneath her body.

  “Maybe we should get out of here. I’ll take you home and make you a cup of tea, and you can nod off on the sofa while we watch –”

  “If you say Beaches I might just throw up.”

  “I wasn’t going to say Beaches,” Amy said, and her cheeks colored, giving away the lie. She circled the counter and grasped Heather by the arms. “You realize that you poured Eva two cups of coffee?”

  “What?” Heather asked, and frowned. She glanced over at her favorite customer and blinked at the two steaming mugs of coffee on the table in front of the old lady. “How did that happen?”

  “Well, you poured her one, put it down, and then came back two minutes later with another. You’re so tired you don’t know what you’re doing.” Amy dragged her back towards the office. “Let Angelica handle the front for a while before you serve someone an emulsified donut instead of a milkshake.”

  “I’m not that far gone yet,” Heather replied, but she gave in grudgingly and let Amy walk her into the office.

  She sat down in her comfy office chair and closed her eyes for a second. “I just don’t understand it,” she whispered. “Why would Jelly steal my recipe book? Why?”

  “Maybe she did it for Geoff,” Amy said.

  Heather opened her eyes and studied her friend over her desk. “I’m not getting involved in this one, Ames. I’m a suspect. Investigating will totally jeopardize me, Donut Delights, and my future as a sort of P.I.”

  “You say that, but I can tell you’re itching to brainstorm about it.”

  Heather shrugged. “Geoff seemed shocked to see her there, is all.”

  “He could’ve been faking,” Amy hissed. “He wasn’t the nicest guy around. Remember that night at Club Liquid? Kinda surly and mean.”

  “Yeah, but, ugh, it was just this feeling I got from him. He hated seeing Jelly like that, and that means something.” Heather sighed and placed her palms on top of her desk. “I can’t
think about that right now. At least, I managed to teach my assistants how to make the newest donuts.”

  “You got the recipe book back?”

  “No, that’s evidence. I won’t get it back until after the murderer is back behind bars. Pain in the neck, I’ll tell ya, but what can I do?”

  “You could investigate,” Amy said, ever the devil’s advocate.

  “No, I could stay out of it and keep my nose clean and wait for justice to take its course,” Heather said, but already the steady itch of intrigue had taken up residence in her mind.

  A knock interrupted her thoughts.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Ken opened the door and peeked his head around it. “Am I interrupting?” He asked.

  “No, that’s all right,” Heather said, grasping the arms of her chair and forcing herself to stand. “What’s wrong? Is there a problem in the kitchen?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s just,” he said, glancing at Amy then back at Heather. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind himself, then leaned against it. “I thought you should know that I saw Jelly Polinski yesterday morning, early.”

  “Oh?” Heather tucked her hands behind her back and crossed her fingers. Ken might be about to give her a snippet of information she shouldn’t have. But then, what harm was there in information?

  Ken rubbed his palms together. “I had to stop by the bait and tackle shop, early the other morning, and I walked in on Jelly in the middle of an argument.”

  “With who?” Amy asked.

  “Her father, Pops,” he replied, meeting Amy’s gaze for a moment before returning his focus to Heather. “They were screaming at each other in full view of the other customers. The tourists in there got quite a shock, I’ll tell you that much.”

  Heather tapped her bottom lip with her thumb, then yawned reflexively and covered her mouth just in time. “What were they fighting about?”

  “Something about tackle or oil? I’m not sure. I just got outta there as soon as I could.” Ken scratched the back of his neck. “I figured you’d want to hear about it since you found her yesterday.”