Coffee Treacle Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 24
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 shut her eyes and smiled at the chill breeze which tousled her hair.
Fall had arrived, and the brown-golden leaves crunched underfoot on the long tarmac drive which led to the Hillside Regional Emergency Room.
“Is there a reason we’re coming in through this entrance?” Amy asked, next to her.
Heather opened her eyes, then chuckled and touched Eva’s shoulder.
The elderly woman clasped a Donut Delights box between her withered hands and smiled up at Amy. “Yes, dear. These are the people who helped me during my little accident. They were the ones who kept me alive after I came out of the ambulance.”
“Oh,” Amy said, then sighed, weightily. “I didn’t realize.”
“No comeback, Ames? You’re off your game today,” Heather said.
“Hey, I’m working on it. I only had one cup of coffee this morning, you know,” Amy replied.
Heather clicked her tongue. “I expect better from my assistant and bestie in chief.”
The trio of women marched toward the glass sliding doors of the Emergency Room entrance. The week had started out great. Lilly loved school, and Ryan had had no new cases so far – always a good thing in the homicide department.
Heather stepped back, and Eva led the way into the hospital. She hurried toward the reception area, past a long row of empty chairs, then placed the box of donuts on the high, flat counter.
The woman behind the desk rose, and a broad smile parted her lips. “Again, Mrs. Schneider? You’re too sweet,” she said. Her name tag read ‘Shelly.'
“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, dear. A few donuts are the least I can do,” Eva said. “Oh no.” She pressed a finger to her lips. “I lie. It’s not me. It’s Heather Shepherd. She’s the one who’s paid for all these donuts from her fabulous store.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Shepherd,” Shelly said and bobbed her head toward the donut maker.
“Oh boy,” Heather said and fanned her cheeks. “You’re both making me blush. This gesture of kindness is all Eva. I assure you.”
“Yeah,” Amy said and popped the lid on her donut box. “Heather’s just footing the bill. And allowing me to steal one when no one’s looking.”
Heather stepped on the toe of Amy’s brown, suede boot. “Think again, Givens.”
“Fine, fine.” Amy shut the box and rolled her eyes. “But I’ve only had one donut this morning. It’s your fault if I’m grumpy.”
Shelly blinked at the exchange, opened her mouth, then shut it again.
“They’re like this most of the time, dear,” Eva said and checked her plum-colored hair do. “You get used to it after a while.”
“A long while,” Amy said, and placed her box of donuts next to Eva’s.
“This week’s donut is a specialty.” Heather couldn’t resist letting the receptionist in on the recipe, every time she came. “Mocha donuts baked in the oven until crisp dipped in a sticky treacle glaze and topped with light, whipped coffee cream.”
“Oh wow,” Shelly said and chewed on the end of her pen. “My whole mouth just filled with saliva.”
“You’re not the only one,” Amy replied, and folded her arms across her chest.
“You’d better call the rest of the nurses and doctors, dear.” Eva tapped the top of a Donut Delights box with her forefinger. “Before Amy steals them right out from under your nose.”
“I’ll do that,” Shelly said and picked up the receiver of her phone.
The doors to the emergency room slid open and a wall of sound burst through into the quiet space. Heather spun around. Eva’s jaw dropped, and Amy reeled.
A slew of medics rushed through the doors. They pushed a stretcher on wheels, and Shelly dropped the phone, immediately.
A nurse appeared at the end of the hall and rushed toward Hillside Regional’s newest patient. Heather could almost recreate Eva’s accident and admission to the hospital in her mind.
The orderly rushed to the side of the bed and grasped the railings. She bent over the patient, and the nearest medic relayed information in a garble of words and terms.
The rush of noise and the wheels on the linoleum traveled down the hall and out of sight.
“Heavens above,” Eva said and grasped the edge of the counter. Her fingertips had gone white from the pressure.
Heather hurried to the woman’s side and placed her arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, dear. Just fine,” Eva replied, then touched her fingers to her cheeks. “It’s just strange seeing that from the other side.”
Eva’s accident had happened months ago, but the memories – or lack thereof – lingered with her. She’d taken the knock on the head like a champ, and become stronger for it.
Amy took two steps forward, then paused. “I wonder what happened. I mean, it’s pretty quiet in here, today.”
“It’s normally quiet on a Tuesday,” Shelly said.
They all looked at her.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” the receptionist said and fumbled the phone back into place. “It’s just, our busiest times are usually on Mondays and weekends. During the week, it’s pretty quiet. Hillside’s small, too.”
Heather smiled at the shaky young woman, then pressed the donut box toward her. “Why don’t you have one?”
“Maybe I will,” she said.
Amy groaned and rubbed her belly. “I need to get back to the store before I keel over. This is too much excitement this early in the morning.”
“Yeah, we should probably get back,” Heather said. “Unless you want us to stay with you, Eva?”
“No, dear. I’m going to hang around with Shelly for a while. I’ll give you a call later,” Eva said, then waved them off. “Have fun!”
“Thanks,
Eva,” Heather replied.
They walked toward the door, and Amy looped her arm through Heather’s and grinned at her. But Heather couldn’t get the image of the stretcher out of her mind, nor the look of concern on the nurse’s face.
Chapter 2
Heather’s phone rang in her pocket, and she halted outside the front door of Donut Delights.
“Uh oh,” she said and wriggled it out into the open.
“What? Let me guess, it’s George Clooney calling.” Amy clasped her hands together and tilted her head to one side.
“You wish.”
“I really do,” Amy said, then flashed a grin. “Just kidding. He’s a married man now, you know.”
Heather waved off her bestie and focused on the screen of her phone, instead. Ryan’s number flashed at her, and her stomach tied itself in knots.
She swiped her thumb across the screen then pressed the phone to her ear. “Shepherd speaking,” she said.
“Hey, hon,” he replied. “I need your help on another case. Attempted murder. The victim is in the ICU at Hillside Regional.”
“Oh gosh. I had a feeling something like this would happen,” Heather said and rubbed her free hand along her forearm. “Where do you want to meet up?”
“Delightful Donuts,” Ryan replied.
Heather froze and shared a glance with Amy. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Ryan replied. “Looks like your buddy Geoff might’ve been involved. I can’t be certain yet, I just got here. Can you meet me?”
“Yeah. I’m on my way,” Heather said. She hung up, then slipped the cell back into her pocket.
Sunshine tickled her cheeks, but the temperature had dropped a little that morning. She tugged her coat tighter and wriggled her nose at Amy. “Can you look after the store for a while? Make sure Maricela doesn’t bonk anyone over the head with a rolling pin?”
“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” Amy said and saluted her. “But the minute you get back, you’d better tell me what’s happened.”
“I will,” Heather replied, and rushed back to her car. She unlocked the car door, then slid into the driver’s seat.
Geoff Lawless might’ve been involved? How could he be when he’d just been arrested for breaking into the police department?
Heather started the car and drove down the road. Delightful Donuts was on the other side of town, thankfully, but the morning traffic rush had already died down.
Five minutes later, Heather parked her car in front of the bakery behind Ryan’s police cruiser.
Already, the officers from Hillside PD had cordoned off the building.
Heather slipped out of her car and bumped the door closed with her hip. Ryan exited the front door of the store and waved her over.
“We’re gonna need all the help we can get on this one,” he called out.
Heather hurried toward her husband, and one of the officers pressed the yellow tape line down for her. She stepped over it, then strode along the pavement and up to the building.
Whatever Geoff had been up to the past few months, it hadn’t done his store any favors.
A thick layer of dust coated the window panes and a crack ran along the edge of the left window sill.
Heather stepped past her husband and into the interior, then pressed her fist to her nose to block a sneeze. It was just as dusty inside. Her mind flashed back to the day she’d found Jelly Polinski on the tiles in the store.
Her gaze skated along the floor, then toward the darkened doorway which led into the kitchen in the back. The tables and chairs had been pushed back to the walls, and the neon lights overhead flickered and ticked.
“So,” Ryan said.
“So,” Heather replied. “Where do we begin? You said the victim was in the hospital?”
“That’s correct. Guy by the name of Billy Bolde. We’re still getting information on the vic, but we’ve got a woman at the hospital who claims to be his wife.” Ryan checked his notes, then scratched the bridge of his nose. “Brooke Bolde.”
“I see,” Heather said. She studied the dust-coated tables and scuffed the heel of her flat biker boot on the tiles. “What happened to him? And why did it happen in here?”
“Now, that’s the kicker. Billy was hit over the head,” Ryan said, then marched to the counter at the back of the store. He snapped on a latex glove, then grappled with a container out of sight.
“What are you –?”
“With this.” Ryan lifted one of Geoff Lawless’ infamous rock hard fudge balls from behind the counter.
Heather inhaled, sharply. This wasn’t the first time one of those had been used as a murder weapon but in a very different way.
Geoff Lawless had created the fudge balls as a treat, but they’d ended up a total flop. Still, the man had become weirdly proud of the inedible treats.
“And to make matters worse, we can’t find Geoff anywhere,” Ryan said. “His house is empty. He doesn’t answer his phone and no one has seen him since he was released on bail.”
“Oh boy,” Heather said. “It’s not looking good for Geoff. But wait, did he even know the victim?”
“We’re not sure yet. But the tech boys found some surveillance footage in Geoff’s office. They’ve taken it back for analysis. As soon as I know, you’ll know.” Ryan put down the fudge ball, then snapped off the glove and placed it in his pants pocket.
“Curious,” Heather said. “This is the last thing I expected.”
“I know. Geoff is creepy, but he’s not the 'murder' type.” Ryan scratched his stubbly chin, and the noise rasped through the space between them. “But I’ve been wrong before.”
“I’ll have to find him and talk to him. The wife too,” Heather said.
“Definitely. Right now, we’re classing this as an attempted murder,” Ryan replied. “Billy Bolde is in a coma, so he’s not going to be giving up any information, anytime soon.”
“Where did the fudge ball hit him?” Heather shook her head at how ridiculous that sentence sounded. “Back of the head.”
“Uh-huh,” Ryan replied, then turned and gestured to the spot at the base of his skull. “Right about here.”
“Wow,” Heather said. “That’s a pretty specific area to hit someone.” She folded her arms across her chest and scanned the floor, the walls, the door – anything that might give her a clue to what’d happened in the store.
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Whoever did it wanted to make sure that Billy Bolde didn’t wake up to tell the tale.”
Heather bit her bottom lip and nodded. “I’ll take the case,” she said.
Chapter 3
The Bolde house stood in the seedier part of Hillside. The train tracks ran a line behind the house, a few yards from the back fence. Heather brushed off her jeans and glanced at Amy.
Her bestie clutched the end of Dave’s leash and glanced left, and then right. “I don’t like this, Heather,” she said, and her voice trembled.
“At least, it’s not a graveyard this time,” Heather replied.
A lid fell off a trash can and clanged to the sidewalk. They both jumped and looked back at a black cat, which curled around the base of the metal can.
“It’s almost as bad,” Amy whispered. “I mean, could this be any spookier?”
“You said you liked spooky Halloween stuff,” Heather replied.
“Yeah, like Halloween the celebration, not Halloween the movie. I feel like Michael Myers is waiting in there.” Amy nodded to the house and her bottom lip trembled.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Heather replied. She squared her shoulders, then marched up the cracked path and to the front door of the house. No porch. No stairs. Just a couple broken ornaments spread across the lawn.
Heather raised her fist and rapped on the door.
Amy and Dave toddled up behind her, then stopped. Dave sat on Amy’s foot and scratched underneath his collar. She didn’t boot him off, for once.
A few tense seconds passed and then the door creaked inward.
/> Amy shifted behind Heather and Dave let out a low growl.
A woman’s eye appeared in the crack between the edge of the door and the jamb. “May I help you?”
“Yeah, uh, are you Mrs. Brooke Bolde?” Heather asked.
The woman hesitated. “Who’s asking?”
“She is,” Amy said, and jerked her thumb toward her bestie.
“I’m Heather Shepherd,” she said and flinched forward a step. She couldn’t exactly shake the woman’s hand. “And this is my friend, and assistant, Amy Givens. We’ve come to talk to you about your husband.”
The woman’s eye glared at them. “Why?”
“I’m working in conjunction with the Hillside Police Department,” Heather said and flashed a grin. “I’m a private investigator.”
“You’re going to find out what happened to my husband?” Brooke’s tone dripped cynicism.
“Yes, ma’am,” Heather replied, and ignored the jibe. “Do you have a moment to talk to us?”
Brooke opened the door all the way, then reached up and patted her curlers. She adjusted her long nightgown, and Amy glanced up at the sky and tracked the sun.
It was almost noon.
“Sure,” Brooke said, “but we’ll have to talk right here because that dog ain’t coming in my house.”
Dave growled again – way to make the case, Dave – and Amy nudged him with the toe of her boot.
“That’s fine,” Heather said. “Mrs. Brooke, did you know of anyone who might’ve held a grudge against your husband?”
“Oh sure,” Brooke said, then waved her hand through the air. “Plenty of folks hate him.”
Heather blinked. Brooke didn’t seem too concerned about her husband. “They hate him?”
“That’s what happens when you’re mean and trick people out of their cash,” Brooke replied, then grasped the front of her nightgown and balled it up. “He stole and cheated and lied and –”
“Brooke,” a woman said, and squished in beside Mrs. Bolde at the door.
“Oh hey, Laura.” Brooke smiled, lazily. “This is my sister,” she said, to Heather and Amy. “She’s been staying here since Billy got smacked on the head.”
“Nice to meet you,” Heather said.