Cadbury Creme Murder (2 page)

The
clock on her car’s dashboard read 3:42 as Heather drove through darkened
streets toward Donut Delights.  After her divorce from ex-husband Don six years
ago, she had left New York City, which she’d never liked anyway, and returned
to her roots in Hillside, Texas.

With
the money she’d received in the divorce settlement, she rented space in the
building her shop now occupied, purchased equipment, and set up for business. 
It had always been her dream to own her own business, and having that dream
become reality in her hometown was especially meaningful to her.

Even
though she was the owner of Donut Delights, with three employees, she worked
every day, with only rare exceptions.  She loved adapting some of her late
grandmother’s recipes and turning them into reality in the form of gourmet
donuts; she loved interacting with her customers; and she loved having
something to do that made her feel productive.  Made her feel like she was
making her own corner of the world a little tastier and a little better.

Not
that she usually came to work before 4:00 in the morning.  Being the owner did
have some advantages, after all.  But that morning, still lying in bed, she had
suddenly realized she was wide awake.  After trying to sleep for a few more
minutes, she gave up.  Glancing over to see the numerals on her digital clock
glowing 3:12, she decided to go to work and threw back the covers.

Maricela,
her cousin, Angelica, and Jung, a Korean man, would already be at work.  They
arrived at 3 to begin preparations for serving the customers who would begin
arriving as soon as the shop opened at 5.  They made dough, baked or deep-fried
donuts, prepared fillings, iced the tasty confections, and placed them all on
display in glass counters.

Maybe
they can use some help this morning, Heather thought.  Maybe I’ll make a new
kind of donut.  Take my mind off Verna and how she died.

When
Heather had checked her phone first thing that morning, there had been no
message from Ryan with any updates.  At 3:00 in the morning, she knew he’d
either be very busy with work, or fast asleep.  She’d call him later, if he
didn’t call her first.

With
a smile, she pulled into her usual parking space in back of Donut Delights—the
place where she’d first met Ryan, when he came to talk to her about the death
of a former employee, Christa Fordyce.  At first, she’d found him arrogant and
rude.  Later, as their relationship developed, she’d seen his much softer
side—the side that still mourned the death of his wife, on some level.  The
side that made him own a cat instead of a pit bull or something.

Heather
entered her shop through the back door, directly into the kitchen.  Maricela
and Angelica turned to stare at her, their mouths open.  “Why you here so
early?” Angelica asked.

“Couldn’t
sleep,” she said, tossing her purse through the door of her office onto her
desk.

Her
third employee, Jung, stuck his head out of the storeroom.  “You’re the boss. 
You’re not supposed to be here early.”

She
shrugged.  “Well, here I am, and ready to make a brand new donut.”

“What’s
it called?” Jung asked.

“State
Fair,” she said.  “Deep-fried donut base, plenty of powdered sugar, and cotton
candy on top.”

“Wow,
cotton candy.  Where are we going to get cotton candy?”

“You’ll
see,” she said.  “It’s actually not that hard to make.”  She tied an apron
around herself, twisted her long hair up under a hair net, and slipped on some
thin, polyethylene gloves.  “Who wants to help me?”

***

The
State Fair donuts were a huge hit.  Even though the actual Texas State Fair was
months away, anything deep-fried was guaranteed to be highly popular year
round.  Heather slipped a full tray of donuts into the glass case where the
previous tray had been sold out and looked up to see Eva coming through the
front door, her usual smile absent from her friendly, lined face.

“Eva?”
Heather asked.

Eva
tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate.  And were those tears filling
her eyes?”

“Eva,
come on back here,” Heather said, putting an arm around the elderly woman’s
shoulders and leading her around the counter into the prep area.  “Let’s go in
my office.”

Eva
allowed herself to be led to a chair.  Heather tried to offer her the desk
chair, but Eva insisted on taking the smaller, slightly less comfortable
visitor’s chair.

“What’s
the matter, Eva?” Heather asked, leaning towards her regular customer.

“Did
you hear about Verna Dixon?” Eva asked.

“Yes,
I did,” Heather said.  “I heard last night.  Did you know her well?”

“Very
well,” Eva said.  “We were BFF’s, as the young people say nowadays.”

“I’m
sorry for your loss,” Heather murmured.

“I
just can’t believe it!  Why would anybody want to shoot Verna?”

“I
don’t have any idea,” Heather said.  “I’d met her a few times, but I didn’t
know her very well.”

Eva’s
voice became firm.  “I can tell you that she was just as sweet as she seemed to
be,” she said.  “Volunteered at the hospital and the local hospice
organization.  Never had an unkind word for anybody.”

Heather
nodded, not sure what else to say.  But Eva continued.  “I’m here for a reason
this morning,” she said in that same determined voice.  “And it’s not just for
your wonderful donuts.  I need to ask you a favor.”

“What
can I do for you?” Heather asked.

“I
want you to figure out who killed Verna,” Eva said flatly.

“What? 
Me?  Why?”

“You’re
a smart, capable young woman.  You investigated your former assistant’s murder
and the murder of the man who owned that other donut shop.”

“Whoa,”
Heather said, holding up a hand in a ‘stop’ signal.  “I didn’t really
investigate.  The police did that.”

“You
helped,” Eva said.  “You can be modest all you like, but it’s true.  Plus, you
have an ‘in’ with the police through your boyfriend.  You can help.”

“I
really don’t know,” she demurred.  “It’s better to leave investigating to the
police.”

“Not
always,” Eva said.  “Sometimes, they need a little help.”

“What
would you want me to do, exactly?” she hedged.

“Just
look into things.  Talk to people.  Do whatever it is you do to get to the
bottom of things.”

Heather
stared at a pen that lay on her desk.  She picked it up and clicked the
ballpoint on and off.  “Eva…” she began.

When
Eva didn’t answer, Heather glanced at her.  Eva sat straight up in her chair, a
sad smile turning up the corners of her lips.  “It’s okay,” she said.  “I can
understand why you might feel reluctant about getting involved in another
murder investigation.  I understand.”  She stood up.  “Thank you for
considering it.  I believe I’ll go have my donuts now.”

Heather
sighed.  “Eva, please stay,” she said.  “Why don’t you tell me more about
Verna.  If I’m going to have anything to do with this, I need to know more about
her.  What was going on in her life recently?  Was she upset about anything?”

“Well,
there was something,” Eva said.  “But I don’t know what it was.  She told me it
was keeping her up at night.  She said she had a decision to make.  But she
wouldn’t even tell me.  At least, not then.  She said I’d find out someday.”

“And
you don’t have any idea what she was referring to?”

“No
idea at all.”

“Other
than that, she seemed happy?”

“As
far as I could tell.  And I think I would have known if something were going
on.  I would have sensed it.”

“How
long had you known Verna?”

“45
years.”

“That’s
a long time.”

“Yes,
it is.  And now, she’s gone.  I can’t imagine my life without her.”  Tears spilled
from Eva’s eyes, and she bowed her head.

Heather
handed her a Kleenex from the box on her desk.  But when Eva’s shoulders
continued to shake with silent sobs, Heather knelt in front of her and embraced
her.

***

How
in the world did I get myself into this? Heather wondered later as she sat in
her office, staring at the sheet of paper on which she’d made notes. 

She
knew the answer to her question.  If Eva believed Verna’s death should be
looked into, then somehow, she believed it too.  Eva might be a petite, elderly
lady, but her mind was as sharp as anyone’s.  She’d never revealed much about
herself in all the times she’d come to Donut Delights, other than that she’d
been married to her husband, with whom she was very much in love, for 52 years,
but Heather could tell that she possessed a wisdom and depth born of life
experiences.

So
if Eva wanted her to look into it, she’d do it.  Not to mention the dream she’d
had last night about Verna begging her to help.  She didn’t generally put much
stock in dreams; she saw them as the brain’s way of combining events and
imagination.  But maybe this dream was a little different.  Maybe she was
supposed to get involved.

Would
Ryan mind?  Well, maybe.  Depends on how involved she got.  But at least he’d
mind less if she told him in advance that she was going to be asking around.

You
busy?
she texted him.

Working
on a case.  What’s up?
came his response.

Never
mind.  I’ll tell you next time we talk.

She
laid her phone on the desktop and picked up the sheet of scratch paper.  On one
side were some inventory reports she’d printed from her computer; on the
reverse were the things she’d jotted down about Verna.

The
first two jottings read
Hospital
and
Hospice.
  Those were Verna’s
volunteer activities.  Apparently, Verna had worked in the ICU at Hillside
Regional and as a companion with Caring Hearts, Hillside’s hospice
organization. 

She
was there when people’s lives hung in the balance, Heather thought.  Why would
anyone have wanted to put an end to hers?

Heather
circled the parking lot of Hillside Regional Hospital twice in her car before
finally pulling into a space that was farther away than she had hoped for.  She
knew walking was supposed to be good for you, but how much good could it do you
to walk for a mere minute?  She would much prefer to park closer to the door
and save her exercising for another time.  Like, never.

An
elderly lady wearing a pale blue scrub-type jacket with a round patch on the
shoulder that said Volunteer looked up as Heather approached the desk.  Her
name tag read Phyllis.  “May I help you?” she asked.

“Is
the volunteer coordinator in?” Heather asked.

“She’s
out to lunch.  Is there some way I could help you?”

“Rats. 
I had wanted to talk to you about one of your volunteers.  Verna Dixon.”

Phyllis’
mouth drooped, and her eyes softened.  “Verna doesn’t volunteer with us
anymore, unfortunately,” she said.  “Verna passed away recently.”

“I
know,” Heather said somberly.  “That’s what I wanted to talk to the volunteer
coordinator about.”

“Like
I said, she’s out to lunch.  But if you need to talk to somebody about Verna,
you might try the nurses in ICU.  That’s where Verna worked.  I imagine they
know her pretty well up there.”

“Thank
you, I’ll try that,” she said.  “Do I just take those elevators right there?”

“Third
floor, and follow the signs for ICU,” Phyllis said, pointing.

“Thank
you.”  She crossed the lobby to the elevators and pushed the button. 

As
she waited for the doors to open, a man in business casual clothes, with a
hospital badge clipped to his shirt pocket, came to stand next to her.  He
leaned in front of her and pushed the elevator button again.  When the doors
opened, he gestured to Heather to precede him inside, then darted inside
himself and pushed the 5 button.  “What floor?” he asked.

“Three.”

He
pushed the 3 button, then stood with his hands jammed into his pockets,
shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  What was he in such a hurry
about? Heather wondered as the doors slid open on the third floor.

Right
in front of her were arrows pointing both left and right to various
destinations.  Following the arrows to ICU, she turned right, then left, then
left again before coming up short at a set of double doors. 
Please ring for
admittance,
read the sign next to a red button.

Heather
pushed the button and waited.  In a few seconds, a voice came over the
intercom.  “May I help you?”

“I
was sent to speak to the ICU nurses about one of your volunteers,” she said. 
“Verna Dixon.”

“Come
through the doors and straight back.  Nurses’ station is on your right.”

Heather
heard a faint metallic click, and pushed against one of the doors.  It opened,
and she followed the tile floor past tiny, glass-fronted ICU rooms until she
came to the nurses’ station.  One nurse, whose blond hair was pulled into a
twist and clipped against her head by a barrette, looked up from her computer
station.  “May I help you?”

“I’m
Heather Janke.  I was sent to talk to the ICU nurses about Verna Dixon,” she
repeated.

“That
was me you talked to a minute ago.  Who sent you?  And how can I help you?”

“The
lady at the reception desk downstairs sent me.  I assume you know about…”

“Yes,
I know Verna passed,” the nurse, whose name tag read Kristen, said.  “Such a
shame.  She was an amazing volunteer.”

“It
is a shame,” Heather said.  “And I’ve been asked to look into her death by a
friend of her family.  I know she volunteered here at Hillside Regional, so I
wanted to talk to some people who knew her.”

“Are
you a detective?”

“No. 
Not exactly.  Well, not at all, really.  Unless you count amateur.”

“If
a friend of Verna’s asked you to look into her death, then whatever your
credentials are, they’re good enough for me.”

“Did
you know Verna well?”

“Pretty
well.  We didn’t socialize outside of work or anything, but we always talked
every time she came to volunteer.  Tuesdays and Thursdays.  But I guess you
know that.”

“What
kind of work did she do here?”

“Anything
we needed.  She’d run to the cafeteria for us, or sit with a patient for us, or
just anything at all.”

“Do
you have any idea why someone would want to kill her?”

“None
at all.  Verna was the sweetest woman I ever met.  She really cared about all
the patients here.  She had her favorites, but she cared about everybody.”

“Who
were her favorites?”

“I
can’t give you any names.  But over the past few years, she became quite
attached to several of the patients.  Recently, she had one patient in
particular she would spend a lot of time with.  This patient had no one.  So
Verna would just sit with him when there was nothing else to do, even if he was
sleeping.  She said when he woke up, it meant a lot to him to know someone was
there.”

“I
bet,” Heather said. 

“When
he died—that was a few days ago—Verna was really upset.  She didn’t come in
that next Thursday.  Said she needed some time.  We thought she’d be in on
Tuesday, but…”  Kristen shrugged.

“Did
Verna have any troubles while she was volunteering that you knew of?  Any
arguments with people, here or anywhere else?”

The
nurse was already shaking her head.  “Not that I knew of.  Nobody could argue
with Verna.  She was too sweet.  She just wouldn’t engage.”

“Did
people try to argue with her?”

“Not
really.  Every now and then, a patient’s family member would get upset about
something and yell.  It happens.  They’re under a lot of stress.  Verna would
just listen, then talk to them, and somehow, it would always come out all
right.”

“She
sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She
was.”

“Kristen,
thank you for your time,” Heather said.  “I appreciate it.”

“You’re
welcome.  Good luck with finding out whodunit.  I hope you do.”

“Thanks,”
Heather said, and turned to walk back the way she’d come.

***

When
Heather got to Giovanni’s, the lunch crowd had thinned, and there were plenty
of parking spots.  She chose one and walked toward the door.

This
was the site of her first date with Ryan.  He’d suggested coming here, and
she’d agreed, because she loved Italian food in general and Giovanni’s in
particular.  Heather paused in the foyer to allow her eyes to adjust from the
bright sunlight to the dimness of the restaurant.

“One
today?” the black-clad hostess asked, grabbing one menu.

“I’m
looking for someone,” she said, scanning the diners.  “Okay, I see him. 
Thanks.”

As
she threaded her way through the tables toward him, Ryan stood up to greet
her.  He planted a chaste kiss on her cheek and waited until she was seated
before sitting back down himself. 

“Have
you been waiting long?” she asked.

“Only
a couple minutes.  I asked them to bring us ice water.”

“Thanks,”
she said as the waiter arrived at their table with two glass of ice water, each
garnished with a slice of lemon.

“Good
afternoon,” he said to Heather.  “My name’s Seth, and I’m going to be taking
care of you two this afternoon.  Can I bring you anything else?”

“We’re
good.  Just give us a couple minutes to look over the menu,” Ryan said.

“Not
a problem.  Take your time, and I’ll be back.”

When
he had gone, Heather faced Ryan.  “How’s your day been?” she asked.  “Any
progress on the investigation?”

“It’s
moving along,” he said, taking a long sip of water.

“Any
details you can share with me?”

“There’s
not much to tell,” he said.  “You already know most of what we know.”  He
lowered his voice so that none of the other diners would overhear.  “Verna was
shot once, in the chest.  The piece of wood found sticking out of her was not
what caused her death.  Somebody placed it there later, possibly to attempt to
throw us off the track.  Though how anyone could have thought we wouldn’t
figure it out right away, I don’t know.”  He snorted in disgust.

“Maybe
it was someone who didn’t know much about guns?  Didn’t know how distinctive a
bullet hole looks?”

“Maybe. 
Who knows?”  He shrugged.

“I
went to the hospital today,” she offered.

“What
for?”

“To
try to talk to someone who knew Verna.  To learn more about her.  See what she
was like.”

“Are
you investigating her death?”  Ryan’s right eyebrow rose.

“Well…sort
of.  Eva asked me to.”

“Who’s
Eva?”

“One
of Verna’s friends.  And a regular customer at my shop.”

“Oh. 
That Eva.  Why did she ask
you
to investigate?”

“I
guess she thought I could be some sort of help.  Don’t worry; I told her that
any real investigating was best left to the police.”

“You’re
right about that,” he said.

Silence
fell.  Ryan took another sip of water.  Heather plucked the lemon off the rim
of her glass, laid it on the table, and took a sip of her own water.  When he
still hadn’t spoken, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

There
came his smile—a tired smile.  Tired, and something else she couldn’t quite put
her finger on.  “Long day, not much sleep last night,” he said.

“You’re
off tomorrow, right?”

“That
depends.  There’s no such thing as days off when you’re in the thick of an
investigation.”

“Maybe
you’ll solve it before then.”

“That
would be nice,” he said.  “But I’m not going to hold my breath.”

Seth
came back then and took their orders.  Heather managed to keep the conversation
going with little help from Ryan, but she was relieved when their food arrived
and she could busy herself with eating.  Something was wrong.  But what?  Was
the case bothering him?  Or was it something else?

“Care
for any dessert?” Seth asked, returning to their table.

“I
have to go,” Ryan said.  “Could you just bring us the check?”

Having
been about to order the chocolate fudge brownie, Heather kept silent as Seth
said, “Sure.  One check?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. 
Be right back.”

“Where
are you rushing off to?” Heather asked lightly.

“Everywhere
and nowhere,” Ryan said.  He reached for his wallet just as his cell phone
rang.  Ryan laid his wallet on the table and answered the call.  “Hello? 
Uh-huh.  Okay.  Be there in a few.”

Taking
two twenties out of his wallet, he handed them to Heather.  “Would you mind
paying?  I have to go.”

“Okay,”
Heather said, as he stood up and pushed his chair back.  “Be safe.”

“Will
do,” he said, coming around the table and leaning down to brush a kiss against
her cheek.  Then he was gone.