Cinnamon Crunch Murder (3 page)

A couple’s picture stared up at Heather. Goldie wrapped in the arms of a hunky dude with the typical ‘jock’ look.

“This is Foster,” Goldie said, tapping the picture with a gold fingernail. “That’s my boyfriend. Or he was before he up and disappeared. Just find him. He might have the answers you’re looking for.” 

Randy’s Burger Bar had changed since Heather had last visited. The place was practically empty, which was kinda weird for a usually busy Friday night. Those few patrons at the stark wood tables kept their noise to a minimum. Even the clink of cutlery had a muted quality.

“Some place,” Ryan said.

“The burgers are good, though. That’s all that counts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan replied, then grasped her hand and held it to his lips. “Sorry, babe, I’m just in a terrible mood.”

“Davidson?” Heather asked, uttering the ‘magic’ name which would surely put her husband in a bad mood.

“Do I even need to say yes?” Ryan slurped milkshake from his straw, the pink swirl shooting up the tube and disappearing between his lips. “My hands are tied on the case. Shoot, I’m not even on the case.” He huffed out a sigh.

“I don’t get it,” Heather said. “How can they have Davidson on the case when his daughter is the victim? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s totally against protocol,” Ryan replied. “It’s like Davidson has some hold over the Captain. Whatever Davidson says, goes around the station and becomes a new kind of law.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Heather said.

“It is dangerous. If it carries on this way, I might have to… Nah, I don’t even want to say it.”

Heather got up from her seat, circled the table and sat down beside her husband. She placed her head on his shoulder, and he snuggled closer to her. Like two teenagers on their first ever date.

“It’s going to turn out all right, honey,” Heather said, softly.

Ryan grunted by way of a reply.

Heather sat up straight and looked him in the eye. “Wait, so you’re not working the case?”

“I know what you’re thinking, and usually, I’d tell you to stay out of it, you’ve got a test tomorrow and so on, but yeah, Davidson’s weird interference changes a lot. Tell me what you’ve found out.”

Heather grinned broadly and hurried back to her side of the booth. She brought Foster and Goldie’s picture out of her handbag and slid it across the table. “I spoke to Goldie Gold, today. She’s the girl who had a fight with Tara, right before she died. According to Eva, I mean, and I would trust Eva with my life.”

“Goldie Gold? What a name.”

“It’s a nickname. But yeah, she’s kind of like the female version of Richie Rich and way more spoiled,” Heather replied. She grasped her soda and drank some of it, then licked the sweetness off her lips. “She said she’d never hurt Tara because they were best friends.”

“Of course, she did,” Ryan replied, picking up the picture and examining it.

“But, she mentioned that this Foster guy was flirting with Tara and that she hadn’t seen him since before the murder.” Heather shuddered. “He’s my best lead. Ugh, I can’t get over how this one happened. A stabbing seems so brutal.”

“It is brutal. They found black gloves at the scene, just FYI. Correction, they found one black glove. The other is missing,” Ryan said, and then put the picture back on the table.

The waitress arrived with their double cheeseburgers – extra bacon for both, hold the onions – and they took the opportunity to focus on food rather than the death of a young woman who’d seemed pretty much angelic for all intents and purposes.

Heather put her half-eaten burger back on the plate, took a sip of soda, and then dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“Do you have any other info I might be able to use?”

Ryan scrunched up his nose, still chewing. He swallowed and gestured with his burger. “Nope. They’ve taken me off the case, remember? Davidson’s orders.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hmmm, well, there was one thing. The neighbor who lived above Tara used to complain a lot about her noise, consistently. But that’s a stretch. It was reported to the cops a week before the murder. I remember because the guys were irritated about having to go out there. They came back even angrier when there’d been no apparent disturbance at all.”

Heather nodded. “All right, duly noted. I’ll check it out.”

“The only thing you need to check out tonight and tomorrow, are those books. The course materials and the whatsits. I dunno whatever you call them. What time is your test?”

“Oh, don’t worry; I stayed up all last night studying. Sometimes, I think the murder cases in Hillside provide the perfect case studies and examples for my studies.” Heather picked up her burger again. “It’s at 10 am. Still plenty of time to do one last revision.”

They descended into an easy silencing, eating and smiling at each other from across the table. Warmth spread through Heather’s torso. Whenever she was with Ryan, she got the feeling that everything would be all right.

“I almost forgot,” she said, “I saw Geoff Lawless at Flighty Florists just before the murder. He came into glare and be bearded and bald just as we were about to leave.”

“Geoff Lawless,” Ryan said, “that’s interesting. I don’t know. I don’t see him as the murderer kind of guy.”

“A very shrewd observation, detective,” Heather replied, choking out a laugh. “But he’s still an avenue I intend on investigating. Though, I’ll have to do it from afar. He seems to latch on to me and start making vague, baking related threats anytime I get too close.”

Ryan nodded, and then cast a glance back at the door to the restaurant. The place had emptied out even more since they’d arrived.

“Just be careful. I get the feeling that Davidson’s out to get his ‘man’ on this one. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Me? Hurt? How could I get hurt with you around, gorgeous?” Heather asked, then patted him on the arm, portraying confidence she didn’t feel.

Sweat cropped up on the back of her neck. She glanced out the window and swallowed. A police cruiser had just pulled up and parked. The officer inside stared at the restaurant, unmoving.

Heather hummed Here Comes the Sun, striding up the front stairs to her porch, keys out overcome with joy with having passed her test . She was seconds from jumping up and down, maybe letting out a wild whoop of success, but she contained it.

Her neighbors would call the psych ward if she did a dance mid-stride. Especially after the whole ‘dead body on the porch’ thing.

Heather unlocked her front door and let herself into the entrance hall.

Dave trotted up to meet her, barking a greeting and wagging his tail in circles.

“Hey, Davey, how are you today? I hope you’ve stayed out of the donuts.”

Dave yapped his answers, ears perking up at the mention of his favorite treat.

“You know what? You’ve lost a lot of weight lately. I’m in the mood to celebrate. Maybe I should get us a couple Cinnamon Crunches, and we’ll have ourselves a donut party.” Heather grinned and shut the door behind her, then locked it.

She had to get back to Donut Delights now that her test was done. She had too many orders, online and otherwise, to take a day off for her test.

Heather Shepherd would be the nation’s answer to delicious donut treats pretty darn soon.

Dave licked her ankles, and Heather bent and picked him up, then stroked him on the back of the neck.

“Things are looking up, Dave. Things are looking great. I’ll call Amy to bring the donuts before I head back to work.”

Heather walked him through to the living room, and then placed him on his favorite spot on the sofa. She brought her cell out of her pocket, grinning at the text message from Ryan.

I knew you’d pass. Love you. See you tonight, gorgeous.

She’d messaged him the minute she’d got the results. The glory of online tests: instant pass or fail. Luckily, she had done her studying on this one.

Heather sent Ryan a ‘love you’ back, then tapped through to her contacts and found Amy.

She clicked the name and –

Glass shattered into the living room. A heavy thump on the carpet. Dave barked, yelped, and then broke into a flurry of barking. Heather shrieked once, dropped her phone, and stumbled back a step.

“What on earth?”

Sunlight streamed through the hole where her window had been. All that remained were jagged edges of the glass. Luckily, her cream curtains had been tied back.

“How did it? Where did it?” Heather stammered. “Dave? Are you okay? Are you cut?”

But Dave sat on the sofa, barking and growling at the street outside. Which was empty of cars and people.

Heather hurried to him and checked him for wounds, but he was fine. By some miracle. He’d avoided the glass eruption, entirely. “Boy, somebody up there must like you, Dave,” Heather said.

She spun on the spot, searching for the cause of the break. A bird maybe? Poor thing probably hadn’t seen it coming. But no, that brown lump on the carpet wasn’t a bird.

It was a –

“Brick? Oh my gosh, someone threw a brick through my window.” A cold child ran down Heather’s spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

She bent slowly, ignoring Dave’s frantic barks, and grabbed the brick. She raised it, turned it over in her hands and gasped. The gasp set Dave barking wildly again.

Two words sprawled across the brick in permanent marker.

STAY OUT.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Or did it? Someone had taken offense to her investigation. Goodness, she hadn’t even sleuthed around that much, yet.

Heather bit her lip, and then bent and put the brick where she’d found it. She picked up her cellphone next.

The tempered glass screen cover was cracked, but the screen behind it was still okay. She shot off a text to Ryan.

Someone just threw a brick through our front window. No injuries. Please come home and take a look.

Heather sighed and walked to Dave. She scooped him up, tucked him under her arm and carried him through to the entrance hall. “I don’t think it’s a good idea we go back in there, Dave,” Heather said. “And I’m not sure about those donuts now, either. Looks like things aren’t as perfect as I thought they were.”

Dave whined and nibbled at her wrist.

“Cut it out,” she said.

They settled in for the wait, and sure enough, Ryan pulled up in his cruiser in no time.

He darted up the front stairs, and Heather opened the door for him.

“What happened?” He asked, grabbing her by the shoulders, and searching her gaze. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. We just got a bit of a fright.”

Ryan sighed, then squared his shoulders, transforming into Detective Shepherd in a blink of an eye. “Where?”

“Through there. The living room. And whoever did it left a message for me on the brick.” Heather didn’t doubt the message was intended for her for a second. She had a knack for attracting unwanted attention.

Ryan walked through, and then picked his way across the array of broken glass and directly to the brick. He lifted it, gingerly, and pursed his lips. “Oh boy. I’m going to have to take this into evidence.”

“But you’re not on the case,” Heather replied.

“That’s right. Which means I’ll have to call Davidson to report this. I’m sorry, Heather, but you’re a suspect in his case, and that means I have to report anything to do with you. It’s his sole directive.”

“Ugh, this is terrible. I don’t want you to feel this kind of pressure because of me,” Heather said.

Ryan laughed. “I can’t believe that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What, you think I should worry about Detective Davidson?” Heather asked. “In his dreams.” Dave barked in a show of solidarity. “Besides, I think I have bigger problems than him, right now. Like, who threw that brick through our front window?”

Heather clutched Dave’s leash and stared at the construction site, eyes narrowed.

“Earth to Heather, are you with me?” Amy clicked her fingers underneath Heather’s nose. “I thought we had a perp to interview.”

“A perp?” Heather asked, mirth tickling the corners of her mouth upwards. “Since when do you talk like a movie cop?”

“Better than being an actual cop,” Amy replied. “Hand me Dave’s leash. I can wait out here with him.”

“I don’t see why he’d have to wait outside. This doesn’t look like a dog-free building. I’m pretty sure they have cats and stuff in there,” Heather said, pointing up at the apartment building just ahead of them.

The white-painted exterior was clean, but a couple of the windows bore smudges, and the front doors showed signs of misuse and age.

“Tara didn’t live in the best part of town, did she?” Amy muttered.

They strode toward the building, and then stopped beside a parked burgundy sedan. The clatter of hammers and the growl of drills was invasive, but not loud enough to block out Heather’s humming.

“What is it this time? Something morose? Are you singing something from the Rocky Horror Picture
Show?”