"Thanks for everything," I said.
He tipped his hat. "Just doing my job."
George arrived shortly afterwards, but by the time dawn broke, we still hadn't heard anything about Jake's condition. There would be no donuts today, but that didn't seem to matter.
All I cared about was Jake pulling through.
A doctor in scrubs finally walked out, and approached us. I wasn't sure what the chief had told them, but it was clear someone had instructed him to keep me informed.
"Ma'am, you're with Officer Bishop, aren't you?"
"I am," I said. "How is he?"
"He was lucky, if you can ever call getting knifed in the chest a matter of luck. We were able to take care of most of the muscle damage. He's going to be off his feet for a while, but I don't see any reason he shouldn't make a full recovery."
"Can I see him?" I asked. I had a thousand questions for him, but none more important than to find out if I'd been the cause of him getting stabbed.
"Not until later today. After three, I think he might be able to have one visitor, but that's the soonest possible."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Don't thank me. You should thank whoever got him in here in time. He'd lost a lot of blood, and in another ten minutes, he would have been gone."
After he left, I turned to Momma and said, "Let's go."
"You're right. Home is where you should be."
"That's not where I'm headed," I said. "If the chief is finished with the crime scene, I'm going to make donuts."
She looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. "Suzanne, be reasonable. Nobody expects you to provide donuts today. You're being ridiculous."
I grabbed my mother's hands in mine. "You don't understand. I have to make donuts right now, or I'll never be able to go back into that shop again. I've got to wipe out the memories of what happened, and replace them with good ones."
George overheard me, and said, "I'll give you a ride. Come on."
"My daughter will come with me," she said, still trying to protect her cub.
"Let's all go," I said. "If we can get in there, the donuts will be on me."
We formed a little caravan and drove back to Donut Hearts. There was only one squad car parked there, and I was surprised to find Chief Martin on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor. The splashed oil had already been cleaned up, and he was nearly finished with the dining area.
"Chief, you didn't have to do this," I said. "What about your crime scene?"
"We expedited it," he said as he stood. "I couldn't let you come back to what was here, not after what my force put you through, so everyone off duty came by to help clean up. It should be ready for you tomorrow, if you're up to coming back so soon."
I was sure the disappointment showed on my face. "Does that mean I can't make donuts today?"
Momma said, "Please, Phillip, it's important."
The chief nodded. "The place is yours. I just thought . . ."
My mother took the pail from him, and the rag he'd been using. "We appreciate this more than we can express."
He was clearly tongue-tied by my mother's praise.
"Sorry about everything," he mumbled.
My mother kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Nonsense. It's not how you start something, it's how you finish."
They walked out together, and I looked through the open door at my kitchen, the scene of so much distress. Could I ever work there again? Was it time to sell the place and move on to something else?
No, I couldn't bring myself to do that. Making donuts wasn't just what I did, it was a part of who I was.
George came back in from my office, wearing the tall chef's hat I'd gotten as a gag gift from Emma and trying to tie an apron that barely covered his girth.
"I'm ready to get started. What's first?"
"We'll measure the flour, just as soon as I top off the oil in the fryer," I said.
I was back, and it felt good making a batch of donuts, almost as if things were back to normal. George and I made a batch of cake donuts with Momma watching us, giving us tips I didn't need as we worked. There wasn't time to make the yeast ones, but the cooking was symbolic, and the donuts tasted especially good when we ate them.
After we cleaned up, I boxed up a dozen donuts, and headed back to the hospital.
"I can't believe you brought me donuts," Jake said when I walked into his room.
"I'm sorry, but they won't let you have any. Not until at least tomorrow."
"That's just cruel," he said. "If I can't have any, why did you bring them?"
I smiled down at him, trying to ignore the bandage covering most of his chest and the drip tube in his arm. "I wasn't taunting you," I said. "I didn't know. I'm going to leave them at the nurses' station. I figure they'll need a treat after putting up with you."
I leaned forward and kissed him lightly, being careful not to disturb anything.
"What was that for?"
"For protecting me," I said.
"Are you kidding? From what the chief told me, you're the one who took care of me. That was quick thinking, chucking the rolling pin into the oil."
"It was natural for me; I've been working with that fryer for years. I had a good idea what kind of impact it would make when it hit. I couldn't have done it without you, though. You pulled those pans off the shelf, and that gave me the time I needed to grab the pin and toss it."
He smiled. "So we're both heroes."
"Not quite. I need to ask you something. Are you lying here with a hole in your chest because of something I did? I'll never be able to forgive myself if it is."
He shook his head. "I did that all on my own. I
was worried about you, so I decided to stake out the donut shop in case somebody dropped by. Moore tried to tell me the story about Grant attacking you, but I didn't believe it for a second. I talked to Grant about his arm, and he told me that he was cutting a tree branch when it snapped. It scratched him up pretty badly, and I guess Moore decided to use it divert the suspicion away from himself. I've got to admit that while I was sitting out there in the darkness watching your back, I'd decided I needed to focus on Moore. To be honest with you, he got me before I could do anything about it. I don't know why he dragged me from my car to your shop. Showing off, I guess. He wanted someone to see how clever he'd been taking out a state cop, and since he was . . . you know."
"I know what you're going to say, so I'll finish it for you."
"You don't need to," he said softly.
I ignored him and said, "Since he was going to kill me anyway, what harm could it do? Only you were too stubborn to die, and that's what saved us both."
"I guess we were both lucky this morning," he said.
"I'm just glad it turned out all right."
He frowned. "Hey, are those donuts fresh?"
"Would I ever bring you stale donuts, even if you can't eat them?"
"That's what I mean," he said. "I can't believe you made donuts today."
I started to stammer. "I knew you weren't going to be able to see me until later, and I had to get back on the horse again, you know?" I looked down at
him and saw that he was smiling. "What are you grinning about?"
"I'm just glad you're not giving up the shop after what happened."
I smiled at him. "Don't worry, it will take more than that."
A nurse came by and said, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to leave."
I handed her the boxed donuts. "Could I bribe you with these for one more minute with him?"
She took the offering, then grinned. "I suppose we can make an exception, just this once."
After she was gone, I said, "Where does this leave us?"
"I think the case is pretty well wrapped up."
"I'm not talking about what happened today, and you know it."
He shrugged, and I saw him wince from the pain. "Let's just take it a day at time and see, okay?"
I kissed him again, then said, "Okay, I get the hint. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Bring chocolate sprinkles next time. I love chocolate sprinkles."
I laughed at him as I left his room.
It would be good having someone in my life again, if that's what Jake was becoming. There were a thousand reasons why we shouldn't even try to work out some kind of relationship, I knew that better than anyone else, but there was one factor that overruled all of the rest.
I felt better about myself when I was with him than I did when we were apart.
And really, what other reason did I need?
Tomorrow's delivery would be overflowing with chocolate-sprinkle donuts.
I couldn't think of a better way to let him know that I cared.
INDEX OF RECIPES
16
A GOOD BEGINNING DONUT
36
SUZANNE?S PUMPKIN DONUTS
65
MAMMA?S HOMEMADE WAFFLES
95
EASY FRIED APPLE PIES
116
BAKED CINNAMON APPLE DONUTS
148
SOUTHERN PEACH COBBLER
171
GINGERBREAD ?STICKS AND STONES? DONUTS
200
SPICED BUTTERMILK DONUTS
224
THE EASIEST DONUT RECIPE IN THE WORLD
244
MOMMA?S CHEESY CHICKEN
269
ORANGE SPICE CAKE DONUTS
Here's an exciting sneak peek at
FATALLY FROSTED,
the next Donut Shop mystery from Jessica Beck,
coming soon from
St. Martin's / Minotaur Paperbacks!
I thought getting away from my business--Donut Hearts--for a few days might be fun, but when I agreed to make gourmet donuts for one of my friends, I had no idea it would put me right in the middle of a homicide investigation where one of my donuts would actually be used as a murder weapon.
Just about everyone I knew in April Springs, North Carolina--population 5,001--was looking forward to the September Kitchens Extraordinaire home tour ever since it had first been announced in
The April Springs Sentinel
--including me. When my friend, Marge Rankin, suggested I demonstrate how to make something special in her newly remodeled kitchen for the tour, I'd jumped at the chance to show off just what I could do with some dough and a portable fryer. There wouldn't be a yeast donut or an apple fritter on
the menu; I was going to pull out all of the stops and make something unforgettable.
"Jake, do you really want to learn how to make beig-nets?"
My boyfriend--a state police inspector named Jake Bishop I'd been seeing since March--smiled at me as we stood in the kitchen of Donut Hearts. He looked cute wearing one of our aprons, but I knew better than to tell him that. Jake was tall and thin, with a healthy head of sandy blond hair, and there was something about the man's presence that made me smile.
"Not as much as I like being around you," he admitted. I didn't get to see him nearly enough, since his casework took him all over the state of North Carolina. I had to give him points for honesty, but I still had a job to do.
"I've got an idea," I said. "Why don't you sit over there and keep me company, and I'll let you sample the beignets I make? You can be my official taster."
He took off the apron as though he'd been pardoned for a crime he'd never committed. "That's the best deal I've had in weeks."
"You don't have to look so relieved when you say it," I said with a grin.
"What can I tell you? I'm all about leaving tough stuff to the experts."
I frowned at the finished dough. It was close to the consistency I'd been hoping for, but the true test would be in the taste. "I'm not sure I qualify."
"Come on, you're the best donut maker in the
world. You told me yourself beignets are just fancy donuts, and no one's better at making those than you. I'm a cop; trust me, I know donuts."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't have time on the tour to make these with yeast, so I'm going to have to substitute baking powder instead. It's more chemistry than you'd imagine." It was true. While cooking recipes could usually be slightly modified with impunity, baking was another matter altogether. I needed enough baking powder to make the dough rise when it hit the hot oil, but not too much, or it would be a disaster, and if there was one thing I couldn't afford, it was to wreck my demonstration.
He laughed. "Don't sell yourself short. I know I couldn't do it."
I lightly floured the counter and rolled out the dough until it was somewhere between a quarter-and an eighth-inch thick, and then cut it into squares. For the demonstration, I'd be using my ravioli cutter, a scallop-edged tool that left perfectly shaped circles, but this test-run was more about taste than appearance.
I dropped the first rounds into the oil and held my breath. After cooking two minutes on a side, I flipped them, and then pulled them out after another two. I had a plate ready, and dusted them with confectioner's sugar while they were still hot.
"Man, those smell fantastic," Jake said as I slid the plate in front of him.
"Tell me how they taste," I said.
We both reached for the same one, and I laughed. "There's plenty for both of us."
"That's what you think." He took a bite, and I
watched his expression. If the look of joy meant anything, I might have a winning recipe after all.
"Outstanding," he said as he reached for another one.
I was happy with his reaction, but I was a harsher judge than he was.
