Killer Crullers (13 page)

Her joy would be a time of sadness for me, and I hated myself for thinking of it that way.

Momma came out with two coffee mugs, but I declined mine. “I’ve got to get up early,” I said. “And we both know that I don’t need any more stimulation tonight.”

“Suzanne, nothing has changed, at least not at the moment.”

I just shook my head. “I don’t believe that for a second, and neither should you.”

“You’ve made it clear how you feel,” Momma said as she took a sip of coffee. How could she be so calm about all of this?

I took a deep breath and decided it was time to grow up a little. “I’m the first to admit that I’ve handled this all wrong tonight. Let me start over. I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me,” I said.

“Even if it means I marry Phillip?” she asked.

“Even then,” I agreed.

“So, you’re not going to try to talk me out of this anymore?”

I looked deep into her eyes and did my best to mean what I was about to say. “It’s your decision, and I respect what you come up with either way. For what it’s worth, if you decide to marry him, you have my blessing.”

She looked surprised by my declaration, but I knew in my heart that she realized I was being honest with her.

Momma hugged me, and then said, “I’m so glad you feel that way, but honestly, I don’t know what to do.”

I smiled at her. “That’s easy. Take your time, weigh the pros and cons, and then make your decision. This should be like every other important judgment you’ve ever made in your life.” I stifled a yawn, and then added, “If you’d like to discuss it more with me, I promise to be unbiased.”

“Go on to bed, Suzanne. As you said, there’s no need to make any decisions tonight.” She hugged me, and then added softly in my ear, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I said.

As I lay in bed, I wondered what would happen. Things were changing all around me, and I seemed to be standing still. Grace could possibly be on her way to finding true love, and my mother just might be starting in an entirely different direction with her life. All the while, I made donuts, and spent far too much of my time missing Jake.

One thing was certain.

No matter what happened, my life was most likely about to change, one way or another.

*   *   *

The next morning at the donut shop, Emma said, “You’re being awfully quiet, Suzanne. Is something wrong?” She’d taken advantage of her sleeping-in time, but I was glad she was there with me now.

“No, not that I can think of,” I said as I rolled out the last bit of dough for the glazed donuts we were making. I’d held out a small amount and had added bits of apple and dusted the dough with cinnamon and nutmeg before I cut the shapes out, hoping to improve on my apple-pie donut. It was a big hit when the weather got cooler, but I loved trying to tweak my recipes further now that I had my donut recipe book back, or a copy of it, at least. “Why do you ask?”

“If that dough gets rolled out any thinner, you’ll be making pie crust instead of donuts.”

I looked down and saw that she was right. I must have taken my anxieties about my mother’s big announcement the night before out on my donuts. “Sorry.”

I put my French rolling pin down and took the solid donut cutter, rolling it across the dough to make cutouts for my filled donuts. Normally I wouldn’t dream of adding anything extra to the dough itself, relying on fillings and toppings to make them special in their own way, but I wanted to experiment and see what would happen. They probably wouldn’t proof right, or if they did, something would most likely kill them before a customer ever tasted one, but that was okay. For all I knew, they could turn out to be wonderful.

I cut the solid shapes out with the small hand roller, moving the circular cutter across the dough in one steady and fluid motion. I’d been so impressed the first time I’d seen the Bismarck, Solid, and Holed donut rollers, but using them now was just a matter of course for me. Plucking the cut shapes from the dough, I transferred them to a sheet and put them in the proofer along with the rest of the day’s glazed donuts. Once they were all in, I helped Emma clean the work surface, and it was time for one of our truncated breaks. Along with our limited hours, I’d decided that we’d have to work more and rest less while we were there. As long as it allowed Emma to sleep in a little, she was all for it.

“We’ve got ten minutes,” I said. “Care to go outside?” It was our usual practice to go out in front of the shop on our breaks, no matter what the weather or temperature. In the summer, being out there was usually quite pleasant, but in bad weather, or frosty temperatures, we had to bundle up.

“I vote for outside,” she said. “Always.”

We got our coats on and stepped out into a perfect morning, still pitch-black, with more than a touch of frost in the air. It made me glad that Momma and I had a fireplace at the cottage, and we weren’t afraid to use it. I knew a man who loved my donuts, and in exchange for a credit of coffee and treats throughout the year, he kept us supplied with seasoned oak firewood. I loved the barter system; and our woodpile never got low, and he never ran short on donuts.

“Brrr,” Emma said as she pulled her jacket tighter. “Smell that,” she commanded as she took a deep breath.

“Wood smoke,” I said. “It smells like home, doesn’t it?”

“I wish. Dad hates fires, and won’t have one in the house. He says that owning a newspaper has made him jumpy about open flames for years.”

“That’s too bad,” I said. “You could always come over and join us some evening.” As long as I was still a resident in the cottage, I could make that offer. If Momma and the chief got married, I knew without being told what that meant to me. I’d be moved out before they got back from their honeymoon, and it didn’t matter how hard they asked me to stay. Two was company, but I wasn’t about to be a third wheel in my own place.

“I might just take you up on it.” She inhaled again, and then asked, “Is there something else in the air, maybe? Could we get an early snow this year?” The last was not said with much anticipation, because besides a fun one-time ride on the back of a snowmobile, Emma was not a big fan of snow.

I, on the other hand, loved it.

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” I said, but when I saw her face fall, I quickly added, “But I don’t think there’s a chance we’ll get any snow before Christmas, and it’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”

“I hope you’re right,” Emma answered.

The timer I’d brought with us went off, and as I killed it, I said, “We need to go back in. We don’t have as much time as we used to, do we?”

She smiled at me as I let her in the door. “I can live with it, trust me. I love this new schedule, and I hope we won’t be getting any complaints.”

I had to laugh about that. “Emma, folks who would never dream about coming in before six or after eleven are going to howl like we cut off their air supply, you can count on it.”

“And you’re willing to put up with that?”

“Hey, I need the extra sleep just as much as you do, more probably. I’m looking forward to getting out of here at eleven every day, too.”

“I don’t know. I do all right on how much sleep I get now.”

“Come back and tell me that when you’re my age,” I said with a smile.

*   *   *

We were rushed with our new schedule, and I knew it would take some getting used to, but ultimately it would be worth it.

I looked over the finished donuts sitting in their cases, missing only the raised apple ones I’d tried to make, unsuccessfully. The moisture content of the apple bits had most likely been too much for the dough to handle, but I wasn’t going to give up. Maybe next time they’d be perfect. I still had plenty of things to offer to the world today, though. I was often tempted to take a photograph of my display case, but I wasn’t at all sure what I would do with it once it was taken. On a whim, I got my camera out of my jacket where I’d stowed it the day before to get some shots of the trees in the park. I took a few shots of the display cases, and Emma caught me doing it.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I just wanted something for my scrapbook,” I said, hoping the conversation was over.

“You scrapbook? You should talk to my mother. She loves scrapbooking.”

“I meant to say if I ever decide to get around to making one,” I said. I glanced at the clock and saw that we had a full ninety seconds before it was time to open.

Standing in front of the shop, his hands in his pockets and a hat pulled low over his face, I spotted George.

“I’ll let him in, and you can get started on the dishes.”

Emma smiled. “That’s me. I get all the glamorous jobs around here.”

“We could switch, if you’d like,” I said, knowing full well that Emma was much more comfortable in back than she was waiting on customers up front.

“No, thanks. It’s all yours.”

“Come on in,” I told George as I opened the door. “You look chilly.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “When did you start opening up at six instead of five?”

“This morning’s our first day,” I admitted. “I should have taken an ad out in the paper to announce our new hours.”

“Folks will learn the new routine soon enough,” he said.

“Coffee?” I offered, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, ma’am, please,” George said.

“And a donut, too?”

“I’ve never said no to one in the past, have I?”

“I’ve got a hunch you won’t start now. By the way, they’re on the house.”

He frowned. “Suzanne, just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I can’t afford to buy my own coffee and donuts.”

I grinned at him. “Actually, I was hoping you’d be willing to work on Desmond Ray’s murder case with me. The coffee and donuts are your salary.”

He nodded. “That’s excellent news. How about Grace? Will she be working with us?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we’d already started digging into it. “Absolutely, she’s on board.”

“And Jake?” George asked, clearly hoping that my state police investigator boyfriend was going to be helping us, as well.

“Not this time, at least not yet. If we need him, though, I’m sure we can ask for a hand.”

“Good enough,” George said as he took a big bite of donut. “You know something? These things taste even better when they’re on the house.”

“You’re not freeloading; we’re bartering your time and talent for mine.”

“I like that even better,” he said as he took a sip of coffee. “So, where should we get started?”

I couldn’t leave him in the dark any longer. “Grace and I have already been doing some preliminary work. We’ve come up with four names, and I was hoping we could split them down the middle with you.”

George took out his small notebook, much like the ones Jake and Chief Martin carried with them, and then said, “I’m ready.”

“So far, we’ve been able to discover that Katie Wilkes, Allen Davis, Jenny Ray, and Bill Rodgers might have motives to want to see Desmond dead. Talbot’s Landing seems to figure into some of it, so that might be a good place to start.”

“I’m surprised,” George said as he looked at the names.

“By how well we did?” I asked.

“More like the two you left off,” he replied.

“Tell me who we missed,” I said.

“One has to be Jean Ray, and the other Gabby Williams. Whether we like it or not, we have to keep them in mind.”

“I understand that,” I said. “They’re on our list, too, but we know where we can find them.”

George nodded. “Now, tell me about the four I don’t know.”

“Katie was Desmond’s ex-girlfriend, Allen was his ex-best friend, Bill was his ex-business partner, and Jenny is his cousin, who happens to be working his old job now at Jean’s place helping her out.”

“Looks like there are some possible reasons for murder there,” George said. “Any way you’d like to divide this list up?”

“I was kind of hoping you’d be able to dig into all of their lives a little so we can find out where they are, and what their stories are. I don’t mean that you should confront any of them directly, or even speak to them yet. Are we clear about that, George?” I was being pretty demanding since one time when I’d asked George for his active help, he almost hadn’t survived a confrontation with a killer. Surgeries, rehab, and a cane all reminded me of how close I’d come to losing him, and it was just recently that his limp had finally begun to fade away.

“Got it. I can do some digging, and they won’t even know I was investigating them.”

“Just how are you going to manage that?” I asked as three customers walked in.

“With my computer,” he said as I walked over to the new customers.

“Hey, where have you been?” one of them asked. “We were here an hour ago for donuts, and no one was here.”

“I was in back making them,” I said. “What can I get you, gents?”

“Your store hours might be nice,” he said.

I pointed to the window. “Six to eleven,” I said. “Now, are we talking, or are we getting donuts and coffee?”

One of the other men said, “I vote donuts.”

“I second it,” the third man said, “and don’t forget the coffee.”

“Looks like you’re outvoted,” I said to the man who’d protested our new hours. “Tell you what I’ll do. For the trouble, I’ll throw three glazed donuts onto your order, on the house.”

“Three apiece?” one of them asked with a smile.

I returned his grin. “One per customer, and the offer’s only good for another ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven—”

“Sold,” the first customer said.

“I’ll see you at eleven,” George said as he walked out of the shop.

I hoped he kept his word. I knew there was a good chance that someone on our list was a killer, and it wouldn’t do to make any wrong moves, at least until we had a better idea of who exactly we were dealing with.

CHAPTER 9

“Good morning, ladies,” I said with a smile as Terri Milner and Sandy White walked into the donut shop around nine. “Are the kids in school?”

“Oh, yes,” Terri said, her relief obvious. “I dearly love my twins, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that school is a lovely diversion.”

“I feel guilty. I have just one son,” Sandy said.