Deadly Donuts (5 page)

“Will do,” the man said as he turned on his thick police flashlight and started his search.

“Should I go home?” I asked the chief as his men went to work.

“Don’t you have a donut shop to open?” he asked me.

“Sure, but I wasn’t sure that you’d want me to open the place this morning after what happened here,” I admitted.

“You might as well go ahead and work.
 
I know where to find you if I need you.”

“Good enough,” I said as I walked down to Donut Hearts, leaving my Jeep parked right where it was.

Fifteen minutes later, I had fresh coffee, so I put some in cups for the crew, locked up the shop, and walked down to deliver the brews.

The chief took one gratefully, as did two of his other officers.
 
Grant was busy at the moment, but I set one aside for him.
 

“Any luck so far?” I asked.
 
“I still don’t even know what killed him.”

“From my preliminary examination, it appears that it was a blow to the back of the head,” the police chief said.
 
I was startled by how willing he was to share the information, but I wasn’t about to point it out to him.

“Who would do something like that?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Off the top of my head, I can think of a couple of people who had a motive to want to stop him,” the chief admitted.
 
“And I’m about to go wake one of them up and question her.
 
Would you care to come along and soften your mother up for me?”

I knew the answer to that question without even having to think about it.
 
“Sorry, but I’ve got donuts to make.”

“Sure, I just bet you do,” he said.
 
“Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re most welcome.
 
And, Chief?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck with Momma.
 
I have a hunch you’re going to need it.”

“I’m afraid that you’re right.”

I tried to linger at the crime scene, but the chief wouldn’t leave until I was safely locked back in my donut shop.
 
I didn’t have much choice, so I got started with the morning’s cake donuts.
 
The entire time I worked, I kept wondering where Momma had been the night before, and just how long she’d been in bed when I woke up.
 
I sincerely hoped that she didn’t need me for an alibi.
 
It wasn’t that I wouldn’t lie for her; if it meant saving her, I had no compunction about that, but I had a hunch she wouldn’t let me perjure myself.

Police cars with their flashing lights were still filling the night when Emma walked into the shop.
 
“What’s going on out there?”

“There was a murder right beside the clock,” I said.

My assistant barely hesitated a second before she asked, “Can I call Dad?”

Emma’s father owned and ran the town’s newspaper, and he paid for every tip he received, whether it was from his daughter or not.
 
Why shouldn’t Emma get a little extra cash from this mess?
 
“Go ahead, but I don’t have any of the details.”

“That’s okay, he’ll get them on his own,” she said, and then she hurriedly called him.

I was afraid that he’d do just as Emma had suggested, and that my family, and our good name, was about to get another bit of bad press.
 
I just hoped that he
never
found out everything there was to know about the ties the murder victim had to the Harts.

Emma and I kept making donuts as the morning wore on, although I couldn’t help but stare at the clock every thirty seconds as we worked.
 
Why hadn’t Momma called me yet?
 
Was the chief still grilling her about the murder, despite their relationship?
 
Would he have to bring someone else in to work on the case?
 
I had mixed feelings about the prospect of Jake coming to town to investigate my family again.
 
It hadn’t been all that good an experience the last time that he’d done it, and I had
no
desire for it to happen again.

The phone finally rang, and I picked it up quickly, despite the dough still stuck to my hands.

“Momma?” I asked.
 
“Are you okay?”
 
As much as I’d wanted to, I couldn’t keep the concern I was feeling for her out of my voice.

“It’s all right, Suzanne,” my mother said in that soothing tone she used when she knew that I was troubled by something.
 
“Phillip just left.”

“What happened?
 
Did you know that this guy was in town?
 
Did he talk to you about Daddy, too?”

Momma hesitated a moment, and then she confessed, “That’s where I was yesterday evening.
 
Apparently after he spoke with you at the donut shop, he decided that he’d be better off going straight to the source.”

“It’s not true, is it, what he said about Daddy?”

“Suzanne, we need to have a conversation about this, but I don’t want to do it over the telephone.”

I felt my heart stop.
 
“Are you telling me that he really
did
it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered flatly.
 
The words must have been as hard for her to say as they were for me to hear.

“Momma, how could you not know?”

“Suzanne, I’ll be there in four minutes.
 
We can discuss it when I arrive.”

My mother hung up, and as I put my phone on the counter so I could wash my hands, Emma said, “It might just be me, but that did not sound good.”

I looked sternly at my assistant as I said, “You didn’t hear anything just now, Emma, so there’s nothing you need to share with your father, is there?”

Emma looked upset by my question, but it needed to be voiced nonetheless.
 
“Suzanne, I would
never
betray your confidence.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, hoping that my gut instinct that she was telling the truth was on the money.
 
“I just thought that it might bear repeating under the circumstances.”

“Believe me, I get it,” she replied, though it was obvious she had been a little hurt by my statement.
 

So be it.

I had a family to protect, and if some bruised feelings were the worst things that I caused, I would consider it a success.
 
I looked at our progress in the donut-making process, and I saw that I could leave the yeast dough in Emma’s hands when Momma showed up.
 
“Can you handle cutting out the donuts and bismarks with the wheels by yourself while I talk to my mother when she gets here?”

“Of course,” she said.
 
“I can do it, but I won’t be nearly as fast as we are when we work together.
 
Should I call my mother in to lend us a hand this morning?”
 
Emma’s mother had stepped up and helped on the rare occasions I was away from Donut Hearts, and she’d said a dozen times over the years that she was available if we ever needed her again.

“No, that shouldn’t be necessary.
 
I just need you to stay here and work while I have this chat up front.
 
If you need anything, improvise until I come back into the kitchen.
 
Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

“Thanks,” I answered, softening my stance a little and easing my voice.

“I’m glad to do it.
 
No matter what happens, I don’t believe for a second that you or your mother are murderers,” Emma said.

“I appreciate that, but I really don’t want to talk about it.
 
Do you understand?”

“Absolutely.”

I went up front to wait on Momma, and I saw her drive up.
 

Before she got out of the car, I met her at the door.
 
“Let’s chat outside at the table.”
 
The temperature was beginning to get uncomfortable, even though the sun wasn’t up yet, but it wasn’t unbearable, and we needed our privacy for this particular conversation.

“That sounds prudent to me,” she said as she took a seat.
 
“I don’t suppose you have any coffee, do you?”

“I’ll be right back.”
 
Inside, I grabbed two mugs, filled them up, and then rejoined my mother outside.

 
My mother took a long sip, sighed, and then she said, “That is delightful.”

“I’m glad you like it.
 
Now talk, Momma, and don’t leave anything out.”

She nodded.
 
“I suppose we should have had this conversation years ago, but there never seemed to be a good time to do it.”

“Right about now seems like the perfect opportunity to me,” I said.

“Very well.”
 
It was clear that Momma was still reluctant to begin, but after a few moments, she sighed once, and then she began to explain.
 
“After your father and I were married just over seven years, we separated.”

“What?” I asked incredulously, nearly coming out of my chair in reaction to her statement.

“Suzanne, this will all go a great deal smoother if you keep your comments to yourself until I get through this.
 
There’s a
reason
that there’s a cliché surrounding the seven-year itch in marriage, and I’m afraid that your father had it.
 
At the time, he was dissatisfied with his life in general, including me, and so he moved out of April Springs to an apartment in Union Square, and it was seven months before he came home, begging me for my forgiveness.”

“And you must have given it,” I said, forgetting her request that I keep silent, “since you two ended up together again.”

“Oh, it was difficult enough swallowing my pride, but I finally found a way to do it.
 
I loved your father, and in a way, I understood his motivations.
 
But before I would let him come back home, I told him that I could forgive his behavior once, but that if he ever tried to leave again, we were through forever.
 
I wouldn’t recommend ultimatums for most couples, but it worked for us.
 
For the sake of our marriage’s fragile state, we decided not to discuss what we’d done during our separation.
 
In all the years afterwards, he never offered me a single clue about his time without me, and I never asked for any details.
 
We were together, and that was ultimately all that mattered.”

I tried to imagine letting Max off the hook for taking off on me for almost a year, but I couldn’t fathom the circumstances where I’d even begin to consider it.
 
Evidently my mother had a much more forgiving heart than I had.
 

Either that, or she had loved her husband a great deal more than I’d loved mine.

“Suzanne, I hope you don’t think less of me because of this,” Momma said as she stared down at her coffee mug.
 
“I know that it wasn’t the strongest thing I could have done given the circumstances, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

I leaned forward as I hugged her.
 
“You’re kidding, right?
 
To be honest with you, I think that it’s the strongest thing I’ve ever heard of anyone doing.”

“I don’t see how,” she said, clearly a little confused by my response.

“Momma, if you could swallow your pride and let Daddy back into your life after he abandoned you like that, it just shows me how strong you were.
 
I can tell you one thing; it’s more than I’d ever be able to do.”

“I worried that it would look like weakness in your eyes.”

“I don’t see it that way.
 
You weighed what you’d lose if you turned him away, and then you made a deal that you could live with.
 
Let me ask you something.
 
If he’d left again, how would you have reacted?”

“I’d have had his things removed from the cottage before he hit the end of the street,” she answered without hesitation.

“And were you two happy after he came back?”

“Gloriously,” she admitted.
 
“It doesn’t hurt to mention that ten months after he came home, you were born.
 
We grew more and more in love with each passing year until the moment he passed away.”

“Then it was the right decision,” I said.
 
“Now, enough about the past.
 
Let’s talk about the present.
 
Tell me all about what happened yesterday.”

“Well, as you know, I had a date with Phillip, but when Mr. Briar called me, I canceled our plans.
 
Suzanne, when I wrote you that note, I wasn’t lying.
 
I planned on being out on a date, but that telephone call changed everything.”

“Was that his name?
 
I never heard it myself.”

“I told him that I wouldn’t talk to an anonymous stranger, so he supplied that as his name, whether it was true or not.”