Chocolate Crunch Murder (2 page)

“I did, yeah.”

“Right. And, I just wanted to apologize. I know that must’ve been embarrassing for you and Donut Delights.”

“What? No way,” Heather said and flapped her hands at him. “Look, Donut Delights isn’t supposed to be your life. What happens out of work, stays out of work. Kind of like Vegas, but with less gambling, not that I’d know anything about that.”

“Thanks,” Jung replied, and his shoulders sagged. He puffed out his cheeks then exhaled. “I just want you to know that I’d never leave the bakery to work for Randy.”

“I didn’t doubt you for a second.”

“Good. You see Randy’s kind of, I dunno. He’s always been my best friend. One of them, anyway, and his business has been struggling lately. They sold or their furniture a week ago, just to make ends meet.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, and I think, in a way, he kind of blames me?” Jung gave a shake of his head, eyes downward cast. “What can you do right? Randy wants me to help him get back on track, but I can’t work for free. And I certainly don’t want to go from awesome donut recipes to hamburgers. Sweet is my thing.”

“I hear you,” Heather replied. “And I understand. Don’t even think about it anymore. You’ll never have to worry about your position at Donut Delights. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” She opened her arms and gestured to the room with its Parisian décor and happy customers.

The rich scent of coffee hovered in the air.

“Thanks,” Jung said. “Speaking of work, I’d better get back in the kitchen.” He hurried off without a backward glance.

Heather curled her legs beneath her body and wrapped the thin blanket around her torso. Dave snored on the sofa beside her, in his favorite spot, as usual, though the TV blared a documentary in the background.

Killer whales surrounded a patch of ice in the ocean. A seal lay atop it. The natural showdown had begun.

“Uh oh, this won’t end well for Mr. Seal,” Heather muttered.

She’d decided to spend the evening relaxing, rather than studying for her diploma because tomorrow was ‘leg day’ – whatever that meant. Amy had shrieked her excitement over the phone.

‘Leg day’ equaled a lot of spinning classes or squats or… ugh, too many exercises Heather couldn’t envision enjoying. They sounded bad for the knees.

The front door slammed, and keys jingled in the hallways. “Honey, I’m home,” Ryan called, weariness in his tone.

“How very suburban of you,” Heather said, then shuffled to the edge of the sofa, stretched her legs and hopped off.

“I don’t feel very suburban. I feel like a bag of exhaustion. And that’s the best metaphor I could summon,” Ryan replied.

Heather hurried into the hall. She wrapped her arms around Ryan’s neck, then pecked him on the lips. “What happened?”

“Ugh, just a rough day. Another murder.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. “And you’ll never guess who it is, this time.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Let’s sit down for it,” Ryan replied. He led her into the living room, then grabbed the remote off the coffee table and muted the documentary. “Killer whales can wait, my love.”

“I bet they won’t wait for long,” Heather said, eying the poor seal, which had managed to shimmy back along the ice in the interim.

Ryan sat down on the sofa and stroked Dave between the ears. The doggy dearest snuffled but didn’t open his eyes.

Heather sat next to her husband and placed her hand on his knee. “Don’t draw this out any longer. The suspense is unbearable.”

“Randy Morton is dead. We found him in his kitchen.”

Heather’s jaw dropped and her pulse skyrocketed. “Are you serious? Randy? The Randy? Hamburger Bar Randy?” 

“That’s right,” Ryan replied. “And the evidence in this one is all whacked out. I’ve gotta say. I’m happy they suspended Davidson because he would’ve had a field day messing up this one.”

“Gosh, I’m intrigued now.” Heather crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. She could barely sit still. Poor Randy. She hadn’t been close with him, but this would affect Jung. He’d probably have to take time off work to recover. Ugh, she hated it when her employees were in any form of distress.

“Get this; Randy was strangled to death. He also had a half-eaten donut in his mouth –”

“Oh no, not this again,” Heather said.

“Don’t worry. You’re already clear. The approximate time of death was when we were asleep, in bed. You’ve got your alibi, right here. I was with you.”

“Thank goodness, because I can’t handle another investigation on top of everything else, right now.” The business had exceeded her expectations, and she had another test the following week. Add in the whole ‘gym experience’ starting up, and she had a full donut tray.

“Here’s the weirdest part of all. We found rat droppings on Randy’s chef’s whites.”

“What?” Heather sniffed.

“Rat droppings,” Ryan repeated.

“Rat droppings.”

“Yeah, you know, rat poop.”

Heather burst out laughing in spite of the dire news. “I know what rat droppings are, love. I’m just shocked. I bet the health inspector would’ve picked up traces of that and shut down the restaurant if they’d had a problem.”

“Yeah, I still have to investigate the leads. I just needed to get some sleep first.” Ryan licked his lips and stared at the killer whale feeding frenzy on the screen. He grimaced at the ignoble creatures. “I have something else to tell you. And something to ask you too.”

“What is it? Ask me anything.” Heather squeezed his knee.

“Jung is the main suspect in this case,” Ryan said. He held up his palms to forestall any complaints. “After the argument last night and the evidence that’s come to light, yeah, it’s him right now. I’m sorry.”

“No, never Jung. Never. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Heather knew Jung. She’d worked with him for ages, now. The man had helped build her business from the ground up, for heaven’s sake.

“Look, I shouldn’t even be telling you this, love. I just know you’d find out on your own. Which leads me to my next point,” Ryan said, pausing to pat Dave on the back this time.

“You don’t want me to investigate. I get it.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. Let’s just say. I know you’re going to try to investigate, and I know you’ll probably have a lot of information for me, as a result.”

“Right?” Heather drew out the word. What did Ryan mean?

“I don’t want to know that you’re investigating. But if you happen to hear a rumor and want to discuss it with me, I won’t say no.” Her husband reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Discreet?” Heather asked.

“That’s a good way to put it.” Ryan’s jaw creaked with another yawn. “I only say this because Jung’s involved and I’m leading this case again. I know you’re not going to let this lie.”

Heather shrugged and turned her attention back to the blue waters on their TV screen.

“You know me too well,” she replied.

Jung was innocent. And Heather would help prove that before the case closed. Where to start, though?

The police would be all over her assistant tomorrow, interviewing and doing what they did best. Which left her with one option. And the perfect excuse to get out of her morning gym session with Amy.

“Perfect,” Heather muttered.

Ryan didn’t comment. She glanced back at him and chuckled. His head rested against the sofa cushion, tilted ever so slightly to one side, eyes closed.

Like it or not, Detective Shepherd wouldn’t see the end of this case without sufficient help from his wife.

Heather hovered beneath the branches of a White Ash and glared at Randy’s Burger Bar across the road. Yellow police tape ran around the exterior of the building, but the cops were absent.

Ryan had leads to investigate, no doubt. Perhaps the forensics team hadn’t done their job yet.

Heather readjusted her grip on Dave’s leash and bit her bottom lip. “Here we are, Dave, old buddy, old pal.”

He looked back at her as if to say, “Who are you calling ‘old?'”

“Are you ready to investigate?” Heather asked, she stepped off the grass and onto the sidewalk, then paused.

A bright green van rattled down the road, then came to a stop in front of the restaurant’s glass front.

Dave barked once.

Heather frowned and smiled at the same time, emotions flickering between confusion and mirth.

The giant metal bug perched on top of the van wiggled, antennae pointing in opposite directions. Bold lettering spelled out a name along the side:

Bob’s Bug Debunkers

“This,” Heather said, “should be interesting.” She looked up and down the road, no more cars in evidence, then hurried across it and came to a halt in front of the van.

Dave kept a relaxed pace, though he whined a bit along the way. How very Dave of him to moan about a light jog. Then again, Heather couldn’t comment – she’d skipped out on Amy’s ‘leg day,' excuse the pun.

Heather peeked around the front of the van.

Bob himself stood staring at the police line, scratching his head. He mouthed the words ‘do not cross’ and scratched some more. “Well, ain't that a kick in the hide.”

“Hello,” Heather said.

Bob dropped his clipboard and shrieked like a little girl. He turned to her, and the scream died on his lips. He coughed, spluttered then bent to snatch his notes off the ground.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Heather asked, and pulled a face.

“Nope,” Bob replied. “I usually scream at strangers for no reason.”

Heather laughed, and Dave took to sniffing at the new guy’s ankles. Bob didn’t mind. The corners of his lips twitched into a smile.

“Are you here for a reason?” Heather asked though it was probably another silly question given the circumstances.

“Yep, yep, yep,” Bob said. He flipped a paper on his clipboard and traced his finger along it. “I’m here for a job. Got complaints about rats in this buildings. Guy by the name of Randy Morton hired me to get rid of ‘em.” Bob sniffed, then wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Maybe I’m early.”

His gaze danced along the yellow tape.

“You haven’t heard,” Heather stated. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but Randy’s dead. He was murdered yesterday.”

“No way.” Bob frowned at his clipboard. “Good thing he paid his deposit.”

“Uh, I guess,” Heather replied. That was hardly the most sensitive response to hearing someone had been murdered.

“Guess there’s nothing else to do here, then. Unless you need something exterminated?” Bob asked, raising both eyebrows.

Heather wasn’t one to crush people’s hopes, but Donut Delights was rodent and pest free and would stay that way. “No, but, hey, wait a second.”

Bob froze, fingers gripping the handle to his truck’s lurid green door. “Yeah?”

“Did you say that you were here to exterminate rats?”

“Yeah,” Bob replied and gestured with the clipboard. “Guy called me a couple of days ago, freaking out about them. He tried to bully me down on my price too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, he said he could find a guy to do it for less. So I said, go ahead, right? I know I’m the only person in Hillside who does exterminations. And the way he was talking, it was like, the rat apocalypse had arrived in his storage room. Wouldn’t stop yelling about it.” Bob sighed. “Guess his rat problems are over, am I right?”

Heather nodded. Dave barked to answer for her.

“I’ve gotta get going. These bugs don’t kill themselves. Got a termite infestation a couple of blocks over,” Bob said. His car door thumped open, and he clambered into the cab. He started the engine and waved at Heather. “You be careful down here. Never know what kinda weirdoes you find out here.”

Then he roared off down the road in his bug-festooned truck, the antenna wiggling in the breeze.

“Oh the irony,” Heather whispered. She fanned her cheeks and turned her attention to the front of the store instead.

Quiet reigned. A gentle breeze rattled the front windows of the restaurant.

“Shall we?” Heather asked. She led Dave around the side of the building, into the small, dirty alley between the restaurant and what appeared to be an apartment building beside it.

Dave whined again.

“You never stop complaining,” Heather said and sighed. “We’re just checking it out.” The longer she stayed out here, the better. Amy hadn’t finished her ‘leg day’ workout yet.

They hurried down the alley and around the back of the building and met an overflowing dumpster and the shabby back door of Randy’s Burger Bar.

Heather narrowed her eyes at the jamb, then leaned in. “It looks like it’s been forced,” she mumbled.

Splinters of wood had torn free from the doorjamb and the varnished door. Heather scratched her temple. What did it mean? Could the murderer have come through this entrance?

And why had Randy left his restaurant in a state of disrepair?