Raspberry Mojito Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 20 (2 page)

Quick Paul’s home was on the third
floor of a dingy apartment building in the center of town.

Heather traipsed up the carpeted
stairs, Ryan hot on her heels. The railing on the staircase peered at Heather
through the gloom, but she didn’t touch it. The place reeked of stale smoke and
another unsavory scent – Amy would’ve had a field day identifying it.

“Any other evidence so far?” Heather
asked.

“Nothing,” Ryan replied, and pointed
to the left on the landing. “This is our priority.”

Heather opened her mouth to reply,
then slammed it shut again.

Officer Hoskins stood at the end of
the hall, his bulk framed by an open doorway, and a grim smile twisted his
features. “Guess who’s back, boys?” He yelled over his shoulder.

Nobody answered him.

“Hoskins,” Heather replied, and bobbed
her head once. She hadn’t brought donuts to this investigation either.

He eyed her up and down. “Here to make
your womanly mark again?” Hoskins asked and folded his arms.

“Move out of our way,” Ryan replied.

Hoskins’ gaze flitted from Heather’s
face to her husband’s. His expression didn’t change a whit.  “You and your wife
like making your mark on –”

“Kindly stop saying that,” Heather
replied. “We’re not animals, and this is not your territory. Now, please move
out of the way.”

“You think that –”

Ryan clapped his hands and Hoskins
jumped. “I will report you to the captain for interfering with this
investigation. You’re already on your last warning, Hoskins. Don’t make this
any worse for yourself,” Officer Shepherd said.

She could only think of him like that
when he was in ‘professional mode.’

Hoskins opened his mouth, then slammed
it shut. His double chin wobbled from the force of the movement. He hesitated,
then stepped back from the doorway and disappeared into Quick Paul’s apartment.

“Are we going to have to deal with
that every time I come to do an investigation?” Heather asked.

“Probably,” Ryan replied. “Old Hoskins
isn’t one for change. Especially, not when it comes from a woman.”

“Well, that makes me like him even
more,” Heather said, and her voice dripped sarcasm.

She stepped over the threshold of
Quick Paul’s home and into… a trash compactor. Seriously, the place was a
festival of litter. Heather touched the tip of her nose. “That is, oh boy,
that’s just some kinda stench.”

“Yeah. Quick on the deal, old Paul,
but not so quick with the washing up.”

“Or the air freshener.” Heather waved
her hand in front of her nose.

Trash bags and papers littered the
beige carpet – it might’ve been white once – in Quick Paul’s apartment. The
kitchen led directly into the living room, and an open door beyond that showed
off a view of an equally dirty bedroom.

“My sleuthin’ senses are telling me to
check his bedroom, but my physical cues are telling me ‘run for your life’.”
Heather scratched her forehead. “Is it mean to assume that there might be some
dreaded disease lurking in there?”

“That’s not mean,” Ryan mumbled, and
rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “That’s just good sense.”

Heather squared her shoulders. “I’m
going in.”

She picked a path through the piles of
trash and shuffled past the coffee table. She reached the bedroom door, then
sucked in a deep breath. She dove into the darkened interior and fumbled for
the light switch.

“Ugh,” Heather whispered, then clicked
it on.

Bright light flooded the bedroom and
Heather blinked in a haze of shock. The bedroom was pretty clean.

The sheets were tussled, but Quick
Paul’s pale carpet was trash bag-free.

“Miracles do happen,” Heather
muttered. She hurried to the dresser in the corner and paused. A daily planner
lay on top of it, its leather cover worn at the corners.

Heather picked it up and flipped it
open, then rifled through to the month of September. “Here we go,” she muttered
and tapped the page. She traced the dates and pressed her lips together.

“What did you find?” Ryan asked,
behind her.

Heather jumped and grappled with the
book. She swallowed and turned to her husband. “That you could scare the jelly
out of a donut.” Heather’s eyes widened. Raspberry jelly in a donut.

That’d be the perfect flavor to go
with a minty donut base and –

“Hon? The book?” Ryan walked to her
side.

“Oh, right.” Heather concentrated on
the page again. “He had two appointments this week. One with a guy by the name
of Jeremy Hill.”

“Duly noted,” Ryan said and whipped
his notepad and ballpoint pen out of his top pocket.

The nib of the pen scratched across
the page.

“And,” Heather said, and ran her index
finger down the page. “Whoa.”

“What is it?” Ryan asked.

Heather tucked a laugh behind her
teeth. “Bob from Bob’s Bug Debunkers. This guy turns up everywhere. He’s worse
than Geoff Lawless.”

“Worse?”

“Just a turn of phrase. Geoff makes
everyone Hillside look innocent by comparison. And sane, for that matter. I
told you he stole donut crumbs out of my dumpster, once, right?” Heather shook
her head. She shut the daily planner, then handed it to her husband.

Ryan took it and tucked it under his
arm. “So, two this week.”

“Yeah, there were more on the pages
from the weeks prior,” Heather replied.

“I’ll follow those leads,” Ryan said.
“You follow up on Bob and Jeremy. How does that sound?”

Heather brushed her hand over her
hair. How did it sound? “Like the start of the beginning of a successfully
solved case.”

“I love how confident you’ve become,”
Ryan said, and a grin split his cheeks.

Hoskins cleared his throat from the
doorway. “Yeah,” he said and stared directly at Heather. “But there’s a
difference between being confident and arrogant.” He jabbed his finger in her
direction, then turned and shuffled back into the trash land that was Quick
Paul’s living room.

“Nice guy,” Heather said.

“I called ahead of time,” Heather
said. “Just in case.”

Amy got out of the passenger side of
the car, then bumped the door closed with her hip. “Why? Surprise
interrogations are always fun.”

“For you, maybe,” Heather replied. She
cleared her throat and looked up at the brick-faced building in front of them.

A house fitted with the perfect
wraparound porch, a lazy porch swing, and a well-maintained garden. Two
stories. Wind chimes hung under the eaves. Suburban perfection, just without
the picket fence.

Amy checked her watch, then tapped its
glass face. “It’s lunch time, Heather. Why is this guy home at lunch time?”

“Maybe he’s on vacation,” Heather
replied. “It’s not like we’re baking right now. Or creating donuts, for that
matter.”

“Ah, but we’re doing this.” Amy
pointed up at the house, then froze. She dipped her head and stared at her
shoes. “Uh, Heather? There’s a super angry looking woman standing on the
porch.”

“I see her.” Heather lifted a hand and
waved.

The woman didn’t wave back. Her
platinum blonde hair fountained from a ponytail on top of her head. Not at the
back, but right on top. Her lips drew into a thin line. “What do you want?” She
yelled from the porch.

“We’re off to a good start already,”
Amy muttered.

Heather grunted under her breath, then
strode up the garden path and stopped at the base of the stairs. “Hi,” she said
and risked a bright, customer-winning Donut Delights smile.

The blonde didn’t reply.

“I’m Heather Shepherd,” she said, and
the grin froze on her face. “I have an appointment with Mr. Jeremy Hill.”

The woman tapped the toe of her
sneaker on the wooden boards.

“Honey?” A man called out. “What’s
going on?” Jeremy Hill strode onto the porch and concern radiated from his
expression. He spotted Heather, then looked past her to Amy and back at his
wife.

“Katie,” he said.

Her lips tightened further. “Look,
more people to interfere in our lives,” she said, at last, in a light tone. The
pleasant timbre of her voice didn’t match the glare she laid on Heather.

“Momma!” A child, he had to be about
four, dashed out of the house and wrapped his arms around the woman’s legs.
Mrs. Hills legs. “Momma, I want more of the noodles.”

Katie’s body language changed,
instantly. Her frown slipped away, and she dropped to her knees beside the
little boy. “Okay, honey. What do you say?”

“Please,” he said and grinned at her.
“Please?”

“All right, Kieran,” Mrs. Hill said.
She hefted him into her arms – no mean feat, he wasn’t a small kid – and walked
toward the door. She paused and glanced back at her husband. “No more trouble,”
she said, then disappeared into the interior of the house.

Jeremy Hill’s cheeks colored and he
loosened the tie at his throat. “Sorry about that,” he said. “My wife is
protective of the family at the best of times.”

“Does that make this the worst of
times?” Amy asked. Astute as ever. Also, cheeky as ever.

Jeremy blinked at her, then wiped his
palm on the side of his tailored pants. He stuck it out and moved onto the top
step. “Jeremy Hill. You’re Mrs. Shepherd, I take it?”

“That’s correct,” Heather replied, and
shook his hand.

Jeremy nodded. “I don’t mean to be
rude. I’m just kinda wondering what this is all about. I’ve got quite a few
appointments to make this week.”

What on earth had Katie Hill meant
with that ‘no more trouble’ wise crack? Heather touched her fingers to her
lips. “I’m an investigator working as a consultant for Hillside PD.”

“Oh?” Jeremy swallowed reflexively.
“How can I help?”

Amy strolled up to the base of the
stairs and halted beside Heather.

“The victim was Paul Jackson. I
believe you knew him,” Heather said.

Jeremy gulped for a second time.

“Do you need some water or something?”
Amy asked.

“I’m fine,” he replied.

“Did you know Paul?” Heather asked,
and brought a notepad and pen out of her pocket.

Jeremy nodded a quick bob of his head
up and then down. “I did. I had a meeting with him this week, but I decided to
pull out of it.”

“I see,” Heather replied. “Was Paul
your business associate?”

“No,” Jeremy said, quickly. He glanced
back over his shoulder, then leaned in. “Look, my wife didn’t like the guys, so
can we make this quick? I don’t want to leave her waiting in there. We were
having lunch.”

“Of course,” Heather replied.

Amy snorted and folded her arms across
her chest. “Sorry, I, uh, must be all the pollen getting to my sinuses.”

“He wasn’t a business associate. He
had a few ideas I was interested in,” Jeremy said. He reached up and tugged on
his tie again. “But we never got around to doing anything together, you know?”

Heather made a note on her pad.

“Look, I can show you.” Jeremy fumbled
his cell out of his pocket and swiped his finger across the screen. A few taps
and then he lifted it. “See? I sent this to him a few days ago. Told him that
our meeting was off. He didn’t reply.”

Heather squinted at the message. It
checked out. Or, so far, his story checked out. “Where were you two days ago at
around 8 or 9 am in the morning?”

“At work,” Jeremy said, confidently.
“You can call my offices downtown if you need proof. We have security cameras
and everything.” He brought his card out of his pocket and handed it over.

Heather’s fingertips smoothed over the
vellum. “Thank you,” she said.

“Now, if that will be all, I have to
get back inside. My family is waiting.” Jeremy didn’t hang around for Heather’s
answer. He turned on the spot, then rushed back into his home and slammed the
door shut behind himself.

Heather snuggled up underneath her
blanket and stared at the image of Shrek on the screen. “Imagine a simple life,
like that,” she said and pointed at him.

“You call saving a princess from a
dragon, simple?” Amy shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth and chewed,
noisily. “What’s your definition of complicated?”

“Oh, I think you know the answer to
that,” Heather replied.

Lilly reached for a handful of
popcorn, then lifted her hand out of Dave’s reach. He snuffled around in her
lap and licked at the crumbs and kernels which she’d already dropped.

Lilly hadn’t laughed once the entire
evening and Shrek was one of her favorites. She sighed and chomped on another
mouthful of popcorn, then grabbed her milkshake off the coffee table and
slurped some up.

“Lils?” Heather moved to the edge of
her sofa cushion. “Are you okay?”

Lilly shrugged and put her glass down.
“Not really. I dunno. I’m worried, Au-Heather.”

“What are you worried about?” Amy
asked.

Heather’s stomach sank, and she
shifted her blanket aside. This had to be about the impending and highly
possible ‘move’ that Lilly’s foster parents intended to make.

Lilly chewed on her bottom lip, then
looked at the TV Screen. Donkey frolicked around in the forest.

“Lilly,” Heather said.

“I don’t want to move out of
Hillside,” she replied, at last.

Heather got up from her seat and
walked to Lilly, then lowered herself onto the cushions beside the young girl.
“Oh honey, nothing is certain yet. You shouldn’t worry yourself about this kind
of stuff.”

“I can’t help it. It’s all I think
about.” Lilly’s bottom lip trembled, and she bit it to get it to stop. “I don’t
want to go. This is the first time I’ve ever been happy in my entire life, and
now I might have to leave.”

“We won’t let you leave,” Amy
announced and put her finger up.

Heather shot her a look.

“What? Oh please, Heather, you and I
both know that this girl isn’t going anywhere.” She rubbed Lilly’s upper back
and patted her on the same spot. “Don’t worry about it, girl, we’ve got your
back.”

“Really?” Lilly asked, and she turned
those bright, brown eyes on Heather. “You mean it?”

Heather met her gaze. “Yeah,” she
said, after a second. “We mean it. Now, why don’t you hop along to the kitchen
and get us a refill on the popcorn? It looks like Amy’s been at it again.”

“Hey,” Amy said, “I’m not the only one
eating the stuff.”

Both Lilly and Heather rolled their
eyes at that reply. The girl jumped off the sofa and walked to the living room
doorway, Dave hot on her heels. Lilly’s footsteps faded down the hall.

Heather tapped her fingertips on her
knees. She turned on her bestie. “What’s gotten into you? You can’t give her
false hope like that. There’s no guarantee that even if we could do something, we’d
be able –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait.” Amy put up
her hands. “You’re telling me that if there’s the off-chance that you could
keep Lilly here, you won't go for it?”

“That’s not the point. It’s about
what’s best for her. Not what’s best for us.”

Amy chuckled. “That was such a mom
thing to say. Don’t you realize that you are what’s best for Lilly? You and
Ryan are more connected to her than Bill and Colleen ever were.”

Heather opened her mouth but slammed
it shut again. She couldn’t argue with that. Lilly had brought that point up
herself, in the past.

“Anyway, I get this is a rough topic,
but you’re seriously freaking out. What’s the matter?” Amy asked, and grabbed
Heather’s hand. She squeezed. “New case getting to you?”

Heather rose from the sofa and walked
to the curtains. She flicked one back and looked out on the quiet residential
street, lit by quaint lampposts. Stars twinkled in the inky black. A crescent
moon completed the night.

“I guess. I wouldn’t say it’s getting
to me, just that it’s on my mind. What a strange series of events. And a
strange list of suspects.”

“Jeremy Hill?” Amy grunted and shifted
on the sofa. “You can say that again. He was hiding something.”

Heather spun to face her bestie. “You
felt it too?” She picked up the remote and paused Shrek mid-barrel roll and
mayhem.

“Oh yeah. And what did his wife mean
‘no more trouble’? That was weird.” Amy flicked a blanket over her legs, then
grabbed a throw pillow and beat it with the sides of her hands. “She was super
hostile too. Like, too hostile unless she’d had some pretty bad experiences in
the past. Ooh! What if he cheated on her?”

“Not our business if he did. And that
doesn’t seem to relate to the case. No, I think their problems have to do with
Quick Paul. That’s what puzzles me. The connection. The fear.” Heather rubbed
her palms together to warm them up.

“So where to next?” Amy asked.

Heather tapped her chin, then pointed
at her bestie. “Oh, you’re gonna like it.”

“Uh oh, what do you mean by that?”

“We’re going to see Bob at the Bug
Debunker’s store.”

Amy grinned broadly. “Ah, Cheetos for
everyone!”

Heather chuckled and sat down on the
sofa. Lilly padded into the room, followed by Dave, and placed a bowl of
popcorn on the coffee table. “Extra butter,” she said and flourished her hands.

“Are you trying to make me fat, Lilly
Jones?” Amy asked.

The girl giggled and helped herself to
some of the buttery goodness.

Heather smiled at them, then lifted
the remote and played Shrek again. Action exploded on the screen, but Heather
didn’t focus on it.

Leads and possibilities clogged her
mind. A hazy fog to sleuth through.