Raspberry Mojito Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 20 (4 page)

Amy scooched her chair closer to
Heather’s dressing table and squinted at the screen. “No jokes, I think I need
to get reading glasses. I’m not getting any younger. I swear my eyes are
starting to give out.”

Heather cleared her throat and placed
the card on the wooden surface, just beside her laptop. “You don’t look a day
over thirty.”

“That’s because your eyesight is
getting worse too,” Amy replied.

Heather nudged her in the ribs, then
clicked on the Google Chrome icon on her desktop. The browser opened up on a Google
search bar. “What should we start with?” Heather asked, then picked up the card
and examined the writing on it. “Jeremy Hill?”

“Oh, come on, I’m dying to know what
Diaper Pop is. Aren’t you?” Amy dragged the laptop toward herself and typed the
words into the search bar.

“Honestly? I’m a little bit afraid to
find out. It sounds like some type of horribly flavored lollipop.” Heather
grimaced and shook her arms out.

Amy’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, it’s
worse than that,” she said and grabbed Heather’s arm.

“Worse than a poop flavored lollipop?
Amy, there’s nothing worse than that,” Heather said and studied the side of her
bestie’s face. “And frankly, I’m concerned you’d even suggest there is.”

“Shush, and focus.” Amy pointed at the
web page.

Heather turned her attention to the
laptop. The homepage of Jeremy Hill’s company, Diaper Pop, sat front and
center.

Two Diapers flashed on either side of
the site title and tagline.

Diaper POP!

The first diaper to pop off when it’s
time for a change.

“He can’t be serious,” Heather said,
in a monotone.

Amy giggled and read the follow-up
paragraph out loud. “Diaper POP! Is the new and improved solution to fit your
diaper changing needs. Have you ever walked into your baby’s bedroom after
their nap, only to find their diaper full and a diaper rash developing? Well,
with Diaper POP –”

“Do you have to shout the ‘pop’ part?”
Heather asked and inserted her pinky finger into her right ear. She wiggled it
up and down. “My eyesight’s failing, don’t add hearing to the list.”

“Rude,” Amy replied and rolled her
eyes. “Well, with Diaper pop – there is that better? With Diaper pop, you’ll
never have to deal with a nasty diaper rash again. Just strap on the diaper,
leave your baby to nap, and when you return, pop! The diaper’s already off.”

“That is just a shocking idea. Just
terrible,” Heather said. “Homes across America will be littered with nappies
and, well –”

“With Diaper pop, you can kiss
moisture and rashes goodbye. Call now to get a free sample,” Amy said.

“Wow.” Heather sat back. “I’ve seen
some pretty weird stuff in Hillside, especially for a small town, but this sure
takes the cake.”

“Takes the donut, you mean,” Amy
replied. She scratched the bridge of her nose and scanned the paragraph again.
“How does he not realize that this is a terrible idea? Surely, his wife
would’ve told him.”

“They don’t seem to talk much about
his business,” Heather replied.

She pushed up from her seat and strode
to her bed, then stared down at the plain white sheets. “That makes sense.”

“What does?” Amy asked, and clicked on
the mouse pad.

Heather turned back to her bestie.
“Think about it; Quick Paul Jackson was the kinda guy who set up Pyramid
Schemes, right?”

“Yeah,” Amy replied.

“I bet he was also the kind of guy who
loaned people money when they needed it. I’ll have to ask Ryan to look into
that for me, but I bet he ‘invested’ in businesses like Jeremy’s, only to
bankrupt them afterward.” Heather walked to the window and stared out at the clouded
night sky.

A lone car drove down the road and
past the front of her house. She froze. A white car? No, no, just a regular old
silver Honda. She had to let go of that fear.

“Boy, Jeremy dodged a bullet missing
out on that meeting, then.”

“Or did he? What if Jeremy already had
some kind of shady deal with Quick Paul that went sour?” Heather asked. “And
Jeremy got mad and decided to get rid of Paul.”

Amy typed something into the search
bar, and Heather turned back to the computer.

“Look at this. You might just be
right, Mrs. Sleuth Extraordinaire,” Amy said and pointed at the screen. “A
picture of Jeremy and an article about Diaper Pop.”

Heather walked to the laptop and sat
down to read.

Diaper Pop entrepreneur, Jeremy Hill,
is determined to revolutionize the diaper industry with his new line of diapers
which pop off once filled.

“I’ve never met a man who comes up
with such brilliant business ideas,” Paul Jackson says, “I’m proud to be his
partner.”

“Whoa,” Heather said. “Partner. So,
Jeremy lied. He did have dealings with Quick Paul, and that means he has a
pretty solid motive.” She sat down beside her bestie and scanned the article,
which carried a date from two months prior. “Things aren’t looking good for
Jeremy Hill.”

“My son, the entrepreneur. I couldn’t
be more proud,” says Peter Hill, Jeremy’s father. The efficacy of the diapers
has yet to be tested as of the date of this article. Updates to follow.

But there weren’t any updates. Did
that mean the diapers still hadn’t been tested?

“I think he’s our guy,” Amy said and
tapped the screen. “Remember how shifty he was when we interviewed him?
Couldn’t have acted more guilty.”

“I don’t know,” Heather replied.
“Something’s missing. I don’t know whether it’s evidence or something else, but
I need to speak to Ryan about this before we jump to any conclusions.”

“Whatever you say, hon, you’re the
sleuth,” Amy replied. “Are we done now? Let’s make those donuts. I’m starving.”

“Ever the healthy eater.” Heather
clapped her bestie on the back, then led the way down to the kitchen, her mind
ablaze with possibilities.

Ryan placed the dish in front of
Heather on their tiny kitchen table, then sat down opposite her. “I did my
best,” he said.

Heather stared at her plate, both
eyebrows raised. “You outdid yourself, love. This looks amazing.”

Lasagna sat in the center of the
plate, just enough melted cheese on the top and oozing creamy béchamel. A small
side salad, complete with feta cheese and Kalamata Olives garnished the plate.

Ryan poured her a single glass of
merlot, then placed the bottle to one side. “I figured we never eat in anymore.
And it’s been a while since I took a shot at it. Enjoy.”

Heather cut off a piece of lasagna,
speared it with her fork and deposited it into her mouth. Flavors washed over
her. She shut her eyes for a moment and appreciated them.

The tang of fresh tomato, creamy white
sauce, oh boy, the noodles cooked to perf
ection. She
swallowed and opened her eyes again. Ryan grinned at her.

“Remember?” He asked.

“I remember,” she whispered, then
reached out and squeezed his hand.

He raised his glass, and she followed
his lead.

“To us,” he said.

“To us,” she echoed his sentiment.
They clinked their glasses together, then each took a measured sip and
swallowed.

Heather tucked into her food and lost
herself for a few minutes.

“Hon?” Ryan’s voice cut through her
flavor reverie.

“Yeah?” She put her fork down and
smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m just in such a happy place right now. I haven’t
relaxed like this in months, not since before the wedding.”

“Things have been a little crazy
lately. It’s good to take some time off from it all,” Ryan said and gobbled
down a piece of feta cheese.

Heather nodded, then turned her fork
over, twice. “Is it a bad thing that I wanted to talk about the case? I just
found out something really interesting.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Ryan said and
exhaled. “I’ve got something interesting to share with you too. I just didn’t
want to ruin the mood.”

“You couldn’t if you tried,” Heather
replied.

“Wait right here.” Ryan bounced up
from his seat, then tossed his napkin beside his plate and hurried from the
kitchen.

Dave padded into the kitchen, and his
nails clicked on the tiles. He sat down, scratched his side, and then eyed out
Heather’s plate.

“Ryan put some over there,” Heather
said and pointed to Dave’s doggy bowl in the corner. “You know we’d never let
you go without a treat, boy.”

Dave barked, wagged his tail, and then
waddled to his bowl in the corner. His girth certainly had expanded of late.
Perhaps, Lilly was right to take him on ‘brisk’ walks.

Ryan bustled back into the kitchen and
slapped a photo down on the table. “Take a look.”

Heather picked it up, then gasped.
“Quick Paul and…”

“Katie Hill.”

The grainy image showed Katie Hill
face-to-face with Quick Paul. Her finger jabbed his chest, and her gaze spat
fury at him. He smiled back at her.

“Turn it over,” Ryan said.

The back of the photo bore a
handwritten note in permanent marker.

THIS IS WHY YOU’RE IN TROUBLE, HILL.

Heather stared at the words for a
couple of seconds. “Where did you find this?”

“In Quick Paul’s apartment. Hoskins
found it. Tried to hide it from me, for whatever odd reason,” Ryan replied.
“But I got it. What do you think?”

“I think it makes sense given what I
just found out.” Or did it?

“What did you find out?” Ryan asked,
and sat down again. He picked up his knife and fork, then cut his lasagna into
several even pieces.

“That Quick Paul and Jeremy Hill were ‘partners.'
Though, I’m not sure how much of a partner Quick Paul was. I’m wondering
whether that wasn’t his term for ‘loan shark,’ if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get what you’re
saying,” Ryan replied, then fed himself a bit of lasagna.

“But what does Katie have to do with
it?” Heather mused. “I know for a fact she didn’t like him. She told me so.
Which leads me to believe that whatever business deal Jeremy and Paul might’ve
had, fell through or turned sour.”

Heather studied Katie’s expression.

“What gets me, is who even took this
photo?” Ryan asked. “Unless it was from a camera on a timer or Quick Paul had
an associate.”

“That makes sense. So, somehow, Katie
getting angry was a reason for Quick Paul to blackmail Jeremy. In trouble, huh,
Katie was the reason Jeremy was in trouble?” Heather placed the photo in the
center of the table, then picked up her knife and fork. “Now, that does confuse
me.”

“What if Mrs. Hill was angry about
whatever deal they had and went after Quick Paul for it?” Ryan asked.

“But this photo is prepared, it’s
staged. Which means either Katie frequently tried to assault Quick Paul or
Quick Paul –”

“Knew that Katie was coming.” Ryan
clicked his fingers. “What if Katie and Quick Paul were working together,
against Jeremy?”

Heather shook her head and ate an
olive. “No. Ugh, I don’t know. This is all muddled up. Katie loves her son to
bits. I could tell from the way she acted with him. I don’t think she’d do
anything to jeopardize that.”

Ryan finished another piece of lasagna,
then took a sip of wine. “We can’t be sure of that. We can’t be sure of
anything at this moment in time.”

“That’s what gets to me,” Heather
replied. “We need to know more.” She picked up the picture and examined it
again. “Most importantly, I need to speak to Katie about what’s going on in
this picture.”

“Good idea,” Ryan replied. “I’m going
to clear a few things up at the station tomorrow. Turns out, Davidson might
come back in a couple of weeks.”

Heather shook her head. “Davidson and
Hoskins, too? That’s going to be fun.”

Ryan raised his glass a second time.
“To persistence.”

“Ditto.”

Amy grasped the photo in her hand and
leaned against the side of the car. “That expression on her face,” she
whispered.

“Angry, right?” Heather asked, and
lifted the box of Raspberry Mojito Donuts from the passenger seat. She slammed
her car door shut, then locked it.

‘That expression is what my nightmares
are mad of,” Amy replied. “Seriously. She reminds me of a middle school teacher
we had. She was –”

“Miss Tunsten?” Heather asked.
“Squirrelly face and a mean attitude. I’ll never forget her.”

The front door of the Hill house
slammed open, and Katie charged onto the porch.

“School is in,” Amy muttered. “Quick,
give her the donuts.”

“Hello, Mrs. Hill,” Heather called up
to her, then crossed around to Amy’s side of the car and fumbled the photo out
of her bestie’s hands. She tucked it into the back pocket of her jeans.

“Get out of here,” she yelled, then
cleared her throat. She lowered her voice. “Kieran is sleeping. You need to
leave, now.”

“Mrs. Hill, Katie, we need to talk
about something,” Heather replied. She stepped onto the path and walked to the
front step of the house.

Katie Hill folded her arms. Her right
eye twitched. “If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops.”

“We brought you donuts,” Amy said and
peered around Heather at the furious woman on the porch. She was younger than
them by at least ten years, but she had the fury of who knew what inside her
soul.

Clearly, something had upset Katie
Hill.

A van pulled up behind them, and
Heather turned to the road.

Two burly men got out of the car and
walked up to the stairs. They pushed past Amy and Heather, then traipsed up the
stairs and into Katie’s home.

“What on earth?” Heather asked. “What
was that?”

“I told you to leave,” Katie said. She
stepped forward and slapped the Donut Delights box from Heather’s hand. It fell
to the floor and popped open. Two donuts rolled across the stones and into the
short-clipped grass of the garden.

“How dare you,” Amy said, and her
voice shook with intensity. “Heather spent hours planning and making those
donuts. No one else in Hillside has tasted them yet.”

Apart from Amy and Heather, of course.

“Can you explain this picture?”
Heather asked and whipped the photo from her pocket. She couldn’t waste any
more time on donuts and yelling. She had to get the answers she needed. “It
appears you lied to me about your relationship with Quick Paul Jackson.”

Katie grabbed the photo from Heather
and stared at it. She turned it over and blinked at the words scrawled across
the back. “Where did you get this?”

The burly guys in overalls carried a
TV out of the front door, and Heather and Amy leaped out of their path.

“Repossession?” Amy whispered.

Heather swallowed and focused on Katie
again. “That’s evidence, Mrs. Hill. I’d like it if you gave that back.”

“Where did you get this?” Katie
shrieked and wobbled the photo at her. “What are you doing taking photos of me?
You’re a creep. A stalker!” 

“First the donuts, now this. I can’t
deal,” Amy said and turned on her heel. She marched back to Heather’s car and
muttered under her breath.

“From the investigating officer in
Paul Jackson’s murder case. Kindly explain your relationship with him,” Heather
replied.

Katie sagged and braced herself on the
wooden balustrade. The picture shook in her grip. “I can’t believe this. After
everything, we’ve been through. After the years of Diapers and dreams. This is
what it’s come to.”

Diapers and dreams, now that was a
title she didn’t hear every day.

“Mrs. Hill –”

“Well, you know what? You can keep
your evidence. You can keep your town. And the banks can keep our possessions
if that’s what they want.” Katie paused and glared at the guys, on their way
back up the path. “All I care about is my family. My son.”

“Mrs. Hill, I didn’t mean to upset
you, but it’s imperative that you answer my questions, calmly. The sooner you
do that, the sooner I can leave you alone,” Heather replied.

She brought out her notepad and pen,
then scratched a line at the top of the page. Thank goodness, it worked. No
black ink disaster, today.

Katie straightened and glared at her.
She lifted the picture, then tore it in two. She threw the pieces at Heather.
“There. You can leave right now. You want me to answer your questions? Get a
warrant for my arrest.” Then she turned and charged back into the house.

The repo guys strode in after her,
probably to remove a stereo system, this time.

Heather bent and picked up the pieces
of the picture, then walked back down the garden path. She stopped in front of
her bestie.

Amy paced back and forth in front of
the car, cheeks redder than a raspberry jelly. “How dare she?!”

“She’s upset, hon. Her life is falling
apart around her ears. How would you react?” Heather asked.

“Better than that,” Amy snapped. She
sucked in a breath, then exhaled a chuckle. “Okay, that’s not true. When Kent
was attacked, I behaved like a total idiot.”

Heather’s cell buzzed in her pocket,
and she worked it out, then swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“Babe, it’s me,” Ryan said, and she
couldn’t place that tone. Not professional, but not entirely comfortable
either.

“Hey, what’s up?” Heather asked. Ryan
had the day off from work, and a night shift planned. She hadn’t expected to
hear from him this soon after leaving home.

“You need to come home. Now,” Ryan
replied.

Heather frowned and met her bestie’s
gaze. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Bill and Colleen are here. They want
to talk to us, together,” he replied.

“Do you know what it’s about?” Heather
asked, and her stomach sank into the bottoms of her shoes.

“Yeah,” Ryan replied. “It’s about
Lilly. Come quick.”