Fatally Frosted (12 page)

After the proofing, it was time to add the donut rounds—eighteen at a time—to the fryer. Forty-five seconds per side, and they were ready to drain and glaze. The donut holes went in for their hot bath next, and while they were frying, Emma took a bread pan and scooped out enough glaze to drench the yeast donuts. The excess ran down the slope back into the pool, and she moved the finished donuts to display trays and put them in the holding rack, just as I dumped out donut holes on the cooling rack so she could repeat the process with them. The specialty items went into the hot oil next, a continuous process of frying, glazing, and traying up. There wasn’t a lot of time to chat when we were working at this stage, but as soon as we had the front display cases stocked, we could take a breath, clean up a little before it was time to open, and take a well-deserved break. A lot went into making donuts, and not many folks knew just how much effort we put into producing each one. I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to me was that they enjoyed eating them, and I knew from the satisfied smiles that they did.

We were cleaning up some of the racks in back when Emma glanced at the clock. “It’s just about time to open.”

I shrugged. “Do you honestly think we’ll have any customers?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I have faith in our friends.”

“That makes one of us,” I said as I finally got up the nerve to peek outside. To my surprise, there was
a line of people standing in the rain, all sporting umbrellas and waiting to get in.

I told Emma, “You’re not going to believe this. Come look.”

My assistant looked as though she wanted to cry. “Okay, I’m sorry. I was putting a brave front on for you. Don’t worry, Suzanne. Business will pick up.”

“I hope not,” I said. “If it does, I’m going to have to hire somebody else.”

Emma looked thoroughly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Come look.”

She walked through the door with me, and saw the masses waiting to get in.

Emma stared at me and said, “I can’t believe it.”

“Well, you’d better. I’m going to unlock the door, so you should get ready for a hard morning.”

“There’s nothing I’d like better,” she said as she took a place behind the counter.

When I opened the door to let my customers inside, each one had a kind word for me as they entered.

George was just about the last one in.

As he stepped in and put his hat into his pocket, I asked, “Did you have something to do with this?”

George said, “Hey, you’ve got more than me as a friend.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed him or not, but I said, “Thanks for coming, and for believing in me.”

As he slipped into the last open booth, I hurried back to help Emma. The display of affection I was
receiving was more valuable to me than all of the money in the world. The only real currency I counted was friendship, and from what I was seeing at that moment, I was one of the richest women in all of North Carolina.

These are a nice change of pace from regular donuts. They have a different, almost cake-like texture, and if you use your ravioli cutter to make whole rounds, they puff up nicely for any fillings you might like.

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• 2 teaspoons baking powder

• 2 teaspoons nutmeg or cinnamon

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 2 tablespoons canola oil

• ½ cup water

Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together, then add the oil and water to the bowl, mixing it all together well. Take the dough out and knead it lightly, then place the dough in a buttered bowl, cover, and set aside in a warm place for about an hour. Roll the
dough out to 1/8 to ¼ inch and cut into any shape you’d like. We like round shapes, but diamonds and squares around 2 inches each side work just as well.

Fry these until golden brown, turning them halfway to cook both sides.

Drain and dust your treats with powdered sugar, and they’re ready to eat.

Yield: 8–14 depending on size

By eleven, we were completely sold out, something that had never happened in all the time I’d owned Donut Hearts. I’d sent Emma home for a well-deserved rest ten minutes before we were due to close. She’d earned the time off. George had left with a promise to return later, but I wasn’t going to wait around for him. I had a suspect to interview, and I’d been thinking about what I was going to say to Burt Gentry all morning. I just hoped the hardware store owner had some answers for me. I had about an hour before I had to catch up with Heather to start working on Peg’s place, and I planned to take advantage of it while I could. It was hard to tell how long I’d be there that evening.

I was just showing the last customer out the door when a man barged through the open door.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” I told him.

“This will just take a second,” he said as he brushed past me.

I was getting ready to tell him that we were out of donuts when he tapped on the window, which had our hours posted. “I’ve got an hour left, anyway. Does the owner know you’re closing up early?”

“She’s got a pretty good idea about what’s going on,” I said.

He smiled at me. “I doubt she knows what time you’re locking up. Don’t worry, I won’t tell her you’re bugging out early. I need three donuts, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.”

He looked at the empty display cases behind the register for the first time. “You’ve got to have something in back.”

“No, like I said, we’re closed. We just sold out of everything.”

The man shook his head. “I don’t see how this place stays in business if there isn’t enough stuff to sell to customers.”

I leaned over and said, “The woman who owns this shop is an eccentric old bird. She likes fresh donuts every morning with her coffee, and anything else we sell is just icing on the cake as far as she’s concerned.”

He shook his head as he started for the door. “If I live to be a thousand, I’ll never understand life in a small town.”

“I’m willing to bet you didn’t grow up in one, did you?”

“No, ma’am. I’m from Chicago.”

“Tell you what, Chicago. Come back tomorrow, and your first donut’s on the house. How’s that for small-town charm?”

“Aren’t you afraid your boss will fire you for giving out free stuff?”

I smiled at him. “No, she can’t live without me. See you tomorrow.”

“If I’m still in town, I’ll take you up on it,” he said with a smile as he left.

I hastily scrawled a note on the front door that told any more customers that we’d closed early, then started off for the hardware store. It was time to speak with Burt and find out what he had to say about his clandestine relationship with Peg Masterson.

“Is Burt around?” I asked a clerk as I walked into Gentry Mercantile & Hardware. The building was ancient, sporting weathered bricks outside and scarred wooden floors within, everything testifying to over a hundred years of service. Besides a typical hardware store’s usual fare of items for sale like bins of nuts and bolts, metal baskets brimming with nails, and garden tools hung like stockings at Christmas, Burt also catered to a clientele that liked model trains, dollhouses, and hobby kits for just about every kind of enthusiast that existed. It was the most eclectic place I’d ever been in my life, and I usually reveled in the chance to visit it, but today was lacking any real joy.

“He’s back in his office, Suzanne,” the young man said. It took me a second to recognize him.

“Pete? I thought you were still in school.” Pete Evans was a tall, gangly blond, though he was finally starting to fill out.

“No, ma’am. I graduated in June, and started work here full-time a week later.”

“How are your folks?”

“They’re fine. I’ll tell them you asked about them.”

“Please do,” I said. “I’ll see you later.”

As I walked back to Burt’s office, I marveled at
how time seemed to fly by. With every year I got older, the speed seemed to increase, and I wondered how it would feel in twenty or thirty years. I could remember Pete playing one of the shepherds in the town’s Nativity Scene the year they’d decided to use real animals. The donkey had taken off in the middle of the play, and the sheep, being true to their nature, had followed suit. There was a mad rush to corral them all, but by the time they were gathered together again, the players rushed through an abbreviated version of the approved script, and everyone met in the basement of City Hall for hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.

Had that really been six years ago?

I tried to clear my mind of those images from the past and focus on the present. I needed to talk to Burt, not as an old friend, but as a man who just might have committed murder, though I still couldn’t bring myself to believe it.

“Burt, do you have a second?” I asked as I leaned in through his open office door. Burt Gentry was nearing sixty, and his thick red hair was clearly still a source of pride to him. Burt was still a handsome man, and from some old photos he had posted in his office, he’d been a real heartbreaker back in his youth.

“Suzanne, what brings you by? You didn’t close the donut shop early just to talk to me, did you?”

“No, believe it or not, I sold out my entire stock today.”

He grinned as he leaned back in his chair, an old wooden roller with arms that bore the scars of its years. “I wish I could pull that off. I’d be on the next
plane headed for the Florida Keys if I could clear my inventory.”

“Really? You don’t seem the type to just pick up and go,” I said.

“The wanderlust bug bites me every now and then, but I can’t imagine living anywhere but our little part of North Carolina.”

“I can’t either. Even when bad things happen here.”

Burt sat back up in his chair. “That’s a pretty awkward segue into what happened, isn’t it? I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“You knew each other pretty well, from what I’ve heard around town,” I said, carefully studying his expression as I spoke. If he was hiding something, though, I couldn’t see it.

He chuckled softly. “Folks like to talk, don’t they?”

“Is it true? Did she break up with you recently?”

That got his attention. “Is that what they’re saying? I shouldn’t be surprised. The rumor mill never was more than half right on its best day.”

“What’s the truth, then?”

Burt rubbed his forehead, then asked gently, “Why are you so concerned about it? It doesn’t really involve you, does it?”

Though his words were spoken softly, there was an underlying edge to them, not of anger or guilt, but of animosity.

“She was killed with one of my donuts,” I said. “I’ve got a stake in this if I’m going to clear my name and save my business.”

“I thought you said you sold out today,” he said as he played with a bit of raw copper no bigger than a
quarter that was sitting on his desk. “Business couldn’t have been hurt that much.”

I shrugged. “That’s today, when my friends came out in force to support me, but what happens tomorrow, or the next day? Where am I going to be if this doesn’t get wrapped up quickly? I can’t afford to wait for the police to solve it.”

Burt nodded, his gaze still drawn to the copper. “How about your young man? I understand he came back to town yesterday. Surely he’s doing his best to clear you of suspicion.”

Burt had somehow managed to shift the conversation from himself to me, and it was time to turn it back.

I decided to ignore the statement. “Which part of the town gossip isn’t true, then? Did you break up with Peg, or were you even dating?”

Burt shook his head. “I never cared for that word, dating. It doesn’t seem to fit two seniors spending time together, does it? Peg and I had been seeing each other, though it was all quite casual. It ended amicably enough, though.”

“What happened?”

For a second, it appeared as though he wasn’t going to answer the question, but after a moment, he said, “I met someone else, and that was that.”

“Who was it?”

Burt shook his head. “Suzanne, I’m not the type of man to kiss and tell. I never have been, and I’m not about to start now.”

“All I’m looking for is a name,” I said, pressing him a little harder than I liked.

“Well, you’re not going to get it from me,” he said
as he stood. The genial old man I’d known so many years was gone completely now. I’d somehow made him mad enough to drop his “aw shucks” demeanor.

It was pretty clear the interview was over, and I was about to leave when Pete came back to the office. “Burt, Marge is on the phone. She wants to know if you’re still coming over for dinner tonight.”

Burt looked mad enough to spit nails. “Pete, who’s at the front register?”

“I am,” the young man said.

“Really? Cause it looks to me like you’re standing back in my office.”

“Sorry. I’ll get right back on it,” he said.

After Pete was gone, Burt looked at me and smiled a little. “I don’t suppose there’s a chance in the world you missed that, is there?”

“Sorry, I don’t want to get Pete in trouble, but it was kind of hard not to hear. Marge? Really?”

“She’s a fine woman, a nice person to spend some time with, and a pretty good cook. I make her laugh, so I bring something to the table myself. Suzanne, we’re in our sixties, we’re not dead.”

“I never said you were,” I said.

“Don’t bother her with your questions,” Burt said as we walked out of his office together. “She’s a little more sensitive than I am about being grilled about a murder.”

“I wasn’t grilling you,” I said hastily, though that was exactly what I had been doing.

He just laughed. “Then why do I feel like I’ve been under your microscope since you walked in? Let me put your mind at ease. I didn’t do it, and neither did Marge.”

“Thanks for your time,” I said as we reached the front door.

“So, I’m trusting you’ll drop this?”

I gave him my best smile. “There’s not a chance in the world of that happening, and you know it.”

Burt returned my grin with one of his own. “No, I didn’t figure there was. You always were a stubborn little girl.”