Sinister Sprinkles Part 5

'Unless everyone in town has snowmobiles, I've got a feeling it's going to be a slow morning," Emma said, stifling another yawn.

"If it is, you can take a nap in my office."

"Where, on your chair, or your tiny little desk? No, thanks. I'm calling the sofa by the front window."

I just shook my head and laughed as I walked through the kitchen doors to the front. It was still dark out, but there was reflected light from the moon illuminating the gray blanket of snow.

Not a soul was waiting to get in, which shouldn't have surprised me. It was still a few minutes until we were due to open, so I turned on the radio to see what Lester Moorefield was ranting about this morning.

His voice came in so clearly it was if he was in the kitchen with Emma, instead of in his studio on the outskirts of town.

"All of April Springs is buzzing about two things: the snow, and the a.s.sa.s.sination of Darlene Higgins. The police admit they're stymied in their investigation, but this reporter has learned that Darlene was not the intended victim at all. In a shocking, exclusive discovery, I have learned that the intended victim all along was none other than Muriel Stevens. Tune in for my nine o'clock broadcast to learn why, and more importantly, why no one in town is safe until the Christmas Killer is caught."

I turned it back off, sick of Lester's idle speculation and wild rambling. I had to admit that part of it was because he was right. I was jumping at shadows, and would keep doing it until the murderer was safely behind bars.

It was officially time to open, so I flipped the neon OPEN sign on, unlocked the door, and was nearly back to the kitchen when I heard a truck rumbling up Springs Drive. I peeked outside and saw a snowplow veering toward the lit sign of the shop.

Leaving the plow idling in the middle of the street in front of the donut shop, two men got out in heavy overalls and came in.

"Sorry about your floor," one of them said, a big man with a ready smile. Just behind him was a small, quiet man who barely made eye contact. The big man had his name st.i.tched on his overalls-the letters BOB written in swirling curly cues-while the other man had a much plainer EARL st.i.tched on his.

"That concrete has been there a hundred years. I don't think you could hurt it with a jackhammer. I thought you all were in Charlotte."

"We were," Bob said, "but the mayor pulled us off four hours ago. We had a devil of a time getting back though, didn't we, Earl?"

"Yep," his companion said.

"You got that right," Bob replied, slapping his smaller friend on the back.

Bob looked at the display cases behind me, then said, "How's about a pot of coffee and a dozen donuts, your choice."

"Is this order to go?" I asked.

"No, ma'am, I'm planning to eat them all right here." He turned to his friend and asked, "Earl, what are you having? That order was for me. You're on your own, bucko."

Earl just smiled, and Bob said, "I'm just teasing. He'll share my dozen, but you'd better bring him his own coffee. We've been up all night, and I don't figure we'll be getting to sleep anytime soon."

"Is that safe?" I asked as I poured them two coffees.

"Look at it this way. Who are we going to hit? It's not like we've been drinking. Nothing but coffee, anyway. n.o.body's parked on the road if they have any sense at all, so we should be fine."

I grabbed a good selection of donuts, and the two men sat down at the counter instead of taking one of the sofas near the window. From the looks of their overalls, I was infinitely glad of that. While the floors had been there forever and could take any mess they could throw at it, the couches and chairs were another matter altogether. At least there wasn't much damage they could do to the vinyl stools.

Earl managed to eat more donuts than Bob, something I never would have believed if I hadn't seen it for myself.

When they were finished, Bob threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter and said, "Keep the change. We'll be back later for more."

"That's too much of a tip," I said. These men worked hard for their money, and I didn't want to take advantage of them, though I normally never protested when someone decided to leave us a tip, no matter what the size.

"Ma'am, seeing your light on was worth fifty, so in a way, we're robbing you." He slapped his coworker on the back, and for a second, I thought Earl was going down from the force of the blow, but he managed to right himself at the last second.

Bob asked him, "You ready?"

Earl nodded, and after they were gone, I realized the entire time he'd been there, he'd only said one word.

Emma came out from the kitchen with a dishtowel in her hands. "Was it my imagination, or did I hear voices out here?"

"We had our first two customers," I said. "Would you do me a favor and grab the mop?" The floor was puddled in places where they'd walked, and I wanted to get it all up before someone else came in and slipped. A lawsuit was the last thing I needed.

"We should put newspapers down on the floor," Emma said as she retrieved the mop.

I took it from her, then asked, "Do you really think they'd help?"

"Can it hurt?"

"I guess not." After the floor was dry, we laid a line of papers from the door to the display counter, before running out of newspaper.

"That's going to have to do," I said.

Outside, the plow was going up and down Springs Drive, knocking the snow cover into two walls of packed ice and snow on either side of the road. How could anyone get into my parking area with that wall blocking them? As I thought about it, the plow swung around, knocked the wall of snow down going into my parking area, and managed to plow it as well, though I don't know how they were able to do it on such a tight radius. After that, they cleared the s.p.a.ces open in front of my shop as well. I smiled when I realized I was the only one on Springs Drive who got that particular service. I didn't care how much they protested, the next round of coffee and donuts was going to be on the house.

As soon as they vanished up the road, a middle-aged man bundled up in a heavy jacket came in, shaking the snow from his dress boots once he was inside. When he took his hat off, I saw that his head was shaved, and he'd tried to make up for it with the bus.h.i.+est black eyebrows I'd ever seen in my life.

"Would you like some coffee?" I asked.

"Yes, thank you. That would be great."

I poured him a cup, offered a donut, which he declined, then said, "You're a brave soul, coming out on a morning like this."

"I'm in town because of the murder at the carnival yesterday. Do you know anything about it?"

I said, "Sorry, I just heard what everybody else has."

He took a sip of coffee, and then asked, "And what exactly is that, if you don't mind telling me? I really would like to know what folks around town are saying about it."

I shrugged. What could it hurt? "A woman named Darlene Higgins was dressed up like another resident, Muriel Stevens, and someone killed her, probably by mistake."

"Is that what the police think?" he asked after taking another sip of coffee.

"That I couldn't tell you. Now, do you mind me asking you a question?"

"Go right ahead," he said.

"If you're not with the police, why are you asking so many questions? Are you some kind of reporter?"

He frowned. "Sorry, I should have introduced myself first thing. I'm Taylor Higgins. I was Darlene's first cousin. Her last one too, I guess. There was just the two of us left out of the whole brood."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said.

He nodded, and I could see his eyes start to well up with tears, though he shook them off. "Thank you for that. We were kind of close, so this has been tough to take. It was bad enough thinking someone killed her on purpose, but to die like that by accident? That's just terrible."

"I don't know if it's true or not," I said. "It's just what some folks are saying."

"They probably know more than the police do," he said. He finished his coffee, threw a pair of dollar bills on the counter, then said, "I knew it would be hard coming here, but I'm just having a tough time believing she's gone."

"Again, I'm sorry about what happened," I said.

He waved a hand in the air, and then walked back out into the snow.

By six-thirty, we hadn't had another customer.

Emma poked her head out of the kitchen. "I just finished the dishes we've got so far. Can I grab a couch and take a nap?"

"I don't see why not," I said.

She smiled, threw her ap.r.o.n on the counter, and then headed for one of the couches in front of the donut shop. Emma had barely settled in when George came in, sporting heavily layered clothes and rosy cheeks.

"Have you been out in the snow all morning?" I asked as he started shedding layers.

"It's kind of habit-forming, you know?"

"I don't see how," I said.

George sniffed the air, then he asked, "Is there any chance there's fresh coffee?"

"You've got it. How about some donuts, too?"

"I might be able to handle a pumpkin one or two," he admitted.

Emma grabbed her ap.r.o.n. "I'll get your order," she said.

"Stay there, I've got it covered."

She nodded her thanks, and I got George a fresh mug of coffee and two pumpkin donuts, one of his favorite flavors.

As he took a great gulp, I asked, "Isn't your friend going to miss his transportation on a day made for it?"

"No, he told me I could use it as long as I wanted. I took it back to him an hour ago, but he'd never ridden it before, so he asked me to take him for a ride around town so he could get used to it. He hated it, can you imagine that?"

"It's not everyone's cup of tea," I said.

"I loved it," Emma said.

George tipped his mug to her before taking another sip.

I realized we were getting low on coffee. As I turned away from the front door to start another pot, it chimed again. I was getting more customers than I'd ever imagined.

Then I looked back and saw Chief Martin coming in. The moment I saw his face, I realized I might have been better off staying home today after all.

"Suzanne, I need to talk to you," the chief said.

Before I could answer, George asked, "What's this about?"

I cut him off before he could do any more damage to his relations.h.i.+p with the police chief and said, "I'd be glad to help if I can, Chief. You know me, I'm always happy to cooperate."

He looked at me skeptically as George said, "Suzanne, you're under no obligation to talk to him, you know that, don't you?"

"I know that," I said as I touched his arm lightly. "And believe me, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I really do want to help if I can."

He shrugged. "It's your call, but I'd like to hang around while you talk to him."

I nodded. "It's okay with me. How about you, Chief?"

He frowned, then agreed. "Suit yourself, Suzanne. I need to know where your ex-husband is."

The question caught me completely off guard, since I'd been expecting him to ask me about my own alibi. "How on earth should I know that?"

"He's not at his apartment, and no one's seen him after our conversation here yesterday."

"I have no idea where he went, and that's the truth. It used to be my job to know where Max was all of the time, but I quit, remember? There was no future in it. Sorry I can't help you."

He ignored me, and then looked at George and Emma. "Anyone else see him since yesterday afternoon?"

Neither one of them said anything. The chief bit his lip before he turned back to me. "There's something else I need to ask you."

"Go ahead."

"When I left here, I went to Muriel Stevens's house. She wasn't there. Then when I checked back this morning, her place was still deserted."

"Maybe they ran away together," Emma said, not taking the query seriously at all.

"I kind of doubt that," the chief said. "Have you seen her lately, Suzanne?"

"Muriel's never had a donut in her life, to my knowledge. The woman's a fanatic about what she eats." I suddenly realized what I was saying in my own shop, and added, "Not that my donuts aren't wonderful."

I knew that my donuts weren't exactly health food, but they were good for low spirits, or for folks who wanted to indulge a little. And shouldn't they be able to? I considered what I offered the public a treat, one of those nice little things that made life worth living.

"Spare me the advertis.e.m.e.nt," he said. "I'm just concerned about Muriel."

"And not Max?" I asked.

"Him, too," the chief said. He looked frazzled, and I knew that two disappearances and a murder were stretching him beyond his usual resources.

"Are you going to call Jake?" I hated the reason for having to make the call, but it would be wonderful to see my boyfriend back in April Springs.