Donut Shop Mystery 25 - Devil's Food Defense Read Online Free Page A

he rubbed his hands together. He had a snaggletooth and a cowlick of black hair in front that looked to be untamable.
    “Sorry, but it’s just the one size tonight,” I said.
    “I’ll take two, then,” he said as he handed me a twenty-dollar bill. I filled his order and then started to make change. “You can keep that if you’ll give me a little information,” he said.
    “I’m not sure that there’s anything I can tell you that’s worth that much,” I said. The man was a puzzle for sure.
    “Do you happen to know a fellow around seventy with a faded scar on one cheek? He probably has a beard and shaggy long hair, and I imagine he’s quite a hermit. Does that ring any bells with you?”
    It was a fit description of Gray Vincent, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. There was something about him that I didn’t like from the very start, and I’d learned over the years to trust my gut. I made the change and started to hand it to him, but he made no effort to take it. “Sorry. I can’t imagine who you’re talking about.”
    He frowned for a moment before he hid it. “My mistake. I thought I saw an old friend of mine in town the other day, but now I can’t find him.”
    “What’s his name?” I asked as I held onto the change momentarily. “That could help.”
    “Thanks, anyway,” he said, blowing off my question and finally taking the offered change.
    The entire exchange had been odd, but I quickly forgot it as I got busy selling donuts, coffee, and hot chocolate from my cart. I was still busy peddling goodies as Gladys and George took the impromptu stage together, with my mother between them. Momma tapped the mic three times, and that managed to get most folks’ attention. She made a pair of quick introductions, and then she handed the microphone to the mayor. I continued working the crowd until Momma caught my eye. She was frowning at me, not that unusual a facial expression for her when it came to me, so I pulled the cart to the side and listened to George speak. After a few moments, he turned the mic over to Gladys, who spoke surprisingly eloquently about the Food Bank. I was proud of her for showing such poise under pressure. Hilda was by far the more outgoing of the two cooks Trish had on her staff, but Gladys was holding her own, maybe because she was so passionate about feeding those who couldn’t afford a decent meal. As she spoke, I searched the crowd. It was overwhelmingly full of familiar faces, though there were a few strangers present, though still no sign of Gray. It was beginning to get dark now, and as Gladys wrapped up her comments, a motion from the back right side of the crowd caught my eye. Gray Vincent settled down on a lawn chair off to one side, characteristically alone. Something was clearly bothering him, but as I started toward him to see if I could help, Momma took the mic back from Gladys and said with a flourish, “Without further ado, we present Dial M for Murder .”
    The sheet came off the temporary screen, and the movie began to play, projected from somewhere in back.
    I skirted toward the back of the crowd and pushed my cart over to where Gray was sitting, despite a few protests as I cut in front of a few of the viewers sitting even farther back.
    “Gray, are you okay?” I asked him in a whisper.
    “No, not really,” he said, clearly worried about something. “Suzanne, I’m in trouble. I know you’ve dug into people’s problems in the past. Would you and Grace be willing to help me?”
    “Of course we will,” I said, volunteering Grace’s assistance without having to ask her. “Can you at least give me a hint what it’s about?”
    “Now’s not the time. We’ll talk after the show,” he said.
    I wanted to push him a little harder, but this wasn’t the time or the place. After the show, we’d all have plenty of time to talk.
    For now, I needed to trade places with Emma back at the shop.
    I wasn’t sure how many donuts I’d managed to sell during