Mint Chip Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 6 Read Online Free Page B

Heather said,
accepting the platter, “but she didn’t have to do that.  You’re an amazing
employee.  I’m lucky to have you.”
     
    Ken ducked his head and smiled.  “I
told her you knew how to bake,” he said, “but she insisted.”
     
    “I know how to make donuts,” Heather
said.  “I don’t know how to bake.  Big difference.”  She glanced at the front
counter and saw there was no line of customers waiting.  “Let’s take this into
my office, and everyone can have a piece.  Somebody grab napkins and a knife, will
you?”
     
    They all crowded into the office that
wasn’t really big enough for five people but somehow held them all.  Heather
cut slices of the coffee cake and passed them out.  When each of her employees
had one, she served herself a piece and took a bite.
     
    “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed as
the buttery cinnamon flavor rolled across her tongue.  “This is fantastic!”
     
    “Thank you,” Ken said.  “I’ll tell her
you said that.”
     
    “Tell her I need the recipe,” Heather
said.  “We need to turn this into a donut.”
     
    “How are you going to turn it into a
donut?” Ken asked.
     
    “Mmm,” she said, licking her lips to
catch any stray traces of brown sugar.  “We start out with a medium-weight cake
donut and top it with chopped pecan crumbles and a brown sugar-cinnamon-butter
glaze.  We can call them Cinnamon Crumbles.”
     
    “You’re going to make a donut from my
wife’s recipe?”
     
    “If she doesn’t mind,” Heather said.
     
    “Mind?  She’ll be thrilled.”
     
    “Great,” Heather said, taking another
bite of coffee cake and rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.  “Mmm.  Okay, I
better get back out front before I sit down in here and eat this entire thing
myself.”
     
    As she approached the glass cases
where they displayed the luscious donuts for sale, the door opened, and a group
of teenagers walked in, chattering and laughing.  Heather glanced at the clock
and saw that it was 8:30.  Hadn’t school already started?  Well, maybe not.
     
    “Good morning.  What can I get for you
today?” she asked with her friendliest smile.
     
    But even as she filled their order,
her mind wasn’t on the donuts they chose or the drinks they purchased. 
Instead, her thoughts were focused on another group of teenagers she hadn’t
even met.  Teenagers with a gun and some drugs.  Teenagers who might have
killed Kelly Carlson.
     
    ***
     
    Heather wasn’t sure what made her
decide to take a break and drive past Shear Beauty.  It wasn’t as if she
thought she could find some clue that the police had missed.  But
something—that curiosity gene again?—prompted her to head down Lakeridge and
turn in to the parking lot.
     
    The yellow crime scene tape was gone,
which didn’t surprise her.  She figured the police would have gotten everything
they needed before they  left yesterday.  Pulling into a parking spot directly
in front of Shear Beauty, Heather put the car in park and sat there thinking. 
It probably wouldn’t hurt for her to get a glimpse inside.  Despite having
patronized the dry cleaner next door for years, she’d never been into the
salon.
     
    Heather got out and stepped up onto
the sidewalk.  Would anybody think it was strange for her to be there?  No,
they’d probably just think she didn’t know the shop was closed.  Maybe they’d
think she had an appointment to get her hair done.
     
    She approached the plate glass window
on which bright orange and yellow window art proclaimed Special!  Ladies’ hair
cuts $20.  Men’s $15.  Children’s $12.  Cupping her hands around her face, she
leaned toward the window until her nose touched the glass and peered inside.
     
    It looked just like any other hair
salon she had ever seen.  There were two sinks, two client chairs and stylist
workstations, and two hair dryer chairs.  Black plastic chairs with metal legs
where customers could sit and wait for