Cadbury Creme Murder (5 page)

I’m
out front
, came
Ryan’s text.

Heather
went to her front door and opened it as Ryan came up the steps to her porch. 
He smiled at her, that easy grin that melted her heart, and leaned down to give
her a brief kiss.

“Glad
you could come over,” she said, smiling up at him.  “It’s been too long since
we’ve seen each other.” 
Why did I say that?
she mentally chastised
herself. 
Talk about sounding needy.

“I’m
glad you texted me,” he said.  “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Are
you off duty?  I have one more of those beers you like in the fridge.”

“Yeah,
I’m off duty,” he said.  “I could use a beer.”

She
retrieved the dark brown bottle from the place in the fridge where she’d kept
the kind of beer he liked, popped the cap off it, and returned to the living
room to hand it to him.

He
took a long swallow.  “This hits the spot,” he said.  “It’s been a long day.”

Heather
flopped down on the couch next to the armchair he’d taken.  “Because of the
Verna Dixon case?” she asked.

He
nodded and took another long swallow.

“Are
you getting anywhere with it?”

“Not
really,” he said.  “Verna Dixon was a nice woman that no one should have wanted
to kill.”

“That’s
what I kept hearing from everybody I talked to.”  Heather put her bare feet up
on the coffee table and slouched into her favorite pose.

“Apparently,
it was true,” he said.  “She volunteered at the hospital and at Caring Hearts. 
She attended First Baptist Church every Sunday.  Right side, third row back.”

“You
talked to her pastor?”

“Rev.
Davis.  He said she always had a smile on her face.  Was as active as she could
be with the church’s various ministries to the sick, and overseas missionaries,
and all that.”

“Nobody
should have wanted to kill her,” she mused aloud.  “But even if nobody
should
have wanted to kill her, obviously, someone
did
want to.  So have you
come up with any potential suspects?”

“A
few.  Nothing conclusive.  People who
might
have had a motive.  But
did
they?  They all say no.”

“Of
course they do.  But like whom?  Whom are we talking about here?”

“Like
Verna’s co-volunteer at hospice,” he said.  “At first, when I showed up at her
house to talk to her, she thought I was there to arrest her for theft.  Said
she knew Verna had turned everyone against her.  When I explained that no one from
Caring Hearts was pressing charges, and that I wasn’t here about any thefts,
that I just wanted to ask her some questions about Verna, she said—get this—she
said, ‘I didn’t kill her.  But I don’t blame whoever did.’”

“Nice,”
Heather said.  “Do you know if she was a good marksman?  Markswoman? 
Whatever.”

“Reasonably
decent.  She owns one handgun, which her late husband—who, incidentally, was
cared for by Caring Hearts—taught her to shoot for her own protection.  For
after he was gone.”

“Is
it the same kind of gun as the one used to shoot Verna?”

“Yes,”
he said.  “Same caliber.”

“Same
gun?”

“Don’t
know.  She wouldn’t let me take it so we could fire a test bullet and do a
comparison.  But once ballistics gives us its report, we’ll at least know if the
guns were made by the same manufacturer.  Then maybe we can get a court order.”

“Hmm. 
I wonder why she wouldn’t let you take it if she really was innocent.  She
could eliminate herself as a suspect.”

“She
claimed it was because she needed it for protection.  That she was an elderly
woman living alone.  That her late husband wanted her to have it for that
reason, and if he thought she needed it, that was good enough for her.”

“All
righty, then.”

“Yeah. 
Exactly.  Then there’s this doctor at the hospital where Verna worked.  Dr.
Edward Banner, a Vietnam vet who’s now Chief of Internal Medicine at Hillside
Regional.  Apparently, the two of them—he and Verna—had an argument over a
patient who died recently.  The witness didn’t hear details, just saw them arguing,
and heard the patient’s name mentioned  Said Banner looked angry, and Verna
looked upset.”

“I
wonder if it was the same patient whose death upset Verna so that she missed
her next volunteer shift.”

“Same
one.”

“What
do you make of their argument?”

“Dr.
Banner says there was no argument.  He says Verna was upset and he was trying
to calm her down.  That he has no idea why someone thinks they were arguing.”

“Of
course he doesn’t.  Speaking of people who like to argue, have you talked to
her neighbor, Mr. Smith?  Whatever his first name is?”

“Wilbur
Smith’s a good ol’ boy who can drop a deer with one shot at a hundred yards. 
Says he doesn’t own a handgun.  And it’s true that he doesn’t own a
registered
handgun, at least.”

“So
who do you think killed her?”

“I
don’t know,” he said flatly, setting the beer bottle down on the coffee table. 
“But we’ll figure it out.”

“I’m
sure you will,” she said.  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Ryan
didn’t answer.  He remained sitting the way he was, leaning forward, forearms
on his knees, his gaze fixed on the beer bottle in front of him.

And
suddenly, some vibe in the air changed, and Heather knew what was coming.

“Heather—”
Ryan began, his voice strained.

“You
don’t have to say it,” she said, hearing her own voice coming from what seemed
like a thousand miles away.  “It’s over, isn’t it?”

“I
do
have to say it,” he insisted, finally facing her.  “And it’s not
over.  Not necessarily.  That depends on you.”

“On
me
?” she said incredulously.

“Heather,
you know my wife died a few years ago.  Elizabeth.  Liz.”  He paused, took a
deep breath, let it out.  “When she died, I missed her like you can’t imagine. 
I didn’t want to go on without her.  But of course I went on.  What else could
I do?  I tried to keep myself busy with work.  I got drunk a few times.  More
than a few.  And finally, gradually, things started to seem better.  I still
missed her, but I realized that I still had to go on living. 
Wanted
to
go on living.  Does any of this make sense?”

She
nodded, a small, jerky movement, her lips too frozen to speak.

“I
even started to enjoy life again.  Started to notice when the sun was shining. 
Started to want to be around people again.  And then one day, I realized I
might be ready to date again, if I met the right woman.  I wanted to find again
what Liz and I had shared.  And when I met you, I thought maybe you were that
person.”  He glanced away from her and cleared his throat.  When he looked back
in her direction, his eyes seemed to glisten.

“I
still think you might be that person.  You’re incredible.  You’re smart, and
strong, and beautiful.  But I was wrong about being ready to date.  I’m not
ready.  I still miss Liz.”

“Of
course you do,” she said, surprised that she could speak.  “There will always
be a part of you that misses her.”

“I
know,” he said.  “I’m okay with that, and I know you’re okay with that.  That’s
one of the things I love about you.  But I’ve realized something.  And that’s
that I never really grieved her.  I knew she wasn’t coming back, and I tried my
hardest to push the pain away.  I didn’t want to feel it.  I thought it
couldn’t do any good.  But lately, I’ve realized that until I
do
feel it—until
I really come to terms with it—I won’t be ready to give my heart to someone
else.  Not my whole heart.  I’d only be able to give part of it.  And that’s
not fair to either one of us.”

For
a moment, there was silence, as Heather felt her own eyes filling with tears. 
She tried to blink them back, but they seemed to have a force of their own, and
they spilled over.  She bowed her head and let them fall.

“I’m
so sorry,” Ryan said, his voice husky.  “I’m sorry I did this to you.  You
don’t deserve this.”

In
the ensuing silence, she thought of a thousand things she wanted to say. 
Things like,
Why don’t you let
me
be the one to decide what’s fair to
me?
and
How can this be happening?

In
the end, all she managed to say was, “I think you better go.”

“Heather—”

“Go,”
she insisted, waving a hand toward the door, her gaze fixed on the geometric
designs in the area rug at her feet.  “Just go.”

A
few beats passed, and then he stood up.  She could tell by the creaking of the
leather chair.  And then she heard his footsteps as he slowly crossed the floor
to the front door, the squeak of the doorknob turning, and the final click as
he pulled the door shut behind him.

Heather
buried her face in her hands and sobbed.  When Don, her ex-husband, had walked
out of her life for the last time, that had been one thing.  After the rancor and
bitterness that had existed between them, she was almost relieved.

This
was different. 
Way
different.

Heather
got up and made her way into the bathroom, still sobbing.  She pulled off a
length of toilet paper, wadded it up, and wiped her eyes, then her nose.  It
did only momentary good.

Gotta
pull it  together
,
she told herself. 
Gotta move on.  Isn’t that what he did?

A
whimpering at her feet caused her to look down.  Dave stood gazing up at her
pitifully, as if he knew something was wrong.

“Mama’s
okay,” Heather said, reaching down to scratch his furry head.

Dave
licked her hand.

Heather
sat down on the floor, leaned back against the wall, and allowed Dave to crawl
into her lap.  She stroked his silky fur from head to tail, over and over, until
she realized that his fur was wet. 
That’s strange
.

But
when another tear fell onto the back of her hand, Heather didn’t try to stop
it, or any of the ones that followed.  She closed her eyes, cuddled Dave close,
and let herself cry.

The
next morning, when she arrived at Donut Delights, Heather busied herself with
frosting a huge batch of Cadbury Crème donuts.  Making the crème, spreading it
on top of the donuts, and breaking the chocolate bars into tiny chunks which
she placed on top of the crème all helped to keep her mind focused on work
instead of her disastrous personal life.

Jung,
Maricela, and Angelica let her keep to herself, speaking to her only when
necessary and trying not to ask her for anything.  Several times, she caught
their concerned gazes on her, but they always looked away when she caught them
watching her.

She
considered telling them what had happened.  But the middle of the business day
was no time for discussing her personal problems.  She’d tell them later.  When
she felt like she could talk about it without crying.

Heather
picked up a coffee pot and walked around the end of the counter and into the
customer dining area to offer refills.  Normally, she enjoyed the chance to
spend a little time chatting with each person who came in, or at least those
who wanted to chat.  In addition to providing the wrought iron tables and
chairs, faux-distressed brick walls, gorgeous wooden flooring, and Parisian
décor, she wanted to offer customers a place they could be known.  Cared about.

“What’s
wrong?” Eva asked simply when Heather reached her table. 

“Oh,
just my personal life,” Heather said breezily, as if it were no big deal,
avoiding her favorite customer’s gaze.

“Did
you break up with your young man?”

Heather
sighed.  “It’s more like he broke up with me.  Said he still missed his wife
and wasn’t ready to give his heart to anybody else yet.”

“Oh,
boy, I do understand,” Eva said.  “But give him time.”

“Time? 
It’s over.”

“Don’t
be so sure.”  Eva cocked her head and looked up at Heather, her blue eyes
serious.  “Your young man sounds like he knows his heart.  Knows what he’s
ready for and what he isn’t ready for quite yet.  Give him some time to work
things out.  And don’t be too sure that once he gets everything straight, he
won’t come back, and be very sure he wants to be with you.”

“Maybe
so,” Heather said.  “Maybe so.”

The
bell above the front door jingled, and Heather glanced at the new customer
entering her shop.  She looked familiar.  Wait, was that the nurse she’d talked
to about Verna Dixon?  “I’ll be right back,” Heather said to Eva.

“Kristen?”
she said as she walked toward the new arrival.

“You
remember me!  Yes, I just thought I’d treat myself to a donut or two or three,”
Kristen said.  “It’s been a long day.”

“Well
take your time, and see what tickles your taste buds,” she said, gesturing to
the glass display cases.  “We have several varieties I think you’d really
enjoy.”

“Mmm,
they all look delicious,” Kristen said, perusing the selection as Heather
retreated behind the counter and got ready to serve her.  “I think I’ll have
a…let’s see…a Southern Pecan Pie donut, and a Cadbury Crème donut.”

Heather
boxed up the two donuts and handed the box across the counter to Kristen.  “On
the house,” she said.  “As a thank you for your time in talking to me the other
day, and because you’ve had a hard day.”

“Yeah,
it’s always hard when a patient dies,” she said.  “And this particular patient
was one of Dr. Banner’s.  Dr. Banner always takes it pretty hard when he loses
a patient.”

“I
bet,” Heather said, trying to figure out how to broach the topic of Banner’s
argument with Verna.  Finally, she decided the straightforward approach was
best.  “You know, I heard that he had an argument with Verna when another
patient of his died.  The one who died right before Verna was murdered.”

“I
don’t know about that, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” Kristen said, tucking a
strand of blond hair that had escaped from its clip behind her ear.  “It’s
almost like it’s a personal thing with him, you know?  Especially when the patient
was a Vietnam vet.”

“Was
the patient who died today a Vietnam vet?”

“Yes. 
And so was the one who died right before Verna—left.”

“What
did they die of?”

“Well,
they were both very sick for awhile.  The first man had been in a car accident
and got banged up pretty badly.  The man today was just sick.  He had been
homeless ever since Vietnam.”

“That’s
too bad,” Heather said, frowning.  “It’s sad.”

“Yes,
it is,” Kristen said.  “Are you sure I can’t pay you for these donuts?”

“Positive,”
Heather answered.  “Just enjoy.  And come back and see us soon.”

“Oh,
I will.  Thanks.  You have a good day.”

“You
too,” Heather said, watching the young nurse walk out the door.

***

When
her doorbell rang that afternoon, Heather wondered for a brief instant if it
could possibly be Ryan.  She immediately dismissed the notion, shaking her
head.  That part of her life was over.

Peering
out the curtain next to the door, she saw Amy standing on her porch holding a
plastic Walmart grocery bag.  “Hey, there.  Come in,” she said, opening the
door and standing aside so Amy could enter.

“I
brought reinforcements,” Amy said, holding up the bag.  But all Heather could
see inside was some kind of box.

“What’s
in there?” she asked.

“Cheesecake,”
Amy answered.  “Each slice has a different topping, so you can try them all. 
Perfect remedy for the Jerk-Boyfriend-Just-Dumped-Me blues.”

“He’s
not a jerk,” she said, accepting the bag.  “But I’ll take the cheesecake.”

“I’ll
help you eat it,” Amy said.  “What are friends for?”

“Thanks
for the sacrifice,” Heather said, feeling an honest grin tug at the corners of
her mouth.

“Oh,
any time.  Whenever there’s a cheesecake to be eaten, I’m there for you.”

Heather
placed the cheesecake in the middle of the kitchen table and reached into the
silverware drawer for forks.  Grabbing two small plates out of the cabinet, she
sat down across from her friend.  “Thanks for this,” she said.  “Seriously.”

“You’re
seriously welcome.  Let’s get you started on a piece of cheesecake, and then
you can give me some details.  You didn’t say much in your text.”

Heather
selected a piece of cheesecake topped with chocolate, caramel, and pecans. 
“Good choice,” Amy said, choosing a raspberry piece for herself.

“You
like the plain stuff?” Heather asked.

“It’s
not plain.  Although I would rather have it topped with actual raspberries and
served by a guy named Carlos.”  She paused, fork in midair.  “Oh, wait.  Guys. 
That’s what’s the problem.  Okay, so spill it.  How’d he dump you?”

Heather
swallowed a bite of cheesecake.  “Well, he came over last night.  You know I
texted him saying I had some questions for him.  So he came over, and we talked
about the case for awhile.”

“Find
out anything interesting?”

“Interesting,
maybe, but not terribly helpful.  Apparently Verna had an argument with a
doctor at the hospital.  The Chief of Internal Medicine.  Something about a
patient who had died.  The doctor denies ever arguing with her.  Says she was
upset, and he was trying to calm her down.  But a nurse at the hospital says
that he always got upset when he lost a patient.  Oh, and he was a Vietnam vet,
so presumably, he knows how to fire a gun.”

“Go
on.”

“Then
there was the volunteer that Verna got fired at Caring Hearts.  The volunteer’s
husband had been cared for by that organization.  After he died, she began
volunteering with them.  She had a gun, too, and knew how to use it, because
her husband made her learn before he died.  Said she would need it as an
elderly woman living alone.  And she wouldn’t let Ryan have her gun so
ballistics could fire a test bullet for comparison with the one that killed
Verna.”

“That’s
suspicious,” Amy said.  “Does Ryan suspect anybody else?”

“I
don’t know how much he suspects her neighbor, Wilbur Smith.  But Mr. Smith is a
crotchety old guy, and he’s also a country boy.  Apparently, he’s a pretty good
shot with a rifle, but he denies owning a handgun.”

“So
lots of people who might have done it, and no way to figure out which one
actually did.”

“That’s
about the long and the short of it.”

“So
go on.  After you two discussed the case, then what?”

“Ryan
got all quiet.  And somehow I just knew what he was going to say.  He said he
had thought he was ready to date again, thought I was the right one for him,
and even that he loved several things about me.  But then he said he was wrong,
he
wasn’t
ready to date again.  That he was still in love with his wife,
Liz, and couldn’t fully give his heart to somebody else until he dealt with
losing her.”

“That’s
so romantic!”

“What? 
Whose side are you on?” Heather demanded.  “He broke up with me, remember?”

“True,”
Amy said, suddenly serious.  “But any guy that can love like that is a guy
who’s worth waiting for.  Give him some time to grieve his wife, or whatever he
wants to do.  He’ll be back.”

“You’re
the second person who’s told me that today,” Heather grumbled.

“Who
was the first?”

“Eva.”

“Great
minds think alike.  But seriously, have you seen the way he looks at you?  He
loves you.”

“Whatever.”

“All
right, blow me off,” Amy said.  “For now, at least.  But when you two get back
together, I’m going to say the biggest ‘I told you so’ ever.”

“You
do that.  Now hand me that piece with the chocolate chips on it, would you?”

“Sure,”
Amy said, coaxing it onto Heather’s plate.  “Just because this breakup is only
temporary is no reason to let a perfectly yummy cheesecake go to waste.”