Mint Chip Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 6 (4 page)

“I appreciate that,” Heather said.  “I
was just wondering…are you still going to keep the shop open?”

Lisa shook her head.  “Nope.  It
wasn’t my shop.  I just worked for Kelly.  It’s up to her family what they want
to do with it.  They said they’re thinking about it.  So right now, I’m out of
a job.”

“Could you set up your own salon?”

“If I had the money,” she said.  “But
I don’t have anyone to get me started in business like Kelly did.”

“Do you know if Kelly had any
enemies?” Heather asked.  “Somebody who hated her enough to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa said, shrugging. 
“I mean, I guess nobody gets along with everybody.”

“Any unhappy customers?”

Lisa’s eyes narrowed.  “Why do you
want to know all this?” she asked.  “Are you with the police?”

“I just wanted to see if Shear Beauty
was going to stay open,” Heather said.  “I figure if Kelly’s customers were
pretty happy with her, then her family might consider reopening the shop.  I
know my friend Amy Givens came to Kelly for years.  She loved Kelly’s work.”

“Oh, you’re Amy’s friend?” Lisa
asked.  “I know Amy.  Kelly cut her hair, but I knew her.  She was always so
much fun to talk to.  I’ll miss her.  Actually, I’ll miss all the customers. Except
Lana Sturmer.”

“Lana wasn’t one of your nicest
customers?” Heather probed.

“To say the least,” Lisa said, rolling
her eyes.  “Every time she came in here, she acted like she was queen of the
world or something.  She was so full of herself and that daughter of hers.  Emily
competed in beauty pageants.  I think she might have even won a couple.  Lana
always brought her here to get her hair done before a pageant.  And believe me,
everything had to be just perfect, or it would be our fault her Emily didn’t
win.”

“No pressure,” Heather said.

“I know, right?  Emily was as sweet as
could be.  But not Lana.  Kelly spent way more time on Emily’s hair than she
should have to, just to make sure Lana was satisfied.  And Lana left here happy
every time.  Even the last time Kelly did Emily’s hair, Lana was happy with
it.  But then she came in the next day and started screaming at Kelly in front
of the other customers.  Apparently, Emily only got runner-up, and Lana said it
was all Kelly’s fault.”

“Why didn’t Kelly just fire Lana as a
client?”

“That’s what I wondered.  But she
never did.  Well, I guess Lana will have to find another hairstylist to yell at
now.”  Lisa’s face was suddenly sad.  She clamped her lips together, and
Heather saw tears in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Heather
said.  “I’m sorry.  I hope things work out, either here, or wherever you decide
to work next.”

Lisa nodded, barely looking at her. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Heather
said.  Lisa sniffled and turned away. 

Heather walked quietly to the front
door of Shear Beauty and let herself out. 

When Heather made it back to Donut
Delights, she’d been gone much longer than she’d anticipated.  “Sorry I was
gone so long,” she said as she hurried in through the back door.

“No problem,” Jung said, hooking a
thumb back over his shoulder towards the dining room.  “You have a visitor.”

Heather stepped forward, craning her
neck so she could see into the dining room.  She spotted Ryan sitting at a
table near the window, leaning toward…Eva? 

At that moment, her favorite customer
looked up and smiled.  Heather saw her say something to Ryan, and then Ryan
turned and caught sight of her. 

Wait a minute.  Was that a guilty look
on his face?  Why would he feel guilty about sitting and chatting with an
elderly woman whose friendship he knew Heather enjoyed?

But the guilty look was gone, replaced
by the smile she loved so much.  Ryan stood up and met her at the counter. 
“Hey, Beautiful.  I was hoping you’d be back soon.  I only have a minute left
before I have to get back to work.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said.  “Busy
day?”

“Yep.  Would you mind bagging up a
couple donuts for me to take with me?”

“A cop eating donuts?” Heather teased. 
“Who ever would have thought?”

“It’s something they teach us in the
academy,” Ryan said.

“Donuts 101.”

Heather laughed.  “What flavors do you
want?”

“Whatever’s good today.”

She glanced down her nose at him,
which was harder to do since he was several inches taller than she was. 
“Everything’s good,” she said. 

“Of course it is,” Ryan said.  “My
bad.  Just give me two of whatever you recommend.”

“Any new developments you can tell me
about?” she asked, carefully placing a Southern Pecan Pie donut in a bag.

“Make it two of those,” Ryan said.

“Those look great.”

“Okay,” she said.

“As for what I can tell you, I can say
that we’re waiting on autopsy results for answers to some questions.  Can’t say
much more than that.”

“Did you know about Lana Sturmer having
an argument with Kelly?”

“We know.  The question is, how do you
know?”

“I drove by Shear Beauty, and Lisa was
there,” she answered.

“I asked her if the shop was going to
stay open.  I was curious on Amy’s behalf.  Amy’s gotten her hair done there
for years.  Once Lisa found out I knew Amy, we got to talking about the murder,
and she told me.”

“Just be careful,” Ryan said.  “We
need room to do our jobs.  And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I wasn’t trying to do your job,”
Heather said.  “I was there, we were talking, and I asked a few questions.”

“I know,” Ryan said with a sigh.

 “I know.”

“Is there something wrong with what I
did?”  A frown creased Heather’s forehead.

“I’m not sure this is the place to be
having this discussion,” Ryan said.

“Then let’s go have it in my office.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Ryan walked around the end of the counter
and followed her to her office.  She closed the door behind them, and they both
sat down.  She plunked the bag with his donuts onto the desk next to him.  “So
what’s going on?” she asked.

He leaned forward, forearms on his
knees, gaze directed at the floor.  His classic “thinking” pose.  She waited
for him to speak.  In a moment, he looked up, and his eyes met hers.  “You’re
not a professional,” he said.  “If you get involved with a murder
investigation, it could compromise the perceived purity of the evidence and the
impartiality of the investigation.”

“What?  I wouldn’t compromise any
evidence.”

“You wouldn’t mean to,” Ryan said. 
“But a good defense attorney could look at the fact that you’re my girlfriend,
and I knew you were investigating.  He could claim that I was encouraging you
to act in an official police capacity, which would get me in a lot of trouble. 
He could also claim that witnesses’ testimony was improperly influenced or even
improperly gained because you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“So what am I supposed to do if I’m
talking to somebody, and the topic of the case comes up?  Just stop talking
about it?”

“Ideally, yes,” Ryan said.  “If the
person has any information, that is.  You could tell him or her to come to me
directly.  I know what I need, and I know how to ask questions in a way that
will stand up in court.”

Heather dropped her gaze.  “I’m
sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to compromise anything.”

Ryan’s finger beneath her chin raised
her eyes back to his.  “The most important reason I don’t want you involved is
because I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.  “It’s not court; it’s you.  I
don’t want the murderer to come after you, too.”

***

So how was your date last night?
Heather texted Amy.  Did you get your hair done?

But instead of pinging with an
incoming text, the phone began to play “Here Comes the Sun.”  Heather picked it
up.  “Hello?”

“No, I did not get my hair done before
the date, and it’s a good thing,” Amy said.  “Otherwise, Chris would have run
away and never looked back.”

“What do you mean?” Heather asked. 
She chose a spot in the parking lot of Wal-Mart, pulled in, and put the car in
park so she could sit and finish the conversation.

“I mean that I got my hair done this
morning,” Amy said.  “Your girl wasn’t available, so I picked another salon. 
Nice looking little place in a building full of boutique-y type shops.”  She
paused, and then said dramatically, “Now, I’m ready to be Medusa for
Halloween.  No, wait.  I don’t have that much hair left.  Maybe Demi Moore.  In
her bald phase.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”
Heather asked hopefully.

“Come see it,” Amy said.  “I’m at
home.  I’ll be staying here until my hair grows out enough that I can get it
cut right and show my face in public again.” 

The line went dead, and Heather looked
at the screen.  Amy had hung up.

There was only one thing a best friend
could do.  Wal-Mart would have to wait.  Heather backed out of the space and
drove toward the exit.

***

“Come in!” Amy shouted.

Heather turned the knob, opened the
door, and let herself into Amy’s house.  But she didn’t see any sign of her
friend.  “Amy, where are you?” she called out.

“I’m hiding,” Amy said.  “Now promise me
you won’t laugh or make jokes.”

“Okay,” Heather said, stopping in the
middle of Amy’s living room.  “I won’t laugh or make jokes, no matter how bad
it is, scout’s honor.”

Slowly, Amy stepped around the corner
from the hallway into the living room.  She wore jeans and a t-shirt.  Her
light brown hair was cut in a short shag, the ends curled up and away from her
face.  Heather’s mouth dropped open.

“Is it that bad?” Amy asked, raising a
hand to her head.  She sounded perilously close to tears.

“Bad?” Heather squeaked.  “Are you
kidding?  You look gorgeous!”

“You can tell me the truth,” Amy
sniffled.  “I can take it.”

“The truth is that you look gorgeous,”
Heather repeated.  “How can you not like that haircut on you?”

“Because it’s so short,” Amy said. 
“I’ve never had it this short.  Ever.  She must have cut off 6 inches.”

“It’s adorable,” Heather insisted. 
“Look how it frames your face.  It really makes your eyes look lovely, too.  I
wish I could do that to my hair.”

“You do?” Amy said, her voice sounding
slightly stronger.

“Yes, I do,” Heather said.  She
grabbed Amy’s arm and led her down the hall to the bathroom, shoving her in
front of the mirror.  “Just look at yourself.  Most women would kill to look
like you.”

“But it’s all spiky on the ends.” 

“It’s not spiky, it’s just turned up. 
That’s the way it’s supposed to be.  You’re gorgeous, girlfriend.  So it’s
shorter than what you’re used to.  But it’s perfect.  I guess it is a good
thing you didn’t have your new ’do before you went out with Chris last night. 
He wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands off you.”

“That might have been okay,” Amy said,
the first hint of a smile turning up the corners of her mouth.  She glanced
sideways at Heather.  “He did kiss me, though.”

“Of course, he did,” Heather said. 
“You’re an amazing woman.  You’re sweet, and funny, and talented, and kind. 
And you’re beautiful.  You were beautiful then, and your hair looks even more
amazing now.”

“Well…maybe it does,” Amy hedged as
she peered into the mirror.  “I guess it’ll just take some getting used to.”

“When you’re used to it, you’ll love
it,” Heather promised. 

“Maybe.”  Amy’s voice sounded like she
might actually believe it.  “Thanks for coming over to cheer me up.”

“What are friends for?” she said.

“So what’s the latest about Kelly?”
Amy asked as they headed back to the living room.

“Not much,” Heather answered.  “All I
know is that there were some kids arrested nearby the night she was killed. 
They had some pot and a gun.”

“Potheads don’t usually go around
killing people,” Amy said.

“Yeah, I know.  But she had to be
bludgeoned with something.  Maybe it was their gun.  Maybe they were trying to
rob her.”

“If you say so.”

“Oh, and do you know Lana Sturmer?”

“No.  Who’s that?”

“Apparently a very arrogant diva type
who always brought her daughter Emily in to have Kelly do her hair before the
beauty pageants she competed in.  Some of the competitions, Emily won, and
everything was fine.  But the last pageant she competed in, she came in
runner-up.  Lana came back to complain to Kelly.  Started yelling at her in
front of other customers.  Said it was Kelly’s fault Emily hadn’t won.”

Amy rolled her eyes.  “Whatever.  I can’t
stand people like that.”

“Me either.  Anyway, it sounds like
every potential suspect the police have is a kid or has something to do with
the high school.”

“In that case, add one more name to
your list,” Amy said.

“What do you mean?”

“Brent Riggleman.  He and Kelly had a
bad break-up not that long before she died.”

“Brent and Kelly were dating?”

“Well, not exactly,” Amy said.  “That
was part of the problem.  He wanted them to date; she didn’t.”

“Do you think Brent would have killed
her over it?”

“Who knows?”  Amy led the way into her
living room and flopped down on the couch.  “It’s always those quiet, bitter
types you have to worry about.”

“Was he bitter?” Heather asked, just
as she remembered Ryan’s words only hours ago.  “Wait.  Never mind.  Don’t tell
me, tell Ryan.”