Sinister Sprinkles (7 page)

He slapped two brand-new, crisp one-hundred-dollar bills on the counter and said, “Breakfast is on me, for everybody and anybody who walks through that door. If you run out, let me know and I’ll settle up when I leave.”

There were protests from the crowd of parents, though I noticed none of the kids were complaining.

Harry smiled at them all and said, “I just had a bit of luck in the stock market, and I want to share it with my friends. Surely no one’s going to begrudge me that, are they?”

He was good. No one could protest, so Harry turned back to me. “As for me, I’ll take a cup of coffee and a bearclaw.” He hesitated, then said, “Cancel that. Make it hot chocolate.”

“Do you still want the bearclaw?” I asked.

He grinned. “What do you think?” He started to rejoin his friends when he stopped and asked, “Is there any chance we can get some Christmas music in here? All this snow has me in the holiday spirit.”

“Sure thing,” I said, tuning the radio to a station in Charlotte that started their holiday tunes around Labor Day. It wasn’t my usual background music for the donut shop, but then again, I didn’t normally get two hundred dollars in orders either, so it was a day for surprises.

I got Harry a hot chocolate in my biggest mug, then heard shouts from the children, and told Emma, “We need another gallon of hot chocolate. And fast.”

“I’m on it,” she said. Emma was what passed for barista at my place. I let her choose the daily coffee specials, order the products, and make the hot chocolate, though we never had a tremendous demand for it. I loved it myself, and was constantly asking Emma how she made hers so tasty, but so far, it was a secret she hadn’t been willing to share with me.

“It’ll be a few minutes for the hot chocolate,” I said.

There were disappointed groans all around, then I added, “but in the meantime, you can all pick our your donuts, and by then we should be ready to serve you drinks. Let’s see how many want hot chocolate? Raise your hands so I can get a count.”

Every hand in the place went up, except George’s. I asked, “Are you the lone holdout sticking with coffee?”

He nodded, and some of the kids gave him a look like he was crazy, which George chose to ignore. It was all I could do not to laugh, so I ducked back into the kitchen to give Emma the count.

She had an array of spices out on the counter, and it was pretty clear that I wasn’t welcome in my own kitchen.

“Was there something you needed?” Emma asked as she tried to hide the selection from my gaze.

“I just wanted to tell you that we need sixteen hot chocolates,” I said. “I had to be sure you made enough.”

“There will be plenty,” she said. “Don’t worry about that.”

“You know what? You’d better make it seventeen. I haven’t had your hot chocolate in a while, either.”

“I’ve got a feeling we’ll need more than that, so I’m making a triple batch. Now shoo.”

I hid my smile from her as I went back to the front.

“It’s on its way,” I said, and there were more whoops of delight, and not just from the children.

I loved the sounds and sights of people filling the shop. I had to find a special way to thank George for coming to get me. I wouldn’t have missed a day like today for the world.

*   *   *

By eleven-thirty, we were out of hot chocolate, despite Emma’s constant battle to keep up with the demand. I thought about closing early, but people kept streaming in, clamoring for a treat to celebrate the snow day. I was sure there were people holed up all over April Springs grumbling about the snow accumulation, but none of them came into Donut Hearts. I decided to leave the station tuned to Christmas music, at least until the day after the holiday. Carols were interspersed with orchestral music, and to my relief, everyone was safe from reindeer hit-and-runs, especially Grandma.

At noon, we locked our doors, with two donuts left in inventory, barely a cup of coffee left in the pot, and a bank deposit that needed an armed guard escort. I stuck it in our safe. It would easily keep there for another day.

All in all, it was a good day, one that I’d savor if it weren’t for the fact that my ex-husband was missing, along with a woman I liked, but didn’t really know all that well. I wondered if the chief had any luck tracking either one of them down yet. If he had, he wasn’t sharing the information with me.

And of course, that left me wondering about Jake Bishop, and whether Chief Martin was going to ever get hold of him, or if he was going to try to handle things himself.

Honestly, I realized that it wasn’t my job to worry about it. I was tired, and it was time to go home. I bagged up the last two donuts, grabbed my purse, and then left the shop, turning my back to lock the door.

As I did, I heard a disguised voice behind me say, “Give me the bag, and no one will get hurt.”

SIMPLY MY BEST APPLE PIE

These pies are great year round, but the best time to make them is when the apples are in season in the autumn. It’s a quick and easy dessert that is always a hit. The crumb crust topping is wonderful. Enjoy a slice of pie with the coldest milk you can find!

INGREDIENTS

• 8 or 9 inch pie crust, premade

Filling

•
1
⁄
2
cup granulated sugar

• 3 tablespoons flour

•
1
⁄
2
teaspoon nutmeg

•
1
⁄
2
teaspoon cinnamon

• Dash of salt

• 5–6 cups thinly sliced firm, tart apples (Granny Smiths work well, so do Staymen)

Topping

• 1 cup flour

•
1
⁄
2
cup brown sugar

•
1
⁄
2
cup butter, room temperature

DIRECTIONS

Peel and core the apples, then cut into thin slices. In a bowl, sift together the sugar, flour, nutmeg, cinnamon, and salt, then stir this mixture into the apples until they are thoroughly coated. Add to shell, then in another bowl, combine the flour and brown sugar, then cut in the butter. The mix should be crumbly, and the butter still in small chunks. Add these to the top, then bake uncovered in a 425°F oven for 30–45 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and a butter knife slips into the top easily.

CHAPTER 4

I started to hand my purse backward when I heard a laugh. “Not that bag. Who cares about money? I want the donuts.”

I turned around and saw Grace grinning at me. “Those
are
for me, aren’t they? I can’t believe you bought it.”

“You were very convincing,” I said as I handed the bag of donuts over to her. “You’re welcome to them. But surely you’ve had breakfast already.”

She smiled and shrugged at the same time.

“Grace, are you telling me you just got up?”

“Of course not,” she said as she peeked inside the bag. “I was just teasing. I’ve been up for hours. Your mother insisted I eat a full breakfast, and then she wouldn’t let me leave until the snowplow came and dug you all out. I just now made a break for it.”

“Sorry, I know how she can be sometimes.”

“Are you kidding me? I love the way she pampers me.”

I looked around Springs Drive and saw that I wasn’t the only business open, though I had to believe mine was doing better than the rest of them. I was glad to see that Two Cows and a Moose—our local newsstand—was doing brisk business. I’d been in the other day getting a magazine, and saw that the proprietress—pretty and young Emily Hargraves—had adorned her beloved stuffed animals in Santa suits, from their shiny black boots to their red and white caps perched precariously on their heads, though Moose had presented a particular challenge for her because of his antlers. I thought she’d been crazy naming her business after her favorite three stuffed animals, but I had to admit, they were a crowd pleaser, perched on a shelf in a place of honor above the cash register. I couldn’t wait to see the outfits Emily had planned for St. Patrick’s Day.

“Let’s get something to eat,” I said. “It looks like The Boxcar is open.”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

“I know what my mother considers a balanced breakfast. The sausage pile has to match the stack of bacon on your plate, and the eggs outweigh them both. You’ve got to be stuffed, and I just gave you donuts.”

She smiled. “Okay, so I’m not hungry. That doesn’t mean I can’t join you. I’ll have coffee and keep you company while you eat. Come on, let’s go.”

We walked down the abandoned tracks, now covered with a layer of snow, toward The Boxcar grill.

Trish smiled at us as we ascended the stairs, then pointed at the Donut Hearts bag in Grace’s hands. “You’re not really going to bring food into a diner, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” Grace said. “This is inventory that Suzanne had to liquidate, so I agreed to take it off her hands. Believe me, I’d never break your rules.”

Trish’s faked grimace broke into a smile. “Fine, but you’d better make sure that inventory stays in the bag while you’re here.”

“I can check it with you, if you’d like,” Grace said. “I’m really too full to eat them anyway.”

Trish laughed. “Then you came to the right place. I can see why a diner might appeal to you,” she said.

“I’m here to keep Suzanne company,” Grace said. As she handed Trish the donuts, she said, “Honestly, you’re welcome to them.”

She peeked inside the bag, then looked at me. “Do you mind, Suzanne?”

“Help yourself,” I said. “But I thought no one could bring food to your diner?”

“I make the rules, I can break them,” she said as she tucked the bag behind the counter.

As she led us to a free booth in back, Trish asked us in a lowered voice, “Have you heard the news?”

“About Max and Muriel being missing?” I said.

Grace grabbed my arm. “What? What happened now?”

Trish said, “Don’t look at me. That’s all I know. Suzanne, have you heard anything new?”

I shook my head as I slid onto the bench seat of the booth. “Just rumor and idle speculation.”

Trish’s eyes lit up. “That’s what I like the best. What have you got?”

“Feed me first, and then I’ll tell you,” I said.

Trish shook her head in mock disgust. “I can’t believe you’re withholding information on me.”

“Believe it,” I said. “I’ll have a turkey club with no tomato, fries, and a Diet Coke.”

“Diet?” Trish asked.

“I’m trying to cut back,” I said.

“Diet it is.” She turned to Grace. “Do you want anything?”

“Make it two diet Cokes,” she said.

“You two are a couple of wild gals out on the town, aren’t you? Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she left, Grace whispered, “Before she gets back, tell me everything you know, and don’t you dare leave anything out.”

“There’s really nothing to tell. Chief Martin came by the donut shop early this morning wanting to know if I’d seen Max, and when I told him no, he informed me that Muriel Stevens was missing as well. Emma said she thought they were off somewhere together.”

Grace shook her head. “She had to be joking. Honestly, I don’t see them as a couple, do you?”

“It’s hard to see Max with anyone but me,” I admitted, “unless we’re talking about Darlene Higgins. I saw that plainly enough.”

“Have they made any progress in that investigation?” Grace asked as Trish slid the diet Cokes in front of us and nudged Grace to scoot over.

Once she was sitting with us, Trish said, “I told you two to wait for me. Now what did I miss?”

“I just said Emma thought that Max and Muriel were holing up somewhere together,” I explained.

Trish appeared to think about that for a few seconds, then shook her head. “No, I can’t see it.”

“Me, either. Is that the investigation you were talking about?”

“No,” Grace said. “I was wondering if the police have found out anything about Darlene’s murder yet.”

Trish looked at me. “And what did you say?”

“I didn’t have a chance to say anything. But no, if the chief knows anything, he’s not sharing the information with me.”

“Curious, isn’t it?” Trish said. “What was Darlene doing in Muriel’s coat, why was she wearing a wig, and why would someone stab her with a candy cane?” She shivered a little as she added, “It’s a pretty odd way to die.”

I nodded. “Isn’t it strange that someone grabbed a candy cane, of all things, for a murder weapon?”

“They have some pretty deadly points on the spike that goes into the ground,” Grace said.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“Before I came by the donut shop today, I walked over to City Hall and pulled one out of the ground to check for myself.”

“Did anyone see you do it?” I asked.

“Not that I know of, but I wasn’t exactly furtive about it. Why?”

I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have done that. What if someone saw you, and another person gets stabbed with one?”

Grace looked at me critically. “Seriously? Do you really think that’s a concern? What can I say? I was curious.”

Trish said, “I would have looked too, if I’d thought about it.”

Grace asked, “Why did they leave them out on display, anyway? I find that kind of disturbing in its own right.”

“Who knows?” Trish said.

“Traditions around here are pretty tough to break,” I said, “and decorations at the courthouse are near the top of the list.”

Trish glanced over her shoulder and said, “It looks like your club is ready. I’ll be right back.”

After she delivered my food, Trish was so busy with other customers that she didn’t invite herself to sit back down with us.

I offered Grace a French fry.

“I couldn’t. I’m stuffed,” she said.

I grinned at her. “Why do you think I offered you one?”

She stared at my plate, then after hesitating, reached over and grabbed a fry after all.

“What?” she asked as she saw me smiling at her. “Can’t a girl change her mind?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Have some more.”

She nodded, took another fry, then asked, “Did you invite somebody else to lunch with you?”

“No, why do you ask?”

She pointed over my shoulder and said, “There’s a cop coming this way, and he’s looking right at you.”