Maple Frosted Murder (Donut Hole 2) Read Free

Mine.”
     
    “Tell
me what happened yesterday morning,” Shepherd said.
     
    “Stan
came blowing into my shop shouting at me.  He accused me of trying to run him
out of business.  I told him the conversation was over, and he said we were
going to keep talking about it until I ceased and desisted.  I finally told him
if he kept disturbing my customers, I was going to call the police.  As he was
going out the door, he shouted at me that ‘this’ wasn’t over by a long shot.”
     
    “That’s
pretty much what I heard,” Shepherd said.
     
    “You
heard about it?”
    “I
heard that the two of you had a pretty public argument.”
     
    “We
didn’t have an argument.  I got yelled at.  Big difference.”
    He
glanced down at his notebook in his lap, then back up at her.  “Where did you
go after you left your shop yesterday?”
     
    “Home. 
I had to let Dave out.”
     
    “Dave. 
Your dog.”
     
    “Yep.”
     
    “Did
you leave your house at any point after that?”
     
    “No. 
Well, to go outside into the back yard, but I guess that’s not what you meant.”
     
    “So
you went straight home after work, and you didn’t leave the house until when,
when you came to work this morning?”
     
    “That’s
right,” she said, frowning.
     
    “Did
you have anyone over?”
     
    “What
business is—” she began, but stopped when she felt her stomach clench into a
tight knot.  “Wait a minute,” she said.  “You want to know if I have an alibi.”
     
    Shepherd
nodded.
     
    “Well,
I don’t.  I was supposed to go to an art show where my friend Amy was one of
the featured artists.  But I stayed home.  I didn’t feel like going and making
nice with a bunch of strangers.”
     
    “Because
you were angry.”
    “Yes,”
she said, hating the potential implications.  “I’m a suspect, aren’t I?”
     
    He
shrugged.  “Everyone’s a suspect until proven otherwise,” he said.
     
    “But
you’re not looking at me as one part of ‘everyone,’ are you?  You’re looking at
me as someone you think might have really killed him.”
     
    “No,”
he said.  “I don’t think you killed him.  Which is why it’s bad that you don’t
have an alibi.”
     
    “You’re
telling me,” she said.
     
    They
sat in silence for a moment.  “So what happens next?” she asked.  “Do you tell
me not to leave town, like you did last time?”
     
    He
winced.  “I didn’t say it exactly that way.”
     
    “Well,
for your information, I’m not planning on leaving town.  I’ll be right here in
good ol’ Hillside.  You can investigate me to your heart’s content.”
     
    “Heather,
didn’t you hear me?  I said I don’t think you did it.”
     
    She
held his gaze for a moment, saw that he was sincere.  “Thank you,” she said.
     
    “You’re
welcome,” he said.  “Now, aren’t you going to ask me anything about the murder?”
     
    “I
get to do that?” she asked.
     
    “You
can always ask.”
    “All
righty, then.  How was he killed?”
     
    “There
was blunt force trauma to the back of the head.  That may or may not have
killed him.  We’re waiting on the autopsy to establish whether he died from the
trauma or from suffocation.”
     
    “You
mean he might have suffocated inside the deep freeze?”
     
    “It’s
a possibility.” 
     
    Heather
shuddered.  “What an awful way to go.”
     
    “That
it would be, indeed,” he said.  He stood up, and she did, too.  “Thank you for
your time,” he said.  “I’ll be in touch if anything comes up.”
     
    “Please
do,” she said. 
     
    ***
     
    When
he had gone, she fished her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk,
retrieved her cell phone, and dialed Amy’s number.  It rang once and then Amy’s
voice said, “Hi!  You have reached Amy….”
     
    Heather
sighed, waited through the recording, then left a message for Amy to call her
back.  She dropped the phone back in her purse, shut the desk drawer, and