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

perfectly in place and makeup highlighting her
flawless features, looking every bit the beauty queen she had once been, “is
the story of the murder of a Hillside businesswoman.”
     
    As she continued, the camera cut to an
exterior shot of Shear Beauty, showing the yellow crime scene tape and an
officer standing guard.  “Kelly Carlson was the owner of Shear Beauty, a
popular hair salon on Lakeridge Road.  This morning, she was found bludgeoned
to death in her shop when her assistant arrived for work.  Police do not yet
have a suspect, but they are following up on potential leads.  And they—and the
victim’s family—are asking for the public’s help in solving this crime.”
     
    Then, suddenly, Ryan’s face filled the
screen above the words Detective Ryan Shepherd, Hillside PD.  Someone
off-camera was holding a microphone for him.  “We can’t release very many
details at this time,” Ryan said.  “We’re still very early in the
investigation.  However, we were able to notify Ms. Carlson’s family this
morning, and they have asked us to release her name and to ask anyone who has
any information regarding this crime to please contact the Hillside Police Department.”
     
    Heather snatched up her phone and
tapped out a text—you’re on television!—and pressed send .
     
    “We will keep you updated as this
story unfolds,” Jane Duvall said, wrapping up.  “Brad?”  She turned to her
co-anchor, who now held a sheaf of papers in front of him as he launched into
the next story.
     
    Heather’s phone pinged with an
incoming message.  She read it and smiled. 
     
    I hate being on television.
     
    “Okay, Dave, that’s it,” Heather said,
pointing the remote toward the TV and turning it off.  “That’s all I needed.” 
Dave stood up from his doggie bed in the corner, waited for her to check to
make sure the front door was locked and then turn off the lights, and followed
her down the hall toward her bedroom.
     
    As she changed into flannel pajama
pants and a T-shirt, Dave jumped up onto her bed and curled up into a sleepy
ball.  “So it’s my bed tonight, is it?” Heather asked.  “Okay, stay there.”
     
    She headed into the tiny bathroom off
her room, turned on the water, and waited for it to get warm so she could wash
her face.  Even though she rarely wore makeup, she still made it a point to go
through the ritual of cleansing her face every night.  It was good for her
skin, and besides, the warm water was a nice, relaxing touch as she readied
herself for bed.  
     
    When she had hung her washcloth back
up, she squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush and began to brush her teeth,
staring at her reflection in the mirror.  Something was niggling at the back of
her mind.  What was it?
     
    Bludgeoned inside the shop.  That was
it.  Kelly Carlson had been bludgeoned inside her shop.  That meant she had
probably known her killer—or at least let him or her in. 
     
    Or maybe the killer just walked
through the front door, Heather told herself, playing devil’s advocate.  Maybe
the killer was a customer.
     
    Heather spit her mouthful of
toothpaste foam into the sink.  The police were probably checking out all of
Kelly’s customers from yesterday, she realized, or at least the evening
customers, to see if one of them might have killed her.
     
    But somehow, she had a feeling the
police wouldn’t find any useful information by pursuing that possibility.  It
seemed more likely that the killer wouldn’t be on Kelly’s appointment book. 
Which led Heather back to the probability that Kelly had known her killer and
let the person in.  Because whether the killer had been present in the shop and
had stayed after the last customer left, or whether Kelly had let him or her in
later, the fact remained that she probably wouldn’t have done either of those
two things without knowing the person.
     
    Heather sighed as she turned off the
bedroom light and slipped between the