Goodbye Cruller World by Ginger Bolton

Author:Ginger Bolton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2018-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

The next morning, I was behind the counter at Deputy Donut when another unexpected visitor arrived. Grasping the neck edges of the long beige sweater coat she wore over brown cords and a crisp white blouse, Jenn opened our front door only enough to edge in sideways. She was pale, her hair was hanging down limply, and her eyes were wide with something like fear. She came straight to the counter, leaned toward me, and whispered, “I need your help.”

My heart went out to my bereaved friend. “What would you like me to do?”

“I need your advice. Can you come over for tea with Suzanne and me after you’re done here tonight?” I could barely hear her.

“Five thirty?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Can I bring donuts?” Maybe mentioning donuts was not a good idea....

She gave me a half smile. “Sure. No one seems to be keeling over in here.” Her smile awry, like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, she hurried out.

About a half hour later, Misty and Houlihan came in. They sat near the office again, causing Dep to go through about a million of her come-hither gyrations, seemingly meant to make Misty spend her coffee break in the office snuggling the cat. It didn’t work.

To my surprise, Gerald Stone returned and sat by himself near the retired men. I wanted to believe that he was visiting Deputy Donut two days in a row because he really liked our coffee, donuts, and friendly atmosphere. But my years around police officers had taught me to be alert for signs of danger.

Stone could have returned because he’d guessed that I had told Brent his identity.

Stone could have returned because he wanted to silence me. Or Tom. Or both of us.

Tom seemed to have difficulty keeping an eye on Stone without letting Stone see his face.

Handing Misty a cruller on a plate, I whispered to her, “See that older guy by himself near the front?”

“The guy in the torn sweatshirt?”

“Yes. Watch him, okay? In case he starts dipping other people’s food in arsenic?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You serve that now?”

I did my best to look insulted.

She asked me, “Is he the security guard Brent questioned yesterday?”

“Yes, and he would recognize Tom, so Tom’s trying to watch him while keeping a low profile.”

“Peeking over the half wall, you mean?”

“So that only the fuzzy donut shows.”

Knowing I was joking, she laughed.

I headed for Stone’s table. Maybe he did recognize me from Saturday night and had returned to Deputy Donut to try to figure out if I remembered seeing him at Little Lake Lodge. What would he do to me if he was certain I could report him? Or if he guessed that I already had? I was glad he hadn’t brought a briefcase, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a stash of poison in a pocket. I pasted on a welcoming smile and asked him what he’d like.

He ordered our featured coffee of the day, a Jamaican blend containing a hint of Jamaica’s renowned Blue Mountain beans.

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