slightly. “I don’t care, but there’s no need for you to hang around here. I’m done with you.”
“For good?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that, but I would say for now.”
“Okay, I can live with that,” I said.
I turned to Marge. “You don’t have to stay here, either. Why don’t you come to the donut shop with me? I’ll treat you to cup of coffee and a bear claw.”
Chief Martin interrupted. “Actually, that’s the one place you can’t go right now, Suzanne.” He glanced at his watch, then said, “Give my men an hour, and then you can go back to your shop.”
I hadn’t been expecting that. “What? They’re searching my business? I thought you needed a warrant for that.”
“We do, and that donut was all it took to get one. Funny, I thought you’d welcome a search of your business. How else can we clear your name from our list of suspects?”
“You didn’t have to get a warrant. I would have gladly given you my permission to search my shop.”
“It’s neater this way,” he said.
I started for the door, but then I realized that Marge wasn’t behind me. “Aren’t you coming? I’m sure we can find a cup of coffee somewhere.”
She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind,” she said.
I wasn’t about to argue with her. I just wanted to get out of there. I walked out to my Jeep, got in, started it, then sat there wondering where I should go. I wasn’t about to head home, for fear of the grilling I would get from my mother, and I’d been ordered not to go back to Donut Hearts. Grace was out of town on her business trip for a few days, so I couldn’t call her.
I noticed the new policeman watching me, so I put the Jeep in gear and drove off. I might not be able to go back to the donut shop, but I could do the next best thing. I was going to the Boxcar grill to get some coffee, and keep an eye on what was going on in my shop from across the tracks.
The owner, Trish Granger, frowned when I walked into the Boxcar, an old train car that she had converted into a diner. One long wall offered booths, while the other sported a long counter for diners to sit while they ate. An attached structure housed the kitchen, so stepping into the train car was a little like stepping back in time. Trish was in her early thirties, neat and trim, with her blonde hair in a constant ponytail.
“You’re having a hard day, aren’t you?” she asked.
There were few customers in the diner at 10:30 in the morning.
It was a slow time for me normally at the donut shop as well. “Not as tough as Peg Masterson is having,” I said as I slid onto a stool near her. “How’d you find out what happened so quickly?”
“Emma came over here when she couldn’t get hold of you. She was pretty upset when the police shut the place down.”
I’d wondered why she hadn’t warned me about what was happening at my shop. “Why didn’t she call me?”
Trish shrugged. “You tell me. She said her calls to you went straight to your voice mail. Is your phone on?”
I felt like such an idiot as I dove into my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I’d turned it off so it wouldn’t interfere with my demonstration, and I’d forgotten to turn it back on in all the turmoil that had followed.
“Hang on a second,” I said as I saw that I had two dozen voice mail messages since last night. That would take too long, so I punched in Emma’s number, and she picked up before it had time to finish the first ring.
“Suzanne, are you all right?” she asked the second she answered. Emma had explained that she had a song for each of her callers to identify them with when they called. My song was “Ain’t No Sunshine,” because we worked most of our hours in the middle of the night.
“I’m fine. How are you doing?”
She started crying as she spoke, and I knew she was really upset. In the years Emma and I had worked together, I couldn’t recall a time that I’d ever seen
“For good?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that, but I would say for now.”
“Okay, I can live with that,” I said.
I turned to Marge. “You don’t have to stay here, either. Why don’t you come to the donut shop with me? I’ll treat you to cup of coffee and a bear claw.”
Chief Martin interrupted. “Actually, that’s the one place you can’t go right now, Suzanne.” He glanced at his watch, then said, “Give my men an hour, and then you can go back to your shop.”
I hadn’t been expecting that. “What? They’re searching my business? I thought you needed a warrant for that.”
“We do, and that donut was all it took to get one. Funny, I thought you’d welcome a search of your business. How else can we clear your name from our list of suspects?”
“You didn’t have to get a warrant. I would have gladly given you my permission to search my shop.”
“It’s neater this way,” he said.
I started for the door, but then I realized that Marge wasn’t behind me. “Aren’t you coming? I’m sure we can find a cup of coffee somewhere.”
She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind,” she said.
I wasn’t about to argue with her. I just wanted to get out of there. I walked out to my Jeep, got in, started it, then sat there wondering where I should go. I wasn’t about to head home, for fear of the grilling I would get from my mother, and I’d been ordered not to go back to Donut Hearts. Grace was out of town on her business trip for a few days, so I couldn’t call her.
I noticed the new policeman watching me, so I put the Jeep in gear and drove off. I might not be able to go back to the donut shop, but I could do the next best thing. I was going to the Boxcar grill to get some coffee, and keep an eye on what was going on in my shop from across the tracks.
The owner, Trish Granger, frowned when I walked into the Boxcar, an old train car that she had converted into a diner. One long wall offered booths, while the other sported a long counter for diners to sit while they ate. An attached structure housed the kitchen, so stepping into the train car was a little like stepping back in time. Trish was in her early thirties, neat and trim, with her blonde hair in a constant ponytail.
“You’re having a hard day, aren’t you?” she asked.
There were few customers in the diner at 10:30 in the morning.
It was a slow time for me normally at the donut shop as well. “Not as tough as Peg Masterson is having,” I said as I slid onto a stool near her. “How’d you find out what happened so quickly?”
“Emma came over here when she couldn’t get hold of you. She was pretty upset when the police shut the place down.”
I’d wondered why she hadn’t warned me about what was happening at my shop. “Why didn’t she call me?”
Trish shrugged. “You tell me. She said her calls to you went straight to your voice mail. Is your phone on?”
I felt like such an idiot as I dove into my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I’d turned it off so it wouldn’t interfere with my demonstration, and I’d forgotten to turn it back on in all the turmoil that had followed.
“Hang on a second,” I said as I saw that I had two dozen voice mail messages since last night. That would take too long, so I punched in Emma’s number, and she picked up before it had time to finish the first ring.
“Suzanne, are you all right?” she asked the second she answered. Emma had explained that she had a song for each of her callers to identify them with when they called. My song was “Ain’t No Sunshine,” because we worked most of our hours in the middle of the night.
“I’m fine. How are you doing?”
She started crying as she spoke, and I knew she was really upset. In the years Emma and I had worked together, I couldn’t recall a time that I’d ever seen
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