Lemon Chiffon Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 8 by Susan Gillard Page B

Brodoteau.”
    “Oh no, of course not, but Paris is beautiful and in between the case and Angelica ’ s arrest, we have managed to see a few things and enjoy ourselves to a certain extent.”
    Heather chuckled and brandished a frosting-covered spoon. “You ’ re only saying that because of your rose-tinted, lovey dovey glasses. Which reminds me, is Kent coming back for the wedding?”
    “Yes,” Amy said, with a happy sigh. “He ’ s coming to be my date and celebrate with you guys.”
    “ Wonderful, we ’ ll be happy to have him.” Heather carried on working the icing, but her thoughts wouldn ’ t stay on the wedding and the donuts she desperately wanted to prepare herself. They were one of the most important parts of the ceremony, and she had to get them right.
    All she could think of was Jane ’ s true murderer.
    “You ’ re still obsessing, aren ’ t you?” Amy asked, twisting the cap on the fake tears opened and closed.
    She ’ d taken to carrying them around and playing with the bottle. She said it helped her thought process. Because Amy was just as determined to get to the bottom of this murder as Heather was.
    “You could say that. I just don ’ t want Jane ’ s murderer to get away with this, and I ’ m sure they ’ re still around.” Heather pushed the bowl to one side and eyed it out. “I mean, what ’ s to say they won ’ t try killing one of us next?”
    “I thought about that too,” Amy said, nodding.
    Heather picked up the scent of almonds and wrinkled her nose. “Right? We ’ re only lucky that Angelica didn ’ t try to taste the icing after the killer had poisoned it.” She shuddered, then rubbed her forearms.
    The smell of the donuts was warm and welcoming, but she kept picking up that almond scent. Which was strange, since she ’ d only added nutmeg to the batter. Heather walked to the massive oven and peered through the glass, at her baking babies.
    They looked crisp and perfect. The timer went off, so Heather slipped on some oven mitts, opened the door, then removed the trays and placed them on one of the counters.
    They were golden brown, crinkled just as cruellers should be, and steaming lightly.
    She inserted the next row of trays. There was nothing as rewarding and therapeutic as baking these donuts.
    Sure, she couldn ’ t bake a chocolate cake to save her life, but donuts, oh boy, she was the master, if she did say so, or rather, think so herself.
    “Do you want to go over the facts again?” Amy asked.
    “Yes, let ’ s do that.” Heather said, walking back to her spot at the counter, because she couldn ’ t ice the donuts while they were hot.
    “Bear was actually in love with Jane, but betrayed her after her death. He smoked, and we know the killer most likely smoked,” Amy said, ticking the facts off on her fingers, using the fake tear drop bottle as a pointer. “And he clearly wanted us to stop investigating, since he wanted us arrested.”
    “Then there ’ s the letter from Lori, who also smoked, and who resented Jane, and did the whole fake tears thing,” Heather said, eying the bottle. “Not that we know those are actually eye drops. Have you used them?”
    “No way, I just like fiddling with the bottle. Besides, it ’ s got a nice smell. Kinda like almonds, I like it,” Amy said, opening the bottle and sniffing at the cap. “I wonder if it ’ s some kind of calming medicine. Maybe I should take some.” She laughed as she said it and lifted the bottle higher.
    “No!” Heather yelled.
    Amy jerked and slapped the bottle down on the counter. She jumped off her chair and looked around. “What is it?”
    “I know that smell,” Heather said, and rushed over to her friend. “Go wash your hands in that sink, right away.” She took the cap from between Amy ’ s fingers, sniffed it and grimaced.
    She closed the bottle top.
    Amy hurried to the sink and did as she was told. “What on earth has gotten into you?”
    “These aren ’ t fake