Page 25 of Donut Disaster
“Because of it?” both Cascade and I say in unison.
Cassie averts her gaze toward Alex, who is presently being accosted by both Lily and Naomi. Speaking of duking it out, that looks as if it’s about to turn nasty, but something tells me Alex can hold his own. I glance back at the war breaking out behind me and wonder if I can hold my own.
Cascade clicks her tongue at the carnage up front. “I’d best remind Naomi that she’s still punching a clock at this place. I’m sure they would frown upon the idea of upper management pulling the hair of herbestie.” That last word drips out with both sarcasm and air quotes as she takes off.
I take a step in toward Cassie. “Are you related to Cascade?” I try to sound both chipper and kind in order to win her confidence, but right now all I want to do is smash a chair over Lily and Naomi—and maybe Everett and Noah. World War III is not a good look on anyone. And why exactly am I so cranky today? Perhaps the fact I got up at three in order to fry a bazillion glazed donuts—crullers included—has something to do with it. A girl needs her sleep, and God knows I require a solid eight.
“She’s my aunt,” Cassie offers. “She’s always been my go-to person when life gets tough. And right about now, it’s pretty tough.”
“I’m sorry. Do you have any idea who would want to hurt Morgan?” It felt foreign calling him by his first name. I much prefer Dr. Dawson, but I wanted to use something more familiar to her.
The muscles in her jaw clench. Her eyes stray to some invisible horizon. “I don’t know.” She shivers as if she does.
I can’t help but think her body is calling her out on the lie.
“Do you think he owed anyone money?” I take her in with her long wavy hair, her hourglass figure, her face that could launch a thousand ships. Why in the world was Dr. Dawson paying for dates? Maybe that was before he met Cassie? Or maybe that’s what he used to fill his dry spell with once they broke up?
Cookie bounds over and barks up a storm. “This one looks guilty, Lottie. Don’t you think?”
I shake my head at him. Not because I believe strongly in Cassie’s innocence, but that’s not the way the justice system works. Just because you look guilty, doesn’t mean you are.
Cassie tips her head to the side. “You know, he was wealthy. He worked hard at the hospital, but he played hard, too. I’m thinking that’s what got him into trouble.” Her lips flicker like a flame ready to extinguish itself. “He played a little too hard, if you know what I mean. But I loved him. Yes, I did—despite all the deceitful facts.” Her eyes flood with tears as she takes off for the refreshment table and goes straight for one of my double chocolate donuts with confetti sprinkles.
Cookie barks up at me. “What did you glean, Lottie? That sounded like an incriminating statement to me. Turn her in to the nearest deputy.”
I glance back at Noah and Everett, still carrying on with their heated conversation.
“I think we should dig a little more. We’ll come back to this one.”
I head over to the donut spread myself and pick up one of my light and airy crullers that has everyone reaching for them at once.
Cassie seems to know all about Dr. Dawson’s cheating ways. Why on earth would she tolerate that?
Lily tosses a book at Naomi, and Alex catches it midflight. Suddenly, he’s standing with his arms parted between the bickering two.
I glance over to Noah and Everett, who both have the veins in their necks distended. The tone of their conversation sounds heated with fury.
Love can make you clinically insane if you let it. In fact, it can drive you to the brink of madness even in a public setting. It can make you forget that you’re a manager of the very establishment you’re threatening to wring someone’s neck in, a baker’s assistant, a seasoned detective, a judge. I’m betting it can make you forget you’re in a public setting, like a lake, in a crowd of hundreds of people with a fireworks display shooting off overhead.
Cassie said she loved Dr. Dawson.
And I wonder if that’s exactly what killed him.
Chapter 8
One of my greatest joys in life is getting to the bakery early in the morning when the sun has hardly crested the horizon and all of Main Street is covered with its peachy glow. Sure, I have to pry my eyelids open once the alarm goes off, and I curse myself for even thinking of opening a bakery at least ten times before I ever get into my frozen car, but once I get the mixer going, once the heavenly scent of vanilla and sugar hits the air, I’m intoxicated by my passion all over again.
I’ve been in the kitchen for two hours straight frying up batch after batch of donuts with Cookie Monster sitting staunchly by my side. His onyx-colored fur is not only glossy and thick, but he seems to have an entire solar system trapped in his fur. He’s mesmerizing and gorgeous and a pure pleasure to have around.
“So you see,” I say to him—and might I add, he’s a darn good listener, far better than my sweet cats—“in an attempt to keep up with the onslaught, I’m having to fry up a triple batch.”
“Don’t forget to give one to me, Lottie. Just because I can’t have it doesn’t mean I won’t try. Sort of like your Noah.”
“Yes.” I frown over at his rather astute observation. “And, of course, the donuts take me right back to that night at the lake that I found Dr. Dawson clutching one of my crullers. Poor Dr. Dawson. Whoever killed him really wanted him dead and no doubt the bullet proves that. But that lethal dose of that street drug? Did they think that would lessen his suffering? I can’t imagine what the point of that injection was. Noah said he found shoeprints at the crime scene, but then he pointed out there were hundreds of people at the lake that night. And to be honest, I don’t think you would be here if there wasn’t a crime to solve.”
I sigh as I pull another batch of crullers from the boiling oil.
“Yes,” Cookie muses. “There were many people at the lake. Imagine my surprise when I saw Jeremy. Just before I passed, they had already had a fatal falling out.”