Page 36 of Donut Disaster

“Oh, it’s you,” I say sweetly. “I met you the night of the surprise party down at Honey Lake.”

He pulls back and squints as if trying to place me. “The night of…”

“Yes, that night.” I glance to the floor, looking perfectly distraught. “It was terrible. How is everyone doing down at the hospital? How is your friend Sandra? She took it particularly hard. I’m sure you all did.”

“She’s doing okay.” He sobers up, and gone is the jovial air about him. “She’s here, in fact.” He glances loosely into the crowd.

“Is there any word on who could have done something like this? Has the sheriff’s department contacted the hospital? I mean, I haven’t heard a single update.”

He shakes his head, and I can’t help but notice his hair touches along the base of his neck. There really is a rocker vibe in general about him, and I wonder if that’s what women find so appealing.

“From what I understand, there will be no updates.” He glances around briefly before stepping in close. “Dr. Dawson wasn’t murdered. He used his own weapon against himself. For reasons we will never know—he wanted to die that night.”

A chill runs through me. But then, at this point the rumors are swirling, and all the poor man has to go on is conjecture.

“Well, that’s just terrible. I guess it’s just a formality then until it’s a closed case. They’re probably waiting to notify family. Hopefully, it won’t come out until after the funeral. From what I hear, that kind of thing is very hard for people to understand.”

“You’re right. It’s a senseless loss. He was well-respected at the hospital and just about everywhere he went.”

“How is his girlfriend handling this?” I decided it’s best to pretend I know nothing of his harem.

“Which one?” He laughs a little too loud, and I can smell the vodka on his breath. But I welcome the levity.

Cookie barks as he jumps up on Dr. Drake’s chest.

“Whoa.” Dr. Drake presses his hand to his shirt and lands his drink back on the bar. “I’d better slow down. We wouldn’t want the hospital to lose two surgeons in a year.” He laughs again, this time a bit more subdued.

“You were saying Dr. Dawson had more than one girlfriend? You mean the two girls I met that night?”

“If only. He had a few more he kept tucked on the side. Let’s just say Dr. Dawson was addicted to fun. Sort of an adrenaline junkie in that respect.”

“It sounds like he led a colorful life.” We share a laugh at his expense. “Hey, actually, his brother asked me to get Dr. Dawson’s girlfriend to speak at the funeral, but now that you mention the others, it might be fun to have more than one or two pretty girls say a few nice things about him. Where can I find these other women? You wouldn’t happen to know their names, would you?”

He winces as he gives a brief look around. “I do, but out of respect for the deceased, I don’t think I should say anything else about his extracurricular hobbies. Let’s just say the girls have an interesting line of work.”

“Okay, but maybe just a name? I’d hate to bother anyone at work anyway.” I so know their line of work. These girls are prostitutes! I’ll have to wear a facemask just to quiz them in order to stave off the diseases. But, then again, the Elite Entourage is technically a dating service. The thought of my new half-sistersandNaomi working there makes me twitchy.

He clasps his chin as he looks to the ceiling. “Let’s see. I think there was one girl he mentioned a few times. He said she was the marrying kind—in the wrong line of work, if you know what I mean. Apple? Alexandria? Aspen!” He snaps his fingers my way.

GAH!

“Aspen?” I bite my tongue just to keep from spilling the fact she’s blood-related to me. “That’s a beautiful name. I’m sure I won’t forget it.” Like ever.

“Don’t know about the last name, though. Good luck tracking her down.”

“I’m sure it’ll be easier than you think.” I take off, and just as I’m about to head to the table, I spot Sandra seated between Noah and Everett at the blackjack table.

Huh.

Cookie comes up and barks with glee. “Maybe this Aspen did it? Let’s find her and have her arrested.” He elongates the Rs in the last word, and it’s charming.

“I doubt it was Aspen,” I whisper. “She’s my half-sister. This is going to get weird fast.”

“What about the doctor? What did you think of him?”

I glance back, and he’s since been swallowed up whole in a sea of estrogen.

“He’s quite the ladies’ man himself. He seems pretty nice, though.”