Page 37 of Donut Disaster
Cookie gives a few quick barks. “He has an aura of darkness about him. Something isn’t right. I get the feeling he was leading you astray.” He hops up and cranes his neck in the doctor’s direction. “In fact, I think he’s leading everybody astray.”
“I’ll make a note of it.” Honestly, I don’t have any reason not to trust Cookie’s intuition. Sandra catches my eye once again. “In fact, I think I know who to ask a few questions regarding the good doctor.” Here’s hoping she has the answers—and is willing to part with them.
I glide in next to Noah and say a cheery hello. “Anyone winning big?”
Cassie laughs. “Nobody wins big but the hospital and me.” She gives an exaggerated wink to the guests at her table. “Don’t forget to tip.”
It all feels like play money anyway since we had to convert our dollars into chips when we bought the tickets at the door.
Sandra laughs as she looks my way, and I note the jewel toned drink next to her. “We’re having a hoot!” Her silver hair is primped and curled, and she’s wearing a matching silver gown that has her shimmering like a constellation.
“I’m glad to see it. How are you doing? I just spoke to Dr. Drake, and he seems to be holding strong.”
“Oh, we both are.” She shrugs as if to saywhat are you gonna do?“Drake Nylan is getting the position, you know.” Her brows hike a notch as if she approved. “They’ll be holding a small ceremony next week at the hospital.”
“Nylan?” I shake my head, completely unaware of who this person is.
She taps her lips with her fingers. “I’m sorry. That’s my ex, Nylan.” Her fingers tap over her lips again. “I meant Colin Drake.” She rolls her eyes at her own error.
“Well, that’s nice for Colin. The ceremony sounds nice, too.” I glance to Noah and Everett, and they both seem to be agreeing to the same idea. “You know, I run a bakery and I would love to bring by a platter of my cookies. Do you think that would be okay?”
“Oh, heavens yes. The reception will be in the conference center next Tuesday at eleven.”
“Perfect. I’ll be early to drop the goodies off.”
She plays another round, and Everett wins. His cheek glides up in my direction, and judging by that bite of heat, my body appreciates any look he’s willing to give me.
Sandra takes her drink and leaves a few chips for Cassie in the tip jar. I walk a few steps away from the table with her, and Cookie jumps about as if Sandra were delivering a steak with his name on it.
“How’s your sister doing?” I decide to make small talk, and being that the only thing I remember about her is the fact Dr. Dawson said she was a saint for taking care of her sister—that and the visual of her falling to her knees—I went with the sister.
“She’s about the same, but that’s good news for someone like her.” She leans in and I note how pretty her pale blue eyes are. They remind me a lot of Nell’s. “How did he seem to you?”
I’m taken aback by the question. “Dr. Drake?” I glance back to find him still engulfed with girls. “He was fine. In fact, he’s better now judging by the sea of women he’s surrounded in.”
She’s quick to wave it off. “Those boys were always getting into trouble with women.” She knocks back the rest of her drink. “It’s not a wonder he ended up dead. With that lifestyle, you’re practically asking for trouble.”
“What about Dr. Drake? Is he living in the fast lane, too?”
She glances back at him, her eyes growing cold as she spots him. “You tell me. Listen. Some like it hot, if you know what I mean. Women are the same, you know. I like it hot sometimes, too.” She toasts me with her drink as she takes off.
Cookie barks as she takes off. “Who did it, Lottie? Certainly you can narrow things down by now. Who killed my boy Morgan?”
I look back to Cassie as she does her best to flirt with Noah and Everett, trying to reel in as big a tip as she can from the two of them.
“I don’t know,” I say as I watch Cassie dole out the cards, laughing up a storm at something Noah just said. Her boyfriend isn’t even in the ground yet, and she’s right back to work, at a gala, smiling for all the world to see.
If anything happened to Noah and Everett, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get out of bed for a month if I tried. I certainly couldn’t look my best, stand on my feet, and carry on a conversation, let alone do simple math for the house.
Maybe the answer to this one is easier than I think.
After all, in most homicide investigations, you don’t have to look too far to find the killer.
Are you a killer, Cassie?
She looks up as if she heard and gives another sly wink.
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