Sour Crime Donuts, page 8
The hairs on my arms stood on end. The man was Vic Throppen, a detective from the Wisconsin Division of Criminal Investigation.
That meant that Brent had learned enough during his investigation to suspect homicide, and he’d asked for help from the DCI. Vic would now take the lead on Adam’s case.
If anything, Vic looked thinner and more drawn than the last time I’d seen him, and his nose seemed even pointier, as if sniffing out clues had sharpened it. Vic could be fair, and I hoped that he would be this time. But he was about as empathetic as a slab of concrete.
Brent and Misty stood unmoving until conversation and clatter in the dining room died down. Brent announced, “We have to ask all of the customers to take your personal belongings and leave through this door, please.” As always, his voice was deep and warm, but now it held authority that no one would want to ignore.
Finally, he stared toward the kitchen where Tom, Olivia, Jocelyn, and I stood as if turned to our own form of concrete. “Deputy Donut staff, please remain where you are.”
Jerry Creavus was one of the first people to stand. “Detective Fyne, what’s going on?”
Brent’s answer was curt. “We’ll explain later.”
Customers gulped down the last of their drinks and donuts, grabbed purses and bags, and filed out, good-naturedly enough. Holding the door for them, Misty smiled. As always, she was beautiful, but now distress showed in the set of her jaw and the wrinkle between her eyebrows.
Jerry told her consolingly, and in his booming voice, “Police business, Officer Ritsorf, we understand.” He stood back and let the other customers file outside, and then, as if he himself had rounded them up, he followed some of them north on Wisconsin Street toward the municipal offices, which were in the same building as the police station.
I fiddled with my apron strings. I always looped them around and tied them in a bow in front, with the apron folded over the strings to shorten the apron and keep it from twisting around my knees when I walked.
Tom stood at attention and watched Brent.
Olivia reached for the marble counter of our kitchen island as if to steady herself.
Jocelyn folded her arms and raised her chin in an unspoken question. Or a challenge.
Brent singled her out. “Jocelyn, can you come here and lock the front door?” He tapped the table beside him, one of our two largest ones. “Then I’d like to talk to you here.”
Jocelyn dropped her arms to her sides. “Okay.” She started toward the front.
Brent came closer. “Olivia, will you please let Tyler and Detective Throppen into the office and lock the door behind them? Misty will interview Tom, and Vic Throppen will interview Emily. And Olivia, stay in the office. Tyler will interview you there. We have only a few questions for each of you.”
Biting her lower lip, Olivia started toward the office.
Near the kitchen, Brent picked up two of our dining chairs, one in each hand. “Emily, mind talking to Vic in the storeroom?”
“Of course not. Here, let me take one of those chairs.”
Carrying the chair through the kitchen, I nodded toward the window into the office and then turned and asked Brent, who was behind me with the other chair, “Is Dep going to be a problem?”
Finally, Brent smiled, though it was strained. “She seems quite happy to be shedding all over Tyler’s uniform.”
I took a better look through the window from the kitchen to the office. Blushing, Tyler seemed to be listening to Olivia while he cradled Dep like a baby in his arms. I suspected that Dep was purring so loudly that we almost should have been able to hear her through the glass. Tyler reached into a pocket of his armored vest, took out a notebook, and passed Dep to Olivia. Then they both sat down, and I could see only the sides of their faces. Olivia was blushing, too.
Leading Brent toward the storeroom, I smiled.
Olivia.
Although I was fond of matchmaking, I hadn’t come up with any ideas of who in Fallingbrook might suit Olivia. And there he was, Tyler, the quiet, serious officer who sometimes patrolled with Misty or her regular partner Hooligan, who was taking time off to be with his and Samantha’s baby. Samantha was the other one of my best friends since junior high.
Brent brought me back to the somewhat unnerving present. “Let’s set these chairs near the back door, and Vic can interview you there.”
“Okay.”
Vic hadn’t yet followed us into the storeroom. Brent placed both hands on my shoulders. “Sorry to close your shop early and worry you folks.”
“It’s okay.”
Brent always had good reasons. Which was why I tensed with alarm.
He pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. “And Em?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t look so worried.”
I gave him a bleak smile. “I’ll try.” I reached up with both hands, stroked the sides of his face, and whispered, “You’re good at your job and I love you for it.”
He gently kissed my lips. “Thanks for understanding. You know how much I love you, and I hope to be home before daybreak.”
Brisk footsteps approached us through the kitchen.
Brent let go of me and headed toward the kitchen. Vic came around the corner. The two men nodded at each other, and then Brent went out of my sight. I hoped Vic didn’t hear my too-loud sigh.
Gesturing for me to sit on one of the chairs, Vic took the other. Unlike Brent, he didn’t apologize for the disruption. He handed me a pen and a stapled set of papers. “Brent asked me to have you read your statement, make any necessary corrections, and sign it when it’s satisfactory.”
Brent had summarized everything I’d told him the night before. I signed the statement and gave it to Vic along with the pen. He tucked the statement behind his back and balanced his notebook on his knee. “And now I have some questions for you, Emily. Can you tell me the ingredients of the donuts you made for the first time yesterday, the ones you folks call ‘peachy sour cream donuts’ and that you told Brent were in the box you found last evening underneath an overhang of rock?”
“I can give you the recipe.”
He lifted a hand to stop me. “I want to hear your version.”
I listed the ingredients in the donuts and then the ingredients in the frosting.
When I was done, Vic asked, “Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Are you certain you haven’t forgotten anything?”
I recited the ingredients again. “Did I miss an ingredient one of the times?” I was sure I hadn’t.
“No.” As if he doubted me, he drew out the word. “You listed the same ingredients, and in the same order.”
Why was he hinting that I’d forgotten something? I eased forward a little on my chair and guessed, “Did the forensics lab find something in the donuts that I didn’t mention?” Maybe we had different names for the same ingredients.
Vic didn’t exactly answer my question. “Did you put any nuts in your batter?”
“There were no nuts in our peachy sour cream donuts, but some of the other donuts that people bought yesterday when they bought our peachy donuts contained nuts. And we always have an inventory of nuts of various types.”
“You said ‘flour.’ What kinds of flour did you use in your peachy sour cream donuts?”
“Unbleached all-purpose wheat flour.”
“Did you mix it with other flours?”
“No.”
“Do you have almond flour on the premises?”
I smoothed my apron over my knees. “Yes, but we haven’t used any this week, and we didn’t put any in those donuts.”
He scowled. “You don’t need to jump to conclusions.” He pulled a folded document out of the chest pocket of his suit jacket. With a flick of the wrist, he gave it a shake that unfolded it. “I brought a search warrant.”
Although he didn’t hand it to me, I was able to read it. “You’re searching for almonds, almond products including almond flour and ground almonds? We have almonds and almond flour. I can show them to you.”
“The forensics investigators will do the searching, thank you. Could someone have added almond products to those donuts accidentally?”
“Unlikely, and I’m almost sure that we didn’t. All four of us worked together to create the first batch of batter, and then whoever was available mixed up the later batches. I didn’t notice anyone looking for other ingredients besides the ones we’d started using early in the day.”
“Didn’t notice.” He emphasized the second word.
“I’m sure they would have asked the rest of us before they changed the recipe we’d all agreed on. We took notes as we went along and wrote down the final version.”
Vic asked again, “Could someone have added different ingredients by accident?”
“Anything’s possible, but I doubt it.” I looked off into the distance. “Some almond flour in peach-flavored donuts might be a good idea, though.”
Vic tucked the top of the search warrant underneath the notebook, clamping the open search warrant to his knee and making it easy for me to continue reading it. I looked at it again, and then raised my head in surprise. “And you’re searching for cardamom?”
Without answering, he stared steadily at my face.
I told him, “We have some with our other spices, but none of that was in those donuts, either.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, though it would be a good addition. We didn’t think of it when we were concocting the recipe.” I read more of the search warrant. “Okay, peaches. Those were definitely in those donuts, and we might still have some. You’ll probably also find fresh apricots.” I read more. “You’re also going to search for peach products. Yes, peach extract was in both the donuts and the frosting. I don’t understand why you’d be looking for the stones from peaches, both whole and separated. What does that mean?”
“What it says.” Vic was writing in his notebook, but I gave him what I thought might be as piercing a look as any of his. “Are you saying that peach pits were in the donuts in that box? I’m sure we didn’t put any of those into our batter. For one thing, they’re big, and we would have noticed.”
Vic put down his pen and met my gaze. “What were the solid, crunchy bits in those donuts?”
“Crunchy like sand? Whoever put the box under the overhanging rock piled dirt and dead leaves on it. Some of that stuff might have gotten into the donuts, especially in the frosting.”
“Not as gritty and solid as sand, and not dirt, and not crumbled dead leaves. This was like nut pieces, ground small, but not as small as in almond flour.”
“You’re hinting that we put ground-up peach pits in our donuts. We don’t have anything that could grind up peach stones. Those are hard.” I thought a second. “But they do crack open sometimes, and the interior kernels resemble almonds, but aren’t those kernels toxic?”
“You tell me.”
“I forget, but none of us would have ground up those kernels and put them into anything, and I’m sure that none of us did.”
I leaned toward the search warrant again. There was one more set of things that the police were entitled to search for—appliances used for chopping or grinding nuts. I told Vic, “We have lots of things that can be used to grind or chop nuts—knives, nut choppers, spice grinders, and coffee grinders. We didn’t use any of those things for grinding peach kernels, and we didn’t chop them up with knives, either.”
“Were you watching all of those appliances at all times yesterday? And all of your knives?”
I had to admit that I hadn’t been. I frowned toward some of the storeroom’s shelves, covered with many of the bowls, pans, and other things we used, like nut choppers and spice grinders. “I don’t see how ground peach pits, almond flour, and cardamom could have been in our donuts. Even though the box I found was ours, the donuts in it must have come from somewhere else.”
“As I understand from Brent, you were the one who saw the donuts, and you told him that the donuts in the box were some that you and the others made here yesterday.”
“They certainly looked and smelled like them, but I didn’t try one.”
He squinched his lips together as if he’d just sucked on a sour peach.
I suggested, “Could one of the people who bought the donuts yesterday have adulterated them? That would be hard to do after they were baked, but anyone could have scraped the frosting off, added things to it, and refrosted the donuts, I suppose.” I slapped my hand across my mouth. “Oh!”
Vic leaned forward. The search warrant started to slide out from between his notebook and his knee. “Did you remember something?” He caught the search warrant before it could land on the floor.
I dropped both hands into my lap. “The day before yesterday, I heard a noise out there.” I gestured toward the window in the storeroom door. “Do you know who Izzy is? Isabella Korinth?”
“The person who found the body.” The words came out in a rapid monotone, as if he couldn’t wait to be done with them.
“The day before yesterday, she was in here. She told Jocelyn, Olivia, and me about the greenhouse project she planned for the land where Adam Nofftry later died. After Izzy left, she removed a paper bag from our compost bin, and I’m almost certain that it was a bag I’d thrown out that had contained peach skins and stones. She took the bag of whatever it was away with her.”
“Why would she do all that?” His tone made it clear that he believed Izzy had intentionally used the insides of peach pits to poison Adam.
I explained as calmly as I could, “The peaches we’d served her were especially delicious. I figured that she wanted to start seedlings. She does want to grow peach trees in greenhouses, eventually.”
Vic said in a dry tone, “Starting trees from seeds now for some unknown eventual date is planning ahead.”
“She’s very enthusiastic and optimistic about her project. I’m sure she wasn’t taking them with the idea of poisoning anyone. I . . . I had met her before, when she was a little girl. I spent an entire day with her then, and I can’t imagine her attempting to poison anyone. Besides, she took that bag in full daylight. She had to have known that anyone could have seen her.” I didn’t think it was necessary to tell Vic that, after she closed the compost bin, she’d appeared to look around as if to see if anyone was watching. She’d been next to a parking lot that people often cut through. It was natural to check for speeding vehicles. I added, “Plus, she seems to like me and to have happy memories of the day we spent together years ago. If she truly does like me, inserting poisons in donuts from my shop would be strange.”
“Didn’t you tell Brent that she seemed to be attracted to a man who was on that property arguing with the deceased?”
“Yes. And the attraction appeared to be mutual.”
“But then she told Brent that she saw that same man near the scene shortly before she discovered the deceased. Would it also be strange for her to try to cast suspicion on a man she liked?”
“She’s very direct. Honest, I believe, and young and innocent. And I think she lost some of her interest in the man after she saw him in here with a woman.”
“Maybe she realized she needed to provide us with a suspect besides herself. And, as you told Brent, Isabella Korinth was one of the people who bought your peachy sour cream donuts yesterday.” Vic shut his notebook and put his pen and the search warrant in pockets. “That’s all I need from you now. You won’t be able to open tomorrow, and probably Wednesday, too.”
“Okay.” Other than missing out on some revenue, closing for those two days wouldn’t affect me much. I usually took Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, but Olivia and Jocelyn liked to work every day that they possibly could. Would being closed for a police investigation damage our reputation and cut our future revenue? I managed not to groan.
Vic stood and picked up the statement I’d signed. “We’ll let you know when you can open.” He walked to the door leading to our loading dock. “Meanwhile, do not discuss this case with anyone. You can go out this way. I’ll lock the door behind you.”
“I need to collect my cat from the office. And my purse. It’s actually a backpack.”
“Is your car in the lot behind the building?”
“Yes.”
“Wait out there. One of the officers will let you know when you can come to your other back door for your cat and your purse.”
So, Vic didn’t trust me to simply walk through the shop. I took off my apron and hat, hung the hat on its hook, and tossed the apron into the container our laundry service provided.
Outside, the afternoon was still hot. My car was in the shade of a tall tree. I got into the driver’s seat, rolled down the windows, and stared at the back of Deputy Donut.
Our kitchen had no windows to the outdoors, but the office had windows on all four sides. Olivia sat in the desk chair with her back to me. She must have been the one talking. Using her arms and hands, she gestured widely. In breaks from taking notes, Tyler reached out and petted Dep, curled on the sofa and crowding his thigh. He kept nodding and giving Olivia encouraging looks. Maybe after the interview, she would offer Tyler the use of the lint roller we kept in the office.
Tom must have been let out the front door. He walked up the driveway, spotted me in my car, and came to my open driver’s window. “Emily, let’s pay Jocelyn and Olivia—”
I interrupted. “For the days they have to miss? I was thinking the same thing.”
“It’s going to be okay, Emily.”
“When do you think we’ll be allowed to talk to one another about our interviews?”
“Probably after they compare what we all said. Don’t worry. As if you could help it. As if either of us could. Meanwhile, I’ll head off. Neighbors are having a barbecue and pool party, and many guests, including Cindy, will already be in the pool.”
“Have a great time, and give my love to Cindy.”
“I will.” He patted my car door, turned, and strode toward his SUV. Like Brent’s and Adam Nofftry’s, Tom’s SUV was black. It hadn’t collected much dust in that parking lot since early morning, but thanks to the afternoon’s fierce sunshine, it was probably stifling inside.
