Read Online Fatally Frosted by Jessica Beck - Free Book Online Page A

structure, isn’t it?”
    “You’re not one of those purists who believe that every old, abandoned train depot should be restored to all of its earlier glory, are you?” I’d had such people come into my shop before, complaining about the lost history I’d destroyed, and I’d grown tired of defending my choice of locations for my shop.
    “No, I’m just happy nobody tore it down altogether. If people can start over, why shouldn’t a building get a second chance at life?” Then he did the most remarkable thing. He reached out and stroked a few bricks, as if he were petting a dog. There was obvious affection in his touch, and I felt my heart softening toward him. I wouldn’t admit to most folks in April Springs, but I too had a love for the old building, and all of the stories it could tell, if only it could talk.
    “That’s what I think, too. So, tell me, David, is that why you’re in April Springs? Are you looking for a second chance?”
    The question was innocent enough, but his face suddenly darkened. “No, that’s not entirely accurate. I’m here searching for my
last
chance, and that’s something else altogether, isn’t it?” He started to walk back toward the diner, then abruptly stopped and pivoted back toward me. “It was nice seeing you, Suzanne.”
    “It was nice seeing you too,” I said.
    I watched him walk down the abandoned tracks until he was gone. What had I said? Had I touched a nerve with my comment? And what did he mean byhis quest for a last chance? Our conversation raised more questions than it had provided answers, but it was pretty clear that my curiosity wasn’t going to be satisfied today.
    I was about to call Grace when I remembered that she was out of town. I’d grown to depend on my friend for her strength, and it bothered me that I couldn’t just run over to her place and see her when I needed to. I could always call her—I knew that—but it just wasn’t the same talking over the phone.
    I was wondering where Jake was at that moment when I heard the door to the donut shop open.
    At least the two cops who came out didn’t have any boxes of poison with them, though they were both carrying armloads of bags from the shop.
    “What are you two taking with you?”
    “Hang on a second, Suzanne,” one of the cops said. It was an officer named Stephen Grant who frequented my shop in his off hours.
    He turned to his partner and said, “Adam, why don’t you call the chief and tell him we’re through here. Ask him if Ms. Hart can get back in her building, would you?”
    “Okay,” his partner said.
    After he was gone, Officer Grant said in a hushed voice, “We didn’t find any poison in your shop, but the chief ordered us to take all of the donuts you had on hand for more testing. Sorry, my hands are tied.”
    “Then she really was poisoned with something from my shop?”
    Officer Grant looked back at his partner, who was still talking to someone on the radio. “You didn’t hear it from me, but yeah, somebody dusted the topof one of your donuts with rat poison, and we’re pretty sure that’s what killed her.”
    I said, “This is a real mess, isn’t it?”
    “We tried to be neat when we searched your place, Suzanne,” he said. He could barely make eye contact with me. Officer Grant was a slim young man barely over the required five feet eight inch requirement to be on the force. It was pretty obvious that the search had bothered him.
    “I’m sure you did your best,” I said. “Don’t let this bother you. I know this wasn’t your idea.”
    He shrugged. “I tried to tell the chief that if you wanted to kill Peg Masterson, you were too smart to spike one of your own donuts, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
    “Thanks. I think,” I said.
    “Don’t worry, it was a compliment. We didn’t find anything that might incriminate you, but then again, I didn’t figure we would.”
    His partner came back and said, “He said it was all clear.”
    “She’s all