Read Online Mint Chip Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 6 by Susan Gillard - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Gillard
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runner-up.”
“That’s great.”
“First runner-up is still first
loser. That—that woman—deserved what she got.”
“You mean the hairdresser who was
murdered recently?” Heather asked innocently.
“Yes. The one who was bludgeoned to
death with her own flat iron.”
“Wow. I didn’t know those things were
heavy enough to kill somebody with.”
“Apparently so. At least, that’s what
the paper said.”
“Hmm. Well, that’s too bad.”
“If you say so,” the woman said with a
sniff.
Yep, Heather thought. That has to be
Lana Sturmer. Who else in town has both a daughter who wins beauty pageants
and an attitude like that?
She finished preparing Lana’s order
and rang it up at the register. When she announced the total, Lana pulled cash
from her purse and thrust it at Heather. She snatched the change Heather
handed her, stuffed it in her wallet, grabbed the boxes of donuts, and stalked
toward the door.
“Whew,” Heather said as the door
closed behind her.
“Who in the world was that?” Maricela
asked.
“Lana Sturmer,” Heather said. “Excuse
me a minute. I have to text Ryan and tell him I talked to her.”
She hurried into her office, retrieved
her phone from her purse in the bottom desk drawer, and rattled off a quick
text. I just met Lana Sturmer. I think. She came into the shop and ordered
donuts. She brought up the murder. But I didn’t ask her any questions. Just
thought you should know.
She laid the phone on her desk, leaned
back in her chair, and swiveled it back and forth, waiting for his return
text. It arrived a couple minutes later. Thanks, babe. Hey, did I tell you
that you looked beautiful last night?
Heather smiled. You might have, she
texted. But you can always tell me again.
You looked beautiful, he answered.
Love you.
Love you too. She hit “send,” dropped
her phone back into her purse, and returned to the kitchen, still smiling.
***
“Ooh, what do you think of this one?”
Amy pointed to the picture on the right-hand page.
“Too low-cut,” Heather said. What was
with wedding gowns these days, anyway?
“Girl, it doesn’t hurt to show a
little cleavage,” Amy said.
“Cleavage? At a wedding?”
“Okay, maybe not,” Amy said, flipping
the page in the bridal magazine. “How about this one?”
“Too frilly,” she said. “I don’t want
to look like it’s my quinceañera. It’s my wedding. My second wedding, no
less.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t look
stylish.”
“And who gets to decide what’s
stylish? Some of these are just plain ugly.”
“True,” Amy conceded. “So let’s find
you one that’s stylish in a way that you like. And in a way that flatters your
gorgeous figure.”
“What gorgeous figure?”
“Yours, girlfriend,” Amy said. “Give
yourself some credit, huh?”
She flipped another page. “Oh, now
here’s one. This one would look fantastic on you.”
“Wow,” Heather breathed. “That’s
gorgeous.” The sheath dress had an asymmetrical neckline with a wide band at
the waist. Sheer fabric rose from the top of the band to gather over one
shoulder and flow down the model’s back to the floor, even longer than the
dress’s short train.
“Think this might be the one?” Amy
asked.
“Maybe so,”
Heather said in awe.
Amy folded down the upper corner of
the page. “We’ll come back to this one,” she said. “So are you going to get
your dress heirloomed?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that
far ahead. Probably so.”
“You have to think about stuff like
that. Do you know yet how much time you have to think about it?”
“We haven’t set a date yet, if that’s
what you’re asking,” Heather said.
“But we’re thinking sometime around
New
“That’s great.”
“First runner-up is still first
loser. That—that woman—deserved what she got.”
“You mean the hairdresser who was
murdered recently?” Heather asked innocently.
“Yes. The one who was bludgeoned to
death with her own flat iron.”
“Wow. I didn’t know those things were
heavy enough to kill somebody with.”
“Apparently so. At least, that’s what
the paper said.”
“Hmm. Well, that’s too bad.”
“If you say so,” the woman said with a
sniff.
Yep, Heather thought. That has to be
Lana Sturmer. Who else in town has both a daughter who wins beauty pageants
and an attitude like that?
She finished preparing Lana’s order
and rang it up at the register. When she announced the total, Lana pulled cash
from her purse and thrust it at Heather. She snatched the change Heather
handed her, stuffed it in her wallet, grabbed the boxes of donuts, and stalked
toward the door.
“Whew,” Heather said as the door
closed behind her.
“Who in the world was that?” Maricela
asked.
“Lana Sturmer,” Heather said. “Excuse
me a minute. I have to text Ryan and tell him I talked to her.”
She hurried into her office, retrieved
her phone from her purse in the bottom desk drawer, and rattled off a quick
text. I just met Lana Sturmer. I think. She came into the shop and ordered
donuts. She brought up the murder. But I didn’t ask her any questions. Just
thought you should know.
She laid the phone on her desk, leaned
back in her chair, and swiveled it back and forth, waiting for his return
text. It arrived a couple minutes later. Thanks, babe. Hey, did I tell you
that you looked beautiful last night?
Heather smiled. You might have, she
texted. But you can always tell me again.
You looked beautiful, he answered.
Love you.
Love you too. She hit “send,” dropped
her phone back into her purse, and returned to the kitchen, still smiling.
***
“Ooh, what do you think of this one?”
Amy pointed to the picture on the right-hand page.
“Too low-cut,” Heather said. What was
with wedding gowns these days, anyway?
“Girl, it doesn’t hurt to show a
little cleavage,” Amy said.
“Cleavage? At a wedding?”
“Okay, maybe not,” Amy said, flipping
the page in the bridal magazine. “How about this one?”
“Too frilly,” she said. “I don’t want
to look like it’s my quinceañera. It’s my wedding. My second wedding, no
less.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t look
stylish.”
“And who gets to decide what’s
stylish? Some of these are just plain ugly.”
“True,” Amy conceded. “So let’s find
you one that’s stylish in a way that you like. And in a way that flatters your
gorgeous figure.”
“What gorgeous figure?”
“Yours, girlfriend,” Amy said. “Give
yourself some credit, huh?”
She flipped another page. “Oh, now
here’s one. This one would look fantastic on you.”
“Wow,” Heather breathed. “That’s
gorgeous.” The sheath dress had an asymmetrical neckline with a wide band at
the waist. Sheer fabric rose from the top of the band to gather over one
shoulder and flow down the model’s back to the floor, even longer than the
dress’s short train.
“Think this might be the one?” Amy
asked.
“Maybe so,”
Heather said in awe.
Amy folded down the upper corner of
the page. “We’ll come back to this one,” she said. “So are you going to get
your dress heirloomed?”
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that
far ahead. Probably so.”
“You have to think about stuff like
that. Do you know yet how much time you have to think about it?”
“We haven’t set a date yet, if that’s
what you’re asking,” Heather said.
“But we’re thinking sometime around
New
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