Susan Gillard - Lemon Chiffon Murder

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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2016 by Guardian Publishing Group - All rights reserved.

All rights Reserved. No part of this publication or the information in it may be quoted from or reproduced in any form by means such as printing, scanning, photocopying or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

The Hotel Saint James was positively opulent.

It definitely wasnt what Heather and Dave were accustomed to, a far cry from their beloved Donut Delights, but it already felt like a home away from home.

I cant believe were here, Heather said, sighing.

I know. At last. After all this time, Ryan replied, squeezing her hand.

Their engagement party was in full swing, set in the gorgeous dining room of their hotel. They sat on antique leather chairs and sofas, with a wall of books to their left and champagne on the quaint wooden table in front of them.

The wedding was just a week away, and after months of planning, and the hope that Ryans schedule would finally clear up enough for them to go through with it, they were finally in France.

Theyd planned on having the wedding just before Christmas, but that had totally fallen through because of their busy schedule.

Heather couldnt stop smiling. She clinked the rim of her champagne glass against Ryans and they took a sip each.

The low rumble of talk at the tables was a noise which warmed Heather from the inside out.

Everyone whod been invited had turned up for their mini-holiday. Amy and her date, Kent Bentley, as well as the news reporter Jane Duvall, who was an old friend. Eva hadnt been able to make it after her recent accident, but Amy had sworn to record every detail and send it back to her and Soupy that very evening.

Whos that? Heather asked, pointing to a stranger sitting at the table opposite Amys, sipping champagne and talking amicably with a short, blonde woman.

That? Ryan squinted at the guy for a second, then nodded. Pretty sure thats Bear Trapp.

Wait a second, Heather said, raising an eyebrow. The Bear Trapp? As in Roger Bear Trapp the paparazzo?

The very same.

What in heavens name is he doing at our engagement party? Heather slurped a little more champagne it was her party after all, she could relax for a change.

I have no idea, Ryan replied, and scratched the back of his neck.

They had picked up a lot of publicity lately. Hillside was relatively small, and Donut Delights was popular, Heather more so after solving a few crimes. News of their soiree had travelled through the town like wildfire.

I guess they have to sell newspapers, somehow, Heather said, with a shrug.

Dave shifted underneath the table and licked at her ankle, just above the silver strap of her low slung heel. All right, Dave, just one more, she said, then slipped an appetizer off her plate a mini-croissant and into his waiting mouth.

Dave snuffled a bit because it wasnt a donut, but gobbled it up anyway.

Greedy guts. Heather nudged him with the toe of her shoe. She straightened and looked towards the entrance. Angelica was supposed to bring a selection of their newest donuts, prepared specifically for the engagement party and wedding, through for the guests.

Theyd spent a great deal of time discussing the invention of the perfect donut, and had come up with Lemon Chiffon cruller donuts. They were light, sweet and with a bit of a zing.

Angelica had insisted they would suit Heathers personality and the wedding as well.

Clink, clink, clink.

May I have your attention, please? Amys voice rang out.

Heather turned to face her friend, who stood atop the spiraling dark metal staircase at the far end of the dining room.

Amy beamed at her bestie and clinked the fork to the glass again. Come on, guys, I didnt clamber up these stairs in these heels for nothin. She gestured to her black stilettos and the crowd of onlookers chuckled.

As you all know, were spending our time in this lovely hotel in gorgeous Paris, I mean Paris of all places, to celebrate with my best friend and belle of the ball, Heather Janke, Amy said, and pointed with the silverware.

A smattering of applause in the room, and then an easy quiet fell.

I think its past time I give my toast. Ive known Heather since

The doors at the far end of the hall slapped open. Nobody move! A man said, striding into their midst, wearing the crisp blue beret of the Parisian police force.

What is the meaning of this? Ryan asked, rising from his seat.

Heather followed suit, and Dave barked a few threats at the cops.

Zis party is over, the officer said, placing his hands on his hips. Several officers streamed in behind him and dispersed throughout the room.

Amy was in a state of shock atop the stairs, she stumbled a few steps down, and her glass of champagne tipped sideways. A stream of golden liquid poured onto the top of the mean officers head.

Uh oh, Heather whispered.

The man reached up and snatched at his beret, then rung it out furiously with both hands.

Wed better handle this, and fast, Ryan said.

Heather nodded her agreement. They linked arms and walked to the front together, then stopped in front of French Officer Grumpy Pants.

Hello, she said, and nerves tickled her stomach, Im Heather Janke, the bride, and this is Ryan Shepherd, my fianc. How can we help you?

Detective Piti Brodoteau, the angry man replied, with the barest hint of a nod. We are here to investigate a murder. Nobody moves. Especially not vous. Urk, you, Madame.

Questions filtered through Heathers mind.

Who was murdered? Ryan asked.

a me gonfle, Brodoteau sighed his reply.

Pardon? Im sorry, I dont speak French. Ryans jaw clenched as it did whenever he found someone totally insufferable.

He said were annoying him, Heather said. She had a passing knowledge of the language, an infatuation thatd been born young.

Indeed, zis is annoying. Very much so. The woman who has died is Jane Duvall.

No, Heather whispered.

Oui, Brodoteau replied. And she dies, right after eating one of your horrible leetle donuts.

Thats impossible. Angelica hasnt brought the donuts out of the kitchen yet. Heathers insides had turned to slush. Her engagement party was ruined, and she was a suspect?

Oui, it was in ze kitchen where she was dispatched upon. We ask that you take seats and keep down your noise during our investigation. It was clear from Brodoteaus moist forehead the sweat and champagne mixed and his heavy frown, that he had no intention of asking. Rather, hed be commanding.

Very well, Heather said. But please make this swift. Weve got guests.

One less than theyd had half an hour ago.

Chapter 2

Heather sat in the white wrought iron chair, in the gardens of the Saint James Hotel. It was past 9pm, but none of the guests could sleep, and no small wonder. The news of the murder of Jane Duvall had spread through the hotel like donuts at a cop convention.

Ryan had gone to bed early, but Amy and Angelica had stayed up with her to talk about it.

Are you okay? Heather asked, leaning forward in her chair and examining her longtime assistant by the glow of quaint lanterns along the pathway nearby.

I dont know, Angelica replied, and rubbed her eyes. It all happened so quickly. I was in the kitchen and ready to take out the donuts, when Jane came in and asked to taste.