Boston Scream Murder. Ginger Bolton
turned one hand into a fake revolver, pointed it at Rich, and stated, “You’re going to be sorry for stealing Terri. And she’s going to be sorry she ever snuck around behind my back and made a fool of me.” He marched to the door. Chains on the backs of his scuffed black boots clanked. He slapped the door open with one hand against the glass and stomped outside.
Shoulders shaking, Terri ran toward the ladies’ room.
The other customers in Deputy Donut had been quietly observing the drama. Now they chattered, leaning toward other tables to talk to people whether they knew them or not. Wherever Derek had gone, his ears must have been burning. Cheryl caught my eye, gave her head a quick shake, and mouthed, “Wow.”
I retrieved the two mugs, went to Rich’s table, and poured coffee for him and his date.
Rich’s face was almost purple, and a pulse beat in his neck. He handed me an envelope and spoke quietly but jerkily, as if his anger was affecting his breathing. “The directions to my cottage and the key to the back door are in the envelope. The renovations are a surprise for Terri. I have a date with her tonight, so I can’t meet you at my cottage. Is your talented assistant coming with you, Nina Lapeer?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent! I called one of my former banking clients and told him about her. He has important contacts in the art world, and he trusts my good taste. He’s interested in seeing Nina Lapeer’s work. What do you think of that?”
I gave him a genuine smile. “I like it. Thank you.”
“Hey, I do what I can to help others, especially up-and-comers. That painting of hers that you’re displaying—is it for sale?”
“It is.”
“I’m going to think about where I could put it. It’s too big for any wall in my cottage, but maybe it would fit in my house. What do you think about that idea?”
“It’s great. You can contact The Craft Croft to make the arrangements.”
“Will do. It should be a good investment. That’s the name of my game—quality investments. I’ve done very well with them, so when it comes to renovating my cottage, money’s no object. You and Nina can suggest whatever luxuries you think renters and Terri and I might like, especially in the kitchen. And Nina should keep in mind that I could be in the market for a smaller painting, maybe to go on the wall above the fireplace.”
“I’ll tell her.” I would have to thank Cheryl for causing Rich to visit Deputy Donut.
“I’ll have a look at The Craft Croft to see if I want to buy any of her other work. Meanwhile, you’re bringing donuts to my party tomorrow at eleven fifty-five, aren’t you?”
I tucked the envelope into one of my apron’s wide front pockets. “Yes.”
“You can return the key to me at the party. Tonight, while you’re figuring out what I should have my contractors do, take a platter out of one of the upper kitchen cupboards near the sink. It’s a big platter, so it’s probably near the bottom of the stack. Be careful. It’s fragile, but it’s decorated with sailboats and will be perfect for you to arrange your donuts on. Now, what do you think of that? Perfection!”
I wasn’t sure what I thought of a version of perfection that involved platters at the bottom of undoubtedly teetery stacks of breakable dishes, but I answered, “It sounds good.”
“After the party, you and Nina and I can meet at the cottage and discuss your ideas, and if she has any suitable paintings, she should bring them. Tomorrow night at seven? My party will be over by then.” He quoted what he would pay us. “Plus, I might buy a painting. Or several.”
I decided that I didn’t mind spending the next two evenings playing with decorating and renovating ideas. It should be fun, and Nina could use the publicity. If what Rich had said about telling a former client about her work was true, he’d already been promoting her. I gave him a big smile.
Terri came toward us. She frowned. Her redone makeup did not conceal her red eyes and puffy eyelids.
Rich patted my arm. “Mum’s the word,” he whispered.
I started toward Cheryl and Steve’s table.
Rich pulled out Terri’s chair. She didn’t sit down. “What were you two talking about?” Her voice was shrill.
Rich answered quickly and loudly, “Tomorrow’s party. But don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”
“Let’s leave, Richie. I don’t feel safe here. He might come back.”
“Rich,” he corrected her.
“Rich.”
I asked Cheryl and Steve if I could bring them anything else. They didn’t have time to answer. Instead of escorting Terri outside, Rich brought her to Cheryl and Steve’s table. “Cheryl, meet Terri. Terri, meet Cheryl.” He looked pointedly at Steve. “And you are?”
“Steve Quail.”
“Well, Steve Quail, congratulations on dating such a sweet little lady. And Cheryl, I hope there are no hard feelings. Since the time two weeks ago that you and I arranged our date for this morning, I reconnected with Terri. I thought I’d lost her years ago. I didn’t want to disappoint you, Cheryl, by breaking my date with you, so I came here to meet you this morning, anyway. Isn’t it great how things turn out?” Cheryl opened her mouth, but before she said anything, Rich announced in hearty and patronizing tones, “You’ve already found someone else.”
Both Cheryl and Steve blushed. Cheryl regained her composure first. “It’s okay, Rich.”
Rich squinted at Steve. “Have we met before? I was a bank manager, with dozens of people coming into my corner office every day.”
Steve looked as uncomfortable as I might be if someone as boomingly annoying as Rich publicly claimed to have a connection with me. But then, Steve’s blush at Rich’s assumption that he and Cheryl were already a couple hadn’t yet subsided. “I don’t think so,” Steve said.
“Tell you what,” Rich burst out. “We can all be friends. I’m having a birthday party tomorrow out at Lake Fleekom. First house you come to at the lake. Noon, for lunch and the afternoon. Why don’t you two join us? No presents, only good wishes.”
Terri nodded. “Yes.” She didn’t exactly sound sincere.
Cheryl glanced at Steve as if for confirmation, then said quietly, “Thank you, Rich. That would be nice.”
Terri reminded Rich, “We were leaving.”
He escorted her out. She had not touched her coffee or her lavishly frosted Boston cream donut.
Chapter 4
Terri wasn’t the only one who didn’t finish a donut. Steve ate his jack-o’-lantern donut, but after he and Cheryl left, I discovered that the two pieces of candy corn that Nina had used as eyes on his jack-o’-lantern donut were underneath his plate’s rim.
We closed for the afternoon at four thirty as usual and made the yeast dough we would need the next morning, including enough for Rich’s Boston cream donuts. I told Nina and Tom that Rich had said he’d talked to a former client who had contacts in the art world.
Nina glanced at me and away again. “Sweet,” she said softly.
Tom asked, “Did Royalson give you a name?”
“No, why? Did you ever arrest any Fallingbrook art connoisseurs?”
Tom studied the ceiling as if Fallingbrook had large numbers of criminal art connoisseurs and their names were written up there. “I can’t think of any at the moment.”
Nina wasn’t afraid to tease him back. “Don’t worry. I won’t spend the millions I expect from my paintings like, oh, about