Free Deadly Donuts by Jessica Beck

tonight?”
    “I’d be delighted,” she said.   “Suzanne, you didn’t drag George into this, did you?”
    “No, ma’am, I realize that our mayor has enough on his hands without me adding to his problems.   Jake is taking some vacation time to help us.”
    “Did he have any trouble getting leave on such short notice?”
    “No, as a matter of fact, his boss was all for it,” I said, not really sure if I was stretching the truth or not.
    “Then that’s perfect.   Do you have any preferences about what’s on the menu?”
    “I’m sure that whatever you make will be splendid,” I said, meaning every word of it.   My mother was a fine cook, a savvy businesswoman, and a real pistol if anyone had the nerve to cross her.   Not many did it twice; that was for sure.
    “Give Grace my love.   You two need to be careful, do you hear me?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I said.   “Loud and clear.”
    After I hung up, I told Grace, “Momma sends her love.”
    “Right back at her.   How’s she holding up?”
    “You know my mother nearly as well as I do.   I have a tough time reading her sometimes, but I can tell that she’s pretty upset right now.   Who can blame her?   This is something no one would want dumped in their lap.”
    “Between the three of us, we’ll figure this out,” Grace said reassuringly.
    “Don’t forget that Chief Martin isn’t exactly an innocent bystander in all of this.   He wants this case solved as much as any of us.   It can’t be easy for him having his girlfriend as a prime murder suspect.”
    Grace glanced over at me.   “Suzanne, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re becoming quite a fan of our dear police chief.”
    “He has his good points,” I admitted.   In all honesty, the chief really had started to win me over.   No one that devoted to my mother could be all bad, and I was trying harder and harder to see him for what he was, and accept him.  
    I was willing to admit that some days were better than others, but it was good between us at the moment.

 
    When Grace and I got to the restaurant, we found a sign on the door that said Napoli’s was closed.
    “What’s going on?” Grace asked.   “I thought they were open every lunchtime during the week.”
    “Me, too,” I said as I grabbed my phone and called Angelica, the mother and patron saint of the best Italian restaurant I’d ever enjoyed.
    “Angelica, this is Suzanne Hart.   Are you okay?”
    “I’m fine, Suzanne,” she said rather abruptly.   “Why do you ask?”
    “Grace and I are out in front of the restaurant, and we just saw your sign that you were closed.   I hope nothing’s happened.”
    “I’m sorry to say that it has.   Come around back.   Hurry.”
    “If it’s not a good time, we could always come back later.”   I felt bad asking her for a favor when she was clearly having trouble of her own.
    “There’s no time to talk.   I’ll be waiting.”
    Angelica hung up before I could protest any further.
      “What’s going on?” Grace asked.
    “I don’t have a clue, but we’re about to find out.”   I led my friend around the back of the building.   We had to knock twice on Napoli’s rear entrance before anyone heard us.   Sophia, Angelica’s youngest, finally opened the door, a pained expression on her face.   There was an expanding puddle of water at the base of the door, and I wondered if they’d had a rainstorm here that we’d missed in April Springs.
    “What’s the big mystery, Angelica?” I asked her.
    “We’ve got a leak somewhere inside,” she said as Grace and I walked into the kitchen.
    A leak was the mildest way their problem could be described.   A central pipe must have broken somewhere overhead, flooding the kitchen with at least six inches of water, and the tide was rising even as it came pouring out through the open back door.   There were towels stacked up at the door that led to the main dining area, so I was hoping that the