Free Deep Fried Homicide (The Donut Shop Mysteries) by Jessica Beck Page A

over having it around.
“Just tell him not to shoot the messenger, then,” George said.  “Was he upset when you told him that we were going to be out here all night?”
“I thought he might be, but to be honest with you, he seemed kind of pleased more than anything.”  I leaned forward and kissed the mayor’s cheek, which got a smile from him.
“What was that for?”
“For caring enough to give up what little sleep you get these days,” I said.
“Like I said, we’re all happy to do it.”
     
When I got back inside the cottage, Jake had shifted around on the couch, sitting up now and resting his slinged arm on a pillow.  “Are you comfortable?” I asked him.
“I suppose so.”  He looked at the arrangement, and then he added a little wistfully, “This is probably as good as it’s going to get for awhile.”
I glanced at the clock.  “Would you like a pill for the pain?  You can have one now, if you’d like.”
“Let’s see how it goes and save it for later,” he said.  “I might need a little help getting to sleep tonight.  Do you know what I’d really like?”
I didn’t wait for an answer; I just leaned in and kissed his cheek, too.  After all, if it was good enough for George, it was certainly good enough for Jake.
“Sure, that’s wonderful and all, but what I was really hoping for was some of your mother’s homemade pot roast.”
I started to throw a pillow at him, but I quickly changed my mind.  If I hit his bandaged arm, I was certain that it could hurt him.  Instead, I shifted at the last second, and still holding onto the pillow, I gave him a gentle thump upside his head.
He laughed, surprised that I’d hit him, even so gently.  “I probably deserved that, but I am fiercely hungry.  Would you like to have some, too?”
“Actually, I’m starving myself, even though I had a snack while you were sleeping,” I admitted.  “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Don’t be gone too long, and I’m not just saying that because I’m hungry.”
Even if that wasn’t exactly true, it was still nice to hear.
     
     

 
Chapter 10
     
Jake had a little trouble cutting the carrots and potatoes with only a fork at first, but I quickly took care of that, portioning out the meal into bite-sized servings that he could handle without any help from me.
He protested after I finished cutting up his meal.  “I feel like such a little kid.”
“I understand your frustration, but it’s just easier this way, don’t you think?”
“I suppose so, but that doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”  He frowned at his plate, and then stabbed a small bite.
“It’s still better than me feeding you, isn’t it?” I asked him.
“Let’s face it.  Neither one of us is cut out for that,” he answered.  “You were right.  At least I can manage this okay.”
He managed just fine with the new arrangement, and I made a mental note to prepare all of his food in more manageable serving sizes before I even brought anything out to him.
 After he was finished, he pushed his plate away on its tray.  “That was incredible, and not just because I’ve been eating hospital food for the last twenty-four hours,” Jake said as he finished every last bite of the pot roast that I’d given him.
“Would you like more?” I asked as I stood.
“I’d better not,” he said as he tried to stretch a little.  We’d decided not to move from the couch, since it had taken Jake so long to get himself comfortable.  I’d grabbed a pair of the old TV trays we kept in the hall closet and served us both right there.
As I grabbed his tray so I could take it into the kitchen, he said, “I can help with that.”
I let go of the tray instantly and sat back down.  “Thanks.  I’d appreciate that.”
I watched him for a full minute as he struggled to pick the tray up, failing miserably the entire time, and doing my best not to laugh.  Jake must have sensed it, though, because when he looked over at me, I couldn’t