"That's not what I'm talking about," he said.

That must have been when he noticed that I was doing everything in my power not to look at Peg.

"Suzanne, no matter how unpleasant this might be for you, I need you to look at the body. More importantly, I need you to identify what's in her hand."

I took a deep breath, then steeled myself for an up-close view of the body.

I had to look twice when I saw what was clutched in her dead hand.

Hearing the trembling in my voice, but not being able to stop it, I said, "It's clearly from my shop. From the look of it, it's lemon-filled."

I saw that Peg was holding a donut with one bite missing that had to have come from Donut Hearts.

And I knew that at that moment, I was in more trouble than I ever had been in my life.

SUZANNE'S GLAZED YEAST DONUTS.

These yeast donuts are delicious, and as a bonus, they're easy to make. Well worth a try in your own kitchen. I like to cut out donut rounds and holes, and sometimes I use my ravioli cutter to make round long johns that are perfect for filling!

INGREDIENTS.

* 3/4 cup scalded milk * 1/2 cup granulated sugar * 1/4 teaspoon salt * 1 packet active dry yeast (1/4 oz) * 1/2 cup warm water * 4-6 cups sifted all-purpose flour * 2 teaspoons nutmeg * 2 teaspoons cinnamon * cup margarine * 2 eggs, beaten * Frying oil, 360 degrees F Glaze Recipe * 2 cups confectioners' sugar * 6 tablespoons milk DIRECTIONS.

Scald the milk, then add the granulated sugar and salt, stirring the mixture until the dry ingredients dissolve. After the mixture cools, in a separate bowl add the cinnamon and nutmeg to the flour, then add two cups of the dry ingredient blend to the liquid and mix.

In a third bowl, dissolve the yeast in warm water, stir it into the milk and flour mixture, then add the butter and eggs. Add the remaining flour 1/2 cup at a time. When the dough is firm, knead it 5 minutes on a floured surface. The amount of flour needed depends on many factors, so keep working it in until you have a firm dough. Place into an oiled bowl and cover for about 30 minutes.

On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to 1/4- to 1/2-inch thickness. Cut it into circles using a donut cutter, then set the rounds aside to rise for another 30 minutes.

Add the donuts to the hot oil a few at a time. Cook on each side until golden brown, then remove to drain on paper towels. Glaze while warm, or just sprinkle with sugar.

To make the glaze, stir together the confectioners' sugar and 6 tablespoons milk until smooth. Dip warm donuts into glaze, and then set them aside to cool.

Yield: 12-18 donuts

CHAPTER 3.

"How can you be so sure it's one of yours?" the chief asked me.

"Believe me, when you've been making donuts as long as I have, you get to the point where you recognize your own work." I took a deep breath, then asked, "Is that what killed her?"

"We're going to have to leave that up to the medical examiner, but until I hear otherwise, that's the assumption I'm going to go on."

"I guess that makes me a suspect," I said.

"I'm not about to say that just yet," he said. "I just wanted to see if it was one of your donuts, or if it was something she bought at the grocery store."

"Now you know," I said. "Here's the thing, though, Chief. What possible reason would I have to kill her?"

"I'm not saying you did it," Chief Martin said, the ragged edge of his voice showing his exasperation with me.

"You're not saying I didn't do it, either."

He just shrugged, which wasn't a response that would have satisfied anyone, least of all me.

As I moved away, I stepped on something that made a crinkling sound. I looked at the bottom of my shoe and saw a cellophane candy wrapper on the ground. I started to pick it up when the chief grabbed my hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked.

"Trying to stop you from contaminating the crime scene," he said. "Is that wrapper yours?"

"No, I don't litter," I said.

He got out an evidence bag and picked up the wrapper with a pair of tweezers.

"Is that important?" I asked him.

"I don't know yet. Right now, I'm still looking for any evidence I can find."

He had work to do, I knew that, but that didn't mean I had stick around any longer than I needed to. Being so close to Peg's dead body was really starting to get to me. "If that's all, can I go?"

"I'd like you to hang around a little, if you don't mind," the chief said.

"Fine, but can I at least go back inside the house?"

He thought about that for a few seconds, then said, "Okay, I don't see what that could hurt. Just don't wander off until I've had a chance to talk to you again."

"I'll be inside," I said as I rushed for the door.

Marge was waiting for me near the door. "What happened? Does he know what killed Peg yet?"

"He can't be sure, but it looks like one of my donuts did it." I couldn't believe how bizarre that sounded coming out of my mouth.

"She was poisoned?" Marge asked in a hushed tone of voice.

"The chief says it's too soon to tell," I said, fighting to hold onto the last shred of credibility that I could. "He won't know that for a while."

"So, what happens in the meantime?"

I said, "I'm supposed to wait here for him. You don't have to keep me company, though. I don't mind being by myself."

"Nonsense, there's nowhere else I need to be," she said, "Especially with the exhibition canceled."

"I'm so sorry about that."

"It's not your fault," Marge said softly.

"I didn't kill her," I said with a little more force than I probably should have used with her.

"I'm sorry, Suzanne. I didn't mean to imply that I thought you did."

I looked at her and saw that she was nearing tears. It was the worst thing that could happen to her much-anticipated coming-out party. "Marge, it's going to be all right."

"I wish I could believe you," she said.

I was thankful to have her there with me. If I was being honest with myself, I'd take any company at the moment over being alone.

After twenty minutes, there was no one left in the kitchen but me, Marge, and an April Springs police officer. He was a relatively new hire, and we hadn't gotten the chance to get to know each other yet. It wasn't the best circumstances for developing a bond today, either.

The chief finally came back in, and honestly looked surprised to find Marge sitting with me on the sofa.

"You can go somewhere else in the house, if you'd like," he said.

"If you don't mind, I'll stay here with Suzanne."

The chief shook his head. "There's no need. She's getting ready to leave."

That surprised me. "Where am I going?" I had visions of being led from the house in handcuffs, something that made me want to throw up.

He frowned slightly. "I don't care, but there's no need for you to hang around here. I'm done with you."

"For good?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I wouldn't say that, but I would say for now."

"Okay, I can live with that," I said.

I turned to Marge. "You don't have to stay here, either. Why don't you come to the donut shop with me? I'll treat you to cup of coffee and a bear claw."

Chief Martin interrupted. "Actually, that's the one place you can't go right now, Suzanne." He glanced at his watch, then said, "Give my men an hour, and then you can go back to your shop."

I hadn't been expecting that. "What? They're searching my business? I thought you needed a warrant for that."

"We do, and that donut was all it took to get one. Funny, I thought you'd welcome a search of your business. How else can we clear your name from our list of suspects?"

"You didn't have to get a warrant. I would have gladly given you my permission to search my shop."

"It's neater this way," he said.

I started for the door, but then I realized that Marge wasn't behind me. "Aren't you coming? I'm sure we can find a cup of coffee somewhere."

She shook her head. "I think I'll stay here, if you don't mind," she said.

I wasn't about to argue with her. I just wanted to get out of there. I walked out to my Jeep, got in, started it, then sat there wondering where I should go. I wasn't about to head home, for fear of the grilling I would get from my mother, and I'd been ordered not to go back to Donut Hearts. Grace was out of town on her business trip for a few days, so I couldn't call her.

I noticed the new policeman watching me, so I put the Jeep in gear and drove off. I might not be able to go back to the donut shop, but I could do the next best thing. I was going to the Boxcar grill to get some coffee, and keep an eye on what was going on in my shop from across the tracks.

The owner, Trish Granger, frowned when I walked into the Boxcar, an old train car that she had converted into a diner. One long wall offered booths, while the other sported a long counter for diners to sit while they ate. An attached structure housed the kitchen, so stepping into the train car was a little like stepping back in time. Trish was in her early thirties, neat and trim, with her blonde hair in a constant ponytail.

"You're having a hard day, aren't you?" she asked.

There were few customers in the diner at 10:30 in the morning.

It was a slow time for me normally at the donut shop as well. "Not as tough as Peg Masterson is having," I said as I slid onto a stool near her. "How'd you find out what happened so quickly?"

"Emma came over here when she couldn't get hold of you. She was pretty upset when the police shut the place down."

I'd wondered why she hadn't warned me about what was happening at my shop. "Why didn't she call me?"

Trish shrugged. "You tell me. She said her calls to you went straight to your voice mail. Is your phone on?"

I felt like such an idiot as I dove into my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I'd turned it off so it wouldn't interfere with my demonstration, and I'd forgotten to turn it back on in all the turmoil that had followed.

"Hang on a second," I said as I saw that I had two dozen voice mail messages since last night. That would take too long, so I punched in Emma's number, and she picked up before it had time to finish the first ring.

"Suzanne, are you all right?" she asked the second she answered. Emma had explained that she had a song for each of her callers to identify them with when they called. My song was "Ain't No Sunshine," because we worked most of our hours in the middle of the night.

"I'm fine. How are you doing?"

She started crying as she spoke, and I knew she was really upset. In the years Emma and I had worked together, I couldn't recall a time that I'd ever seen her cry. "I'm so sorry. They shut me down."

"It's okay," I said. "The chief told me what they were doing. I'm just upset with myself that I didn't call you to warn you about it."

"It's not your fault," she said as she fought her tears. "Suzanne, what are they looking for?"

"My guess is poison," I said softly, but evidently not quietly enough, because Trish's eyebrows shot upward when I said it.

Emma said, "Oh, no. Do they think you killed that dreadful woman?" She sniffled again, then added, "I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Forget I said that."

"It's understandable, given the circumstances. I'm not sure what Chief Martin thinks, but I've got a hunch that if he has a list right now, I'm bound to be somewhere near the top."

"That's just awful," Emma said.

"Don't worry," I said, trying to keep my voice calmer than I felt. "He won't find anything there, and then he'll move to somebody else." If only I believed that. There were nooks and corners of Donut Hearts that I hadn't cleaned in years. Was it possible there was a box somewhere in my storage area that contained poison? If so, had someone come into my place of business to steal it before they killed Peg, or could they have hidden it after they'd dusted one of my donuts? My security system was pretty lax, and it wouldn't have been that difficult to plant something there, I was unhappy to admit.

"What are we going to do if he keeps focusing on you?" she asked.

"We can't do anything about that now. Emma, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it, okay?"

Her voice lightened a little as she said, "I've got to say that you're taking this awfully well."

"I can either laugh or cry, and I hate to ruin my makeup, since I don't wear it very often and it took me forever to get just right." It was true. I'd pulled out all the stops for my demonstration, even going so far as getting a manicure and breaking out some of the makeup my mother inundated me with every birthday, Christmas, and any other holiday she could use as an excuse to improve my personal appearance. It wouldn't surprise me to find a wrapped present on my bed on Arbor Day, the way she was going. I knew my mother's intentions were good, but that didn't mean I was willing to use the products she gave me. I was a lot more comfortable with a little bit of blush, some mascara, and a touch of lipstick than the layers I'd applied that morning.