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he was about to tell her the news. Even as I was opening my door, I heard him say, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Peter Morgan was murdered last night near the Boxcar Grill.”
    The look of shock on her face broke my heart. “He’s dead? No. No. I don’t believe you. That can’t be.”
    “I know that it’s a shock for you, but it’s true.”
    “When did it happen?” I heard her ask as she began to cry. I hurried toward my best friend to offer any comfort that I could.
    “Between ten last night and five this morning,” the chief said.
    “But I already told you. He left here at eleven, and besides a slap in the face, he was fine, if you don’t count being drunk as something wrong with you.”
    The chief shrugged. “I have to ask these questions, Grace, but I’ll do so as quickly as I can. Let me see your hands,” he prompted, and Grace presented them just as I arrived.
    I looked down at Grace’s hands.
    To my unending relief, there wasn’t a speck of yellow paint on them.
    Evidently, that wasn’t what the chief was looking for. At least not just that.
    “What happened here?” he asked as he pointed to a scraped area on one of her palms.
    Grace looked at me oddly, but all I could do was shrug. She glanced down at her palm and said, “That? It’s nothing. I got a splinter painting an old bench in my backyard yesterday. Why?”
    “I’m afraid you need to come with me,” the chief said.
    “Why should I do that?” she asked, the concern thick in her voice. “What’s this got to do with anything?”
    “Whoever killed Peter Morgan used a wooden post on him,” the chief said gravely. “We’re going to the hospital so we can retrieve that splinter, and then we’re going to go to my office and chat a little more.”
    “Suzanne?” she asked. “What’s going on?” She was clearly in a state of shock after hearing the news about her ex-boyfriend.
    “Can’t she at least get dressed first?” I asked.
    “Not until we get that splinter. I’m sorry. You’ll need to make your own way back to the donut shop.”
    “I’ll meet you at the hospital with some clothes,” I volunteered as I ignored the police chief. “Don’t worry, Grace, it’s going to be okay.”
    She nodded slightly, but I could see in her eyes that she didn’t entirely believe me.
    If I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t sure that I believed it, either.

 
    THICK AND RICH OLD-FASHIONED BAKED DONUTS
    As we’ve started eating healthier, we’ve changed some of our old-fashioned fried donut recipes to baked ones. Having a portable donut maker that produces minirounds has been perfect, but these donuts are nearly as good baked in muffin tins in a conventional oven. This is a delightful take on an old favorite, creating a donut that is dense and rich with subtle overtones.
    INGREDIENTS
    MIXED
    • 1 egg, beaten
    • ½ cup sugar, white granulated
    • ½ cup mashed potatoes
    • ¼ cup whole milk
    • 4 tablespoons butter, melted
    SIFTED
    1 cup flour, unbleached all-purpose
    2 teaspoons baking powder
    ½ teaspoon nutmeg
    ½ teaspoon cinnamon
    ¼ teaspoon salt
    INSTRUCTIONS
    In one bowl, beat the egg thoroughly, then add the milk, sugar, melted butter, and mashed potatoes. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, nutmeg, cinnamon, and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the wet, mixing well until you have a smooth consistency.
    Using a cookie scoop, drop walnut-sized portions of batter into small muffin tins or your donut maker, and bake at 365 degrees F for 9–11 minutes, or until golden brown.
    Yield: 8–12 small donuts.

 
    CHAPTER 4
    As soon as Grace and the chief were gone, I dashed inside my best friend’s house and packed a small bag with a change of clothing and some makeup. There was no reason she couldn’t look presentable, and I knew for a fact that some of Grace’s confidence came from looking and dressing well. If it helped her, why not indulge the act? She could use every bit