The Doughnut Whodunit

  It was true. Steve and Henry had carefully wrapped the tray of remaining Mashers the night before. Now, the tray was there, but it was empty.

  “Oh no!” said Violet. “If someone took The Mashers, maybe they took the secret recipe too.”

  Steve gave a laugh that sounded a little like a bark. “That’s something no one can do, Violet. My recipes are safely locked up—in here.” Steve tapped his head. “They aren’t written down anywhere.”

  “Well,” said Dawn. “We won’t get this place ready for customers by sitting around talking. Steve, why don’t you take the boys into the kitchen? Violet, Jessie, and I can clean up the front.”

  “I have an idea,” said Violet. “We’re going to paint the walls anyway. Why don’t we wait to put the pictures back? At least that will save us some time when we start to paint.”

  “Good idea,” said Dawn. “I’ll get some boxes. You and Jessie can help me stack the pictures and take the boxes into the storeroom. And then you can start planning the redecoration project.”

  Violet and Jessie smiled. “We like decorating, but we don’t have any ideas yet,” said Violet. “Dawn, do you?”

  “The wallpaper will have to go,” said Dawn. “That’s all I know so far. What if you girls check out the decor in The Donut Dispensary? You might get some ideas there. Hilda is very creative.”

  “Will your friend mind if we check out her shop?” asked Violet.

  Dawn shook her head. “We like sharing our knowledge. It helps us both.” Dawn smiled. “As a matter of fact, Hilda helped me out when we first met. I told her I wanted to learn Spanish. So, she and I bartered. She gave me Spanish lessons, and I gave her business advice to help her get started.”

  “So, that’s what bartering means? You trade help?” asked Violet.

  “People trade help or ideas or things,” said Dawn. “Just not money.”

  “But you didn’t trade your recipes with her, right?” asked Jessie.

  “No, not our recipes,” said Dawn. “Some of those have been in Steve’s family since the 1940s. He wants to keep those private.”

  While the others stayed at Delilah’s to clean up, Jessie and Violet headed to The Donut Dispensary.

  “I just wish bad things hadn’t happened to Delilah’s,” Jessie said.

  “Well, at least we can help out by decorating,” said Violet. “I brought my camera in case we see things we like.”

  Then a worried look crossed Violet’s face. As she walked along, she asked her sister, “If stealing someone’s recipe is bad, isn’t it bad to steal ideas for decorating?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Jessie. “We don’t want to make Delilah’s look exactly like The Donut Dispensary, anyway. We’re going to come up with our own ideas.”

  “Okay,” said Violet slowly. “I know I can get my own ideas for things. But maybe we should buy doughnuts when we get there.”

  “Sure,” said Jessie. “I don’t want to go there and just look either.”

  “Dawn and Hilda are friends,” said Violet. “So, it’s okay to look and take pictures. But I’m curious about these doughnuts!”

  There was no line outside The Donut Dispensary that day, but inside it was busy. While Jessie and Violet waited in line to order, Jessie wrote in her notebook and Violet took photos. It was a very small shop, big enough for people to stand in, but not big enough for tables. Everything was colored bright white and emergency orange. There were a few shiny stools with orange seats on them. From the ceiling hung sleek, shiny metal lights. A huge metal sign along one wall spelled out DONUTS. Loud music played through speakers.

  “I feel like I’m in a space ship,” said Violet. “Maybe it’s heading toward the sun.”

  “It’s way bright in here,” said Jessie. “The music makes me feel like dancing.” She closed her eyes and made tiny jumps in place.

  When they reached the counter area, the girls looked at the doughnuts lined up under a glass case. Some of them had funny names, like The Frida Kahlo, The Tsunami, and Custer’s Last Stand. Some were huge, with masses of filling spilling out and things like jelly beans and crumbled bacon on top. Others were plainer looking but had bizarre ingredients like kale, jalapeno peppers, or green tea.

  “I’m going to get one of those twisty ones with the purple designs on it,” said Violet. “The sign says there’s a surprise inside them.”

  “I think I’ll get a Triple Mexican Chocolate Donut,” said Jessie. “Maybe we should get two of each so Henry and Benny can have one also.”

  When it was their turn, a woman with long, black hair pulled back in a braid took their order. She had earrings on her ears, in her nose, and in one eyebrow. A butterfly tattoo sat on her upper arm. She smiled at the girls as she took their money. Her eyes were dark and friendly.

  “I think you’ll love those Twisters,” she said. “They’re our newest addition, and they’re a really big seller!”

  “Excuse me,” said Jessie. “Are you Hilda? I’m Jessie, and this is my sister, Violet. We’re helping Dawn at her shop.”

  The woman’s smile got bigger. “Yes, I’m Hilda,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet friends of Dawn. How is everything at Delilah’s? I’ve been meaning to stop in, but we’ve been very busy here.”

  “There’s been some trouble, actually,” said Jessie.

  “Really?” said Hilda, looking worried. “Can you wait around for just a minute? I want to come out and talk to you.”

  The girls nodded.

  Hilda called to a young man with a ponytail and a beard. She asked him to take over the cash register. Then she came over to the front window, where Jessie and Violet were waiting.

  “What’s happened?” asked Hilda.

  Jessie and Violet explained about the break-in.

  Hilda shook her head. “That’s really a shame,” she said. “I hope Dawn and Steve can reopen right away. I wish I could help somehow. Dawn was such a big help to me when I was getting started.”

  “If you want, we can tell Dawn you’re sorry about the break-in,” said Jessie. Violet nodded.

  “Thanks,” said Hilda. “Tell her I’ll give her a call after we close up tonight.”

  When the girls got back to Delilah’s, they sat down with the doughnuts.

  “What are those funny looking ones?” asked Benny. “They look like number eights with purple spirals of frosting.”

  “I think they’re called Twisters,” said Violet. “I like the shape and the twisty purple things on the icing. I picked out one of those for me and one for you, Benny. I thought you’d like them.”

  “What did you say?” asked Steve. He came over and stared at the doughnuts. “Where did you get these?”

  “We’re sorry,” said Violet. “We had to buy some doughnuts at The Donut Dispensary. We felt bad about going there to just look around.”

  Steve ran his hands through his hair and sat down. “I don’t mind that,” he said. “What bothers me is that doughnut’s name. And how it looks.” He peered at The Twisters.

  “Why does that bother you?” asked Henry.

  “The Twisters look just like a Delilah’s doughnut we sometimes make. It’s called The Twisty.”

  “The sign in the other shop said The Twister has a surprise inside,” said Violet.

  “So does The Twisty,” said Steve.

  Doughnuts for the Troops

  “How strange!” said Dawn, looking down at The Twisters. “We should all take a taste of those. Do you mind sharing?”

  “No,” said Violet.

  “I don’t mind either,” said Benny. “But why should we all taste them?”

  “As a test,” said Steve. He rubbed his chin. “I have an idea,” he told the others. “I’ve got more dough to fry. We need to make doughnuts so we can open the shop…I think I’ll make some Twisties right now. Then we can taste them both at the same time and find out if The Twister and The Twisty use the same recipe.”

  As usual, Steve had made batches of doughnut dough the day
before. He had taken out the dough earlier that morning and continued to let it rise. When it was time, the children helped him cut and shape the twists from loops of dough. Then they watched as Steve fried the twists.

  While the doughnuts were cooling, they all sat down in the front of the shop and had sandwiches brought from home.

  “I still can’t understand how a Twister can be the exact same thing as a Twisty,” said Violet. “Your recipes are secret!”

  Steve shook his head. “I don’t get it either,” he said. “But we’ll soon find out if they taste the same.”

  Benny munched on his sandwich. “How did all those doughnut ideas come from your head?” he asked Steve. “Do you have an extra big brain?”

  Steve smiled. “I don’t think so, Benny,” he said. “I am good at memorizing things, though. Also, I spent a long time working in this shop with my mom and dad. After a while, I knew their recipes by heart.”

  “That’s lucky,” said Benny. “These are the best doughnuts ever.”

  “Did your parents always have a doughnut shop?” asked Henry.

  “That’s a good question, Henry,” said Steve. “The answer is part of a story.” Steve settled back in his chair. “Did you know that doughnuts were served to American soldiers all the way back in the First World War, at the beginning of the twentieth century?”

  The Aldens shook their heads.

  “It was a way to help make the soldiers feel good while they were far away from home.”

  “That’s what the posters are about—the ones showing women giving soldiers doughnuts!” said Violet.

  “Yes, it is,” said Steve. “When World War II came along in the 1940s, my mother, Delilah, was one of the young women who went overseas to hand out doughnuts to the soldiers. That’s when she met my dad, in fact. When the war ended, they came home and got married. They decided to open up a shop that would offer everybody the same kind of comfort and home-like feelings.”

  “So, how did your parents come up with their own recipes?” Jessie asked.

  “They experimented,” said Steve. “My mother liked classic recipes, like the basic cake doughnut. She made simple variations, like adding buttermilk to a recipe instead of plain milk. My dad liked to make bigger—and wackier—changes. For instance, he figured out how to use mashed potatoes to make a potato-based doughnut.”

  “Mashers!” said Benny.

  “Right,” said Steve. “My dad also tried out different shapes for doughnuts, different ingredients for icings and fillings, and wild combinations. Some of his ideas worked, and some didn’t. But he never stopped experimenting.”

  “Well, I’m glad he kept going,” said Jessie. “So… was The Twisty one of your father’s ideas? It doesn’t look like any other doughnut I’ve seen—except The Twister, of course.”

  “You’re right about that,” said Steve. “And I’m glad I kept his recipes locked up.” Steve patted his head. “My dad never wrote them down. He thought someone might take advantage of his hard work.”

  “By stealing, right?” asked Violet.

  Steve nodded. “That’s what makes this copycat doughnut so odd. I’m the only person who knows how to make them.”

  “What about your mother’s recipes?” asked Henry. “Are they secret too?”

  “Not really,” said Steve. “They’re classic, so most people make them pretty much the same way. I prefer making my mom’s recipes. They’re the ones that got this shop started. They’re the most like the ones the soldiers had. I believe there are important reasons to carry on what my parents started. I want to keep Delilah’s traditions going as long as I can.”

  “I feel like I saw a picture of your family somewhere,” said Violet.

  “Yes,” said Steve. “There’s one in the hallway back by the storage room. I think it’s still hanging up.”

  Violet went to the hallway and came back with a small framed black-and-white photo. It showed a family, posing happily in front of Delilah’s. The photo had been clipped from a newspaper.

  “You were really young then,” said Henry. “And so was the store. It doesn’t look like that now.”

  “I was in my twenties,” said Steve. “The store’s been remodeled at least once since then, inside and out.”

  “Who’s that boy?” asked Violet. She pointed to a boy in the photo about her own age.

  “That’s, uh, that’s my brother,” Steve said. He looked down at his hands.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother,” said Violet. “What’s his name? Does he live here in Greenfield?”

  Steve didn’t answer her. “The doughnuts should be cooled off by now,” he said. “We need to put on the icing.” He stood and walked quickly away from the table.

  The Aldens exchanged glances.

  “Am I wrong, or did it seem like Steve didn’t want to talk about his brother?” asked Jessie.

  Henry shrugged. “It did seem that way. But maybe he just needed to get back to the doughnuts.”

  “Listen to this,” said Violet. She slowly read the caption at the bottom of the photo. “‘The Berg family, in front of Greenfield’s favorite hangout, Delilah’s Doughnut Shop. Pictured: Fred and Delilah Berg with their sons, David C. and Steven F.’”

  The Aldens looked at the photo again.

  “So, now we know Steve’s brother is named David,” said Henry. “But that’s all we know about him.”

  “Except that Steve might not want to talk about him,” whispered Jessie.

  When the doughnuts were cooled and Steve had added the “surprise” to each one, the children helped put icing on the batch of Twisties. They carefully added the extra designs with purple icing. Benny brought a fresh Twisty to a table out front.

  “We have tests in school,” he said. “But ours are never this much fun.”

  “It’s a shame,” said Henry. “I think we’ll only get doughnut-tasting tests when we’re on vacation.”

  “Unless we go to doughnut school!” said Benny. “We could experiment, like Steve’s dad!”

  “Right,” said Henry, chuckling.

  “These two doughnuts from the two different shops look almost the same,” said Violet. “Even the twist designs look like copies of each other.”

  Steve had put a fresh Twisty on a plate. The two Twisters were on a separate plate. He cut up The Twister and one of The Twisties into pieces so everyone could have a bite of each doughnut. He kept the other Twister uncut so they could all see what it looked like.

  “Now comes the best part—tasting them!” said Benny.

  Dawn, Steve, and the Aldens each took a piece of both doughnuts. They carefully chewed their pieces.

  “What do you think?” Steve asked.

  They all agreed: the doughnuts were the same, even down to the surprise, a small amount of cinnamon-spiced apricot filling right where the doughnut loops crossed in the middle.

  Dawn looked worried. “I just can’t believe Hilda would try to get customers by using our recipes!” she said. “I always thought our shops would be so different that it wouldn’t matter. But if our menus start to look the same, we could lose customers to the Dispensary.”

  “I still don’t get how anyone could copy your doughnut recipe,” said Jessie. “There are no recipes written down.”

  “What about Nathan?” suggested Henry. “He helped you make doughnuts for a year. Do you think he could have learned all the measurements and directions?”

  Steve shook his head. “He’s the only person I can think of who might know my recipes. But Nathan always had trouble remembering them. And it’s been a while since I’ve made Twisties.”

  “Whoever copied our doughnuts didn’t change their name very much,” said Dawn.

  “Maybe they thought no one would notice,” said Jessie. “But we noticed.”

  Things were becoming more mysterious.

  Where Is the Proof?

  Someone knocked loudly on the shop’s front door.

  Dawn got up. “I thought we still had t
he CLOSED sign up,” she said. But she opened the door to see who was there.

  Charlie, the delivery man, came inside. He had a few boxes on his hand truck.

  “I heard you had some trouble here,” he said quietly. “I came to help.”

  “We don’t need any help,” Steve called out. “We’re doing fine.”

  Charlie looked down. “Okay, I’ll just drop off this delivery then.” He started toward the back room, but as he passed them, he stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Steve.

  “Nothing,” said Charlie, looking around the room. “I just didn’t expect things to be so messed up after the break-in. I’m sorry that it happened.” He headed off toward the back.

  “Time to start frying dough,” said Steve, standing up. “This mystery will have to wait.”

  They heard a loud bang from the back room.

  “Sorry!” called Charlie. He appeared in a moment, holding a large, empty potato sack.

  “I’ll take this to the dumpster for you,” he said. “It was on the floor. My hand truck got tangled up in it and bumped into a shelf.”

  “Thanks, Charlie,” said Dawn. “Sorry it tripped up your hand truck. It shouldn’t have been on the floor.”

  Henry held the door open for Charlie. “I was wondering,” he asked Charlie, “how did you find out about the break-in so fast?”

  Charlie shrugged. “This is a small town, and word travels fast,” he said. “I heard Hilda and a man with a beard talking about it over at The Donut Dispensary. I made my delivery there before I came here.”

  “Well, you can tell everyone that Delilah’s probably opening later today,” Henry said. He watched from the doorway as Charlie put his hand truck in the back of the delivery van. But instead of taking the potato sack to the dumpster, Charlie took it with him when he got into the van.

  Why didn’t Charlie throw out the sack? Henry wondered.

  The weather had turned overcast and chilly by the next morning. Gusts of dark clouds blew across a light-gray sky. The Aldens wore their rain ponchos over their warm jackets, just in case.