Read Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack Online

Authors: Sally Berneathy

Tags: #Mystery: Cozy - Restaurateur - Kansas City

Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack (17 page)

BOOK: Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack
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He didn’t say anything
which was better than a refusal.

“I’ll make your favorite chocolate chip cookies.”

“You’ll make those anyway.”

If bribery d
oesn’t work, try threats. “I’ll hurt your car.” He’d seemed genuinely upset that his formerly pristine car had been damaged.

He laughed. “When I bought this car, it had been totaled. I’ll just get the same guy who fixed it for me the first time to take care of any damage.”

I smacked him on the arm. “You totally lied to Dr. Dan!”

“It was a performance, and apparently a good one if it fooled you after I told you what we were going to do.”

I shrugged. “That’s no great feat. I’m pretty gullible.”

It was getting dark when we pulled into Fred’s driveway, but in the moonlight I could see Trent walking up my sidewalk to my front door.
Mr. Macho Cop would be horrified if anyone ever referred to him as
beautiful
, but that was the first word that came to my mind…one of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen.

I slid out of Fred’s car and raced over to
him, throwing myself into his arms and burying my face against his chest.

He pulled me close and held me tightly. “So you weren’t scared at all when the truck tried to run you down?”

“No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“No.” I leaned back and looked up at him. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

“Good evening, Trent. Glad you could make it.”

I moved out of Trent’s arms and turned to see Fred approaching.

“What’s the game plan for tonight?” Trent asked.

“I’m going to wear a wig and pretend to be Sophie,” I said.

“No, you’re not,” Fred and Trent said in unison. Cute.

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

“Excuse me? Since when did I give either of you my power of attorney to make my decisions?”

Yeah, my comment made no sense, but it
caused both of them to stop and think. It gave me a minute to figure out my tactics.

“So,” I said, “you plan to put on a wig and sit in Sophie’s house waiting for Dr. Dan to show up and turn on the gas?”

Fred nodded. “Yes.”

“He’s not an accomplished criminal, you know. He got into her house last time because she left the door open.”

“I thought of that. I plan to leave the front door unlocked.”

I snorted. “He’s going to hang around waiting for Sophie to run across the street to your house so he can slip inside like last time. There’s only one way to make this look realistic. I pretend to be Sophie, run out of the house and over to your
place to give him a chance to get inside, then you escort me back only this time you don’t leave. Dr. Dan will be inside, and you can wait outside with one of your fancy recording devices until you get enough to convict him, then rush in and save me at the next to last minute.”

Fred and Trent looked at each other. Trent shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes. “I did just fine getting a confession out of David Bennett and you waited patiently outside the whole time.”

“That was different. I didn’t
really know you then. You weren’t…we weren’t…”

“Lindsay, why don’t you go inside and see if Rickie’s totally destroyed your place while I talk to Trent.”

“I’ll go in and pack my overnight bag,” I said.

Sophie opened the door
as soon as I stepped onto the porch. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said, concern etched on her features.

Behind her t
he television was playing, but it wasn’t blaring. My first thought was that Rickie had run away from home.

However, as I moved inside, I saw him sitting quietly on the sofa, drinking a Coke.

Sophie closed the door behind me and went over to sit beside him. “Rickie told me about the trip to see those people and about the scary truck.” She smiled and brushed his hair off his forehead. It sprang right back.

He smiled up at her. “I was scared.”

I sighed. He was practicing his scam artist skills on Sophie, and she was totally falling for it.

“How many Cokes has it taken to make you feel secure?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Three or four.”

I went to the refrigerator and got a
soda while there were still some left then took a seat in my arm chair. “Here’s the game plan,” I said. “Fred antagonized Dr. Dan. Told him you’ve recovered the memory of Carolyn’s death and you’re going in tomorrow to identify him so they can issue a warrant to get his DNA and compare it to the blood Fred found in his floorboards.”

Sophie gasped. “He found blood? Carolyn’s blood?”

“No, he made up that part, a fictitious presentation of data.”

“Oh.”

“So you’re going to spend the night here with Rickie and Trent, and I’m going to your house to pretend to be you, pretend to sleepwalk to Fred’s and leave the house unlocked, then when Dr. Dan comes to kill you, we’ll get his confession. Worst case scenario, we take him down for trying to kill you.”

Sophie sat upright, shaking her head vigorously. “No, I can’t let you do that! That’s dangerous. I’ll do it. Fred will be there.”

“Yes, Fred will be there, so it won’t be dangerous for either of us, but I have skills you don’t.”

She sat on the edge of her seat, waiting to hear about those skills.

“Do you know karate?” I asked her. “Ju-jitsu? Kung-foolery?”

Her eyes widened and she sat back again. “I had no idea you knew all those martial arts.”

“I don’t like to brag.” Of course I knew nothing about karate and ju-jitsu. I never said I did. I simply asked if she did. As for kung-foolery, maybe I did know something about that.

Trent came in the front door.
“All right,” he said, “you get to play the part of Sophie but only if you maintain an open line to me on your cell phone the entire time.”

I was very curious as to what Fred told him that changed his mind. Perhaps it was a clue to Fred’s true identity. But he wasn’t likely to tell me with so many people around. I’d ask him when we were alone and he was vulnerable.

“Where’s Uncle Fred?” Rickie asked.

“He went home to get ready for tonight,” Trent replied.

“And you have to do your part,” I added. “Sophie’s going to spend the night here and you’re going to stay with her and take care of her.”

Trent
looked startled but Rickie looked solemn. “I can do that.”

Sophie smiled and put her arm around his shoulders, pulling his head close to hers. She’d probably get lice.

I ran upstairs to grab a toothbrush and other toiletries. Henry looked up from where he lay warming my bed and gave an inquisitive “meow?”

“Sorry,” I said, “but you’re on your own tonight. Stay in here and you should be safe. Sophie’s coming up later to sleep with you.”

I made him move while I put clean sheets on the bed. He resumed his place immediately and I raced back downstairs. Fred was waiting in the living room. He handed me a brown wig in a style very similar to Sophie’s.

“You can’t wear those clothes,” he said. “Jamison saw you wearing those. Change into a white blouse and khaki shorts so you’ll look like her
. He could already be waiting and watching.”

I took the wig then went
back upstairs to change from my T-shirt and cutoffs to the requested costume. I was glad Sophie wasn’t wearing a ball gown and four-inch heels.

I stood in front of my cheval mirror and donned the brown wig. Hiding all my red curls wasn’t easy, but I’d done it before when I’d worn the blond wig.
I added some makeup and checked myself in the mirror. Not exactly a Sophie clone, but for somebody who hadn’t seen her up close in over twenty years, I could probably pass.

I hurried back to the kitchen where I grabbed a six-pack
of Cokes and the leftover half of a Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake. I set the cake in my iron skillet and took both with me. Sure, I trusted Fred and Trent to take care of me, but it never hurts to have a little backup.

“My gowns are in the second dresser drawer,” Sophie said.

“My night shirts are in my top dresser drawer.” She was probably going to have quite a culture shock.

I gave Trent a kiss and
grabbed my purse from the coffee table. Fred took the Cokes from me, and he and I went out the door.

“Call me as soon as you get there,” Trent called after me.

“Walk slowly,” Fred directed as we crossed the street. “There’s more to this impersonation business than just a wig and khaki shorts.”

I slowed my pace and looked up and down the street for any suspicious activity. It was completely dark. The moon hadn’t risen yet, and the only streetlight
was up the street. Well, there’s one directly in front of my house but somebody shot it out with a BB gun a couple of years ago and nobody’s replaced the bulb yet. If anybody ever does, I’ll shoot it out again. Damn thing shone right in my bedroom window.

When we got to Sophie’s, Fred tucked the Cokes under his arm, took out a key and opened the
front door.

“Did Sophie give you a key?” I asked.

“Yes. Where else would I have got one?”

I shrugged. “I figured you had
some special master key that unlocked all our doors.” I moved inside the showplace house.

He laid a hand on my shoulder, and I turned back to face him. “Call me if anything unexpected happens.”

Good grief. I couldn’t believe he and Trent both thought I was so helpless. “Whatever,” I said, using Rickie’s favorite word.

He left, and I closed and locked the door behind him.

I put the Cokes and cake in the refrigerator, took a firm grip on the iron skillet then made a tour of the house. I needed to know the layout in case a crazed killer chased me around the place.

Sophie’s bedroom was amazing. The ceiling went all the way up to the peak of the roof, and a fan hung down, its blades swirling lazily. The king-sized bed was draped with a down-filled white comforter accented by several brightly colored pillows of various shapes tossed a
bout in a seemingly casual pattern. Her dresser and armoire were antiques, not matching but both made of cherry wood. Her nightstands were round, skirted tables holding lamps with crystal bases which again complemented each other but weren’t exact replicas. Everything in the room was elegant and casual at the same time. Inviting and intimidating. Her interior design business was likely going to be a huge success.

I opened the second dresser drawer and found several silky white night gowns. I chose one at random, slipped out of my shorts and shirt and pulled it over my head. Not a bad fit. A little roomy up top, but that was better than being too tight. I was a couple of inches taller than Sophie, so at least I wouldn’t trip on it as I ran across the street to Fred’s house in our reenactment scene. It actually felt quite nice against my skin. Maybe I
would buy a silk T-shirt to sleep in.

I took my cell phone from my purse, flopped backward onto the bed and hit Trent’s speed dial.

“Hi, baby,” he said.

“I’m lying here all alone in a sumptuous king sized bed, wearing nothing but a silk nightgown. Give you any ideas
, sexy guy?”

“Hang on just a minute. Let me take you off speaker phone.”

My face got hot. I was pretty sure it had turned the rich shade of a Coke can.

“So you’re all settled in?” he asked.

“Yes. You can put me back on speaker phone, then we can both set down our phones and do something else as we wait until midnight when I turn into a sleepwalker.”

I turned down the covers and lay
back on the bed. It was like lying on a cloud.

A floorboard creaked, and I sat bolt upright.

Stupid. It was an old house. Old houses creaked. Mine certainly did, but I was accustomed to the creaks and groans of my house.

I took my cell phone in one hand and the skillet in the other then tiptoed downstairs and checked all the rooms.

Nobody was there. The doors were locked. I was being silly. However, my motto was, better silly than dead.

I went back to bed, took out my e-reader and read for a while. Finally put my book aside and turned off the light.

“Good night,” I said, speaking in the general direction of my cell phone.

“Good night, baby.”

I smiled into the darkness. Nice to hear his voice. Nice to know he was there.

I dozed a little. I was tired. But I just couldn’t fall sound asleep. The gown was comfortable enough even though it kept wrapping around my legs every time I turned over, but that wig was driving me crazy. Every time I moved, I had to adjust it.
If Dr. Dan should arrive unexpectedly, I didn’t want to look like Ronald McDonald in the middle of a costume change.

And I admit
, I was a little nervous. Not scared, just a little nervous at being in a strange house.

I tried to ignore the noises of th
at house, assured myself nobody could get into the house without Fred or Trent seeing him.

Finally about eleven I gave up, got up and went downstairs. Might as well have some chocolate.

The entire first floor glowed faintly with some sort of ambient lighting Sophie had included in her decorating scheme. I like bright light, so I turned on a regular lamp, then immediately turned it off when I realized I was putting myself in the spotlight. No need to make it easy for Dr. Dan, the killing man.

I went into the kitchen and took the mousse
cake out of the refrigerator. Sophie had a beautiful set of knives in a wooden block. I chose the largest chef’s knife, cut myself a generous piece, put it on a dessert plate and took it to the living room.

I took a bite.
It was delicious. Went a long way toward soothing my nerves. I barely jumped when I heard a noise at the back door. Probably a raccoon or a possum.

About the third bite, my phone began playing
Out of a Blue Clear Sky
. The fact Trent was calling meant we’d lost our connection somewhere in the course of the last couple of hours. Blasted cell phone service. Good thing I hadn’t needed him.

I hit the icon to accept the call. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The whole thing’s off.”

“What? No!”

“Sorry I had to hang up on you, but I got a call from the station. Jamison’s in the hospital. Took an overdose. Tried to commit suicide.”

“Well, I guess Fred succeeded in scaring him. I don’t suppose he left a note confessing to everything.”

“No such luck. He went upstairs after dinner and locked himself in his office. He does that a lot, and his wife only became concerned when she got a call from his brother saying Daniel wasn’t answering his cell phone. She found him slumped over his desk and called 911.”

BOOK: Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack
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