The Chocolate Moose Motive: A Chocoholic Mystery (25 page)

She brushed her hands together in that traditional gesture that shows a job has been completed. “Come on, everyone. Let’s eat dinner.”

I wouldn’t say we had a festive meal. We were all too aware that Ace had lost not one, but two sons. One of the things he told us was that Hogan had searched Chip’s belongings that day, and he’d found a pair of tennis shoes with a pattern on the sole similar to the one I’d sketched. And in the clothes dryer, he found pants and a shirt in a hunter’s camouflage print. These were just two more links in the chain of evidence against Chip.

But Ace told us he was hiring a lawyer for Chip—“With my legal bills, I’ll barely notice the increase”—and the attorney was confident that Chip, with four witnesses to his admission that he’d killed Buzz, would avoid a trial by accepting some sort of plea bargain. It wasn’t a good solution, for Chip or for Sissy either. But probably it was the one that would avoid further scandal and heartbreak.

“Chip was always troubled,” Ace said. “I sent him to school after his parents split. His mother had a drinking problem, and his father just gave up and deserted the two of them. Chip was too aggressive, and Buzz was too passive, at least to my way of thinking. I thought they might even each other out. I was wrong.”

He turned to Sissy. “Please try to get Buzz’s novel published. I know it’s going to describe a lot of stuff I’d rather people didn’t know about. But it’s Buzz’s take on what happened. It shouldn’t be suppressed.”

Sissy said she now planned to enroll as a business major at Michigan State. “Someone in the English department may be able to help me decide what to do with Buzz’s book,” she said. “I won’t rush into anything.”

Toward the end of the meal, Ace called for attention. “Now,” he said, “we have a serious matter to discuss. It’s about my grandson. He doesn’t have a nickname yet. Every boy in the Smith family has to have a nickname.”

“Why is that?” Joe said.

“Because our name is Smith! A Smith has to have an unusual first name if he’s going to stand out. Now, John is a perfectly fine name, but this boy is obviously going to be an outstanding person. He needs an outstanding name.”

“His middle name,” Sissy said, “is Fox.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Ace said. “I guess we could call him Foxy.”

“Actually,” Sissy said, “Buzz had a nickname for him.”

“What was it?”

“Well, Johnny was born on Friday the thirteenth, you know.”

“Not Jason!” I was appalled. Joe and Sissy laughed, but Ace and Wildflower looked puzzled. Sissy explained to them that Jason was a character in a series of horror movies with
Friday the 13th
in their titles.

“No, not Jason,” she said. “Buzz called him Lucky.”

We all agreed it was a great nickname. “We’ll call him Lucky John until he gets used to it,” Wildflower said. “Then plain old Lucky.”

“It’s the perfect nickname,” I said. “He’s definitely a lucky kid. Of course, I’m not so lucky. If Sissy goes to Michigan State, I have to hire another bookkeeper.”

Chocolate Chat

Our grown son was home for the holidays, and, in an after-dinner discussion, he mentioned that chocolate caused him to get sores on his tongue. Then he reached for a piece of Gran’s Fudge, a particularly creamy and luscious candy we make at Christmas.

“Hey!” Mom cried.

But our son shrugged. “It’s already sore,” he said.

Well, he’s an adult. If he’s willing to suffer so he can eat fudge once a year, that’s his choice.

But many people have problems with chocolate. It can cause heartburn or migraines or worsen arthritis. Some people are out-and-out allergic to it, just as they may be allergic to any substance.

I’m sorry about that.

For everyone else, here’s the recipe:

Gran’s Fudge

Mix sugar and milk. Cook at medium heat, stirring frequently, until the mixture reaches soft-ball stage, about ten minutes. Add marshmallow cream, chocolate chips, margarine, vanilla, salt, and pecans. Mix until smooth. Pour into nine-by-thirteen-inch buttered dish. Let set twenty-four hours.

Note:
Everyone in my family uses a pressure cooker pan to make this. No, we don’t use pressure. We just use the pan because it’s heavy and suitable for extra-hot ingredients that shouldn’t be burned or scorched. I’m lucky enough to have fallen heir to the actual pressure cooker my grandmother used, and I prize it as a special link to my family heritage.