To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes) (12 page)

“We need to take apart the pantry and check all the ingredients to ensure the poison didn’t come from something we had on set,” Brian said. He held his hands out and down to make his point. “Deep breath, everyone. Officer Rex Manning requested that they take samples from all the pantry stock and check out the pots and pans.”

“It’s going to ruin our shoot,” the director argued. “We only have thirteen days left to make this series. We can’t stop shooting just because a woman was poisoned.”

“We can shoot without the taste test,” Peter suggested as he wiped the candy residue from his fingers. “Then edit it so it looks as if we tasted it.”

“Good, good, go with that,” the director said and moved the cameras into close-up position.

Peter continued with his critique as if he had really tried the fudges. When he got to me, his eyes narrowed and his voice got low. “Pat-in-pan fudge is not real fudge, is it, Miss McMurphy?”

“As long as it’s labeled pat-in-pan it can be presented as fudge,” I argued. “Besides, the fun thing about making fudge at home is to know how to make it quick and easy.” I crossed my arms and waited to hear what he had to say about that.

“Pat-in-pan is a sucker trick when a chef doesn’t have the time to create real fudge. It is disqualified.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “I accept your opinion as a judge.”

“That said, the chocolate ganache fudge is the perfect blend of cocoa and cream. The combination is superb.”

Okay, so did he like it or hate it?

“You are all dismissed to the waiting room while I mull over my decisions.”

We left the room, filing over to the waiting set.

“I didn’t know you could make fudge with powdered sugar,” the first of the pair of blond women left in the competition said. “I’m Amber. Your fudge looked really easy.”

“It is easy,” I said and shrugged. “My Grammy taught me how to make it when I was in kindergarten. It’s a very good simple fudge to make when you don’t have time to make the real thing.”

“Well, it will be interesting to see what Chef Thomas decides,” said the other blonde. “I’m Erin and I’m hoping my contract is done. It creeps me out to think that Cathy’s dead.” She rubbed her forearms as if to ward off a chill.

“It has to be my time to go,” I said and yawned big. “Working two jobs is killing me.”

“Let’s hope not literally,” Amber said.

The director and camera crew shot footage of us awaiting our fate in the waiting room set. Thirty minutes later we were ushered back into the cook set and took our places on the appropriate
X
s.

“Welcome back, candy makers,” Peter said. “It has been a tough time for everyone since the loss of Cathy. It has been decided that everyone will get a pass this week. Go home and come back fresh tomorrow and we will continue to find out which of you deserves the cut.”

“And done,” the director said. “Thanks everybody. Terrible day. I’m so glad you all are up to the challenge of continuing to shoot the show.”

“Do we have a choice?” I whispered to Erin.

She shrugged. I suppose my question was a moot point.

After dressing in my own clothing and washing the makeup off my face, I grabbed up my duffel and looked at the other two ladies. “Okay, I’m going to be a little superstitious. Last night I walked out alone and left Cathy. I refuse to leave anyone in the bathroom tonight.”

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Amber said and gathered up her stuff. “Come on, then, we’ll leave together.”

“Hey, wait one minute and I’ll come too,” Erin chimed in. “Trust me, I don’t want to be the one left for dead.” She threw her makeup in her duffel, and we all walked out together.

“That’s one less thing to be superstitious about,” I said.

Rex and Peter were waiting in the hallway.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag.

“Allie, Rex has some questions for you,” Peter said, his face solemn.

I drew my eyebrows together. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I’d rather we talked in private,” Rex said in full-on police mode.

“Oh, that can’t be good,” I said and walked to where he pointed.

“There’s a small conference room to the left. I’ll be in in a moment.”

“Sure, what about Amber and Erin?”

“They’re free to go.” He waved them down the hall.

“This is not looking good for me,” I muttered as he ushered me into the conference room.

“Have a seat. Can I get you some water?”

“Sure,” I said. “Wait—is this an interview? Do I need a lawyer?” A pain started to throb in my left temple. It was most likely caused by too much coffee and too little sleep. “I’m sure Frances can get her cousin over here in about a half an hour.”

“No.” Rex shook his head. “There’s just some things I need to clear up.”

“Sure,” I said as he left. “Great.” I sat down and put my duffel on the floor beside me. A glance at my watch told me it was only one
AM
. If this didn’t take long, I might be able to get back to the McMurphy in time to get five solid hours of sleep.

I closed my eyes for a minute to fight the pain. Then I put my head down on the conference table and was out.

I had this weird dream where a giant Saint Bernard was chasing me with a chipper-shredder machine. “No!” I woke up with surprise to realize I was still in the hotel conference room. I wiped the drool off my face and used the sleeve of my sweatshirt to clean up the small puddle of drool on the table.

I stretched and got up. “Hello, Rex, did you forget about me?” Sticking my head out into the hallway, I saw that no one was around. The hall lights were dimmed for nighttime, and the cast and crew had all gone home. “Hello?” No answer.

This was crazy. I grabbed my duffel and walked out. Being nice and answering questions was one thing, hanging around to be interrogated was another. “You can call my lawyer,” I muttered and moved down the hallway.

There was a commotion outside the main lobby. I imagine the guests above that area weren’t too happy. After all, you paid a lot of money to stay on the island. In exchange you expected fresh air and a quiet, good night’s sleep.

I walked around the crowd and headed home. I’d learn soon enough what Rex wanted to tell me. I yawned as I walked down the street to Main and then walked up it to the McMurphy. Right now I needed my bed more than I needed another disaster.

Frances met me at the back door to the McMurphy. “Oh, good, there you are,” she said and opened the door. “Come in. Did anyone see you leave?”

“What? No, I don’t think so. Rex brought me into a conference room and promised to be right back. I fell asleep, and since he didn’t keep his promise, I left.”

“Good. Don’t talk to anyone. My cousin William is on his way over.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They found the skull of the person in the mulch.” Frances walked with me up to the apartment. “That’s probably what Rex originally wanted to talk to you about.”

“Originally?”

“Yeah, unfortunately, they just found Chef Thomas lying in a heap on the ground next to the Grand Hotel. The EMTs are working on him.”

“Oh, my God, not Peter.” I dropped my duffel on the landing. “Is he okay? I need to see him.”

“He’s unconscious but alive.” Frances held me by the arms. “They’re flying him to the hospital in Mackinac City.”

“I want to go with him,” I protested.

“You can’t,” Frances said and took me by the hand and led me upstairs. “You have to stay here and get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

“How can I sleep when Peter is hurt and unconscious?” Panic surrounded me. “What if he doesn’t make it through the night?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Frances said and took my keys from me and unlocked the apartment. “You need an alibi.”

“What? Why?”

“The evidence against you is stacking up.” Frances put my duffel down and then walked me to the bathroom. “Get ready for bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I don’t want to get ready for bed. I want to find out who hurt Peter.”

Mal stepped out of her crate and took one long leisurely stretch before bounding over for her welcome-home pats. I absently picked her up. She licked my face, and I sent her a tired smile.

“Peter is in good hands. You need sleep and an alibi. I’m providing both. Now go.” Frances shooed me toward the master bedroom. “Do you need me to fix you any warm milk?”

“I’d rather you brewed some coffee. What about the other members of the cast and crew?”

“What about them?” Frances put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

“Are they under lock and key as well?”

“They’d better be,” Frances said. “The way people are getting hurt, it’s not safe for any member of the show to be alone. Especially you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you make it a bad habit of being a suspect.”

“Chef Peter Thomas is in critical but stable condition at Bradford Health Systems intensive care,” the radio announced. “All work on the reality show,
Fudge Not, Lest Thee Be Fudged
has been suspended. Cast and crew members have been asked by the local authorities to stay in their rooms until further notice.”

“Well, I guess that means they won’t let me off the island to see Peter.” I said as I came out of the bathroom showered and wearing clean clothes. I had to admit after a few hours of good sleep I wasn’t so grumpy.

Frances looked concerned. “The test results on the reality woman’s death came back. It seems that she did indeed eat poisoned fudge.”

“Oh.” I made a face. “That had to be bad.”

“It’s not so good for you either,” Frances said.

There was a pounding at the apartment door before I could ask why. “I’ll get it.”

I opened it to find two police officers outside. One was Office Lasko. I was not a favorite of hers. “Good morning,” I said as cheerily as possible. “Can I offer you two some coffee?”

“No, thank you,” Officer Polaski said.

“We need you to come down to the station immediately,” Officer Lasko stated with a good amount of glee.

“Okay, why?” I asked.

“I’ve already called my cousin,” Frances said. She stood beside me with her hands on her hips. “Allie, don’t say anything until he gets here.”

“Should we read her her rights?” The younger office asked.

Lasko’s right eye twitched. “Not yet. We’re only asking questions at this time. Allie McMurphy is a person of interest in the ongoing investigation of the poisoning death of Cathy Unger. Miss McMurphy, please come with us.”

“Okay,” I said as Lasko took me by the arm and forcefully showed me the way out. I glanced over my shoulder. “Tell your cousin William to meet me at the station.”

Frances picked up Mal and held her. “Remember, don’t say anything until your lawyer comes. You have rights, don’t let them trample them.”

“Will do,” I said and noticed how the lobby, usually dead this time of day, was suddenly filled with people milling about. One such person was Liz. “Hey, Liz,” I said and waved as the police officers escorted me from the building.

“Allie, wait, what do you know about the attack on Chef Thomas?”

“Can’t talk now.” I pointed out the police. “I’m kind of busy. But I’ll give you an exclusive when I get back.”

Sandy was coming in as I was escorted out. “Cancel today’s fudge demonstrations,” I instructed her. “Today’s specials are posted on the wall.”

“Don’t worry,” Sandy shouted after me. “I’ll make sure you keep running.”

“Don’t forget to work on your centerpieces.”

“Will do,” Sandy said and disappeared into the McMurphy. The streets were far less crowded this time of day as the ferries started running at eight
AM
and the first boats of tourists hadn’t come in yet. Thankfully only those who stayed on the island would watch as Lasko escorted me down the street to the white administration building. I went in happy that my hands weren’t cuffed and that I had put shoes on when I got up this morning.

“I hope you have coffee,” I said and stifled a yawn. “I’m going to need it.”

“You won’t be so nonchalant when we arrest you,” Officer Lasko said with her you-are-the-bad-guy voice.

“What are you arresting me for?”

“We are not arresting you,” Rex said as Lasko escorted me to a tiny conference room. “I need to ask you some important questions about the reality show.”

“She lawyered up,” Lasko said as she put me into a room and closed and locked the door.

Rex came in twenty minutes later with a Styrofoam cup full of black coffee. “Hi, Allie, please have a seat.”

“I need to stand if that’s okay with you. Where’d you go yesterday? And why all the drama?” I waved my hand toward the door.

“Sorry about that.” Rex sat down and pushed the coffee over to my side of the table. “Lasko wants to be in a crime drama.”

I blew out a breath and picked up the coffee. It was black and thick, which was pretty much what I needed right now. “What’s going on, Rex?”

“You know your friend Peter Thomas was attacked last night.”

“Yes, I heard. First you put me in a small conference room at the Grand, and then I fell asleep, and when you didn’t show, I left.”

“Again, my apologies.” Rex ran a hand over his face. “We don’t usually have so much excitement on island. I’ll have another talk with Lasko about communication. When I got delayed she was supposed to let you know you could go home.”

“I don’t think leaving me there was an accident.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” I wrapped my left arm around my waist and clung to the coffee cup. “It’s not important. What is important is that I wanted to be with Peter, but Frances said it would be best if I didn’t go. Why is that, Rex? I consider Peter a good friend. Has anyone contacted his family? His daughter should know. Someone should be there.”

“Calls have been made. I have an officer with him. He won’t be alone when he wakes up.”

“Good.”

“You spoke to Jessop the other day.”

“Yes, I did.” I sipped my coffee. “He wanted to know if I still held a grudge. I told him no. I explained why you all got a warrant to check out Jessop Compost and Mulch.”

“Who else have you spoken to about the bone bits?”

“No one.” I wrinkled my forehead. “Wait—Liz knows, but not because I told her. She was there when we found the first pieces. Remember?”

“I do,” Rex said. “As was Daisy.”

That memory brought a smile to my face. “Do you still have Daisy and Mrs. Finch in lockup? Or did Daisy pass the bone?” I made a face. “I would not want to be the one on duty to check.”

Rex grumbled. “Daisy is in lockup. Mrs. Finch is still protesting.”

“Is all of this connected?” I tilted my head thoughtfully.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me. You seem to be up to your eyeballs in all three investigations.” His pretty blue gaze studied me.

“I don’t know how that happened.” I sat down, nervous for the first time. “Mal found the mulched bones. Then Peter asked me to do this favor for him, and now here I am, exhausted and worried because a woman died and a man I admire is unconscious in the hospital.”

He waited for my thoughts to catch up with me.

“Then there’s my first solo Lilac Festival. Thankfully Jenn, Sandy, and Frances have a handle on the fest.” I grew quiet. “You have questions for me?”

“Did you know Heather Karus?”

“Who?” I scrunched my forehead and shook my head.

“Heather Karus. She’s a local. Her family’s been on the island for almost fifty years. Her dad was a smithy at Jessop Stables. Her mom was a housekeeper. Heather let everyone know she was above her family. She left the island to get her MBA but didn’t like it. Last I heard she went to culinary school and returned when her mom took sick.”

“Oh, no, I never met her. I mostly knew my grandparents’ friends. What does Heather have to do with any of this?”

“What about Cathy Unger? It’s been reported that she, Amber and Erin bested you on tape the night Cathy died. Is that true?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “But that was my fault. I showed up late. They couldn’t let me win.”

“That’s not how it looks on film.”

I blew out a breath and dropped my shoulders. “They edit that stuff for conflict. Forget I said that. I can’t legally tell you anything about the show.”

“That’s pretty much the reaction I got when I interviewed the other cast members.” Rex sat back. “Their lawyer is slick. He thinks he’s dealing with a backwoods police force.”

“He doesn’t know about your time in Detroit?”

Rex shook his head. “Let’s not disabuse him of his opinion,” Rex said. “It works to my advantage to be considered a bumpkin.”

There was a knock on the door. Rex took a deep breath and blew it out. “Speak of the devil.”

The door opened. “Sorry to interrupt,” Officer Lasko said when she opened the door. “I’ve got two lawyers here who claim to be representing Allie McMurphy.”

“Two?” I asked.

“Two.” Lasko opened the door wider, and Frances’s cousin William and a second more well-dressed man tried to beat each other through the door.

The two popped through roughly at the same time. Rex stood. “I’ll let you work this out.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Rex left and closed the door behind him. William was slower and the slicker, well-dressed man grabbed Rex’s chair. “Allie? I’m Mark Abrahms. I’m the attorney the show has on staff. It’s my job to ensure you are fairly represented in any inquiries.”

“Hi, Allie, Frances called me. Since we have a history together I’m certain you want me to be your lawyer in this case.” He shuffled his portly body from one leg to the other and placed his briefcase on the table.

“Gentlemen.” I sat back and studied them both. “Mr. Abrahms, Mr. Wentworth has represented me in the past. I have a history with him and he understands my personal requirements.”

William puffed his chest up. “Get out of the chair, my man. It’s me she wants.”

“That said”—I gave William the staredown—“Mr. Abrahms understands the contract that I signed for the show backward and forward, don’t you, Mr. Abrahms?”

“I wrote it.”

“Then it’s clear I need both of you.” I got up and pushed my chair over to the other side of the table. “Sit down, William. We need to find out what’s going on.”

“I don’t want to take your chair,” he protested.

“It’s fine,” I said and picked up my nearly empty coffee cup. “I don’t want to sit.”

“Let’s begin, shall we?” Mr. Abrahms asked and pulled a notepad out of his briefcase. “What have you told the officer?”

“Even more important, in my opinion,” I said, “What did the officer tell you?”