To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes) (13 page)

“The parade starts in ten minutes,” Frances announced as I stepped back into the McMurphy for the first time since my ignominious escort out.

“The crowd is huge this year,” I said and hung up my jacket. The June mornings started out chilly but quickly warmed up.

A glance out the front windows showed that people were five or six deep from the front door to the road. In the back people had kids on their shoulders and stood on step stools. So many backs were pressed to the glass that no one could see inside to the racks of fudge offered.

“It’s very rare to have an entire parade of horse-drawn vehicles,” I said. “I remember as a kid being so excited when the festival started. I dreamed of being the Lilac Festival queen or maybe the princess and getting to ride in the white carriage and carry flowers while I waved at the crowd.”

Sandy giggled as she came from behind the counter. “The festival queen is picked by the students in the island’s public schools. Did you go to school here?”

“No, and let me say when I found out you had to be a full-time islander I begged and pleaded with my parents to let me move in with Grammy and Papa. But they said no. As an adult I can understand why. I was only eight years old, after all.”

“I love parades.” Jenn came downstairs. “We have a great view. Shall I take pictures?”

“That’s a great idea,” I said. “We can put them on the McMurphy Web site. That way people can see if they stay with us they can watch the parade from their room windows.”

“Brilliant.” Jenn grinned. “I’m running upstairs for my camera.”

“How are we on fudge?” I asked Sandy. “Sorry I was busy this morning. That was not planned.”

“I kind of got that,” Sandy said. “I think the police officers on either side of you were the biggest tip-off. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” I said. “Rex wanted to question me.”

“Did he?”

“The lawyers wouldn’t let him.”

“Lawyers, as in more than one?” Sandy tilted her head and studied me as if I were a new and interesting bug.

“Lawyers—as in two,” I replied and took a clean chef jacket out of the drawer where I stored jackets and dishtowels. “Frances’s cousin William is my current lawyer and then the show provided a fancy one from Chicago.”

“Wow, you one-two’ed him.” She made fists with her hands and made a knockout punch.

I laughed. “I didn’t need all that. Rex was simply trying to figure out what all is going on. Between the bones and then the chef show incidents, he is running ragged.”

“That female officer looked like she would cuff you in a heartbeat.”

“Right?” My eyes widened. “She doesn’t like me much.”

“Huh, that wasn’t the least bit evident . . .” She shook her head at her own sarcasm.

“I’m going to sugar lilac flowers for this week’s festivities. I meant to do it last night but got carried away.”

“I’ve got some fresh blooms,” Frances said and went out the back and brought in armfuls of the fragrant blossoms.

I mixed up the dried egg white as Sandy put out the blotting paper and the fine berry sugar.

“That’s a lot of blooms,” Sandy said.

Frances smiled. “I just love them.”

The sounds of the parade outside filled the air and mixed with the scent of lilacs. We worked quickly and carefully, picking each petal, dipping it, and then rolling it gently in sugar. Tweezers helped us handle them without crushing.

Finally we finished as the parade ended with the parade marshal, Mrs. Hutchins, in Victorian dress, waving and tossing out individually wrapped pieces of fudge.

As the crowds broke up, we cleared the sugared petals to dry on drying racks and I started up the lilac fudge base. A demonstration now held a fascinated audience. Frances opened the door wide to let the fresh air in and the scent of lilac fudge out.

It was days like this that reminded me why I had worked my whole life to this one end—entertaining fudge making on a brilliant lake island.

“What do you know about Heather Karus?” I asked Frances. It was Saturday morning and I worked on my laptop in the lobby of the McMurphy while Mal slept at my feet. That way I was readily available to help her with the burgeoning Lilac Festival crowds.

“Heather? She’s a pretty girl. I believe she was the Lilac Festival queen her senior year. Why?” Frances asked from her perch behind the reception desk, working on her reservations.

“Something Rex said this morning. Do you know what she did for a living?”

“What do you mean did?”

“I have a feeling Heather may be our bone donor.”

“Oh,” Frances gasped. “Really? Why?”

“Rex asked me if I knew her and since she isn’t a member of the cast or crew of the reality show, I’m guessing she’s our body.”

“Oh, poor thing,” Frances frowned and went back to her computer. “She recently came back to us. I believe she was interviewing for the head pastry chef at the Grander Hotel.”

“Huh, Tammy Gooseworthy has that position,” I said and pursed my lips. “What is with her anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Frances turned to me, took off her reading glasses, and gave me her full attention.

“She was following Peter around, trying to audition for the cast of the show.”

“Ah, well, she has always been supercompetitive,” Frances said. “I remember when the school was having a fund-raiser and a bake sale the year she was a sixth grader. That girl went door-to-door drumming up business and was proud of her trophy for raising the most money.”

“She was like that when she was twelve?”

“And later, she won all the awards in school. The girl was a fiend about beating everyone.” Frances shook her head. “It was an island-wide relief when she went away to college. There’s something not right about her intensity and need to win.”

“You know, she followed me into the casting salon, telling me that she should be on the show and not me or any of the other cast members.”

“Really? What did you say?”

“I sent her to the producer. Let her terrorize him for a while. Besides, that’s not how these shows work.”

“It’s not?” Frances said.

“No, it’s not,” I said, “and that’s all I have to say about it.” I typed Heather’s name into my search engine. Up popped pictures of the Lilac Festival and a lovely girl with light brown hair and blond streaks. She waved her hand at the people watching the parade.

Her bio online included an impressive number of achievements in high school and college. Then another interesting fact came to life. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Did you know that Tammy’s brother Fred was dating Heather?” I asked. “Here’s a picture of them in high school and according to her Facebook page, they were still a couple.”

“Oh, that’s right. I remember asking Steven when those two were going to get married. It was hinted that it would be this time next year.”

“If Heather is missing, why wouldn’t Fred mention that?”

“I think Fred is overseas right now.”

“What? Why?”

“He’s at Le Cordon Bleu doing a year of French cooking.” Frances took off her reading glasses. “Come to think of it, Heather might have gone over there to visit. I can find out if you want.”

“Sure,” I said. “It still doesn’t tell me why Officer Manning was asking me about Heather. I figured he really came to question me because Tammy raised a ruckus about my being in the reality show.” I shrugged. “Maybe there’s a connection there somewhere.”

“Speaking of the show, aren’t you supposed to be shooting tonight?”

“They released everyone to go off island to shoot footage of their home and family. Since I live here,they can film me anytime,” I said absently.

“Better let Mr. Devaney know in advance. He doesn’t like surprises.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “Let him know that they’ll be popping in unannounced. They want to catch us off guard to get the ‘real’”—I made air quotes—“us. So that should anyone come to see us or stay at the McMurphy they can see the piece and say, yes it’s really like that.”

Frances laughed. “Oh, dear.”

“Have you heard anything from Peter or his daughter?” I asked.

“No, there are no further updates.”

“I still feel as if I should go visit.”

“They wouldn’t let you past the visitors’ waiting room,” Frances reminded me. “Besides, we need you here for the festival.”

“I can’t make centerpieces and fudge,” Sandy said from the other side of the glass wall. Sandy used the fudge kitchen to do her chocolate sculpture. It was the perfect solution as we closed the fudge shop down by seven
PM
. The lights in the kitchen were bright enough that people could gather at the window and watch her work. “Besides, you know the McMurphy fudge recipe and I don’t.”

“It’s a good thing or you’d beat me at my own talent,” I tossed back.

Sandy shook her head at my silliness. My thoughts went to our competition and then Tammy Gooseworthy’s competition. “Wait, is Tammy the same Gooseworthy family that owns the Island Mulch and Compost Center?”

“Yes,” said Frances as she looked at her screen through the bottoms of her lenses. “Ed Gooseworthy is her father.”

I didn’t like where my thoughts went next. “You don’t think Tammy would be capable of putting a body in the chipper-shredder. Do you?”

Frances paused and looked at me. “No, I don’t. Do you know how messy that would be? Tammy hated her father’s business because it was smelly. That girl gives neat and OCD the same name. Have you ever seen her with a spot on her?”

“Well, I’ve only seen her twice, but now that you mention it both times she was wrinkle free and sparkling white.”

“It’s an obsession,” Frances said. “There’s no way she would do anything as messy as disposing of a body.”

“Ok,” I said. “Then is there anyone she knows who might do that for her?”

“Now that is a different question,” Frances said and tapped her chin. “Ed employs mainland workers for the season. Then there is his foreman Vincent Gross. Those guys are used to dealing with rotting vegetation on a daily basis. I doubt one body would bother them one way or the other.”

“Well that is certainly suspicious.” I closed up my laptop. “But there is no real motive for them to kill anyone and an act so terrible must be motivated by terrible emotions.”

“Unless it was an accident,” Frances said.

“How do you accidently kill someone and throw their body in a chipper-shredder?”

“That’s a good point,” Frances said. “This is all speculation. For all you know Heather is in Paris with Fred.”

“True.” I pouted. “Come on, Mal, let’s go out for your night walk.”

Mal popped up and stretched, then wagged her little tail. When I pulled her leash off the hall tree, she started to do twirls.

“You like to go out, don’t you?” I said as I put her halter on and then attached the leash. A quick look at the time told me it was nine
PM
. I had to be honest—I didn’t like it when Officer Lasko escorted me through the streets like a common criminal. I needed to do something about that.

I opened the back door and let Mal pull me across the alley to the small patch of grass. The night was cool and clear. The stars were particularly clear.

“Will you call in your lawyers if I say hello?”

“Oh, hi, Rex,” I said. “Are you lurking here to talk to me?”

“Not lurking, taking a shortcut to my place.” He stepped up to me. “It’s a shame you had your lawyers stop our discussion. That’s all it was, you know, a discussion.”

“I know that, but they don’t and they are being paid to be suspicious.” Mal finished her squat and came over to bounce up for Rex to pat her on the head.

“Hello there, girl,” he said and stroked her under the chin. “Did you check out Heather?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked you about Heather to see what you could discover about her.”

“Ah, sneaky.” I turned down the alley away from the McMurphy and the police station to the quieter side of the island. “In fact, I did. You’re not thinking she’s our bony victim, are you?”

“We got a partial jawbone with some identifying dental work. We should know the person’s ID soon.”

“And are you sure it’s only one person?”

“We’re ruling out multiple bodies at this time.” Rex shook his head. “It’s not likely more than one body went through the mulcher. Hiding more than one body is extremely difficult.”

“That makes sense.” I took a deep breath of soft summer air. “Heather is dating Tammy Gooseworthy’s brother Fred. Right? Frances thinks she might have gone to Paris to visit him.”

“When I get the ID on the jawbone I’ll check out that connection.”

“So you are pretty sure it’s Heather. Why?”

“The rumors don’t add up.”

“You don’t believe she ran off to Paris to see Fred?” I asked.

“It’s not what I believe,” he said, his expression grim. “I called Paris. Fred hasn’t seen her. As much as I don’t want it to be Heather, she appears to be a missing person, which makes her my number one suspected victim.”

“Let’s hope she calls home soon,” I said.

“Have you heard the news?” Jenn’s voice came through my cell phone early Sunday morning.

“What news?” I had hit speaker when it rang so that I could continue experimenting with my second lilac fudge—this one dark chocolate cream. The base boiled in my copper pot.

“They identified the bones from the mulch.”

“It’s Heather Karus—” we said at the same time.

“When did you hear the news?” Jenn pouted. “I thought I had an exclusive because I was in the police station when the call came from the lab.”

“Oh, right, you and Shane—How is that going?” I asked. In my mind it was a bit of a mismatched pair.

“Oh, it’s going well,” Jenn said. “We may be passing the ‘just dating’ stage and into the ‘sort of a thing’ stage.”

I laughed. “Soon to be ‘a thing.’”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

“I didn’t hear the announcement about Heather. Rex had his suspicions and asked me if I knew her. Thankfully nothing ties her to me. So at least on that issue I’m not a suspect. Although if Officer Lasko had her way she’d figure out how it was my fault.”

“How’s your friend Peter?”

“I haven’t heard,” I said and took a small glass bowl with ice water in it and spooned out the boiling base to see if it created a soft ball in the water. “His daughter, Constance, promised she’d call me the minute he wakes up.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know. Unfortunately I am linked to Cathy and Peter. The producers are very close to giving up on the show altogether. If Peter doesn’t wake up in the next two days they’ll either get a substitute or pack it in.”

“My guess is they’ll bring in a substitute host. Will Peter be angry to wake up to being replaced?”

“I don’t know,” I said and dumped the water. The base had to boil a little longer before it would set up properly. “Maybe,” I said. “Frankly, I was surprised to see him linked to this kind of show. It doesn’t seem his thing.”

“Maybe the school put him up to it. It’s terrific publicity.”

“Yes, that’s what they keep telling me,” I said and put new ice water in the glass bowl. “How’s the first tea planning coming? It’s this afternoon, right? If this fudge comes out I’ll debut it.”

“Yes, everything is ready,” Jenn said. “We will have five tables of six. I’ve got lilac-colored linens for the tables and delicate white chairs on rent. Did you see the so-called simple chocolate centerpieces that Sandy did?”

“I did,” I said. “She’s an artist.”

The first set of centerpieces was made of delicate boughs of chocolate lilacs surrounded with white chocolate leaves. Sandy had built molds of the tiny trumpets with delicate petaled tops as well as molds of the branches. She’d made the chocolate, poured it in the molds, carefully separated each petal, and placed it on the branch connecting them with tiny drops of liquid chocolate.

The centerpieces rested inside clear plastic boxes in the large candy freezer downstairs.

“I’ve created place cards and got the ‘All Things Print’ shop off Market Street to donate the printing. These are hand-printed with an old press on handmade paper. The name tags match the place cards and the invitations. It’s enough to make a Victorian lady of the finest breeding sigh in satisfaction,” Jenn said.

“It’s times like this that I’m sad that the McMurphy doesn’t have a stretch of lawn like the Grand or the Island House. We could totally create an outdoor afternoon tea.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Jenn said. “I’ll work on that for next year. Ok, I’ve got to go—my sexy scientist is ready to go.”

“See you in a couple hours,” I said and hung up. I tested the fudge base again and was happy with the soft ball in the ice water. It was an old-fashioned way of doing things. Now they had digital thermometers that read out the stage the boiling fudge was in. Somehow there was something more satisfying in trusting my own skill.

When I finished the fudge, I let it cool, then folded in bits of white chocolate infused with lilac. In the end I was satisfied with the recipe. So I cut it into single pieces, placed them in delicate paper cups, garnished them with sugared lilac, and took them downstairs.

The tea went off without a hitch. We had a three-piece orchestra in the back corner where the coffee bar usually stood. Jenn finished the afternoon by asking guests to write their get-well thoughts for the children on handmade paper using a quill and inkwell. We were careful to use ink blotters and offered Lava soap to scrub away any ink residue.

As I thanked the ladies for coming and reminded them that the proceeds were going to the children’s clinic, Liz walked into the hotel.

“You might want to keep some of those proceeds for your lawyer.”

“Why?” I asked. “I never met Heather.”

“The poison that killed Cathy was found in the fudge you made.”

I froze. “What? How can they say that? If my fudge was filled with poison then all of the judges would be dead. I watched them all taste the fudge. We have footage.”

“The contents of her stomach don’t lie. The last thing she ate was your fudge. There is corroborating evidence in the residue of the gingham fabric it was carried in.” Liz pulled out a pocket recorder. “What are your thoughts on this new discovery?”

“My thoughts?” I swallowed hard, my brain searching for reason. “One: I didn’t poison the fudge. Two: I didn’t have a reason to kill Cathy. And three: Don’t you think you ought to be looking for whoever put Peter Thomas in a coma?”

“Is it true you don’t have an alibi for the night Peter Thomas was bludgeoned?”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” I shook my head. “I was put in a conference room by Police Officer Rex Manning.”

“But you didn’t stay there. You went home at some unknown time.”

“I didn’t stay there because Officer Manning never came back. I have a witness for what time I returned.” I waved my hand to Frances. “Frances was here when I returned.”

“According to an eyewitness, Chef Thomas humiliated you on camera.”

“I was late and Chef Thomas doesn’t excuse lateness. It doesn’t mean I hurt him.”

“Cathy and Erin’s team beat you out of first place that night. How competitive are you?”

“Not that competitive,” I said. “Come on, Liz this is nuts.”

“If so then why have the police issued a warrant for your arrest?”

“What? No—They have no proof. They couldn’t have. Because I didn’t do it.”

“Better call your lawyers,” Liz said and turned off her recorder. “Because Officer Lasko is going to be here in a few minutes with her handcuffs.”

“What’s going on?” Jenn said as she stopped by us. “Liz, you missed a great afternoon tea. I’m thinking the second tea set up for next week is going to draw an even bigger crowd. Should I tell them to come dressed in Victorian garb? That might be a fun twist.”

“Jenn, call my lawyer,” I said as I moved to the back door.

“Why?”

“Liz, tell her why,” I said and stuffed my arms through my Windbreaker. It was overcast and the wind off the lake was cool. Mal followed me out, poking me on the leg the entire time. “No, Mal,” I said frustrated. “Stay!”

“Where are you going?” Jenn asked.

“To see Rex before Lasko gets here with her handcuffs.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Jenn said. She picked up Mal, and they both watched me trudge out into the alley and down to the administration building.

If they did have a warrant for my arrest, I wanted to turn myself in. The last thing I needed was to be dragged through the street in handcuffs. No matter how much Lasko wanted to do it. What did I ever do to that girl? I didn’t have a clue.

I walked straight to Rex’s office. “What is this ridiculous rumor that there’s a warrant out for my arrest?”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I have my sources,” I said and sat down in the left chair of two that faced his desk. His office was cramped by the big desk he worked at. Funny how he could look like an action figure even when doing paperwork behind a desk in a tiny office.

“Darn it, I told Lasko to let me bring you in.” Rex slapped down the pen he had in his hand. “Did she make a scene?”

I held up my wrists. “I got here before she could. Now please tell me what is going on? Because I know I didn’t poison Cathy Unger or put Peter into a coma.”

Rex got up and closed his office door. “What about your lawyers?”

“I’m not paying them. So let’s figure this out so that we can both go home happy.”

“You were the last one to see Cathy,” Rex said. “We have a time-stamped piece of video showing that you both went in to the bathroom but only you came out.”

“Nice try but that is not motive or means of murder.” I crossed my arms.

“Cathy Unger was poisoned by a piece of your fudge. Fudge that we have film evidence of you making.”

“If I had poisoned the fudge then every one of those judges would be dead. They tasted the fudge I cooked. I have no idea what fudge Cathy tasted or even why she tasted it. When I left her she was talking about my character on the show possibly going into the finals—”

“Your fingerprints were lifted off the gingham square the fudge was wrapped in.”

“I touched all those squares when I tried to figure out how best to plate my fudge.”

“No one else had reason to kill Cathy. You, on the other hand, stand to win a one-hundred-thousand-dollar competition. It is a competition, right?”

“The winner gets a check, yes. They are also expected to do two tours of promotion to ensure the series gets plenty of press.” I raised my chin and narrowed my eyes. “I don’t have time for promotion tours and I never planned to win. And I certainly don’t need to kill off the competition to win.”

“You didn’t mean to kill Cathy—only make her sick enough to miss the competition.”

“Is that the reasoning you’re going with? Because it’s still wrong. Rex, seriously, I have no need or desire to kill anyone.”I blew out a breath. “I’m going to say this only one more time. I agreed to be part of the cast when my friend and mentor, Chef Thomas, begged me. He told me that one of the cast members bowed out at the last minute. He promised me there would only be a couple nights shooting as I would most likely be voted off early. I agreed to do it as a publicity bit for the fudge shop. I’m thinking about offering fudge for sale online year-round.”

I ran a hand over my face and rubbed my temples. “I don’t care that much about the competition.”

“That’s not what it looks like when we run the footage. They say you can’t hide the truth from the camera.”

“They also say the camera adds ten pounds,” I quipped. “Neither one is anything I want to think about.” I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Really, Rex—I come in as a friend and get questioned like the main suspect. What’s up with that?”

“I have to ask the tough questions.” His blue eyes were clear as day and flat like a cop’s should be. “Now, did Cathy tell you anything that might suggest she was in danger?”

“No.” I shook my head and tried to think about what we had said to each other in the ladies’ room. “We talked about how my being late created a good incident for the writers.”

“And that’s it?”

“We talked about reality shows and how the cast is chosen. I guess the cast members know each other. There’s some kind of circuit where they try out for multiple shows. Cathy said that after a while everyone knows everyone else.”

“So there’s a casting call.”

“Yes, there is,” I said. “I can’t legally tell you any more than that.”

“Do you know if anyone was rejected by the cast or crew? Someone desperate enough to open a spot on the show by literally killing the competition.”

“I wasn’t around for the original casting so I have no clue.”

“Okay, have you seen anything or anyone hanging around? Or doing anything inappropriate?”

“Tammy is the only one hanging around bothering people, but you know that. Everyone else has been great from my stylist to the hair and makeup guys to the handler, director, and producers. Seriously, I have no idea who wanted Cathy dead or why they used my fudge to do it.”

“Maybe someone doesn’t like what was going on with the show and decided to take Cathy—and you—out of the competition.”

“I don’t see why. Seriously, everyone loves each other.”

“Really? Because that is not what I see when I look at the footage.”

“It’s television magic, Rex. The squabbles and such are encouraged when the cameras are rolling to bring drama to the show.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m going to be very specific here, Allie.”

“Okay.”

“All the evidence points to you.” I opened my mouth to protest, and he held up his palm to stop me. “Let me finish.”

I snapped my mouth shut.

“What evidence I have is purely circumstantial and—for the most part—won’t stand up in court. Not if you have a good lawyer, anyway.”

“I have two lawyers.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Then why the big deal about arresting me?”

“I want to ask you for your help.”

“Okay.”

“I believe that whoever killed Cathy is connected with the show. I’m not allowed to learn the ‘trade secrets’ that may or may not have gotten her into trouble. That said, I believe that whoever killed her is trying to frame you. Imagine, if you will, two members of the cast down in one blow. I know if I wanted in on the competition, I’d be the first one in line, hoping that your friend Thomas would bring me in much the same way he brought you in—as a last-minute substitute.”

“That sounds like Tammy,” I said. She’s been the only one making a stink because she isn’t in the competition. As far as official stand-ins, I have no idea if there are any. I’m certain you can ask the director or the producers, they should know what the emergency procedure is for changing the cast.”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Their answer was not helpful. That’s why I’ve brought you in to the station. I want to try to draw the killer out. Get him to flash his motive a little bit. If he believes you were arrested and are the only suspect, he might drop his defenses and show up to audition for the open position.”