To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes) (25 page)

I hugged my arms around my chest. “You’re right. He only looked dead. You should have let me go check on him. What if he needed help?”

“Let me hear your phone messages,” Rex held out his big hand. I called up the voice mail, tapped in my password, and handed the phone to him. His frown grew darker as he listened. “I’m going to have to keep these. They’re evidence.”

“What about Mr. Rivers? If you won’t let me, shouldn’t you at least go and check on him?”

“You recognized the guy in the office?”

“Yes, I think it was Rodney Rivers. He is the lead pyro tech I hired to do the Star-Spangled Fourth fireworks show.”

He shook his head. “Dead or not, I can’t take the chance that the place isn’t rigged to blow. That’s a warehouse full of fireworks. If it explodes, he really will be dead, along with anyone else inside.”

I heard sirens in the distance. The island was anti motor vehicle except for first responders. Then all rules were broken. It only made sense that we had an ambulance and fire truck. There was a limit to charm when people needed help.

“Stay put!” Rex ordered and stepped out to direct the vehicles.

I stuck my tongue out at his back. He whirled around, but I put my hands up and blinked innocently. “I’m staying right here.”

Rex was not much taller than me, but he was a big man with shoulders as wide as a mountain, a thick neck, and a shaved head in the fit manner of an action hero. In the last few months I’d gotten to know him well. He had even asked me out once, but I’d already said yes to my current boyfriend, Trent Jessop. It’s not that Rex wasn’t attractive, but Trent left me feeling like the luckiest girl alive. Meanwhile, Rex was a bit bossy. If you haven’t already noticed.

Thirty minutes later I still didn’t have my phone and had finally given up and sat down on the curb of the parking area. I had watched as Sophie had flown out right after the call and came back. Three guys in thick bomb suits, with helmets in hand, strolled around the corner where the fire truck and ambulance sat. I assumed that was who Sophie had collected in her quick flight.

I was far enough away from the vehicles that I couldn’t hear what Rex said to the men, but their expressions were deadly serious as they put on the helmets and carefully entered the building through the door Rex had pushed me out.

“First time I ever had to escort a bomb squad on the island,” Sophie said as she walked toward me from the far edge of the parking lot. “It must be serious for Rex to call in trolls.”

Some people called anyone from the Lower Peninsula
trolls
because they lived under the Mackinac Bridge. The suspension bridge is the longest in the Western Hemisphere and the fifth-longest bridge in the world. People around Mackinac were proud that it was nearly twice as long as the Golden Gate Bridge, but the claim to fame ended there as it was not nearly as wide.

“Frances told him I had phone messages about trouble at the fireworks warehouse,” I said as she sat down on the curb next to me. “He got all bossy and practically dragged me out of the warehouse.”

“If Rex called the troll bomb squad he had good reason to drag you out,” Sophie said. “I’ve known him for ten years and have never seen him panic.”

“In my defense, I didn’t see anything to worry about until I peeked into the last office.” I hugged my knees to my chest.

“Rumor has it you found yet another dead guy,” Sophie said as she stretched her long legs out in front of her. “Kind of got a knack for that, don’t you?”

“It’s a newfound talent,” I sighed. “I’d much rather be making fudge right now.”

“I heard you hired Sandy as your assistant. That was good. She’s one of the best chocolatiers I’ve ever met—and living on the island, I’ve met more than my fair share.”

I turned my gaze from the goings-on at the warehouse to Sophie. “Sandy is good. She should have her own shop.”

“Well, some of us don’t have family businesses to go into.”

“Ouch.”

She sighed and leaned back on her hands. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.” She straightened. “I’m glad you gave her a chance. No one else would.”

“I needed the help and she’s good—better than me with the chocolate sculpture.” I studied the building. “Do you think the warehouse will really blow up?”

“No, not unless the bomb guys come across something they haven’t seen before.”

I winced. “I hope they don’t blow up. I’ve seen enough death in the last few months.”

“I’m sure it’s just Rex being overly cautious—”

Sudden movement from the emergency guys caught our attention. They were running and hopping in the vehicles and moving them.

“Where are they going?” I stood and drew my eyebrows together in concern.

Sophie stood with me. “This does not look good.” She took my arm and pulled me back to the woods.

Rex sent a quick shout to the last responder and ran at us. “Get back!” He waved his hands and Sophie linked her arm in mine and ran headfirst into the woods.

Panic had my heart racing and my feet pounding over uneven ground. We jumped over fallen logs. Ferns and scrub and wild raspberries ripped at our pants and tore at our shirts. Rex caught up with us and pushed us even faster until we hit the top of a hill and half ran, half slid at least one hundred feet down.

The loudest explosion I’d ever heard erupted from the trees above us. Rex shoved us both into the earth, shielding us with as much of his body as possible as dust and rocks rolled over us. I inhaled dust and dry pine needles and coughed, my eyes watering. Pushing to sit up and get some fresh air, I watched in amazement as fireworks whistled into the air, exploding at low angles; their color and sparkles, lost in the daylight, showered the dry woods.

“Get down!” Rex ordered, dragging me back into the dirt as a second loud explosion rumbled, raining more rocks and dust.

The walkie-talkie on his shoulder squawked. “Rex, what’s going on? Are you all right?” It was Charlene.

“Call the forest rangers,” Rex barked into the communicator. “We’ve got potential wild fire at the airport.”

“Roger,” Charlene said. “The fire department is on it.”

“What about the airport?” Sophie asked. Her blue eyes shone in her dirt-covered face. “What about my plane?”

Another explosion filled the air. We ducked. I covered my head with my hands as rocks and branches rained down. We were lucky the small ridge above us sheltered us from most of the blast.

The scent of smoke and dirt and fireworks filled my senses. Falling ash burned my hand, and I shook it off. Rex moved, and I looked up to see him stomping out sparks as they threatened the dry pine needles.

Sophie and I got up. She tore off her shirt, leaving her white athletic T-shirt on, and used the shirt to beat out small fires. I kicked dirt over the sparks that fell near me. The fireworks continued to scream overhead. Their whistles and winding patterns drove them to various heights through the air, showering the area in ear-shattering explosions and sparkles of red, white, and blue.

My first Star-Spangled Fourth had just become the worst disaster Mackinac Island had ever seen. Considering the War of 1812, that was saying a lot.