All Fudged Up (A Candy-Coated Mystery) (2 page)

“Was that a squeak?” the new male said. “Or a laugh?”

“She’s in shock.” I heard Officer Manning reply.

Could a person die of embarrassment? Maybe if I buried my face in the carpet and drew the pale blue blanket over my head, it would all go away.

The two hunkered down beside me. Someone put a hand on my back. It was a comforting gesture. I would have said something nice about it if I weren’t afraid of biting my tongue with my stupid chattering teeth. Tears filled my eyes. I’m sure it was frustration. I mean, I don’t cry easy.

“Miss, can you sit up?” the second voice said gently, causing more tears to track down my cheeks. Shoot. Don’t be nice to me. Don’t you know that nice is the worst thing you can be to a girl on the verge of losing it?

I sat up and wiped the tears off with the sleeve of my chamois work shirt.

The second voice belonged to a guy with deep brown eyes and the high cheekbones of a true local. He wore a blue uniform as well, but this one said “EMT” on it. He was lean with broad shoulders and competent hands. My vision narrowed, and I saw stars.

Mr. EMT had me flat on my back with my feet higher than my head before I knew what was going on. Shoot, he hadn’t even bought me a drink first.

“Thanks,” I muttered through gritted teeth as he adjusted the blanket around me and then pulled out a blood pressure cuff. With silent movement, he pumped up the cuff, released it a little, and pumped it again as he listened. I have no idea what he heard as all I could hear was my heart pounding in my head. He put his fingers on my wrist and checked my pulse. I noted that his name tag said George Marron.

“I’m ”—chatter—“fine ”—chatter—“really.”

“Take a deep breath. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I did what he said and concentrated on his soulful eyes until I could talk. “Not used to finding”—breathe in, breathe out—“a dead person in my closet is all.”

George’s calm gaze watched me. It was kind of embarrassing getting all this attention when there was a dead man down the hall.

“Was I right?” Officer Manning asked as he stepped out of the crime scene.

The EMT nodded.

“Do you want to take her down to the clinic?” Officer Manning tipped his head and studied me as if I were a specimen in a zoo.

“No!” I tried to sit up, but George put his hands on my shoulder and kept me down.

“She’ll be fine.”

“See.” I huddled under the blanket. “I’ll be fine.”

Officer Manning frowned. “Is there anyone you can call?”

“Um, why?” I had to ask. “It’s only a little shock. I don’t need a ba . . . ba . . . babysitter.”

“You can’t stay here tonight,” he pointed out. “This is a crime scene.”

“Oh.” It was my turn to frown. “The whole hotel?” Distracted by this new development, I was able to use my elbows to hold myself up. The blanket pooled around my jean-covered lap.

“The season starts in four weeks. I’m in the middle of renovations.” Not that I didn’t have a backup plan. My hotel management degree had taught me how to be frugal and efficient. But I was stubborn and didn’t want to use Plan B. That meant at least a three-week delay in opening, giving my competitors a significant advantage.

Wait . . . Was that why someone had killed Joe, to try to run me out of business?

I pushed the silly thought away. School had taught me that people would do the craziest things to see a competitor fail. But good sense told me most people drew the line at killing someone. What was the point of that? Right? Besides, it wouldn’t take such a dramatic act to see a person fail. It was far too easy to lose money in any small business, more specifically the competitive fudge shop business here on island.

After all, Mackinac Island was known as the fudge capital of the world. Everyone here took their fudge very seriously—including my Papa Liam.

“Always have a backup plan,” Papa Liam had drilled into my head growing up. “Creative thinking helps.”

“We’ll need you out of the hotel at least for tonight while we work,” Officer Manning said. “Longer if need-be.”

“What? No. There’s no need-be.” I sat all the way up. George checked my blood pressure again. I waited patiently for him to be done before going on. “I have a business to run.”

Well, get back up and running. Papa’d let the hotel wear down a bit the last two years while I was in culinary school. I’d been shocked at the shape of the place when I’d taken over.

It’s why I’d started the renovations right after Papa’s death. He’d already done most of the groundwork with the Mackinac Island historical society. I knew he wouldn’t want me to put my dream of running the family business aside just because he’d gone toes up, or in Papa’s case nose down, unexpectedly.

“At least let me continue with the renovations in the lobby.” I tried not to beg. “If I have any delays, I’ll lose my subcontractors.”

I glanced at George, looking for support in my hour of need. He stood and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting, I assume, for Officer Manning to tell him what to do next.

Officer Manning narrowed his eyes. His mouth tightened slightly. “Subcontractors are the least of your worries, Ms. McMurphy. Is there someone you can call?”

“Frances Wentworth.” She was a retired school teacher who’d spent the last twenty years working for Papa Liam in the summers as front-desk clerk and reservation organizer.

“Call her,” he ordered. “George, come with me.” With that, both men took off down the hall and disappeared into the closet.

I lay back down and blew out a long breath as I stared at the hall ceiling. It needed painting. The white color was no longer eggshell, and in fact the plaster had cracked into the most interesting of shapes.

“Call her,” Officer Manning said from down the hall. The man had stuck his head out to check on me.

“Yes, sir.” I did my best interpretation of a salute and pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I could stay in a motel,” I muttered; then I realized that I was on an island in the off-season and—the most important thing of all—the other hotels were also my competitors. Not that they had anything to worry about at this point.

I mean, I had a crumbling ceiling, half-completed renovations, and a dead body in my closet. Everyone would be taking bets I’d even open by the start of the season.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Frances. It’s Allie McMurphy. I’m so sorry to bother you after nine
PM
.”

“It’s okay, Allie, are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Um, is your spare room empty?”

“Yes, why? Are you having a problem with the water heater? I told you the pilot light goes out when the wind howls. I’ll walk you through relighting it if you want.”

“No.” I took a deep breath. “No, the water heater is fine, I think.”

“Are you sure? Because I can call around and hunt down Colin if you’re afraid of lighting it yourself.”

Colin Ferber was the McMurphy’s handyman and as old as Papa Liam. He was also known to imbibe a bit too often and hadn’t been the most reliable of help. Not that it mattered right now.

“No, no.” I threw my arm over my eyes so I didn’t have to look at the cracked plaster on the ceiling. “This isn’t a handyman issue.”

“Good, you scared me for a moment.” It sounded as if she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Why do you need my spare room?”

“It’s not a handyman issue, it’s a policeman issue.”

“What?”

“I found a dead man in the second-floor utility closet, and now Officer Manning says I can’t sleep here tonight. Due to the crime scene and all that stuff.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

“Frances?”

“Honey, are you okay? You aren’t making any sense.”

“Yes, I’m fine. The EMT checked me out.”

“EMT?”

“Yes, I believe his name is George Marron.”

“Allie!”

“What?”

“You are not fine. Seriously, you found a dead man?”

“Yes. In the utility closet on the second floor.”

“There’s a dead man in the McMurphy’s second-floor utility closet . . .”

“Yes.”

“Did you call 9-1-1?”

“Yes, although Charlene wasn’t very helpful. I had to call her three times before she realized I was serious.”

“Now that sounds like Charlene. Were you alone?”

“When I found him or when I called? Because the answer to both is yes. I’m just glad I found him tonight and didn’t spend the night sleeping a floor above a dead man.” I shuddered at that thought. My stomach did a little weird roll. Maybe I did need to sleep somewhere else tonight.

“Oh, Allie.” She sounded like she might be a little sick.

“Stay with me, Frances,” I begged. “I’m being evicted for the night. Can I stay with you or will I need to get a room in another hotel?”

“Of course you can stay with me, honey. I’m getting dressed and coming to get you.”

A wave of relief went through me. I gathered the woven cotton blanket around me. “Thank you.” I drew up my knees to my chest and hugged them. “I can’t figure out how it happened.”

“How what happened? The dead man or how you found him?”

“I know how I found him, I was looking for a mop. The lobby toilet overflowed.”

“You need a plumber.”

“I know. I have one scheduled to come in to update all the fixtures and snake the pipes. What I don’t understand is how Joe got into the McMurphy and how he died. Why didn’t I hear anything?”

“I don’t understand.” Frances’s voice moved in and out as she clearly prepared to come get me. “Who is it who died and did he fall? Or maybe something fell on him? Will there be an insurance claim?”

“Gosh, I hadn’t even thought about insurance. Do you think this will raise my rates?”

“Maybe if it’s a liability issue.”

I banged my forehead on my knees. “Why don’t they talk about these things on crime shows?”

“Because insurance is not as interesting as solving a crime, I imagine,” Frances replied. “It’s like paying your taxes. Everybody does it, but no one wants to see a show about it on television.”

“But no one was supposed to be in the building,” I lamented. “Will I still be liable if they were trespassing and died?”

“First off, who was it? Did you say ‘Joe’?”

“Yes, it’s Joe Jessop.”

Frances was once again silent. I waited three whole heartbeats. “Hello?”

“Are you sure it’s Joe Jessop?” she asked.

“As sure as Officer Manning,” I replied.

“Well, hell.” It was the first time I’d ever heard Frances curse. Not that I blamed her. I mean, Joe was a pretty important member of the community. There was bound to be a lot of press. “Don’t say anything to anyone, dear,” Frances said. “I’ll call my cousin William.”

“Why?”

“He’s a lawyer, dear, and you’re going to need one.”

Using a double boiler fill
of the bottom pan with water and heat on medium high until the water is boiling. Then you can turn the heat down to low and in the top section, mix sweetened condensed milk, coconut milk, white chocolate chips, and butter. Stir constantly until chips and butter are melted. Remove from heat. Add lime juice and rum, and stir until combined. Add coconut. Mix well. Pour into 8” × 8” × 2” pan prepared beforehand (by buttering pan and placing waxed paper in the bottom). Cool completely. Cut and serve. Store in covered container.

For party fun, place in paper or foil candy cups and add a maraschino cherry on top. Garnish with small drink umbrella or pirate flag.

*Invest in a double boiler for making fudge. Using a water bath (fudge pan inside a larger and with steam/boiling water) to heat the fudge keeps the chocolate from scorching and or sugaring.

Also, a good candy thermometer is necessary if you choose to make the kind without sweetened condensed milk.

“Are you positive it’s Joe Jessop?” Frances craned her neck to try to see around the crime-scene tape.

“I’m positive.” I hitched the handle of my pink overnight case up onto my shoulder. “Officer Manning confirmed his identity.”

“Well, I’d like to know what Joe was doing in the utility closet.” Frances put her hands on her hips. She wore a maxi skirt made out of a crazy swirling pattern consisting of orange and blue and yellow and red. Over that was a lovely pale blue wool peacoat, and a matching hat covered her gray-brown hair. She drew herself up to her full five-foot-two-inch height. “I know that man and your grandpa had some kind of long-standing feud, but Liam is dead. There was no reason for Joe to continue to come here and play pranks.”

“Wait, what? Did Joe Jessop make a habit of sneaking into the McMurphy?”

“Only once a year. And only in the spring, but each time he’d start a few weeks before the tourist season. It was an annual ritual. Joe would sneak in and play a prank on Liam. Liam would set up cameras and all kinds of traps for Joe. But Liam never caught him. In their old age it became a game of pride.”

“What did?”

“Why, who could prank the other first, of course.” Frances grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward the stairs. “Come on. I called my cousin William.”

“Yes, I know, the lawyer.”

“He said you’re to stay with me for the night. But first we’re to tell the police that they can’t search any other floor without a proper warrant.”

“Right.” I hadn’t thought about the fact that they could go through Papa’s apartment. I suppose I should call it my apartment since I lived there now. “They can’t go through the McMurphy, can they? I mean, my apartment has nothing to do with Joe’s murder.”

“We won’t know that until we check it out,” Officer Manning said from the bottom of the stairs. “For that matter, we don’t know if Joe’s death was accidental or not.”

“The apartment is a mess.” I stopped on the bottom stair and stood a head taller than the handsome officer. “I’m in the middle of packing Papa and unpacking me.”

“We don’t judge housekeeping, we’re simply going to ensure everyone is safe.”

“From what? Killer box tape? Because I have a few rolls of that lying around.”

“Where there are boxes there’s usually a box knife or two.” A second police officer walked in and adjusted his gun belt. His jacket covered his name tag.

“But Joe wasn’t stabbed,” I protested.

“How do you know that?” The younger officer looked me in the eye. He had dark green eyes and light brown hair. His hat was tucked under his arm.

“Don’t say anything more.” Frances grabbed my arm. “If you want to ask Allie any questions, you’ll have to wait for her attorney.”

“You have an attorney already?” Officer Manning asked.

“Yes, I called my cousin William,” Frances said. “He’s flying over from St. Ignace. In the meantime I’m taking her to my house.”

“Before you go, are you sure you’re the only one with a key to the building?”

“There’s only one master key and I have it.” I dug the keys out of my pocket.

“Don’t you have a maintenance guy?” the younger officer asked. “A place this old takes regular maintenance.”

“Colin Ferber,” I said. “Papa was always here when he worked so there was no need for him to have a copy of the keys.”

“We’ll want to speak to Colin,” Officer Manning said to the younger officer who nodded and wrote a note in his notebook.

“It’s hard to tell where Colin may be at any given moment. He generally shows up when he needs money. But I did hear a rumor that you might find him at the Mare’s Head Pub.” Frances pulled me down from the stairs. “He’s a bit of a recluse and I know he’s still mourning Liam’s passing.”

“Right,” Officer Manning stated. “I’ll be calling on you in the morning, Ms. McMurphy.”

“No worries,” I said as Frances dragged me toward the door. “I’ll be back at first light. I’ve got contractors to let inside.”

“Great.”

“Good,” I said.

“Fine,” the young officer said.

Frances opened the door, and I grabbed my coat from the wrought-iron hall tree next to the door. “If you see Colin, please let him know I need to see him. He can find me in my office by eight.”

“Come on.” Frances tugged me out the door.

“They aren’t going to go through my boxes, are they?” I asked as I tugged on my coat.

I had most of my things shipped to the McMurphy because I planned on spending the rest of my life here and didn’t see any need for storage. Unfortunately my grandparents had lived on the top floor of the McMurphy their entire married lives. After Grammy’d died, Papa’d created a place all his own up there, filling the space with “stuff.”

In fact, the apartment still held so many of his things even his scent haunted it. I found it comforting and difficult to box up and remove Papa’s things. My own stuff was in a crate stored at the dock. I even slept in the guest room. I hadn’t had the time or the desire to clear Papa out of the apartment. Now I wish I had. The last thing he’d ever want was for the police to go through his things.

“They have to have cause to search the rest of the building, right?” I chewed on my bottom lip as we moved past the ambulance. The vehicle was so out of place on an island without any automobiles, and yet we were all grateful for the convenience when an EMT in a horse-drawn carriage seemed more terrifying than quaint. It was the first time I’d ever seen it used.

The sight of it had drawn a small crowd.

“What’s going on?”

“Is everything all right?”

“I heard a contractor shot himself with a nail gun. Is that true?”

“Are you a McMurphy?”

“I heard Colin Ferber fell down the stairs. Is that true?”

People talked all at once when we stepped toward the ambulance. “What?” I asked, trying to make sense of the questions.

“Don’t say anything,” Frances reminded me and pulled me through the group. George Marron stepped out after us, and my neighbors mobbed him instead, looking for answers to their questions.

Frances hadn’t answered mine. “They can’t go through my boxes, can they?”

“The neighbors? No, the police will keep them out.”

“No, the police,” I clarified. “They aren’t going to go through my drawers, are they?” Drawers made me think of lingerie and the fact that I hadn’t done laundry so there was a large pile of dirty clothes in the corner of my room. Mom always told me to keep up with my laundry. You never knew who would be going through your room. Who knew she was right?

“They can if they have cause.” Frances flashed her perfect teeth. “I think a dead man is good cause.” Her flawless skin barely held a wrinkle, which was a trick considering she was seventy years old. Age didn’t matter for some people. Besides her perfect skin, Frances was smart as a whip. When she said she thought something was true, I believed her.

“But only if he was murdered,” I stated. “And even then, if I’m a murder suspect, would I be stupid enough to call in the body? And then hide the murder weapon in my underwear drawer?” I was not about to let go of the idea of handsome Officer Manning rummaging through my dirty clothes.

“People have been known to do sillier things.”

I blew out a long breath. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Oh, goodness no.” She patted my hand. “I don’t, but even though you are Liam’s granddaughter, many people feel you are far from a local.”

“What? I practically grew up here. I spent almost every summer of my childhood on island.”

“That’s not living here full-time. Don’t worry, if you stick it out, maybe in twenty years or so you’ll be a local too . . . maybe.”

Trouble was, I didn’t have twenty or thirty years to fit in. If I was to keep up appearances, I needed to be a local now. “Wait, do you think Joe was playing a prank on me when he died?” A cold wind blew in off Lake Huron. It hit me like a slap in the face. I walked the gaslit street, leaving my home because there was a dead man inside. My teeth chattered a bit.

“No telling.” Frances shrugged. “Guess the final prank was on him.”

“I suppose,” I muttered as I huddled into my down jacket and walked along the darkened sidewalk. I kept my head down against the cold and nearly ran smack into a solid, warm male figure who smelled good. My shoulder bounced off his chest, sending me sideways.

“Hey!” He grabbed me by the forearm until I was steady. His dark eyes were shadowed by the streetlight. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry,” I muttered.

“Slow down,” he offered. “People’ll think you’re late for a funeral.”

“Right.” I know it was a common saying, but his words could not be much closer to the truth. Only I wasn’t running toward a dead guy, I was running away from one.

“That’s Trent Jessop,” Frances offered.

“As in Joe Jessop’s son?” The man removed his cowboy hat and walked right into my hotel as if it were his. I turned to go back.

“His grandson.” Frances put her arm through mine and dragged me toward her house. “He runs Jessop Stables. They’ve had horses on island for over a hundred years.”

“Why’s he going into my hotel?” I hitched the strap of my overnight bag higher on my shoulder. “Shouldn’t I be there?”

“I imagine Rex called him to identify the body, and no, you should not be there.”

“But it’s my place.”

“And it’s in good hands.” Frances patted my arm and pulled my attention back to her. “You keep your apartment locked, right?”

I lifted my keys and jingled them. “Yes.” It was something Papa Liam had taught us early on. When you lived in a public venue, you always kept your door locked. Tourists seemed to have the idea that once you let them inside, the entire place was theirs.

“Then they won’t search it without you there.” She stepped up to the porch of the painted lady that was now split into four condos. In the dark, it looked a bit like a spooky Addam’s Family house. I suppose that was part of the
Meet Me in St. Louis
feel. I loved that movie, and Frances’s house always made me feel as if Judy Garland could emerge from around the corner at any moment.

She unlocked her condo door and waved me inside. “I suggest you let Rex Manning and my cousin, your lawyer, deal with Trent Jessop, my dear.”

“Why? The man just lost his grandfather. I know how that feels. Are you sure I shouldn’t go back and talk to him?” I stepped into the lovely golden glow of warmed dark wood and plaster walls painted in a pale gold. It was significantly warmer inside than out.

“Trent Jessop isn’t going to want to talk to you.” Frances made a firm line with her mouth. “Especially after he finds out that not only did his granddad die in the McMurphy, but Liam’s granddaughter was the one who called it in.”

“None of that was my fault.” I followed her through the living room and into the spare bedroom. The condo was simple yet smart. The front held an office/den separated from the living area by pocket doors. It also had a master bedroom with a large walk-in closet. On the other side of the living space was a small spare bedroom and the kitchen, with a full bath tucked in between.

“I know that his death wasn’t your fault and you know that.” She flicked on the light switch, illuminating a full-sized wrought-iron bed covered with thick blankets and one of those old bumpy knotted coverlets in pale green. She faced me, her brown eyes filled with concern. “But all Trent Jessop knows is that his granddad is dead and possibly at the hands of his worst enemy.”

“Wait, what? I didn’t even know Joe.” I slid the overnight case off my shoulder. “I mean, I met him once or twice, sure, but that’s no reason to consider him my enemy or for me to do something crazy like kill him.”

“Try telling a Jessop that.” She shook her head and tsked her tongue. “They love a good feud. It’s the Scotsman in them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I muttered, following her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. “Surely everyone else on island will know better.”

“My guess is they’re taking sides as we speak.” She took off her hat and hung it and her coat up on a coat tree in the corner. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.” I hung my coat on the same tree and sat down at the round kitchenette table. “I think I’m going to need it.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Frances said with a serious nod. “All the best people will be on your side.”