All Fudged Up (A Candy-Coated Mystery) (9 page)

“What exactly are you looking for?” I asked.

“Evidence.” Officer Brown stepped into the apartment and pulled on a pair of gloves.

“How do you know what’s evidence?” I was sincerely curious. How did they know? I’d seen plenty of newscasts in Chicago where the police came out with bags and boxes of possible evidence and I often wondered how they judged what to take and what to leave. Had they ever lost a case by leaving the wrong thing?

“We have an idea based on the crime scene and the autopsy,” Officer Manning said. “We also look for anything that may be contraband from illegal activity and take that.”

“Illegal activity?” I stood and shoved my hands in my back pockets. “Like drugs?”

“Or stolen goods,” Officer Brown said and went into the tiny galley kitchen that opened to the living area. “Anything that might give us a motive behind the killing.”

“If you find anything, will you let me know?” I leaned to talk so that Officer Manning could hear me as he moved to the bathroom. “I haven’t cleaned out the place since Papa died.”

“Everything we take will be cataloged and inventoried,” Officer Brown said. He was suddenly in front of me. “It would be better if you went downstairs.”

“I want to be here,” I said. “I feel a little weird about you guys going through my bedroom.”

“We’re professionals.” His tone was smooth. “It’s business, not personal.”

“It will feel personal to know one or both of you were riffling through my underwear.”

Officer Brown turned a lovely shade of red. “Officer Manning will go through your drawers. He’s had two wives so I’m sure he won’t judge.”

“Two wives? Really?” It was hard to imagine anyone leaving the calm, handsome-in-an-action-hero-sort-of-way man. “Why?”

“The island is a little isolated. It’s great for vacation but it takes a certain kind of person to live here year-round.”

“And Officer Manning is that kind of person?”

“He grew up here,” Officer Brown said. “Now I need to ask you to step out.” He took my elbow and turned me to the door, then waved his left hand and gave me a gentle push with his right.

“Fine, but I’m sending in my lawyer as soon as he gets here.” I stepped out into the hall. “Let me know if you find Papa Liam’s pocket watch, will you? I’ve been looking for it.”

Officer Brown closed the door and I leaned against the wall. Were they really looking for evidence or where they simply trying to get me to give up and go back to Chicago?

Grammy used to say I could be stubborn for stubborn’s sake. Is that what I was doing here? There were two policemen that I barely knew going through my stuff, and worse, they were going through Papa’s stuff looking for clues to the murder of a man on the floor below the apartment. I mean, a man was murdered for crying out loud and all I cared about was continuing my remodel so that I could welcome guests back to the McMurphy. That was a little harsh. No wonder people wore purple ribbons. They didn’t know me.

I’d been living as if Papa were still here. As if this were his hotel, his fudge shop. Heck, I hadn’t even bothered to get to know anyone in town who wasn’t one of Papa’s friends. I certainly hadn’t been interested in anything the community did. No wonder they had trouble wearing a green ribbon. I couldn’t even bring myself to name the puppy Frances had given me, because if I named her she would be mine. If she were mine, then that meant I was really going to stay here and make the island my home.

If I were going to make this island my home I needed to decide to do it and commit. That meant changing my driver’s license. Even though there were no cars allowed on island, having a driver’s license and bills naming the McMurphy my home meant it was all very real.

I’d been waiting to see if I could make a go at it. That was the wrong way to do it. From now on I would think of it differently. The McMurphy was my home and if I was lucky I’d be running it until the day I went toes up at the senior center. Preferably with a margarita in one hand and a piece of chocolate raspberry fudge in the other.

“I’m in trouble.” I sat down hard in a sheet-covered wing-back chair in the lobby.

“I told you to let William handle the police.” Frances sat across from me in an equally paint-splattered, sheet-covered chair. The puppy slept in her lap and she randomly ran her hand over the sweet baby’s soft fur.

“It’s not the police,” I said. “I have no friends.” Frances sent me a sharp look and I pulled back. “I didn’t mean it that way. What I meant to say is that I have not made any attempt to become a part of the community. I’ve spent the last three weeks here concerned about the McMurphy and ignoring the people who make Mackinac Island the beautiful place that it is.”

“What brought on this revelation?”

“The fifty-two green ribbons I bought today.” I put my elbows on my knees and my chin on my fists. “And the five remaining purple ones.”

“Trent Jessop has lived on island his whole life,” Frances said.

“I can’t even bring myself to hire my own handyman or name my own dog.” I waved my hand at the sleeping pup.

“Let me guess.” Frances leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “This is where you toss up your arms, say it’s no use, and slink back to Chicago.”

“She can’t leave until we finish our investigation,” Officer Manning said behind me.

He had two bags of something in his hands. I stood and grasped the chair. “I have no plans to leave. What’s in the bags?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get a full inventory.” His expression gave nothing away.

My heartbeat sped up. “I haven’t gone through Papa’s things yet. How will I know what you’ve taken? What if you leave something off the inventory?”

He tilted his head and looked at me as if I were a small child. “Are you accusing me of stealing?”

I hugged myself and fought back the tears. “No. I’m sad that you now know more about what Papa Liam left in the apartment than I do.”

“I’m sorry about that, Allie.” His tone was gruff. “I’m doing my job.”

“I know, please be careful with whatever you took. It might not mean anything to you but it might mean the world to me.”

Frances got up and put her hand on my shoulder. I took the puppy from her and buried my face in its soft warm fur.

“We’re done here,” he said. “Officer Brown and I will see ourselves out. “One piece of advice . . .”

“Yes?”

“Get dead bolts put on your back doors.”

He and Officer Brown left as respectfully as you could carrying bags of things from someone’s house.

“Officer Manning sure is dedicated to his job,” I said to Frances. “Doesn’t his girlfriend get upset that he spends hours searching other people’s homes instead of coming home for dinner?”

“He quit dating after his second wife left,” Frances said and went over to the reception desk and started her computer.

“Well, I wonder why?” My sarcasm always came out when I was tired or upset. To downplay how mean I sounded I looked at Frances. “No, really, Officer Brown said he had two wives. They both left him . . . why?”

Frances looked up at me from her computer. “First off, he married his high school sweetheart. When you’re 18 years-old you think you’re a grown up. So you do what grown ups do. You get married.” Frances’s mouth was a straight line. “Then you wake up at 28 and realize that life is nothing like you thought. I think Rex would have stuck it out anyway, but Julie had enough of island life, packed up and hit the big city.”

“New York?”

“Ann Arbor.”

“Ann Arbor?”

Frances shrugged. “Any town is bigger than Mackinac Island in the off season.”

“And his second wife?”

“Cindy left after her second winter on island.”

I blew out a long breath and the puppy licked my cheek. Personally, I wasn’t afraid of spending my life on the island. In fact, living on the island year round was a life-long goal of mine. I wasn’t about to give up my goal because other people didn’t think I belonged here. In that moment, I knew that I would do whatever it took to get Papa’s things back. If that meant investigating myself, then so be it.

But first I needed help. “Come on, Mal,” I said to the pup. “Let’s put up a help-wanted sign.”

“Mal?” Frances asked.

“Yes.” I couldn’t help the smile that lifted my cheeks. “She looks like a fluffy marshmallow, doesn’t she? I will call her Mallow. Mal for short.” The puppy waggled her tail and licked my face.

“I think she likes it.” Frances grabbed up her coat and her fedora. “I’m going to go home and get some dinner. Are you going to be all right here?”

“I’ll be fine.” I showed her out. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving. The McMurphy has withstood two world wars and a Great Depression. A little purple ribbon is not going to get us down. Is it?” I asked the puppy, who answered by piddling down the front of me.

I laughed and found a house training pad and set her down on it. “Good thing we haven’t put in new rugs yet.”

 

 

“The whole island is taking sides?” Jennifer Christensen, my best friend from Chicago, said. “That’s crazy!”

“Right? I mean, when was the last time you heard of anyone doing that? Medieval times?” Jennifer and I used Skype often. My computer screen showed me that she was currently painting her toenails while I attacked the boxes in the living room. I’d ordered a pizza and beer from the Horseshoe Bar. Then I’d put my hair up in a kerchief and decided if the cops could go through Papa’s things, so could I. I’d spent the last two hours unpacking and repacking boxes, with Jennifer on the other end of my computer. Thank goodness for Internet connections and laptops with cameras and speakers.

“Who is this guy anyway that everyone would pick him over you?”

I pulled a ceramic cat from a box and sat back on my heels. “Trent Jessop? He’s only about the sexiest man I’ve seen in my life. Plus he owns the stables and wears cowboy boots. And worse . . . He smells good. You know, that kind of cologne man scent that makes you want to turn around and follow him anywhere?”

“Oh, my, God, does he wear chaps?” Jennifer stopped mid-toenail, her hands paused with bottle and applicator.

“Only in my dreams,” I said and we both laughed like school girls. “Seriously, the last time I ran into him, I told him how sorry I was for his loss. I mean, Papa Liam hasn’t been gone but two months now so I know how it feels.”

“What’d he say to that?” She went back to toenail painting. Today’s shade was a pretty peacock-blue.

“Nothing. He acted as if it wasn’t the same thing.” I wrapped the cat in white paper and put it in a box marked “estate sale.”

“He sounds like a real ass,” Jennifer said in her blunt way.

“A cute ass,” I said. “No, really though, I need help here. Would you do me a favor and put up a sign for interns? I’m thinking I could use a couple this summer. I can’t pay much, but they’d get free room here on island and I’d pay for a summer ferry pass.”

“Sounds like a dream. When do you want me?”

I stopped. “You would come and work for a room and a ferry pass?”

“Honey, if you throw in all the fudge I can eat, I’m all yours.”

“If you’re serious, then yes, come. I’ll take all the help I can get. And you’re not put off by the fact some guy died in my utility closet?”

“Are you kidding? I love ghost stories. I had an aunt who used to talk to spirits. She was a major medium in her day. It’ll be fun. Plus I’ll get to see the yacht races up close and smell this guy who hates you.” She winked at me. “Maybe he’ll like me.”

“Pack up your stuff and sublease your place,” I said. “I’ll clean out Papa’s room and you can have the guest room. Here’s to girl power.” I raised up my half-empty can of warm beer. She grabbed her margarita and toasted me.

“To girl power.” She tossed back her drink. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll text you with all the details as soon as I get them.”

“Sounds perfect.” I grabbed the puppy from where she sat chewing on paper and waved her little paw. “Bye, Jennifer, see you soon.”

“Bye, Mal, can’t wait to see you in the real world.” Jenn waved and shut off her Skype. My computer screen went dark. For the first time since Papa’s death things were looking up. With Jennifer here I could get twice as much work done and have four times the fun.

Of course, I’d really have to clean out the apartment now. There was a knock on my back door. Startled, I screamed. Mal screamed. We were the perfect pair.

The back door opened into the galley kitchen. It had a small square window that was head high. Too high for anyone but a monster to break the glass and open the door. I mean, it would take freakishly long arms to do it, but that didn’t mean my mind wasn’t afraid it could be done.

I crept into the kitchen. Mal barked furiously in my hands. With all the noise we both made there was no way to pretend I wasn’t home. Who climbs a fire escape three floors and knocks on a back door anyway?

The knock sounded again. “Allie?”

I looked out to see Officer Manning standing at the back door. I didn’t know if I was relieved or pissed that he scared me. I opened the door. “You only left four hours ago. I haven’t had time to buy dead bolts.”

He wore a flannel shirt over a T-shirt, and a work coat with shearling lining. He looked good in jeans and boots. It fit the action-hero thing he had going for him. “I promised we’d send a patrol by every couple of hours. I was off duty and thought I’d check on you myself.”

I pursed my lips and eyed him curiously. “Don’t you have another wife or soon-to-be ex waiting for you at home?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No, not seeing anyone right now, if that’s what you’re asking. Do you want me to come in and do a quick check of the building?”

“Only if you promise to check under the bed for monsters.” I held the door open.

“It’s all part of the job.” He stepped in and wiped his feet on the rug in front of the door. “Do you want me to take off my shoes?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m planning on replacing the carpets in here anyway.” I closed the door and discovered that the galley kitchen might be comfortable when you were alone, but a big man made it close quarters. “Come on then.” I waved him forward. “Start checking.”

He smelled of wood smoke and cologne. I had never seen him out of uniform and I discovered that his shoulders were broader than I imagined and his jeans fit him better than they should for a man who was divorced twice.

“Did I interrupt your dinner?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow toward the open pizza box and four remaining cans of beer.

I had set the pizza box on a stack of three boxes so that it would be out of Mal’s reach. The puppy sniffed the air and reached for Officer Manning as if he’d take her. Surprisingly, he did.

“Hello there. What’s this?” He scooped her up and held her out at eye level. Mal wiggled as if to say, “Let me in closer so I can kiss you.”

“That’s Mal. Frances gave her to me to help keep me safe.” I had to steel myself against the image of a big strong man holding a sweet little pup. Talk about your Hallmark moments.

“Hello, Mal.” He drew her close and she licked his cheek. He grinned and scratched her behind the ears. “Probably a good idea. She’s small now, but in a couple of weeks she’ll be big enough to warn you if anyone is in the apartment.”

That was a sobering thought. “Who’d want to get into my apartment?” I took Mal from him and cuddled her to my chest.

“Joe Jessop was murdered one floor down,” he said, his blue eyes darkened with concern. “If you didn’t do it, then someone else did. You have to ask yourself why? And more importantly, how did they get into the McMurphy?”

“I’ve been asking myself those questions and I really have no idea,” I said a bit defensively.

He put his hand up like a stop sign. “Whoa, look, I wasn’t accusing you of anything.”

“No? Then why’d you bring a warrant and go through my things?”

“I had to do it, Allie.” He rubbed his big hand over his shaved head. “It’s my job. And it’s the only way we could rule you out as a suspect.”

“Or rule me in.” I hugged the puppy, who had had enough and tried to squirm out of my hands, so I put her down. “Why else would you take those bags of things when you left?”

“It’s my job.” He stood there looking like an action figure who wished he wasn’t.

I gave the guy a break. I was in a good mood. Jennifer was coming up to help me out and I had finally named my puppy. “Are you on duty now or off duty?”

“I’m off.” He gave me a look like it was a crazy question. “I wear my uniform when I’m on duty.”

“Just checking,” I said, “before I offer you a beer.”

“A beer sounds great.”

I pulled one out of the plastic rings. “They’re losing their cold. My power was out most of the day and the fridge is still warm.”

“That’s fine.” He took it and popped open the top. “That refrigerator looks like it’s twenty years old. You should probably think about replacing it with a more energy-efficient one.”

I tilted my head and studied him. “I’ll get right on that.”

“Sorry.” He stepped into the living area and sat on the arm of the old brown couch. The couch itself was covered in boxes in varying stages of fullness. I had been using it as my sorting table. “I have a bad habit of giving advice where it’s not wanted.”

“Good to know.” I took a swallow of my beer. It was warm. Almost too warm, but I’d been too busy with sorting and chatting to pay much attention. “Yuck.” I made a face. “I didn’t think it was this warm. You don’t have to drink it.”

“I’m good.” He swallowed some to show me he was in fact fine with warm beer. He got up and wandered around, looking at what I was doing. “What are you going to do with this stuff?”

“I thought I’d have a yard sale.” I shrugged. “Do you think there’s a market for some of this stuff?”

“Sure, looks like Liam collected old tools and stuff.”

“Yeah, some of the tools look really funky. Then there are the bits of horse tack and such. Some of it looks centuries old.” I pulled a dry-rotted leather bit out of a box. “I don’t suppose the police force has horses here like they do in Central Park.”

“We prefer bikes,” he said and took a swig of beer. “They’ve got less upkeep and they don’t have to be housed, fed, or cleaned up after.”

“I know, right? The island is great, but, man, there’s a lot of manure on the streets. I wouldn’t want that job.”

He raised his brows.

“The street sweeper job . . .”

“No worse than mucking out the stables. I did that one summer when I was in junior high school.”

“Really?” It was hard imagining Officer Manning as anything other than a well-built crime fighter.

“Really, before that summer I was a scrawny kid. After all that shoveling and raking I became a mean, lean, fighting machine.”

Oh, good Lord, he said it with a straight face. “I bet you were popular with all the island girls.”

“I had my fair share of dates.” He finished off his beer and put the can on the counter with the others. “You recycle, right?”

“You bet. It’s a ten-cent deposit per can. I need every cent I can get if I want to make a go at running the McMurphy.”

“Speaking of, let’s go down and check it out.”

“Right.” I put my can next to his. “Come on Mal. Let’s keep the nice officer company.” I picked her up and she snuggled against me and closed her eyes.

“One hell of a guard dog you got there.” He winked.

“I think she’ll grow into her job,” I said.

“Are you going to crate train her?”

“Frances got me a crate. Do you have dogs?” I followed him down to the first floor and watched as he pulled a flashlight out of his belt and walked through the dark lobby.

“I like dogs. I don’t have one.” He flipped on the switch and I followed him to see if he really was looking for bad guys or simply using this as an excuse to search my place again.

“Commitment issues?” I asked.

He paused and looked at me over his shoulder. “No, just ask either of my two wives.”

Oh, boy. “Hmmm, maybe you commit too soon . . .”

“I see something I like, I take it. I don’t see any reason to wait.”

The look he gave me sent chills up my arms. I clutched the dog a little too tight and she protested with a tiny yelp. “Unless, of course, you’re in the middle of a murder investigation,” I quipped. At least I hoped it was a quip. It might have sounded this side of throaty.

“Unless there’s that.” He checked behind the receptionist area and flashed his light through the glass wall to take in the fudge kitchen. “Do you plan on making candy?”

“I do. I have a graduate degree in candy making.”

He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “You can get that?”

“Yes, you can.”

“So you won’t need to rely on your granddad’s recipes.”

“Oh, I’ll still offer the McMurphy specialties. But I’m creative. I like to try new flavors as well.”

“That might stir things up a bit.”

“What do you mean?” I followed him up the stairs to the second floor.

“Folks are used to certain ways around here. If you create too much of a stir, you might put a dent in other shops’ business.”

“That’s the plan.” I hugged my pup as he walked the hall and checked that all the doors were locked. “That’s not worth killing over, though.”

“You never know what’s worth killing over,” he said and rattled a door handle. “People kill for the darnedest reasons.”

I frowned. “Have you ever worked a homicide case before?”

“Once when I did a rotation down south. I spent a year in Detroit shadowing a couple of guys. Came across a drug deal gone bad. Not a pretty sight.”

“No wonder you were so cool when you saw Joe. It wasn’t your first time.”

He straightened and grinned. “It’s been a long time since anything was my first time, but that doesn’t mean I don’t remember.”

Oh, boy. I was not known to be good with quick, witty comebacks. The moment passed in awkwardness and he winked at me. I think I blushed. Okay, I know I blushed. It’s not like I didn’t date. It’s just I’ve spent my whole life so focused on being the McMurphy’s next owner/operator that I haven’t done much more than have a couple of really bad affairs.

“What did that murder suspect look like?” I asked. “Big, ugly crackhead or creepy little old lady?”

“Big, ugly gangbanger,” he said as he checked inside the utility closet and then moved on down to the final four rooms. “Any idea what Joe was doing in the utility closet?”

“No.” I sighed. “Frances has a theory but it’s a little odd.”

He finished checking the four doors and raised an eyebrow. “Do I get to hear it?”

“There’s no real way to prove it.” I shrugged. “Unless Joe left a note or told someone he was coming over we may never know.”

“He didn’t leave a note,” Officer Manning said. I suppose I could call him Rex now that he wasn’t in uniform. “At least not one we’ve found. Trent is going through his things.”

“You know I don’t have any feud with Trent or his grandfather for that matter.” I hugged Mal. The pup let out a squeak of annoyance. “I don’t know why he won’t talk to me.”

“Trent has a lot on his mind. Joe didn’t have a will and the family is squabbling. Then there’s the whole bit about his granddad being murdered.” Rex waved toward the steps and put his hand on my elbow when I tripped on a step that was uneven.

I made a mental note to fix that before a guest tripped on it.

“I’d steer clear of him until this whole thing blows over,” Rex said sincerely.

I tilted my head. “Did you buy a purple ribbon or a green one?”

He walked up the stairs behind me. “Now you know I can’t take sides. That lawyer Frances sicced on me would cry foul in a heartbeat.”

I narrowed my eyes and turned at the landing. “You bought a purple ribbon.”

“I did not.” He crossed his arms over his chest, but his eyes twinkled.

“You liar,” I teased. “You totally bought a purple ribbon.”

“Now why would I do that?” He stepped toward me. “Trent’s not nearly as good-looking as you are.”

“Officer Manning, are you hitting on me?” I tried to look innocent and naïve.

He put his arm up on the doorway and leaned into me. “I’d be in big trouble if I were sleeping with my murder suspect. And it’s Rex.”

I enjoyed the pause where his face was close to mine and he was working on whether to kiss me or not. Then I ducked under his arm and through the doorway into my apartment. “I wouldn’t want to scandalize the senior citizens.” I put Mal down on the navy-blue pillow I’d put on the floor for her dog bed. “Besides”—I straightened—“incentive for you to find Joe’s real killer.”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

Butter an 8” × 8” × 2” pan. Line with wax paper or plastic wrap. Drain strawberries, reserving juice. Combine strawberry, lime, and lemon juice with rum, mixing well.

In a double boiler fill the bottom with water and place on high until it reaches a rolling boil then turn to low. In the top pan, melt chocolate, butter, and sweetened condensed milk until smooth. Be careful not to burn. Add liquid 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring after each. (Use more or less to your taste.)

Remove from heat. Add crushed strawberries. Pour into pan. Cool. Tip: let cool outside of the refrigerator for 30 minutes so that no condensation mars the top. Refrigerate overnight. Remove from pan. Cut into pieces. Store in a covered container.