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Authors: Nancy Coco

To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes) (21 page)

BOOK: To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes)

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CHAPTER 36

“Oh,” was all I could say after his kiss.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for some time, but I thought you had something going with Jessop.” He had his arms around me, and I could feel his heart beat under my palm.

“I’ve been busy building my fudge shop and I know that Trent’s been busy with salvaging his mulch business.”

It was Rex’s turn to say, “Oh.” He dropped his hands and took a step back. “I’m sorry if I stepped out of line.”

“No.” I put my hand back on his chest. “No, not out of line at all.” I hugged myself. “I meant to say that I’m not dating anyone.”

Jenn walked into the apartment in the middle of my sentence. “Amen. Allie’s love life is dead. In fact, I think you’ll find it buried in a casket in the basement.”

“No,” I said quickly. “There are no caskets buried in the basement.”

“That you know of,” Jenn said with a wink. “Don’t mind me. I came in to get a sweater.” She dutifully walked into her room and then back out, sweater in hand. “Continue.” She waved her hand and closed the door behind her.

There was a knock on the apartment door at the same time that Rex got a call on his walkie-talkie. I left him to talk to Charlene and opened my door to find Trent standing there. Jenn was a few feet away, rubbing her hands together with glee. I gave her the stink eye.

“Hi, Allie, are you busy?” Trent asked.

“Um, I was just talking to Rex about the television show . . .”

Trent looked over my shoulder and drew himself up straight. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Rex said and stepped to the door. “I’ve got a call I need to tend to.” He kissed me on the cheek as he went by. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

“What was that all about?” Trent asked as he stepped into my apartment.

“I’m not quite sure,” I said and closed the door. “What can I do for you, Trent?”

“I’m sure there is a lot you can do.” He sat down on the arm of Papa Liam’s chair and crossed his arms. “My question is, what do you want to do?”

“You know what? I need a cup of coffee.” I bustled into the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He got up and took a barstool and sat down at the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living area.

“Coffee’s great, thanks.”

I rinsed out my French press and went through the steps to make a fresh pot then poured him a thick black cup in a red mug. I noticed Rex’s mug still on the counter. I picked it up and put it in the sink, then refreshed my coffee. “I have half-and-half and sugar if you need it.”

“I’m good.” His brown gaze studied me thoughtfully. “How’d the taping of the television show go?”

“It was okay.” I shook my head. “I’m not allowed to say anything about it until it airs.”

“I wasn’t asking about the outcome.” He looked at me over the top of his cup. “I was hoping you’d have more clues into that cast member’s death.”

“Oh, you should have asked Rex, he’s working on the case.”

“Manning wouldn’t tell me anything. He’s still investigating Jessop Compost and Mulch for a suspect in Heather’s murder.”

“Oh. You know, I think there has to be a way that these two deaths are connected.”

“I don’t see how.”

“I keep coming back to Tammy Gooseworthy. She was in competition with Heather for the pastry chef job at the new Grander Hotel. Her father owns the Island Compost and Mulch, which stands to gain over your shutdown. If it had been their shredder that had evidence on it, I would have said it was her right away.”

“What about the other girl? What was her name?”

“Her name was Cathy and she ate what looked like my fudge and was poisoned. Maybe it wasn’t Cathy the poisoner was trying to kill.” I paused, letting my thoughts settle. “Tammy wanted an in to the television show. She came into the McMurphy and tried to get Peter to taste her fudge.”

“It makes sense in a weird sort of way,” Trent said. “Jessop Compost and Mulch was set to leverage Island out of business. I was in talks with Gooseworthy to buy him out before he went bankrupt.”

“So, you think your business was sabotaged by the murderer?”

“It was an efficient way of shutting me down.” Trent had that smooth, thoughtful look of a man in charge.

“Plus, Tammy’s been busy. When she’s not at work, she’s been skulking around the show set,” I said. “Jenn can corroborate that.” I frowned. “I don’t see how she had the time—or frankly the intelligence—to not only murder two people but to frame you and me in the process.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Tammy. Maybe it was someone who loves Tammy and wants to see her succeed at all costs,” I pointed out.

“Like who? Her father?”

“Maybe.” I winced. “Frankly, I don’t know Ed Gooseworthy.”

“Yeah, well, I do, and I can’t see Ed killing Heather and then disposing of her body on my property.”

“And they say it’s women who use poison to kill.” I bit my bottom lip. “Still, Peter said he was pretty sure there were two people who attacked him with baseball bats. That’s a lot of anger.”

“What if the two aren’t connected?”

“Which two?”

“Your friend’s beating and Cathy’s murder.”

“Then I would believe that Cathy’s murder and Heather’s murder are connected and Tammy Gooseworthy is the key.”

“It’s an interesting idea.”

I leaned against the breakfast bar. “I have a question.”

“Okay.”

“What’s behind your property? I saw Mrs. Finch disappear back into the woods behind the compost and mulch yard. What would she be doing back there?”

He shrugged. “Looking for her dog, maybe?”

“No, Daisy was in jail—literally. Rex had her behind bars to keep her out of his crime scene.”

“I haven’t been through those woods back there in a couple of years. There was a cabin back there at one time. When I was a kid we pretended it belonged to pirates.”

“Okay, now I have to know what Mrs. Finch was doing.” I put my cup in the sink and grabbed my jacket. “Want to come?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER 37

The walk was faster when I wasn’t following someone. Trent knew the shortcuts to his property, and we were there in less than ten minutes.

To keep things from looking too suspicious, I put Mal on her leash and took her with us. If anyone asked, we were walking the dog . . . to the compost area . . . through the woods. Okay, so it was suspicious.

When we reached the compost yard, I was shocked by how different it looked. “Wow, you got rid of all the mulch.” The two-story-high piles had been leveled, and the earth was bare and smooth where the piles once were.

“I had to—the family was horrified. I received permission to respectfully dig a deep hole in St. Ann’s Cemetery. We buried the mulch and compost and planted two trees. The family intends to place a bench between them with a placard with Heather’s name.”

“Oh, what a nice thing you did. Heather’s family is lucky to have someone like you.”

“I’m not all that nice,” he said with a pirate’s smile. “I couldn’t sell any of it with human body parts in it. Placing it in the cemetery saved me from having to get a permit to bury human remains.”

I shook my head. “I guess, then, congratulations on making the best of a bad situation.”

Mal had her nose to the ground and pulled on the leash.

“She smells something,” Trent said and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let’s hope it’s not any more body parts.”

“She’s tugging me in the same direction Mrs. Finch took the other day.”

I loosened my grip on the leash, and Mal started to run, nose to the ground. Trent and I jogged behind her as she edged the woods behind the Jessop property.

“I haven’t been back here in years,” Trent said as he held up a branch so I could duck under it. Mal followed a path only she could see through the ferns and sumac and old growth of cedar and beech trees. After about one hundred yards the woods opened up into a small clearing. Daisy bounded out of a small shack and greeted Mal with a hearty “woof.”

“Hi, Daisy,” I said when the big dog came over to sniff her welcome. “What are you doing out here?” I let go of Mal’s leash and patted Daisy on the head.

“Hey, girl,” Trent said as he gave her a welcome scratch on the back of her neck. “Is Mrs. Finch inside?”

Mal barked, and I realized that she was nowhere to be seen. “Mal?” Panic rose in my body, going from my heart to my neck to my throat. “Mal, come here now.”

Mal popped out of the half-opened door. Relief washed over me. “Come here, you little sneak.”

Mal barked once and disappeared into the shack.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” I muttered and peered in the door. “Mrs. Finch, are you here?”

There was no answer, so I opened the door to let the light in and called, “Hello?”

“Mrs. Finch?” Trent called from directly behind me. “We’re coming in.” He motioned for me to stay put while he moved around me and put himself between me and whoever or whatever was in the shack.

The building was smaller than a one-car garage, with a sloping roof made up of cedar shingles. There were two windows, both so small they didn’t let much light inside. To the left was a small stone hearth and a potbelly stove with a chimney that vented outside through a hole in the wall.

“Mal? Come, Mal.” I ordered and snapped my fingers. Mal came out from under a wooden cot. Her normally white, fluffy fur was streaked with black. She turned and faced the underside of the bed and barked, her little stubbed tail wagging wildly.

I got down on all fours and looked under the bed with Mal. “What is it?” It was so dark there was no way I could see anything. I grabbed my cell phone out of the pocket of my jacket and turned it on to use it as a flashlight.

“Oh,” was all I said as I sat up on my knees.

“What is it?” Trent was beside me in a moment.

“Um, not a what, but a who,” I said, and Mal barked and wagged her stubby tail.

“What?” Trent got down on all fours and looked under the bed. “It’s pitch-black.”

“Here.” I handed him my cell phone to use as a flashlight.

He shone the light under the bed, jerked back, bumped his head on the bedframe, and scooted three feet behind me.

“Was that a . . . ?”

“Mummy,” I replied. Mal jumped up and kissed my cheek. I grabbed her and held her fluffy body next to mine and let her kiss me.

“You’re so darn calm,” Trent said as he stood with my cell phone still in his hand.

“I know, right? So weird. I mean, on television everyone goes running and screaming when faced with a dead person.”

“Everyone, that is, but you.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“It makes me look suspicious,” I said and sat.

“I was going to say brave,” Trent said. “Who do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Are you missing anyone?”

“No,” he replied. “And that body is all bones in a T-shirt and jeans.”

“We should phone someone,” I said from my position on the floor in the middle of the dusty shack. I noticed that there was little inside but the potbelly stove, the old fashioned rope-strung twin bed, a small table, and two chairs.

“Right.” Trent used my phone to call 9-1-1. “Hi, Charlene, no, this is Trent Jessop. Yes, I’m using Ms. McMurphy’s cell phone. No, this is not a prank. Yes, she seems to be fine.” He glanced my way. I held Mal tight and watched him deal with Charlene like a pro. “We need Officer Manning and his team to come out here. We’ve found another body.”

Sneaker’s Fudge Bars

3 cups of sugar
Dash of salt

cup of cocoa powder
1½ cups of milk
¼ cup butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups peanuts
2 cups caramel chips
Nougat—see recipe below.

Prepare an 8” x 8” x 2” pan—butter the pan, cover the inside with parchment paper or wax paper. Butter the paper and set the pan aside.

In a large, heavy saucepan mix sugar, salt, cocoa powder, and milk. Stir over medium heat until the ingredients reach a full boil. Let boil unstirred until a candy thermometer reads 125°F or the soft-ball stage is reached. Remove from heat.

Add butter and vanilla—do not mix. Cool until the thermometer reads 110°F, then beat until fudge thickens and just begins to lose its gloss. Quickly pour half the fudge in the pan and spread to cover the bottom. Layer nougat (see recipe below), peanuts, and caramel chips. Top with remainder of fudge. Cool completely. Cut into 1” pieces. Enjoy!

Nougat

2 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon corn syrup
2 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons water
1 egg white

Place first four ingredients in a saucepan—stir over low heat until it reaches the soft-crack stage (about 3–4 minutes) or a candy thermometer reads 275°F; remove from heat.

Whisk egg white until stiff—drizzle in the cooling sugar mixture until egg white is glossy and stiff.

Add to fudge for Sneaker’s fudge.

BOOK: To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes)

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