Fudge Bites Read online

  “The seniors are coming here for lunch today,” I said. “We’re going to be glazing our glass-bottom pinch pots. You can do a story on that.”

  “Not the same,” she said with a shake of her head. She went over and peered into the fudge shop. “I don’t see any fudge made this morning.” She turned and pointed at me accusingly. “That means you were there.”

  “No comment,” I said. I added tablecloths to the tables and tried to replicate our setup from the other day.

  The doorbells rang. It was Tara Reeves, the caterer, with soups and sandwiches for the buffet lunch. Dessert would be brownies and cupcakes—plus fudge, if I finished making it in time.

  “Thanks for catering,” I said as I walked Tara out.

  “I love to do it,” she said. “I’m going to start catering full time next season, actually, so if you have any events, please think of me first.”

  “Will do.”

  I turned back around to see Liz glaring at me. “Come on, Allie, give me something.”

  “I don’t know anything,” I said. “Rex found the body and wouldn’t let me near it.”

  “What were you and Rex doing out this morning?” Her eyebrows rose up, and she gave me a sly look.

  I rolled my eyes. “I went for a walk and found a bag of . . . stuff. So I called Rex. He came out and looked through the area, which is when he found the body. Okay? End of story.”

  “So you were there, and you do know what happened.” She grinned at me.

  “I can’t tell you anything.”

  The doorbells jangled again. This time it was Haley. She had her big box and her wagon full of supplies. I grabbed the door and held it for her. “Hi, Allie. All the pots made it through the first firing.”

  “Awesome. I’m excited to learn how to use the glass,” I said.

  Liz went out through the door once Haley’s wagon had cleared it. “Thanks, Allie.”

  “I didn’t tell you anything,” I shouted after her as she walked away. She gave me a wave, and I noticed people were staring. Frowning, I went back into the McMurphy. There wasn’t anything I could do. I hadn’t told her anything she probably didn’t already know. Maybe if I didn’t read her story, I wouldn’t have to know how she spun it.

  Chapter 15

  Mrs. Tunisian arrived early again with Mrs. Anderson in tow. “Allie, I hear they found another body this morning. Can you tell us anything?”

  Mrs. Anderson looked at me expectantly. Oh boy, was this what my morning was going to be like?

  “Sorry, ladies, I don’t know anything.”

  “That she can tell us,” Mrs. Tunisian said to Mrs. Anderson. “Come on, Rosey, let’s go help Haley unload the pottery.”

  I made a beeline to Frances. “I think I’m going to have to put you and Douglas in charge of today’s senior event. I’ve got about four hours of fudge making I have to get caught up on.”

  “Not to mention hiding from questions,” Frances said in a low tone.

  “I’ll be in the fudge shop. People can see me, and I’ll wave. It might even be a good time for them to watch me make fudge, if they want.” I grabbed my apron and tossed it over my head, tying it around my waist.

  “Before you disappear,” Frances said. “I wanted to let you know that the roofing crew arrived this morning. I let them into your apartment to get to the attic. It was the only way, since you blocked off the utility closet entrance.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I guess I should go check on them.”

  “It might not hurt.”

  I took my apron back off, left it on Frances’s desk, and took the stairs two at a time to the top floor and my apartment. There was a lot of noise up here. The McMurphy must have been built very well because you couldn’t hear the construction in the lobby at all, and it sounded like there were twenty guys up there.

  Then I winced. Twenty guys who had tromped through my apartment. I hope it was clean. The door to my place was wide open. I stepped in and did a quick look around. Whew. No dirty dishes on the counter or unmentionables on the floor. “Hello?”

  There was no answer—only more hammering and the sound of a wood saw. But the wood saw sound wasn’t coming from the attic. I glanced to my left and saw my back door was propped open. Someone was out on my landing with a sawhorse cutting two-by-fours. “Hello?” I said again. I stuck my head out.

  The man measuring and cutting the wood stopped and pulled earplugs out. “Hi, Allie.” That’s when I recognized him. He was Rick Manx, Haley’s husband.

  “Hi, Rick, good to see you. Where’s Elmer?”

  “He’s in the attic,” Rick said and grinned at me. “You’ve got a lot of structural work that needs doing. Nice apartment, though.” He pointed to my open door.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I generally don’t keep the place this wide open.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got ten guys coming and going. No one would try to steal anything with all that going on.”

  “Are you sure? I walked in unnoticed.”

  “It’s safe. We do it all the time.”

  “Except I also have pets who might come out while you have the door open.”

  “If you can’t tell, it’s a little cramped here. There’s nothing going in or out on this side that I don’t see.”

  I glanced down to see a large pile of wood stacked up near the bottom of the stairs. “Who brings the wood up, and who takes it down? Or are you doing all three things?”

  “I haul the wood up, cut it, and lean it against the side of the building.” He pointed to the door that was held open by several fresh-cut two-by-fours. “One of the other guys comes down, grabs what he needs, and hauls it upstairs. Nice and easy. Like I said, no one gets in or out this way without my noticing. What kind of pets do you have?”

  “I have a little white pup, who can be incredibly sly about sneaking away, and I have a calico cat. This is usually her space.” I waved at the landing area around us. “She hasn’t been home in a few days, and with all this going on, I’m not sure she’ll ever come back.”

  “It’ll be fine. Cats are resilient,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “I’m not sure I do,” I frowned.

  “Come on, you like Haley. You should like me.” He patted his chest.

  I felt put on the spot. “It’s not that I don’t like you . . .”

  “Trust me, I’m bonded and insured. Really, ask Elmer. He’s the one who put me to work here.”

  “You’re right,” I said with a nod. “Of course.”

  “See.”

  “Thanks, Rick. By the way Haley’s in the lobby right now setting up for the seniors’ ‘lunch and glaze.’”

  “She was pretty excited when you asked her to do this. She thinks having more people take lessons in the off-season will help supplement what we don’t make.”

  “I’m glad to help.” I turned and ran into Elmer.

  “Allie, good, you’re here,” he said. He waved at Rick to continue his work. “I want to tell you about what we’re doing right now.”

  He took me by the elbow and told me the details of the structural work. “Come on up and you can see what’s going on.” He handed me a hard hat.

  I put the hat on and went up the steps that folded down from the attic opening and up into the attic itself. The front two thirds of the attic had floorboards. Papa Liam had installed them because he came up here to work on patching the roof all the time, and he worried about losing his balance and falling through the ceiling. The attic was only about seven feet high, and since the roof was flat, there wasn’t any peak to it. That meant it would be ideal for a deck, but it also meant that it leaked a lot. I was glad the crew was working on it. When it was done, Elmer had promised that it would never leak again. He followed me up the stairs.

  The attic was filled with men working. They laughed and joked with each other as they put up a giant center beam. Elmer pointed out where they would reinforce beams and joists to support a crowd on my roof.

  “Th
e men are working on the center beam first. It will hold most of the load and help distribute the weight down the sides of the building.”

  I noticed the guys were sweating. It might be crisp outside, but in the attic with so many men, it had grown warm. “Do you want me to bring up something to drink?”

  “No, it’s okay. We’ve got our own water.” He pointed to a case of water bottles sitting on the floor.

  “But it’s warm,” I said.

  “It’s still refreshing. We don’t want to drink too much and have to take bathroom breaks. By the way, is it okay if we use yours?”

  “Sure.” I would have to go tidy it up quickly before heading back down to make fudge. “Okay, things look good. How long do you think it will take you to get this done?”

  “A couple of days,” he said. “Give or take.”

  “Great. Well, I’ve got senior citizens gathering in my lobby and fudge to make. I’ll leave it to you.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, then turned to the guys to shout out an order. I made my way down the stairs into my apartment. The temperature difference was amazing. I bet Rick was happy he was working on the landing. I put the hard hat on the kitchen counter, straightened my bathroom, and went back downstairs.

  The lobby was bustling. It was nearly eleven, and everyone was there. They took their same seats at the tables, and Haley and her helpers were distributing the little pots.

  “Hey, Allie, are you going to work on your pot?” Mr. Worther asked me.

  I grabbed my apron. “I’ll do mine later. I’m behind on making fudge,” I said, hurrying through the crowded lobby.

  “Allie, I heard there was another body found,” Mr. Redfin said. “Were you involved in that?”

  Suddenly the entire lobby went quiet. I felt all eyes on me. I swallowed and turned to the crowd. “I didn’t find the body this time. I think it was Rex—Officer Manning, I mean—who found it.”

  “But you were there, right?” he pressed. “Is it why you haven’t made your fudge yet?”

  “Well, if you want fudge after lunch, you’ll need to let me get in there and make it,” I said, sidestepping the question and sending them a weak smile. “I’ll just go now. Thanks.”

  I went into the glass fudge shop and closed the door with a sigh of relief. I had to be careful. They could still see me, but at least I could pretend like I didn’t hear them in there. But, in fact, I heard every word as they discussed what had happened this morning. I listened as I started gathering ingredients and dumping them in my big copper kettle. Stirring and boiling the basic fudge ingredients was a time-consuming yet calming part of fudge making.

  I placed sugar, cocoa, and butter into the kettle and slowly heated it to boil. The whole thing needed to boil for over seven minutes to reach softball stage. In the meantime, I listened to see if anyone knew about the gold that I had found. No one mentioned gold or hymnals or even a bag. So that part, at least, was a secret.

  Once the fudge hit softball stage, I added vanilla and rum extract. Then I poured it onto the cooling slab. When had I a full crew and was making fudge for demonstrations, I used a larger pot. The one that took two people to muscle over to the table. While making fudge alone, though, I used a smaller kettle— one that a single person could lift to easily maneuver the hot sugar substance.

  After the liquid was poured onto the cooling surface, it needed to be stirred. I took the long-handled metal spatula and lifted and flipped the mixture until it started to thicken. Then I traded the long spatula for the short and began to make fast flips and form the long loaf. This was a simple dark chocolate fudge with no extras. Some of the seniors might be disappointed it didn’t have nuts, but others would rejoice. I didn’t want to exclude anyone who might have an allergy, especially now that I knew Mrs. Addison was allergic. I cut the loaf into the standard one-pound slices, then chopped three of those slices into smaller, more manageable pieces and brought them out to the seniors. They were almost finished glazing their pinch pots and putting them up on the table to be packed up. Some of the seniors had already gotten their lunches and gathered in small groups to eat and gossip.

  I put the tray out on the buffet table with the other desserts.

  “Allie, you should glaze your pot,” Haley said, pointing to my lonely little pot on the table.

  “Would you do it for me?” I asked. “I’ve really got to make more fudge. I’m way behind today. Oh, I just saw your husband, Rick, upstairs as part of the crew working on my roof.”

  “He did mention it,” she said. She picked up my pot, selecting the glaze color without meeting my eye.

  I caught that she didn’t seem too happy that I mentioned him. I stepped closer and leaned toward her to keep the seniors from hearing. “What’s going on? It may be none of my business, but are you two okay?”

  Haley’s face turned bright red. “Was I that obvious?”

  “No,” I reassured her and touched her shoulder. “I’m a bit intuitive, that’s all.” I had expected her to glow at her husband’s name, not turn away. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No,” she said, her shoulders drooping. “It’s just one of those slumps you go through. We’ve been married seven years now, and I think it’s that seven-year itch thing they talk about.”

  Without thinking, I blurted out, “Oh no, is he cheating on you?”

  “What?” She turned to me, her eyes big. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think Rick would do that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Are you married, Allie?”

  “No.”

  “Then you really wouldn’t understand.” She shrugged and started to glaze my pot. “Things were said, things not done, just . . . life.”

  “I’m here if you ever need a friend.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’m making your pot blue. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Blue is great.” She clearly didn’t want to talk about it further, so I left her alone and hurried back to my fudge shop before the seniors could start asking more questions about what happened this morning.

  * * *

  By the time I finished making and packing my last batch of fudge for the day, the seniors had all left. Frances and Douglas were taking down the tables and putting the McMurphy back to its normal state. Haley packed up and left giving me a small wave on her way out.

  I called the delivery guy to come get the fudge for shipping, washed the dishes, and cleaned the shop. I’d never been this late before. It was nearly 2 P.M., and I was famished.

  The doorbells rang, and Trent walked in. He looked like he stepped straight out of GQ magazine. His hair was perfect, his clothes expensive and tailored. Just the sight of him brought up memories of the smell of his cologne. I stepped out of the fudge shop, smelling of sugar and chocolate. My apron was sticky, and the hairnet I wore really completed my look.

  “Allie, I’m glad I caught you. I heard about this morning. Are you okay?” The last part of okay came out with a grunt as Mal ran and slid into him with her exuberant puppy joy. “Well, hello, Mal.” He patted her on the head, and she was in heaven.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “You caught me just finishing up the fudge for the day. I got a bit behind. What brings you here?”

  “Again, the dog is happier to see me than you are. Where’s the hug and kiss and ‘so glad to see you’?”

  “Trent,” I touched his arm. “I am glad to see you. I’m always glad to see you. You look great.”

  “Thanks,” he said and thumbed some sugar off my cheek and licked his thumb. “You look amazing as well.”

  “Right,” I felt the heat of a blush rush up my cheeks.

  “You have to be starving. I bet you didn’t eat breakfast and worked right through lunch.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “It’s obvious you’re a busy woman. Let me take you to lunch. I know you have guys working on your roof. So let’s get out of here and enjoy a nice, leisurely meal.”

  “I have to shower first
,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere smelling like a fudge shop.”

  “I kind of like the smell.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes. Where shall I meet you?”

  “I can wait,” he said. “It’ll be good to visit with Frances and Douglas, and catch up on all the island gossip.”

  “Right. Okay.” I hurried up the stairs and entered my apartment only to realize I had ten or more men going in and out and using my bathroom. Frowning I grabbed clean underwear, a sweater and jeans and went down to a room on the third floor to use the shower. You could hear the noise a bit on the third floor, but I felt safe in room 317. I showered quickly, keeping my hair up. It would still smell of fudge, but I didn’t have time to wash it. I ran some dry shampoo through it and combed it out. Then I pulled it back into a bun at the top of my head, got dressed, and headed out. This quick visit to room 317 told me that I would have to plan for the third-floor remodel during the fall of next year. I sighed. Maintenance and upkeep were the biggest expenses in running a hotel. But the McMurphy was mine, and I had promised my Papa Liam long ago that I would keep it going and see it thrive.

  He had said to me, “Do you know how to make a little money in the hotel business?”

  “No,” I had said. “How?”

  “Spend a lot of money.” He had laughed in that wonderful, Papa Liam way, and it had warmed my heart. I was a bit naïve then. I had no idea how the bills got paid, or how to grow the business. I was still learning. It wasn’t that I was in dire straits. This summer had been the best season in years, and my online sales were flourishing thanks to the reality television show. But I was not rich by any means. I thought of the gold bars in the bag. Someone of lesser character may have kept them, and maybe sold them somewhere in the Lower Peninsula.

  It made me wonder who on the island might feel that way. Could they have stolen the money and then realized how heavy gold was? But why leave it in the woods, and why the hymnals? Was the poor soul Rex found killed over the money? And most importantly, was this tied to the bombing of the senior center or Anthony’s murder?