Fudge Bites Page 18

  I drew my eyebrows together. “Are you telling me to go?”

  He reached behind my head, gently drew my forehead to his lips, and kissed it. “I’m telling you to do what is best for you. I care about you, Allie. You’ve been working so hard to fit in, but you don’t need to work so hard. You do fit in. I’m not the only one who has full confidence in you.” He studied me, his hands on my shoulder. “I wish you had as much confidence in yourself as we all do. Every single person on this island believes in you. That’s a thing very, very few people earn in a season. I’m letting you know that no matter what you decide, I’m here for you. And that’s an always thing.” He put his hat on his head and stepped out into the night.

  I watched him walk down the stairs and down the alley. He didn’t look back. I think it made his words even more powerful. I went inside with Mal, not knowing what I was going to do after Christmas. But maybe right now that was okay, after all.

  Chapter 19

  Sunday morning, and still no Mella. It had been over a week since she found Anthony Vanderbilt’s body. At least today there was no construction activity. I finished my fudge for shipping in silence. The plane left every day, even Sundays. I finished in time to take a shower and get dressed for church. I left Mal in her crate with a treat and a toy and went to St. John’s 10 A.M. service.

  Pastor Henry gave a sermon on gratitude, specifically for everyone being protected from the explosion. I noticed there were several of the seniors at the service, but the church was far from full. Most of the island residents went to St. Anne’s or Trinity, I think mostly out of tradition. Plus, the service at St. John’s tended to drone on a bit, I thought. The music was lovely, though. The choir was small—twelve people—but mighty. I could see someone young like Anthony working with them. Right now, Haley led the choir. She looked natural up there. If Mrs. Flores hadn’t told me that Anthony was the director, I wouldn’t have known Haley was new to the position. She had a beautiful voice. It floated above the rest and lifted the harmonies.

  After the service, I stopped and shook Pastor Henry’s hand.

  “Thank you for helping the seniors the other day, Allie,” he said. “I’m so glad you came to services today. You should attend more often.”

  “I usually go to St. Anne’s. It’s where my grandparents went. But Mrs. Flores told me that Anthony Vanderbilt used to lead your choir. Is that true?”

  “Ah, yes, Anthony did. In fact, when they finally release his body, his mother has a service planned here. Haley has had the choir practicing the most beautiful songs for his send-off. The whole church will be filled with tears.” His eyes grew damp. “I miss the boy. I can’t understand why anyone would want to hurt him. But I’m certain he is with the Lord now—hopefully, looking down on us and helping to protect us from further harm.”

  “Mrs. James told me that she had to have her house looked at for structural damage because of the blast from the senior center. The church is even closer.” I glanced at the building. “Is it okay? Was it damaged?”

  Pastor Henry frowned. “It was. I didn’t mention it in today’s service because I wanted the service to be about the joy God brought us by ensuring everyone was safely out of the senior center and protected by the church. But the church itself was pushed nearly two inches off of its foundation. We have a church council meeting this week to address what happens next.”

  “It sounds like it’s going to be an expensive repair.”

  “We have insurance,” he said. “But we’re not sure it covers acts of terrorism.”

  “Is that what they’re calling the bombing?”

  “Isn’t that what it was?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I guess it was.”

  “Well, in any case, our annual garage sale is scheduled for the upcoming weekend, but I’m pretty certain it won’t cover what we need to repair the building.”

  I looked at the crowd of parishioners. It was small, but some of the families were wealthy. “Maybe you can find a patron.”

  “It’s my sincerest hope.”

  I shook his hand and moved down the front stairs to leave. It was the warmest day so far this month, and I took my jacket off. The sleeves of my dress ballooned in the breeze.

  “Allie,” Haley called to me.

  I waited for her to catch up. “Nice service. I didn’t know you could sing.”

  “At one time, I thought I would be a singer-songwriter,” she said as we walked down the street toward the McMurphy. “It’s actually how I met Rick. I was singing in a local bar. He asked me out, and we were both immediately smitten. Once I got married, I settled down and no longer toured.” She shrugged. “I took up pottery and being a wife.”

  “And now?”

  “I told Rick about Josh last night,” she said, blowing out a long breath. “It was time.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m a cheater. Josh and I—well, we just sort of fell into things. I was unhappy, he was unhappy, and together we found a sort of happiness. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have that spark again.”

  “I’m glad you told the truth. How did Rick take it?”

  She winced. “He threw some things and stormed out. I haven’t seen him since. My marriage is over. I guess it’s been over for some time, really.”

  “What about Josh?”

  “He broke up with me over a text,” she lifted her phone to illustrate. “I guess I deserve that. He said he was going to stay with Becky. He wants to make it work, especially with the baby on the way.”

  “Didn’t you feel the least bit guilty having an affair with a man whose wife was pregnant?”

  She blushed hard. “I didn’t know Becky when this started, and Josh didn’t tell me. I found out last week when I saw her at the art fair. I confronted Josh, and he told me it didn’t matter to him. But I guess it really did.”

  “He’s going to be a father really soon. Maybe Becky moving off the island to prepare for delivery made it more real.”

  “Maybe,” she said, and sighed. “Josh told me that you and Liz went to his house because you thought that Anthony’s killer might have killed him by mistake?”

  “Yes. Anthony and Josh were wearing very similar zombie costumes. It’s why the cops called your house last night. You see, once I found out you were having an affair with Josh, it made your husband a prime suspect in Anthony’s murder.”

  “Rick wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  “You never know what a man would do for love.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Rick wouldn’t hurt Anthony. They were good friends. Besides, the cops called after I told Rick. I told them I didn’t know where he was, but it was probably a good bet he was at the Nag’s Head. Rick drinks when he’s hurt.”

  “So Rick knew about your affair before he talked to Officer Pulaski last night?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said. “After you discovered Josh and me in the alley, I knew I had to tell Rick right away. If you knew, others would know soon.”

  “Are you saying I’m a gossip?” I felt insulted. “The only person I told was Rex, and that’s only because your affair gave Rick a motive for Anthony’s murder.”

  “No, no,” she said, putting her hand on my arm. “No, I certainly didn’t think you would gossip about what you saw. I mean, I asked you not to, and I think you’re a good person. But I knew that if you knew, then others probably did as well. You seeing us was my wake-up call.”

  “I’m glad you told Rick,” I said. “It would have been hard to see him tomorrow when he comes over to work on my roof. I hate lying to people. And you were right. Others do know. I went to see Mrs. Flores because someone said she might know where my cat was. She didn’t know about Mella, but she certainly knew about you and Josh.”

  Haley had the grace to blush. “Mrs. Flores is the old lady who lives near the alley where you found us?”

  “Yes.”

  “She rarely gets out. In fact, Pastor Henry brings her gro
ceries and takes care of her yardwork and her house.”

  “Pastor Henry?”

  “He said it was his mission to see that no one in need goes without. Plus, he’s young and handsome. The old ladies like it when he comes over and does handyman jobs for them.”

  “Huh.” I glanced back, but the church was out of view by now. I hadn’t gotten the impression that Pastor Henry was particularly young or handsome, or even a handyman type. Strange. I was usually a good judge of those things.

  “I’ve got to go home now,” she said. “I’ve got some pots coming out of the kiln today. They need to be cooled and inspected before they’re packed and shipped tomorrow. And Allie . . . I hope we’re still friends.”

  “Of course,” I said. I gave her a quick hug. “The seniors are coming back to the McMurphy for lunch on Tuesday. You can bring the pinch pots and hand them out then, if you want.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sure it’s already all over the island that I’ve cheated on Rick. I couldn’t face them.”

  “I can come get the pinch pots and distribute them for you, if that’s better.”

  “Would you do that for me?” She looked relieved. “That would be great. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I really can’t face anyone right now. It was so hard to come to church this morning, but I’d had a long talk with Pastor Henry and he encouraged me to be a part of the service. He said forgiveness starts with telling the truth and owning your foibles.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think he’s right.”

  “I will come back to the seniors. I just need a little time first.”

  “I understand. I’ll come by your place tomorrow and pick up the pots.”

  “You’re a doll. Thanks.” She turned and walked in the opposite direction from me toward her house.

  I wondered where Rick was staying. What he thought about Haley and Josh. Mostly, I felt sorry for Becky. Relationships were hard. You could only do your best and trust your partner to do the same.

  * * *

  Frances and Douglas had this Sunday off since we didn’t have any guests, so it was just Mal and me knocking around in the McMurphy. I admired the work on the second floor and went from room to room, putting together a list of things that I would need to finish the redecorating once furniture was put back in and the new mattresses were on the beds. Right now, my third floor looked like a warehouse. If Mella were here, she’d have had a heyday playing in all the boxes and crevices made by the stacked furniture.

  My heart squeezed at losing Mella. I decided to print out pictures and post flyers. It was a small island—someone had to know something.

  I took my stack of flyers and a staple gun, and Mal and I went out to start posting them. After posting one on each corner, I went into Doud’s. Mary Emry was behind the counter, flipping through a weekly gossip tabloid. “Hi, Mary. You haven’t happened to see my calico cat, Mella, have you?”

  “Nope.” She didn’t even look up.

  “Can I put a flyer in the window?”

  “Can’t promise it’ll stay.”

  “Okay, well, a few hours are good enough.” I taped the flyer to the glass and left. Mary wasn’t much of a talker anyway. I crossed the street and entered the Nag’s Head Bar and Grill.

  “Allie!” Liz waved me down almost immediately after I walked in. She was at a table with Rick Manx. She had her phone out as if recording something. “What are you doing here? Hi, Mal.” She patted my dog.

  “I’m putting up signs to see if anyone has seen Mella.”

  “Who’s Mella?” Rick asked.

  “My cat,” I replied, handing him a flyer.

  “Oh, this is the cat you were worried that I would let out when I was cutting wood.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Have you seen her? I’m posting a small reward.”

  “No, but I’ll keep an eye out,” Rick said. His eyes were bloodshot, and he didn’t look happy as he folded the flyer and put it in his pocket.

  “Have a seat,” Liz said, patting the seat next to her.

  “I wish I could, but Mal and I are on a mission to distribute flyers to all four corners of the island. Aren’t we, Mal?” She wagged her stumpy tail.

  “Allie, were you the one who called the cops on me?” Rick asked flat out.

  “I’m sorry?” I hedged. I could feel heat rising in my cheeks.

  “Someone told the police that Rick’s wife Haley was having an affair with Josh Spalding.”

  “Why would they do that?” Okay, so I was a bad liar. They both gave me the side-eye. I sighed and sat down. “Look, I’m trying to figure out who killed Anthony. It’s eating Maggs alive. And Josh Spalding and Anthony were wearing very similar zombie costumes.”

  “And you think I might have flown off in a jealous rage and killed Anthony by mistake,” he said in a gravelly tone. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Well, the answer is no, I didn’t kill anyone. I would never kill anyone. I didn’t even know until Haley told me yesterday.” He looked straight into my eyes. “Our marriage has had its ups and downs. I haven’t exactly been a saint, either.”

  “Haley told me you threw things and stormed out.”

  “Heck, yeah, I did. She asked for a divorce.”

  “I see.”

  “Unless you’ve been married, you have no idea,” he said. He looked at Liz and me. “Have either of you ever been married?”

  “No.”

  “For a short time,” Liz replied. That surprised me, and I looked at her sharply. She shrugged. “I was nineteen. It lasted three months. I’m not sure it counts.”

  “You are going to give me details later,” I said.

  “Beside the point, ladies,” Rick said. He waved at the bartender for another beer. “Neither of you have any idea what it’s like to be in a relationship for a long time.”

  “My mom said it’s hard, but worth it.”

  “Worth it if you can work things out,” Rick said as the bartender put a fresh glass of foamy tap beer in front of him and took away his empty one. “We could never quite get into the habit of working things out.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Do you want a drink?” the bartender asked me.

  “No. Actually, I just came in to see if I could put this flyer up in your window.”

  “Sure,” she said. “Good luck finding your cat. She can’t have gone far. It’s not likely she swam off the island.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said. I stood up. “Liz, call me later?”

  “Sure thing,” she said.

  I taped the poster up in the window and went to the next shop. It took me nearly an hour to cover the entire island with flyers. It seemed no one had seen my Mella, but they would let me know if they did.

  Mal and I went home, exhausted from the search. Trent was waiting by the door. “Closed?” he asked, rattling the locked door.

  “Yeah, we didn’t have any guests booked, so I gave Frances and Douglas the day off.” I unlocked the front door, and Trent held it open for Mal and me to walk through. The McMurphy always smelled like fudge, coffee, and that faint scent of age that comes from years of wood being waxed or oiled to keep its beauty.

  “I saw you put up some flyers for Mella,” he said. “She really can’t have gone far.”

  I tucked the hotel keycard into my purse and took Mal off her leash. “I know—everyone keeps telling me that. It’s just weird that I can’t find her.”

  “Someone has to have her.” He put his hands in the front pockets of his Dockers.

  “I’m starting to worry that whoever killed Anthony might have her.”

  “Why?” He tilted his head.

  “Mella was the one who found Anthony in the alley that night. If she hadn’t found him and had blood on her feet, I wouldn’t have gone looking, and Sophie might not have stumbled on Anthony.”

  “I doubt a killer would hurt a cat for having bloody paws. It’s not like the cat can tell you who the killer is.”

  “May
be not,” I said, walking upstairs. Trent studied the new floors and paint.

  “Great job on the remodel. Who did the work?”

  “Elmer Faber is my foreman. He also has a crew working on my roof. We’re putting in a rooftop deck.”

  “Smart.”

  “It was Jenn’s idea. The views from up there are awesome.”

  “Mind if I look?”

  “No, not at all. But you have to take the stairs from the outside. I don’t have any on the inside yet.”

  We passed the packed third floor and entered the hall that led to my office and apartment. “I assume you’re going to put the stairway in this hall?”

  “Not the stairs,” I said. “A doorway to a landing, and then outside stairs from there to the roof. I had this fun idea.”

  “What?”

  “We’re going to make it a secret doorway. The rooftop will seem very exclusive. Only those who know will have access.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Well, there won’t be any access to the lower floors on this side due to the building attached next door, so the stairway will have be narrow. And the historical society won’t let us change the exterior of the house that is in sight of Main Street, so we got a permit to create an enclosed, winding staircase in the narrow space.”

  “Sounds like a fire hazard.”

  “It’s not. There’s also access from the stairs at the back of my apartment. We can safely move fifty or so people off the top of the roof very quickly should anything happen. And that’s beside the point.” I felt my enthusiasm rise. “To access the stairs from this hallway, we’re going to install an old-fashioned phone booth. A person goes inside and dials the number seven, and then the back of the booth opens up to let them onto the roof. Isn’t that cool?”

  “So before you had a secret tunnel in your basement for bootlegging, and now you’ll have a secret phone booth for the roof?”

  “It’s something people will remember.” I tilted my head. “Come on. It’s kind of cool, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Who thought of it?”

  “Me,” I said. “But truthfully? I read an article about a bar in New York that did something like that for people to gain access. I thought that would be fun for the fudgies.”