Oh, Fudge! Read online

  Rex looked at me. “Why did you come here?”

  “I had a meeting with Blake.”

  “I see.” Rex stood. “Did you see anyone else?”

  “No,” I said and shook my head.

  Just then Blake came around the corner. “What’s going on? I saw Rex’s bicycle parked out front. Wait!” She froze in place and put her hands over her mouth. “Barbara?” It came out as a shocked whisper. Then her knees buckled. Rex and I got to her at the same time and each took one of Blake’s elbows and helped her slowly to a bench. “Barbara? Oh, Barbara! What happened?” She glanced from me to Rex to Tori. “Tori?”

  “I found her like this,” Tori said.

  Mal put her front paws on the bench seat and looked from one distressed woman to the other as if unsure how to comfort them both.

  “Is that a trowel? Who would do such a thing?”

  “We’ll find out,” I said, and patted Blake on the shoulder. Blake was an older woman in her mid-fifties. She had light brown hair highlighted with blond streaks that shimmered in the daylight. Her face was round and pretty. She was of average build and could pass for younger. Today she wore a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a white polo shirt with the Butterfly House logo monogrammed on the left breast.

  George Marron and Walt Henderson came in through the vinyl strips that covered the front entrance to the greenhouse with a stretcher between them and their EMT bags in their hands.

  “What do we have?” George asked. George was the lead EMT on Mackinac Island. He had long black hair that was pulled back in a single braid, copper skin, and the high cheekbones of his Iroquois ancestry.

  “Dead body,” Rex said in a low tone. “She’s probably been gone about forty-five minutes to an hour, but we’ll have to wait for the coroner to find out for sure.”

  “Cause of death seems pretty clear,” Walt said. Walt was a tall, thin man with gray hair and a hawk-like nose. He had sharp features and dark brown eyes. His skin had the weathered look of a fisherman or at the least someone who knew their way around the water.

  “Tori Andrews,” George said. “When did you get back on the island?”

  “Hi, George,” Tori said and tried to sit up straight. “Sorry, I can’t.” She grabbed the doggie bag and heaved again.

  George let go of the stretcher and went over to her. I watched as he checked her pulse and eyes. “You’re in shock.” He waved for Walt to bring a blanket over, then slung the blanket around Tori’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” Tori said, and shook her head.

  “There’s blood. I should check,” he said.

  “It’s Barbara’s.” Tori closed her eyes. “I tried to take the spade out of her chest, but I couldn’t. It was making things worse. Oh my, there’s blood everywhere.”

  “Okay, well, let’s take you back to the clinic and get you checked out just in case. Okay?” George looked at Rex who nodded.

  “I’m fine, really,” Tori said.

  “You should go,” I said. “They can give you something to settle your stomach and, besides, the crime scene guy will want your clothes. You’re covered in evidence.”

  “Come on,” George said and helped her to her feet. “Allie and I will take you to the clinic.”

  “What about Barbara?” Tori asked as she glanced at her friend one more time.

  “Walt and Rex will take good care of her,” George said.

  “Come on, Blake,” I said and tugged Blake to her feet. “Come with us. You look a little shocky yourself.”

  “I can’t leave Barbara,” Blake said with tears in her brown eyes.

  “It’s okay. Rex is with her,” I said and locked my arm with hers. “Tori can really use our comfort right now. Right?”

  “It is better if you ladies stick together,” George said as he walked Tori out the door.

  Shane passed us on the way out. He wore his navy blue CSI jacket and ball cap. His horn-rimmed glasses emphasized his concerned eyes. “I hear you’ve found another crime scene.”

  “Not me this time,” I said. “My cousin Tori did.” I pointed toward George and Tori.

  “Tori Andrews?” Shane said, and his face burst into a wide smile. “When did you get back on the island?”

  “Yesterday,” I muttered. “She just didn’t tell anyone.”

  “I had meetings,” Tori said.

  I frowned as Shane made his way into the building. “Gee, Tori, everyone seems to know you.”

  “They should. I went to school with all of them up until senior year when Dad moved us out to California. Unlike you, Allie,” Tori said, “I’m not a fudgie.”

  I bit back a retort. After all, Tori had just found a woman lying dead in a pool of her own blood. That kind of shock did things to people. I looked at George who simply shrugged at me.

  “Poor Barbara,” Blake said, bringing my attention back to the older woman who clung to me. “Poor Barbara. She didn’t deserve to die.”

  “No,” I said and patted Blake’s arm. “She didn’t.”

  “Who could have done such a thing?” Blake asked. “Barbara wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  “I didn’t know Barbara,” I said, “but no one deserves to die like that.”

  “I’ve got to put up a sign,” Blake said and pulled away as if to go back into the crime scene. “I’ve got to let everyone know that the Butterfly House is closed. I’ve got to let Barbara’s family know.”

  “The police will take care of her family,” I said and gently guided Blake back toward the ambulance. “You need to take care of yourself. Trust me, you’ve had a shock. You should go to the clinic and get checked out.”

  George helped Tori into the ambulance—one of the few motorized vehicles allowed on the island for safety purposes.

  “Let George help you,” I said. Mal nudged Blake as if to let her know that she was not alone in her sorrow.

  “Thank you, it’s so upsetting,” Blake said as I helped her up in the ambulance. Mal jumped up with them.

  “Is it okay if Mal goes with you?” I asked George.

  “She should be quarantined until any evidence she’s carrying is collected,” he said and slipped bags on her paws. “Are you staying?”

  “I should give my statement and see if there is anything that Rex or Shane needs,” I said.

  George nodded and closed the doors on the ambulance. “We’ll take good care of these girls. You can pick Mal up after Shane gets his evidence.”

  “Thanks.” I waved them off as he slowly drove away. I turned and looked at the trail to the Butterfly House entrance. What a terrible thing to happen in such a fun and beautiful place. First thing I should do was to put a note on the door. The next was to go back inside and see what I could do to help figure out who would do such a terrible thing. Last was to figure out why my cousin Tori didn’t feel that she could stay with me. Was she hiding something? Was it something that had to do with the dead woman on the floor of the Butterfly House?

  California Fudge

  Ingredients

  1½ cups sugar

  ¾ cup sour cream

  ½ cup of butter

  12 oz. white chocolate chips

  7 oz. marshmallow crème

  ¾ cup walnuts

  ¾ cup chopped dried apricots (or any

  candied fruit)

  Directions

  In a large heavy saucepan, bring sugar, sour cream, and butter to full rolling boil. Stir constantly for 7-10 minutes until it reaches softball stage or 234 degrees F on a candy thermometer. (Make sure thermometer doesn’t touch the bottom or side of the pan.)

  Remove from heat. Add white chocolate chips and stir until melted. Add remaining ingredients and stir until blended. Pour into a buttered 8-inch square pan and cool completely. Cut into 1-inch squares. Makes roughly 2½ pounds of fudge. Enjoy!

  Chapter 2

  “It’s so weird watching George bag Mal’s paws,” I said to Shane. “Is that necessary? She only touched Tori.”

  “It’s al
l evidence,” Shane said. “I’ll process Mal first once I finish taking photos. That way you can take her home.”

  “She’s going to chew those bags off,” I said. I imagined Mal walking stiffly, doing her best to shake off the bags as if they were snow booties. “I hope George is prepared.”

  “I’m sure he can handle Mal. They like each other.”

  “At least this time you don’t need my clothes.”

  “We will need Tori’s clothes,” Shane said. “Can you go get her a new set?”

  “No,” I said and frowned. “She isn’t staying with me.”

  “Really?” He looked surprised.

  “Not because I didn’t want her, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I said and hugged my waist. “I didn’t even know she was coming into town.”

  “She must be staying at her father’s old place,” Shane said. “You really should take her a change of clothes.”

  “I suppose,” I said. “Can I take Mal?”

  “No, she needs to stay. One I’ve processed her I’ll give her to Brent. He’ll watch her until you get back with the clothes. Do you remember where your uncle’s place is?”

  “Of course I remember,” I said.

  “They keep a spare key under the third rock from the door.”

  “How do you know that?” I crossed my arms. I didn’t know that. In fact, I barely remembered where my uncle’s cabin was. I planned on texting my mom for the address.

  “Everyone who went to school with Tori knows where the key is,” Shane said with a shrug. “It was part of sneaking her back into bed if she partied too much.”

  “Tori was a partier?”

  “Island living,” Shane said with a shrug. “Can you get her some clothes?”

  “Sure.” A quick text to my mom and I got the address to my uncle’s cabin. It was near the airport. I biked over and let myself in with the key that was right where Shane said it would be.

  The cabin was small: two bedrooms, one bath, with an open living room, and kitchen. Tori hadn’t been there long. There were still coverings on most of the furniture. The first bedroom door was open, her suitcase spread out on the bed. She hadn’t even unpacked before heading out this morning. I grabbed her a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt because it was a warm day. I headed out and then thought again and went back for a pair of flip-flops. They might want her shoes if she had any blood on them.

  The thought had me checking my shoes. Today I wore white tennis shoes. Luckily they were still unmarked, except for some dust from my travels. I found an old tote in the kitchen and put her things inside it. Then I went out, locking the door behind me, careful to return the key to the same place.

  I shook my head as I got on my bike. How could you feel safe knowing that everyone on the island knew where you kept your key? Why lock the door at all?

  As I biked down the hill, I passed Mrs. Howard. “Good morning, Allie,” she said and waved. “I heard that you found another dead body this morning.”

  That was fast. “It was actually my cousin Victoria who found her,” I said as I slowed to a stop. “I’m taking Tori a fresh set of clothes now.”

  “Oh, yes, I saw her come in last night from the boats,” Mrs. Howard said. “Tell her I said hello and I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “That she found a dead body. I can’t imagine that was a nice welcome back to the island. Where is she living now? Is she moving back to the island?”

  “I thought she was living in California,” I said. “But she’s working on a fund-raiser for the Butterfly House. I don’t know if that means she’s moved back or not.”

  “I don’t understand.” Mrs. Howard drew her gray eyebrows together. She wore a denim shirt over a white tee and denim cropped pants. “I thought you two were family. Don’t you talk?”

  “We talk,” I said. “But not since Papa died.”

  “Oh, yes, I can see why that would happen.”

  “What would happen?”

  “A split in the family since you inherited the hotel and she didn’t.”

  “She lives in California,” I said. “I didn’t think she wanted to inherit the hotel.”

  Mrs. Howard shrugged and slipped on her gardening gloves. “You never know what you want until it’s taken away from you.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” I said. “But all she has to do is talk with me. There is always room at the hotel for family.”

  “All that’s good and true, but you might need to tell her.”

  “I didn’t think I had to,” I said and frowned. “Why is everyone on Tori’s side with this?”

  “We watched her grow up here,” Mrs. Howard said with a shrug. “She is one of us.”

  “But she left the island,” I pointed out.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Howard said. “What matters is that, unlike you, she’s not a fudgie.”

  “I’m not a fudgie,” I said. Fudgie was the name the islanders gave to the many tourists who came to sample the fudge. Mackinac Island was known as the world capital of fudge. It wasn’t an insult to be called a fudgie, but I felt as if being labeled that meant I was not quite accepted in the island society. “I spent almost every summer here.”

  “So do a lot of fudgies,” Mrs. Howard said. “We were all surprised when you got the McMurphy and not Victoria.”

  “Why am I just now finding this out?”

  “Maybe because you never asked. Now, tell me more about the dead person. Was the scene gruesome?”

  I made a face. “I’ve got to go take these clothes to Victoria. I’m sure the details of what happened this morning will be in the paper tonight. Have a nice day.” I left Mrs. Howard to her gardening and hurried back to the clinic.

  “I brought you clothes,” I said to Victoria as I entered the curtained area in the clinic where she sat wearing a hospital gown.

  “Thanks,” Tori said with a frown. “How did you know where to get them?”

  “Shane told me,” I said. “How do you feel safe knowing that so many people know about your spare key?”

  “Only the people from the island know,” she said with a shrug and took the tote from me. “No one here would hurt me.”

  “Well, someone hurt Barbara,” I said.

  “True.” She stopped and shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the scene out of my mind.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Have you been processed yet?” I had discovered enough bodies to know that they collected your clothes and then evidence from under your fingernails as well as taking photos of you when they processed you.

  “Shane just left,” she said. “They told me I could take a shower if I wanted, but I’d rather just go home and take one there.” She dug out her clothes. “Thanks for thinking of the shoes.”

  “You’re welcome. I understand they usually take them as well to check for evidence.”

  Tori tugged the shorts on under her hospital gown. Then pulled off the gown and slipped on the T-shirt.

  “You really should stay with me at the McMurphy. There’s room, you know.”

  She grabbed her flip-flops and put them on. “I’m fine at Dad’s place. I’m not staying but a couple of weeks.”

  I searched for something to fill the silence. “At least come for dinner. You can meet the new staff. I understand you and Barbara were working on a fund-raiser for the Butterfly House improvements. You can meet my friend Jenn. She’s a professional event planner.”

  Victoria looked up at me. “I’m perfectly capable of planning a fund-raiser.” She stood. “Listen, Allie, you don’t have to pretend we’re friends. Just go about your day. I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine,” I said and crossed my arms over my chest. “You found Barbara dead.”

  “Yes, well, I’m sure I’ll get over it. Just stay out of it. Okay?” She opened the curtain. “Go back to making fudge. I’m going to see if I can be discharged. Thanks for the clothes.” She dismissed me and walked away.

  “Fine,” I mutt
ered, “but you can’t say I didn’t try.”

  Chapter 3

  “Barbara Smart,” Frances, the hotel manager and longtime friend of my grandparents, said. She sat on the tall stool behind the reception desk of the McMurphy. Frances was a retired teacher in her seventies. She looked ageless with her brown bobbed hair, colorful reading glasses, and minimal makeup. Today she wore a peasant blouse and long flowered skirt. “She was an interesting person.”

  “In what way?” I asked. I held Mal. I had picked her up from the police station and, once home, Frances had given her a bath.

  “She was notorious for flirting with all the men. At one point in her twenties she confided in me that she was going to marry Richard Smart for his money. Richard was thirty years older than Barbara, you see. We all wondered what she was doing with the old guy.” Frances shook her head. The new engagement ring on her left hand sparkled under the lights as she made notes for the day’s staff meeting.

  “It’s possible to love someone older than you,” I pointed out.

  “True,” Frances said. “But Barbara was a beauty and ruthless. She married Richard and within ten years he was dead and she was free to live out her days on his fortune. She confided in me that it was her grand plan all along.”

  I frowned. “What did her husband die of?”

  “Cancer, poor fellow. He went fast. At least he was happy.”

  “What else do you know about Barbara?” I asked and leaned against the reception desk. The Historic McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop had been in my family for over one hundred years. I recently remodeled it to take it back to its original Victorian splendor. Except for the addition of glass walls around the fudge shop. When we adopted a stray cat we named Carmella or Mella for short, I had closed off the fudge shop. I wanted to give Mella the chance to roam without getting underfoot and possibly burned by hot fudge or melted sugar.

  The lobby of the McMurphy was large, with the fudge shop on the right and a fireplace on the left with a comfy sofa and chairs for seating. I had free Wi-Fi installed to encourage people to come and sit in the lobby and possibly buy more fudge. Toward the rear of the lobby was the bar-height reception desk that was Frances’s domain. Behind her were small cubbies with slots for mail or notes for each of the rooms. Across from her was more seating and the back of the room housed the elevator. The elevator was the old-fashioned cage kind.