Fudge Bites Page 2

  “We’re going to dress up Allie’s dog, Mal,” Liz said, rubbing her hands together. “With any luck, the red frosting will stain the dress, and the dog will lick it and get red on her face.”

  “Disgusting,” Mary said.

  “But effective,” I said. “Are you going to be in the Walking Red zombie walk?”

  “Sure,” Mary said. “It’s for a good cause.”

  I paid for the purchases, and we walked out of Doud’s and into the now crowded street. “I didn’t know there would be so many people here,” I said.

  “It’s the cause,” Liz said. “People care. My mom died of a heart attack.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” I said.

  Liz blinked back tears, looking away. “This crowd is crazy, let’s go around and through the alley.” We turned down the side street. It, too, was filling up with zombies and humans alike. People not in costume carried blankets and came out to watch all the craziness.

  When we were a half a block away from the McMurphy, in the alley just behind the Old Tyme Photo Shop, I noticed the stray calico who I had named Carmella walking ahead of us.

  Carmella had adopted me and the McMurphy when I first came to Mackinac. She wasn’t a fan of Mal, who was a bit rambunctious at only six months old, but Mella escaped puppy shenanigans by jumping up on the countertops. My cat was an indoor/outdoor cat. She loved to wander the back alleyways for an hour or so and then return to the McMurphy to receive treats from Frances and attention from the guests.

  “Mella,” I called to her. “Here, kitty.” She walked over to me, and I leaned down to pick her up.

  “Wow, looks like you already have a costume started for Mella,” Liz said.

  I looked at the cat. Her paws were wet and covered with a distinct brownish-red color. Her face had remnants of the same damp substance. “What did you get into?” I asked her. She wiped her feet on my sweater. “Is that blood?”

  “Eww,” Liz said. “She’s coated with it.”

  I glanced around. It was too dark to see anything in the half-lit alley. We got closer to the McMurphy, and the sensor lights I had installed came on. “It certainly looks like blood,” I said, holding her up to the light. “Are you okay, Mella?” I asked. “Did you get hurt?”

  She meowed at me as if indignant that I might think she wouldn’t win in a fight.

  “I don’t see any obvious puncture wounds,” Liz said.

  “That means someone else is hurt,” I said. I glanced back down the alley. It was darker now that the lights were on behind the McMurphy. “Let’s take her in and have Frances give her a bath and make sure she’s not hurt.”

  “And while she’s doing that?” Liz asked.

  “I’ll get a flashlight, and we can check the alley. Whatever Mella got into has lost a lot of blood. We need to see if we can help it.”

  Just then, there was a scream from the dark alley. I hugged Mella tight and turned toward the sound.

  “Oh, my gosh!” It was Sophie. “Thank goodness you’re out here.”

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  “No,” Sophie said with trembling hands. She was dressed as a biker babe zombie. “I think I found a dead man.”

  “Where?” Liz asked, pulling out her phone.

  “Just over there,” Sophie said and pointed toward the dark corner of the building that backed up against the alley. We all hurried over to where she pointed. “I was coming around this way to avoid the crowd when I stumbled over something. I got out my flashlight, and there was a crumpled body.”

  “Are you sure it’s real?” Liz asked.

  “There’s a lot of blood, and paw tracks from Mella,” I said, looking at the ground as I walked. “I don’t think this is fake.”

  “But look at us, we’re dressed like the walking dead.” Liz waved a hand over her costumed self. “What if it’s fake blood?”

  Sophie paused. “Do you think it might be a decoration? It’s pretty gruesome.”

  We stopped in front of a dark lump. Liz and I pulled out our phones and shone the flashlight apps to get a better look. The lump looked like a man. The head was obscured by a large hat. He wore an old suit coat with patched elbows, and one of his shoes was off. His limbs were at odd angles. A large, dark pool seeped from under his jacket. There were kitty tracks in the blood. It looked like this was the mess Mella had found, after all.

  “He looks real,” I said. I hunkered down.

  “Are you going to touch him?” Sophie asked.

  “Should you touch him?” Liz asked.

  “It’s the only way to know if he’s real,” I said. “It’s what they tell you to do with first aid.” I touched his shoulder and gently shook it. “Sir, are you okay?”

  His head rolled to the side. His jaw opened, and his tongue flopped out. I jerked back. Mella squirmed in my arms. I held her tight and put my fingers on his neck to feel for a pulse. The body was stone cold, and the blood was dark.

  “He’s either dead, or he’s a very good Halloween effect.” I stood and looked at my friend. “But . . . if he is a Halloween effect, why hide him in a back alley?”

  “I’m calling 9-1-1,” Liz said.

  I petted a squirming Mella, who seemed only to want one thing—to leave. The blood she had gotten on her was currently getting all over me, but I didn’t want to let her down. She might make things worse. Especially if this poor man was dead—it was clear she had already walked through the crime scene.

  “Hi, Charlene, it’s Liz McElroy,” Liz said. “I’m in the alley behind Doud’s and the McMurphy, and I think we might have stumbled across a crime scene.” She paused. “Yes, I know that the whole island is full of the walking dead right now, but we think this one might actually be dead.”

  Sophie shivered and hugged herself. I rubbed her arm to comfort her.

  “Who is ‘we’?” Liz said. “Sophie and Allie and me.” She looked at us. “Yes, Allie McMurphy.”

  “I’ll call Rex,” I said.

  “No, don’t call him,” Liz said. “Charlene is contacting him now. She started calling him the minute I said I was with you.” Liz covered the phone with her hand. “She said you’re the Grim Reaper.”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes,” I said and rolled my eyes. “I am not the Grim Reaper. Besides, Sophie found him.”

  “I think Mella found him first.” Liz pointed to the dirty paws of my cat. Mella had given up on her struggle and sort of hung there, indignant.

  I sighed. “My pets seem to have good noses for dead men.”

  After what felt like an hour but was more like ten minutes, Rex and Officer Charles Brown walked into the alley carrying flashlights. They were an imposing pair. Officer Brown was tall and square with green eyes, while Rex was about five foot ten with an action-hero physique and a shaved head that was currently covered by a hat. I knew from memory that he had killer blue eyes ringed with black lashes, and that his kiss could curl my toes.

  I let out a breath. It was somehow reassuring to have them there.

  “Charlene said you had a situation,” Rex said.

  Liz shone her flashlight on the dead man. “Sophie found him.”

  Rex squatted down to feel for a pulse.

  “We thought maybe it was fake,” I said. “But I followed first aid protocol and shook his shoulder and called out. Then I felt his neck, and he was cold as ice.”

  “What’s up with the cat?” Office Brown asked.

  “I think she walked through the blood,” I said, waving her dirty paw. “I didn’t see her do it.”

  “There are tracks through the blood,” Rex said.

  “Is he dead?” Sophie asked, biting her nails. There was nervous hope in her voice. “It’s probably just a fake, right? You know, put here to scare people. For the zombie walk.”

  Rex frowned and stood. “I think some of this is makeup, but this man is clearly dead. I’ll call Shane out here.” He reached for the walkie-talkie on his shoulder.

  “Let’s step away
from the scene,” Officer Brown. He motioned us across the alley.

  The door on the building behind us opened, and Margaret Vanderbilt stepped out. Maggs was Frances’s best friend, and she worked at the drugstore next to Doud’s. Maggs had long, curly gray hair, incredible skin, and wide blue eyes. “What’s going on?” She asked, looking at us in our zombie makeup. “Are you going to the Walking Red walk? It’s starting in a few minutes.”

  “We were,” Liz said, “but something more important has come up.”

  “What’s more fun than raising money for heart disease awareness?” Maggs joked, then turned serious when she saw Officer Brown and Rex. “This doesn’t look good.” Her gaze went to the crumpled heap on the ground at Rex’s feet. “Anthony?”

  “Who?” Officer Brown asked.

  Maggs pushed through us, but Charles held her. “Anthony? Anthony!”

  “Who’s Anthony?” I asked.

  “My son,” she said and covered her mouth with her hands. “Please, tell me—tell me it’s not Anthony.”

  Rex stepped across to hide the body from her. Thankfully, the man’s hat still covered his face. “We don’t know who it is, Maggs.” He touched her trembling arm. “Why do you think it’s Anthony?”

  “He was supposed to meet me here. He was going to dress as a business zombie. I think that’s his suit coat. The one with the patches.” She started trembling hard.

  “You need to sit down,” I said, handing Mella to Liz. I took Maggs by the shoulder and helped her sit on the edge of the brick flower bed beside the door. “Does anyone have a blanket?”

  The ambulance rolled up to the mouth of the alley. Ambulances were the only type of motor vehicle allowed on the island. EMT George Marron came out. He was a handsome man with high cheekbones and coppery skin. He wore his hair long in a traditional braid down his back. “Charlene called,” he said.

  “We need a blanket,” I said. “I think Maggs might be in shock.”

  “Got it,” George said. He reached into the ambulance, grabbed a blanket, and came over to tuck it around Maggs’s shoulders. “Are you hurt?” He asked her quietly and calmly.

  “No,” she said, gasping for air, “No, I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?” He studied her with his dark eyes. His handsome face and copper skin gleamed in the light over the door to the drugstore.

  “It can’t be Anthony,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, tell me it’s not Anthony.”

  George looked up at Rex. I noticed Rex shake his head subtly and my stomach tumbled. From the look on his face, he was sure it was Anthony. I sat down and put my arm around Maggs’s shoulders. She rested her head on my shoulder. I looked at Sophie. “Call Frances.”

  Sophie nodded. She turned her back to us and got out her phone.

  “We’re going to find out what happened,” I said. Scooching in closer and closing ranks, Liz and I stayed with Maggs, chatting aimlessly until Frances arrived.

  Rex cleared his throat. “Margaret, Frances is here. Go with her, please. You shouldn’t be here, and we need to work this crime scene and find out what exactly happened.”

  I helped Maggs to her feet as Frances came over. “I’ve got her,” Frances said. She put her arm around Maggs, carefully and quietly speaking to her as they walked the short distance to the McMurphy.

  Shane walked into the alley with his crime scene investigator jacket on and his kit in hand. In addition to being the crime scene tech, Shane was Jenn’s boyfriend, so I had become friends with him over the past few months. “What do we have?” he asked.

  “A crime scene less than a block away from a crowd of zombies,” Rex said grimly. “What’s worse, the man’s in costume, so it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s fake.”

  Shane glanced at Mella in Liz’s arms. “Is that fake blood on the cat?”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said. “Do you need to bag her feet?”

  “I need you to put her in a crate and take her to the vet clinic,” Shane said with a serious tone. “I need to process the scene, and I need evidence collected off of her before she cleans herself.”

  “Right,” I said, lifting Mella out of Liz’s arms. I glanced at Rex. “Do you need me to stay?”

  “No, go,” he said. “I’ll come around later for a debriefing interview. Whatever you do, don’t change clothes. It looks like the cat smeared evidence on you, as well.”

  “Right.” I looked down at the bloody paw prints on my pinup girl outfit. “What about chain of evidence? Do I need a policeman to go with me to ensure there isn’t contamination?”

  “Shane?” Rex asked.

  “Probably a good idea until I’m sure I have all the evidence,” Shane said from his position beside the body.

  “Fine,” Rex said. “Officer Brown, escort Miss McMurphy and her cat to the vet clinic, and ensure the chain of custody isn’t broken.”

  “Will do,” Charles said. “Shall we?” He pointed toward the McMurphy.

  “Okay. Liz?”

  “I’m going to stay. I’ve got a story to write.” She started texting on her phone. As the town reporter, Liz took her job seriously.

  That left me and Officer Brown to circumvent the crowds and wake the island’s only veterinarian. I blew out a long breath. This was a fine kettle of fish. I was becoming an expert in crime scene investigation . . . and so were my pets.

  * * *

  DECADENT DARK CHOCOLATE, CINNAMON CHIP, FLOURLESS BROWNIES

  1½ sticks (¾ cup) butter

  1⅓ cups unsweetened dark cocoa powder

  1¾ cups granulated sugar

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  3 large eggs

  ¾ cup cinnamon chips

  Preheat oven to 350° F and prepare 8-inch pan by lining it with parchment paper. I like to use a round pan for thicker brownies.

  Melt butter gently. Add cocoa to melted butter and whisk. Then add sugar and salt, and whisk until well combined. Add vanilla, stirring until smooth.

  Add eggs. Stir in gently until well combined—do not overmix eggs. I switch from whisk to spatula for this part. Gently fold in cinnamon chips.

  Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, and smooth out the top. Bake 20–25 minutes until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out with moist crumbs and no wet batter. Unlike with cake, a clean toothpick means brownies are overdone.

  Your house will smell awesome!

  Cool 15 minutes and remove with liner from the pan. Set them on a rack to cool completely (if you can wait). Cut and enjoy!

  Makes about 2 dozen brownies.

  Chapter 2

  Dr. Hampton wasn’t too pleased when we knocked on his door and got him out of bed. It was nearly 10 P.M. by this time.

  “What’s going on?” he grumbled when he answered the door to the vet clinic. He wore scrubs and a striped bathrobe that had seen better days. His gray hair stood up on one side. “Is someone dying?”

  “Sorry to get you up,” I said, lifting the cat carrier. “But Mella has blood all over her.” Officer Brown had let me stop by the McMurphy long enough to put Mella in her carrier. I felt it was safer for her, me, and everyone else.

  “Come in.” Dr. Hampton usually worked on horses and large animals, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take emergency visits for cats and dogs—especially in the off-season. He waved Officer Brown and me through the door. We walked from the tiny back porch into the back of his home, where he had a small waiting area and an exam room. “Sorry the place is so small. I usually work in the stables. There’s no way I’m bringing a horse into my office.”

  “No problem. I’ll stand right here.” Officer Brown stood in the exam room doorway and left the procedure to us.

  “The cat’s quiet—doesn’t sound like she’s in obvious pain,” Dr. Hampton said. “That’s either good or bad. Some animals go quiet when they’re hurt. It’s a survival instinct.”

  “I’m not certain she is hurt,” I said. “You see, we think
she walked through a puddle of blood. Mella found a dead man in the alley. Shane Carpenter, the crime scene tech, said to bring her to you. That way, he can collect any evidence off of her safely, and you can check to see if she’s hurt.”

  “I see,” the veterinarian said. He put on his glasses and eyed me. “You look like you’re covered in blood.”

  “I was getting ready to attend the zombie walk,” I said. “But Liz and I were in the alley and found Mella with bloody paws. I picked her up, and . . . well, she covered me in whatever she walked through. That’s why Officer Brown is here. To ensure any evidence on Mella and my clothes can still be used in court.”

  “That true?” Dr. Hampton asked Officer Brown.

  Charles simply nodded and crossed his arms as if to protect the doorway.

  “All right. Let’s get her out of the box so I can have a look at her,” Dr. Hampton said. I opened the cat carrier door, and he reached in and gently extracted her.

  “Shane was hoping to collect evidence before she cleaned herself,” I said as he gave my cat a careful examination.

  Mella liked the vet and let him examine her without a peep. He put his stethoscope ends in his ears and listened to her heart, then checked her temperature. “I think she’s fine,” he pronounced. “It looks like all this blood is from something else.”

  “More like someone,” I said, glancing at Officer Brown. “But I probably shouldn’t talk about it.”

  “Sounds like something I’ll learn about in the paper tomorrow,” Dr. Hampton said. “I think I can wait until then.”

  The sound of the bells and a sudden gust of wind signaled the opening of the back door. Mella reacted by trying to claw her way out of the vet’s grip, but he had her nice and tight by the back of her scruff.

  “Hello,” Shane called.

  “We’re in here,” I said. Shane pushed past Officer Brown with his kit, and the room shrunk considerably. He was a thin guy, but it was a tiny room. I could feel Mella’s tension rise. “I think I’ll step out.”