Fudge Bites Page 20

Haley took the casserole dish and went into the kitchen. “Coffee?” she called from the other room.

  “Yes, please,” I said and sat down. “How is Haley holding up?” I asked the pastor.

  “She’s trying to be strong. Ralph was her last remaining relative. She’s losing her husband and her family all in the space of a day or two.”

  “I don’t understand how she didn’t know her aunt was dead. I mean, everyone thought he went to visit her, but she’s been dead for two years. It doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t Haley have known?”

  “Haley’s aunt, Ruth, was estranged from the two of them,” Pastor Henry said. “The news of her passing only came out on Mackinac when the police tried to contact Ruth after finding Ralph. And Haley only found out a few weeks ago.”

  “So it must feel like a lot of family death all at once,” I said.

  “I wasn’t close to Aunt Ruth,” Haley said. She came out of the kitchen with a tray and a fresh pot of coffee and a cup for me. She and Pastor Henry had their own cups on the coffee table already, along with cream, sugar, and a plate of cookies. “She disappeared from the family ten years ago. I was quite young. Then when my mother passed a few years ago, Uncle Ralph sort of took me under his wing.”

  “When was the last time you saw your uncle?” I asked.

  “The middle of August,” she said. “I’m embarrassed to say that we had a bit of a fight.” Her eyes welled, and she grabbed a tissue. “He had been looking for Ruth. He said he thought he might have found where she lived in Ann Arbor, and he was going to go visit. I told him I needed him here. He insisted that he had to find Ruth. He had a bad feeling, he said.”

  “How did you learn of Ruth’s passing?”

  She got up, went to the desk in the corner, and pulled out an envelope. “I got this in the mail last month.”

  I took the envelope and opened it to find a newspaper clipping. It was a death notice for a Ruth Jordan. No obituary—just a notice. “I’m sorry.” I handed the note back to her.

  “I thought it was Uncle Ralph who sent me the notice, but Rex told me that Ralph has been dead for almost two months. So I have no idea who sent this, or why.”

  I hugged her. “I’m sure they wanted you to have closure. Did your aunt have any children? A husband?”

  “No children that I know of,” Haley said. “But her last name is different, so she must have married. Or changed it for some reason.”

  “Are you certain this person was your aunt?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I contacted the county police when I got the notice, and they sent me a copy of her driver’s license. She looked exactly like my mother.”

  “I’m so sorry you have had to deal with so much loss recently.”

  “Pastor Henry thinks dealing with Ruth’s loss without any family support might be what led me to having an affair.” She patted his hand. “Grief can make you act in strange ways.”

  “We’re talking to Rick about coming back and working on the relationship,” Pastor Henry said. “Haley needs her friends and family now more than ever.”

  “I understand. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. I hope you enjoy the casserole. But now I’ve got to go. I’ve got some good deeds to do.” I hugged Haley, and she walked me to the door. Before I left, though, she stopped me.

  “Wait. Don’t you want to give me a pin?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Pastor Henry told me about the fundraiser competition. Isn’t that why you brought the casserole?”

  I felt the heat of a blush rush up my cheeks. “Maybe a little, but I would have brought it anyway. With all your loss, I just couldn’t ask you to be a part of my team.”

  “You are such a doll,” Haley said. She hugged me again. “Please, leave me a pin. I’ll wear it proudly for you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, giving her the pin.

  “I’ll wear one, too,” Pastor Henry said. “For your compassion.” I handed him the pin and left.

  Next, I went to check in with Maggs. It had been a while since I’d seen her, even though her home was only a few blocks from the McMurphy. I knocked on the door.

  “Come in, it’s not locked,” she called out.

  “Hi, Maggs,” I said as I entered. “I came to check on you.”

  She was tucked into her couch with an afghan covering her. A pot of tea and a cup rested on the coffee table, and handfuls of used tissues were scattered across the floor. “Hi, Allie. I’m not sure if you want to come in. I might still be contagious.”

  “What happened?” I fearlessly went over and gave her a hug.

  “The doctor at the clinic said it’s flu brought on by stress.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine. Please, sit, and tell me what’s going on in the world. I don’t have a television, and people have been avoiding talking to me about anything newsworthy since Anthony’s death.”

  I sat down. “They probably don’t know what to say. I’m sure Frances has been by.”

  “Every single day, bless her,” Maggs said. “Tell me, have you come any closer to finding my Anthony’s killer?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I did find out that Anthony was dressed very similarly to Josh Spalding. We worried that Josh was the intended victim—especially since we discovered he was having an affair with Haley Manx.”

  “But Rick Manx wasn’t the killer, was he.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No.” I drew my eyebrows together. “How did you know that?”

  “I saw him going into the Nag’s Head just before I went to meet Anthony that night.” She grabbed a tissue and sneezed, blowing her nose. “Sorry.”

  “No, don’t worry,” I said. “Can I get you some soup or something?”

  “I’m good.” She leaned back and momentarily closed her eyes. “I’m kind of tired of soup. All I can do now is wait it out.” She peeked at me from under her lashes. “I heard that you found a second body.”

  “I guess I’m making that a habit,” I said. “I don’t like finding one body, let alone two. But Mal and I were out looking for Mella.”

  “Your cat?”

  “Yes, she’s still missing. Have you seen her?”

  “No, dear, I’ve been housebound for a few days now. How did you come across the second body?”

  “Mal pulled me into a patch of scrub on the corner. I found a canvas bag filled with hymnals, so I called Rex. He scanned the area and found the body. Apparently, it was Ralph Jorgensen, and he’d been dead a couple of months.”

  “I’m surprised no one reported the smell. Death has a smell, you know.”

  “Well, that scrubby patch wasn’t exactly on the tourist part of town.”

  “Do they know how he died?”

  “I haven’t heard,” I said. “I just went to Haley’s house to bring her a casserole.”

  “We celebrate the dead in October, but this is too much dead,” Maggs said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “I didn’t want to upset Haley by asking probing questions, but I was wondering . . . do you know if the hymnals could be connected to Ralph in some way? I mean, if I hadn’t found them, Rex wouldn’t have found Ralph. But Rex said he took the hymnals around to all the churches and no one recognized them. I think they were old ones. Did you know Ralph? Do you think he’d be carrying a bag of old hymnals?”

  “I only knew Ralph through church,” she said. “He’d come sometimes when we had our ladies’ auxiliary meeting. He was the janitor at St. John’s, you know. But before he worked there, he puttered around St. Anne’s.”

  “Why did he switch churches?”

  “Well, St. John’s didn’t have a pastor for decades. So a group of us got together a few years ago and petitioned the main church to assign us a pastor. They pulled Pastor Henry from missionary work two years ago. First thing he did was gather the congregation and other volunteers to clean and repair the church building. It was in disarray after all those years of neglect. Ralph stuck w
ith the place, making it his full-time job. Anthony used to tell me how Ralph was always at the church. He was quite handy. According to Anthony, Ralph replaced drywall and flooring, and he reworked most of the windows.”

  “Wow, sounds like Ralph was a real handyman. Was Anthony at the church a lot? I mean, besides choir practice . . .”

  “Oh, yes, he loved to sing. He wanted to be a famous singer when he was young, but when he decided to go to law school, he put that aside. So he decided to sing for the Lord, and he made it his mission to create the best chorus on the island.” She smiled softly. “I’ve asked the choir to sing at his funeral. But, of course, the police won’t release the body until they have everything they need to make an arrest and conviction.”

  “I wish I had known Anthony better,” I said. We sat in silence for a moment, each with our own regrets and sadness. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Thanks, dear, but this was enough. I’m tired.”

  I stood and gave her another quick hug. “Do you want me to have Frances bring you anything when she stops by this evening? Ice cream, maybe?”

  “Rocky road would be nice.”

  “Rocky road it is,” I said.

  “Before you go,” Maggs stopped me. “Leave me one of your pins.”

  “How did you know about that?” I drew my eyebrows together, confused.

  “Frances calls me on the hour. I promise to wear it at the auction. I can’t have ‘Louise’”—she used air quotes around the name—“beat you.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I don’t know who will bid on me. Trent can’t—he’s on the bachelor team—and Rex . . . well, he’s working Anthony’s case.”

  “I’m sure it will be someone nice. Have you got your sponsorship yet? You know, for the date night?”

  “I was thinking that I would call Tara Reeves. She’s been doing the lunches for the seniors at the McMurphy. I could offer a picnic basket at Tranquility Point Overlook.”

  “Will the Mission Point Resort allow you to bring in catered food?”

  “I already checked. They said it was fine because it’s off-season and only a party of two.”

  “Well, then that will be nice.”

  “Let’s hope so. Goodness knows, I’ll never live it down if Mrs. Tunisian beats me.”

  “I’m just glad you’re helping the church. Anthony would have loved that.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  Chapter 22

  “How’s the investigation going?” I asked Rex when he joined Mal and me for our early Tuesday morning walk.

  “I’m no closer to finding Anthony’s killer.” He seemed pensive as he walked beside us.

  “Do you ever worry about the forty-eight-hour thing?” I asked as Mal sniffed her way down the alley. I liked to think she was reading her morning news, seeing what happened during the night.

  “What?”

  “You know, the saying that after the first forty-eight hours, it gets harder to find a killer.”

  “They say that?”

  I frowned and smacked his muscled arm. “They do say that.”

  “Have I ever worried about that?”

  “No.”

  “And should I tell Ralph’s family that it’s too late to find his killer?”

  “No. But wait, are you saying he was killed? You hadn’t said before whether he died of natural causes or not.” I stopped and turned to him. “Someone killed him? Do you think it was over the gold?” I drew my eyebrows together. “If they killed him for the gold, they would have taken it, right?”

  “Unless they couldn’t find him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to be blunt. It takes time to die. It’s rare for any creature to drop dead in their tracks. Ask any hunter. Most times, you have to track your animal and find them where they finally fall. Adrenaline takes a dying animal far.”

  “You think he ran and hid, and then died?” I sounded as horrified as I felt.

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense, if the killer knew that there was more than hymnals in his bag.”

  “You think the killer knew about the gold.”

  “Why else would Ralph cover the bag in leaves when he was dying?”

  “He was hiding it from his killer.”

  He was silent, and we walked a bit. “I think the gold came from St. John’s.”

  “Why?”

  “The hymnals. They were older, and St. John’s was abandoned until two years ago when Pastor Henry took it over.”

  “But why would someone hide gold in an abandoned church?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I shook my head and frowned. None of it made sense. “Maggs told me that Anthony said Ralph was always fixing drywall and floors and rafters and such. If there was gold hidden in the church, maybe he found it and tried to take it.”

  “Someone caught him, and they fought.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You know, Anthony may have figured it all out, and that was why he was killed.”

  “Because he figured out a two-month-old murder with no body?”

  “He might have figured out that Ralph was looking for something, and looked into it himself,” I said. “He might have found more gold. That could be why he was killed.”

  “No. If he was killed for the gold, why wait and kill him in the alley? Besides, no one reported a break-in at his place.”

  “I don’t know.” I felt my shoulders fall in defeat. “I don’t have any answers.”

  We walked in silence while Mal did her thing, then we headed down to the lake shore and back.

  “I heard you’re up for auction on Saturday,” Rex said finally.

  “Yes,” I said, sending him a sideways look. “St. John’s was knocked off its foundation in the senior center explosion. So I thought having a bachelor auction would help raise some money.”

  “So you volunteered?”

  “Liz told Pastor Henry I would do it. Then it was too hard to get out of it. And now I’m in a weird competition with Louise.”

  “Who’s Louise?”

  “Mrs. Tunisian.”

  “Really?” His blue eyes sparkled.

  “Yes,” I said, “and she’s probably going to win. We have to get people to take a ribbon and wear it at the auction. The person with the combination of highest bid and most ribbons wins the overall prize.”

  “What’s that?”

  I shrugged. “A trophy, maybe? Really just bragging rights. How will I ever face my friends if Louise beats me?”

  “She does have the advantage of about sixty years more than you on the island.”

  We walked past one of the flyers I’d put out the other day. “You haven’t seen Mella, have you?”

  “She’s still missing?”

  “Yes,” I said. I reached down and picked Mal up. “At least I still have you, Mal.” I gave her a squeeze, and she kissed my cheek and wiggled back down to the ground.

  “I’ll wear your ribbon,” Rex said. “I’ll be at the auction.”

  “Really? I haven’t done anything kind for you.”

  “You’re always kind. Besides, it would be my pleasure.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Come on in, and I’ll get you a ribbon.”

  We were about half a block from the McMurphy when a deafening noise filled the air. Rex sprang into action, grabbing Mal and me as we were thrown to the ground by the shockwave. He shielded us from the debris raining down. I felt it sting the back of my legs as I choked on smoke and dust.

  When things settled, we rolled onto our backs and sat up. Mal shook hard, and dust went flying. I wiped the debris from my face. What had just happened?

  Rex was on his feet, calling dispatch on his walkie-talkie. It took me a moment to stand up. People started to come out of their nearby homes and apartments to gather in the street.

  The top of the McMurphy had just blown off. My apartment and all my grandparents’ things now lay buried in smoking rubble. I sat down on the curb
, tears running down my cheeks. I’d been through a lot this year, but I never imagined I would be the one to lose our family business.

  Rex studied me grimly. “I hope you have insurance.”

  * * *

  I sat in Frances’s kitchen with my hands wrapped around a hot cup of tea. Mal was in a doggy bed, chewing on a bone at my feet. “I keep thinking that I’ve got fudge to make. I should be getting it to the delivery guy right now if I’m going to make my shipment.”

  “It’s shock,” Frances said. She put her hand over mine and squeezed it.

  “Put this blanket around your shoulders,” Douglas said, draping a wool blanket over me.

  “I’m not cold,” I said as my teeth started to chatter. “Do they know what happened yet?”

  “The fire chief is investigating right now.”

  “I just replaced the boiler last spring.” I looked at Frances. “You don’t think it was a gas leak, do you?”

  “I doubt it,” she said. “Douglas keeps his eye on maintenance.”

  “I would have noticed anything amiss,” Douglas said. “I’m just darn glad you and Mal weren’t inside at the time.”

  “I don’t understand. Who’s doing this? Why are they doing it? Is it because I have offered the McMurphy as a place for the seniors to gather? Was it something that I might have known or uncovered?”

  “You can’t blame yourself, dear,” Frances patted my hand. “Crazy people are just crazy.”

  “You’ve said that before,” I said.

  “And she was right both times,” Douglas said.

  “Listen. I’ve made up the spare bedroom. You and Mal can stay here until you decide what you’re going to do next.”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t impose . . .” My phone rang. It was my mother. I got up, answered the phone, and stepped into the hallway. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Allie, what happened? We heard that the McMurphy blew up. Is it true? Are you okay?”

  I spent the next half an hour pacing in the living room and trying to convince my mom that I was fine. She spent the same amount of time insisting that I move back home to Detroit. My mom was never a fan of Mackinac Island, I think because she felt like my father’s family tradition might have stifled him. Fortunately, Papa Liam had allowed my father to step out of the family obligation and pursue his dream of studying architecture.