Fudge Bites Page 21

  I sort of wished my mother had the same respect for my dream of continuing the family tradition of hotel and fudge shop.

  “I’ve got to go, Mom,” I said.

  “I’m flying up there tomorrow.”

  “Please, Mom. I’m fine. There’s no place for you to stay. I promise to call every day.”

  Frances opened the front door, and Liz and Sophie walked in.

  “Are you okay?” they asked at the same time.

  “I’m fine,” I said after hanging up my phone. Both girls hugged me hard. Mal greeted them, and they reached down to pet her.

  “I’ll get some tea,” Frances said, slipping into the kitchen.

  “Who did this?” Sophie asked as she straightened up.

  “Any idea how?” Liz asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. I sat on the sofa. “Mal and I took our usual early morning walk, and when we were on our way back—bam!”

  “You have cameras everywhere, right?” Liz asked, sitting on a wingback chair. “Surely they caught someone on them. You can’t just put explosives in a building as locked down as the McMurphy. Someone had to see you do it.”

  “Do you think it’s the same person who blew up the senior center?” Sophie asked, crossing her arms.

  “Is it because you’re having the seniors at your place for lunch?” Liz pondered.

  “Why would someone not want the seniors together?” Sophie asked. “I mean, the bomber is always careful that no one is in the building, right? So why?”

  “I wish I knew,” I said. “As soon as they release the building, I’m going to go back and see how bad it is.”

  “Honey, you shouldn’t,” Liz said. “Not after all the money you’ve put into the renovations.”

  “Look at the bright side,” Sophie said. “Now you can start from scratch and rebuild it fresh.”

  “She won’t have to,” Rex said as he entered from the kitchen. Douglas and Frances were behind him, so they must have let him in. Mal leapt up and bounded on him for pets.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. I stood to touch the stitches on his cheek.

  “Nothing some whiskey can’t cure.” He touched my hair. “There’s a knot on your forehead the size of a goose egg.”

  “Yeah, I went down hard. I think Mal was the only one unscathed. I really doubt I’ll win the bachelorette auction now.”

  “You’re gorgeous no matter what,” he said, his voice low.

  I tried not to blush. “You said I won’t have to rebuild the McMurphy from scratch?”

  “No,” he said, gesturing for me to sit back down. He sat beside me on the couch. “The fire chief looked it over. It appears that only the roof imploded. I’m afraid that your apartment and office will need to be redone along with the roof, but it appears the foundation is good, and the second and third floors have held their own. He thinks that you should hire a structural engineer, but once they give the okay, it won’t take long to raise the roof again.”

  “Oh my gosh, that’s so wonderful!” I hugged Rex maybe a tad too tight.

  A throat cleared, and we broke apart. It was Trent. Douglas had let him in. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Just a bump on the head. Rex told me that the McMurphy might be salvageable.”

  “That’s great news.” He gave me a quick hug. “So the Chicago move might be necessary sooner than we thought.”

  “No, it seems like there is even more to do here now,” I said, turning to Rex. “Can I go see it?”

  “It’s probably best that you wait until the inspector is finished.”

  I slumped down in my chair. “I have fudge to make, and the auction to fight for, and the seniors were coming for lunch.”

  “Honey,” Frances put her arm around me. “None of that matters. What matters is that you and Mal are okay, and so is Rex.”

  “I’ll call the security service,” Douglas said. “Maybe they have film of who did this.”

  “That might be a good idea,” Rex said. “But right now, we’re not sure it wasn’t simply structural.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There doesn’t seem to be any evidence of explosives,” he said. “You’ve had a crew working on your roof, right?”

  “Yes, but they were reinforcing it, not weakening it.”

  “Well, that’s for the engineers and inspectors to figure out.”

  “If it wasn’t an explosion, then the roof could have collapsed on us at any moment.” That thought horrified me. I felt my skin go cold.

  “Put your head between your knees,” Douglas ordered.

  I did what he said and tried to breathe.

  “Get her some water,” Trent said.

  Someone handed me a glass of water. I raised my head enough to take a sip.

  “We should let the seniors know there won’t be lunch at the McMurphy today,” I said.

  “Honey, they know. It was a large explosion right in the middle of Main Street,” Liz said. “The police and newspaper’s phones were ringing off the hook.”

  “It shook things up all right,” Sophie said. “We felt it at the airport.”

  “How could a simple roof collapse have done that? Especially if it was just structural?” I asked.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Rex said.

  It hit me that everything was working against my staying on the island. All my hard work and success from the season was disappearing under my feet. Maybe I should give up and go with Trent to Chicago. It was what any sane person would do, wasn’t it?

  Chapter 23

  “Are you okay?” Pastor Henry had come to Frances’s house to check on me. I was tucked up on the couch with Mal. Frances and Douglas refused to let me do anything other than rest.

  “I’m fine, really,” I said. “I’m sorry that I won’t be able to really help with the fundraising.” I touched my throbbing head. “The doctor at the clinic told me I was going to have quite a shiner. Not exactly something you want to look at when you’re out on a romantic date. I’m going to have to step down from the auction.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, patting my hand. “We can find another volunteer. The fact that you thought up the auction and got it going is enough.” He paused. “Do you have any idea what happened? Is it tied to the senior center explosion?”

  “They don’t think so,” I said. “Rex said it might be structural. There was a crew working on my roof. That may have stressed it and caused it to collapse.”

  “Hopefully it didn’t knock your building off its foundation.”

  “Well, unlike the church, the McMurphy shares walls with the two buildings beside it. That might have saved it from being a total loss.” I closed my eyes. “I just had the second floor remodeled, too.”

  “Maybe the fundraiser should be for you,” he suggested. His eyes were kind. It struck me that he really was a very handsome man, and kind of young for a pastor, after all.

  “No, I have insurance. It’ll be fine. That’s what Frances keeps reminding me, anyway.”

  “Well, there you have it. It’s great to have good friends like Frances and Douglas.”

  “Didn’t the church have insurance for the building?” I asked.

  “We’ve been busy revitalizing the congregation,” he said. “Every penny has gone into shoring up the building, utilities, and such. It’s tough to be a nonprofit.”

  “And to lose members of your congregation,” I said, touching his hand. “I understand Ralph worked for the church as a handyman.”

  “Yes, his loss is going to be felt deeply. Ralph volunteered much of his time. He was always knocking on the walls, looking for wood rot and other damage. Did a lot of good work for us.”

  “I understand there were some old hymnals near where his body was found. You didn’t recognize them?”

  “No,” he said, sitting back with a shrug. “But I’ve not been here long. They could have been old books he found in the church attic. I haven’t spent any time digging around up there.
I asked him to clean it up, and he brought down some boxes for the garage sale before he left. Well, we thought he left.”

  “What kind of things can be found in a church attic?” I asked, curious.

  “Over time, parishioners leave things to the church. Some families just clean out the cottages and give it to the church to sell at our fundraisers.”

  “Any treasures up there?”

  He laughed. “Now that would be something, right? Maybe a painting? I should go check. It’s not like Ralph was an art or antique expert.”

  “How did you hire Ralph?”

  “I didn’t have to,” he said. “When I arrived, he came over and offered his services for a minimal charge. The church was poor, and it needed work. It worked out great.”

  “Why would he work for so little?”

  “I figured he was retired.”

  “Probably,” I said. “How nice of him to offer so much time.”

  “Indeed.”

  I was interested in learning more about Ralph, but I couldn’t help but still be agitated about the McMurphy. “With the McMurphy out of commission, where will the seniors meet?”

  “It’s probably best that they don’t meet,” Pastor Henry said. “I would offer my church, but it needs to be shored up until we can put it back on its foundation.”

  “There must be somewhere else. Maybe city hall?”

  “You don’t worry about that,” he said. “I’ll look into it. Mrs. Tunisian is still campaigning to win the auction competition. I’ll work with her on that.”

  “You’re very kind.” Mal jumped up into my lap, and I hugged her.

  “Well, you take care of yourself, and don’t worry about Saturday.”

  He left, and I sat with Mal. The sun was starting to go down. I threw off the afghan and got up, put my shoes on, and hooked Mal’s leash to her harness. I had to see the McMurphy. I had to know how bad it was.

  I walked down the street and onto Main. People still moved from shops to bars. The ferries weren’t running this time of year, but that didn’t keep people from flying onto the island or taking chartered boats.

  I could smell the dust before I saw the damage. A portion of the roof of the Old Tyme Photo Shop had been torn off, and the street in front of the shop was littered with debris. I blinked back tears as I approached the McMurphy. It looked like a pile of rubble. The entire fourth floor was exposed to the cool fall air. The front door was covered with debris, and the windows on the front were shattered. My expensive cameras hung by their cords on the sides of my family’s legacy.

  I began moving debris from the front of the door. There was a lot to sift through. Splintered wood, shards of glass, pieces of the new waterproofing they had just put on the roof. I tried not to think too hard about all the money I’d lost. Or how winter was coming, and the McMurphy had no roof.

  But I just thought of it more, and it hit me hard. I’d pushed for a new rooftop deck, and by doing that, I’d lost the entire top part of the McMurphy. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my stomach felt sick.

  Mal barked and jumped on me. I wiped away the tears and shivered. The sun had gone down, and I wore only one of Douglas’s sweatshirts over a light top and pants. Mal barked again and dug at the door. “Stop, baby,” I said. “You’ll get hurt.”

  Then I heard it. A meow. I dropped Mal’s leash, grabbed my phone, and turned on the flashlight. There was a shine from a pair of yellow eyes and another meow.

  “Mella?” I dug in earnest. Mal barked. Suddenly, someone reached over me and lifted a heavy board. I looked over my shoulder to see Rex. Mella meowed and squeezed out of the lobby and into my arms. “Mella, my girl. How are you? Are you okay?”

  I stood and held her. I couldn’t stop petting her.

  “Is she okay?” Rex asked.

  “I don’t see any blood. Do you think she was in the McMurphy the entire time?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “It’s a big place.”

  “If she’s been inside this whole time, she hasn’t eaten in days,” I said. “Her food dishes weren’t touched.”

  “Dishes?”

  “I keep one in the apartment, and one downstairs. She likes to roam, and sometimes she gets caught downstairs, so I set up an extra litterbox, food, and water dishes.”

  Mella wiggled out of my arms and leapt to the street.

  “Hey!” Mal took off after her. We followed close behind. Mella turned a corner, went under a fence, and through a cat door.

  We stopped, and Mal went through the cat door, too, right into the house. “Oh no!” I looked at Rex. “Did that just happen?”

  He knocked on the door. I could hear Mal barking with joy and Mella meowing. I winced at the sound of breaking glass. My pets were having a field day in a stranger’s home.

  The door flew open to reveal a lovely older woman looking slightly frazzled. She held two kittens. “This is not a good time to be selling something,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s my dog and cat,” I said. I rushed into the living room of the tiny bungalow and grabbed Mal by the leash.

  “Your cat?”

  “Yes, Mella, she’s my calico. Sorry, I’m Allie McMurphy.” I picked up Mal, and Mella rubbed up against my legs.

  “Oh, dear girl. I heard about your hotel. Please, sit down. Hello, Rex.”

  “Hi, Sheila,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Two new kittens?”

  “They belong to this cat, actually,” she said. She put the kittens down, and they went over to Mella. Shocked, I watched her lie down and let them nurse. “Can I make us all some coffee?”

  “That would be great,” Rex said. He sat down on the chair opposite me.

  “Sheila?” I asked him as she left for the kitchen.

  “Sheila Vissor,” he said.

  “Where have I heard that name before?”

  “She and Mr. Beecher are a couple.”

  “Oh!” My eyes grew round. “That Sheila.”

  “Yes, I’m that Sheila,” she said as she wheeled in a tray with coffee cups, cream, sugar, a thermal carafe of coffee, and a plate of cookies. “I’m sorry that we haven’t met before, Allie. I’ve been housebound with a bad ankle.”

  That’s when I noticed the wrap on her ankle. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

  “Well, I stepped off a curb and broke it in three places. It’s been quite impossible to heal, I’m afraid.” She put the tray down, and Rex took over pouring the coffee. “It happened in June, actually, but it wasn’t healing right, so they surgically broke it and added some pins and plates and nonsense. I’m just now getting around more. Mr. Beecher has been taking good care of me. Now, tell me why you call my cat Mella.”

  “Your cat?” Mella had shown up at my door in July, and no one claimed her when I asked around, so I had taken her in. Now I was attached, and I didn’t want to give her up.

  “Oh yes. Angel has been with me five years now,” Sheila said.

  “Oh.” My heart sank. “She has been with me for a few months. I thought she had adopted the McMurphy as her home.”

  “She must have been looking for attention while I was injured.” The kittens had finished, so Mella jumped up and curled up in Sheila’s lap. “She’s my special girl.”

  “But wouldn’t Mr. Beecher have known that?” I asked. “He knows Mella. He never said she was yours.”

  “Well, it is true that I never officially adopted her. She comes and goes as she pleases, as do most of the cats on the island, and he never pays much notice to which cat is visiting me at any given time. I’m a bit of a cat lover. My cat door is always open.”

  “That’s nice.” I said. I tried not to be too disappointed. “We dug Mella out of the debris at the McMurphy just now. Has she been here today? Or was she in there the entire time?”

  “Oh goodness, I haven’t paid too much attention to her over the past few days,” Sheila said. “With my ankle still being iffy, and now the new kittens, I guess I’ve been distracted. How bad is the McMurphy?�
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  “The roof collapsed,” Rex said.

  “Oh my goodness, that’s terrible.”

  “Yes, it is,” I said.

  “Are you alright?” She blinked at me and Rex. “Well, it looks like perhaps not. I’m sorry.” She sat back. “I should have noticed right off. My goodness, is this somehow connected to the senior center bombing?”

  “That’s not clear,” Rex said.

  “We don’t think so—” I started at the same time, and then looked at Rex.

  “It looks like the roof joists were cut, and there is evidence of explosives.”

  “But you said—”

  “It was early on,” he said, his mouth a thin line.

  “Why would anyone want to hurt the McMurphy?” Sheila asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But perhaps because we’ve been hosting the seniors’ lunches since the center was bombed.”

  “Someone doesn’t want the seniors together.”

  “Maybe they know something about Anthony Vanderbilt’s death, or Ralph Jorgensen’s,” I suggested. “At first we thought that Anthony was killed by mistake, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “We have no proof that any of this is connected,” Rex said with caution.

  I frowned. “Sheila, do you know anything about St. John’s?”

  “Sure,” she said. “I grew up in that church. It was quite a shame when it went dormant for so many years.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Oh, well, the old pastor died, and with most people on Mackinac being snowbirds, the church couldn’t afford to bring in a new pastor.”

  “Then why did they bring in Pastor Henry?”

  “They didn’t,” she said. “He showed up one day and set out on a mission to revitalize the congregation.”

  “He showed up?” I asked. “Isn’t that odd? I thought that the community worked to have a new pastor brought in.”

  “Well, some of us thought so, but he had a letter from the bishop, so we were happy to let him into the community either way. He’s been a blessing, slowly restoring the church.” She smiled. “Back in the day, before my time, the church had patrons who left parts of their estates to the church. But then the Great Depression hit, and many of the stock portfolios and estates were depleted. For a while, the church ran on funds earned by selling property or items given to them. But even that eventually gave out. The last pastor basically lived off of people bringing him food and donating money to pay the electric bill. Couldn’t even afford gas in the winter.”