Fudge Bites Read online

  “That’s sad.”

  “You know, there was a rumor that during the Depression, one of the congregation members invested wisely in gold and gave it to the church, but it’s never been found. It’s sort of like those rumors of family burying money in the backyard or basement. The secret dies with the elderly. Some think that the secret of the gold died with the last pastor back in the seventies.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “If he had gold, why live so poorly?”

  “Pastor Umbra had dementia. Couldn’t remember things. The congregation took good care of him. Well, as best as we could.”

  I looked at Rex. “Ralph found the gold.”

  “And someone killed him for it.”

  “What?” Sheila asked.

  “Mal and I found a bag of hymnals, and at the bottom of the bag were several gold bars. I called Rex, and he came and found Ralph’s body. “

  “Ralph died with a bag of hymnals and gold bars?” Sheila looked astonished. “And you think he was killed for the gold?”

  “Yes—but if he was, why didn’t the killer take the gold?” I asked.

  “I’m still thinking that he got away before the killer could take the bars,” Rex said.

  “That means the killer is still out there, and most likely still looking for the bars,” Sheila said. “Do you think that Anthony might have known who killed Ralph and been killed before he could tell?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We don’t know if there’s a connection at all.”

  “Except for the church,” Rex said. “It all comes back to St. John’s.”

  “Which is also the church across the street from the senior center,” Sheila pointed out. “You two should go talk to Pastor Henry.”

  “I talked to him just this morning,” I said. “He stopped by Frances and Douglas’s place to check on me.”

  “Does he know about the gold?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I never mentioned to anyone that there was gold in Ralph’s bag. Did you?” I asked Rex.

  “No,” he said. “But it’s a small island. I’m sure word got out. The gold is in the evidence locker. My crew has been trying to trace its origins, but so far, no luck.”

  “Check the old congregation of St. John’s,” Sheila suggested. “One of the seniors would know. It’s probably why the bomber is trying to keep us all apart.”

  “Thanks.” I stood, letting Mal down but holding firmly to her leash. “Is it okay if Mella—I mean Angel—comes and visits me?”

  “Of course,” Sheila said. She stood, too, after giving the two kittens a pet. “Share the wealth, I say. Besides, I’m not going to be around forever, you know.”

  “Don’t say that,” I chided, giving her a quick hug goodbye. “You’ve got years.”

  “I’ve got something, all right,” she said. “Now, don’t you two be strangers.”

  We left and walked quietly toward Frances’s home. “Ralph must have been looking for the gold all along,” I said. “That’s why he was checking the walls and the floors of the church.”

  “I’ll do some digging into who else might have been looking for the gold,” Rex said. “And Pastor Henry. It’s a small island, but it might be more than a coincidence that both Anthony and Ralph belonged to the same church.”

  “A church with hidden assets.”

  “Exactly,” Rex said. He walked me to the door. “Go inside and stay safe. There’s a killer out there, and you have a target on your back.”

  I gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. “You do the same.” I went inside, wondering what tomorrow was going to bring.

  * * *

  CHOCOLATE-COATED TRUFFLES

  ½ cup milk chocolate chips

  3 (14-ounce) bags dark chocolate chips (roughly 5 cups), divided

  2 tablespoons butter (coconut oil can be substituted)

  100 milliliters cream

  100 milliliters chocolate liqueur of your choice (I used chocolate red wine that I found at the grocery store)

  You will need a pastry bag to create a drizzle design and a silicone mini muffin pan or silicone ice trays (the silicon makes it easy to pop the truffles out and gives them a nice sheen).

  Melt the milk chocolate carefully in a microwave-safe bowl—I set it for 20 seconds, stir, and then put it back in for another 10, if needed. The milk chocolate should be runny enough to drizzle. Cool slightly before handling to avoid burning your fingers. Pour chocolate into pastry bag and create squiggles or diagonal lines of milk chocolate inside the muffin pan or ice cube tray. You only want lines—don’t coat. Chill until firm.

  Once the squiggles are chilled, take two cups of dark chocolate chips and two tablespoons of butter and microwave for one minute. Let sit for 30 seconds, then mix. You should get a nice shiny, runny glaze.

  Take a spoon and pour a teaspoon into each cavity over the hardened drizzle and swirl to just coat each tin. The drizzle may melt a bit into the chocolate. Chill until firm.

  Once the chocolate coating is firm, pour 100 milliliters of cream into a 2-cup glass measuring cup, then add the 100 milliliters of liqueur. Mix and microwave on high for one minute (I had to add an additional 20 seconds—you want it to just start steaming). Place two cups of dark chocolate chips in a bowl. Pour the warmed liquid on top, and stir until the chocolate is melted and it’s all combined. Spoon into the center of each cavity. Smooth the tops with a butter knife or spatula.

  Next, take the last cup of dark chocolate chips and place them in a microwave-safe bowl. Microwave on high for thirty seconds. Stir until melted and smooth. Frost the tops of the muffin pan or tray to seal in the center of the truffles.

  Chill for 2–3 hours. Then remove from fridge and pop the truffles out of the muffin pan by pushing the silicon inside out. They will be gorgeous, shiny truffles. Serve, or give as a gift.

  Makes about 4 dozen truffles.

  Chapter 24

  “This all sounded familiar, so I did some research.” Frances pointed to her computer. “They have all of the old newspapers online at the library. Anyway, it seems that the story of gold and St. John’s goes back a long, long time,” she said. “I found a news article that says a couple of boxes were left on the church’s doorstep as a donation. The pastor at the time found the gold, but banks were dying left and right due to the Depression, so he hid it for later when the church needed it.”

  “Then what happened?” I asked. “After the government fixed the banks, why didn’t he put the gold in an account?”

  “Things got busy, and he forgot where he put it,” Frances suggested.

  “Like that’s possible,” I said with a shake of my head.

  “Oh no, I don’t think he forgot. He was a wily one. It was the lure of buried treasure that had people attending St. John’s church functions,” Douglas said. “Pastor Umbra understood that if he put it in the bank, people would lose interest.”

  “So he kept it hidden, eventually got dementia, and then forgot where he put it,” Frances said. “Apparently, after his death people went into the church and searched everywhere, but they never found it. The place was boarded up, and the whole thing forgotten.”

  “Do you think Pastor Henry knew about the legend?”

  “If so, he didn’t mention it,” Douglas said. “Surely he would have, though, since it was such a big deal.”

  “Maybe he was treasure hunting himself and didn’t want anyone else to know he was looking,” I suggested. “I mean, someone was. Someone figured out that Ralph found it and tried to kill him over it.”

  “You think Pastor Henry killed Ralph? That sounds absurd,” Frances said. “The man has done nothing but good since he’s been here.”

  I frowned. “You’re right. Do you think Anthony might have figured out who killed Ralph?”

  “If he had, he would have gone straight to Rex about it,” Frances said. “He was a good boy.”

  “Unless he knew the killer and went to them asking for a confession first,”
I said.

  “And then the killer lashed out and killed Anthony,” Douglas deduced. “Yes, that sounds plausible. But who? And how did Anthony know about the gold when we didn’t find Ralph’s body until after Anthony died?”

  “I’m getting a headache,” I said.

  “Oh dear,” Frances said. “Is it a concussion? Watch my finger.” She waved a single finger in front of my face, side to side and up and down. “You’re following it all right. I’m sorry we have to keep you up, but it’s part of the doctor’s orders. We need to keep an eye on you and make sure nothing goes wrong.”

  “You mean nothing gets loose in my head,” I chuckled. “You two need to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

  Frances shook her head. “We need to check on you hourly.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “But if you’re going to stay up anyway, let’s at least try to figure out what’s going on. Who do you think the bomber is? Or the killer? It seems like an extreme response to the small possibility of the seniors remembering about the gold. After all, the bombing happened before anyone knew about the gold.”

  “But the bombing also knocked St. John’s off its foundation, which meant the church would have to be reset,” Douglas said. “If you think about it, it’s quite clever. A construction crew would have to come in and rework the building.”

  “So what, you think the bomber is part of a construction crew?” I asked.

  “Could be.”

  “That makes sense,” I said, sitting up straight. “The only people in or out of the McMurphy that had access to my attic were part of the construction crew. And they were there every time the seniors came for lunch. They must have heard someone say something that made them nervous.”

  “They showed their hand,” Douglas said. “I’m calling Rex.”

  Douglas went into the other room to make the call. Mal and I rested on Frances’s couch. She had made up the guest room for me, but then the doctor had advised that tonight I sleep on the couch where they could keep an eye on me. So far, so good.

  “Here I thought Anthony was killed because of his costume. That doesn’t seem to be the case at all,” I mused. “As for the construction crew . . . I really doubt Elmer would do something like that. It would ruin his business.”

  “I bet he didn’t know about it,” Frances said. “It’s someone on the crew.”

  “Did the senior center have any work done on it the day before it blew up? Some winterizing, maybe?”

  “Come to think of it, yes,” Frances said. “A crew came out to clean the gutters, caulk the windows, and add insulation to the attic.”

  “Who was on the crew?”

  “Oh gosh, I forget. But Douglas would know,” Frances said.

  The doorbell rang, and Mal dashed off, barking. Frances answered it to find Haley Manx standing there with a casserole dish in her hands. “Hi, how’s Allie doing?” she asked. “I brought her a casserole. I know no one died, but I figured with her apartment gone, she might need some extra food.”

  “Thanks,” Frances said. She took the dish.

  “Hi, Haley,” I said, starting to stand.

  “Don’t get up,” she said. “I’ll come to you. My goodness, look at the bump on your head. Does it hurt?” She gave me a quick hug and took the chair across from me.

  “A bit,” I said. I couldn’t help touching the goose egg-sized contusion. “I’m supposed to put ice on it, but it hurts.”

  “I would have come sooner, but I had an appointment with a funeral home in Mackinaw City and was gone all day. I was horrified when I heard.”

  “Thanks for coming,” I said. “I know you’re busy.”

  “They haven’t released my uncle’s body yet, but I have to get plans together for when they do.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s okay. You said you found a bag of hymnals with him?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We’ve been trying to figure out where he got them. We’re guessing out of St. John’s.”

  “Yeah, he was obsessed with the place,” she said. Then she leaned into me. “He told me once the church had a buried treasure from the 1920s, left from when the banks went under. But there’s no way anyone could keep a buried treasure on this island. Everyone knows everything.”

  “I heard the story about the treasure just today.”

  “Well, my uncle told me about it almost two years ago. He was drinking, and I thought he was making up stories. He was that kind of storyteller, you know? Always embellishing things. Then, when Pastor Henry came, my uncle started spending a lot of time volunteering. I figured he was trying to keep the old legend alive.”

  “You’re part of the choir. Did you know Anthony Vanderbilt well?”

  She smiled softly. “Anthony was a friend. He was a very straight-and-narrow kind of guy. ‘Get plenty of sleep before church. Drink lemon water. Gargle with salt water. Save your voice.’ Real standup sort.”

  “Did you ever see anyone fight with him?”

  “Anthony? No. Well, mostly no. Like I said, he was a standup guy. But he used to get mad if my uncle was at the church with a whiff of alcohol on him.” She paused and frowned. “You don’t think Anthony killed my uncle, do you? I mean, that doesn’t make any sense . . .”

  “No, I don’t think Anthony did that. I think your uncle found the treasure, and someone killed him for it.”

  “My uncle found the treasure?” She laughed. “If he found that treasure, he would have come straight to me first to brag about it.”

  “He didn’t?”

  “No,” she sat back. “Trust me. If he found the treasure, everyone on the island would have known.”

  “The treasure belonged to the church,” I said “If he told anyone, then he couldn’t have done anything more than brag he found it.”

  “He wasn’t looking for the money. I think my uncle wanted everyone to remember his name.”

  “Do you have any idea why he might have taken hymnals? I mean, it seems strange to take a bag of old books.”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “You found the bag, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It was buried in a shallow grave with leaves covering it. Not far from the church, actually, in a scrub area. I’m sure someone would have found it in the spring when everyone came back on the island to spruce up for the season. Mal and I were out looking for my cat when Mal found the bag. Rex found your uncle right after.”

  “I see,” she said. “Listen, I have your pinch pot and the rest of the things for the seniors. Would you do me a favor and come by my house tomorrow? We can load up the pots and visit the seniors.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” I said.

  “Great. I’m going to take off. I don’t want to tire you out.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Frances said as she came back into the room.

  I lay my head down on the couch. Mal jumped up and circled at my feet making her bed. I closed my eyes for the night—or at least until Frances had to check on me in an hour.

  * * *

  The next morning, I was awake early. The night had been a bit rocky with Frances and Douglas waking me every hour to look at my pupils. But it seems I’ve survived the incident with little more than a knot on my forehead and the blossoming of a deep bruise starting around my eyes. The bruise was going to be ugly. But not as ugly as the McMurphy.

  There was little I could do to make fudge right now. Unless I went to Chicago. It felt like the universe was telling me to go, at least until after winter. I took Mal out for her early walk and walked by my poor hotel. Someone had thrown a large blue tarp over it. I made a note to remember to get ahold of Elmer and see what he could do to save what was left of the building.

  “Allie?”

  I turned to find Haley on the street. “Haley. What are you doing up this early?”

  “I like to walk just before dawn,” she said. “Sometimes I get inspired by the colors of the early morning. I like the silence, too. It�
��s like no one exists but you.”

  “Mal likes this time of day, too. Usually, we walk now, and then I start the fudge. But there’s a lot of debris between me and my fudge table.”

  “It must be hard seeing a dream die.”

  “It’s not dead yet,” I said.

  “I heard through the grapevine that your little dog Mal is good at finding things,” Haley said.

  “She is,” I said. I glanced down at my pup fondly. “She could be a hound with her nose. Or with all these mysteries, maybe she’s more like Scooby-Doo.”

  I looked up to see that Haley was pointing a gun at me. “What are you doing?” I asked, shocked.

  “Come with me,” she said. “Don’t scream, don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself, or I will shoot your dog first.” The gun went to Mal.

  “Okay,” I said. I put up my hands, my heart racing. “Where are we going?”

  “You’re going to take me to the gold.”

  “What?”

  “You found my uncle’s gold. You’re going to take me to it.”

  “I can’t—it’s in evidence lockup,” I said. “You didn’t need to pull a gun on me. I would have told you that.”

  “Keep walking,” she said. “Show me where you found my uncle’s bag.”

  Mal and I took her to the spot in the scrub. It wasn’t far from St. John’s. “Mal found it in the bushes here.” I pointed to the spot a few yards off the road. “Rex found the body a little farther in there. But again, you didn’t have to pull a gun on me. I would have told you.”

  She walked over to the spot where the bag had been and kicked at the leaves. “You wouldn’t have told me about the gold.”