All I Want For Christmas is Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes Book 4) Read online

  My cell phone rang as if on cue. I wiggled my eyebrows at Allie and answered it. “Hello?”

  “Jennifer Christensen?” a deep male voice said.

  “Yes,” I said, and smiled at Allie. “Is this Officer Manning?”

  “Yes,” he said. “We have ID’d the victim.”

  “Yes, I heard,” I said.

  “Figures,” Rex muttered. “Did Shane tell you?”

  I bit my bottom lip. “No, Shane isn’t talking to me.”

  “Tell him it’s a small island.” Allie leaned her hip on the corner of the desktop.

  “Allie says it’s a small island,” I said. “I’m putting you on speaker.” I hit the speaker button and set my phone down on the desk. “I don’t know a Tim Slater,” I said. “Is that why you called?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Are you certain you don’t know the victim?”

  “Positive,” I said. “Who was he?”

  “He was a winemaker,” Rex replied, “from New York State.”

  “Huh,” I said, leaning my elbows on the desk. “Who would want to kill a winemaker?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out,” Rex said. “Right now you are the closest thing to a person of interest we have.”

  “That is ridiculous,” Allie stated. “Shane isn’t talking to her.”

  “Which only strengthens the motive,” Rex said. How he could say such an outrageous thing without chuckling was beyond me.

  “Please,” I said with a snort.

  “How did he die?” Allie asked. “Was it exposure? If he was at the pub crawl last night, he could have wandered off and died.”

  “Except for the bashed-in part of his temple,” I said, and pursed my lips. “Rex, do you really think I would dent some random guy’s head just to get Shane’s attention?”

  “Don’t leave the island,” Rex warned.

  “It’s Christmas vacation, Rex,” I said as cheerfully as possible. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “See that you don’t.” He hung up.

  I looked at Allie. “He’s not serious.”

  “Rex is always serious,” Allie said. “Do you have a search engine open on your computer?”

  “Yes,” I said, and typed in Tim Slater. The victim’s picture came up, along with a Web site for Sara’s Vineyard. “Wow, he was kind of cute.”

  Allie moved to where she could see my laptop screen. “The vineyard is along Lake Erie in New York State, near the Pennsylvania border.”

  “There are a ton of vineyards there,” I said. “A friend and I once took Highway Five along the lake and stopped at all the wineries for tastings. It was a blast.”

  “So you might have met our victim,” Allie mused.

  I made a face. “I certainly hope not.” A thought came to me. “You know, a guy from New York State doesn’t necessarily travel to Mackinac by himself.”

  “Unless he’s a serious runner and came for the race,” Allie said.

  I sent her a look. “No serious runner comes to Mackinac for the Santa Fun Run, gets drunk, and dies in a snowbank.”

  “True.” Allie looked at me. “Where did you find him, again?”

  “I found him before the four-mile mark of the trail near Griffin Cove.”

  “Was he on the lake side of Lake Shore Drive or the hill side?”

  “The hill side,” I said. “Why?”

  “Want to go for a walk?” Allie’s eyes sparkled. I could tell she was onto something.

  “Sure,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  “To see what’s at the top of the hill,” Allie said.

  Walking through three feet of snow in the woods is a better workout than jogging along the well-plowed trail. I huffed and puffed as we moved through the wooded parcels of land that held random cottages old and new.

  “How close are we to where you found him?” Allie asked.

  We stood on the top of a ridge. I looked out at the cove. You could see the trail beneath us. The trees were bare; their trunks and roots buried in snow. In some places the snow was less thick and boulders stuck out.

  “It’s kind of hard to tell,” I said, and tried to slow my heavy breathing. I hugged my side. “I think it’s beneath us right now, based on the cove outline.”

  Suddenly we heard a loud thrashing noise and a giant golden retriever came bounding toward us. He stopped a few feet away and made a play bow, barking the entire time.

  “Well, hello there,” I said. “Aren’t you handsome?” I held out my hand for the dog to sniff. He came right up to me, unafraid. I rubbed his head. “Are you lost?”

  “He doesn’t look lost,” Allie said. “He has a collar and tags.”

  The dog licked my face and I couldn’t help the giggle that came out. I hugged the dog and then reached down to read the name on the silver jewelry that hung from his collar. The name Marley was engraved on a rectangle that resembled a military ID. “Hello, Marley,” I said.

  “His name is on the tag?” Allie asked.

  “Yes, and so is an address.” I read the address and looked at Allie. “It says to contact Sara’s Vineyard.”

  “Oh, boy,” Allie said.

  I gave the dog a few more pats. “Are you here with your owner, Marley?” I asked. “Want to show us where you’re staying?”

  The dog barked and ran off a few feet, then turned to see if we were coming. Allie and I exchanged looks and slogged after the dog, who seemed to be happy to have us follow him through the woods and the snow. About one hundred feet past the cliff, we saw a cabin. The door was wide open. There were several old footprints going in and out. These were mostly indents in the snow. It had snowed two inches overnight, but whoever made the tracks was heavy enough to make deep tracks so that the two inches didn’t blot them out.

  “Wow,” I said. Marley went into the house and came back out, sat on the threshold, and barked at us.

  “Do you think he’ll let us inside?” Allie asked.

  “I think so,” I said. “Golden retrievers are usually not overly protective.” Allie didn’t know much about dogs. Mal was her first pet and she was still learning about the good, the bad, and the ugly ways of canines. I smiled at Marley. “Good boy,” I said. As we got close, he jumped up and went inside, coming back out with a giant red-and-beige candy cane replica made out of rawhide. “Well, someone is looking after him.”

  “Yeah, that candy cane looks pretty fresh,” Allie admitted. “Hello?” she called as we approached the open door. Silence answered her.

  I stepped up to the threshold and took the rawhide out of Marley’s mouth and tossed it for him to fetch. The friendly pup was game for the chase and tore off after the treat. “You go in. I’ll stay here and distract the dog.”

  “Okay,” Allie said. She pushed past me and stepped over the threshold. “Hello, the house? Is anyone home?”

  The cabin was a three-story rambling home that looked like it had been built in stages of additions over the years. The siding was rough cedar shingles, with green trim and shutters. The stoop was made of stone. Marley came running back to me with the candy cane in his mouth. He dropped it at my feet as if to say, Throw it again!

  So I did. I chucked it as far as I could in the opposite direction of the footprints in the snow. The last thing I wanted was to make a mess of a crime scene—if this was indeed a crime scene and not just a case of some drunken Santa who had forgotten to close his cabin door.

  “The place is empty,” Allie said as she came back outside. “But there’s a couple of wineglasses with Sara’s Vineyard engraved on them on the counter and some bottles of pinot, also from Sara’s Vineyard. This may be where our victim was staying.”

  “What should we do?”

  “I’m calling Rex,” Allie said. She hit a button on her cell phone.

  “You have him on speed dial?” I asked.

  “Yes, I have since I first got to the island,” Allie said. “It’s come in very handy.” She raised her hand to signal to me that she was distracted
from our conversation. “Hi, Rex, it’s Allie. We’re at 855 Pine Lane. We found a dog named Marley home alone and a cabin with its door wide open. We think . . . Oh, Jenn’s here with me. We think this might be where the victim was staying.” She paused as if listening. “Okay, we’ll wait here and I promise not to go back inside.” She hit END on her phone. “Rex is sending Officer Charles Brown up to check it out. He says he might have found someone the victim traveled with.”

  “Oh, good,” I said, and hugged the dog as he returned and dropped the rawhide at my feet. “This guy shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  “Looks like he’d rather play than chew on that rawhide,” Allie said.

  “He really likes to play fetch,” I said. “Don’t you, boy? You are a beautiful puppy.” I petted him and ruffled his fur, then threw the rawhide in the opposite direction of the footprints. Marley went after it. “Plus, I figured we should try to keep the dog from messing with the crime scene. Shane would appreciate it, anyway.”

  Just mentioning his name got me all choked up. Allie put an arm around me and said, “Don’t worry, hon. He’ll come around.”

  I wiped the tears from my eyes before they could stain my cheeks. Collecting myself, I said, “Do you think our victim was visiting with his parents?”

  “I don’t know,” Allie said. “I don’t remember seeing too many older couples on the island for the Fun Run. But there didn’t seem to be any evidence of a bunch of guys in the house.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Allie sent me a thoughtful look. “Usually, if there’s a bunch of men staying at a lake house, there’d be beer cans and snack bowls and hamburger wrappers strewn around. All I saw inside was a closed suitcase in the bedroom and two wineglasses and a half-empty bottle of wine, plus a couple of full bottles.”

  “Sounds like he came with his wife or girlfriend,” I said.

  “Yeah, that’s the impression I got.”

  “Tim’s not local, so they must have rented the cabin.”

  “Or the girlfriend or wife owns it.”

  I made a face. “Can you imagine learning your husband or boyfriend was found in a snowbank with his head bashed in?”

  “No,” Allie said, hugging herself. “I hope I never have to. . . .”

  “Yeah,” I said as Marley raced back toward us. His expression looked like a full grin as he bounded through the snow with the candy cane in his mouth. “What a good boy!” I exclaimed. The sound of snowmobiles could be heard in the distance. Marley dropped the candy cane and took off in the direction of the sound. “Oh, boy, I hope Charles is ready for a one-hundred-and-twenty-pound playful dog jumping on him.”

  “I told Rex we found the dog,” Allie said with a twinkle in her eye. “It’s not our fault if they aren’t prepared for an enthusiastic greeting.”

  “Yow!” The shout made us both turn in the direction of the snowmobiles. Then there was laughter. Charles Brown and Officer Kelsey Lasko came around the cabin on their vehicles. Charles, who was a tall man with wide shoulders, a square jaw, and a patrician nose, had a giant dog in his lap. Even though Charles was a sizeable guy, Marley was still far too large to be a lapdog. The sight made us both laugh out loud.

  I waved them down and they cut their engines. Marley leapt off Charles’s lap and bounded toward me with his tongue hanging out. I had forgotten I had the rawhide in my hand until he tried to snag it from me. “Whoa!” I said. “No, you need to fetch.” I threw the rawhide and the dog went after it.

  “That dog is messing up the crime scene,” Officer Lasko said. She flipped her visor up and removed her helmet. “We’d better catch him and put him on a leash.” Officer Lasko was a pretty, petite blonde about the same age as Allie and I were, but for some reason she didn’t like Allie—not one bit. I suspected it was because Officer Lasko had a thing for the handsome Rex Manning, and Rex, well, everyone knew he had a thing for Allie. The trouble was Allie was dating the heartbreakingly handsome Trent Jessop. If Rex had any eyes in his head, he’d take Officer Lasko out to dinner and maybe tensions would ease up a bit.

  “I’ve been throwing the rawhide away from the door and the footprints,” I said. “We were as careful as possible with the scene.”

  Marley came bounding back toward me with the rawhide in his mouth. He stopped a few feet from me, turned, and headed straight to Officer Lasko.

  “Watch out!” Allie called, but it was too late. Marley knocked Officer Lasko down, pinned her shoulders, and licked her face.

  I winced, expecting screams, but instead I heard laughter. The sound was clear and happy and made me smile. I looked at Allie and she looked at me. We both were surprised and delighted by Officer Lasko’s reaction.

  Charles went over and pulled the big, sweet dog off his partner. His chuckle joined Officer Lasko’s, Allie’s, and mine. Officer Lasko’s face registered nothing but joy when she sat up. “Okay, okay,” she said. “You don’t have to be leashed.”

  Marley licked her face one more time. She patted his head and ruffled his neck.

  “His tag says his name is Marley,” I said. “His address is Sara’s Vineyard—the same as our murder victim.”

  Officer Lasko’s expression cooled. “Right,” she said, and stood. “Well, Marley, we’re not here to play. If this is the cabin where Tim Slater stayed, how did you find it?”

  “Jenn and I were out for a walk when Marley showed up. We followed him here.”

  “You mean you were out investigating,” Charles said. He took Marley by the collar and walked him over to a dog run, which was built beside the cabin. “There you go, boy. This should keep you out of trouble for a bit.” He put the dog in the run and latched the gate.

  “You need to learn to stay out of the way of police investigations,” Officer Lasko said to Allie. She gave us both the evil eye and then went up to the stoop. “Who went inside?”

  “I went in,” Allie said to Officer Brown. “The door was open and we needed to see if everything was all right.”

  “People don’t just let a beautiful dog like Marley run around unsupervised,” I said. “It’s cold out here. Marley could have been hurt.”

  “We’ll take it from here,” Officer Lasko said; then she called into the house, “Police, is anyone home?”

  “The place is empty,” Allie said as Officer Brown walked up to the stoop.

  “I know, but it’s procedure to announce before we enter. I’m going to need to take a statement from you both.” He looked at me with his gorgeous dark green eyes. “I’ve called Shane. If this is part of the murder scene, he needs to process it.”

  “That’s fine with me,” I said with a fast smile. “I’m always happy to see him.”

  “Does he know that?” Charles asked.

  “I certainly hope so,” I said, shoving my hands in the pockets of my ski coat.

  “Maybe it would be a good idea if you found the time to tell him.” Charles gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret and followed Officer Lasko into the house.

  “What was that all about?” I asked Allie.

  “I don’t know,” she said, and put her arm through mine. “But I’m a good investigator and I intend to find out.”

  Chapter 4

  “The girlfriend’s name is Eliza Bond,” Allie said as she entered the office, where Mella and I worked on a cash-flow projection for my business plan. It was nice to have kitty company. I wondered if Allie would let me bring her back to Chicago with me until spring.

  “Do you know her?” I asked as I set aside the folder for the fund-raising event we held in the park during the Lilac Festival.

  “Frances knows her family,” Allie said as she sat down on her office chair with a whump. “The Bonds have owned the cabin for over a hundred years. They’ve added on several times over the decades. The onetime one-room cabin now has five bedrooms and five baths. According to town scuttlebutt, Tim and Eliza were staying at the cabin with Marley.”

  “Wow, some cottage,” I said, and rested my
elbow on the desk and put my head in my hand. “You look tired. I thought you fulfilled all your orders.”

  “I did, but we’re four days from Christmas and I’ve gotten fifty more orders today, all paying for express shipping to ensure the fudge arrives by the holiday.”

  “That’s great, but fifty orders is a lot to accomplish in four days.”

  “I know,” Allie said. “And believe me, I welcome the business. But I came up to put a note up on the Web site that we’re closed to Christmas orders for the year to deter any more last-minute shoppers. I can put some orders out for the New Year, but I need a little rest.”

  “That’s a good thing,” I said. “The weatherman is predicting a blizzard starting tomorrow night. You may not get anything shipped if it’s not out by the early afternoon.”

  “Ugh,” Allie said. “Want to help make fudge?”

  “Sure,” I said. “But I’m no candy maker. You should call Sandy in to help.” Sandy Everheart was a local chef who had studied chocolate in New York. However, shortly after getting her chocolatier degree, she’d returned to Mackinac Island to be with her ailing grandmother. Allie had hired Sandy to help with last summer’s tourist season.

  I liked Sandy. She was a wizard with chocolate and an artist. She could create the most beautiful centerpieces with her edible sculptures. Allie had been so happy with her work that she let Sandy rent out the fudge shop kitchen to do work when it wasn’t in use. I hoped to do the same by renting half of Allie’s business office for myself come spring, when my contract with Eve’s was up.

  “I already contacted Sandy,” Allie said. “She’s downstairs working right now. I needed a break. You can’t push through on fudge making. If you’re tired, it shows in the quality of the candy.”

  “Oh, good, two chefs are better than one,” I said. “I’ll be happy to box and pack and ship for you.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Allie said. She reached up and stroked Mella. Then she leaned toward me and put her arms on the top of her desk. “Frances knows Eliza Bond and her family. I got Frances to invite Eliza over for free condolence coffee and fudge.”