Fudge Bites Page 6

  “We should go,” Frances said. “But we’ll be back to help in the morning. Congrats again on getting the permits.” She hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I knew they were itching to be home and enjoying their Sunday evening as newlyweds. It was kind of them to come up for champagne.

  “Congrats,” Mr. Devaney said. “You realize you just made my job harder, right?”

  “I’m sure you can handle it.” I closed and locked the door behind them. I was going to get my rooftop deck. Money was going to be a bit tight, but I was certain it would all be worth it in the end. I cleaned up the kitchen and texted Jenn to share the good news.

  She answered with Congrats! When she didn’t text more, I knew she must be busy with something for her new job. So I poured the final glass of champagne and sat on the couch with my pets beside me and toasted to myself. One thing was for sure: People would come and go, but my fur babies would never leave me.

  There was a knock on my back door. It was Liz. “Hey,” I said as I opened the door. “Come on in.”

  “I was going to text you,” she said as she came in, carrying a tablet computer. “But then I thought, what the heck? I’d just see if you were home.” She glanced at my glass of champagne. “Are you busy?”

  “No, come on in.” I opened the door wide. “Frances and Mr. Devaney just left. This is the last of the champagne, but I have a nice cabernet. Can I get you some?”

  “That would be great,” she said. She walked through the kitchen into the living room and greeted Mal with a few pats on the head. “I’m sorry, I should have called first. I guess I got excited and ended up here. Why the champagne?”

  “I was able to get the permits to start work on the rooftop deck.” I poured her a glass of cabernet sauvignon and handed it to her, waving for her to sit. “It was a nice win, especially considering the mayor isn’t all that happy with me. I’m really glad for the company. What has you all excited? Do you have news?”

  She laughed and sat down in Papa Liam’s chair. “I was going over the pictures we took at the Walking Red walk, and I thought I saw our victim.”

  “But you were with me when we found him dead.”

  “Yes, but I was taking pictures for an hour before,” she said, turning on her tablet. She scrolled through the pictures. There were shots of different people in costumes posing for the camera and random crowd shots as well. “See? Look at the crowd shots. Here’s that suit coat he was wearing.” She turned the tablet to me. I studied it.

  “Yes, that looks like Anthony’s suit coat. Can you tell who he was with?”

  “It’s hard to really tell,” she said as we looked through the crowd shots. “Here he is with Justin Alders and Steve Radick. But in these shots, he seems to be with someone else.”

  “Stop,” I said, studying the pictures. “Those are two different people.”

  “No, they’re not,” she said. She took the tablet from me and blew up the photos. “Wait. You’re right. They are different. They could both be Anthony, though.” She looked at me. “This one with the stranger has lighter hair. Maybe it’s a trick of the light?”

  “I don’t think so. The two guys are with different people, too, although I’m not sure which one is Anthony,” I said. “Look, this guy seems to be constantly with Justin and Steve. While this guy is with . . . is that a girl?” It looked like the second person was with someone who wanted to keep very close, and I noticed something else. “This one looks like it might be pregnant. It’s hard to tell because of the zombie makeup and torn, baggy clothes. But still . . .”

  “Well,” Liz said. “I could see that, so maybe they are female.”

  “And look at this other guy in the corner of the picture,” I said. “He seems very upset about Anthony and this girl. Oh, wait, it doesn’t really matter.”

  “No?”

  “No, look. I’m pretty sure this one isn’t Anthony. See? This looks like the sleeve of Anthony’s coat.” I pointed to a tiny spot in the picture that held a man’s elbow.

  She looked at it. “It could be anyone’s elbow.”

  “No, it has a patch on it. It’s like the guy in the main part of the picture, but it has a leather patch. I remember distinctly that Maggs recognized Anthony’s jacket because of a leather patch.”

  “Right. Okay, well, let’s see if we can distinguish which guy is which by the patches.”

  We looked through all of the pictures and put them into two categories. Finally, Liz said, “This guy, the one with the lighter hair, seems to be mostly with this woman, while Anthony is consistently with Justin and Steve. I think we need to visit with Justin and Steve.”

  “I agree,” I said. “But not tonight. It’s late. Thanks for sharing this with me.”

  “Sure. Before I go, though, let’s plot out how we’re going to talk to them.”

  “Okay,” I said, sitting back. “In the morning, I’m going to award the roof job to a contractor. After I do that, I can go with you to visit Justin and Steve.”

  “Justin works at the Nag’s Head,” Liz said. “We can go there around 3 P.M.”

  “Great. What about Steve?”

  “Steve and Anthony worked together at the Grander Hotel. He’s a talented chef.”

  “Who? Anthony or Steve?”

  “Steve, silly,” she said. “Anthony was a lawyer. Maggs put him through law school. She used to say she was investing in her retirement.”

  “Oh,” I said. My heart hurt for her anew. “That’s terrible. She won’t have any children to care for her when she’s older . . . well, she’s older now, but you get my meaning.”

  “I think she has a niece in Green Bay, so she should be okay when the time comes that she needs constant care.”

  “Come to think of it, there isn’t a nursing home on the island, is there?”

  “No, just the senior center. Once they need nursing care, they usually go to family or to Traverse City.”

  “I don’t want to think about Frances or Maggs needing nursing care. They seem so young.”

  “Yes, but in ten years they’ll be in their eighties. That’s prime time for nursing care.”

  “Speaking of, how’s your grandfather?” I asked. Liz’s grandfather, Angus McElroy, had been hospitalized with a stroke the month before. I liked Angus. He sometimes joked that he was nervous around me with so many old guys turning up dead. But I think he really liked the fact that I brought interesting news to the paper.

  “He’s doing well,” she said. Then she sobered a bit. “He’s not coming back to the island.” She looked from her wineglass to me. “The clinic doesn’t have good enough care.”

  “It must be so hard to leave him in Traverse City.”

  “He’s with my mother.” She sipped her wine. “I miss him, though.”

  “Have you considered closing the paper for the season? I think everyone would understand. You could continue the blog from below the bridge. I could feed you stories of what’s happening on the island.”

  “What, and miss your first winter here?” She shook her head with a resigned smile. “No, my place is here.” She glanced around. “I hear that Sandy got a big offer from the Grander Hotel.”

  “She did,” I said.

  “How’s that make you feel?”

  “I don’t want her to go, but I can’t pay what they can. Plus, they have a richer clientele who would pay for Sandy to design centerpieces and such for their events. She could be flying into Detroit or Chicago. I can’t expect her not to take the opportunity.”

  “So they’re going to let her run her own business?”

  “No, that’s the only shame. When she starts working there, she won’t have time.”

  “I wouldn’t take it,” Liz said, surprising me.

  “What? Why not?”

  “I like to own my own work. I wouldn’t want to give that up. And Sandy’s an artist. Artists should never sell out.”

  “I wish that were true, but she’s supporting her grandmother and several other family
members. That’s hard to do on the salary I pay her.”

  “Maybe, but she makes quite a bit on her own.”

  “Yes, and pays self-employment tax—she’s looking at a thirty-five percent tax rate. No, it’s better to work for someone else. You don’t have to worry about marketing to bring in clients, and you don’t have to pay so much in taxes.”

  “But then the Grander Hotel will make money off of her work, and eventually her name. I still wouldn’t take it. Won’t you miss her?”

  “I will,” I said. “I’ll miss her desperately. With Jenn gone, and now Sandy leaving, my connection to the community is dwindling. I missed you so much when you were gone for a whole month. I swear, if it weren’t for you and Sophie, I’d be really lonely. I mean, even Frances has Mr. Devaney now. They don’t have as much time for me as they used to—and I don’t blame them.”

  “What about Trent?”

  “What about him?” I asked with a shrug. “He and Paige are in Chicago for the winter. I get the occasional text, but out of sight, out of mind.”

  “Oh, I highly doubt that you are out of his mind. Didn’t he just send flowers? Doesn’t he text or call? Or are you two . . . you know.”

  “What?”

  “Sexy texting.”

  “Liz!”

  “Well, I had to ask. He’s a handsome man and you’re a pretty young woman.” I made a face at her, and she paused. “Unless you have your eye on someone else.”

  I felt the heat of a blush rush up my cheeks. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Oh, you are so old fashioned.”

  “Don’t laugh at me,” I said. “I do still have feelings for Trent, but I can’t let that get between me and my dream—and inheritance—of running the McMurphy.”

  “Oh my goodness, you’re far too young to lock yourself away all for an old family tradition. And what about Rex? Hmm? He’s right here on the island, and I happen to know for a fact that he likes you.”

  “He’s been busy. A man was murdered just yesterday.”

  “There are a couple of other guys who have their eye on you, too, you know. I think that Steve is one of them. You should go out on a date . . . on more than one date. The island is teeming with young guys who have families here and want to live here forever. They would be happy to help you with the McMurphy.”

  “Okay, not you, too! I really don’t need a matchmaker,” I said. “Frances was in here earlier today trying to convince me that I needed to get out more. I’m fine. I’m quite busy, actually. I’ve got the second-floor remodel going on, and now I’ve got to work on plans for the roof refurbish, too. Plus, I’m ramping up the fudge marketing for the holiday online sales and pulling together next season’s calendar.”

  “Well, aren’t you quite the busy bee,” Liz said with a lift of her glass. “I, on the other hand, am quite lonely now that Grandpa Angus is away. Here I was, hoping we could spend some time together doing cool Mackinac Island stuff. But if you are too busy . . .”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes,” I said, frowning at her. She started to laugh, the sound clear as the tone of a bell. “What?”

  “I got you good,” she said, lifting her glass again. “I propose that we meet on Mondays and Wednesdays for dinner. That way, we won’t go stir-crazy this winter. I can teach you card games, and you can teach me . . . What can you teach me?”

  “How to make fudge.”

  She laughed. “I don’t need to learn how to make fudge. I’d rather just buy it from you. We’ll work on something for you to teach me.”

  “I love the idea of girls’ nights, though. Let’s start with tomorrow. I’ll make us a nice pot of chili for dinner. You can bring the cards. But I have to warn you, I do go to bed early. I like to be up at five to get the fudge started and just in case I have a hotel guest who wants to check out early.”

  “Sounds great,” Liz said. “But first, we will meet with Steve and Justin and see what we can learn about Anthony and why someone might want to kill him.”

  “It wasn’t a robbery, was it?”

  “I don’t think anything was missing,” Liz said.

  “I remember that Anthony was still wearing a watch. If it were a robbery, they most likely would have taken that, right?”

  “Unless we somehow interrupted the robbery, he would have taken the watch,” Liz agreed.

  “Do you think it was a ‘he’ who killed Anthony?”

  “Well, I suppose it could be a ‘she.’ We’ll have to wait to see what Shane says about the blows to the head. Whether they were from someone taller than Anthony or shorter.”

  “There are tall women on Mackinac Island,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but Anthony was six feet tall. There are only the McCoy women who grow tall enough for a downward blow to someone of that height.”

  “I suppose knowing the trajectory of the blows would certainly help identify the killer. We can assume that the person wasn’t five foot two or under,” I said. “They would have to be able to reach Anthony’s head to bash it in, right?”

  “I would assume so,” she said. “So—a reasonably tall person bashed Anthony in the head for reasons unknown. We didn’t see anyone in the alley, right?”

  “Just my cat.”

  “Then, if we did interrupt the killer, they had to be very fast in leaving the alley.”

  “They could have gone into the back of the Old Tyme Photo Shop.”

  “We should ask Kim,” Liz said. “I happen to know she was working that night. She was telling me that a lot of people came in to get tintype pictures from the shop of themselves in zombie costume.” Liz stood and put her glass in the sink. “That gives us three people to talk to—Steve, Justin, and Kim. We can narrow down our search and find more leads by asking them the right questions.”

  “I’m glad you took those pictures of the crowd,” I said, walking her to the door. “Thanks for sharing them with me.”

  “No problem. I figured you have a good eye for these things. In fact, you’re the one who noticed that the coats were different, not me. I would have kept wondering who the woman was with Anthony. I’m glad to know that it was someone else with a similar costume.”

  I laughed. “Maybe that was the motive—women hate it when they show up somewhere wearing the same dress as someone else.”

  Liz laughed and shook her head. “On that note, I’m off.”

  “Are you okay to walk home alone?”

  “Sure, it’s not that far.”

  I winced. “A man was murdered four blocks from here. I think I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

  “What, so you can walk yourself back home alone in the dark from my place? That’s silly. I’ll be fine. I have the police station number on speed dial on my phone, and I’ll video the entire walk, okay?”

  “Let me call Rex—“

  “Oh goodness, no. Seriously it’s only a few blocks.” She leaned down and gave Mal a few goodbye pats.

  “Fine,” I said. “But stay on the phone with me, please.”

  She laughed. “Now you know how others feel about you walking around the island on your own. It’s perfectly safe, you know. The crime rate is very low.”

  “Except for the murders.”

  “Those are a recent phenomenon. I swear, before you came, the island was a sleepy little place. The news consisted mostly of what Mrs. Bashka’s cat was doing the night before.” She opened the door. “I should know. I grew up here. I think my grandfather did report on a missing persons case once. But the news was mostly about festivals and parades and who would be named Lilac Festival Queen.”

  I smiled. “Tell me the truth. Were you ever Lilac Festival Queen?”

  “Me? As if that was something I ever wanted to be,” she scoffed, opening the door. “I was on the court, though.” She shrugged. “There were only a handful of girls in my class. Someone had to step up to the plate.”

  When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she called me. Out of habit, I said hello into the phone w
hen I answered.

  She waved. “You can practically watch me walk home from up there.” She set off down the alley, then disappeared onto the road.

  “I can’t see you now,” I said.

  “I’m nearly at my door.”

  “I’m glad you live close.”

  I could hear her unlock her door and enter her place. “Alright, I’m home, and my place is locked up tight. Good night, Allie.”

  “I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” I said. I went inside with both of my fur babies. “I am curious if Justin or Steve can tell us anything about who might want to harm Anthony.”

  “Thanks for helping me decipher the photos,” she agreed. “My question is, why did Anthony leave Justin and Steve and go out—presumably alone—into the alley?”

  “Maybe he left with his killer,” I said thoughtfully. “How amazing would that be?”

  “So amazing, I’m sure Rex is all over that one already.”

  I sighed. “Of course, he would be.”

  Chapter 6

  The next morning went smoothly. I checked out my final guest and made two batches of fudge for the candy counter. Frances and Douglas had things well in hand, so I decided to walk to Faber Roofing near the airport. I had decided on Faber for the roof deck at the McMurphy, and I wanted to let them know in person that I chose them.

  Pete Faber was an old friend of my Papa Liam’s. He and his sons worked a construction business that took care of the old Victorian cottages and painted ladies–style buildings. They also helped build the new places along the biking path at the edge of the forests. Pete’s son Elmer owned the company now. He was my dad’s age, and his sandy hair was interspersed with gray. Elmer was a big man with wide shoulders and large hands that had worked with a hammer at construction his entire life.

  “Allie McMurphy,” Elmer said when I entered the office. “I heard you got the permits and the historical society’s blessing. How the heck did you manage that?”

  “People like Frances,” I said with a shrug while he came toward me and wrapped me in a big bear hug. Elmer’s ancestors were loggers and builders. He came by his muscular build through generations of hard work.