Fudge Bites Page 7

  His deep laugh reverberated through my spine. I hugged him back, then stepped away. “I received three quotes for the job.”

  “Ha, where did you get the other two? Off island?”

  “You’re not the only contractor on Mackinac.”

  “But we are the only ones you’ve worked with before, and you were satisfied by the job we did. As all our customers are.”

  “Why is it that construction workers measure twice, cut once, but when you get a quote, you should double the time and add a third to the price?” I teased him. Elmer loved to haggle. That was in his blood as well, I suspect, but Papa Liam had taught me how to haggle, too. It was a skill I was glad to have.

  “Now, now. We came in on budget this spring.”

  “But two weeks over the time,” I pointed out. “The only reason you came in on budget is because I helped strip the floors and put up wallpaper.”

  “You had nothing better to do.” He went over to his big desk, sat behind it, and pulled out a contract and two pens. “We’re going to create the best rooftop deck in all of Mackinac.”

  “I have permits to remodel the second-floor guest rooms, too,” I said. “But I only have money for half of what you quoted. I figured you could give me a discount if I put up a sign on the rooftop deck letting everyone know you created it. You could make the plaque in bronze. Think of it as a lifetime of free advertising.”

  “Five hundred off for a lifetime of free advertising,” he said. “That’s all I can offer.”

  “Fifteen hundred, or I’ll go to my second choice.”

  “I don’t believe you have a second choice,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “Eight hundred.”

  “Two thousand dollars off, and I’ll cater your daughter’s wedding.”

  “How did you know about Hazel?”

  “It’s a small island,” I said. “And Sandy Everheart works for me. She would do an amazing chocolate sculpture.” I didn’t tell him that Sandy was leaving. I had my fingers crossed that he hadn’t heard it yet.

  “Hazel does love Sandy’s sculptures.”

  “Come on,” I said. “I know you don’t have much work now that winter is coming.”

  “It’s only October. There’s a lot of winterizing and other work to do around the island.” He shrugged. “Besides, I like the slower winter months. I get to go ice fishing and snowmobiling.”

  “Fine,” I stood. “Maybe next year, I’ll get you to quote my third-floor remodel.”

  “You’re going to redo the McMurphy from head to toe?”

  “All of it,” I said. “It’s too bad you only did the lobby. I’ll go to Augusta Hammer. She underbid you the first time around. I’m sure she and her crew will be excited to have a remodel on Main Street, where they can advertise with a sign in my window.”

  “Augusta Hammer has only been in the construction business for five years. You need an expert to do that roof remodel.”

  “She has a civil engineer on staff with fifteen years of experience.”

  “If you’re talking about Robert Packs, he worked for me first. I taught him everything he knows before he jumped ship and went over to Augusta’s place.”

  “I came to you first,” I pointed out. “It’s not my fault you weren’t in a bargaining mood. I only have a few profits left. I want to spend them wisely.” I turned to go.

  “All right, all right. I can’t let anyone but the best remodel the McMurphy. We’ll do it for fifteen hundred off and you cater my daughter’s wedding. Deal?”

  “You drive a tough bargain,” I said, but I stuck out my hand. “Deal.”

  I walked out of the building happy to know they would be starting on the roof remodel on Wednesday. My bank account was also a thousand dollars lighter, but I was ready to take the risk.

  At least this much was going right in my life. I was halfway home when I saw Mella strolling down the street. “Mella?” I called. She stopped and looked at me over her shoulder and meowed. Then she walked faster away. Was it a different cat? “Mella, what are you doing out?” I hurried after. The cat took me for a merry chase before finally slowing down enough for me to catch up.

  Yes, it was Mella, after all. A mom knew her fur babies. Plus, I had put a collar on Mella when I first brought her inside the hotel, and now that I was close up, I could see the pink of the collar peeking out through her fur. It had her name printed on it. I didn’t want to give her metal tags, which would rattle and make it difficult for her to be her sneaky self, but a name and phone number were important in case she ever got lost. Or someone decided she needed picking up.

  “Come here, you little scamp,” I said and snagged her. She snuggled against me and meowed. “How did you get out? I’m not sure it’s safe for you to be this far away from home.”

  “Is that your cat?” It was Haley Manx. She was dressed in a tight black tee shirt and black leggings under a flowing, rainbow-colored skirt. “She’s quite lovely.”

  “Yes, this is Carmella,” I said as Haley reached over and petted her. “She doesn’t usually stray this far from the McMurphy.” I was still two roads up the hill from Main Street.

  “My studio is right here,” Haley said, pointing to a small purple guesthouse with white trim. Large, leafless lilac bushes stood in front of the door. A series of three pumpkins carved with intricate, fantastical Halloween scenes sat on the tiny porch. “Why don’t you come in and have some tea?”

  “Sounds wonderful.” I followed her into the tiny shop. There were two rooms in the front. One was a small parlor with a settee and two chairs, all covered in blue and white florals. The room across from it was her studio. It was filled with pots, plates, and all manner of pottery in various stages. Her potter’s wheel sat near the corner, where sunlight streamed in from two sides. “This is lovely.”

  “It’s just enough for me,” she said with a smile. “There’s a nice little kitchen for making tea and serving guests. Sometimes, I have evening wine tasting and showings. People like it.”

  “Do you live here?” I asked, a bit confused. I thought she was married to Rick. There didn’t seem to be more than four rooms. The two in front, two in back and a tiny bathroom in the middle.

  “Oh, no, not anymore,” she said. “This used to be my place before I married Rick. I’ve kept it for the shop.” I followed her into the tiny kitchen and watched her put a teakettle on to boil. “It’s close enough to Main Street that I get fudgies wandering in.”

  “You mentioned pottery lessons the other day.” I watched her take down two mugs and a tin filled with lavender tea.

  “Yep. Most of them are at the senior center.”

  “What about places besides at the senior center? Frances, my office manager, thinks I spend too much time with old people.”

  She laughed and led me out to the living area. “Please, sit.” The kettle went off in the kitchen, and she headed back in for a minute before coming out and pouring hot water in both mugs. “You don’t have to go to the senior center. I can give you lessons here.”

  I put Mella down to explore and picked up the tea. “That would be great. Apparently, I need to get out more.”

  “I get that,” Haley said, settling into one of the two flowered chairs. “Have you ever worked in clay?”

  “I think I made a soap dish in high school art class . . .”

  “Perfect.”

  “How much for lessons?”

  “For you . . . bring wine, and all you have to do is pay for your clay and such. I’ll donate the time.”

  “Oh, I don’t want you to see me as a charity.”

  “No, really, you’ll be doing me a favor. You’re quite popular on the island, you know.”

  “I am?” She must have been kidding. I knew that most still considered me an outsider.

  “Yes, you are,” she said. “And if people hear you’re taking pottery lessons from me, then they’ll want pottery lessons, too—so you see, I’m quite selfish in asking you to take them.”

  “I thi
nk that’s nonsense, but I’m not going to turn down free lessons. When can I start?”

  “As soon as you would like,” she said. “I’ve got to make a clay run off the island, though. What would you like to make first?”

  “I think a pair of mugs might be easy. Or maybe a bowl?”

  “A pair of mugs it is,” she said with a smile. “I’ll pick up some good quality clay for mug throwing.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to throw them—unless they’re awful, of course. I’d really like to keep them.” She laughed again, a lovely sound that made me smile. “What?”

  “I don’t mean throwing as in ‘throwing them against a wall.’ When you make something on a pottery wheel, it’s called throwing the pot.”

  “Oh.” I felt the heat of embarrassment rush into my cheeks. “I told you I made a soap dish, tight? I don’t think there was a pottery wheel involved. Although there might have been some literal throwing around of clay.”

  Mella jumped up in my lap. She pawed at me a few times, playing a little patty cake with my thigh before snuggling down in my lap.

  “Someone knows how to get comfortable,” Haley said with a tip of her tea cup toward the cat.

  “She’s the best cat ever. That reminds me, did you get out for the Walking Red zombie walk?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “I love a good zombie walk. I also earned five hundred dollars toward the American Heart Association. I assume you walked?”

  “Well, I tried,” I said. “Mella and I found Anthony before I could actually do the walk, but I was dressed the part. Lucky for me, my sponsors felt sorry for me and donated anyway. I made one fifty.”

  “Not bad for not walking.”

  “I think it was a consolation for finding a dead man in the alley.”

  “That is a pretty unique find—even with all the zombies running around.”

  Chapter 7

  Mella and I left Haley’s art studio full of tea and laughter. Well, the cat had less of the tea. I was excited for my lessons, too, which Haley said I could start in the next few days. I thought about the mugs I would make, and how I would share a cup of hot cocoa with someone later this winter once the mugs were made. I decided to create blue mugs with white snowflakes.

  A glance at the time on my phone told me I had only ten minutes before I was scheduled to meet Liz at the Nag’s Head to see if we could get some insight into Anthony’s last moments. I rushed home, dropped Mella off in my apartment, gave Mal a treat and put her in her crate, and headed out. Knowing my pets were safely locked up freed my mind to think about Anthony.

  The Nag’s Head Bar and Grill was intentionally divey. It sat on Main Street with its back to the water. The interior was dark wood, a large, nineteenth century bar with just a few tables for customers. In the back were two pool tables and a door that opened out to a deck over the water. On the deck was a second bar, and that was where I found Liz.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said as I gave her a hug. “I ran into Haley Manx. Do you know her?”

  “Sure,” Liz said, walking me to the bar. We climbed up on two empty stools. “She does pottery, right?”

  “Yes, I’m thinking of taking lessons.”

  Liz gave me the side-eye. “Why?”

  “We discussed this,” I said. “I need to get out more.”

  “Pottery lessons are not the way to meet people.” Liz waved down the bartender. He was a tan man with blond hair and blue eyes. He had a casual beach look that suggested he spent a lot of time on the water.

  “What can I do for you, ladies?”

  I studied the drink menu. “It’s a little early for alcohol. I might have an iced tea.”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he said with a wink. “How about a chardonnay?”

  I pondered for a moment. “Okay,” I said, putting down the menu.

  “Make that two,” Liz said. He moved away to fill our drink orders. “That’s Justin,” Liz said. “You start the conversation. Otherwise, it will feel like I’m interviewing him for an article.”

  “But everyone knows I investigate crimes . . .”

  “He’s a good-looking, single guy, and you’re cute. He won’t be thinking about your sleuthing.”

  “Fine.”

  “Great,” she said. She leaned back. “I was thinking we should have a girls’ weekend, not just girls’ night. We could go wine tasting, get facials, fun stuff like that.”

  “I’m in,” I said. “It’s been a long season.”

  Justin came back with our drinks. “Here you go, ladies.”

  “Thanks,” I said and took a sip. “Good choice. You know, we’re actually thinking of doing a girls’ weekend with wine tasting. Do you know of any good places to go?”

  His eyes twinkled at me as he leaned on the counter. “There’s this winery near Traverse City that makes cherry wine. Pretty good stuff.”

  I sipped my wine, floundering for how to start the conversation about Anthony. “Have you ever gone on a girls’—er, I mean, guys’ weekend there?”

  “My friends and I would go for the weekend sometimes. There’s a couple of good places to fish around there in the summer. Have I seen you somewhere before?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Were you at the zombie walk?” he asked.

  There was my chance. “I planned on going, but something came up. It sounded like a lot of fun. Did you go?”

  “Yeah,” he said. Then his expression sobered. “Then I found out that my friend Anthony had died.”

  “I heard he was murdered,” I said. “Liz is doing a story on the investigation.”

  She sent me the stink eye.

  “Yeah,” Justin said. “I read the first story. I hope they catch the guy who did this.”

  “Were you with Anthony that night?” Liz asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Steve and I were hanging out with Anthony. Then his mom called, and he left to go meet her.” He paused and wiped his eyes. “Guess he never got there.”

  “Do you have any idea who would do such a thing?” I asked.

  “That’s the thing,” he said. “Anthony was a great guy. Everyone loved him. If I find out who did this before the cops do, the guy had better watch out.”

  “I understand there was another guy at the zombie walk that had a costume similar to Anthony’s.” Liz pulled a picture up on her phone. “Do you remember this guy?”

  Justin studied the picture for a moment. “Yeah, sure. We commented on how he was wearing the same suit. But his makeup was subpar, you know? We had a guy do ours who’s heading out to Hollywood to do movie makeup.”

  “You’re a bartender here. I bet you know practically everyone. Do you know who the other guy was?”

  “No,” he said. “But then, I didn’t really try. I mean, it was lame, right?” He frowned and looked at Liz. “Do you think it’s important?”

  “Not necessarily,” Liz hedged.

  “We think there’s a chance Anthony was killed by mistake,” I said, ignoring the look Liz gave me. “That means this other guy might be in danger. If you figure out who it was, would you let Rex know?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Anything that might help catch the killer.” He left to take an order from three men who walked into the bar.

  I turned to Liz. “Well, that wasn’t as helpful as I had hoped. Do you think Steven might know who the guy is?”

  “There’s a chance,” she said. She finished her wine. “I’ll go see if I can talk to him.”

  “I’d come with you, but I need to get back to the McMurphy. Frances is with Maggs, and Mr. Devaney gets grumpy if he has to do my job as well as his.”

  “I’ll keep you posted on what, if anything, I learn from Steve.”

  “Great,” I said. “Could you send me those pictures, too? I’d like to look at them some more.”

  “Sure.” She pulled out her phone. With a few taps of her screen, she said, “Done.”

  We left a big tip on the bar and
walked out. I thought about Justin and his beautiful eyes. Maybe getting a drink at the bar on occasion wasn’t a bad thing.

  * * *

  “Allie, thank goodness I’ve found you,” Mrs. Tunisian said as I rounded the corner of Main Street toward the McMurphy.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. Mrs. Tunisian wore a tracksuit in turquoise and new running shoes. She looked like she was out for some casual afternoon exercise.

  “It’s Maggs. She’s beside herself with grief. We don’t know what to do. Frances said to get you and have you stop at Doud’s to pick up some ready-made meals.”

  “I don’t need ready-made meals,” I said. “I make a mean lasagna.” I picked up my pace to match the older woman’s power stride. “I’ll grab things from Doud’s and then head over to Maggs’s place. Is Frances with her?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Tunisian said. “Bring some cat food as well, if you don’t mind. Maggs has two beautiful kitties that need as much care as she does. The whole house is upside down with grief. We’ve all done our best, but we can’t seem to knock her out of this. Frances thinks that you can help calm Maggs by telling her you’ll solve the murder.”

  “Well, I can bring food, but I don’t know about solving the murder.”

  “It’s okay dear, we know you can do it. Maggs is counting on you.”

  Great.

  I texted Mr. Devaney and asked him to watch the McMurphy for a few more hours than expected because Frances asked me to go see Maggs. He texted back quickly: Okay.

  Then I texted Frances and let her know that I was coming over with ingredients to make a meal.

  Mary Emry was working at Doud’s again. She looked up from her tabloid magazine as I walked into the store.

  “You here to find another body?” she asked.

  Mary was tall, with brown hair and blue eyes. She rarely spoke to anyone but locals. I stopped for a moment and took in the fact that she was talking to me. I guess I was beginning to be seen as a local.

  “I’m going to make Maggs a casserole,” I said. I gathered noodles, sauce, and cheese to make Grandma Alice’s lasagna recipe as well as some cat food for Maggs’s kitties. I didn’t like the idea of pets missing out on their regular meals. I put my items on the counter.