Fudge Bites Page 9

  “See!” Ethel said.

  “Okay, I believe you,” I said as Douglas dealt the next hand.

  There was a commotion at the door. I looked over to see several of the seniors gathering near the front of the building. “What’s happening?” Frances asked.

  “I’ll go find out.” I left them to their game. The front of the senior center was filled with windows. The seniors had gathered near the windows, and a few were still looking out while a small group were standing near a table. “What’s going on?”

  “Sally noticed a strange box near the door,” Mrs. Tunisian said. “She and Alice went out to look around and bring the box in.” She pointed, and I noticed the wooden box the ladies had put on the table near the door. Mr. Rucker was trying to pry it open with a crowbar.

  “Wait!” I shouted, pushing my way through the crowd. “Don’t touch that!”

  “Whyever not?” Mr. Rucker asked.

  “It might be a bomb.”

  “A bomb? Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, studying the box. “It looks like one of those man crates. Why would your first thought be bomb?”

  “I’m serious,” I said as I pushed the ladies back. “You don’t know who left that. It could be a bomb.” I knew from firsthand experience how serious a bomb could be.

  “Oh, my,” Alice Edson said. “I carried it in.”

  “Everyone get back,” I said. I dialed 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

  “Hi, Charlene,” I said into the phone.

  “Allie McMurphy. Who died?”

  “No one died,” I said. “Yet.”

  “What do you mean ‘yet’?”

  “There was a package left outside the senior center,” I said. I went over to listen to the box. “It doesn’t have any address label. I don’t hear any ticking, but things are digital now.”

  “You think it’s a bomb.”

  “Yes,” I said and the crowd took another step back—all except Mr. Rucker. He frowned at me.

  “Let me open it,” he said, waving the crowbar. “It’s probably some good whiskey.”

  “Tell him not to touch it,” Charlene said. “I’m contacting the officers on duty.”

  “She said don’t touch it,” I said, pulling him back.

  “Rex said to evacuate the senior center now!” Charlene said.

  “On it,” I said. I turned to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, we need to get out of the building now. Don’t panic, but leave in an orderly fashion as quickly as possible.”

  “At our age, nothing is quick,” Mrs. Tunisian said as she helped an elderly lady with a walker.

  “I’ll get the door,” I said, guiding several seniors to the side door near the back entrance. “Please, everyone leave.” I reached over, grabbed the fire alarm, and pulled it. The sound penetrated the noise of the card tournament. The men stood and started to escort the ladies out. Mr. Devaney and Frances helped a few of the slowest out of the building. I went to the box and ensured no one went out the front door. The chaos seemed to last forever. My heart raced. What if the box did contain a bomb? It might take out all of the seniors at any moment.

  Rex and Officer Pulaski arrived and assisted the last of the stragglers outside. “Are you getting them far away?” I asked Rex when he came back in after emptying the building.

  “Why are you still in the building?”

  “I wanted to make sure everyone stayed away from the box.” I felt my lips tremble. I had been near an explosion around the Fourth of July. I knew the power of a blast.

  “Is that the box?” he asked, nodding toward it.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, let’s get you out of here.” He put his arm around my shoulders and walked me quickly out through the door. I could see the seniors still trailing off across the parking lot and into the church that sat a block away.

  Rex and I were on the opposite side of the parking lot when the blast hit and the senior center went up in pieces. He dragged me to the ground and covered my body with his as pieces of wood, glass, and hot nails rained down on us.

  My ears rang from the sound of the explosion. After the initial blast, Rex pulled me up, and we ran to the church. Two senior ladies had been knocked from their feet near the front stairs. My hands shook as Rex and I helped them up and into the church. A second blast went off right as the church door closed behind us. Debris hit the front of the church and I ducked, an automatic reaction. Some of the older ladies screamed.

  Frances and Mr. Devaney comforted some of the other seniors. I looked at Rex. Suddenly, my heart clenched in panic. “Where’s Officer Pulaski?”

  “Here,” he said, emerging from the vestibule with the preacher.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I said, putting my hand on my racing heart. “For a moment, I thought you might be caught outside.”

  “You’re bleeding,” Rex said. He gently wiped a spot on my face. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so,” I said with a frown. “You took the brunt of the blast.” I noticed the scrapes on his face. But then I gently turned him around and saw that shrapnel had sliced and burned holes through the cloth of his uniform to his back. “Oh no!”

  “Is it bad?” he asked, glancing behind him.

  “You need to sit down,” I said, gently pushing him into a pew. “I lost my phone. Officer Pulaski, call for the ambulance, please.” I turned back to Rex. “We need to get you taken care of.” I winced. “Does it hurt?”

  “Adrenaline,” he said. “I don’t feel anything. Is everyone else all right?”

  “Some got a bit banged up in the rush to get to the church,” Mr. Devaney said.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sally Mender said. She wrung her hands and stood close to Rex. “I’m the one who saw the box and helped Alice bring it into the center.”

  “Mr. Rucker was going to open it with a crowbar,” Alice said from a pew two rows up. “Can you imagine what would have happened if he had opened it while we were all inside?”

  The room was deathly quiet for a few seconds as the reality of what might have happened hit us. Rex stood. “But he didn’t open it, and we are all safe.”

  I could hear the ambulance sirens coming our way. “I imagine the entire island heard those explosions.”

  “The bomb squad is flying in from Traverse City,” Officer Pulaski said. “They want to check the site before anyone else gets close to it.”

  “How long are we going to have to stay here?” Mr. Rucker asked.

  “I have to use the restroom,” Mrs. Tunisian said.

  “I can help anyone who needs the facilities.” Pastor Henry stepped forward and took Mrs. Tunisian by the arm. “I’ll call the phone tree and get the women’s committee to bring some food and drinks.”

  “So we do have to stay here?” Mr. Anderson asked.

  “Yes,” Rex said, still seated. “We need to take statements, and the bomb squad needs to make sure there are no more bombs. Did anyone see who delivered the box?”

  “No,” a number of people in the crowd said, with a few headshakes and frowns.

  “We had a card tournament going,” Mr. Devaney said. “Most of us were busy playing cards.”

  “Whoever did this knew that the place would be packed,” I said. Dizzy at the thought, I had to sit. I was shaken by the idea that someone wanted to kill the seniors. Why? Was it because I used them to help solve murders? I covered my mouth with my hand.

  Rex studied me with careful eyes. “This is not your fault,” he said, his tone serious. “This is the fault of whoever put the bomb together.”

  “But—”

  “This is not your fault,” he said again. “Say it.”

  “This is not my fault,” I half whispered.

  “It isn’t.”

  The side door of the church opened, and George Marron walked in with a stretcher and emergency kit. He pulled the stretcher behind him. On the other side of the stretcher was a female EMT who I hadn’t met before. She looked to be about my age
, with a sturdy frame and light brown hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. Her name tag said Seal.

  “Rex needs looked at,” I called, waving my hand to signal George. “He took the brunt of the explosion.”

  “Who was outside when it went off?” George asked.

  “Allie and me. So where Mrs. Handle and Mrs. Mender,” Rex said, noting the two women who we had helped. He winced when George pushed him to lean forward so he could see Rex’s back.

  “I need to examine anyone who was outside,” George said, opening his medical kit.

  “I’m fine,” Mrs. Handle said in a gruff voice. “Just got startled and lost my footing.”

  “You were subjected to shockwaves,” George said. “You need to be checked out.”

  “Shockwaves can hurt you?” I asked.

  “They can cause damage to your brain and your lungs,” he said. “Concussion is number one. That’s what I need to check for first. I need to listen to your breathing and check your head.”

  “Great,” Rex said. “Be quick. I don’t have time to be down for the count.”

  “There’s a bomber and a murderer on the loose,” I agreed.

  Chapter 9

  “Thank goodness no one was badly hurt,” Frances said. We sat in the lobby of the McMurphy. It was nearly 8 P.M. Frances, Mr. Devaney, and I had finally gotten home and were sitting around the fireplace. I had my hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa from the coffee bar.

  The remodeling crew had left for the day. The foreman, Elmer Faber, had stuck around until we returned to give us an update on their first day. They had torn out all the carpets and taped off the rooms and hallway for painting. The room furniture was all covered in plastic drop cloths. After giving us a progress report, he bowed out quickly. We all must have looked as exhausted as I felt.

  “Just a few cuts and bruises,” I said. I touched the three stitches in my forehead. “At least no one had a shock concussion.”

  “We won’t know that for sure for a while,” Mr. Devaney reminded me. “These kinds of incidents can have long-term effects.”

  “I want to know who sent that box,” I said. “What were they thinking, attacking the senior center?”

  “It could be the killer trying to get rid of the senior gossip line,” Frances said.

  “I had the same thought,” Mr. Devaney said.

  “It’s criminal, and I hope they catch him,” I said. “A murderer was bad enough. Now I’m even more determined to figure out who did this.” I paused and sipped my cocoa. The sweet hot chocolate had a nice marshmallow foam. Then I switched topics to address something else that was weighing on my mind. “Are you two planning on leaving for the winter?”

  “What? No, where did you get that idea?” Frances asked. She looked at Mr. Devaney. “Douglas?”

  “No,” he said with a definitive shake of his head. “We planned on staying through the winter to help you. You’re keeping the McMurphy open, right?”

  “Yes, at least a few rooms,” I said. “Mostly I’ll be making fudge and supervising the remodels.”

  “Then we’re staying,” he said. “Why are you asking?”

  “It came up at the senior center this morning. The ladies were pretty sure you would go south when the weather got bad.”

  “Not this year,” Frances said. “There’s too much to do at the McMurphy.”

  “I plan on helping the general contractor for the roof and second-floor remodels,” Douglas said. “Contractors will be in tomorrow morning to talk about the roof, too, don’t forget.”

  “Right, thanks for the reminder,” I said. “They’re starting most of the work on the underside, right?”

  “Yes, but they do have to pull off sections of the roof decking to build the trusses underneath. So you will have a few days of tarps.”

  “But I thought they said they could take care of the structure in the attic without pulling off the roof.”

  “They can do it that way,” Mr. Devaney said. “And they’ll try, but with any kind of construction on a building this old, we have to be prepared for any contingency.”

  “Like a snowstorm,” I said. “Which means they can’t take off the roof.”

  “We’re not expecting snow for another three weeks,” he said. “We’ll get it done by then.”

  “Okay,” I said, suddenly exhausted. “We have no guests tonight, right?”

  “No one until Friday night,” Frances said.

  “Good, I’m tired. You both must be exhausted, too. I’m going up to the apartment. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Are you okay?” Frances asked. She stood with me. “Do you have a concussion?”

  “George said he didn’t think I did,” I said. “I think it’s just the adrenaline wearing off. I’ve got plans for fudge in the morning. Why don’t you two go home and take care of each other?”

  “If you’re sure you’re all right . . .” Frances said.

  “I’m sure.”

  I walked them both out of the McMurphy and locked the door behind them. I turned back and picked up my pup Mal, who was sticking close by my heels. “Come on, let’s go upstairs and go to bed.”

  I turned off the lights and made my way up the stairs. Poking my head into the second floor, I saw what looked like a ghost town. The wood floors on the hallway were exposed and stained dark with age. I wondered if it was smart to refinish the wood and not put carpet back on top. I guess I would learn that answer after next season when the guests came through on a regular basis again.

  Mella wound her way around my legs to encourage me to go up to the apartment. Both fur babies were used to heading to bed with me by nine. They were tired, too.

  I skipped the third floor and went up to the apartment. Inside, a new flower-patterned couch that I’d picked up at a garage sale sat next to Papa Liam’s chair. I was slowly but surely moving my grandparent’s belongings and replacing them with things more my own taste. Right now, the place was an eclectic mixture of old and new.

  My phone rang. It was Rex. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Allie.” His rich deep voice sounded tired.

  “You aren’t still working, are you?” I asked. “You took the brunt of the explosion. What did you get, fifty stiches?”

  “Not in the same place,” he said ruefully. “They’re scattered, with three or four stitches per spot. I feel like my back is full of gravel.”

  “You should wear a bulletproof vest,” I said. “That would have caught a lot of the shrapnel.”

  “It’s hot, heavy, and not part of the standard uniform.”

  “Oh.”

  “I called to check on you,” he said. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, looking around the empty room. Things were so quiet without Jenn and everyone. “Any more information on who did this?”

  “The fire chief says it wasn’t the box that exploded,” he said.

  “Wait, what?”

  “The box was still relatively intact after the blast. They found it digging through the rubble.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The fire chief thinks the blast was set outside the center, in the rafters. Whoever set the explosion off knew that everyone was out of the building.”

  “That means they didn’t want to hurt the seniors,” I said. “They only wanted to scare them. To keep them from talking?”

  “We don’t have a motive,” Rex said. “But the fire chief and I do agree that they were trying to scare people, not hurt them.”

  “There wasn’t anyone left in the building, was there?” I asked. “I mean, I’m pretty sure we checked . . . but . . .”

  “No bodies were found,” he said quietly. “But the bomber had to be within sight of the building to know that. And even then, they took a huge chance when they set off the explosions.”

  “I’m just glad no one had a heart attack. That explosion was loud.”

  “George told me that he has the clinic on call. There could be some delayed reactio
ns to today.”

  “What about you? You could have a delayed reaction.”

  “Same with you,” he said. “Is there anyone there keeping an eye on you?”

  “Just Mal and Mella.”

  “I don’t think they could call 9-1-1 if anything happened to you.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone either, then,” I said.

  “I agree.”

  There was a knock at my outside door. Mal barked and wagged her tail happily. I peeked out through the peephole in my back door. Rex stood outside. “You’re here,” I said as I opened the door. My tone came out surprised and breathy.

  “I’m here,” he said, stepping inside. He closed the door, pulled me against him, and kissed me hard. I sank right into the moment.

  * * *

  The next morning, I was up at 5 A.M. making fudge for several online orders. With the remodeling going on, I decided not to open the fudge shop to anyone on the street. I glanced out the window. The sun had not come up yet, and the streets were cold and empty except for a cleaning crew coming around to sweep up the horse droppings from the night before.

  I thought about last night with Rex. It was completely unexpected, but it left me feeling very happy and warm inside. Something about facing death together brought us even closer. He’d left around four to go home, shower, and prep for his day. I could be wrong, but it seemed that neither of us had any residual concussions from the blast.

  I made dark chocolate fudge with macadamia nuts and cranberries. The process was the same whether anyone watched through the shop window or not. I cooked the base, and when it was at the “softball” stage, I poured it on the marble cooling tables, which had coolant running underneath. Then it was time to stir the liquid as it cooled and thickened. When it was ready to fold, I reached over and added the nuts and cranberries. Then I took the small metal scraper, folded it all into a long loaf, and expertly cut one-pound pieces, adding them to a tray for boxing later.

  The online orders had tripled since the reality show. Even though I hadn’t won the fudge-off, it seemed I had still been a fan favorite, and viewers went to the website and ordered fudge for themselves. And now it was time to gear up for the holidays, too.