Here Comes the Fudge

by Nancy CoCo

  I carried the boxes up the last flight of stairs. My office was next to my apartment at the top of the stairs. I pulled the boxes into the office and found Jenn inside. “Hey, girl, how’s the planning on the Wilkins wedding going?”

  “Pretty well,” she said. “They want a beachy wedding because the reception is on the rooftop with views of the beach. The ceremony will be on the beach and then they will all ride in carriages around the island and stop here for the rooftop reception. I have fifteen carriages ready. The style is so cute. I have these little bottles with sand and Petoskey stones and a tiny succulent inside to look like beach grass. A cork and a raffia ribbon around the top and voilà! What do you think?” She showed me her mock-up.

  “Cute,” I said.

  “What’s in the boxes?” she asked. I heard Mal rush up the stairs and into the office before she jumped into Jenn’s lap.

  “These are the terrariums for your table favors,” I said. “We have the dirt, the stones, the charcoal and bark and tiny air ferns, along with some cute little toadstools in your colors. So, I’ve got all the things. Want to help me put the first one together so I know how to make the rest?”

  “Sure thing,” she said with a glint of excitement. It was the first excitement I’d seen in her all day.

  We spent a nice hour side by side creating wedding favors. Me with the terrariums and Jenn with her succulents in glass bottles.

  “You know what?” I said. “I bet those would be cute with a message in the bottle along with the plant. You know . . . message in a bottle.”

  “That would be cute,” Jenn said. “I’ll make a note to talk with Jessica about it.”

  “Jessica and Max Wilkins,” I said. “That makes for a nice couple.”

  “It sure does,” Jenn agreed.

  “Like Shane and Jenn Carpenter,” I said.

  “If we get married,” she said with a deep sigh.

  “Okay.” I stopped what I was doing. “How are you? I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me about it, but you haven’t. Still, you have to talk to someone, and who better than your best friend?”

  She sat back and put her hands in her lap. “I . . . I don’t know what is going on with Shane.” Her voice shook and tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “Okay, let’s take a break on this for a while. Come on, come with me. Let’s get you some tea and we’ll talk.”

  She let me take her by the elbow and gently guide her out of her chair and into my apartment. Mal and Mella were happy to follow us. Mella disappeared to her favorite box in the closet and Mal went to her puppy bed and turned three times before lying down. Jenn sat down at the breakfast bar of my open kitchen and put her head in her hands.

  I let her gather her thoughts for a moment and put on the kettle, picked up two mugs and a selection of teas. I placed the mugs in front of her and me and got some honey and some milk. The kettle whistled, and still Jenn hadn’t said anything. I made us both tea and gestured for her to put in honey or milk.

  “Let’s sit on the couch. Maybe that will help,” I said.

  Jenn sat and held her hands wrapped around her mug. “Shane still isn’t speaking to me.”

  “Why not? What happened?”

  “I asked him what happened and he said he wouldn’t tell me. Then I went to the store and found out from Sherry Watson that the woman was Shane’s ex-fiancée. I asked him, again, what he was doing in an alley with her. I tried not to sound upset, but it’s upsetting.” She frowned. “That’s when he got up and walked away.”

  “I don’t understand why he wouldn’t talk to you,” I said.

  “Neither do I,” she said as a tear ran down her check and splashed on her hand. “I mean, he told me he had a fiancée, but she had been out of his life for three or four years. Why did she come back now? Why was he found in the alley with her and Christopher?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m going to find out.”

  “Please don’t,” she said. “Shane told me to leave it alone. He said he wouldn’t marry me if you or I put ourselves in danger over this.”

  “Why would he say such a thing?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He knows we work well on our investigations. He needs help. He’s the number one suspect. The wedding really will be off if he goes to jail.”

  “Then we need to have a plan,” I said.

  “A plan?”

  “Yes,” I was firm. “A plan that he won’t find out about. A plan where we find Christopher’s killer without letting him know.”

  “Good luck with that,” she said and tilted her head against her right hand, the mug in her left. “Shane knows everything Rex knows. Those two are tight.”

  “Well, then, we’ll just have to keep Rex from knowing what we’re doing.” I held out my right pinky. “Pinkie swear only you and I will know. We’ll tell everyone we’re not investigating.”

  “Pinkie swear,” she said and we hooked pinkies and lifted them up in the air.

  After all, what could possibly go wrong?

  Peanut Butter and Chocolate Fudge

  Ingredients:

  12 ounces dark chocolate chips

  14 ounces sweetened condensed milk

  1 cup mini marshmallows

  ¾ cup peanut butter

  1 tablespoon vanilla

  Directions:

  In a heavy saucepan, mix chocolate, milk, marshmallows, and peanut butter. Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly until it is completely melted. Remove from heat and add vanilla. Stir until combined.

  Pour into parchment-lined 8 x 8-inch pan. Chill until set. Cut into one-inch pieces. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator or freezer. Makes 32. Enjoy!

  Chapter 6

  I checked on Mr. Devaney, who was in the basement of the McMurphy. When I remodeled the hotel I had the contractors put drywall on the walls and ceiling and install really good lighting before painting it all white. There once was a door to a secret tunnel that moved under the alley and linked to the hotel behind me. But I had it plastered shut and drywalled over it.

  “Wow, the place is nice and bright,” I said as I stepped down into the basement. How do you like it?”

  “It’s better,” Douglas said. “I can finally see what I’m working on.”

  “The trellis looks gorgeous,” I said.

  “Jenn showed me one in a wedding book that she liked,” he said. “It was easy to copy because she didn’t want an arch but a rectangular one.” He had painted it white and the basement smelled of fresh paint. He had the single window cracked so air could flow in. It was a casement window, but it did the trick.

  “I’m supposed to take it to the florist when I’m finished so they can place flowers in it. She wants blush pink and champagne roses and other flowers so it will look like it was taken from a garden.” I touched a spot he hadn’t painted yet. “It’s going to be so pretty.”

  “I’m glad they’re using Arch Rock for their wedding,” he said. “It’s a nice natural limestone arch in the park. It’s better than the beach. Should be a lot fewer gulls and such there.”

  “Jenn thought about the beach, but the Wilkinses are doing that and she didn’t want the same area. Besides, this will be just as nice or nicer,” I said. “The trestle is so nice. I bet we can keep it after Jenn’s wedding and offer it to other couples who are getting married to rent as part of their wedding package.”

  “Huh, so you’re doing wedding packages now?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Depending on the size of the wedding they can rent out the entire hotel, have their wedding and reception on the rooftop, house their guests, and we will offer a champagne breakfast for everyone the next morning.”

  “Are you going to cook that?” Douglas asked, looking a trifle worried.

  “Oh no,” I said. “I’ve got enough on my hands making fudge. Terra Reeves is a great caterer who will work with us. Anyway, the newlyweds will have their room comped if they take the entire hotel for the weekend. We will also
offer other services as they crop up and we see how this new addition to our seasonal guests works out.”

  “You sure are making the McMurphy a destination place,” he said. “Not sure that’s a good thing.”

  I laughed. Douglas was a tad bit of a curmudgeon, always worrying about what could happen. “It will be great,” I said. “We have the entire month of June booked and we are starting to book out to October.”

  “Huh,” he said and scratched his head. “Guess destination weddings are still a thing.”

  “They sure are,” I said and patted him on the back. “Great work.” I headed up the stairs to the lobby, and Mal met me at the top. I picked up my pup. It was nearly six in the evening and Frances was closing up for the day. We rarely got guests after six on Sunday, so I let her go home. We had hooked up a buzzer system in case late guests did arrive.

  “How’s Jenn doing?” Frances asked.

  “She’s hanging in there,” I said and Frances raised an eyebrow at me to let me know she knew I was lying. “She’s worried about Shane and the wedding.”

  “And well she should be,” Frances said. “I understand Shane is still the leading suspect in the murder of Christopher and the stabbing of Becky.”

  “We all know Shane would never do that,” I said.

  “Never say never,” Frances said. “Shane’s not talking and that’s not a good sign.”

  I sighed. “I know.”

  “Have you gotten much further on the investigation?”

  “No,” I said. “We were looking for someone who might want Christopher dead, but everyone seems to agree that he was a great guy and they couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to harm him.”

  “I know his mother,” Frances said as she put a jacket on over her long skirt and flowery shirt. “Joan is a joy. She must be hurting. I’m going to go home and make her food, then go visit.”

  “Oh, good idea,” I said. “Can I go with you? I can bring her some fudge or cookies.”

  “Depends. Is this a sympathy visit or are you investigating?” she asked me. I could never lie to Frances. She had that look like my mom got when she wanted a truthful answer.

  I took a step toward her and lowered my voice. “No, I’m not going to Joan’s home to investigate, but that doesn’t mean I won’t listen if someone says something of interest. Besides, I don’t want to cause more trouble for Jenn. Shane and Rex have been adamant on shutting us down on this one. If I show up asking questions, Shane might react adversely.”

  “Well, I don’t blame them,” she said. “It would be horrible if the killer got their hands on either of you. The last thing the blushing bride needs is to have stitches or bruises on her big day because she got involved with a killer.”

  “You know we’re careful,” I protested.

  “I also have watched you both get into some deep water. It wouldn’t do for her maid of honor to have bruises or stitches or anything broken, either. Think of the pictures.”

  I laughed. “That’s the worst excuse ever, ‘think of the pictures.’ You know they have photo editing now and can take anything out of a picture.”

  “Not the video,” she continued.

  “Well, then, I’ll be sure to stay extra safe,” I said. “Now, I just checked on Douglas and he looks like he might be about an hour from completing his painting for the day. I’m going to make some cookies. Call me when you’re ready to go over or I’ll go myself.”

  “I’ll call you,” Frances said. “Somebody has to keep you out of trouble.”

  “Thanks,” I said and took Mal upstairs to the apartment with me. I loved baking as much as I loved fudge making. I’d chosen cookies because they were easy to freeze and also easy to offer the visitors who came to sit with the grieving mother.

  The perennial favorites were peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips in them. I whipped up a quick batch and ate a salad and soup for dinner. Frances texted me that she was there. So I fed my fur babies, grabbed the wrapped-up cookies, and locked the door behind me.

  “Let’s go,” Frances said. “I don’t think anyone should show up at her house after eight p.m.”

  I glanced at the time on my phone. “It’s seven fifteen,” I said. “I think we have plenty of time.”

  I grabbed my coat and we went out the back. Christopher’s mom lived on the other side of St. Anne’s Church from the McMurphy on a road behind the church facing east. The house was another beautiful bungalow. The lawn was surrounded by a picket fence and filled in with flowers. The house itself was a pale blue-white with sky blue shutters. I found it quaint and pretty.

  Frances knocked on the door. Carol answered. “Hi, ladies, come on in. Let me take the food. You can put your coats on the side chair here. Joan is in the living room.”

  “I’ll take my cookies with you,” I said, seeing that it would be difficult to hold both Frances’s thirteen-inch casserole dish and my overflowing plate of cookies.

  Frances took off her jacket and held the cookies so I could take mine off, and then she went into the living room to greet Joan while I followed Carol into the kitchen.

  The interior of the house was as lovely as the exterior. Painted pale green throughout, it was calming. The kitchen was in the back and quite small, but filled with storage space because it had cabinets that reached to the ceiling.

  “Have you come to investigate?” Carol asked.

  “No,” I said. “I came to offer my condolences.”

  “But you are investigating,” Carol said. “I’ve got my network trying to track down what Shane was doing after he arrived on the island.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “But we should really be here for Joan right now.”

  Carol winked at me. “Okay, we’ll keep this under wraps.”

  “Thanks.” I walked out of the kitchen. The cozy living room was filled with women come to console one of their own who had lost her baby. Christopher Harris was a well-loved man. It seemed the seniors adored him. I went and gave Joan a hug and an air kiss. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  She patted my hand. “Thank you.” But her eyes seemed glassy, as if she wasn’t thinking, only reacting. Joan Harris was pretty, with shoulder-length, blond hair. She wore a black dress and slippers on her feet. Her fingernails were well manicured, but she wore no makeup. I imagined she would have cried it off if she did put any on. Tears rolled unstopped down her cheeks. The ladies chatted around her, trying to talk about books they’ve read and the upcoming Lilac Festival. I stood behind Frances’s chair, leaving the seats to women older than me out of respect.

  “Isn’t that right, Allie?” someone asked.

  I blinked. “Excuse me, could you repeat that?”

  “I was saying that the police will hunt down and catch the person who did this horrible thing,” Mrs. Albertson said.

  “Yes, they will,” I agreed.

  “And Allie will make sure they do,” Carol said.

  Everyone looked at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t have any authority to do that.”

  “But clearly you do,” Mrs. Schmidt said. “You’ve made sure in all the other cases.”

  “Please don’t stop now,” Joan said, tears rolling down her cheeks. Mrs. Emry handed her a tissue. “Someone needs to pay for what they did to my poor baby boy.”

  “I heard now that Christopher is gone we’re all going to have to go to mail-order prescriptions. The drugstore will have to shut down,” Mrs. Albertson said.

  “Lucy, that’s probably a little premature,” Frances said. “David Peele is the owner and he also has a pharmacy in Mackinaw City. I’m sure he’ll have his pharmacist there come work here for at least two days a week.”

  “That makes good business sense,” I said with a nod.

  There was a knock on the door and Carol answered it. It was Liz McElroy. She handed Carol a dish of food and took off her coat. The first thing she did was give Joan a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How are you holding up?”

 
; “I’m okay,” Joan said and blew her nose on the handkerchief she was handed. “The ladies are sitting with me to keep me company.” Her eyes still were glazed, as if she hadn’t really processed what the meaning of her son being murdered truly meant. No grandchildren and no one to care for her in her old age. Joan was widowed five years earlier and Christopher was her only child.

  “Good, good,” Liz said. Her dark curly hair was a bit wild from the wind. She wore jeans and a plaid shirt and her favorite lightweight hiking boots. She came and stood beside me. “How are you?” she asked in a low tone.

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “We need to talk later,” Liz said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  We stayed for about thirty minutes and then Frances stood to leave. We said our goodbyes, put on our coats, and walked out into the twilight. Liz came with us.

  “Well, that was sad,” Liz said. “I didn’t want to ask, but someone needs to write Christopher’s obituary for the paper.”

  “The place was too full of people to talk about obituaries,” Frances said to Liz. “Or ask questions about Christopher,” she said to me.

  I felt fully chastised. The visit was supposed to be about Joan, not me and my curiosity. “In my defense, it will bring her closure when we catch the killer,” I said.

  “So you are investigating,” Liz said. “Do you have any theories? What was it like to find the body? Did you help Becky?”

  “My goodness, you are full of questions,” Frances said to Liz.

  Liz grinned. “I should be. It’s my job. Say, Allie, come with me to get some hot cocoa.”

  “Hot cocoa?” I asked. “I just had that the other night. Couldn’t we get something more spring like?”

  “Still cold out, though,” she said and shrugged. “We could get tea or coffee or a hot toddy.” She blew on her hands and rubbed them together.

  “I guess the wind off the lake is a bit chilly,” I said. “Let’s walk Frances to the McMurphy first, then go.”