In Hot Fudge And Cold Blood

by A. R. Winters

  “So there was nothing… romantic going on with you and Sandra?”

  “Absolutely nothing of the sort! I only have eyes for your mother, Aria.”

  “Mmhmm,” I said dubiously and nibbled on a little piece of pastry.

  “Though I suppose it is a bit of luck that she’s not out in public at the moment.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, what with her discovering Sandra’s body. It might make me look bad, to be associated with all that!”

  I tried to refrain from rolling my eyes again.

  This guy was unbelievable. It did make him almost perfect for my mother though; they both had enough arrogance and self-importance to sink a battleship and would no doubt poison any relationship with anyone who wasn’t as self-obsessed as each of them was. Mom and Donovan were so busy thinking about how wonderful each of them was that they didn’t notice when the other didn’t shut up about how wonderful they were, either.

  “Well, Aria, I can’t stand here chatting with you all day. My other citizens will get jealous,” he said, followed by a loud, “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

  “I’d hate to deprive them,” I said, already looking down at what was left of my pie again. “Have a nice afternoon, Donovan.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “Bye Aria, bye Priscilla, bye Black Cat Café!”

  With a wave of his hand, high in the air, the mayor bid farewell to the café and strutted outside to whatever he had next on his hectic agenda of schmoozing and boozing.

  With Donovan gone, I could get back to my own important business: finishing the rest of my beautiful, delicious dessert and thinking about Randi and Sandra and fudge.

  Chapter 14

  At just before 9 a.m., there was a loud thud at the front door of my shop. I turned off the vacuum, which I had been pushing around counterclockwise for obvious reasons, and went to investigate.

  The thump was followed by rapid banging on the door from what appeared to be a large deranged woman. I peered through the glass. It was a large deranged woman.

  “Hi, Mom,” I said when I’d unbolted the door and pulled it open.

  If anything, Mom looked even worse than she had last time I’d seen her. She was just as large, but now her face had turned into a splotchy red mess as well, and her hair seemed to be going haywire—even under the headscarf she’d wrapped around her swollen head.

  “Oh, Aria,” she said with a plaintive whining tone to her voice.

  “Would you like some tea?”

  She nodded appreciatively. “Get out the good stuff. I’ll need it.”

  The “good stuff” was a special blend we had put together of chamomile and lavender, along with a little bit of witchy-magic on top. We’d created it for those times when the stress was getting to be just too much to handle, and I had to admit, with Mom in her current state, I wasn’t sure if even our special blend would be enough to settle her.

  I went behind the counter and took out the tea tin, and set some water to boil in the electric kettle I kept specifically for this purpose. “So you haven’t reversed the spell, then.”

  Mom glared over at me. “No, not yet. Though I am working on it.” There was a small amount of hope in her voice now. “But I’ll need to keep out of prison to pull it off.”

  “Prison?”

  I fetched two cups and gave them a quick wipe, and then I put the herbal tea blend into my hand-painted ceramic floral teapot.

  Mom let out a loud sigh with a bit of a wheeze behind it. The weight really seemed to be affecting her body as well as her mental state. “That awful man was hammering on my door this morning.”

  “Which awful man was that?” I asked with an amused smile.

  “Your awful man. Your policeman. Jack fudging Bowers.”

  “Mom!” I said with shock and irritation. “He’s not my man. What did he want?”

  While Mom and Mayor Donovan had an on-off relationship, my relationship with Jack Bowers had been more a slow burn. In fact, the burn was so slow I wasn’t sure if it was even smoldering yet. We didn’t officially have a relationship. But still, I wouldn’t have Mom speaking ill about him, not in my shop.

  “He wanted to arrest me and throw me in prison until I die, Aria.”

  That didn’t sound like the Jack Bowers I knew.

  With a roar, the kettle brought itself to a boil, and I carefully poured its contents into my little teapot. The air immediately filled with lavender-chamomile steam and the tense muscles in my neck and shoulders began to loosen up.

  “Did he say those exact words?”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  “Didn’t have to?”

  “Nope. I could tell, Aria. I’m a very intuitive person, and I knew that was what he wanted to do. He’s never liked me, and you know what I say: don’t ever trust a man who doesn’t like me.”

  Inhaling the scent of the tea to keep my cool, I breathed in and out slowly. Then, I lifted the teapot and slowly filled the two cups with hot violet liquid. Once they were nice and full, I carried them both across the room, gently handed one to my mother, and sat in the neighboring armchair to hers.

  “What did he say, exactly?”

  Mom shrugged and silently raised her cup to her lips.

  “Mom?”

  “He didn’t say anything.”

  I took a sip of my own tea. Talking to Mom was an ordeal sometimes.

  “What do you mean he didn’t say anything? He knocked on your door and stood there like a zombie?”

  A smile almost crossed my mother’s lips, a faint tightening of the corners of her pudgy cheeks giving her away.

  “I didn’t open the door. But I could tell what he wanted.”

  “With your intuition?”

  She nodded again, firmly.

  “So you just ignored him?”

  Mom shook her head, took a sip of her tea, and then looked up at me again.

  “I didn’t ignore him, Aria. I hurried out the back door of my house and came here!”

  I took another sip of tea. I needed it. “In other words, you’re on the run from the police, and you came here?”

  “Of course. I couldn’t exactly go to the mayor’s office in this state, could I?” A shudder seemed to pass down her spine and a drop of tea spilled out of the cup onto her thick jacket, but she didn’t seem to notice. “If Donovan saw me like this… well, it doesn’t bear thinking about, does it? Not that I would want to see him, anyway.”

  “I saw him, by the way. He was asking after you.”

  “Now that his Jezebel is in the grave he wants me back, I take it?”

  Using my hand to wipe my lips, I covered up a smile. “He assured me he had no romantic interest in her. He has eyes only for you, Mom. Well, he did.” I ran my eyes up and down her rotund form in its heavy jacket. “But maybe he’d change his tune if he could actually see you now.”

  Mom treated me to one of her meanest glares. The tea must have been working, because I just responded with a serene smile.

  “So that awful Molly woman was making it all up?”

  “No. Donovan had been talking to Sandra, but he tells me they were talking about rezoning plans. He wants to turn that whole historic neighborhood into some kind of commercial district with jam shops and nightclubs.”

  “Nightclubs?”

  “I know. Ridiculous, right?”

  “Oh, that sounds fun. I haven’t been to a club in ages,” said Mom brightly. Then she seemed to remember her current condition and her demeanor turned somber again. “Not that any decent clubs would let me in.”

  “I know, Mom. You’re far too old for all that now.”

  “Aria!” she said, slopping more of her tea onto her jacket.

  I just sipped quietly until she had calmed herself again. “So what are you going to do? You can’t avoid Jack forever. You should talk to him.”

  “No! He’d tell everyone what I look like! It’d probably be plastered all over the papers!”

  “He’s not a gossip. He wouldn’t do th
at.”

  “Perhaps, but people would still see me, Aria. No, I’m not letting anyone see me until this,” she said, waving her hands in vague circles over her rolls, “is all gone.”

  “You let me see you.”

  “I meant anyone important,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye.

  I smirked back at her.

  “If he asks me, I’m not lying for you. You got yourself into this mess and I’m not covering it up.”

  Mom turned her gaze up toward the ceiling.

  “Magic above, what did I do to deserve such an uncaring daughter?”

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said benevolently, “you can hide out upstairs with Kiwi for now. If there actually is a warrant out for your arrest, you’ll go and turn yourself in though. I’m not harboring a wanted criminal.”

  Mom sniffed. “I’m not a criminal, you know that. If the police think I am, that’s their problem, not mine.”

  “The justice system doesn’t work like that, Mom. You can’t just tell them they’re wrong.”

  She shook her head in denial, and then emptied the remnants of her teacup into her mouth with a big gulp.

  “Well,” she said, resting the cup on her spacious lap, “it would if I was in charge of it.”

  “Right. Sure, Mom. Everything would be perfect. Now what are you going to do about yourself? Walnut Wanda’s Fat Warriors does seem to be an effective program…”

  She jerked her head angrily from one side to the other. “Walnut Wanda can waltz her way out west.”

  “We are out west.”

  “I mean into the ocean,” Mom said, a mean smile dancing on her lips.

  “Well, if you’re not going to join the Fat Warriors, what are you going to do?”

  “I told you—I’ve got it under control. I have a plan, one I’ve already put into action. Soon I’ll be my old self again.”

  “Emphasis on ‘old?’”

  “Aria!” screeched Mom.

  “I kid, I kid. But really, what’s your plan?”

  “It’s a secret. I know you wouldn’t approve so I’m not going to tell you.”

  I gave her my best This Is Serious look. “It’s not illegal, is it?”

  Mom shrugged. “How should I know? You’re the expert on the legal system, apparently.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “But no, it’s nothing illegal, probably.”

  “Great. What about Sandra? Did you get anywhere with her?”

  “She’s still dead, isn’t she?” said Mom with a puzzled look.

  “I mean did you get anywhere finding out who killed her?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Mom, “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than some harlot’s comeuppance.”

  I stood up, carried both of our cups to the counter, and set them on top. I’d ask Sarah to wash them later, and then inevitably end up doing it myself when she forgot or found a more pressing task to do instead.

  “You know, Mom, you’re one of the prime suspects in Sandra’s murder. You should try and figure out who did it just to clear your name. I’m looking into it and I haven’t even been accused.”

  “You always were nosy.”

  I gritted my teeth and thought back to those happy moments a minute or two ago when I still had some tea left to drink. Why was I trying to help Mom clear her name when all she seemed to care about was her weight?

  “Oh!” Mom started to stand up, but couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, she fell backward into the comfy armchair. Finally, using her arms to push herself up, she managed to stand up on her second attempt. “Help me into the back, quick!”

  It didn’t take me more than a couple of seconds to catch on. Mom wanted to hide.

  I held her arm and helped her maneuver toward the back of the shop, where the door leading upstairs was located. “Did you put a spell on him?”

  “On who?” she asked innocently while she hurried guiltily.

  “On Jack!”

  I pulled the door open and started to shove my mother through it.

  “Oh, well. Not a spell exactly. Just a little charm, something to alert me when he’s getting too close. Like now.”

  She was incorrigible.

  “Make yourself at home upstairs. Kiwi’s there and he’ll keep you company. You can watch Dress Me For a Date together.”

  “Maybe if I leave the window open, he’ll fly out,” she said with a wicked cackle.

  “Enjoy the stairs,” I said firmly, giving my mother one final push through the door and closing it behind her.

  Ding!

  I spun around with a smile fixed on my face. “Jack! What a pleasant surprise!”

  “Aria,” he said with a smile. “Sorry I haven’t been in contact. It’s been a bit hectic lately, what with the…” He paused and made a grimace. “Y’know.”

  I nodded in understanding.

  “Can I get you anything? A cup of tea?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “A bridal gown?”

  We both smiled for a moment, before his expression grew more serious again.

  “Aria, have you seen your mother recently?”

  Recently is a funny word, isn’t it? So imprecise.

  If you’d seen someone one second prior, it didn’t really count as ‘recently,’ did it? It was too close for that. And if it had been a couple of days, that was completely open to interpretation. Some people might think recently meant within the last hour, whereas others might decide it meant within the previous six months.

  “My mother?”

  Jack grinned at me. “You know, similar height to you, dyed blonde hair, nice clothes, and quite slender?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen anyone matching that description since the night of the… y’know.”

  Jack looked at me seriously. “We want to talk to her again, but I can’t seem to track her down. I even went to her house this morning but no one answered the door.”

  “She was probably sleeping late with a hangover,” I said, embracing my inner mischievous streak.

  “Ah… right. Well, if you do see her, could you let her know that we’re looking for her?”

  “Of course. Is she still a suspect?”

  Jack tilted his head to one side. “You know I don’t think she did it—not your mother of all people. But we haven’t actually been able to eliminate her from our inquiries yet either. That’s why we want to speak to her again, to see if there’s anything else she can tell us that would either help us find who did it, or at least remove her from suspicion.”

  It seemed reasonable to me. I toyed briefly with the idea of what would happen if I invited Jack upstairs. The fireworks would definitely be something to remember.

  But no, I wasn’t going to turn my mother in, not with her looking like she did at the moment. She would never forgive me. And the town would never forget.

  “When you do see her, could you get her to give me a call?”

  “I’ll definitely do that for you,” I said. “I can’t promise she’ll actually listen, mind you, but I’ll try!”

  Jack smiled at me, his green eyes seeming to light up. “That’s all we can do, isn’t it? We can but try.”

  “Exactly. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

  Jack paused for just a moment. He wanted to, and his body language all but shouted it.

  “I’d love to, actually. I really would. But unfortunately, it’s non-stop at the moment. We’ll do it soon though, okay? And it’ll be me getting the drink, not you.”

  I beamed at him.

  “Sounds good.”

  Before he left, while he was standing by the door, he looked over his shoulder a final time.

  “Goodbye, Aria.”

  I gave a little wave.

  And with a ding! of the bell above the door, he was gone.

  A few minutes after Jack had gone, I was leaning back against the counter doing nothing but daydreaming. I was all alone for once, and it was nice to have a break fro
m it all, a few moments of peaceful bliss, even if it was short.

  Very short, as it turned out.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  It wasn’t the sound of human knuckles on wood. It was a different kind of knock.

  This was the knock of a parrot’s beak on a door it wanted to open but couldn’t.

  “Hold on, Ki, I’m coming.”

  As soon as I’d opened the door that connected the shop to the small passageway that led upstairs or outside, he was in. With a flutter of feathers and an angry screech, he launched himself into the shop and landed on the counter.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked, though I could probably guess.

  With another screech that sounded like a wounded monkey he let me know that he was annoyed. Very annoyed.

  “Was it Mom?”

  An angry caw confirmed that it was, indeed, my mother who had upset him.

  “What did she do this time?”

  Kiwi took a moment to compose himself. He spread out his wings, fluffed up his feathers, and then brought them back in close. He shook his little head, hopping into the air and back down again to get everything settled in place.

  “She tried to kill me!”

  “What!?” I knew Mom wasn’t fond of Kiwi—or birds in general—but surely she wouldn’t try and murder my pet, would she?

  “Murder! Attempted murder!” he cried.

  “What did she do?”

  I paced up and down the shop in front of Kiwi while he prepared himself to give his indignant explanation of what had gone on. Mom had only been up there a few minutes but she’d made quite an impact on Kiwi today. At least his fudge hangover seemed to have cleared up.

  “She opened the window—on the second floor—and tried to push me out!”

  I cocked my head at him. “That’s it?”

  He flapped his wings in anger at my response.

  “The second floor, Aria! How would you like it if I pushed you out of the second-floor window? I could have plummeted to my death!”

  I had to stop myself from laughing.

  “Kiwi. You’ve. Got. Wings.”

  He fluttered his wings and glanced at them, annoyed.

  “So?”

  “So unless you’re even lazier than I think, you wouldn’t have plummeted to your death.”