by J. C. Eaton
Allete continued to cry, muttering about “a misunderstanding” when Earvin grabbed a hand towel from Anika’s table and threw it at Allete’s face. “You tried to kill me, you little she-witch! Just like you killed my uncle!”
By now, the media was all over the room. Cameras flashing, reporters jostling for positions, and news anchors hurriedly making phone calls. I sat there wide-eyed with my jaw dropping.
Anika, who had, up to this point, remained fairly calm, strode over to Allete and screamed, “Earwigs! Filthy, disgusting earwigs. What did you do? Read that interview I gave for Culinary Masterpieces about my phobia when it came to those things? Well, I’ve got news for you. I’ve gotten over it. As Earvin can attest.”
Earvin shuddered and rolled his eyes as more and more reporters raced to the front of the room.
Godfrey ran over to where I was standing. “Those insects…Please don’t tell me you’re the one responsible for this mess.”
“Only partially.”
In a voice that all but shook the room, Earvin bellowed, “Will someone please arrest that French woman for murdering my uncle and attempting to kill me?”
“I swear, I wasn’t the one who poisoned that bonbon,” Allete shrieked. “What was I going to do? Buy a gallon of antifreeze and stash it somewhere?”
Then, a voice no one expected, Hortensia Vermeulen’s. “No, not the antifreeze. You left that for your husband. And no purchase was required. Daan Langbroek is the son of a mechanic and knows his way around car engines. It was no problem for him to dip into the little reserve on some poor unsuspecting vehicle and help himself to the poison. Antifreeze is sweet so it would have gone undetected in Jules’s mouth, especially after drinking wine.”
Good. Wine. A nice generic term and not Cabernet Sauvignon from Two Witches Winery.
“My husband?” Allete croaked. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“To salvage his business with the prize money. The stock plunged and he was desperate. He’s been on Interpol’s radar ever since the murder of Puccini Zinest’s CEO in Amsterdam. A murder your husband committed. Too bad he slipped out of the country before an arrest could be made. With the CEO out of the picture, it was “a go” as far as the international chocolate competition went. And you, my dear Allete, were virtually assured of being one of the finalists.”
Allete dabbed her face with a napkin. “And how could my husband accomplish such a thing?”
Hortensia glared at Allete. “Daan was able to get into the CEO’s room and spray Ambien on the man’s toothbrush. It was enough to make him woozy and slip under water. It worked once so Daan did it again with the wineglass that Jules used. You had to get Jules out of the way because he was the only person who stood between you and a fortune. And if you wonder why no Ambien spray bottles were ever found during the intense searches the local deputies made after Jules’s death, it was because Daan was clever enough to soak off the label on the spray bottle and replace it with the label for Flonase. The spray bottles are similar in size and shape.”
Theo leaned over and poked my elbow. “Didn’t I say that about the Flonase?”
“Yes, yes, you did. But you were convinced Stanislav had it. But forget the Flonase for a minute. Since when do horticulturalists conduct crime investigations?”
“Shh!” he said as Hortensia continued.
“Puccini Zinest’s CEO was the only obstacle against a merger, which would have meant no contest and no prize money. Daan was desperate so he pretended to suffer from insomnia so he could be given a prescription from a health clinic.”
“I’m confused,” Theo whispered. “What does this have to do with Anika sneaking around at the opening reception?”
“The opening reception?” I asked. “Where does soil maximization fit into any of this because the last time I looked, that’s why Hortensia Vermeulen is in the United States to begin with.”
Then Earvin spoke again. Only this time he walked directly in front of Hortensia, put his hands on his hips, and groaned. “Fine. Fine. Will you please arrest Daan Langbroek along with Allete Barrineau so we can get on with the competition? And maybe now you’ll stop bugging me about my uncle’s death. I got a nasty cut over my eye, thanks to that humungous ring of yours. Not to mention the fall I took. I don’t even think my professional chef’s jacket can be cleaned. And, for your information, it’s missing a button. Those things cost a fortune. How the hell was I supposed to know who you really are? I thought you were a crazed chocolate aficionado.”
Hortensia patted Earvin on the arm. “I said I was sorry. You were in a rush to avoid my questioning and when I followed you to the car, I slipped on the snowy ground. I was flaying all around and my hand accidently brushed against your forehead. The head bleeds quite a lot, you know. I didn’t think the sharpness of the gold filigree would do that much damage. And I certainly didn’t expect you to fall. Unfortunately, I do not have the authority to arrest anyone. As I told you in the parking lot, I retired from the General Directorate of Judicial Police in Belgium and now work as a detective serving Belgium, France, and the Netherlands. Much more lucrative.”
Stephanie cleared her throat. “No wonder she can afford that ring.”
“As you’ve surmised,” Hortensia said, “I’m not Hortensia Vermeulen. I’m Margot Jansen. However, I bear a strong resemblance to Hortensia and that’s when I was contacted by Puccini Zinest to pretend to be the famed horticulturalist so I could unobtrusively track Daan Langbroek’s moves in New York. The real Hortensia was more than glad to assist with our little operation. Of course, that meant collaborating with law enforcement from two countries, but with an employer who wields as much clout as Puccini Zinest, it was no problem.”
“That explains why she didn’t answer any questions at her canned lecture. She knows as much about soil as I do,” I muttered. “The real Hortensia must have put that PowerPoint together.”
Margot looked at the audience and took a breath. “The company was convinced there’d be another murder, and unfortunately, they were right. Daan’s a clever killer, and I was too late to prevent Jules from ingesting that bonbon.”
Suddenly, Daan Langbroek shot out of his chair and bolted to the door. “You won’t be able to prove anything.”
“That’s what you think,” Margot replied. “When you had that little tussle with Stanislav during his chocolate demonstration, you mixed antifreeze into the chocolate that you threw on him. Like a magician, you substituted your own concoction for the tempered chocolate he was working with and when he taste-tested the mixture, it was too late. Thanks to Deputy Hickman, the jacket Stanislav was wearing went to the Yates county lab for testing. I contacted the deputy as soon as you darted out of the winery. So, indeed, I can prove attempted murder.”
Daan leaned his body against the door. “How did you know my plan for Stanislav?”
“I didn’t. Not right away. But I overheard one of the guests at the hotel complaining to the management that someone broke into her car and left a gooey mess on the hood. I put two and two together and got over to Gable Hill Winery as soon as I’d had my little conversation with Earvin that day.”
“You still can’t prove a damn thing!” Daan shouted and raced out the door.
Allete began to sob again. “I swear, I had nothing to do with any of this. I came here to compete with the best intentions.”
“Like leading me on and pretending to be interested in starting our own chocolate company?” Stanislav asked from the other side of room. “What’s the American word for that? Ah yes. A Jezebel!”
“A Jezebel?” Don couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “The last person I heard use that word was my great-grandmother.”
In that instant, we heard a loud crash in the hallway. Then another. Before any of us could get to the door, Bradley walked in. Completely covered with red wine. He looked absolutely dazed but adorable, as usual. The roo
m went completely quiet and Bradley looked around. “Um, uh, sorry if I disrupted the program. A big guy came racing out of here and nearly knocked me over. I darted to one side just as a server came by with a wine cart. The big guy crashed into it and hit his head on the corner of the cart. It must have stunned him because he lost his footing and he’s on the ground. I missed toppling into the guy but couldn’t avoid getting splattered with wine.”
“Quick!” Margot shouted. “Someone detain Daan Langbroek and call the local deputies!”
In a flurry of excitement, Henry led the charge as he and a few attendees left the reserve ballroom for the foyer.
“I didn’t think Henry could move that fast,” Rosalee announced. “I thought he only had two speeds—slow and slower.”
The reporters who had fixed their attention on the presentation tables now moved to the foyer. The room resembled a football field—with everyone running every which way.
The three competing chocolatiers, Allete, Anika, and Earvin, remained at their positions, with Allete weeping, Earvin fussing over his table, and Anika standing with her hands on her hips.
Chapter 35
It was no surprise that Deputy Hickman arrived on scene in a most foul mood, along with two Ontario County deputies.
“There’d better be a good reason for this,” Grizzly Gary shouted as he got off the elevator and stormed into the ballroom. “It’s barbeque night at the Elks Club, and I’m missing some spicy ribs. Whoever’s in charge here needs to call Maintenance. Looks like one of your servers made a huge mess of things in the foyer, and that crowd of lookie-loos isn’t helping.”
“That crowd of ‘lookie-loos’ is holding down one of Jules’s killers,” Margot said. She removed her auburn wig and shook out her shoulder-length blond hair. “We’ve nabbed him, Deputy Hickman.” She took a napkin from one of the tables and wiped off her makeup, revealing a much younger woman in her forties perhaps, not sixties. Suddenly, Deputy Hickman’s entire demeanor changed right in front of us. He turned to the two Ontario county deputies and motioned for them to follow him back to the foyer.
“Well, they won’t have too far to look for the other killer,” I said to Theo, Don, and Godfrey. I stood and made my way over to Bradley, turning my head to finish my comment. “Allete’s only a few feet away, and I knew it was her when I plowed through that program booklet Henry sent us. My God. That thing could rival War and Peace. Anyway, there were family photos of Allete dangling little spiders at her brothers. The instant I saw them, I knew she was faking all along. Kids who play with spiders and insects don’t grow up to freak out over harmless house spiders.”
Bradley rushed toward me and gave me a hug. “Was the guy who knocked into me the killer? Geez. Talk about timing.”
With the ballroom doors wide open, I got a good look at Deputy Hickman, Margot Jansen, Henry Speltmore, and the two Ontario County deputies huddled around Daan Langbroek. Too bad it was short-lived. Within seconds, a sea of reporters engulfed the entire area, leaving me no choice but to return to my seat, along with Theo, Don, Godfrey, and Bradley.
Nothing changed at the competition tables except that Allete’s sobs were getting louder.
“Oh brother,” Theo said. “This is a disaster. They can’t hold the competition now. Who are they going to remove?”
Within minutes, the reporters fanned out and I got a birds-eye view of Daan Langbroek with his hands behind his back being escorted out of the hallway and into the elevator by Deputy Hickman and the Ontario county deputies.
“I’m surprised Allete isn’t right behind him,” I said.
Theo shook his head. “She’s no fool. She still thinks she has a chance to compete for the grand prize. Stanislav’s accusations were simply that. Accusations. He’d need to press charges.”
When the commotion died down in the hallway, Henry stepped to the front of the room. “Our apologies for a most unsettling evening. Please give me a moment to confer with our judges regarding the status of our competition.”
With that, he walked to the judges’ area and the four of them looked as if they were deeply involved in prayer. Heads bent down and no sign of movement. The reporters snapped photos of that little “powwow” as well.
Earvin continued to fuss with the accoutrements on his table, but Anika strode over to where Allete was standing and motioned for her. The two of them stood face-to-face against the wall nearest to the utility room door.
I jumped from my seat and virtually shoved Bradley into Godfrey as I stumbled forward. “Gotta go. Nature calls.”
With that, I took off like a madwoman for the door and the stairs leading to the other entrance to the utility room. Whatever conversation Allete and Anika were having, I needed to hear every single word. My feet felt as if someone had planted lead weights on them as I pushed myself to reach that utility room in time to hear what those two women were saying. Then I made sure to push the recording app on my cell phone. Once inside the utility room, I wedged the door open a sliver and held out my phone. It was enough space for me to see the women without them noticing I was there. Or so I thought.
“Your husband promised me three hundred twenty Danish krone if I followed Jules outside when he left that opening reception at the hotel and saw to it he wouldn’t get up easily if he fell. Where’s my money?”
“Shh! Quiet! Our voices can carry. You’ll get your miserable fifty thousand dollars as soon as I win this contest and post bail money for my husband.”
Oh my God! The third killer is Anika. That’s why she pretended to be one of the servers at the event.
“What makes you so sure you’ll take the prize?” Anika demanded.
“Because Earvin’s a buffoon and if you don’t let me win, I’ll tell the authorities it was you who came up with the idea to kill Jules. I’ll tell them how I overheard you boasting about it when we were in Munich. You needed to get Jules out of way so you’d be guaranteed a spot in the finals.”
“Liar. We were both in on it. You were desperate to save your husband’s business. Desperate from day one when Daan made sure the CEO would drown in his bathtub.”
“I’ll deny everything,” Allete said.
Anika’s voice got louder. “I can do that, too. In fact, if push comes to shove, I’ll admit to trying to save Jules by moving the body but when I realized he was dead, it was too late. I can cry too, you know.”
“Fire up the tears because I don’t think we’re alone.”
This was always the scene in the movies where someone said, “We’ve been made,” only there was no “we,” just me, and I knew I was in trouble. Of course, by the time I realized it, it was already too late. Anika shoved the door backward and lunged at me. “Give me your damn cell phone if you know what’s good for you.”
“Like hell.” I’d need to write a whole new screenplay to afford another one.
“Don’t make it hard on yourself.” Allete closed the door that separated the utility room from the ballroom, while Anika grabbed me by the wrist and twisted my arm. The pain seared through me. I dropped my phone but managed to kick it under a table so one of those witches would have to bend down to retrieve it. I waited to see which one of them would make the move. My money was on Anika since she was closer and, sure enough, I was right. Without waiting to see what Allete had in mind, I let out a bloodcurdling shriek and jumped on Anika’s back, yanking her hair with every bit of strength I had. Granted, it was a move Nancy Drew never would have made and one my mother certainly wouldn’t have condoned. Francine and I were taught hair-pulling wasn’t considered fair fighting.
Then again, Nancy Drew and my mother weren’t fending off a maniac.
“Do something, Allete!” Anika shouted, only Allete was no longer in the room.
By now, Anika and I were embroiled in a genuine scuffle. I rolled off her back and resorted to a more civilized means of self-defense—kicking and punchin
g. The stainless-steel bowls and kitchen utensils on the table fell to the ground and Anika wasted no time grabbing a large slotted spoon which she aimed at my head.
The only thing within my reach was a metal colander, but with a quick thrust, I landed it against her cheek and screamed at the top of my lungs. The sound must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a voice shouting, “Norrie, are you all right?”
The door to the utility room flung open and, from my vantage point on the ground, I saw men’s shoes. At least two pairs. My arms pressed down on Anika’s shoulders and I yelled, “Don’t let her get away!”
It was Bradley and Godfrey who managed to pull me off her while she insisted I had “lost my mind” and attacked her “like a rabid dog.”
“Rabid dog?” By now, I really had lost my mind. I got down on all fours to scrounge for my cell phone all the while gasping “She’s the other killer. And Allete was in on it, too!”
“Allete? She’s the one who ran into the ballroom from the foyer. She said Anika attacked you. Said Anika is as unstable as they get.”
And Allete is as unbalanced as they come.
I retrieved my cell phone and played the conversation I’d taped. At least ten more people, including Theo, Don, Cammy, and Margot Jansen, crammed into the utility room and listened to my recording. Too bad it didn’t include the under-the-table melee between Anika and me.
“Guess Deputy Hickman won’t be biting into any of those spicy ribs tonight, huh?” Theo said.
“And we won’t get to watch famed chocolatiers create fantasy castles,” Don said. “Not tonight anyway. No doubt Allete will be brought in for questioning once those deputies finish processing Daan Langbroek’s arrest. And with Anika’s phone confession, Earvin can’t very well compete against himself.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said. “He’s got quite the ego.”
In a matter of minutes, everyone returned to their seats and Henry, along with the judges, rendered their decision regarding the status of the competition.
