by Nancy CoCo
“How can I sleep when Peter is hurt and unconscious?” Panic surrounded me. “What if he doesn’t make it through the night?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Frances said and took my keys from me and unlocked the apartment. “You need an alibi.”
“What? Why?”
“The evidence against you is stacking up.” Frances put my duffel down and then walked me to the bathroom. “Get ready for bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“I don’t want to get ready for bed. I want to find out who hurt Peter.”
Mal stepped out of her crate and took one long leisurely stretch before bounding over for her welcome-home pats. I absently picked her up. She licked my face, and I sent her a tired smile.
“Peter is in good hands. You need sleep and an alibi. I’m providing both. Now go.” Frances shooed me toward the master bedroom. “Do you need me to fix you any warm milk?”
“I’d rather you brewed some coffee. What about the other members of the cast and crew?”
“What about them?” Frances put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.
“Are they under lock and key as well?”
“They’d better be,” Frances said. “The way people are getting hurt, it’s not safe for any member of the show to be alone. Especially you.”
“Why me?”
“Because you make it a bad habit of being a suspect.”
CHAPTER 22
“Chef Peter Thomas is in critical but stable condition at Bradford Health Systems intensive care,” the radio announced. “All work on the reality show, Fudge Not, Lest Thee Be Fudged has been suspended. Cast and crew members have been asked by the local authorities to stay in their rooms until further notice.”
“Well, I guess that means they won’t let me off the island to see Peter.” I said as I came out of the bathroom showered and wearing clean clothes. I had to admit after a few hours of good sleep I wasn’t so grumpy.
Frances looked concerned. “The test results on the reality woman’s death came back. It seems that she did indeed eat poisoned fudge.”
“Oh.” I made a face. “That had to be bad.”
“It’s not so good for you either,” Frances said.
There was a pounding at the apartment door before I could ask why. “I’ll get it.”
I opened it to find two police officers outside. One was Office Lasko. I was not a favorite of hers. “Good morning,” I said as cheerily as possible. “Can I offer you two some coffee?”
“No, thank you,” Officer Polaski said.
“We need you to come down to the station immediately,” Officer Lasko stated with a good amount of glee.
“Okay, why?” I asked.
“I’ve already called my cousin,” Frances said. She stood beside me with her hands on her hips. “Allie, don’t say anything until he gets here.”
“Should we read her her rights?” The younger office asked.
Lasko’s right eye twitched. “Not yet. We’re only asking questions at this time. Allie McMurphy is a person of interest in the ongoing investigation of the poisoning death of Cathy Unger. Miss McMurphy, please come with us.”
“Okay,” I said as Lasko took me by the arm and forcefully showed me the way out. I glanced over my shoulder. “Tell your cousin William to meet me at the station.”
Frances picked up Mal and held her. “Remember, don’t say anything until your lawyer comes. You have rights, don’t let them trample them.”
“Will do,” I said and noticed how the lobby, usually dead this time of day, was suddenly filled with people milling about. One such person was Liz. “Hey, Liz,” I said and waved as the police officers escorted me from the building.
“Allie, wait, what do you know about the attack on Chef Thomas?”
“Can’t talk now.” I pointed out the police. “I’m kind of busy. But I’ll give you an exclusive when I get back.”
Sandy was coming in as I was escorted out. “Cancel today’s fudge demonstrations,” I instructed her. “Today’s specials are posted on the wall.”
“Don’t worry,” Sandy shouted after me. “I’ll make sure you keep running.”
“Don’t forget to work on your centerpieces.”
“Will do,” Sandy said and disappeared into the McMurphy. The streets were far less crowded this time of day as the ferries started running at eight AM and the first boats of tourists hadn’t come in yet. Thankfully only those who stayed on the island would watch as Lasko escorted me down the street to the white administration building. I went in happy that my hands weren’t cuffed and that I had put shoes on when I got up this morning.
“I hope you have coffee,” I said and stifled a yawn. “I’m going to need it.”
“You won’t be so nonchalant when we arrest you,” Officer Lasko said with her you-are-the-bad-guy voice.
“What are you arresting me for?”
“We are not arresting you,” Rex said as Lasko escorted me to a tiny conference room. “I need to ask you some important questions about the reality show.”
“She lawyered up,” Lasko said as she put me into a room and closed and locked the door.
Rex came in twenty minutes later with a Styrofoam cup full of black coffee. “Hi, Allie, please have a seat.”
“I need to stand if that’s okay with you. Where’d you go yesterday? And why all the drama?” I waved my hand toward the door.
“Sorry about that.” Rex sat down and pushed the coffee over to my side of the table. “Lasko wants to be in a crime drama.”
I blew out a breath and picked up the coffee. It was black and thick, which was pretty much what I needed right now. “What’s going on, Rex?”
“You know your friend Peter Thomas was attacked last night.”
“Yes, I heard. First you put me in a small conference room at the Grand, and then I fell asleep, and when you didn’t show, I left.”
“Again, my apologies.” Rex ran a hand over his face. “We don’t usually have so much excitement on island. I’ll have another talk with Lasko about communication. When I got delayed she was supposed to let you know you could go home.”
“I don’t think leaving me there was an accident.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” I wrapped my left arm around my waist and clung to the coffee cup. “It’s not important. What is important is that I wanted to be with Peter, but Frances said it would be best if I didn’t go. Why is that, Rex? I consider Peter a good friend. Has anyone contacted his family? His daughter should know. Someone should be there.”
“Calls have been made. I have an officer with him. He won’t be alone when he wakes up.”
“Good.”
“You spoke to Jessop the other day.”
“Yes, I did.” I sipped my coffee. “He wanted to know if I still held a grudge. I told him no. I explained why you all got a warrant to check out Jessop Compost and Mulch.”
“Who else have you spoken to about the bone bits?”
“No one.” I wrinkled my forehead. “Wait—Liz knows, but not because I told her. She was there when we found the first pieces. Remember?”
“I do,” Rex said. “As was Daisy.”
That memory brought a smile to my face. “Do you still have Daisy and Mrs. Finch in lockup? Or did Daisy pass the bone?” I made a face. “I would not want to be the one on duty to check.”
Rex grumbled. “Daisy is in lockup. Mrs. Finch is still protesting.”
“Is all of this connected?” I tilted my head thoughtfully.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d tell me. You seem to be up to your eyeballs in all three investigations.” His pretty blue gaze studied me.
“I don’t know how that happened.” I sat down, nervous for the first time. “Mal found the mulched bones. Then Peter asked me to do this favor for him, and now here I am, exhausted and worried because a woman died and a man I admire is unconscious in the hospital.”
He waited for my thoughts to catch up with me.
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��Then there’s my first solo Lilac Festival. Thankfully Jenn, Sandy, and Frances have a handle on the fest.” I grew quiet. “You have questions for me?”
“Did you know Heather Karus?”
“Who?” I scrunched my forehead and shook my head.
“Heather Karus. She’s a local. Her family’s been on the island for almost fifty years. Her dad was a smithy at Jessop Stables. Her mom was a housekeeper. Heather let everyone know she was above her family. She left the island to get her MBA but didn’t like it. Last I heard she went to culinary school and returned when her mom took sick.”
“Oh, no, I never met her. I mostly knew my grandparents’ friends. What does Heather have to do with any of this?”
“What about Cathy Unger? It’s been reported that she, Amber and Erin bested you on tape the night Cathy died. Is that true?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “But that was my fault. I showed up late. They couldn’t let me win.”
“That’s not how it looks on film.”
I blew out a breath and dropped my shoulders. “They edit that stuff for conflict. Forget I said that. I can’t legally tell you anything about the show.”
“That’s pretty much the reaction I got when I interviewed the other cast members.” Rex sat back. “Their lawyer is slick. He thinks he’s dealing with a backwoods police force.”
“He doesn’t know about your time in Detroit?”
Rex shook his head. “Let’s not disabuse him of his opinion,” Rex said. “It works to my advantage to be considered a bumpkin.”
There was a knock on the door. Rex took a deep breath and blew it out. “Speak of the devil.”
The door opened. “Sorry to interrupt,” Officer Lasko said when she opened the door. “I’ve got two lawyers here who claim to be representing Allie McMurphy.”
“Two?” I asked.
“Two.” Lasko opened the door wider, and Frances’s cousin William and a second more well-dressed man tried to beat each other through the door.
The two popped through roughly at the same time. Rex stood. “I’ll let you work this out.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Rex left and closed the door behind him. William was slower and the slicker, well-dressed man grabbed Rex’s chair. “Allie? I’m Mark Abrahms. I’m the attorney the show has on staff. It’s my job to ensure you are fairly represented in any inquiries.”
“Hi, Allie, Frances called me. Since we have a history together I’m certain you want me to be your lawyer in this case.” He shuffled his portly body from one leg to the other and placed his briefcase on the table.
“Gentlemen.” I sat back and studied them both. “Mr. Abrahms, Mr. Wentworth has represented me in the past. I have a history with him and he understands my personal requirements.”
William puffed his chest up. “Get out of the chair, my man. It’s me she wants.”
“That said”—I gave William the staredown—“Mr. Abrahms understands the contract that I signed for the show backward and forward, don’t you, Mr. Abrahms?”
“I wrote it.”
“Then it’s clear I need both of you.” I got up and pushed my chair over to the other side of the table. “Sit down, William. We need to find out what’s going on.”
“I don’t want to take your chair,” he protested.
“It’s fine,” I said and picked up my nearly empty coffee cup. “I don’t want to sit.”
“Let’s begin, shall we?” Mr. Abrahms asked and pulled a notepad out of his briefcase. “What have you told the officer?”
“Even more important, in my opinion,” I said, “What did the officer tell you?”
CHAPTER 23
“The parade starts in ten minutes,” Frances announced as I stepped back into the McMurphy for the first time since my ignominious escort out.
“The crowd is huge this year,” I said and hung up my jacket. The June mornings started out chilly but quickly warmed up.
A glance out the front windows showed that people were five or six deep from the front door to the road. In the back people had kids on their shoulders and stood on step stools. So many backs were pressed to the glass that no one could see inside to the racks of fudge offered.
“It’s very rare to have an entire parade of horse-drawn vehicles,” I said. “I remember as a kid being so excited when the festival started. I dreamed of being the Lilac Festival queen or maybe the princess and getting to ride in the white carriage and carry flowers while I waved at the crowd.”
Sandy giggled as she came from behind the counter. “The festival queen is picked by the students in the island’s public schools. Did you go to school here?”
“No, and let me say when I found out you had to be a full-time islander I begged and pleaded with my parents to let me move in with Grammy and Papa. But they said no. As an adult I can understand why. I was only eight years old, after all.”
“I love parades.” Jenn came downstairs. “We have a great view. Shall I take pictures?”
“That’s a great idea,” I said. “We can put them on the McMurphy Web site. That way people can see if they stay with us they can watch the parade from their room windows.”
“Brilliant.” Jenn grinned. “I’m running upstairs for my camera.”
“How are we on fudge?” I asked Sandy. “Sorry I was busy this morning. That was not planned.”
“I kind of got that,” Sandy said. “I think the police officers on either side of you were the biggest tip-off. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Rex wanted to question me.”
“Did he?”
“The lawyers wouldn’t let him.”
“Lawyers, as in more than one?” Sandy tilted her head and studied me as if I were a new and interesting bug.
“Lawyers—as in two,” I replied and took a clean chef jacket out of the drawer where I stored jackets and dishtowels. “Frances’s cousin William is my current lawyer and then the show provided a fancy one from Chicago.”
“Wow, you one-two’ed him.” She made fists with her hands and made a knockout punch.
I laughed. “I didn’t need all that. Rex was simply trying to figure out what all is going on. Between the bones and then the chef show incidents, he is running ragged.”
“That female officer looked like she would cuff you in a heartbeat.”
“Right?” My eyes widened. “She doesn’t like me much.”
“Huh, that wasn’t the least bit evident . . .” She shook her head at her own sarcasm.
“I’m going to sugar lilac flowers for this week’s festivities. I meant to do it last night but got carried away.”
“I’ve got some fresh blooms,” Frances said and went out the back and brought in armfuls of the fragrant blossoms.
I mixed up the dried egg white as Sandy put out the blotting paper and the fine berry sugar.
“That’s a lot of blooms,” Sandy said.
Frances smiled. “I just love them.”
The sounds of the parade outside filled the air and mixed with the scent of lilacs. We worked quickly and carefully, picking each petal, dipping it, and then rolling it gently in sugar. Tweezers helped us handle them without crushing.
Finally we finished as the parade ended with the parade marshal, Mrs. Hutchins, in Victorian dress, waving and tossing out individually wrapped pieces of fudge.
As the crowds broke up, we cleared the sugared petals to dry on drying racks and I started up the lilac fudge base. A demonstration now held a fascinated audience. Frances opened the door wide to let the fresh air in and the scent of lilac fudge out.
It was days like this that reminded me why I had worked my whole life to this one end—entertaining fudge making on a brilliant lake island.
CHAPTER 24
“What do you know about Heather Karus?” I asked Frances. It was Saturday morning and I worked on my laptop in the lobby of the McMurphy while Mal slept at my feet. That way I was readily available to help her with the burgeoning Lilac Festival crowds.<
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“Heather? She’s a pretty girl. I believe she was the Lilac Festival queen her senior year. Why?” Frances asked from her perch behind the reception desk, working on her reservations.
“Something Rex said this morning. Do you know what she did for a living?”
“What do you mean did?”
“I have a feeling Heather may be our bone donor.”
“Oh,” Frances gasped. “Really? Why?”
“Rex asked me if I knew her and since she isn’t a member of the cast or crew of the reality show, I’m guessing she’s our body.”
“Oh, poor thing,” Frances frowned and went back to her computer. “She recently came back to us. I believe she was interviewing for the head pastry chef at the Grander Hotel.”
“Huh, Tammy Gooseworthy has that position,” I said and pursed my lips. “What is with her anyway?”
“What do you mean?” Frances turned to me, took off her reading glasses, and gave me her full attention.
“She was following Peter around, trying to audition for the cast of the show.”
“Ah, well, she has always been supercompetitive,” Frances said. “I remember when the school was having a fund-raiser and a bake sale the year she was a sixth grader. That girl went door-to-door drumming up business and was proud of her trophy for raising the most money.”
“She was like that when she was twelve?”
“And later, she won all the awards in school. The girl was a fiend about beating everyone.” Frances shook her head. “It was an island-wide relief when she went away to college. There’s something not right about her intensity and need to win.”
“You know, she followed me into the casting salon, telling me that she should be on the show and not me or any of the other cast members.”
“Really? What did you say?”
“I sent her to the producer. Let her terrorize him for a while. Besides, that’s not how these shows work.”
“It’s not?” Frances said.
“No, it’s not,” I said, “and that’s all I have to say about it.” I typed Heather’s name into my search engine. Up popped pictures of the Lilac Festival and a lovely girl with light brown hair and blond streaks. She waved her hand at the people watching the parade.
