To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes)

by Nancy CoCo

  Her bio online included an impressive number of achievements in high school and college. Then another interesting fact came to life. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Did you know that Tammy’s brother Fred was dating Heather?” I asked. “Here’s a picture of them in high school and according to her Facebook page, they were still a couple.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember asking Steven when those two were going to get married. It was hinted that it would be this time next year.”

  “If Heather is missing, why wouldn’t Fred mention that?”

  “I think Fred is overseas right now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He’s at Le Cordon Bleu doing a year of French cooking.” Frances took off her reading glasses. “Come to think of it, Heather might have gone over there to visit. I can find out if you want.”

  “Sure,” I said. “It still doesn’t tell me why Officer Manning was asking me about Heather. I figured he really came to question me because Tammy raised a ruckus about my being in the reality show.” I shrugged. “Maybe there’s a connection there somewhere.”

  “Speaking of the show, aren’t you supposed to be shooting tonight?”

  “They released everyone to go off island to shoot footage of their home and family. Since I live here,they can film me anytime,” I said absently.

  “Better let Mr. Devaney know in advance. He doesn’t like surprises.”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “Let him know that they’ll be popping in unannounced. They want to catch us off guard to get the ‘real’”—I made air quotes—“us. So that should anyone come to see us or stay at the McMurphy they can see the piece and say, yes it’s really like that.”

  Frances laughed. “Oh, dear.”

  “Have you heard anything from Peter or his daughter?” I asked.

  “No, there are no further updates.”

  “I still feel as if I should go visit.”

  “They wouldn’t let you past the visitors’ waiting room,” Frances reminded me. “Besides, we need you here for the festival.”

  “I can’t make centerpieces and fudge,” Sandy said from the other side of the glass wall. Sandy used the fudge kitchen to do her chocolate sculpture. It was the perfect solution as we closed the fudge shop down by seven PM. The lights in the kitchen were bright enough that people could gather at the window and watch her work. “Besides, you know the McMurphy fudge recipe and I don’t.”

  “It’s a good thing or you’d beat me at my own talent,” I tossed back.

  Sandy shook her head at my silliness. My thoughts went to our competition and then Tammy Gooseworthy’s competition. “Wait, is Tammy the same Gooseworthy family that owns the Island Mulch and Compost Center?”

  “Yes,” said Frances as she looked at her screen through the bottoms of her lenses. “Ed Gooseworthy is her father.”

  I didn’t like where my thoughts went next. “You don’t think Tammy would be capable of putting a body in the chipper-shredder. Do you?”

  Frances paused and looked at me. “No, I don’t. Do you know how messy that would be? Tammy hated her father’s business because it was smelly. That girl gives neat and OCD the same name. Have you ever seen her with a spot on her?”

  “Well, I’ve only seen her twice, but now that you mention it both times she was wrinkle free and sparkling white.”

  “It’s an obsession,” Frances said. “There’s no way she would do anything as messy as disposing of a body.”

  “Ok,” I said. “Then is there anyone she knows who might do that for her?”

  “Now that is a different question,” Frances said and tapped her chin. “Ed employs mainland workers for the season. Then there is his foreman Vincent Gross. Those guys are used to dealing with rotting vegetation on a daily basis. I doubt one body would bother them one way or the other.”

  “Well that is certainly suspicious.” I closed up my laptop. “But there is no real motive for them to kill anyone and an act so terrible must be motivated by terrible emotions.”

  “Unless it was an accident,” Frances said.

  “How do you accidently kill someone and throw their body in a chipper-shredder?”

  “That’s a good point,” Frances said. “This is all speculation. For all you know Heather is in Paris with Fred.”

  “True.” I pouted. “Come on, Mal, let’s go out for your night walk.”

  Mal popped up and stretched, then wagged her little tail. When I pulled her leash off the hall tree, she started to do twirls.

  “You like to go out, don’t you?” I said as I put her halter on and then attached the leash. A quick look at the time told me it was nine PM. I had to be honest—I didn’t like it when Officer Lasko escorted me through the streets like a common criminal. I needed to do something about that.

  I opened the back door and let Mal pull me across the alley to the small patch of grass. The night was cool and clear. The stars were particularly clear.

  “Will you call in your lawyers if I say hello?”

  “Oh, hi, Rex,” I said. “Are you lurking here to talk to me?”

  “Not lurking, taking a shortcut to my place.” He stepped up to me. “It’s a shame you had your lawyers stop our discussion. That’s all it was, you know, a discussion.”

  “I know that, but they don’t and they are being paid to be suspicious.” Mal finished her squat and came over to bounce up for Rex to pat her on the head.

  “Hello there, girl,” he said and stroked her under the chin. “Did you check out Heather?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I asked you about Heather to see what you could discover about her.”

  “Ah, sneaky.” I turned down the alley away from the McMurphy and the police station to the quieter side of the island. “In fact, I did. You’re not thinking she’s our bony victim, are you?”

  “We got a partial jawbone with some identifying dental work. We should know the person’s ID soon.”

  “And are you sure it’s only one person?”

  “We’re ruling out multiple bodies at this time.” Rex shook his head. “It’s not likely more than one body went through the mulcher. Hiding more than one body is extremely difficult.”

  “That makes sense.” I took a deep breath of soft summer air. “Heather is dating Tammy Gooseworthy’s brother Fred. Right? Frances thinks she might have gone to Paris to visit him.”

  “When I get the ID on the jawbone I’ll check out that connection.”

  “So you are pretty sure it’s Heather. Why?”

  “The rumors don’t add up.”

  “You don’t believe she ran off to Paris to see Fred?” I asked.

  “It’s not what I believe,” he said, his expression grim. “I called Paris. Fred hasn’t seen her. As much as I don’t want it to be Heather, she appears to be a missing person, which makes her my number one suspected victim.”

  “Let’s hope she calls home soon,” I said.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Have you heard the news?” Jenn’s voice came through my cell phone early Sunday morning.

  “What news?” I had hit speaker when it rang so that I could continue experimenting with my second lilac fudge—this one dark chocolate cream. The base boiled in my copper pot.

  “They identified the bones from the mulch.”

  “It’s Heather Karus—” we said at the same time.

  “When did you hear the news?” Jenn pouted. “I thought I had an exclusive because I was in the police station when the call came from the lab.”

  “Oh, right, you and Shane—How is that going?” I asked. In my mind it was a bit of a mismatched pair.

  “Oh, it’s going well,” Jenn said. “We may be passing the ‘just dating’ stage and into the ‘sort of a thing’ stage.”

  I laughed. “Soon to be ‘a thing.’”

  “If I have anything to say about it.”

  “I didn’t hear the announcement about Heather. Rex had his suspicions and asked me if I knew h
er. Thankfully nothing ties her to me. So at least on that issue I’m not a suspect. Although if Officer Lasko had her way she’d figure out how it was my fault.”

  “How’s your friend Peter?”

  “I haven’t heard,” I said and took a small glass bowl with ice water in it and spooned out the boiling base to see if it created a soft ball in the water. “His daughter, Constance, promised she’d call me the minute he wakes up.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. Unfortunately I am linked to Cathy and Peter. The producers are very close to giving up on the show altogether. If Peter doesn’t wake up in the next two days they’ll either get a substitute or pack it in.”

  “My guess is they’ll bring in a substitute host. Will Peter be angry to wake up to being replaced?”

  “I don’t know,” I said and dumped the water. The base had to boil a little longer before it would set up properly. “Maybe,” I said. “Frankly, I was surprised to see him linked to this kind of show. It doesn’t seem his thing.”

  “Maybe the school put him up to it. It’s terrific publicity.”

  “Yes, that’s what they keep telling me,” I said and put new ice water in the glass bowl. “How’s the first tea planning coming? It’s this afternoon, right? If this fudge comes out I’ll debut it.”

  “Yes, everything is ready,” Jenn said. “We will have five tables of six. I’ve got lilac-colored linens for the tables and delicate white chairs on rent. Did you see the so-called simple chocolate centerpieces that Sandy did?”

  “I did,” I said. “She’s an artist.”

  The first set of centerpieces was made of delicate boughs of chocolate lilacs surrounded with white chocolate leaves. Sandy had built molds of the tiny trumpets with delicate petaled tops as well as molds of the branches. She’d made the chocolate, poured it in the molds, carefully separated each petal, and placed it on the branch connecting them with tiny drops of liquid chocolate.

  The centerpieces rested inside clear plastic boxes in the large candy freezer downstairs.

  “I’ve created place cards and got the ‘All Things Print’ shop off Market Street to donate the printing. These are hand-printed with an old press on handmade paper. The name tags match the place cards and the invitations. It’s enough to make a Victorian lady of the finest breeding sigh in satisfaction,” Jenn said.

  “It’s times like this that I’m sad that the McMurphy doesn’t have a stretch of lawn like the Grand or the Island House. We could totally create an outdoor afternoon tea.”

  “Ooh, I like that,” Jenn said. “I’ll work on that for next year. Ok, I’ve got to go—my sexy scientist is ready to go.”

  “See you in a couple hours,” I said and hung up. I tested the fudge base again and was happy with the soft ball in the ice water. It was an old-fashioned way of doing things. Now they had digital thermometers that read out the stage the boiling fudge was in. Somehow there was something more satisfying in trusting my own skill.

  When I finished the fudge, I let it cool, then folded in bits of white chocolate infused with lilac. In the end I was satisfied with the recipe. So I cut it into single pieces, placed them in delicate paper cups, garnished them with sugared lilac, and took them downstairs.

  The tea went off without a hitch. We had a three-piece orchestra in the back corner where the coffee bar usually stood. Jenn finished the afternoon by asking guests to write their get-well thoughts for the children on handmade paper using a quill and inkwell. We were careful to use ink blotters and offered Lava soap to scrub away any ink residue.

  As I thanked the ladies for coming and reminded them that the proceeds were going to the children’s clinic, Liz walked into the hotel.

  “You might want to keep some of those proceeds for your lawyer.”

  “Why?” I asked. “I never met Heather.”

  “The poison that killed Cathy was found in the fudge you made.”

  I froze. “What? How can they say that? If my fudge was filled with poison then all of the judges would be dead. I watched them all taste the fudge. We have footage.”

  “The contents of her stomach don’t lie. The last thing she ate was your fudge. There is corroborating evidence in the residue of the gingham fabric it was carried in.” Liz pulled out a pocket recorder. “What are your thoughts on this new discovery?”

  “My thoughts?” I swallowed hard, my brain searching for reason. “One: I didn’t poison the fudge. Two: I didn’t have a reason to kill Cathy. And three: Don’t you think you ought to be looking for whoever put Peter Thomas in a coma?”

  “Is it true you don’t have an alibi for the night Peter Thomas was bludgeoned?”

  “Oh, for crying out loud.” I shook my head. “I was put in a conference room by Police Officer Rex Manning.”

  “But you didn’t stay there. You went home at some unknown time.”

  “I didn’t stay there because Officer Manning never came back. I have a witness for what time I returned.” I waved my hand to Frances. “Frances was here when I returned.”

  “According to an eyewitness, Chef Thomas humiliated you on camera.”

  “I was late and Chef Thomas doesn’t excuse lateness. It doesn’t mean I hurt him.”

  “Cathy and Erin’s team beat you out of first place that night. How competitive are you?”

  “Not that competitive,” I said. “Come on, Liz this is nuts.”

  “If so then why have the police issued a warrant for your arrest?”

  “What? No—They have no proof. They couldn’t have. Because I didn’t do it.”

  “Better call your lawyers,” Liz said and turned off her recorder. “Because Officer Lasko is going to be here in a few minutes with her handcuffs.”

  “What’s going on?” Jenn said as she stopped by us. “Liz, you missed a great afternoon tea. I’m thinking the second tea set up for next week is going to draw an even bigger crowd. Should I tell them to come dressed in Victorian garb? That might be a fun twist.”

  “Jenn, call my lawyer,” I said as I moved to the back door.

  “Why?”

  “Liz, tell her why,” I said and stuffed my arms through my Windbreaker. It was overcast and the wind off the lake was cool. Mal followed me out, poking me on the leg the entire time. “No, Mal,” I said frustrated. “Stay!”

  “Where are you going?” Jenn asked.

  “To see Rex before Lasko gets here with her handcuffs.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Jenn said. She picked up Mal, and they both watched me trudge out into the alley and down to the administration building.

  If they did have a warrant for my arrest, I wanted to turn myself in. The last thing I needed was to be dragged through the street in handcuffs. No matter how much Lasko wanted to do it. What did I ever do to that girl? I didn’t have a clue.

  I walked straight to Rex’s office. “What is this ridiculous rumor that there’s a warrant out for my arrest?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “I have my sources,” I said and sat down in the left chair of two that faced his desk. His office was cramped by the big desk he worked at. Funny how he could look like an action figure even when doing paperwork behind a desk in a tiny office.

  “Darn it, I told Lasko to let me bring you in.” Rex slapped down the pen he had in his hand. “Did she make a scene?”

  I held up my wrists. “I got here before she could. Now please tell me what is going on? Because I know I didn’t poison Cathy Unger or put Peter into a coma.”

  Rex got up and closed his office door. “What about your lawyers?”

  “I’m not paying them. So let’s figure this out so that we can both go home happy.”

  “You were the last one to see Cathy,” Rex said. “We have a time-stamped piece of video showing that you both went in to the bathroom but only you came out.”

  “Nice try but that is not motive or means of murder.” I crossed my arms.

  “Cathy Unger was poisoned by a piece of your
fudge. Fudge that we have film evidence of you making.”

  “If I had poisoned the fudge then every one of those judges would be dead. They tasted the fudge I cooked. I have no idea what fudge Cathy tasted or even why she tasted it. When I left her she was talking about my character on the show possibly going into the finals—”

  “Your fingerprints were lifted off the gingham square the fudge was wrapped in.”

  “I touched all those squares when I tried to figure out how best to plate my fudge.”

  “No one else had reason to kill Cathy. You, on the other hand, stand to win a one-hundred-thousand-dollar competition. It is a competition, right?”

  “The winner gets a check, yes. They are also expected to do two tours of promotion to ensure the series gets plenty of press.” I raised my chin and narrowed my eyes. “I don’t have time for promotion tours and I never planned to win. And I certainly don’t need to kill off the competition to win.”

  “You didn’t mean to kill Cathy—only make her sick enough to miss the competition.”

  “Is that the reasoning you’re going with? Because it’s still wrong. Rex, seriously, I have no need or desire to kill anyone.”I blew out a breath. “I’m going to say this only one more time. I agreed to be part of the cast when my friend and mentor, Chef Thomas, begged me. He told me that one of the cast members bowed out at the last minute. He promised me there would only be a couple nights shooting as I would most likely be voted off early. I agreed to do it as a publicity bit for the fudge shop. I’m thinking about offering fudge for sale online year-round.”

  I ran a hand over my face and rubbed my temples. “I don’t care that much about the competition.”

  “That’s not what it looks like when we run the footage. They say you can’t hide the truth from the camera.”

  “They also say the camera adds ten pounds,” I quipped. “Neither one is anything I want to think about.” I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Really, Rex—I come in as a friend and get questioned like the main suspect. What’s up with that?”

  “I have to ask the tough questions.” His blue eyes were clear as day and flat like a cop’s should be. “Now, did Cathy tell you anything that might suggest she was in danger?”