Chocolate-Covered Crime

by Cynthia Hickey

  His nickname used to fill me with anger when we were kids; now it caressed me with love. “You can help me again. Come with me when I ask questions.”

  “Who’s on your suspect list this time?”

  “No one. Yet.”

  “Then I’ll pray you find out nothing and stay safe.” He kissed me, sending bolts of electricity through my body. I thought, in a roundabout way, he’d given his permission. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  He sauntered to his truck. With the rising moon casting him in silhouette, he raised a hand in farewell before driving away. I couldn’t wait until he didn’t have to leave at a decent hour. When I could, instead, grasp his hand and lead him into our home, our bedroom. This house. Left to me by my parents. Eight more months. Then we’d be married, and my aunt and uncle moved into the new guesthouse being erected on a far corner of the land.

  With a sigh, I rose to my feet and pulled open the squeaky screen door. Aunt Eunice turned her head from the game show on TV.

  “I wondered how long you were going to give the neighbors something to talk about. You know how people are in this small town.” In her mind, I would perpetually be a teenager. “And would you tell me what all those letters piled on the floor of your closet mean?”

  Case in point—I live with my aunt and uncle. I have no privacy.

  “Did you open them?”

  She shook her head.

  “Come upstairs, and I’ll show you.”

  Aunt Eunice bounded from her chair, patted my glued-to-the-television uncle on the shoulder, then followed. Once inside my bedroom, I closed the door. A mound of envelopes in every shape, size, and color lay on the floor of my closet. From beneath my bed, I pulled a plastic bag then dumped its contents. More envelopes spilled out.

  “I don’t know what to do. I can’t possibly answer them all.” Especially since I’d been ignoring them for weeks.

  “Who are they from?” Aunt Eunice picked up a pastel pink one.

  “Fans. People asking for help.” I plopped on the mattress sending letters fluttering to the floor. “They’ve been arriving at the candy store since I solved the murder at the carnival.”

  “You’re famous.” She ripped the envelope open. “This one is a proposal of marriage. You should show it to Ethan.” She tossed it and opened another. “This one wants to hire you to find their missing dog. Maybe you’ve found a good source of a second income.”

  I went over to my nightstand and pulled a letter on navy-colored stationery from the drawer. “This one is a threat. I found it stuffed between the screen and the door when I came home today. Whoever sent it was unoriginal enough to cut letters from a newspaper or magazine.”

  Aunt Eunice’s eyes widened as she read.

  “Do not get involved. Is your life worth tracking down who killed a socially inept, abrasive personality of a woman?” She flipped the page over. “One who destroyed the dreams of those around her? ”

  Her hand shook. “This person killed Mae Belle and has way too much free time. They must also know how nosy you are. Why else would they think you might try to solve your cousin’s murder? You haven’t been talking about it around town already, have you?”

  “My thoughts exactly. And no, I haven’t been talking. This person’s prepared. We’ve only been home from the hospital for a few hours.” I fell backward, sending more letters sliding to the floor. “How do I keep getting myself into these things?” I groaned. “Ethan is going to kill me—or worse—cancel the wedding.”

  “Your uncle Roy will clean his guns again. In this last year, you’ve been the cause of him having the cleanest guns in Mountain Shadows.” Aunt Eunice started scooping the papers into the bag. “Let’s hide the evidence.”

  I scooted to the floor beside her. “What do I do with the rest of these? Toss them? Burn them?”

  She shrugged. “We’ll figure that out later. Maybe you can hire an assistant, being famous and all.”

  “Ha-ha. Look, I have something else.” I pulled Mae Belle’s appointment book from my tote. “I haven’t had a chance to go through it yet, but I’m betting the name of Mae Belle’s killer is in here.”

  “How did you get that?”

  “I took it off her desk. When Joe told me to go away.”

  My aunt shook her head. “I’m not going to jail again, Summer. That was a very unpleasant experience.”

  “If I find anything, I’ll turn it over to Joe. Until then, I’m taking notes. Then he can have the book.” I flipped it open to this week’s appointments. Most of the days had names scribbled across the page then crossed out. “Wow. It’ll take a lot of time to visit all these people.”

  Aunt Eunice peered over my shoulder. “It looks like she didn’t do just weddings. I see a couple of parties.” She ran her finger down the page. “Why are all the names scratched off ?”

  “It’s not like she was swimming in business. She left a long line of disgruntled customers. People who canceled.” I snapped my fingers. “That’s it. An unhappy patron killed her. We just have to find out who that person was. We can start with this list of crossed-off names. Somebody might know something they aren’t aware they know.”

  “There’s no ‘we’ to this, and don’t jump to any conclusions. I promised your uncle Roy no more detective work. I’m a woman of my word.” She leaned closer to me. “As you should be.”

  “Ethan gave me his permission tonight. Sort of.” I slapped the book closed. “Tomorrow is Sunday. Some of these people will be at church.”

  “Don’t forget we have to pick up Mae Belle’s parents at the airport.” Aunt Eunice groaned as she pushed to her feet. “It’s been two years since I’ve seen my sister. I wish it was under different circumstances. No one should have to lose a child. How will I ever console Claudia?”

  Aunt Claudia was difficult under the most pleasant of conditions. She made her daughter look like the nicest woman in Arkansas. Sighing, I slid the notebook back into my tote, along with the threatening letter. Tomorrow promised to be a full day. I felt certain I would have a suspect by the time of the funeral.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Of course the pastor would choose this Sunday to speak on deceit. It amazed me how the sermons always seemed to fit the situations in my life. No matter what I was doing or dealing with, I’d find some nugget to take away with me. Sometimes not too flavorful of one.

  I swished my straw in the watery whipped cream left in the bottom of my habitual Sunday frozen coffee. Anything to squelch the feelings that swirled like a dust devil in my conscience.

  “ ‘Nor was any deceit in his mouth. . . .’ ”

  My head jerked upright. What was the pastor saying? What did it mean? I glanced at the large screen hanging at the front of the sanctuary. Isaiah 53:9. I flipped through my Bible. The passage spoke of Christ’s death. His innocence and love for us.

  “ ‘Whoever would love life and see good days must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech.’ ”

  Wait. The pastor went too fast. The pages of my Bible rippled as I tried to keep up while searching for 1 Peter 3:10. Keeping my tongue was about gossip, right? Not much of a problem there. But the words about deceitful speech lodged a lump in my throat the size of Pope County, Arkansas.

  Murmuring words of apology, I squeezed past nearby parishioners, then yanked Joe from his seat. “I need to talk to you. Now.” I tossed April a smile of apology.

  With a roll of his eyes, Joe followed me to the annex. “What are you doing? You don’t bolt out in the middle of a sermon.” He crossed his arms. “This better be important. It isn’t every Sunday I’m off work and able to take April to church.”

  I squared my shoulders and pulled the appointment book from my tote. “I found this in Mae Belle’s office.” I held it out to him and breathed a sigh of release when he took it. “I wasn’t honest with you yesterday. There may be a clue inside as to who killed her.”

  Joe chewed the inside of his cheek before answering. “You actually lis
tened to the pastor’s words?”

  Of all the nerve. “I always listen.” I just don’t always hear.

  “Uh-huh.” He flipped through the pages. “I guess I don’t need to ask whether you’ve already looked at it.”

  Looked and memorized the names. “Of course I did. Do you want it or not?”

  “Yes.” He raised his gaze to mine. “What did you plan on doing with these names?”

  “Same as you. I’m going to question everyone in there. I’ll share any information I uncover with you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Stop saying that. You need to work on your vocabulary. Also, I’ve received a lot of mail from folks wanting me to help them solve their own little mysteries. Yesterday, I received this.” I handed him the threatening note and waited for him to read the pasted-on words.

  His brows drew together. “This isn’t funny, Summer.”

  “I didn’t say it was. It’s frightening, actually.” The lump in my throat dissipated. Amazing what clearing your conscience did for a person. Now all I needed to do was come clean with Ethan. “I promise not to keep anything else from you. Will you do the same?”

  “I’m a police officer. I can’t share details of a crime with you.”

  “Is there anything in the law that says I can’t visit with the people on that list?”

  “Visit, no. Interfere with—”

  The church service released, and we were immediately swarmed by people. Hugs for me, handshakes for Joe, and condolences for both of us in regard to Mae Belle’s death. Within minutes we were parted as effectively as Moses parted the Red Sea. Ethan swept through the throng and whisked me outside. I tossed my empty coffee cup in the nearest trash bin.

  “There’s no time for socializing. Not if we’re going to get to the airport on time.” He led me to my car, situated me in the passenger seat, then loped to the driver’s side. “Sorry to yank you away, but we’re in danger of being late.”

  “No problem.” He’d only saved me from a lecture I preferred not to hear. I put on my seat belt. It’d be better to tell him of my falsehood while he drove. He wouldn’t be able to get too upset. In true Summer fashion, once I decided on an action, I spilled my guts and vomited out everything from taking the book to receiving the note.

  Ethan’s jaw clenched as he kept his eyes on the road. “Why do you insist on not being truthful with me?”

  “It’s not that I’m lying, just withholding information.”

  “Same thing.” For the next thirty minutes the silence in the car screamed, banging against my eardrums. My gaze kept flickering to Ethan’s clenched jaw. His anger didn’t bother me, much. It never lasted long. The fact he was disappointed in me, did.

  Finally, Ethan pulled my hand from my lap and tightened his fingers around mine. “I love you, Summer. I can’t keep you safe if you keep things from me.”

  “I’m working on it, Ethan. I am. The note wasn’t put on our porch until late afternoon.”

  “You could have called me.” He spared me a glance.

  “What could you have done?” I rubbed his calloused palm with my thumb.

  He shrugged and focused back on the road ahead of us. “You didn’t give me the chance to do anything. Not come over and reassure you—nothing.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What are the names in Mae Belle’s book? Maybe I can shed some light on this for you.”

  Ethan had to be the most wonderful man in the world. Gnawing my bottom lip, I forced my memory to remember the names. “Hubert Smith.”

  “The dentist? Makes sense. He was engaged to Edna Mobley, but they canceled.”

  Hence the marks through their names. “Renee Richards.”

  “The Princess of Mountain Shadows? What would she

  want with Mae Belle? Her fiancé is in Iraq.”

  “Mason White.”

  Ethan frowned. “I’ve heard the name but don’t think I know him. Wait. Yes, I do. A playboy. Was a grade behind me in high school. Who else?”

  “Larry Bell.”

  “Why would a farmer need Mae Belle’s services? Anyone else?” I shook my head. “Quite a motley list and not very big.”

  “All the names were scratched out. Like cancellations.” The airport came into view, and I glanced at my watch. “The plane lands in ten minutes. We made it.”

  The security at Little Rock National Airport being what it was, we opted to wait for Mae Belle’s parents next to the baggage claim. Voices rose and fell as suitcases tumbled onto the carousel to be snatched up by waiting hands. Hugs were passed around like cookies at Christmas. I smiled at the joyous reunions.

  Finally, Claudia Sweeney approached, shuffling her feet. A woman as large as Mae Belle had been skinny. Beside her, a firm grip on her elbow, ambled my Uncle Fred, who resembled a praying mantis, minus the green. Aunt Claudia lumbered up to me. Her glare could have burned through steel.

  “Summer Meadows, what are you doing to find the man who did this to my baby girl? Don’t say you ain’t doing nothing. You meddle in everyone else’s business. Now you got to take care of your own.”

  “Uh.” I shrank back. “We don’t know that it was a man.”

  “Don’t mince words with me. What are you planning to do?”

  “The police are handling things.”

  She raised her arm. I thought for a moment she would strike me. The woman’s face fell. She covered her head with her hands and wailed. Then she tossed her arms over her head. Her fists clutched the tight gray curls spiraled on top of her head.

  Help me out, Lord. I laid a trembling hand on her arm, not sure how to handle someone else’s hysterics, despite having shown plenty of my own during my life. Ethan deserted me with a sheepish look and took Uncle Fred to collect the luggage. I’d deal with him later.

  Aunt Claudia lifted red-rimmed eyes to mine. “By police, you mean my nephew, Joe.” She shook her head. “He’s the definition of a bumbling country boy if I ever saw one. You’ll have to do this for me, Summer.”

  “I’ll do my best, Aunt Claudia. But give Joe some credit. He’s done just fine as our chief of police.”

  That didn’t satisfy my aunt, who kept after me until I vowed. Whatever it took, I’d find Mae Belle’s killer.

  Aunt Claudia clasped me to her massive bosom, threatening to suffocate me within her mounds of flesh. “You are the sweetest thing. I’ll help you however I can. Now let’s go and see my sister.”

  To accommodate Aunt Claudia’s bulk, we had her sit up front, with the seat as far back as it would go. Uncle Fred folded himself in behind Ethan, and I hugged my knees for the hour drive home.

  After Ethan pulled between Aunt Eunice’s and Uncle Roy’s matching 1962 Chevy pickups, I breathed a sigh of relief and toppled out of the car. My legs had fallen asleep.

  Aunt Claudia shook her head. “Get up, girl. We have work to do.”

  “Are you all right?” Ethan rushed to my side and helped me to my feet.

  “I can’t feel my legs.”

  He chuckled and swung me into his arms. His long strides carried us past my relatives, and he deposited me on the porch swing. “I’ll be back after I help your uncle with the suitcases.”

  I enjoyed the view as he marched away then marveled as his muscles bunched beneath the royal blue polo shirt he wore as he hefted the luggage. Did he feel the same when he watched me? Petite, thin, with a head of red hair I dyed brown and called auburn? I sighed and rubbed the prickly feeling from my tingling legs. Definitely, God hadn’t spared any decoration when creating Ethan.

  “Claudia!” Aunt Eunice barged through the screen door and wrapped her plump arms halfway around her sister. Aunt Claudia abruptly burst into a loud wail in the middle of the driveway.

  “Oh, you poor thing.” Aunt Eunice kept an arm around the distraught woman and led her into the house. Thank You, Lord, that I didn’t have to comfort her. That was a characteristic God left out of my DNA.

  Legs back to normal, I pushed my foot against
the wood floor of the porch and set the swing into action. How was I going to solve Mae Belle’s murder with the albatross of Aunt Claudia hanging around my neck?

  Conviction pummeled me. I wanted to be more compassionate. I did. I prayed for just an ounce. Enough to help me get Aunt Claudia through the loss of her only child. I straightened my shoulders. I could solve my cousin’s murder and be a shoulder to cry on for my aunt. Hopefully, I’d survive both.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sleep drifted in like mist over a lake, sneaking among my tossing and turning on the sofa. Aunt Claudia and Uncle Fred had gushed their thanks earlier when I offered them my bed. Made me really wish I’d fixed up the spare room for guests instead of using it as a place to store everything that had no home. Sleeping on the couch could be dangerous. At least for me. I tended to roll off.

  The bickering of sibling voices woke me. Soft rays of light sifted through the partially open curtains. I groaned, pushed my cairn terrier, Truly, off my stomach, and pulled the pillow over my head. Even that didn’t drown out the voices coming from the kitchen.

  “She has a book. With Mae Belle’s appointments.”

  “I want to see it.”

  “Settle down, Claudia. I’ve got her tote bag right here. What do you plan on doing with the names?”

  “Hunt down my baby’s killer.”

  They’re going through my bag? I tossed the pillow to the floor and bolted upright.

  “It ain’t here. She must have moved it.”

  “What is all that stuff?”

  “Wedding notes, Claudia.” Papers rustled, and I threw off my blankets. They were going to get everything unorganized.

  “Only a harlot would wear a wedding dress with no shoulders in it.” Aunt Claudia’s voice cut through the walls to my buzzing ears. “Pure and demure. That’s what a bride should be. Is this a shotgun wedding?”

  Heat spread up my neck and set my cheeks on fire.

  “Of course not! Give me that picture.”

  “And what kind of a cake is this? That is not a traditional bride and groom on top. Why, they’re in an embrace! It’s shocking.”