Chocolate-Covered Crime

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Slow down, Summer.” Aunt Eunice clutched her purse to her stomach.

  I glanced at the speedometer. Seventy! I eased my foot off the pedal. “Sorry. We could have this case solved by tonight, Aunt Eunice. Imagine.” Then I could get back to planning my wedding.

  “Don’t jump the gun. Mae Belle had a tendency to be a little wacky. Could be a wild-goose chase. Why didn’t she just leave the clue in her office? Or a safety deposit box? Or mail it? Now that’s a concept.”

  “I don’t know. One thing at a time. I’m just hoping the sofa is still with Bart.”

  My nerves twitched like live wires by the time we arrived at the consignment shop. Right away, my gaze landed on Mae Belle’s seven-foot sofa stuffed in a back corner. Thank You, God. I marched over, lifted a cushion, and unzipped the cover.

  “Excuse me?” Bart’s paunch blocked my view. A stain in the shape of Texas stretched across his belly. “May I help you?”

  “I need to look inside these cushions.” I shoved my hand beneath the cotton fabric feeling nothing but rough foam. I tossed the cushion and grabbed another. Bart snatched it from my hands and leaned over me. I glanced up into a ruddy face with a bulbous nose and flashing green eyes.

  “Stop.”

  I tried standing, bounced off his gut, and landed back where I’d started. I could’ve asked him to move, but his expression told me my request wouldn’t be well received. I kept my gaze focused on his stomach. The stain danced as he breathed.

  “I’m sorry, Bart, but we donated this sofa to you, and we left something in one of the cushions.”

  “I’m not Bart, and anything left is now mine.”

  “Then let me speak to Bart.”

  “There isn’t a Bart.” He spoke slowly and distinctly like he thought I’d have trouble understanding.

  “How much?” Aunt Eunice stepped forward. “We’ll buy the sofa.”

  “Aunt Eunice!”

  Non-Bart backed up and grinned. “Seventy-five dollars.”

  “Sold.” Aunt Eunice wrote him a check while I resumed my digging.

  Aha! Deep in one of the corners, I found a folded triangle of paper. “Got it!”

  “Great.” Aunt Eunice turned back to Non-Bart. “I’m now redonating the sofa and would like a receipt for tax purposes.”

  I smiled. Good ol’ Aunt Eunice. The woman thought of everything. I fairly skipped to my car, the triangle clutched in my fist like a prize.

  “Well, let’s see it.” Aunt Eunice slid into the front seat. “I’ve got a headache from breaking the code. Don’t keep me waiting.”

  I unfolded the paper and groaned. Water stains marred the words. What had Non-Bart done? Cleaned the sofa? I’d need a brighter light than the failing sun to be able to make anything out.

  “It looks like a list.” Aunt Eunice peered at the paper as I drove. “No, a list of thoughts—like clues. Computer, scam, money. . .I can’t make out the rest.”

  “Mae Belle knew something about someone. But what? This whole thing is driving me crazy.”

  “We’re getting closer all the time. Almost as close as you are to that car.” My aunt clutched the dashboard.

  My tires screeched as I slammed on the brakes. Aunt Eunice’s purse hit the floor between her feet. My heart lodged in my throat. The driver of the Cadillac sent me an obscene gesture through his rearview mirror. I waved apologetically in return and willed my pulse to slow.

  “Well, that was fun.” Aunt Eunice retrieved her spilled belongings and straightened. “Best I can figure out from Mae Belle’s waterlogged clues is that someone was a victim of a computer scam. And since most people nowadays have a computer, it could be anyone.”

  I pressed the accelerator. “Mae Belle figured out who was scamming whom, and the rest is history.”

  But where did I go from here? How many people in Mountain Shadows would fall for a computer scam? We might be country, but we weren’t stupid. But were any of us capable of sticking a letter opener in Mae Belle’s back? I shook my head. No, the wielder of the deadly weapon must be the person responsible for the scam.

  I’d really been hoping to find out whose handwriting matched the note on Trashcan’s collar. How could I get a peek at Renee’s handwriting? Her printing, not cursive.

  “You’re speeding again.” Aunt Eunice tightened her seat belt.

  “Sorry.” I needed to get back into A Dream Wedding. There had to be something left from Mae Belle’s planning of Renee’s birthday party.

  I’d go tonight. I pressed harder on the gas pedal.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Dressed in black jeans and a turtleneck sweater, I pulled a knit cap over my head. I didn’t need my hair shining like a red-light special announcing to the world I snooped through A Dream Wedding after hours. I grabbed my bag of investigating tools and sneaked downstairs, avoiding where the floor creaked.

  “Where are you going?”

  I shrieked and whirled. Aunt Eunice stepped around the corner.

  “How did you know I was going anywhere?”

  “These walls are thin, Summer. I heard you getting dressed. It’s a good thing your uncle sleeps like the dead, or you wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

  “I’m going to Mae Belle’s shop. I didn’t have time to search thoroughly earlier.”

  “I’m going with you.” Aunt Eunice moved into the glow from the hall night-light also dressed in dark colors. “I knew you were up to something. I got ready and waited.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “Sneaky woman. You do realize we might get into trouble?”

  “Bring it on, honey.” She giggled and locked the door behind us. “This detective stuff gets under your skin, doesn’t it? Burrows in just like a chigger.”

  “Ethan told me to buy bug spray to take care of the mystery problem. It is kind of like an insect that digs in and doesn’t let go.”

  The closer we got to A Dream Wedding, the sillier we became until we snorted with laughter. My eyes watered. The promise of adventure ensnared us with its euphoria.

  I pulled into the alley behind the store and cut the lights. A street lamp highlighted the door like a portal. I grabbed my bag, exited the car, then stood staring at the building. The alley didn’t afford any glimpse inside. My heart skipped a beat. What if someone waited, lurking in the shadows, with the evil intent of finishing me off? I choked back a scream when Aunt Eunice clapped me on the shoulder.

  “Come on. I’ve got a key. Claudia gave it to me.” She marched forward and unlocked the door. “I’ll turn on the lights.”

  “No, I don’t want anyone to know we’re here this late. Too many questions.” Inside, I flicked on my nifty little flashlight. “I’m looking for anything that matches the handwriting on this.” I handed her the note from Trashcan’s collar.

  “Weren’t you supposed to turn this over to Joe?”

  “Haven’t had the chance. He knows where it is if he wants it.” I ran the light beam over the storage room. “My guess is that one of Mae Belle’s previous clients left their signature, notes, something behind. And whatever it is, it matches this print. I’m going through her office again. You check in front behind the counter.”

  Aunt Eunice pulled a flashlight from under her sweatshirt. “I came prepared.” She brandished it like a warrior’s sword and stalked away, shining the light from one corner of the store to the other.

  My gaze fell on the plateglass window that graced the front of the building. “Stop flashing that light around. You’re announcing to the whole town that we’re in here.”

  “Okeydoke.”

  I headed to my destination, pulled the blinds closed on the office window, then turned on the light. I plopped my bag on the desk and my bottom in Mae Belle’s office chair. She’d spent her inheritance well. The chair cushioned me, folding me in leather softness.

  With a sigh, I glanced around. I’d checked the file cabinet already. Where else could my scatterbrained cousin have stashed notes?

  A Rolodex caught my
attention, and I flipped through the few cards with names and numbers. Every name on my suspect list was in there. I grabbed an empty card and scribbled down the information. Bangs and thuds came from the front of the store.

  “Aunt Eunice?” I dropped the card in my bag.

  “I’m all right. Just looking! Knocked over some ugly statue thing. Its head fell off.”

  I gazed around the room. For something so gaudily decorated, Mae Belle had kept it impossibly neat. Surely one of her clients had written down something she’d kept.

  “Woo-hoo! Found something.”

  Great. I leaped to my feet and sprinted to join my aunt. She handed me a slip of pink paper. “Here.”

  Written in impossibly small and precise print was a note detailing the time and place of Renee Richards’s birthday party, now passed. My hunch was correct. In some way, Renee was involved in Mae Belle’s death.

  The store lit up with a flash of bright light. I squinted against the glare and stumbled backward. “You in the store! Come out with your hands up.” Horror. I grabbed Aunt Eunice’s hand and dragged her with me toward the alley.

  “We’re going to jail. We’re going to jail.” Her chants were interspersed with gasps for air. “Oh Lord, not again.”

  I ducked into Mae Belle’s office, grabbed my bag, then whirled to yank open the back door. “Come on.” I glanced back at my aunt, turned to dart out the door, and ran into a navy-covered chest. The impact knocked me back. My head banged the brick wall behind me. Breath left me.

  “When we got the call about lights, why did I suspect you?” Joe stood with his feet firmly planted even after I plowed into him. I struggled to stand despite the colorful stars blinking in front of my eyes. “And how did I know you’d try to run out the back?”

  “Please, Joe, have mercy.” Aunt Eunice folded her hands as if in prayer. “It was Summer’s idea. Please don’t take us back to jail.”

  He pushed her hands down. “I’m not taking you to jail, but the two of you had better have found something interesting.”

  “Why aren’t you upset?” This didn’t seem like the Joe I’d grown up with. This one sported a grin, like he’d caught us in a joke. Okay, maybe he did resemble the younger Joe, definitely not the stern Big Cop-Man I called him behind his back.

  “I heard in a roundabout way, you know how that lawyer Biggs can’t keep his mouth shut, that Mae Belle left the business to you, dear cousin. So officially, you weren’t trespassing.”

  A Dream Wedding belonged to me? Aunt Claudia would have a coronary. What would I do with it? The candy store took up most of my time as it was. “Then why the theatrics? You practically scared us to death.” I shoved his shoulder.

  “With all the extra work you cause me, I’m entitled to a little fun. What did you find?”

  I pulled the note from the cat’s collar out of my pocket. “Here’s what Trashcan wore around his neck, and here is a note with handwriting that matches.” I raised my eyebrows waiting for him to say, “well done.”

  “Humph.”

  “That’s all you have to say? I’m going to question Renee, somehow, tomorrow night at Mason’s party. I’m sure she’ll be going. They appear to be quite chummy.”

  “April and I are invited, too. But let me do the questioning. You don’t have the authority. I questioned Mason about following you. He said he was just having a little fun because you take your detecting so seriously. Seemed to be telling the truth.” Joe waved the paper at me. “I’m sure this is the same thing. Mason and Renee having a little fun at your expense. I’ll talk to them.”

  I folded my arms and gave my tongue free rein. “I read somewhere that the male—whatever it is that makes a man male, a chromosome or something—is damaged when entering the woman’s uterus. Brain damaged. Basically, that makes you inferior to women, seeing as how we remain undamaged throughout the cycle of conception.”

  Grabbing Aunt Eunice’s arm, I marched away from my wide-eyed cousin and slid behind the wheel of my car.

  “I’d say that gives me plenty of authority,” I muttered.

  “Is that true?” Aunt Eunice clicked her seat belt.

  “I did read it somewhere. I just can’t tell you where. And I’m not positive I got the facts right, but I got my point across.” I squealed tires out of the alley.

  “I can’t wait to inform your uncle Roy the next time he’s acting dense.”

  She’d get her chance pretty quick. Uncle Roy sat in a wicker rocking chair on the front porch, trusty rifle cradled in his arms when we pulled into the driveway.

  I cut the engine. “You didn’t tell him you were leaving, did you?”

  She shoved open her door. “He wouldn’t have let either of us go.” She glanced at her watch. “Especially at one o’clock in the morning.”

  “Did Joe find you?” Uncle Roy kept rocking.

  “You called him?” Aunt Eunice crunched across the gravel and stood in front of the porch. She proceeded to spout off the newest bit of trivia I’d taught her. The more I thought of it, the more convinced I became that maybe I’d heard the information from a comedian. I shrugged and continued to watch the drama before me.

  “Are you sassing me, Eunice? Of course I called him. You were missing.”

  Uh-oh. I squeezed past what promised to be a full-scale marital war.

  “Summer.” Horror. Ethan marched from the kitchen with two cans of soda clutched in his hands. “Where have you been?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After a short lecture last night about disappearing without telling Ethan or Uncle Roy where I’d gone, we’d discussed our disguises for the party. He’d forgiven me, some, when he realized I hadn’t gone alone. He wasn’t thrilled, but not angry either.

  Ethan and I had gone to a used-clothing store and bought an old dress for me and a suit for him. I pulled a comb through my hair and tugged on a short gray wig, struggling to get my curls to stay under the tight headpiece. I smoothed the skirt of my costume. The polka-dot dress hung on me like a flour sack. It’s a wonder I was leaving the house dressed like this. I stuck my arms through a yellow sweater and rushed downstairs to join Ethan.

  He laughed. “This is what you’ll look like as an old lady? I might have to rethink getting married.” He’d powdered his hair. The suit he wore had obviously been made for a man larger around the middle than my buff country boy. The pants bunched beneath a tightly cinched belt, giving Ethan the illusion of a paunch.

  I poked his stomach with my finger. “Don’t laugh, mister. All you need to complete your outfit is a cane.”

  Ethan pulled an aluminum cane from around the hall corner and twirled it. His eyes twinkled with humor. “Anything else?”

  “I think that’s it.” I grinned and linked my arm in his.

  Mason’s renovated plantation home glowed like a tiered birthday cake. Couples strolled across manicured lawns in costumes portraying all walks of life. I couldn’t help but wonder how the man thought he could throw a murder-mystery party with this many people. There had to be around fifteen couples. How could anyone keep anything straight?

  We declined the glass of wine offered at the door and let a young woman dressed as a maid usher us into a large living room. Mason stood near a massive brick fireplace, depicting a man of leisure in khaki pants and navy blazer.

  “Welcome to my party. I’m playing myself, Mason White.” He lifted his goblet in a toast. “Tonight’s mystery has been specially engineered just for me and my guests. Enjoy, mingle, and search for clues. Hidden around my home are many weapons, slips of paper, and other paraphernalia pertaining to crime. The victim is the pretty young thing who answered the door. Her body now lies on the chaise lounge in the study. Others of you may end up disappearing or finding yourselves murdered. You’ll know if it happens, so keep your wits about you.

  “Dinner is buffet style in the dining room. Have fun! And may the best sleuth remain standing.”

  A bit odd, but I couldn’t help the surge of adrenaline coursin
g through me at the thought of an innocent night of fun doing what I enjoyed—snooping. I gripped Ethan’s hand. “Let’s take a look at the body. That’s the best starting point.”

  He laughed. “A bit macabre, but okay.”

  The “victim” flopped back, closed her eyes, and threw an arm across her face, leaving the other one to dangle from the chaise when we strode into the room. An empty wineglass lay on the floor. Red liquid stained the carpet.

  “Poison.” I nudged the goblet with my foot. “Now, we need a motive and a suspect. Which means”—I wiggled my eyebrows at Ethan—“we get to snoop around Mason’s house.”

  “Only pertaining to the game, Summer. And what makes you so sure it’s poison?”

  “Elementary, my dear Watson. There’s no blood, no ligature markings around the neck, no bump on the head. This will be so much fun.” Hooking my arm through his, I led Ethan from the room. “Where do you want to start?”

  “The dining room? I’m starved. Maybe we can eavesdrop while loading our plates.”

  It didn’t take much of our mingling to discover the other guests all had scripts and played their characters to the hilt. Had Ethan and I been a last-minute addition to the guest list? I speared Mason with my gaze. He grinned his shark smile from across the room and saluted me.

  “Ethan?”

  “Yeah?” He popped a stuffed mushroom into his mouth.

  “Did Mason mention why he didn’t give us scripts? Backgrounds for our characters? Alibis?”

  Ethan wiped his mouth with a monogrammed napkin. “Said he invited us at the last minute. He also said it gave us an advantage. Meaning, we’re definitely not the murderer. We get to fly by the seat of our pants, making up our alibis and stories as we go. It’s a bit suspicious, but I thought we’d play along with his little game. And I don’t mean the murder-mystery. I’ll admit it. Something isn’t right with our host. But hear me—you aren’t going anywhere unless I’m right beside you.”