Death by Chocolate

by G. A. McKevett

  “Damn,” he muttered. “We’re gonna have to string some tape around this house and seal the doors. Now that we know it was a murder, we can’t have people running around disturbing things.”

  “I’ll do it if you want,” Tammy offered.

  Dirk looked surprised, then rummaged in his jeans pocket and pulled out his keys. He tossed them to her. ‘The tape’s in my kit in the trunk. Thanks, kid.”

  “You’re welcome.... Dirko,” she replied. She bounced away, long blond ponytail swinging.

  “Better watch out,” Savannah told him. ‘You two might actually start liking each other if you aren’t careful.”

  “Naw. It’ll never happen.”

  She followed him into the kitchen, where they found Marie unloading the dishwasher.

  “Good afternoon,” the maid said, stopping to dry her hands on a towel. “May I get you something to drink? A cappuccino or...?”

  “No, thank you,” Savannah said. “This is Detective-Sergeant Coulter from the San Carmelita Police Department. Dirk, this is Marie, Eleanor’s housekeeper.”

  Dirk shook Marie’s hand and nodded graciously. “Glad to meet you. But I’m going to have to ask you to leave this house here right away and don’t come back in until we clear it.”

  “But, but I work here,” Marie sputtered. “I don’t understand. We’ll be having Mrs. Maxwell’s memorial service tomorrow and we’re expecting a lot of people. I have to get things ready.”

  “No, you don’t.” Dirk took her by the elbow and gently led her toward the back door. “You have to vacate the! premises—at least the house itself. It’s a crime scene.”

  “What?” Marie’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, a crime?”

  Savannah stepped forward. “Dirk, she doesn’t.... you know.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Dirk let go of her arm and put on his gentler face. “I’m sorry to inform you that after receiving the results of the coroner’s autopsy, we’re investigating Mrs. Maxwell’s death as a possible homicide. So that means—”

  “A homicide?” The maid leaned her hand against the pantry door for support. “Someone killed her?”

  “We don’t know yet for sure,” Savannah said, rushing to her side. “That’s why we have to continue to investigate. And that’s why no one can come into the house until we’re finished.”

  “But... but...” The maid looked around as though seeing her surroundings for the first time. “What will I do?”

  “You live in the servants’ quarters, right?” Savannah asked.

  Marie nodded.

  “And where’s that?” Dirk asked.

  “In the gardener’s cottage behind the garage.” Savannah reached out and placed a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder. “So, why don’t you go back there for now, maybe lie down awhile? I know this must be disturbing news to hear.”

  “It is. Very disturbing,” Marie said, her voice shaking. “Mrs. Maxwell murdered! What a terrible thing.”

  Savannah could feel her trembling. She led her gen-dy to the back door and opened it for her. ‘Try not to worry,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll have this all straightened out soon.”

  Savannah and Dirk watched through the open door as the maid walked away on unsteady legs. “I’ll come by and check on you later,” Savannah called after her. ‘Just try to get some rest.”

  They continued to watch until she disappeared behind the garage. ‘You’re gonna check on her, huh?” Dirk finally said. “Maybe you can squeeze something outta her. Maids know everything that’s going on in the house they work in. She’s probably got some juicy stuff to tell.”

  Savannah gave him a sideways look and a nudge in the ribs. “Squeeze her? Please. The woman’s obviously distraught. I was just going to offer her a shoulder to cry on if she needed it.”

  She closed the door and walked back to the kitchen. “Of course,” she added, “if I get the opportunity to squeeze her a bit while she’s crying, so be it. You know, housekeepers are a fount of information.... not to mention good ol’-fashioned gossip.”

  By the time Tammy joined them in the kitchen, Savannah and Dirk had already collected several boxes of staples from the kitchen cupboards and pantry.

  “We found the recipe for the Death by Chocolate Cake,” Savannah told her, “and we’re taking what’s left of the ingredients, like flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, cocoa, and so on.”

  “That way you can tell which one was contaminated?” Tammy pulled on a pair of gloves before looking through the items in the boxes.

  “That’s right, kiddo,” Dirk told her. “If there’s phenylprophedrine in the cake itself, it probably came from one of those ingredients.”

  “You figure the killer knew what she was going to be baking and put it into one of these?”

  “That’s what I’d do,” Savannah said. “It would be a lot easier than trying to contaminate the actual batter when she was baking it.”

  “That’s the problem with poisoning...” Dirk began to put each item into its own bag and affix the orange evidence labels to seal them. “Unlike a shooting or stabbing, or even a strangling, the killer doesn’t have to be present at that actual moment of death. Conceivably, they could plant the stuff weeks before. Although I don’t think that happened in this case.”

  “Why not?” Tammy asked.

  “Because,” he replied, “according to Kaitlin Dover, the show’s producer, Eleanor didn’t announce what dish she was going to cook until just a day or less before the show.”

  Savannah walked over to the broom closet and pulled out the loaded shotgun that Eleanor had mentioned. “Whoever it was,” she said, “had to know what ingredients she’d be using ahead of time to contaminate one or more of them.”

  “What’s that doing there?” Tammy asked, pointing to the gun.

  “Just your standard, double-barreled, twelve-gauge home protection device,” Savannah replied, cracking the breech and removing the shells. “With a child on the premises—not to mention possibly a killer—we don’t really need to have this thing loaded.”

  She popped the shells into her pocket. Searching a nearby shelf, she found a box full of ammo next to some corn flakes. She removed those, too, and replaced the gun.

  “So, are we about done here?” she asked Dirk.

  He looked around the kitchen, down at the boxes filled with their bags of potential evidence, and nodded. ‘Yeah, I think this should be enough to send the boys and girls at the lab into a tizzy. They hate this much work anytime, let alone on a Friday afternoon, when they’re all looking forward to starting their weekend.”

  “Too bad,” Savannah said. “If I have to work on the weekend, why shouldn’t they?”

  “Were you planning on working this weekend?” Tammy asked as they each took a box and started for the door.

  “Heck yeah,” she replied. “What do you think I’m going to do? Sit around the house with Cordele and rehash old family grievances?”

  Dirk nodded. “I see your point. Investigating a homicide is a lot more fun than that rehashing family crap.”

  “Much more fun,” Savannah agreed. “But then, so is getting a triple root canal... a Pap smear.... a mammogram...”

  They were loading the boxes into the trunk and backseat of Dirk’s Buick when they saw Louise Maxwell walking down the driveway toward them. She was wearing bright red short-shorts and matching cropped tee that showed several inches of bare midriff. She walked with a definite sashay to her hips that south of the Mason-Dixon Line might have branded her as a loose woman.

  “Oh, goody gumdrop,” Savannah said. “Just the person I wanted to see.”

  “Who’s she?” Tammy asked.

  “The daughter, Louise. Otherwise known as the person least likely to grieve Eleanor’s passing and the most likely to benefit from her demise.”

  Dirk perked up. “Oh yeah? Well, I think we should get acquainted.”

  Savannah noted Louise’s purposeful stride and said, “I think that’s a given.”

>   “What the hell are you people doing on my property?” Louise demanded.

  At that moment, three furry mini-missiles flew off the verandah and streaked toward Louise, barking, growling, snarling, and showing their tiny incisors.

  “Oh, shut up, you stupid mutts,” she said, kicking out at them. “You’re all going to the pound; you just wait and see.”

  As though understanding her words, the dogs backed off. One returned to his chair on the verandah, and the others soon followed. Savannah was impressed. Louise had quailed the terrors without garlic chicken livers.

  Dirk was already on his way up the driveway, his badge out, his grimmest and most officious face on. “I’m Detective Coulter, SCPD, I’m investigating your mother’s death. First, I’d like to say I’m sorry for your loss.” ‘Yeah, right.” Louise looked over his shoulder. “What are they doing here?” She pointed an accusing finger at Savannah. ‘You have no business being here anymore. Get off this property. And if she’s with you”—she nodded toward Tammy—“she goes, too.”

  Savannah walked over to Louise and forced herself to smile, at least a little. Your mother hired me to find out who was sending her those threatening letters. She paid me up front. I have to finish the job.”

  “You don’t have to finish anything! She’s dead, and I’m in charge now. You’re out of here.”

  Dirk cleared his throat. “Well, technically, Ms. Maxwell... you aren’t in charge. At least, not yet. If your mother left you this property in her will, you’ll get it once the estate is settled, but for right now, everything’s still pretty much up in the air.”

  Louise glanced over toward the house and noticed the bright yellow crime-scene tape that Tammy had strung around it. “What’s that!”

  Dirk stepped closer to her, his eyes watching every nuance of emotion on her face. “It’s a police barricade,” he said, “to keep anyone from entering the residence for the time being.”

  Savannah, too, was watching Louise carefully. You could read so much into those first moments when someone was informed.

  “Ms. Maxwell, you have to prepare yourself for some hard news,” he said.

  Her face turned pale behind her suntan. “And what news is that?”

  “We have reason to believe,” he continued, “that your mother’s death wasn’t from natural causes.”

  Her mouth opened and closed several times, as if she were gasping for air. “What are you talking about? It was a heart attack. I heard it was a heart attack. She had a bad heart. She was on medicine for it.”

  “I know,” he said. “But we believe that the heart attack was induced.”

  “Induced?”

  “Caused by something.... someone.”

  “Like what? Who?”

  Savannah was watching closely, evaluating. And she had to say that Louise seemed more nervous and scared than upset. Most people were upset when they found out that a relative had been murdered.

  Interesting.

  “That’s what we’re investigating,” Dirk replied. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you much more right now.”

  Savannah decided to take a verbal stab at it. She stepped forward. “But I’m absolutely sure that we’ll find out who did it,” she said evenly. “We almost always do.”

  A flash of fear, then anger, crossed Louise’s face. Then her expression went as blank as a freshly erased chalkboard.

  But Savannah had seen it. And Savannah knew that Louise knew that she had seen it. Savannah looked at Dirk. He had seen it, too.

  “And when we do find out,” Savannah added, just for good measure, “you’ll probably be one of the first to know.”

  Louise seethed for a moment, her fists clenched at her sides. For a few seconds, Savannah thought she might come at her, and she briefly enjoyed the mental image of throwing Ms. Louise Prissy Short-Shorts on her butt with a karate takedown.

  But just as she was getting into the idea, the sound of running footsteps caused them all to turn toward the garage. Sydney was racing toward them, a stricken look on his face. “Is it true?” he asked breathlessly when he reached them. “I was just talking to Marie, and she says that Miss Eleanor was murdered. Was she?”

  “I’m afraid it’s a possibility,” Dirk said. “And you are....?”

  “This is Sydney Linton,” Savannah said, “Mrs. Maxwell’s driver and handyman. Sydney, meet Detective Coulter, SCPD.”

  Dirk extended his hand, but Sydney seemed too distraught to notice the gesture.

  “But how? Who? I mean.... who could do something like that?” Sydney covered his eyes with his hands for a moment and shuddered. “I know Miss Eleanor was a difficult person, but... to kill her? It’s got to be some sort of mistake.”

  “We aren’t really sure of anything yet,” Savannah told him. ‘That’s why Detective Coulter here is conducting an investigation.”

  “But the question is,” Louise interjected, “why are you here? I want you out of here.”

  “We’re not going through that again,” Dirk told her. “I think you’d better turn around and march back to your cottage, find some of your own business, and mind it.”

  Louise turned, but said over her shoulder, “I’m going to call my attorney and tell him—”

  “Ah, you don’t need to do that,” Savannah said. “At least, not until... I mean.... not unless you’re under arrest.”

  Louise shot her a look that could barbecue a rare steak to well-done in a minute, but she left. And not too soon for Savannah.

  Savannah watched her for a moment, and when she returned her attention to those around her, she saw that they were all staring at her: Dirk, Tammy, and even Sydney.

  “What?” she said.

  “You don’t think....” Sydney sputtered, “that Louise would have....?”

  Dirk gave a slight shake of his head, and she knew she needed to cool her dislike for Louise. It wasn’t smart to flash too much of your hand in front of anybody, let alone everybody.

  “We don’t know anything yet,” Dirk replied. “Really. We’re just checking a few things.”

  Sydney seemed to calm down a bit. He raked his fingers through his thick hair, and the thought crossed Savannah’s mind that he wasn’t at all hard on the eyes. Whether in his tuxedo, serving tea, or in his present jeans and denim shirt, he was well-built and had a certain boy-next-door appeal. She wondered if he and Marie had ever been an item. To her understanding, neither was married.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he told Dirk. “I hope nothing like that happened to Miss Eleanor. I hope that her death was from natural causes. But if it wasn’t, I want you to catch whoever did it.”

  He glanced quickly up the hill at Louise’s retreating figure. Savannah took note of the look, and so did Dirk and Tammy. They all three exchanged knowing glances.

  “Is there anyone in particular you can think of who might have wanted to hurt Mrs. Maxwell?” Dirk asked him.

  Again, another sideways look up the hill. “Well, not enough to kill her,” he said. “Like I said, she was a difficult person. You saw that yourself, Savannah.”

  “Yes. I did. By the way, do you recall seeing anyone or anything suspicious around here the last few days? Anything out of the ordinary?”

  He thought for a long moment before answering, “Not that I can think of. But if I do remember anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Thanks,” Dirk said. “We appreciate it.”

  Sydney excused himself, and Savannah, Dirk, and Tammy finished placing the evidence parcels into the back of the Buick.

  “You two wanna follow me over to the lab?” Dirk asked. “I’ll take you out for a burger or something after we get done there.”

  Savannah nearly gasped. “Wow, free food! I never thought I’d hear those words out of—”

  “Oh, shut up.” His lower lip protruded. “That’s what I get for trying to be a gentleman.”

  “Actually, I’m teaching a yoga class in about an hour,” Tammy said, looking at her watch.
“And then I’ve got some paperwork to do at the office. But thanks anyway.”

  Savannah looked over at the garage where Sydney had disappeared. Just beyond the garage she could see the corner of what she figured was probably the gardener’s cottage where Marie lived.

  “Tell ya what, guys,” she told them. ‘You take off if you’re done here, but before I leave, I think I’ll go have a girl-to-girl talk with Marie. See if I can console her.”

  “Console her?” Dirk chuckled. Yeah, right. I know you; you’re gonna squeeze her.”

  Savannah grinned and shrugged. “Squeeze, console.... whatever.”

  Chapter

  11

  Savannah sat in Marie’s cozy apartment, sipping mint tea, eating fresh-out-of-the-oven oatmeal cookies, and feeling a little guilty that she had even considered “squeezing” this gracious lady.

  “I love your place,” she said sincerely as she looked around the apartment with its feminine floral fabrics, delicate lace doilies, fresh flowers in milk-glass vases, * and sepia-toned family portraits in silver- and gold-leafed frames hanging in clusters on the walls.

  Sitting in a rocking chair across from her, Marie was also drinking tea, a large yellow tabby cat curled in her lap. It was the first time Savannah had seen her wearing anything other than her black-and-white housekeeper’s attire. She had changed into a soft pink fleece pullover and a pair of cream slacks. Her eyes were red and swollen, as though she had been crying, but when Savannah had knocked at the cottage door, Marie had warmly welcomed her inside and offered her refreshments. Having skipped lunch, Savannah welcomed the sugar boost.

  “I still can’t comprehend all that’s happened,” Marie was saying as she stroked the sleeping cat. “I couldn’t even believe that Miss Eleanor had died, and now to hear that someone killed her....”

  “We don’t absolutely know that for sure,” Savannah said. ‘Try to shield your heart from that grief until we find out what really happened. There’s no point in suffering over something that may not be true.”