by Nancy CoCo
Officer Lasko turned her neat, perfectly pressed, uniformed body away from me. “No, sir. It appears the blast threw the body up against the wall. We have a serious burn outline and a pile of bone and ash.”
“Now that’s interesting.” Angus licked the end of his stubby pencil and made a few notes in his pad of paper.
“That had to be more than fireworks,” Rex said. “The fireworks were stored in magazines.”
“The magazines were tampered with,” Ed said. “The fire marshal is investigating.”
“So is that arson? Or tampering with a crime scene?” I had worked up a good sweat with all the running and putting out the little coals and such. My hair stuck to my forehead where the sweat had pinned it. Now that we’d been standing for a while, the wind off the lake felt cold. I huddled inside my jacket.
“Could be both,” Officer Lasko said. “The two incidents might not even be related.”
“I say, use the duck test,” Ed said.
“If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck,” we all said in unison and then chuckled.
“Fine,” Officer Lasko said and held up her small elegant hands. “If it’s not a duck, we may have a killer and an arsonist on our hands.”
“Let’s hope not,” Rex said.
“Coffee, anyone?” Frances brought over a tray full of hot coffees.
“Thanks!” I said.
We all dove in and grabbed coffees. I hugged the warm cup to my chest and watched Archie frown as Sherman gulped down the cup as if it were water. Sophie hugged her coffee and sipped it as if it were ambrosia. The look on her face made me smile.
“You should come by the McMurphy,” I said. “We have a coffee bar, open twenty four-seven.”
“I may just take you up on that,” Sophie said.
“Jenn figured you all could use refreshments.” Frances pointed to my best friend in the distance.
Jennifer was five-foot-nine and a curvy size six. You couldn’t hate her for it because she was so darn nice and smart and loyal. Anyway, she had arrived on her bike with a two wheeled trailer in tow which held coolers and various small portables. Jen set up coffee, lemonade, and water dispensers on a small portable table. Her long black hair was safely pulled into a single braid down her back. She wore khaki shorts and a pink polo with the Historic McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop embroidered above the front pocket.
Leave it to Jenn to show up with drinks and sandwiches. The men in the group headed straight for her. I’m going to say it was the food. After all, everyone knew she was dating Shane Carpenter, a local crime scene investigator. I’d like to think I had something to do with that. I was the one who’d introduced them. Of course, it wasn’t exactly a social occasion, but they seemed to make the best of it.
“I’m going to head out, ladies,” Sophie said. “I’m beat.”
“Thanks for saving me, today,” I said. “Seriously, feel free to come by the McMurphy. We have fudge . . . and coffee.”
Sophie laughed. “Fudge is the last thing I need.” She patted her taut abdomen. “But coffee like this is always welcome.”
Frances and I watched her walk toward the runway where the planes were parked until the sound of men laughing caught my attention. I glanced back toward Jenn. She had them eating out of her hand . . . literally. “What kind of sandwiches did she bring?” I asked Frances as the pile disappeared into the hands of tired firefighters.
“Ham with cheddar cheese and turkey with Swiss cheese.” Frances tucked the tray under her arm and sipped her cup of coffee. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, why?” I asked, turning my gaze from the group.
“You’re shivering and it’s seventy-eight degrees out,” she stated.
“Stupid adrenaline.” I frowned.
“Drink your coffee. Then you should head back to the McMurphy before you fall down from exhaustion.”
“Okay, but I’ll need to let Rex know I’m leaving.” I sipped the warm brew. It tasted sharply bitter. I liked coffee for the bitterness. Some people loved it doctored up with flavors and sugar, but I liked mine with cream at the most, just enough to smooth out and give body to the bitterness. “The coffee is great.”
“Jenn made it,” Frances said. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your bike.”
I froze. “My bike! I completely forgot about it. I had parked it next to the warehouse.” I handed Frances my coffee and rushed to where my bike was parked. Thankfully, it was still there. Covered in soot and smoke, it appeared unharmed.
“The cinder blocks saved it.”
I turned to see Liz MacElroy surveying the damaged building. She stood about my height with black hair pulled back into a no nonsense ponytail, and bright blue eyes. She wore khaki cargo shorts, a baby blue tank, and a plaid, short-sleeved shirt over the tank.
“Hi Liz. When did you get here?”
“I got here as soon as I heard the explosion. The sight of sparkling fireworks in the daytime was like sending up a flare. It caught everyone’s attention.” She had a smudge on the side of her cheek that I hadn’t noticed when I first looked at her. “I spent some time with the volunteers stomping out cinders in the woods.”
“Ed Goodfoot said we were lucky it rained all last week. The ground cover isn’t too dry.”
“The best thing about fireworks is they burn fast,” she said as she stepped up to inspect the building’s exterior. “You were here when it blew?”
“Yeah,” I said then paused. “Are you interviewing me for a story?”
She flashed me a grin. “Maybe.”
“She can’t talk to the press,” Rex interrupted.
We both turned to him at the same time. “Why not?” We asked in unison. “Jinx!” we shouted and laughed.
“Because she is my witness.” Rex pulled my bike out from its spot and wiped off the seat. “But I’m not going to question you here and now. The sun is starting to set. Go home, get cleaned up, and get a good supper. I’ll come by tonight and take your statement.”
“Such service.” Liz crossed her arms, her eyes twinkling.
“You’ll get your statement along with the rest of the press tomorrow,” Rex said and handed me the bike. “For now, we’ll say that we’ve got a suspected arson and a probably homicide. Right, Allie?”
“Yes,” I agreed and took my bike from him. The handles were gritty and oily with soot.
“An arson and a murder?” Liz’s expression perked up. “What makes you suspect murder?”
“Well, there was a—”
“No,” Liz held up her hand in a stop sign. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You found another dead body.”
I made a firm line with my mouth.
“Allie,” Rex said softly and shook his head. “Go home.”
“Fine.” I let a shiver run over me. The air was cooling quickly as the sun set. The sound of crickets and night insects were a gentle but welling hum in the distance. “Bye, Liz. I’ll talk to you when I can. Bye, Rex. See you tonight.”
I walked the bike a few steps before I tested my weight on the tires and then hopped on.
“She’s dating Trent Jessop, you know,” I overheard Liz tell Rex.
“I know,” he answered as I biked away.
I liked Rex. We were good friends, but I was falling for Trent. He was in Ann Arbor on business and notably missing from today’s action. It was a story I’d have to tell him when he was on the phone. Or maybe when we were snuggling on the couch. That way, I couldn’t see the look on his face when he found out being a fudge shop owner was more dangerous than it seemed.
Coconut Cream No Bake Fudge
8 ounces cream cheese, softened in microwave for 15 seconds
6 cups powdered sugar, sifted if lumpy
¼ cup melted butter plus 1 teaspoon to prep the pan
¼ teaspoon almond extract
½ teaspoon vanilla
1½ cups coconut flakes
1 cup chopped almonds
Butter 8x8x2-inch cake pan.<
br />
Mix cream cheese, sifted powdered sugar, butter, almond extract, and vanilla extract until smooth and thick. Hint: the amount of powdered sugar will depend on how thick you want the fudge. Start by adding 4 cups and then the last 2 cups in ½ cup increments until the fudge is smooth and thick.
When the base is smooth and thick, add coconut and almonds until combined. Scoop into buttered pan and pat smooth with wooden spoon.
Score 1-inch pieces with butter knife.
Refrigerate for 2-3 hours. Remove from pan and split into pieces. Serve in individual paper candy holders or on platter. Store leftovers away from heat in covered container.
Enjoy!
Chapter 3
I didn’t have to wait long to hear from Trent.
When my phone rang, I was soaking in a tub of bubbles and sloshed around as I reached for it. Technically, I had been banned from answering my phone while in the bathtub for sort of obvious reasons. Okay, I tended to drop my phone, and phones and bathwater don’t exactly mix.
Not surprising, I was still recovering from today’s fright and didn’t think past the fact that my phone was ringing and it could be Rex saying he was downstairs ready to interview me. I held the phone out of the tub, hit ANSWER and SPEAKER and carefully placed it on the stand next to the claw foot tub in my bathroom. “Hello?”
“Allie, are you answering the phone while taking a bath?” Trent’s deep warm voice came out of the phone.
“Maybe . . . how—?”
“I heard sloshing and figured it was either the tub or the lake. I prefer to think about you in the tub.”
“Oh.” I felt the rush of heat from a blush go up my neck. “Hi, Trent. I answered the phone because I thought maybe you were Rex.”
“Okay, I’m going to wait for you to explain that before I get worried. Should I be worried, Allie?”
“No, no.” I grabbed the phone as if bringing it closer to me would bring him closer to me. “Rex is stopping by to question me.”
“And I repeat, should I be worried?”
I laughed. “No, I’m fine. There was an incident this afternoon, but I’m fine. The fireworks on the other hand are not so fine.” I explained what had happened as I sank back into the bubbles and leaned the back of my neck on the curve of the tub. “And so Rex is stopping by to ask some questions. How was your day?”
“Not nearly as eventful as yours,” Trent said. “I’ve picked up a couple new draft horses. I’ve got two animals that I’m retiring this year and I’m looking at breeding some better carriage stock.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“You mean boring.” He laughed.
“I don’t know anything about horses.” I sighed at the disappearing bubbles in my bath. “I was in the kitchen when all the other girls were out learning to ride. I sort of look at horses as big dogs—pretty but tough to clean up after.”
That made him laugh a deep, rich, belly laugh. “I take it you don’t know much about dogs, either.”
“Mal is my first,” I admitted. “My mom and dad weren’t really into pets.”
“You missed out,” he said softly. “Remind me when I get back to take you around to see the stables. We’ll have you riding like a pro in no time.”
“I don’t think you know me that well,” I said in semi-seriousness. “Coordination is not high on my list.”
“That just means you need more practice. I’m looking forward to practicing.”
“Oh.” I was blushing again. Not that anyone could tell. “When do you come back?”
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Can we have dinner?”
“Sure, as long as I’m square with Rex.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Should I wear riding boots?” I teased.
“Dress pretty. There are other things I’d like to do with you than put you on top of a horse.”
I was left speechless after that comment and let my imagination fill in the blanks. “Okay. Pretty it is.”
“Good night, Allie.”
“Good night, Trent.” I hit the END button on my phone and couldn’t stop smiling. The water had grown cold and I leaned over and put the phone back on the stand and stood to grab a towel when the ring startled me. I reached for the phone and it slipped in my hands, barely escaping a drop in the tub. “Hello?” I said as I stepped onto the aqua bath mat and snagged a big white fluffy towel. “Trent?”
“Hi Allie, it’s Rex. I’m on my way over. Are you still up for some questions?”
“Oh, sure. I’m getting out of the bath now, so give me about fifteen minutes and I’ll be downstairs.”
Dead silence on the other end of the phone.
“Rex?”
“Sorry.” His voice sounded strange. “You were in the bathtub or you are in the bathtub?”
“I’m just stepping out. I promise, I’ll be down really quick. Jenn made extra coffee and Frances has some cookies she brought over. Help yourself.”
“Okay.”
“Great. Bye.” I hung up the phone and wrapped my hair in a towel. I slipped on panties and a bra and then comfy yoga pants and a soft green T-shirt.
Jenn and Mal were heading into the apartment as I headed out. “Hi guys.” I held the door open for Mal who decided she was going to wait and see where I was going before she crossed the threshold and got stuck in the apartment.
“Rex is downstairs waiting for you,” Jenn said. “I told him we’d come and get you.”
“Yes, he called to let me know he would be here soon.” I closed the door so that we were all going down the stairs.
The McMurphy was a boxy square building with four floors. The top floor was the owners apartment—mine now—along with the business office which I shared with Jenn who was my acting hospitality manager. I’d met her in college when I was studying hotel management. She was getting a hospitality degree in hopes of running her own event planning company. She’d given up her dream to spend my first season with me on Mackinac Island and had taken to the island like a duck takes to water.
Two floors of guests rooms were under the apartment. They were serviced by staircases on the end of each hall with two elevators that ran in the middle. We took the stairs because they were faster.
“Oh, Mr. Devaney said that the west elevator needs servicing again,” Jenn said as we walked down the second set of stairs that spilled into the wide lobby area. “It’s starting to stick. He had to pry the doors open for the Clemons family in three-o-two.”
“Ugh. Those elevators are costing me a fortune.”
“You can take them out,” Jenn suggested. “But I think that limits your guests. Quite a few have difficulty with the stairs.”
“I suppose I could put in a really long switched back ramp,” I paused and studied the floor space of the lobby from the vantage point of a few stairs up. “No, that’s a really bad idea.”
“I don’t know,” Jenn said eyeing the same piece of real estate. “Let me see about bringing an architect in. There might be something we can do.”
“It has to be wheelchair accessible,” I said. “Papa was firm about being available for persons with disabilities. It was why he made the over-sized bathroom in room two-o-one and insisted on showers for all the bathrooms when we moved from the one bathroom per hallway to all en suite baths. He wanted his older clients to be able to safely walk in and out of the bath.”
“What are you two discussing?” Frances asked from the bottom of the steps. “Officer Manning is waiting, Allie.”
I continued down the stairs as I answered her. “We were talking about whether or not we could remove the elevators.”
“Why? I like them,” Frances said.
The elevators in question were actually small boxes, relics from an earlier time. The doors were ornate grates that allowed a view of the lobby before disappearing up the shaft. Once the car stopped at a floor, it was necessary to open the other side of the elevator to step out onto the floor.
“They are quaint
,” Jenn said, “But in constant need of maintenance. Someday, you will have to put in new ones. There won’t be anyone alive who knows how to fix these.”
“There isn’t much to fix,” Mr. Devaney said. “I’d do the work myself, but you need a certified guy to sign off for the safety inspector.” He was my cantankerous handyman. About six feet tall, he was a retired teacher with a balding head on top and thick hair on the sides cut very close and gray in color. He always dressed, well . . . like a teacher. He wore brown corduroy slacks and a pale blue dress shirt open at the collar, showing a T-shirt underneath. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow exposing brawny forearms. On his feet were comfortable brown leather slip-on shoes.
“I’m going to have an architect come in and see what he has to say about it,” Jenn said from her perch on the stairs behind me.
Unconcerned about the elevators, Mal had rushed down the stairs and jumped up into Rex’s lap as he sat in one of the wingback chairs scattered in the open area between the twin staircases. He had showered and changed into a new uniform.
Come to think of it, he always wore a uniform when he stopped by on police business. It was as if his uniform helped him maintain some distance in his role as an officer and as a neighbor. He lived a ways away, but on an island as small as Mackinac everyone was considered a neighbor.
“Hi Rex. I see Mal has made herself at home,” I walked over to him. “Do you want to come up into my office so we have a quiet place to talk?”
“That would be best.” Rex stood, carefully putting Mal down on the floor.
I noticed then that she had grown quite fluffy. I would need to have a fluffy intervention this week and take her to the groomer. Unfortunately, groomers were as dreaded by Mal as hair salons were by me. I could grow my hair out. Mal, on the other hand, had to be groomed. As a non-shed dog, her hair would grow quite long. The longer it got the fluffier she got. I kept her groomed in a short puppy coat. Show Bichons had four-inch long coats. I couldn’t imagine the daily grooming that went into that. As it was, I had to brush her every day to keep her short coat from matting.
