All You Need Is Fudge

by Nancy CoCo

  A young woman glanced up from her phone. “They’re not letting anyone in the building yet.”

  “Why?” Jenn asked as I tried the door. The young woman was right. The white doors were locked. It was unusual. Usually you could go right in.

  “They said they were scheduling a press conference and until then, only authorized people can go inside.”

  “Are you press?” Jenn asked.

  The girl’s blue eyes twinkled. “I’m Kaitlyn Jean. I have a blog that sometimes gets picked up by some of the news agencies. Mostly, my stuff makes the Trending Now info on Internet news sites.”

  “Huh,” I heard Jenn say as I peered into the windows to see if I could see Trent. “Why are you on Mackinac?”

  “I was doing a piece on the race. This is even more interesting, though,” Kaitlyn said. “I’ve never covered a murder before. This one is just like the TV shows. Two young beautiful wealthy women competing their entire lives until one is found dead. The other is arrested and two lives are lost forever.”

  “Do you know why they arrested Paige Jessop?” Jenn asked.

  I saw Officer Brown walk by and waved frantically. He glanced my way and then kept going as if not seeing me.

  “No,” Kaitlyn said to Jenn. “Not officially, but I did a little checking. It seems both women went to the same schools, even the same college. One beat the other out of homecoming queen, then the other beat the one at lilac festival queen. They were both runners up for college homecoming queen. I’ve been told they even had a boyfriend or two in common. That kind of competition is a setup for murder if there was one.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” I searched the windows to see if I could catch someone else’s eyes. “People don’t murder someone over a homecoming queen position.”

  “Please, people have been murdered for much less,” Kaitlyn said. “I read that a woman was mowed down by a car for two packs of cigarettes. Then there’s road rage where strangers shoot each other over being cut off in traffic. It’s a mad world.”

  “I’ll say,” I said under my breath. It seemed to me that Kaitlyn and the rest of the young faces of the so-called press were a little too eager to convict someone based on a warrant. “Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  “In the court of public opinion all that matters is that the police arrested you,” Kaitlyn said and returned to her phone. “Ask anyone.”

  I looked at Jenn and she looked at me. That didn’t bode well for Paige.

  Chapter 8

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” Rex Manning said at the top of the stairs, “thank you for your patience.”

  It had been an hour since Jenn and I had arrived. The throng outside the police station had doubled in size as people heard about the news. Trent had yet to return any of my thirteen calls. I had taken to texting, but he wasn’t answering that either. It was frustrating to not be able to help him.

  “At this time we are announcing that we have a suspect in custody for the murder of Carin Moore. Exact details will be laid out in court should a not guilty plea be entered.”

  “What? Of course, she’s not guilty. Rex, what is going on?” My voice was drowned out by the questions being shouted by the bloggers and part-time press that circled him. The locals stood on the outside of the ring with their arms crossed, listening carefully but saying nothing.

  “That’s all I can tell you at this time,” he said. “We’ll keep you posted as the judicial process progresses.”

  “Is it true you found a murder weapon?” someone called out.

  I noticed a muscle in Rex’s jaw twitched.

  “I’ve got nothing further at this time.” He turned and walked back into the building, the door closing behind him.

  “Well, that was useless,” Kaitlyn said with a sigh. “Just when I thought I had something juicy for my editor.”

  “I’m headed over to the Jessops’ house,” one of the young men told Kaitlyn. “I bet the family has plenty to say about this.”

  “Oh, good idea. I’ll come with you,” she said.

  The crowd seemed to melt away as the small clutch of press headed toward the Jessops’ in search of more interesting information. I sighed and leaned against the white clapboard of the building. I dialed Trent one more time as I watched Jenn work the locals, trying to find out something, anything, about what was really going on.

  “Hey, Allie,” Trent answered. “I can’t talk right now.”

  “Trent, wait,” I said before he could hang up on me. “Where are you? What can I do?”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing for you to do. Go make fudge. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up on me.

  I stared at the phone, feeling hurt and frustrated. I dialed him again, but it went straight to voice mail. Pushing off the building, I looked through the windows one more time, but there was no one to flag. “Darn it!” I was completely shut out of the situation. “Come on, Jenn. I’m going to the Crier to talk to Angus.”

  Jenn turned from talking to Patricia Evans. “Sure. Talk to you later, Pat.” She caught up to me as I strode down the street to the newspaper office. “What do you think Angus will tell you?”

  “I don’t know, but Trent is shutting me out and I have to do something.”

  “He’s shutting you out? How?”

  I lifted my phone. “After thirteen messages, he finally picked up only to tell me he can’t talk. Then when I asked where he was and what I could do to help, he told me to go back to fudge making.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Right?” I frowned. “I want to help. I should help. I’m not wrong, am I?”

  “Oh, no,” Jenn reassured me as we walked up to the Crier. “You two have been dating for nearly three months. He should expect that, at the very least, you would want to be by his side.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I pushed open the door.

  Angus sat behind the front counter. He was a big man with bushy white brows and brown eyes. He wore a plaid short-sleeve shirt over a dark T-shirt. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he said in his deep voice.

  “Angus, what is going on with Paige Jessop? Do you know?” I asked as I stormed the counter.

  “Did you read the website?” he asked me.

  “Of course she did,” Jenn said beside me. “It didn’t say anything, really.”

  “It said everything we know,” Liz said as she came in from the back room. “What do you know?”

  “I don’t know anything,” I said as frustration slipped into my tone. I ran my hand through my hair. “Trent isn’t talking to me and neither is Rex.”

  “The Jessops are all hunkered down, waiting for their high-powered attorney to fly in from Chicago,” Liz said. “I talked to Sophie. They’ve chartered the Grand Hotel’s plane to bring him onto the island. She left an hour ago to go get him.”

  “Well, that’s something,” I said and crossed my arms.

  “I sort of figured you’d be with the Jessops right now,” Liz said, “or I would have called you.”

  “They’re shutting her out,” Jenn said.

  “Seriously?” Liz looked at me with concern in her hazel gaze. She was a tall, pretty woman our age. She had dark curly hair that was currently brushed back into a no nonsense ponytail. She wore a light blue camp shirt and a pair of jeans.

  “Yes,” I said with disgust. “Trent told me to go make fudge.”

  “Ouch,” Liz said.

  “They’re circling the wagons,” Angus said. “I don’t think it’s personal.”

  “But I thought I was part of his family,” I said. “At this point, I should be there with him.”

  “You found the body,” Angus said. “Their attorney might have told them to keep you out of things.”

  “I don’t like it,” I said with a pout.

  “Of course you don’t.” Jenn patted my back. “But attorneys think of things we don’t.”

  “But clearly Paige is innocent,” I pointed out. “There is no rea
son for her to have killed Carin—no motive and no evidence.”

  “There’s enough for them to get a warrant and arrest her,” Angus said. He raised one of his bushy brows. “Or it wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Why weren’t you at the press conference?” I asked Liz.

  “I have insider info. I knew Rex wasn’t going to say anything that I haven’t already published.”

  I frowned. “Really? What else do you know?”

  “I can’t say,” she said, her face suddenly serious.

  “What do you mean you can’t say?” Jenn pushed her. “This is important to us. Spill!”

  “I can’t say,” Liz said again and looked me square in the eyes. “Or I’ll lose my exclusive.”

  “You dug up something, didn’t you?” I asked, wanting to pull my hair out. “What?”

  “She can’t say”—Angus crossed his arms, looking downright chipper—“but if you are nice to me, I might be able to point you in the right direction.”

  “Oh for goodness sakes.” I wanted to leap over the counter and shake him, but I restrained myself. These were my friends, after all.

  “Spill!” Jenn was the one to step in and push him.

  “There may have been a witness to an incident the evening Carin was killed,” he said obliquely.

  “Someone saw Carin and Paige fighting?” I jumped to a conclusion I hoped was wrong.

  “Maybe,” Angus said.

  Liz had hitched her hip on the edge of the desk behind the counter, picked up a pen, and started doodling.

  “Maybe,” I said with a sigh. My thoughts tumbled. “So there has to be a strong motive and there has to be evidence for them to arrest Paige. That means that this witness most likely has provided something the police think is strong motive.”

  “Who’s the witness?” Jenn asked, cutting to the chase.

  “Can’t say,” Angus said.

  “Well, what did they see happen?” I asked.

  “Can’t say.”

  “Fine. Blink once for yes and twice for no,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Did the witness see Paige push Carin into the water?”

  He blinked twice and chuckled.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” I said.

  “Did they see Paige on the pier or the yachts with Carin?” Jenn asked.

  He blinked twice.

  “Well, then what could they have seen that would be a strong motive?” I mused.

  “That’s not a yes or no question,” Angus said.

  “Wait. Liz, you told Angus, but you can’t tell us?” I pointed my finger at her grandfather.

  She stopped doodling and looked up. “He’s the adviser for the paper.”

  “I thought he was the editor,” I said.

  “And adviser and publisher,” Angus said with a smile, his arms still crossed. “I’m also a lawyer so I know a bit about the law. She came to me for advice.”

  “If you’re a lawyer,” I said with a sigh, “you aren’t going to tell us anything. Are you?”

  He blinked once.

  I tossed up my hands. “This is all ridiculous. How can I help if no one will let me?”

  “Maybe you really do need to go make fudge,” Liz said and walked over to me. She handed me a folded piece of paper. “Here’s my order. I hope you deliver.”

  “We don’t deliver,” Jenn said defensively.

  “Maybe you should start,” Liz said. “Listen. It’s been fun talking, but I’ve got to run. There’s news to deliver and Grandpa needs lunch. See ya.”

  “You can’t just dismiss us like this,” Jenn protested.

  The weight of the paper Liz handed me was interesting. I suspected there was more than a fudge order on it. I put my arm through Jenn’s and pulled her toward the door. “Bye, guys. I’ll send Frances over with your order.”

  Once we were outside in the sunlight, Jenn pulled away from me. “What was that all about?”

  I opened up the paper. “This is more than an order for fudge.” I glanced at the top of the paper. It did indeed list three fudges and the desired quantities. But under that was the message I was looking for—deliver the fudge to Eleanor Wadsworth. I glanced up at Jenn. “I think I know who we need to talk to next.”

  Fudgie Cheesecake Brownie

  Ingredients

  ½ cup butter, melted

  1¼ cup sugar

  ⅓ cup cocoa

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  2 eggs

  ½ teaspoon of vanilla

  ½ cup flour

  1 8-ounce package cream cheese

  1 cup powdered sugar

  ½ cup heavy whipping cream

  2 cups dark chocolate chips

  2 tablespoons butter

  Directions

  Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Butter an 8-inch round pan.

  In a medium bowl, stir together the butter, sugar, cocoa, and salt.

  Stir the eggs into the butter, sugar, cocoa mixture. Do not overbeat the eggs.

  Gently add the flour and stir until all lumps are gone. Pour into pan and bake for 20 minutes until center is set.

  Remove and cool.

  In a medium bowl, mix the cream cheese and powdered sugar.

  Pour the heavy whipping cream into a clean cold bowl and whip until stiff peaks form. Fold the whipping cream into the cream cheese mixture and spread over cooled cake. Refrigerate for over an hour.

  In a microwaveable bowl, add the chocolate chips and butter. Microwave on 50 percent power for one minute. Stir until smooth. Pour over the cooled cheesecake-covered brownies and spread. Refrigerate for 2 hours.

  Slice and serve. Enjoy!

  Chapter 9

  Eleanor Wadsworth’s family home was modest compared to most of the Victorian summer cottages on the island. But then again it was occupied year round.

  With a package of three fudges carefully boxed, I knocked on the door. I imagined that Eleanor would have a housekeeper guarding the door and ran a few scenarios through my head about how I was going to get through the housekeeper to Eleanor. I didn’t expect her to answer the door.

  “Yes?” she asked as she opened the door.

  I saw recognition in her eyes. “Hi, Eleanor.” I sent her a sympathetic smile. “I was thinking that everyone was worried about the Moores and the Jessops and no one was thinking about how you just lost your best friend. So I brought you some fudge.” I lifted the package. “May I come in?”

  “Oh,” she said, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Thank you. Yes, please come inside.” She took the fudge from me as I stepped into the foyer of the older home.

  It had that quiet feel of solid wood that you didn’t get in new homes. Perhaps it was the plaster walls or the thicker wood floors. The wide foyer led into a central hallway and narrowed as stairs took up one side.

  She ushered me into a powder blue parlor in the left front. “Please sit. I’ll take this to the kitchen and bring us some tea.”

  “Do you want me to help?” I asked.

  “No, no, it’s fine.” She waved toward the humpbacked couch with needlepoint pillows. “Please make yourself at home. It won’t take me but a minute. I was making tea when you rang the doorbell. All I need to do is add a second cup.” She left the room.

  I looked around. The wallpaper was blue and white striped silk. A delicate brick fireplace had been painted white. Above it was a seascape that looked as if it belonged in a museum. The heavy silk curtains were white on white striped and old-fashioned sheer curtains spanned the big picture window.

  The couch faced two winged-back chairs with toile print in blue and white. A glass-topped coffee table with white wood trim stood on a thick, expensive area rug on top of the plush pale blue, wall-to-wall carpet. The air smelled of fresh flowers from the bouquet in the center of the coffee table. Visible under the glass top were coffee table books of ships and seascapes.

  I took a seat on the couch when I heard her coming down the hall.

  She came in with a tray in her hands and set
it down on the coffee table. “I plated some cookies. I figured you get enough fudge at work.”

  “Thanks,” I said and took the teacup of hot water she handed me. The china cup and saucer were lightweight, expensive porcelain.

  “I have several kinds of tea.” She opened a small wooden box. “Please pick out what you want. There’s also cream and sugar if you need that.”

  “Earl Grey is good for me. Thanks.” I snagged the tea packet and put the cup and saucer on my lap. Opening the pouch, I removed the bag and dipped it in my water. Then I looked her in the eyes. “How are you? Are you okay?”

  She looked away and fussed with her tea. “I’m okay.”

  “I doubt that.” I sat back.

  She glanced at me with surprise in her gaze.

  “You just lost your best friend. You must be devastated. I know if I lost Jenn, I’d be a mess.”

  Her eyes teared up. “You’re right. I am devastated. I simply don’t know what to do with myself. It’s all so unexpected and so terrible. I don’t know how anyone could have hurt Carin, let alone murder her.” She put a sugar cube in her tea and stirred it with a delicate silver spoon.

  I noted that her fingernails were freshly manicured in a subdued French tip. She wore a cream chiffon blouse and black linen slacks. Her toenails were painted a shell pink and she wore black sandals. Eleanor was not a pretty woman, but she was so well groomed that she pulled off a sort of patrician look that made me feel as if I came from a totally different social class.

  “I heard that the police suspect Carin was murdered,” I said and sipped my tea. “When I found her, I thought she had hit her head and fallen into the lake.”

  “It’s much worse than that, I fear,” Eleanor said. “I understand she was bashed in the base of the skull with the side of an oar and then dumped into the marina.”

  “What?” I leaned forward. “How do you know that? I mean, that’s horrible. Are you sure that’s how she died?”