All You Need Is Fudge

by Nancy CoCo

  Sift in powdered sugar, stirring until thick. This may take more or less powdered sugar to get the texture you desire.

  Dump into a wax paper–lined 8-inch baking pan. Pat the top smooth. Using a butter knife, score into 1-inch pieces. Chill until firm.

  Use the edges of the wax paper to take the fudge out of the pan. Remove paper and break into scored pieces. Drizzle with chocolate sauce.

  Enjoy!

  Chapter 28

  The list of political contributors was short and mostly the names I expected—people with the most wealth and power on the island—except one. I frowned at the name and the substantial amount that she had contributed.

  Gail Hall, the coffee shop owner, had contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to the Jamison campaign. She didn’t seem the type to have that much money. I checked my watch. It was eight fifteen. Time for Mr. Devaney to pick up Frances for their romantic carriage tour of the island.

  Jenn sent me pictures of Frances wearing a black sequined top with a floaty chiffon tea length skirt and black pumps. Her hair was tucked into an updo with baby’s breath in it. She looked gorgeous. I also received phone pictures of Mr. Devaney in a black suit, white shirt, and red bow tie. He’d picked Frances up in a white Cinderella carriage and they slowly took the trail around the island that started at Main Street. Later they would return to the back of the McMurphy where he would help her up the flower strewn steps to the roof.

  Everything was set. Mal was freshly bathed and had a red bow attached around her neck. Caramella was also groomed with a red ribbon and little bell around her neck . . . much to her chagrin. I was dressed in a black cocktail dress and three-inch black pumps. In exactly an hour, Jenn and Shane would be here. Trent would come. The four of us would have cocktails in the apartment and wait for Mr. Devaney to signal that she said yes and they were ready for us all to come up and bring champagne.

  I looked at the list and I looked at the time once more. The coffee shop didn’t close until nine PM. I could go get some éclairs and ask Gail about her contribution to the Jamison campaign and still be back by nine.

  Really, I had nothing else to do but wait. I grabbed my clutch purse, gave Mal a treat, and texted Jenn as I left the McMurphy.

  Going for éclairs at the coffee shop. Be back well before nine.

  I stuffed my phone in my clutch purse and headed off as fast as I could in heels. I knew better than to check my phone when I heard it ding that a text had arrived. Jenn would be chiding me. But really, the coffee shop was a half a mile from the McMurphy. I doubted I would be in too much trouble if I stopped by and bought dessert.

  “Allie McMurphy,” Gail said as I entered the empty coffee shop.

  “Hi Gail,” I said with a smile. “I hoped you were still open.”

  “You know we close at nine, but since yacht week is over, there’s little business after seven.”

  “Do you have any of your éclairs left? I thought I’d pick up a dozen for dessert.”

  “Sure.” She pulled out a bakery box and folded it. “Chocolate?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  The shop was quiet. I could hear the splash of the waves against the pier and the distant sound of a foghorn.

  “Do you live above the shop?” I asked to make conversation. After all, I lived above my shop and the coffee shop had two stories.

  “Yes. I like being right on the water.” Gail grabbed a bakery tissue from the box and opened the glass door and started to count éclairs as she put them in the box.

  “You must have a great view,” I said, chattering as I tried to bring up the question I had come to ask. “We have to go on the roof of the McMurphy to see the lake. My apartment has a nice view of the alley and the pool house behind.”

  “Too bad for you,” she said as she put in thirteen éclairs.

  She smiled at me. “A baker’s dozen.” A baker’s dozen was when they added extra for free. She closed up the box and moved to the counter.

  “Thanks.” I said as she closed up the box and moved to the counter. “Listen I was wondering . . .”

  “Yes?” She rang up the éclairs at fifteen dollars.

  “I saw that you contributed quite a bit to the Jamison for congress campaign.” I tilted my head and opened my purse to dig out a ten and a five-dollar bill.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Why? I mean he’s running for congress in Chicago, right?” I handed her the money.

  She took it and opened her register, placed the bills carefully in the bin, and then looked at me. Her brown gaze had turned strangely cold. I took a step back.

  “Carin had promised me if I gave that amount to the Jamison campaign she would ensure that the marina zoning committee renewed my lease for another five years.”

  “Oh.” I sent Gail a small smile. The hair on the back of my neck rose when she didn’t close the register drawer. “I would have donated, too, if I thought it meant I could keep the McMurphy.”

  “The committee turned down my renewal,” Gail said, her gaze growing dark. “They want to tear down the historic shops and put up condos.”

  “Well, they can’t do that.” I picked up my box of eclairs and took a second step toward the door. “The historic committee won’t let them.”

  “That’s what Carin said.” Gail closed her register with a bang. “But she lied. It seems it takes more than my life’s savings to buy the historic committee.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Yes, it is, but not enough to make Carin sorry. I wondered how long it would take for you to figure me out.” She pulled out a gun and aimed it at me. “Drop the eclairs.”

  I swallowed hard. The glint of light on the gun was terrifying. I raised my hands. “I didn’t have you figured out. I . . . wait. You had black paint on your hands the morning I pulled Carin from the water.”

  Her expression was grim. “I stenciled Scoundrel on the oar. But you figured that out, didn’t you?”

  I winced. “I knew that oar was not an original. It didn’t make sense. Let me guess. There are only two on the manifest, but there were three on the boat.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  So I had to ask, “How did you get Paige’s fingerprints on the oar?”

  “That was pure luck,” Gail said. “I put the oar on the deck. Paige must have picked it up and moved it.”

  “And drugging everyone?”

  “I had nothing to do with that. I overheard Harold bragging about the prank he pulled and used it to my advantage. I confronted Carin on the pier that night when I’d overheard the committee talking about building condos where my shop is. She couldn’t have cared less that I gave her my entire life’s savings. She shrugged and said that was a risk I took.”

  “So you grabbed an oar and hit her as she walked away.”

  “I was so angry all I saw was red. The next thing I knew, she was in the water. I thought, good. Let her ruin her dress and have a headache in the morning. That darn dress probably cost what I had given to the campaign.” Gail shook her head.

  “But you’d painted the oar before you brought us coffee the morning I pulled Carin from the marina.”

  “I saw you jump in and got worried. I pulled the oar out of the back room and stenciled it with Scoundrel,” she said. “It was still drying when I brought you coffee.”

  “You hid the oar until the Scoundrel came in and then managed to toss it on the deck without being seen.”

  “No one notices you if they are used to seeing you on the pier. It was a simple matter of rowing over, tossing the oar, and rowing back to the coffee shop.”

  “And they arrested Paige,” I said.

  Gail shrugged. “The Jessops are rich enough that they would be able to see that Paige didn’t go to jail for long. The cops wouldn’t look anywhere else. I was out my life savings, but I had my revenge.”

  “Until I started looking.”

  “Until I heard you were poking around. Then I got nervous.”

  I frown
ed. “You put the bear trap on my doorstep.”

  “I warned you to back off.”

  My hands were in the air, but I took a step back so that I was in the window of the shop. All I could do was hope that someone was out and about and would see me standing there with my arms up. “You could have killed my pets.”

  “I doubt it. Your dog is too smart and a cat . . . well, a cat isn’t going to get caught in a trap.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it,” I said. “It only made Rex suspicious and kept me looking.”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, but Rex is as much a part of the political scene here as the Moores and the Jessops. He wasn’t going to do anything about a bear trap he couldn’t trace.”

  I tried to keep her talking. “You can’t shoot me. People will figure you out. If you let me go, I won’t say anything. I just came for éclairs.”

  Gail smiled. “Don’t be silly. If I let you stick your head out of the door you’ll be screaming bloody murder. No, we’re going to go out the back and down to the water. You’re going to kill yourself and leave a note that you were the one who killed Carin. That you did it because Trent asked you to, but you couldn’t live with yourself.”

  “No one will believe that,” I said.

  Gail shrugged. “Maybe not, but they aren’t going to have any idea it was me.” She waved the gun toward her back door. “Go. Don’t try anything heroic or your body might be lost at sea.”

  “You can’t shoot me here,” I said. “There will be blood evidence.”

  “I have a lot of bleach,” she said. “I’m not too worried about blood. Now go out the back.”

  “No.” I held my ground with my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “If you’re going to shoot me, you are going to have to do it here. In front of your windows. Then you’re going to have to figure out how to clean up the mess.”

  A flash of pure anger rose in her gaze. “I’ll simply burn the place down,” she countered. “Your death will be accidental and I’ll get insurance money.”

  “People won’t believe you.”

  “They will because they’ll want to. They want this property for condos, remember?” She held the gun out straight. “Good-bye, Allie.”

  The door was kicked open with a bang.

  “Freeze! Police!”

  The sound of four guns being cocked filled the air.

  Gail’s eyes narrowed and for a brief moment I thought she might shoot me anyway. Then she raised her hands in surrender.

  “Put the gun on the ground!” Rex ordered.

  Gail slowly put the gun down, not taking her gaze from me. I shook from head to toe with my arms in the air.

  “Get down on the ground,” Rex said.

  I fell to my knees along with Gail. Two policemen grabbed her and pushed her down, cuffing her.

  Officer Brown came toward me. “Are you all right, Allie?”

  I nodded. “Yes. How did you know to come?”

  “Jenn Christensen called Rex,” Charles replied as he helped me to my feet.

  My knees were still a little shaky.

  Jenn burst through the door as Gail was hauled away. “Allie, are you okay? I called Rex the moment I got your text.”

  I tilted my head, confused. “All I texted was that I was going for éclairs.”

  Jenn put her hand on her hips. She looked ridiculously fierce in a black body-conscious dress and spikey heels. “You never go out for éclairs this late. I figured it was code for you knew who the killer was. Why else would you leave us during this big night?”

  I sent her a wry smile and shrugged. “I wanted éclairs?”

  Jenn snorted inelegantly and I laughed.

  “What happened?” Rex asked.

  Shane came in the coffee shop with his crime scene kit in hand. He put down the kit and put on gloves.

  “Um,” I started to say when my knees buckled with relief.

  Officer Brown caught me and pulled out a chair from a nearby table.

  “Thanks.”

  Jenn stood over me. “This could have waited until tomorrow.”

  I winced. “I had a question. I thought it was an easy question.”

  “What was the question?” Rex asked me.

  “I wanted to know why Gail gave twenty-five thousand dollars to James Jamison’s political fund. He’s running for congress in the Chicago district.”

  “And Gail’s answer?” Rex asked.

  “She said that Carin had promised to influence the board against putting condos up where the coffee shop is . . . if Gail donated to Jamison’s campaign.”

  “But the board passed zoning for condos here,” Jenn said.

  “Gail confronted Carin that night when Carin was waiting for her lover on the pier,” I said.

  “Where did she get the oar from the Scoundrel?” Jenn asked.

  I looked at Shane and Rex. “I bet if you check the inventory there were three oars not two on board when you searched. Shane, check the paint on the murder weapon. The morning I pulled Carin from the marina, Gail brought us coffee. She had black paint on her hands. Tonight, she told me she had stenciled Scoundrel on the oar.”

  “What about the drugs found in the alcohol at Paige’s party?”

  “A prank,” I said. “Harold bragged about it after the Scoundrel left the marina that night. Gail overheard him and that’s how she knew Paige wouldn’t have an alibi. It wasn’t premeditated. Stenciling Scoundrel on the oar was an afterthought.”

  “And you’re okay?” Rex asked.

  “Yes.” I raised my hand to stop Shane. “There’s no reason to take this outfit into evidence.”

  Jenn laughed. “Let’s hope not. We have an engagement to celebrate.”

  “Crap,” I muttered and looked at my watch. It was 9:15. “Did we miss it?”

  Jenn checked her phone and chuckled. “Mr. Devaney texted.” She showed us her phone.

  She said yes.

  We all cheered.

  “Wait. There’s another text,” Jenn said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “What?” I asked.

  Jenn read it aloud. “‘Don’t come up.’ it says. ‘C U in the morning.’” She grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Looks like they want their privacy. He’s turned the video cameras off.”

  “Why is Mr. Devaney texting Jenn?” Rex asked. “I didn’t think he even had a cell phone.”

  “He asked us to help him pop the question to Frances,” I said. “Jenn is our point person. We were all supposed to meet them on the roof to celebrate.”

  “It’s why Shane is wearing a suit coat,” Jenn pointed out.

  “I wondered about that,” Rex said. “Plaid suit coat. Not a bad choice for you, Shane.”

  “It’s not plaid,” Shane said and a blush rushed up his neck. “Is it?” He glanced from the sleeve of his jacket to me. “Jenn picked it out.”

  “It’s not plaid.” I frowned at Rex. “It’s got faint lines is all. Brown looks good on you. Goes well with your glasses.”

  “Never fear”—Jenn kissed him on the cheek—“your girlfriend has good taste.”

  “Yes, she does,” Rex said. “You girls can go. This won’t take long for Shane to process.”

  “We’ll save the champagne for tomorrow,” I said.

  “That’s the best idea I’ve heard yet. Come on, girlfriend.” Jenn linked her arm with mine. “Let’s go find Trent and give him the good news.”

  “Thank you,” I said to Rex and Officer Brown. “For coming to my rescue. For a while there, I was afraid I was going to end up in the marina like Carin.”

  “You have too many friends here to ever let that happen,” Jenn said.

  I felt the warm glow of happiness and relief. Deep inside, I knew she was right. No matter what, I had good friends who would ensure I was safe and sound. And now we had Frances’s engagement to celebrate.

  Life couldn’t get much better.

  Acknowledgments

  It takes a village to create a book. I want to acknowledge the
people of Mackinac Island Tourism Bureau, the wonderful booksellers at The Island Bookstore, and all the professionals who have let me reach out and bug them with silly questions about Mackinac Island until I get it right. Any mistakes are purely my own. Special thanks to my editor Michaela and all the copy editors, assistants, production folks, and readers at Kensington Books. Thanks, too, to my agent Paige Wheeler, who keeps me on track and helps me make a living doing what I love. Finally, thanks to the readers who keep buying my books, sharing my stories, and allowing me to be a part of their lives. You all rock.

  Join Allie, Mal, and their friends in the next Candy-Coated Mystery

  Oh, Fudge!

  Coming from Kensington in 2017

  Turn the page for a preview excerpt . . .

  Chapter 1

  The Mackinac Island Butterfly House didn’t open until ten, but I had a message from Blake Gilmore, the current manager, that she needed to see me about a possible tour group staying at the McMurphy. I walked my puppy, Mal, around the back of the Butterfly House looking for an open door. I saw movement in the greenhouse and figured Blake was watering plants or checking the butterflies.

  “Hello? Blake?” I called as I opened the back door and stepped into the tropical humidity of the glass building. Mal tugged on her leash pulling me through the lovely winding, lush trail of the greenhouse that contained the live butterfly collection.

  Suddenly I heard a short scream. My heartbeat sped up and Mal and I ran toward the sound. I stopped short at the sight in front of me. “Tory?”

  Mal tugged at her leash, but I held her back.

  In front of us was my California cousin, Victoria Andrews, kneeling over a woman. Tory held the handle of a gardening spade in her hands. The rest of the spade was stuck firmly in the chest of a woman I didn’t know. The woman’s jeans-clad legs were oddly angled. Her hands spread out, but empty. A pool of blood blossomed from beneath her checkered blouse.