Pink Hot Chocolate & Murder

by Susan Gillard

  “But there might be others there too,” Vincent said, nervously.

  “Like who?” asked Eva.

  "Yeah," Amy said, practicing her tough-guy look again.

  “No one,” Vincent said. “If you really want to go to the dance we can.”

  “Then it’s all settled,” Jamie said. “Maybe one of you would like to try this app to see what outfit it would recommend for you? I’m trying to be more tech savvy.”

  They all declined. Luckily, Heather had an ironclad excuse.

  “I really don’t have time to try the app. I need to throw on what I already had picked out and get over to Donut Delights. We need to start bringing the donuts over!”

  Party Prep

  “That ugly outfit app isn’t the only part of it,” Amy complained. "He's been getting all sorts of weird gadgets for his business and our apartment. Even a talking blender!"

  “If it gives good recipes for smoothies, it might not be a bad thing,” suggested Heather.

  “No,” Amy sighed. “It just tells calories.”

  The two women approached Donut Delights. They were dressed in red dresses that would be easy to move in. They would be able to throw an apron over it when they worked at their tasting table and then dance to Valentine's Day songs.

  They saw their shop neighbor, Mr. Rankle, from Sun and Fun Novelties wheeling himself towards his own store door. He had injured his leg while doing some snooping in the neighborhood and was going to be in the wheelchair for a few weeks.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Rankle,” Heather said, waving.

  “What’s good about it?” he asked.

  “We’re going to have to stop greeting him like that if we want a different response,” said Amy.

  “It’s quite an ordeal to wheel myself around like this, but I need to check on the young man who is running my shop until I can return to active duty,” Mr. Rankle said. “If he’s doing anything wrong inside, I want you to know that I partly blame you.”

  With that, he wheeled himself inside his shop.

  “Do you think it would do any good to remind him that we weren’t playing any pranks on him like he thought?” Amy asked.

  “No,” Heather said simply.

  They entered Donut Delights and greeted the staff.

  “How’s it going?” Digby asked.

  “Mr. Rankle is his usual irritated self,” Heather said. “But otherwise, everything is good. Are we all set with the Pink Hot Chocolate Donuts?”

  “Mr. Rankle – I hate that guy,” Digby said. “But, yeah, we’re on track with the donuts.”

  “Excellent,” said Heather. “Amy and I are ready to bring them over to the hall.”

  Digby helped Heather and Amy begin loading their car with the boxes of donuts. They were careful to park in the shade because even though they wanted the donuts to be hot, they didn’t want them to melt.

  As they were packing up, Heather and Amy found one cause for distraction. Detective Peters, Heather’s husband’s partner on the force, entered the shop to talk to another one of Heather’s assistants. Janae was working the counter and smiled when she saw Peters.

  "Hello, Janae," he said, more decisively than usual. "I was wondering if you had a date for the chocolate tasting dance tonight."

  “Oh,” Janae said, her smile falling. “I’m afraid I’m not going to the dance. I have a family obligation tonight. I’m headed to see my parents after the shop closes.”

  “I see,” Peters said.

  “I’ll be back Monday,” Janae said. She waited to see if Peters would suggest another potential date.

  However, instead, Peters said, “No worries. I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t be home alone and sad. As a police officer, I like to make sure that everyone is accounted for. I’ll see you around. Goodbye.”

  He tried to leave so quickly that he bumped into Heather.

  "I'm sorry, Heather. I was just asking about the dance. I assume you'll be there, right? Of course, you'll be there. You're serving donuts. I don't know if I'll go. Probably not. Okay. Well, I should go. Bye."

  “I think that conversation was a little one-sided,” Amy commented.

  Heather shrugged. She was about to suggest they take the last few donuts to the car when Nina walked up to Digby.

  “I thought you and Janae might have been going to the dance together,” Nina said. “I know you spent Valentine’s Day together.”

  “That was just as friends,” Digby said. “And in the hopes that one of the guys who like her might actually make a move. That didn’t seem to work out quite right though.”

  “Would you like to go to the dance with me?” asked Nina.

  “Sure,” Digby said. “But it would be as friends too. I’m afraid that no one came tame me. I’m a wild stallion that can’t be roped in. And more importantly, the theater is my life now. That takes the place of my true love.”

  "Friends is fine," Nina said before he could come up with any more examples. "I meant as friends. There actually is someone else that I like, but there's no way I could work up the courage to ask him. I barely worked it up to ask someone as a friend."

  “But I suppose you’re hoping that dancing with me will make him feel jealous,” Digby said. “I love it. It’s a perfect acting challenge.”

  “Come on,” Heather said. “Let’s head to the Valentine’s event before we hear about any more love triangles.”

  Heather and Amy arrived to set up the event and were happily greeted by the beautiful Teresa Hart.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her heart-shaped diamonds sparkling in the light. “We’re never had donuts as a part of this event before, but they sound simply wonderful. I can’t wait to taste them tonight.”

  She showed them the set up for the hall’s festivities that night. A large room was separated into a dance floor and tasting area, but there was a difference in flooring. Half of it was covered in the hardwood floors of a ballroom, and the other in tiles. Teresa Hart showed them which table was theirs.

  “And over here is the prep room,” their host said. “There are long tables where you can keep your extra donuts and supplies. It’s connected to a kitchen. And don’t worry. The guests won’t be able to come in and bother you. The door has a passcode that needs to be entered in order to get into the prep room. We change it for different events. The code this time is the Valentine's Day date, so it's 0214."

  “That’s easy to remember,” Amy said.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Teresa Hart said. “It’s going to be a wonderful event.”

  “We’re excited to be a part of it,” said Heather.

  They began setting up their Pink Hot Chocolate Donut display on their table. They were pleased with the results of their décor. They were waiting for the assistants to join them and were watching some of the other chocolate-makers set their own tables up when they encountered rudeness.

  “What is this?”

  Heather and Amy turned to look at the incredulous speaker approaching their table.

  "I have the most exciting chocolate the world has ever seen, and my table is next to this?" he said, practically spitting at them. "Next to something pink!"

  Set Up

  The man who insulted them continued to glare at their table. He was very tall, thin man with a long, pointed nose and a look of perpetual pompousness on his face.

  For a moment, Heather and Amy were too stunned to speak. Then, Amy who had always been a bit of a spitfire responded with “What are you going on about, buddy?”

  “Buddy? I am no buddy of yours!” he snapped. “And even if we were friends, I would not want to be set up next to this display. The indignity of it all.”

  Heather thought that, perhaps, he was concerned that their desserts were not actually chocolate-flavored in the same way that Luz had been. “Let me assure you even though they are pink, our donuts are chocolate and don’t contradict the theme of the event. They’re a combination of white chocolate and chocolate w
hipped cream.”

  “They are donuts and are pink. Could they be any more low-brow? How can the Harts expect me to serve my luxury chocolates next to this?”

  Heather felt her cheeks flushing with color as she became angry. She hated when people were rude and especially when they insulted her donuts. She took a deep breath.

  “I’m sure we can all find a way to coexist,” she said, evenly.

  "At my table, I serve luxury chocolates from around the globe. I also have a rich specimen tonight that is actually infused with gold! How can I be expected to sit next to snacks sold at rest stops on the highway?"

  "We serve gourmet donuts that are wildly popular in Texas and Florida and have had special orders all around country. This Pink Hot Chocolate Donut is a tasty example of our quality,” said Heather.

  “And are you really going to have people eat gold?” Amy asked. “That sounds like a waste to me.”

  “Eating too much gold could be poisonous,” Heather mused.

  “How dare you,” he said.

  “I know you think you’re a big deal,” Amy said. “But we still have no idea who you are, other than you’re a rude guy wasting gold at a table.”

  "I am Jacques O'Lot," he said as if that explained everything.

  However, his prideful announcement backfired. Instead of staying angry, Amy broke into laughter. Heather couldn’t help chuckling either as her bestie struggled to stay standing as she laughed so hard.

  “Is that your real name?” Amy asked.

  Rather than answer, Jacques threw his arms up in the air and stormed off in search of Teresa Hart.

  “And I thought Mr. Rankle was rude,” Amy commented.

  "To be honest, I wouldn't mind moving to a different table, so we're not next to him," Heather said. "But I don't like admitting that to him on principle."

  "And what sort of name is Jacques O'Lot?" Amy asked. "Rhymes with chocolate? It has to be a fake name."

  Heather watched the angry chocolatier storm across the room. The other bakers were watching him too.

  “Somehow, I don’t think we’re the only ones who had a problem with him,” Heather said.

  The large man with a beard at the chocolate mousse table was giving Jacques a dirty look. He was squeezing a spoon so forcefully that it bent in half. The young woman at the cookie table was shaking her head at the interaction and setting her boxes down a little too roughly. The tiny woman at the mini cupcake table was so focused on her task of setting up that it was clear that she was trying to not to react to the argument that just occurred.

  “Don’t mind him,” a voice piped up.

  “Yes. He’s not worth minding.”

  Heather turned and saw the bakers at the table on the other side of Jacques's display. They were setting up a display of fudge.

  “I’m Gerri.”

  “And I’m Jenny.”

  “We’ve been serving fudge at this event for years.”

  “And he’s always like that.”

  Heather thanked them for their words of comfort. As they praised her for bringing donuts to the tasting and adding something new to the proceedings, she began to feel more confident about how the event would go. It was nice to know that not everyone held Jacques O'Lot's views on their desserts.

  Gerri and Jenny were an interesting pair because even though they had different features, they still looked remarkably similar. One had dark hair and the other light. One was several inches taller than the other. However, the way they held themselves and the way they talked made it seem as if they were twins.

  “Jacques thinks that he’s the most important man on the island when it comes to chocolate,” Gerri said.

  “But, honestly, as long as something tastes good most of the public doesn’t care how fancy it is,” agreed Jenny.

  “Though that chocolate with gold in it does sound interesting,” Gerri continued.

  “I wonder how much money it’s worth,” Jenny though aloud.

  Amy also had a question. "Jacques O'Lot isn't his real name, right?"

  “It is now,” said Gerri.

  “But we’re pretty sure he had it legally changed to that,” said Jenny.

  “The rumor is that his name used to be Eggbert.”

  “Well, Eggbert better learn some manners,” Amy said. “Or he’s going to get himself into trouble one of these days.”

  Heather nodded. As she looked around at the angry faces on the other bakers in the room, she thought it might just be possible that he would get himself into trouble this day.

  Dancing and a Dead Body

  “May I have this dance?” Ryan asked.

  “Of course,” Heather said, smiling.

  She took her apron off and left her donut table to follow Ryan onto the dance floor. He looked especially handsome in his suit, though she did always love seeing him in his detective clothes too. He held her close, and they swayed to the music.

  "This is fun event," Ryan said. "Though knowing there was chocolate, dancing, and the woman I love here – I'm not sure how it could have gone wrong."

  “Just as long as we don’t get called to a murder case, it’ll be perfect,” Heather agreed.

  "Do you think if I reached down to knock on wood on the hardwood floor for luck, I could play it off as a dance move?" Ryan joked.

  Heather laughed. “This event had a rough start, but I’m enjoying it now.”

  "I'm sorry I wasn't here when that hoity-toity chocolate guy was giving you trouble. Maybe I could have scared him off with my badge."

  “It’s all right,” Heather said. “It seems like the Harts convinced him that his table’s location was fine. Even if it is next to donuts.”

  “Your donuts seem to be flying off the table,” Ryan said.

  “I’ll have to get some more from the prep room soon,” Heather said. “But after we dance for a bit. It’s my turn to enjoy the party too.”

  Luz and her husband helper were taking a turn watching the donut table. After dancing around the floor, they were ready to sit down for a little while and to bite into some more Pink Hot Chocolate Donuts.

  Heather and Ryan continued to tap their toes and saw their friends on the dance floor. Amy and Jamie were spinning and dipping. They could see that Digby and Nina were dancing together too. Nina seemed to be casting her eyes at a young man that Heather thought she recognized as the one who was taking care of Mr. Rankle's shop until he was back on his feet.

  Then, Heather saw Eva and Vincent. Her smile fell from her face. Vincent was acting peculiar. He was scrunching down so that he was not at his proper height. It looked as if he were trying to hide behind Eva. But what could he be hiding from?

  Leila hurried up to Heather.

  “I’m not going to say may I cut in, but I do have to tell you something.”

  “Sure,” Heather said, and they followed her off the dance floor so they could hear her better. “Is this about Vincent?”

  “No,” Leila said. “He is acting odd. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting to see somebody he doesn’t want to see. But I was actually looking for you because Luz said that she needs your help.”

  Heather thanked her and hurried off to her tasting table.

  “I’m sorry to disrupt you,” Luz said. “But we’re nearly out of donuts. I would have left my husband to watch the table and gotten them myself, but I don’t know the combination for prep room door.”

  “That’s no problem. I’m happy to get them,” Heather assured her. “Are you having a good time?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Luz. “The dancing was just like we remembered. And the chocolates are wonderful. I like the big chocolate fountain display in the center. And visiting the tables is fun. I liked the mini cupcakes and the mousse.”

  "Jacques O'Lot hasn't been giving you any trouble, has he?" asked Heather.

  “No,” said Luz. “Though, actually, I haven’t seen him recently.”

  Heather glanced over at his table. There were still samples of the gold-inf
used chocolate set up on display, but there was no snooty connoisseur voicing why they were the superior chocolates of the night.

  She asked Ryan if he would like to help her bring the donuts back to her table and he gallantly agreed. They headed over to the prep room, and Heather pressed 0214 in the buttons.

  They walked in and began to pick up the boxes. Then Heather gasped. It took all her willpower to set the donut boxes back on the table and not drop them in shock.

  She had discovered why Jacques O'Lot was not at his testing table. He was lying dead on the floor.

  Ryan set his donut boxes on the table too. “We better not touch anything else.”

  Heather nodded. “This has just become a crime scene.”

  The Crime Scene

  “I really wasn’t expecting to come to this dance tonight,” Detective Peters said. “I thought it was bad luck that the person I wanted to dance with wasn’t going to be here. But a murder happening? That’s terrible bad luck.”

  "I bet Jacques O'Lot or Eggbert feels the same," Amy muttered.

  Heather and Amy were standing inside the doorway to the prep room that had been roped off with crime scene tape. The medical examiner had just removed the body from the scene, and Heather was eager to find out anything she could about the crime. There was a good chance that the murderer was still in the building.

  The partygoers were being kept in the building by some uniformed police, but they were not yet told what had happened near the kitchen.

  “Was the medical examiner able to come up with an approximate time of death?” Heather asked.

  “It was recent,” Ryan said. “Within the last hour.”

  Amy shuddered. "I don't like that. I don't like to think that I was twirling around the dance floor while somebody was getting killed, even an arrogant guy like Jacques O'Lot. We were in the same building. I wish we could have done something."

  "I feel the same," said Heather. "But the only one whose fault this is – is the killer. The best thing for us to do now is to find out who did it."