Nutella Crunch & Murder

by Susan Gillard

“We’re sorry to say that he is really dead and has, in fact, been murdered.”

  Tim shook his head. “I shouldn’t have taken off yesterday. Maybe I could have done something to help him.”

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Peters said.

  “Unless you killed him,” Amy said. “Then, you can blame yourself as much as you want.”

  “What?” Tim said, sounding scared. “I didn’t kill my boss. How could you think that? I would never do that.”

  “Please, remain calm,” Ryan said.

  Tim took a deep breath.

  “Why don’t we all sit down?” Heather suggested. “Then, we can ask some questions about your employer. Maybe then, we can figure out who did kill him.”

  Tim nodded and followed the investigators towards the interrogation room. Heather knew she had made it sound as if sitting down would be more relaxing, and that was not the case in the interrogation room. However, she thought this setting was useful for two reasons. One was that it might impress upon Tim the seriousness of the matter and encourage him to be more forthcoming with information. The other reason was that there actually were enough seats for them all to sit down.

  Heather and Amy joined the two detectives on one side of the table, and Tim Morris sat on the other side. He looked even younger than he was, which couldn’t have been more than nineteen, when his nerves took over.

  “Is everything all right?” Ryan asked, kindly.

  “No,” Tim said. “Not really. Mr. Mapleson is dead. That means there’s a murderer on the loose. What if he comes after me too?”

  “Is there any reason why he should do that?” Heather asked. “Were you involved with any dangerous business?”

  “No,” Tim said. “What I meant was that this is senseless. So maybe someone just wanted to kill carpenters or something like that.”

  “Based on the manner of death, we think that this is someone who had a grudge against Mr. Mapleson,” said Detective Peters. “He was hit multiple times.”

  Tim cringed. “That’s terrible.”

  “You said that you weren’t there the morning of the murder?” Ryan asked.

  “I wasn’t there at all that day,” Tim said. “The store is normally open from eleven to four, but we build pieces for the shop and fill custom orders before and after that. Customers can pick things up at certain times if it’s planned ahead. I think Mr. Mapleson was planning on being at the shop pretty early because he was going to give someone their order.”

  “I guess that was an order that a customer made for a web instead of on the web,” Amy joked.

  “Huh?” Tim asked, and he wasn’t the only person in the room who was confused.

  “Okay. I guess that wasn’t the best joke,” Amy said. “Because I don’t know if tarantulas really do make webs. I’m not up on the differences between spiders. And, actually, I’m perfectly fine with that. But the order was for tarantula toys, right?”

  “Yeah,” Tim said. “I remember it because it was an unusual order.”

  “And Rudolph Rodney was going to pick it up?” Heather pressed.

  “I think so,” Tim said. “That sounds right. Do you think he was involved in the murder?”

  “No,” Heather said definitively. “I believe he is a victim in all this too.”

  Tim sighed. “If only I went to work yesterday. Maybe I could have helped Mr. Mapleson and the customer too. I asked for the day off because I was really sore from moving some heavy furniture pieces. I wanted to recoup on the beach. But I didn’t know that he would be in danger. I wouldn’t have left him alone if I knew that.”

  “Do you have any idea who could have done this?” Heather asked.

  “It might have been Marvin Randall,” Tim said. “He’s our main competitor. He called and yelled at Mr. Mapleson one day. He accused us of stealing customers.”

  Peters made a note of this in his book. “We’ll look into this.”

  “Was there anyone else who had an issue with Mr. Mapleson?” asked Ryan. “Maybe an angry customer?”

  “Well, we did have one customer who didn’t like the table we made for him. He was freaking out about it. His name was Brian Drake,” said Tim. “He’s the only one I can think of now. Mr. Mapleson made quality furniture, and he was teaching me to do the same.”

  “Did you have any idea where one of these people could have taken Rudolph Rodney?” Heather asked.

  “No,” he said, looking down. “I’m sorry. I wish the killer didn’t take someone with him.”

  “Me too,” Heather said. She knew it was a long shot that he would know, but she had to ask. She needed to find her friend.

  A Table and a Ticked-Off Customer

  The investigators wasted no time in following the leads that Tim Morris had given them. Well, they might have paused to have one more donut each as they decided which potential suspect to interview first. In the end, they decided to question the angry customer first simply because his name came first alphabetically. They would see whether the table he received that made him so angry was enough to make him murderous and then they would interrogate the competitor.

  The four investigators arrived at Brian Drake’s house and knocked on his front door. When the door swung open, the investigators found that they all had to look down at the man answering them. He was about a foot shorter than Heather and was looking very grumpy at being disturbed.

  “Mr. Drake?” Ryan asked.

  “That’s right. What do you want? If you’re selling something, I’m not buying. I’ve wasted enough money on worthless junk recently. And I imagine what you’ve got is pure trash if it takes four of you to try and sell it.”

  “Maybe it’s just a really heavy item,” Amy said. “And so you don’t want to provoke us to throw it at you.”

  Heather elbowed her friend as Ryan showed his badge.

  “We’re not selling anything, sir. We’re here from the Key West Police Force. I’m Detective Shepherd, and this is my partner, Detective Peters. These are two consultants, Heather Shepherd and Amy Givens.”

  “In that case, it must be something pretty bad if there’s four of you here out here investigating.”

  “A murder and a kidnapping,” Heather said.

  Brian Drake crossed his arms. “I don’t get it. What does this have to do with me?”

  “Were you acquainted with Peter Mapleson?” Ryan asked.

  “That’s right,” Brian said with a scoff. “I ordered a table from that ingrate, giving him some custom order work, and he completely botched the project. Every time I walk past my dining room, I think about how he ripped me off. Is that why you’re here? You want a character reference? Because you’re looking at him as the criminal?”

  “Not exactly,” Ryan began.

  “Not even close,” Amy said instead.

  “He was the victim,” said Ryan.

  “Oh,” Brian said. He adjusted his tie. “My condolences then.”

  “Do you mind if we ask you some more questions?” said Peters.

  “Come on in,” Brian said, opening the door wide. “And I guess we can sit around the monstrosity.”

  He led them into his dining room. At first, Heather was confused. The dining room table that she saw before her was beautiful. It had a diamond pattern inlaid over the center of its top, and it had ornately patterned legs. Heather thought it was lovely.

  She couldn’t understand how someone could hate this table. Then, Brian Drake sat down, and she understood. The table was a larger height than usual. He was already in a tall chair where his feet dangled and didn’t touch the floor. However, even then, the table came up to his chest instead of closer to his stomach.

  He glared at everyone at the table. “Mapleson said that this was built to my specifications. I ask you – does this look like this would be to my specifications?”

  “I can understand your frustration in paying for something that doesn’t fulfill your needs,” Heather said. “But that wouldn’t justify murder.”

  “I d
idn’t kill anybody,” Brian said. “Why would you think I did?”

  “Maybe it had something to do with all that stuff you said about Mr. Mapleson while we were at your door?” Amy suggested.

  “I was mad about this table, sure. But I wouldn’t have killed the guy.”

  “He was killed by someone who was angry at him,” Ryan continued. “He was bludgeoned to death with a hammer.”

  “Well, I don’t even have a hammer,” Brian Drake said. “That’s why I hired a carpenter to make a table for me. I’m not handy with tools. So I don’t keep them.”

  “Maybe you finally found a use for them?” Amy suggested.

  “He was most likely killed with one of his own hammers,” Ryan said. “You could have grabbed one and used it.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “Where were you yesterday morning?” Peters asked.

  “I was a little late to work yesterday,” Brian admitted. “I was having some car troubles. I got there about ten a.m.”

  “Did anyone see you having these care troubles?” asked Ryan.

  “Maybe. They might have heard me yelling when it didn’t start. I might have said some crass things. But I have a portable battery to jumpstart my car from. It ended up working.”

  “Mr. Drake, do you know a man named Rudolph Rodney?” asked Heather.

  “Can’t say that I do,” Brian responded. “Was he another unhappy customer?”

  “We’ve heard that you were the only customer with complaints,” Heather said.

  “That’s not true,” Brian said. “There must have been more of them. I know at least one more. She lives right down the street.”

  “Who is this?” asked Peters.

  “Lilith,” said Brian. “She lives two houses to the right. She was mad about a table she got too. It was all wrong for her. We were both asking for our money back.”

  “Is that right?” asked Heather. “Did either of you ask in person?”

  “I didn’t the morning he was killed if that’s what you're implying, and I’m sure she wasn’t either.”

  “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Drake,” Ryan said.

  “If you find out if I can still get a refund with the guy being dead and all, let me know,” Brian said.

  The investigators rose from the hated table and returned outside. They glanced down the street and then nodded at one another. It seemed that they had one more house call to make before they left the street.

  Neighborly Advice

  Ryan knocked on the door that Brian Drake had directed them toward. Heather, Amy, and Detective Peters waited with him.

  They were greeted by a woman with short blonde hair and a much happier expression on her face than they had seen at her neighbor’s house.

  “Are you lawyers?” she asked.

  “Pardon?” asked Peters.

  “I saw you at Brian’s house,” she said. “Were you talking to him about getting a refund for our problem furniture?”

  “They were talking about a table,” Amy said. “But not in the way you’re thinking.”

  “We’re detectives investigating a homicide and possible abduction,” Ryan said.

  “Goodness gracious. And you’ve come to talk to me about it now? Does it involve our street?”

  “No,” said Peters. “But the victim was your carpenter: Mr. Mapleson.”

  “Do you mind if we come inside?” Heather asked.

  “Of course. I will gladly open up the Van Vanders’ home to officers of the law.”

  “Van Vanders?” asked Amy.

  “That’s right. I am Lilith Van Vanders.”

  “Just seems repetitive to me is all,” said Amy.

  Ryan ignored the side conversation and suggested they move inside the house. Lilith led them to her dining room where there was enough seating for them all to sit down at. Heather also thought that this table was a work of art, and not worthy of hatred. This table was more of average size and had a subtle décor of ducks carved into the perimeter.

  “This is where I hoped to serve Van Vanders’ family meals,” she said. “But of course, I wouldn’t wish to do so on a table such as this.”

  “Would it be a Van Vanders Fam Family Me Meal?” Amy joked.

  “Now, what’s wrong with this table?” Peters asked.

  “It’s hideous,” Lilith said, simply. “The decent thing for Mr. Mapleson to do would be to give me a complete refund but still allow me to keep this table as a show of good faith.”

  “Why would you still want it if you think it’s so ugly?” asked Amy.

  “Because I should deserve something for my inconvenience. And I suppose I could use it until a replacement arrives. I think it’s the least that Mr. Mapleson could do.”

  “He won’t be able to do anything like that,” Ryan reminded her. “He’s dead.”

  “Right,” Lilith said. “That seems simply surreal.”

  “Ms. Van Vanders, where were you yesterday morning?” Heather asked.

  “Why, I was home here. I saw my children off to work around eight, and then I saw to chores around the house that I had been putting off. I did that quickly and was able to watch my stories on TV that afternoon.”

  “And you were alone?” asked Peters.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I’m widowed now.”

  “You didn’t head over to Maplewood’s Woodworks that morning?” Heather suggested.

  “No. Why would I?” she asked. “He’s not even open at that time. He doesn’t open until lunch without special arrangements.”

  “You seem to know a lot about his schedule,” Peters pointed out.

  “That’s the way he works,” Lilith said. “I found it out when I ordered this horror.”

  “It wasn’t what you asked for?” asked Heather. “You didn’t ask for this custom order?”

  “I might have asked for it and these specifications,” she admitted. “But an artist should really be able to tell when a customer is asking for something that will look so terrible. He should have warned me it would look like this. I truly think I deserve a refund.”

  “Did you tell Mr. Mapleson this?” asked Ryan.

  “Yes. I did. I called him several times with my complaint after the table was delivered, but he was stonewalling me. He said that he had fulfilled the order and that I should be happy with it. I could have laughed at that. But, of course, I was only very upset.”

  “Did you ever tell him in person?” asked Heather.

  “No,” Lilith said, shaking her head. “I never went back to his shop after I placed the order. I’ve only spoken to him on the phone since then.”

  “But you were angry with him?” Ryan pressed.

  “Of course,” Lilith said. “I didn’t like this table that he made for me. But that doesn’t mean I killed him. In fact, it hinders me now that he’s dead. I don’t think I’ll ever get my refund now.”

  Heather decided to change topics and see if she knew anything about her missing friend. “Ms. Van Vanders, are you acquainted with Rudolph Rodney?”

  “That name sounds familiar,” she said. “Oh yes, there was an article in the local paper about him recently, wasn’t there?”

  “Yes,” said Heather. “But you haven’t met him in person?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t mind it. He’s a handsome older man and very successful. You don’t know if he’s single by any chance, do you?”

  They made a quick exit soon after that. Outside, Heather sighed.

  “What do you think?” Amy asked.

  “Well, I don’t think either of them are hiding Rudolph Rodney inside their homes,” Heather said. “It doesn’t look like there’s much space to keep a kidnap victim.”

  “But they could be hiding him somewhere else?” asked Amy.

  “It’s possible,” Heather agreed. “I don’t think we’ve eliminated either of these dissatisfied customers as suspects.”

  Peters agreed. “Their alibis are both shaky. Lilith Van Vanders has no one to back up her story that
he was home, and Brian Drake was late to work. We only have his word that car trouble was the reason for it. Maybe he was committing a murder.”

  “We can talk to some of the other neighbors on the street and see if they remember seeing Brian Drake working on his car or Ms. Van Vanders at some point that morning,” said Ryan.

  “She did point out something interesting,” Heather said. “She reminded me that Mr. Mapleson was usually closed to customers at that time. Does that mean that he had an appointment with the killer as well as Rudolph Rodney? Or did the killer plan on Mr. Mapleson not being there? Or was he hoping to see him while he was working in the workshop and no customers were in the building?”

  “That’s a lot of questions,” Amy said.

  “I know,” Heather agreed. “I wish we had more answers. Because Rudolph Rodney is counting on us.”

  “We can go talk to Peter Mapleson’s competitor next like we planned on doing originally,” Ryan said.

  Heather nodded. She wanted to keep moving. However, there was something about what Brian and Lilith told her that was still bothering her. There was something fishy going on, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  The Competition

  They found Marvin Randall at his workshop, which was attached to his home. He was sawing some wooden boards into a curved shape. He was focused on his task and didn’t look up as the investigators entered through his garage.

  As he continued sawing, Heather began to wonder whether he really did sense them in the room and was choosing to continue ignoring them.

  Peters cleared his throat, but it couldn’t be heard over the power tool. Ryan waved his arm to try and attract the man’s attention. No one wanted to move too close to the working man in case it would cause the wood to slip and someone to get injured.

  “We can talk behind his back in the same room as much as we want when he’s like this,” Amy said. “I can’t see much of his face with those goggles of his on, but I do see a huge mustache. It’s so big that I’m surprised it isn’t a fire hazard with these sparks flying.”

  Heather was losing her patience. Rudolph Rodney could be in danger, and she didn’t feel like they were making enough progress to save him. Now, it felt like they were being thwarted in their attempts to talk to another suspect by a loud power tool spitting out sawdust towards them.