Asking for Truffle: A Southern Chocolate Shop Mystery

by Dorothy St. James

  I told Jody what I’d been telling everyone: The shop would only remain open until the end of the Sweets on the Beach festival. Afterward, I planned to close up. Pack up. And forget I’d ever heard of the place.

  “Are you sure you’re not going to change your mind?” Jody’s voice, still sharp and shrill, started to attract the attention of those around us. “Everyone is saying you’ve been bitten by the same bug that had attacked Mabel. A stink bug, if you ask me.”

  “Really, Jody. What would I do with a chocolate shop? I need to get back to Madison.” To what? I had no clue. But still, I felt the pull to go back to the safe, the known.

  The jobless.

  “I-I can’t stay here,” I said with a rush of panic. “This is where my friend died. It’d be too painful to face that day after day while wondering if his death was somehow my fault.”

  Jody’s shoulders dropped . . . just a bit. The tension around her mouth loosened. “I suppose I can believe that.” She tossed her arm over my shoulder. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time just now. The hot chocolate is excellent.” To prove it, she started looking around for her abandoned mug.

  I handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” She took a long, slow sip. “You really are a good friend, Penn. Like the sister I’ve never had. Makes me wish you weren’t leaving.”

  “Thank you,” I said and then asked, “Why does it matter to you if I keep the shop or not? Cal told me you intended to redevelop the property. But this is a fairly large island. Certainly, you can find another parcel—”

  “The company I work for has already paid a large deposit on this building.” I could feel the tension in her arm coil as she answered. “We paid that money in good faith, mind you.”

  “Who did you pay? Mabel? I thought she refused to sell.”

  “She did refuse to sell,” Bertie said as she came up from behind us. She removed Jody’s arm from my shoulder. “The town doesn’t want or need the kind of megadevelopment you’re proposing.”

  Jody sighed dramatically and said, as if talking to a child, “You don’t know everything, Bertie. Thank you for the hot chocolate, Penn. I’ll be at the Low Tide tonight if you want to talk some more.” And with that, she moved on to chat with Bubba Crowley, who enveloped her slender body in a huge bear hug.

  “You don’t think Mabel took the money from Jody’s company to pay for the new school in that Brazilian village, do you?” I asked Bertie.

  “She’d never do that,” Bertie replied tersely.

  “Then who do you think Jody paid?”

  Bertie shrugged. “Probably no one. That girl is stuffed full of lies.”

  I made a mental note to ask Jody the next time I saw her. Perhaps I would go to the Low Tide Bar and Grill tonight. All my questions seemed to revolve around that place.

  With that bit of trouble handled, I returned my attentions to the rest of the public who’d crowded themselves into Mabel’s tiny shop. Many of the residents, after finishing their drinks, had ended up staying. Soon the morning hot chocolate sale turned into an impromptu wake for Mabel Maybank. She was much more than a business owner in the town. I was quickly learning how she’d contributed to the community, donating hundreds of books to the local library, providing scholarships for graduating high school seniors, and mentoring young business owners like Izzy at the Dog-Eared Café. The picture the townspeople painted didn’t mesh at all with the picture I had of her: a woman who had tried to scam me into dumping piles of money into her shop . . . and her town . . .

  Wait a blasted minute . . . those two pictures did mesh.

  She knew she was dying, and she needed to find someone with deep pockets to take her place. A dupe like myself, who found it hard to walk away from lost causes.

  But she was such a sweet old lady. And I’d only reopened the shop until next week. So you couldn’t say I’d been duped. Not really.

  The cash register dinged from another sale. Derek grinned and gave me a thumbs-up from across the room. The day was unfolding better than I had ever hoped, and the money that was coming in would help fund the supplies we’d need to buy for next weekend’s festival.

  Speaking of the festival, I needed to take an inventory of what we had on hand so I could start making a list of what we needed to purchase. Since everything was under control out front, I headed down the narrow corridor toward the back rooms.

  For the first time since arriving in this wretched place, I felt truly happy. I even had an extra bounce in my step. I could do this for a week. It was going to be fun.

  I’d barely finished that last thought when a hand snaked out from a storage closet and grabbed my arm. Before I could react, someone pulled me into the closet’s dark expanse.

  Chapter 13

  In a move learned from years of self-defense classes I’d taken to improve my self-confidence, I swung. Despite the almost complete darkness, my fist landed as intended, striking my attacker squarely on the nose. The viselike grip holding me hostage immediately released my arm.

  “Oww!” a low voice cried before I managed to scream. “I pull you aside to have a word with you, and you hit me? What did you do that for?”

  “Harley?” I asked, squinting into the darkened storage room. “Why did you grab me like that, you creep? You don’t go around grabbing women and dragging them off like a caveman.” My fists were still raised as I moved toward him.

  He retreated, throwing himself into a shelf on the back wall. There was a crash as several items fell.

  “Everyone is telling me how you have anger management issues, how you’re dangerous to be around,” I said. “So I’m wondering, am I safe here? Should I scream?”

  “No! Heck no. Don’t scream. Please. That would bring everyone running this way.”

  I had to laugh. “That’s the whole point of screaming.”

  He started to chuckle. It ended in a moan. I flipped on a light.

  Harley must have found a place to thaw out. His skin had lost the pasty-blue twinge it had the last time I’d seen him. His nose, now cradled in both his hands, dripped blood onto the concrete floor. Littered all around his feet were crushed boxes of tissues and paper towel rolls. “You have a wicked left.” That last bit came out with another long groan.

  “Remember that the next time you start thinking about grabbing any piece of me.” I picked up a paper towel roll from the floor and thrust it into his hand.

  “I needed to get your attention.” He put some paper towels on his nose. They didn’t do much to stop the blood.

  “So you’ve said.” I planted my hands on my hips and fought the urge to go looking for some ice. “Why did you need my attention?”

  “Is Jody still out there?” he asked instead of answering.

  “Last I saw, she was drinking her second cup of hot chocolate and talking with your brother.”

  “You need to get rid of her. Now.”

  “Why? Hey, wait a sec. How did you get in here if you didn’t come through the front?”

  “Used the back door.”

  “No, you didn’t. I locked it.”

  “Sorry to tell you this, but that lock has been broken for years.”

  “I know.” And now I also knew he had the knowledge of how to wiggle it just right to get it to open. “Why do you need me to get rid of Jody?”

  “Because she’s toxic. Haven’t you noticed that yet?”

  “She might be a little high strung, but she seems nice enough. She just told me she thinks of me as the sister she’s never had.”

  “She has a sister, Penn.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why would she say that if she already has a sister?”

  “Because she’s nuts,” he said, but quickly added, “She hasn’t been on speaking terms with her own sister for nearly five years. It bothers her. If you don’t believe me, ask her. No, don’t ask her.” He lowered his voice. “I’m worried, Penn. I’m worried she’s in over her head with this development venture she’s been spearheading. And I’m wor
ried she might have killed Skinny.”

  “You think she killed her ex-lover, you mean? Or was he her current lover?” I asked.

  “So you know about that already?” He didn’t sound happy about it. Not one bit. “Small towns have big mouths.”

  “I know you threatened to kill Skinny on the night he died. Are you ready now to tell me what the two of you were arguing about?”

  Still cradling his bleeding nose in a blood-soaked paper towel, he shook his head. “This isn’t about me. Well, it is, kind of. I’m the reason Jody moved to Camellia Beach. She followed me when I moved out here from Atlanta. She came here to make my life hell. And things have gotten out of hand. She’s gone off the rails. Lost her mind.”

  I tilted my head. “Most exes perceive their ‘worst half’ as toxic or evil or even downright dangerous. I’ve seen it happen time and again. And it’s rarely reality.”

  “You have much experience in this arena?”

  “I have three ex-stepmothers. None of them has ever claimed me as a stepdaughter, but that doesn’t make them monsters. Well, stepmother number two might actually be a demon from hell. But the other two have been unfairly vilified. Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I’m trying to tell you. It’s Jody. I think she’s the one who’s been trying to hurt you.”

  “Really? Do you know she’s been telling me the same thing about you? Why should I believe you over her when you’re the one who’s been stalking me? You’re the one who owns a black sedan. And you’re the one who attacked me and dragged me into a dark storage room.”

  “I know on the surface things look bad. But that’s partially her fault. She lives to make me look like the bad guy. And she gets upset with anyone who won’t go along with hating me.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You didn’t answer my question.” I repeated it slowly, “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because Jody has something to lose if you decide to keep the shop. I don’t. That’s why. Mabel has been blocking her redevelopment plans for over a year now.”

  “And you and Skinny had a nasty history.”

  “This isn’t about me or your friend and what he did with Jody!” He abruptly stopped himself and sucked in several deep breaths. “You should hear the voice mail she left for me when she found out you were opening the shop this morning. No, you shouldn’t hear it. It’ll only scare you. Let’s just say it’s made me worried enough to go to that idiot Byrd.”

  “You mean the police chief who claims there’s no crime in Camellia Beach?”

  “That’s the one. He wrote up a report but said the message sounded like Jody was only ‘venting her spleen’ or some such nonsense. He refused to take her threat seriously.”

  “She wants me to meet her at the Low Tide tonight,” I said.

  He grabbed my arm. “Whatever you do, don’t go!” I tensed. He immediately released me, throwing his hands up. “Sorry. Forgot about the no-touching rule.”

  I couldn’t watch him stand there dripping blood all over the floor a moment longer. The paper towels weren’t nearly absorbent enough. “Hold on a sec.” I darted down the hall to the kitchen, where I knew I’d find a clean dishcloth hanging from a rack. I then dumped ice into the dishcloth from the freezer.

  “Mama and I have been looking all over for you,” Althea said as she breezed into the kitchen. She’d dressed in a simple winter-white silk tunic and matching flowing pants. Her mandala pendants tinkled like tiny bells as she rushed across the room toward me. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to see the shop open.”

  “It’s just temporary,” came my rote reply.

  “I know, I know. Mama told me. But still, I can feel it in the air. There’s been a shift—”

  “Don’t talk about that magic stuff with me.” I tried to squeeze past her to get back to Harley. What I hadn’t anticipated was that she’d doggedly follow me down the narrow hallway to the storage room where I’d left him.

  When I arrived, I found the storage room door shut, the light turned off.

  I flung open the door and flipped on the light, expecting to find him cowering like a whipped dog in the corner. The room was empty. All signs that he’d been there—the blood on the floor, the smashed napkin boxes and paper towel rolls—were gone. Wiped away as if he’d never been there, as if I’d dreamed the entire strange encounter.

  “Did you see Harley when you came in?” I asked Althea. She must have passed him in the hallway.

  “No. I haven’t seen him all day.” She frowned at the empty storage room and then rescued the icy dishcloth from my strangling grip. “What’s wrong?”

  Since I wasn’t sure who to trust, I simply grumbled, “Nothing. Just thinking about going to the Low Tide tonight.”

  “That dive? Why in the world would you want to go there?”

  “It was the last place Skinny was seen alive.”

  “Oh. Right. I’d better come with you then. I don’t think it’s safe for anyone to go there alone. By the way, Mama wanted to let you know she sold the last of the hot chocolate, which is amazing. I saw the size of the pots the two of you brewed.”

  “That’s great news,” I said, although my mind was still reeling over what Harley had said. I should have demanded he play the phone message for me. I should have demanded he take that phone message, if it actually existed, to the county detective who was investigating Skinny’s murder.

  “Mama suggests we close up for the day and help get you moved into Mabel’s apartment,” Althea said.

  “Right now?”

  “I’m here to help however I can. That is, if you’re willing to let me help.” She drew several long breaths. “I am terribly sorry about helping Mabel send you that stupid prize letter. I hope you can forgive me. Mabel should have just called and talked with you. But with her, it was all about the dramatic reveal.”

  “It seems to be a town trait.” I looked back into the storage room one last time before turning off the light. Why was Harley stalking me? And why had he been so worried about Jody finding him if she was the one acting suspicious?

  “Before we do anything else,” I said while still keeping an eye out for Harley, “I need to put a new lock on that back door.”

  Chapter 14

  As Bertie had suggested, we closed the shop as soon as we were able to persuade the lingering customers to finish their drinks and return to enjoy the island’s “winter wonderland.” Cal ducked out almost immediately after we’d turned over the closed sign on the door.

  Althea started cleaning out the pots and scrubbing down the kitchen. I worked in the front café area, mopping the floor and wiping down the counters. Bertie set about putting the trays of chocolates back into the cooler.

  Although we were only open for a half day, by the time we’d finished cleaning, the muscles in my arms and back hurt. I stretched this way and that. Althea was doing the same.

  Bertie, on the other hand, moved around like a hyper teen. “The body gets used to the work,” she assured me. “I remember how I ached the first week I worked with Mabel. Now let’s get you moved into the apartment.”

  “What about the chocolate in the grinder?” I asked. “Don’t we need to do something with that before we leave?”

  Bertie sighed. “I’d plumb forgotten about it. We can pour the chocolate into the molds first thing in the morning. It’s more important that we get you settled in a more permanent location so you can get a running start tomorrow. Let’s go.”

  “Uh, I guess I should be going too,” Derek said.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of his voice. “Oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize you were still here.”

  He was leaning against the cash register. His eyes looked tired. I doubted he’d slept well last night. Grief was an emotion that stole from the other vital parts of one’s life. Like sleep. And happiness.

  “Thank you for helping out today,” I said to him. “We couldn’t have managed without you.”

  He crossed the
room and patted my arm. “Glad to do it.”

  I remembered how Izzy had told me that Skinny had spent most of his time in Camellia Beach questioning Mabel’s children. So I took the opportunity to ask Derek, “Did Skinny McGee happen to talk with you before he died?”

  Derek nodded. “Several times. Personable fellow.”

  “What did you talk about?” I asked.

  “Oh, this and that.” Not really a helpful answer.

  “He didn’t happen to ask about—oh, I don’t know—the Chocolate Box, perhaps?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  His gaze narrowed as if he knew why I was questioning him. “Not the shop,” he answered after his silence had made my heart beat hard for several harrowing seconds. He finally shrugged as if he’d decided telling me what he knew wouldn’t divulge anything important. “He wanted to talk mostly about Carolina. Odd, really. Hadn’t talked to anyone about my oldest sister in years.”

  “She’s the one who disappeared?” I asked.

  Bertie stepped in to answer that one. “She was the one who broke Mabel’s heart the most. She not only ran away from her heritage—the walls of this shop—she also ran away from her family.”

  “And no one has heard from her?” I asked.

  “Not a peep in more than thirty years,” Derek said.

  “It’s odd that Skinny was asking about her,” I said as the four of us made our way to the back of the building. On the way, I ducked into the office to free Stella. My little dog greeted me by actually wagging her tail . . . a little. She seemed so glad to see us—in fact, she barely growled at either Bertie or Althea. She did, however, jump up and try to nip Derek’s unsuspecting hand.

  “Stella!” I scolded. Amazingly, she stopped jumping.

  Derek chuckled at my dog’s antics, but he quickly sobered. “I am sorry about what happened to your friend. He seemed nice, but he also struck me as . . . troubled,” he said as we all stepped outside. The marsh beyond the trees looked cold and forlorn.