All Fudged Up (A Candy-Coated Mystery)

by CoCo, Nancy

  “What kind of goods would someone want to smuggle here?”

  “It was the nineteen twenties and thirties . . .”

  “Wait—Prohibition.” Jenn pointed at me and I smiled.

  “Yes, I bet Papa’s father was in the business of rum-running. Especially since we are so close to the port and there are so many wealthy vacationers who come to Mackinac for the summers.” I felt so proud of myself.

  “What we need is proof,” Jenn mused.

  “Well, there wouldn’t be any liquor left down there,” I said. “It’s been legal since 1933.”

  “Still, it makes a great story,” Jenn said. “I know, we can have a costume party. Let’s say a Great Gatsby party. It goes nicely with your cocktail-inspired fudges. Oh, we totally have to get flapper costumes.”

  Jenn was so excited she got Mal worked up. Both hopped off the couch, Jenn racing around with cotton between her newly polished toes and Mal running circles around her and barking. It made me laugh.

  “Stop laughing,” Jenn muttered as she grabbed a pad of paper from my desk and a pen. “I’m being flooded with cool ideas and I need to get them down. This is awesome. It fits the entire theme of the McMurphy.”

  “Wait, I thought we were Victorian . . .”

  “Well, you are, but the twenties weren’t too far off that. Too bad you don’t have a lovely lawn where we could set out lawn games.”

  “If you need a lawn you’ll have to stay at the Jessop Grander Hotel,” I grumbled. “We have fudge and easy access to downtown.”

  “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I was only saying how cool it would be with our theme. Besides, your guests don’t need a lawn. The grassy plaza at the foot of the fort is merely blocks away. Practically right next to the yacht club, too.” She grinned at me.

  I shook my head.

  “Now, I’ll have to plan this just right. With any luck, we can showcase the improvements to the McMurphy and I can show off my party-planning skills. Kill two birds with one stone.”

  “Do you think Papa knew about his father’s rum-running? I mean, Papa was just a small boy when Prohibition was over. Did he know how or why they built the tunnel?”

  “We will never know unless you uncover diaries in those bazillion or so boxes he left,” Jenn said. She sat back down on the couch and flung her feet and arms wide. “I’m exhausted.”

  Mal took a flying leap and landed square onto Jenn’s stomach. My friend gave a solid umph and laughed, grabbing the puppy and planting kisses on her. Then she made Mal stand on her hind legs and dance. “We’re going to have a Great Gatsby party, Marshmallow,” Jenn said with glee. “We’re going to be flappers and drink from martini glasses and eat finger foods. Oh, we should see if we can have the pool house for the party. Then we can bring everyone through the tunnel as if they are going to a speakeasy.”

  I stood. “I’m not having anything to do with Pete Thompson, and unless you want to pay for the insurance to have party guests crawling through tunnels in their party dresses, I think neither are you.”

  “True.” Jenn pursed her lips and looked at Mal. “We’re going to be flappers right here in our newly remodeled lobby and showcase our complete twenty-first-century security system to boot.”

  They both turned toward me, and Jenn made Mal do a little dance standing on her hind legs. “We’re so happy we could just die!”

  “I’m glad you’re happy, but please don’t die. I have enough trouble with finding only one corpse in the McMurphy. The last thing we need is two.”

  Chapter 25

  “I can’t believe she got everyone on the historical committee to agree to coming to a party this Friday.” I washed the front windows in the fudge shop area of the McMurphy. “That leaves me three days to make the new cocktail fudge recipes and box them up as take-home gifts.”

  “You don’t have to make the entire series,” Frances said as she cleaned out the candy counter. “Just a representative few.”

  “It takes weeks to perfect a recipe.”

  “And you’ve been working on yours for two years.” Frances straightened. “Don’t worry. You’re ready. You’ll blow them away.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll give up my summer salary to pay the difference in the repair costs they require.”

  “I don’t want you to have to do that,” I said.

  “Then make good fudge,” Frances replied.

  It was early morning, and I noticed that Paige Jessop walked down the sidewalk across the street from the McMurphy. She was with someone who looked familiar. “Who is that walking with Paige?” The man looked to be in his thirties, he wore a pale blue polo shirt, khaki pants, and boat shoes with no socks. His Windbreaker had an Izod emblem on it. His brown hair rustled in the wind and his hawk-like nose was tinged in red from the chill in the air.

  “That’s Emerson Todd. The guy you took the picture of,” Frances said. “He sold his family land to Paige. It’s the only way she could have gotten the plot of land big enough to build her new hotel.”

  “I thought he went broke in the real-estate bust.”

  “All the more reason to sell out to the Jessops,” Frances said with scorn. “Do you know they railroaded the project through the zoning commission by promising to pay higher taxes?”

  “Wow, it must be nice to be so sure of success that you would offer to pay higher taxes.”

  “Oh, she won’t pay higher taxes. Her uncle is on the county commission. He’ll make sure the taxes are delayed for seven years. By then she’ll sell off that hotel and walk away with a tidy profit.”

  “Who thinks like that?” I asked, shaking my head. “I’m surprised she got them to okay a new building. I mean, the beauty of the island is its age. Its old-time appeal.”

  “You know as well as I do life is about who you know.” Frances handed me her cleaning cloth. “Speaking of people you know, I need to get back to checking the RSVPs.”

  “Wait, you invited Paige and Emerson, right? I mean, if they have that kind of pull with the society, then I want them here.”

  “Yes, they are both invited, but I advise you not to put all your eggs in one basket, so to speak. I heard that the money Paige gave Emerson for his family’s land was well over a million. I doubt he’ll be wearing anything but a purple ribbon on his lapel.”

  “Right.” I watched them walk down the street and go into the Parrot’s Head Restaurant and Pub. It would be hard to compete with a woman who looked like Paige, even if I had a million dollars, which I most definitely did not.

  “I scored insurance.” Jenn rushed into the office, her cheeks pink with excitement. Mal jumped up and raced to her.

  “What?”

  “I scored liability insurance so we can take everyone on a tour of the tunnel.” Jenn picked up Mal and gave the fluffy puppy a squeeze. Mal licked Jenn’s face and my friend chuckled. “She is the sweetest puppy.”

  “She’s smart, too,” I said. “She’s almost completely house trained and she will sit for a treat.” I was such a proud doggie mommy.

  “You should teach her tricks to entertain your guests.”

  I got up and took Mal from Jenn. “I will. We’re going to go to obedience class next month. Frances got me in with the local vet. Now, what is this about insurance and why do I feel as if I should be worried?”

  “I called in a few favors and I got liability insurance for the night of the party. Douglas won’t have the materials to wall off the tunnel until next week.”

  “Wait, who’s Douglas?”

  “Your new handyman, silly.” Jenn rolled her eyes at me. “You just hired him.”

  “Mr. Devaney lets you call him Douglas?” I sat down and squeezed Mal. You couldn’t help but squeeze her—she was soft and warm and fluffy.

  “Yes, he was telling Frances and me the most amazing stories today.”

  “Where was I?” I wondered out loud.

  “You’re the boss, silly, you were up here doing paperwo
rk or something. Anyway, Douglas reassured me that he would not have the materials to wall off the tunnel until after the party. And, since I got liability insurance, I sent a note around that the party would begin in the McMurphy and we would tour the smuggler’s tunnel to the pool house. I’m hiring a couple of actors from Mackinaw City to come in and act out a murder mystery. It will be fantastic. Trust me, when people leave with your 21-and-older cocktail fudges, they will do nothing but rave.”

  “I’m not sure a murder mystery is in the best taste,” I mused. “Considering that I want to make a good impression on the Jessops.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ll be fine with it. Everyone will be in costume and it will be completely staged, far from the second floor and any reference to their grandfather. In fact, I’ve even scheduled a séance for later that night for anyone who wants to get in touch with the ghosts of McMurphy past.”

  “I don’t know,” I said and put a squirming Mal down. “Check with Frances.”

  “Oh, she is totally on board with the idea. Now, how do you feel about an advertisement in the Town Crier? We could call it Fudge, Flappers, and Femme Fatales.” She drew the title across the air. “It’s sure to get everyone who is anyone to come.”

  “Why would they come? They all hate me.”

  “Because, silly, I have also hooked us up with a local charity. There will be a fifty-dollar cover fee and all proceeds go to the children’s clinic on island. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

  I slouched. It wasn’t a bad idea, but how were we going to pull it off in three days?

  “Don’t worry.” She winked as if reading my mind. “You make the fudge and I’ll do the rest. I’m nothing if not brilliant at event planning.”

  “It’s not you that I’m worried about as much as Murphy’s Law.” I frowned. “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

  “That’s why we make it a murder mystery. Everyone will be thinking murder anyway. This gets it out there and gets them actively looking to solve it. Trust me, the party’s going to be killer.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of . . .”

  Chapter 26

  “I knew you were brilliant.” I studied the lobby of the McMurphy. “But I had no idea how brilliant. This place looks awesome.”

  Every bit of glass sparkled and shone, the wood trim was polished to a honey glow. The wood floors gleamed. There were round tables of various heights—some bar height, some table height with chairs—all covered with white linen tablecloths. Jenn had brought in potted palms to fill in the corners and add interest to the walls. The fireplace was filled with stacks of white candles that put off a soft glow. The two chandeliers gleamed and sparkled, dimmed to half their usual daytime brightness.

  A three-piece orchestra played on the left-side stair landing. The fudge shop area held fifty gift-wrapped boxes, each containing four quarter-pound cuts of different cocktail fudges.

  Mr. Devaney wore a 1920s-style tuxedo and prepped the four waiters Jenn had hired to serve coffee, cocktails, and fingers foods. Frances wore a sparkling red flapper outfit complete with beading, flapper headband, and an elegant white purse.

  Jenn had done my hair for me, braiding my long wavy locks into a soft style that might pass for short at first glance. After nearly emptying a bottle of hair spray in it, she had pronounced my hair perfect. Then we attached a pearl headband into it with hairpins and added another coat of hair spray for good measure. I swear I wouldn’t be able to taste anything but hair spray the rest of the night.

  I had on a white drop-waist sleeveless dress and long strands of pearls. The big find was a secondhand pair of shoes that fit perfectly and appeared to be right out of a 1920s catalog.

  “Where on earth did you find these shoes?” I asked.

  “I have my secrets,” Jenn had said with a twinkle in her eye. She wore a peacock-blue flapper dress with sparkling beads and a peacock-feathered hat. Her hair was perfect. She looked like she stepped out of an old-time photograph.

  Even Mal had gotten into the party spirit. She wore a flapper costume and did her best to rub off the headband Jenn had secured in her puppy hair.

  “No sense in fighting it, ducky,” I told her. “Jenn knows how to make clothes stick.”

  To which Mal snorted and stopped rubbing. She sat down and eyed me with her black button eyes.

  “Everyone, I want you to meet Madame Evelyn.” Jenn sailed across the lobby with a turban-wearing woman behind her. “Madame Evelyn is from St. Ignace and she has graciously agreed to run a séance tonight to try to reach any spirits hanging around the McMurphy.”

  “Hello,” I said and stuck out my hand. “I’m—”

  “Allie McMurphy.” She took my hand in both of hers. I noted that her hands were warm and her fingernails were filed into near points and painted blood-red. “You have some really good energy.” She tilted her head and studied me with brown eyes until I grew uncomfortable and withdrew my hand.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Jenn has set you up a table in front of the elevators. They have been blocked off for the night as we really want to keep everyone in the main lobby.”

  “Perfect.” She floated off. “Is that an open bar?”

  I watched her as she crossed the floor. She wore a red-and-gold caftan and a gold turban. I figured she might have been Grammy’s age. Tiny tufts of gray and white hair slipped out behind her turban.

  “Where did you get her?” I asked in a low whisper.

  “She runs a little psychic shop at the far end of Merchant Street. I thought it would be good to hire people from the community.” Jenn shrugged. “She came highly recommended.”

  “Well, then we had to have her,” I quipped.

  “Ah, here are Russell Haver and Angie Knight. They’re tonight’s actors.”

  A twentysomething girl and guy walked in dressed in full-on costume. Russ was dressed as Sherlock Holmes and Angie looked like a dame right out of the movie Chicago.

  “Kids, over here. I want you to meet Allie.” Jenn waved them over.

  “Hello.” I shook their hands. “I’m Allie McMurphy, proprietor.”

  “What a cool place,” Angie said as she shook my hand. “I can’t wait to see the tunnel. Jenn tells me it’s awesome.”

  “Right.” I said and turned to Russ. “I’m Allie.”

  “Russ.” His grip was firm and his dark black eyes and high cheekbones showed he had a bit of native in him. “We’ve rehearsed the script Jenn sent over,” he said. “But do know that we are also good at improvising. Once the guests arrive we will not break character until the last guest leaves. We work to give the partygoers the feeling they are part of the story.”

  “Great,” I said. “It’s important that we impress the people here tonight. They have all paid good money toward the cause and I want them to feel as if they are getting their money’s worth in entertainment.”

  “They will, don’t worry,” Jenn said and put her arms through Angie’s and Russ’s. “Come on, kids, I’ll show you around the lobby and the basement and such so that you are familiar with the layout.”

  “Here.” Frances handed me a glass. “Have a highball. You look like you need it.”

  I winced and took the glass from her hand. “What’s in it?”

  “Bathtub gin, of course.” She laughed. “Oh, and some tonic and a squeeze of lime.”

  “Perfect.” I took a sip and found I actually liked it. “Not bad.”

  “The bartender is as pretty to look at as he is talented.” Frances winked. “Relax, have a good time tonight. Your friend Jenn is a miracle worker when it comes to a party. I can’t believe she set this all up in a matter of days.”

  “I knew she was brilliant.” I sipped more gin. “Are we good to go? Do you have the scrapbook display out and ready for the historical society members to look through? I think if they can see that we have kept within the spirit of the original building they will sign off on the changes.”

  “A few free drinks and they should be more than
happy to sign.” Frances agreed. “Too bad we can’t have the paperwork out and ready.”

  “It would be too obvious.” I looked around. “We want to wine and dine them first. Hopefully it will be enough if, by the end of the night, they leave with yummy fudge and a memory of a good time.”

  “It should be more than enough.” Frances patted my arm. “I want you to know that I prepared the rooms upstairs in case anyone feels the need to stay the night. If they ask, send them to me, and I’ll walk them up and let them in a room.”

  “You are brilliant,” I said.

  “Of course, that’s why you love me.” Frances winked at me. “Ah, your guests are starting to arrive. Good luck and have fun!”

  I watched as a horse-and-carriage taxi pulled up to the front of the building. Men in suits and fedoras helped women in wool and fur coats down out of the taxi. It was dark, but the streetlight shone on them, giving them the odd appearance of stepping through time.

  “Welcome,” I said when they entered. Frances stood beside me and introduced the couples. “A pleasure to meet you. I’m so glad you could come.”

  “The place looks wonderful,” Mrs. Cunningham stated. “I do so like the pink on the walls. Oh, whose adorable puppy?”

  I bent down and picked up Mal. “This is Marshmallow. She’s here to ensure you are safe from any gangsters.”

  The crowd laughed and Mrs. Cunningham, a senior member of the historical society, cooed at Mal. She did her job and nuzzled her way into Mrs. Cunningham’s heart.

  The door opened again and another group entered. This one included Paige and Trent Jessop, along with their mother and her husband.

  “Thanks for coming,” I said and greeted them all as warmly as possible. I noted the purple ribbons on their lapels. Tonight I didn’t wear my ribbon. It was time to show the community that we were here for the best of everyone involved. But how could I blame the Jessops for their purple ribbons? Joe was their patriarch.

  “We can’t stay long,” Karen Jessop said as she took my hands. “But you were so kind to us that we felt we should come out and support a worthy cause.”