by CoCo, Nancy
Okay, that sounded kind of creepy. “There’s no one here but my staff and I. I walk the halls every night and check each room.”
“What would you do if you found a killer? Call Rex Manning? Run? Or worse, try to detain him. Think about it. This guy has killed two grown men. Did you ever stop to think about what you’d do if you found him?”
Okay, so he had me there. I winced.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Mr. Devaney is here,” I said.
“That man is sixty-two years old.”
“And every bit as wise,” I stated. “Like I said, I’ve got it covered.”
Trent raised a dark eyebrow. “I don’t like how you’ve got it covered.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that he is going to help us out by taking a shift and patrolling the grounds,” Rex said as he walked up from the tunnel. “I’m serious, Allie. The summer officers won’t be here for another two weeks. Now, having four or five officers on island during the off-season usually isn’t a big deal, but in times of crisis . . .”
“Are you saying I’m in crisis?”
“I’m saying the island is in crisis. I’ve got an entire island to patrol—not just the McMurphy and the Oakton.”
“Well, I know that. I’m fine, really.”
“In times of crisis,” Rex repeated, “it’s tradition to call on the men in the community to pitch in. Think of it as your neighborhood watch.”
“How sexist is that? This is the twenty-first century. Women are perfectly capable . . .”
“And they have the day shift,” Rex cut me off. “I fully expect you and your staff to patrol the area during the day, but you have to rest. That’s why Trent is here. He’s going to be staying the night and ensuring you’re safe to take the morning patrol. I expect you to report anything out of the ordinary. Have I made myself clear?”
“Fine.” I gave him the stink eye. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m from Chicago for goodness’ sake. I know what it’s like to live in a sketchy neighborhood. Mackinac Island’s not sketchy.”
“Allie, two men have died within one hundred yards of your home. I think you need to let us watch out for you. It’s what neighbors do.”
“Think of it this way,” Frances said. “You’re now a part of the community.” She held Mal tight against her. “That was what you wanted, right?”
“Yes, of course.” I felt deflated. I had this grand idea that I could take over the family business and continue the McMurphy tradition of fudge and family. I looked from one handsome man to the other and suddenly realized that some things a person simply couldn’t do on their own.
“I thought you hated me,” I said to Trent.
“Why would you think that?” He looked affronted.
“Because of the purple ribbons and everything.” I waved my hand at the ribbon clearly pinned to his suit coat.
“My sister Paige bought that. I completely forgot it was there.”
“Listen Allie, I’m going to walk Mr. Devaney and Frances home. Are you okay to stay here with Trent, because if you’re not you need to say so right now.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Officer Brown is still processing the pool house. Jenn and I have cleaning up to do.”
“And I’ll be here as well,” Trent said. “I’ve got your cell-phone number in my phone.”
“Fine, I’ll see these good people home then.”
“Oh, dear, what are you going to do with all that fudge?” Frances looked into the fudge shop window at the stacks of pretty wrapped presents.
“Do you think it would be awful to send it out to the partygoers?” I asked. “They did pay for their tickets and should at the very least get some fudge out of it.”
“We’ll send it out with a nice thank-you note,” Jenn said. “A personal touch will go a long way to helping everyone heal from tonight’s shock.”
“Don’t worry, Frances,” I said. “Jenn’s right. We’ll send it out with thank-you notes in the morning. Go on home. We’ve all had quite a day.”
“All right, if you insist.” Frances looked exhausted. Mr. Devaney and Rex escorted her out into the storm.
Jenn smiled at Trent. “Do you mind helping us move the furniture and take down the strings of lights?”
“Not at all.” He actually smiled. I tried really hard not to roll my eyes.
“Great, I’ll go get a stepladder.” I headed to the basement, where I found Officer Brown studying the mechanism for the doorway to the tunnel.
“Oh, hello, I didn’t know you were down here,” I said.
“I’m doing my best attempt at being a crime-scene investigator.” His green eyes sparkled. “There really isn’t a whole lot of evidence. I’m snapping a few photos of things I find interesting. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” The stepladder hung from two hooks that were screwed into the wood joists. I grabbed a wooden box from the piles and dragged it over to the ladder. Pulling it down was no problem, the ladder was aluminum and light, but bulky.
Officer Brown reached up and helped me.
“Thanks,” I said.
“No problem.” He tilted his head. “What’s in the box you’re standing on?”
“I don’t know, why?” I looked down at the box.
“It seems to be bleeding.” He snapped a photo as red liquid oozed out from beneath my feet.
This time I did scream.
Chapter 30
Okay, so I never climbed off a box so fast in my life. I have no idea how the ladder got tossed across the basement or how I managed to put Officer Brown between me and the oozing box. Sheer terror can make stuff happen.
“What happened?” Trent came tearing down the stairs.
“Are you okay?” Jenn was right behind him.
“It’s not blood.” Officer Brown squatted down and put his fingers in the liquid. “It’s too thin.” He sniffed it, then licked his fingers.
I felt the blood drain out of my head.
“Sit down!” Trent commanded and pushed on my shoulder until I did as he said. “Head between your knees.”
“I think I’ve done this before,” I muttered.
“It’s wine,” Officer Brown said and I heard his camera take a few shots. “Do you have a hammer? I’ll open up the box.”
I kept my head down and pointed. “It’s on the workbench.”
Jenn rubbed my back. “Are you okay? What happened?”
I sat up and concentrated on her face and making the room stop spinning. “I pulled a box over to get the ladder when Officer Brown asked me what was in the box. I said, ‘I don’t know. Why?’ He said ‘It seems to be bleeding.’”
“It’s not bleeding,” he said, his tone calm. He had a claw-backed hammer in his hand and bent down. “It tastes like alcohol.”
“Probably left over from a New Year’s party or something,” Trent said.
The men took turns cranking on the top of the box. It creaked and moaned as the nails strained and suddenly it popped open.
We all looked inside.
There was what remained of twelve dark bottles. Only two were intact. Officer Brown pulled them out and wiped the dust off. “Châteauneuf-du-Pape 1933.”
“Damn, that’s an old vintage,” Trent said and took the bottle from Officer Brown. He held it up in the lamplight. “The cork’s not brittle so it had to have been stored properly.” He drew his eyebrows together in a frown. “Why is the box full of broken bottles? Did you roll it on its side?”
“I didn’t roll it.” I got up and looked at the box. “I pulled it from over there.” I pointed to the spot near the other boxes where this box had been.
“I was here when she did it and I didn’t hear glass break.” Officer Brown pulled out the second unbroken bottle. “These were broken not too long ago or the dirt floor would have absorbed the liquid and it wouldn’t still be oozing.”
“True.” It was my turn to frown. “Do you think
the box was dropped?”
“It could account for all the broken bottles,” Trent said.
“Who would drop it?” I wondered out loud.
“Didn’t you say, Mr. Devany has been cleaning down here? It might have been heavier than he thought,” Trent suggested.
“Wait, the box has some old papers in it.label.” I knelt down to look at the paper advertisement on the side of the wooden box. “Someone used this paper to wrap the wine.” I pulled it out and looked at it closely. “It’s fudge wrapping paper and it says, ‘Agatha’s Fudge voted best on island 1945.’”
“Mabel Showorthy owns Agatha’s,” Trent said.
“She was here the other day commenting on the renovations,” I added. “But this box is heavy. There is no way she could have come down and tried to carry it off.”
Officer Brown took some snapshots of the box and the label on the side. “For all we know the box could have been in the basement since 1945. Its use might have been out of convenience.”
I bit my bottom lip. “Papa does have a lot of old stuff down here.”
“Do you remember the box?” Trent asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “We were down here most of the day yesterday taking inventory and making a list of necessary purchases to wall off the tunnel.”
“Don’t wall off the tunnel,” Trent said.
“Why not?”
“People love a good ghost story.”
“Besides,” Officer Brown said, “the opening mechanism is really unique.”
“It’s not safe for me or my guests,” I said and meant it.
“Then lock it off, but don’t wall it,” Trent said. “For all we know, there could be an entire network of smugglers’ tunnels under the island.”
“What? No, there is only the passage from here to the pool house, remember?” I was still feeling a bit fuzzy-headed from my scare.
“There is that other old door,” Officer Brown said. “Did you check that out?”
“What other door?” Jenn asked as she squeezed my arm between her palms. I think she meant to hold me up, but had somehow forgotten. I could feel the excitement in her palms.
“There’s a second door near the pool house.” I shrugged and gently dislodged her from my arm.
“I didn’t notice it,” Jenn said.
“Because it hadn’t been opened in years and years,” I said. “Rex and I decided it was not an issue with this investigation.”
“You can’t know that for sure unless you check it out,” Officer Brown said gently. His dark eyes sparkled with excitement and hope.
“Fine, it’s probably nothing more than a broom closet,” I said. “But you have a gun so I imagine it’s safe to go check it out.”
I hoped those weren’t going to be famous last words.
Chapter 31
“I see chivalry isn’t dead,” Jenn said in a stage whisper as the two men took off toward the door, leaving us behind.
“You would think I said there was a pot of gold behind door number one.”
“There might be,” Jenn said as she waved me through the door first. “You never know. We could use a miracle right about now.”
“Right,” I agreed. We got to the end of the tunnel to find Trent and Officer Brown wrestling with the old door frame. It seemed to have swollen up in the damp tunnel. The lock worked well but the key appeared to be permanently in the lock, having rusted into the mechanism. The hinges were tarnished as well and refused to budge even when the door was knocked upwards in an attempt to dislodge the door from its hinges.
“Can you get that hammer?” Officer Brown asked me.
“I can’t believe you two left it behind.” I went back to get the hammer. The basement was cool and quiet compared to the warmer, wetter tunnel. I suspect that the number of people traipsing through there tonight made a difference.
I grabbed the hammer off the top of the box and when I straightened a big hand covered my mouth and arms locked around me like a vise.
My first instinct was to scream, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t had time to catch a deep enough breath.
“Make a sound and I will kill you with my bare hands,” said a raspy voice. His hot breath bathed my ear and had creepers running down my spine.
I tried to silence the screaming in my head and pay attention to things. Whoever held me was definitely a man. Besides the deep tone of the thick, raspy voice, he wore a black suit coat and no jewelry.
I was pulled up against a solid wall of heat. The man was a little taller than me and definitely wider. My hands were free and I still had the hammer. There were a number of things I could do. I tried to remember self-defense.
SING, right? What did that stand for? Solar plexus, Instep, Groin, Nose . . . Was that right? It didn’t seem like the right order. Darn it, it all seemed so easy in the movies. I tried to step on his instep with my pumps, but he shifted and I stumbled backward. He grabbed my hand with the hammer and squeezed hard enough to bruise it.
I grabbed his thumb and he was forced to let go. “Bitch!” Something hard hit the side of my head and knocked me sideways.
I made a small sound as I stumbled back into the boxes. Look up! I thought as I worked to catch my balance. My hair hung in my eyes and I clenched the hammer like a wild thing as I dug my hair out of my eyes.
But he had snagged the bottles of wine and rushed up the stairs in a blur of footfalls and black suit.
“No!” I thought I shouted the word, but it came out more of a squeak as I scrambled to follow him up the stairs. He had slammed the door behind him.
The gang from the tunnel rushed through into the basement and up the stairs.
“What happened?” Trent asked.
“There was a man,” I could barely get the words out as I threw open the door, holding the hammer high. The McMurphy lobby sat empty and quiet. The lights had been dimmed and in the distance the grandfather clock chimed twelve. I rushed to the door, yanked it open, and nearly beaned Emerson Todd with my hammer.
“Whoa.” He raised both hands and stepped back. “I’m not doing anything.”
“I’m sorry,” I managed to squeeze out. I glanced around him. But there was no one else on the street. “Did you see a guy run out of the McMurphy?”
“No, why?”
“I was just attacked in my basement,” I said and turned on my heel to run straight into Trent Jessop.
“We have to quit running into each other,” Trent said as he gently pulled me off him.
“Seriously,” I agreed.
“What’s going on?”
“She says she was attacked in her basement,” Emerson said. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I swear, I didn’t see anyone run out of the McMurphy.” He made me sound like a crazy woman.
I gave him the stink eye. “I was attacked. The man ran off with the two unbroken bottles of wine.”
“I believe you,” Trent said. “If Emerson didn’t see anyone run out, then your attacker may still be inside the McMurphy.”
“Exactly!”
Officer Brown and Jenn crowded the doorway.
“I didn’t see anyone in the lobby,” I said. “He had to have gone upstairs.”
“Oh, I certainly hope not,” Jenn said. “I’ll have nightmares the rest of the night if he did.”
“I’ll clear the place.” Officer Brown had his gun out and pointed toward the floor. “You guys stay here and watch the front door. If anything happens, make sure it’s safe before you pursue. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’ll go with you,” Trent said. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
“I only came to get my coat. I forgot it in all the excitement,” Emerson said.
“Your coat?” I drew my eyebrows together.
“Yes, you took it from me when I came in to the party.” He crossed his arms.
Mal barked and startled me. In all the excitement I forgot she was around. She stood near the door of her crate an
d looked at me with big round eyes.
“Hold on.” I opened the crate and let Mal out. She jumped up on me, coming only to my knee. I reached down and patted her head. “You didn’t see the bad guy, did you? Maybe you can tell me where he went?”
“Hello, my coat please? I want to get home sometime tonight.” He tapped his foot.
Mal sniffed in his direction and growled.
“Mal,” I admonished her. “No growling!” It was only the second time I had ever heard her growl at a person. I didn’t want her to make a habit of growling. Luckily she quit as soon as I said something. “I’m sorry. Your coat must be in the fudge shop. I’ll get it.”
I found his coat hanging on a coat rack in the corner of the fudge shop. I usually used the rack for hanging aprons and such, but when the lobby closet had filled, I used the rack to store the last coat or two.
“Here you go.” I handed him the wool coat. It was thin and heavy. Black in color, it had a thick notched collar and large pockets. The man’s coat must have been a real period piece as I hadn’t seen anything like it before. “Nice coat. Kind of heavy, though. Is there something in the pockets?”
“No, nothing in the pockets. It’s my grandfather’s. He bought it in the late twenties. It’s a sentimental heirloom.” Emerson slipped his coat on. The motion caused Mal to bark at him again.
“Mal, no!” I picked up my puppy. She snuggled against me, but watched Emerson warily. “I’m so sorry. She is usually so good with people.”
“It’s been a long night.” Emerson shrugged. “I’m sure she is tired and mixing me up with someone else.”
“Of course.” I wasn’t sure who Mal could be mixing Emerson up with, but it didn’t matter. What really mattered was to get the man to understand that I have a good business—as good or better than Paige Jessop would ever have. “Let me get you your fudge.” I carried Mal into the kitchen and grabbed one of the colorfully wrapped gifts off the counter. “The price of tonight’s ticket included a free sampling of my latest fudge. This series is based on alcoholic drinks like piña colada and tropical rum.”
“Thanks.” He took the box from me and stepped outside into the darkness.
The sky still misted, and the wind blew cold off the lake. I watched as Emerson walked down the street. The coat was not only heavy but oversized and made him look bigger than normal. Who would wear a coat that made them look larger?
