by Valley Sams
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CANDY CATS AND MURDER
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Candy Cats
and
Murder
Book Four
in
The Chocolate Cafe Series
By
Valley Sams
Copyright 2016 Summer Prescott Books
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CANDY CATS AND
MURDER
Book Four in The Chocolate Cafe Series
CHAPTER ONE
There was one thing that could be said with great certainty about Mackenzie Bay. It wasn’t that the nightlife was exceptional (it wasn’t) or that the locals were friendly for they certainly weren’t. It was that the postal service was beyond compare. It was the truly outstanding feature of this little, exclusive seaside town.
For example, when Mac opened the chocolate shop door at 8 am, there was already a large pile of envelopes and flyers strewn across the floor. It boggled the mind. Mac had to use all of her willpower just to drag herself out of bed at 7 am and there was someone out there, trudging through the empty streets at an ungodly early hour, ensuring everyone had mail to peruse over their morning coffee. That had to be at least a 5 am wake up call.
“Impressive,” she mumbled to herself. Her still tired body aching, she bent at the waist to pick up the haphazard collection on the floor. Her groan when she stood up was loud enough to echo slightly off the tall ceilings. It was easy to forget how huge the shop was when it was so constantly packed. In the two years it had been open, it had developed a cult following among both the locals and food tourists who were drawn in by consistently excellent reviews in the city magazines and online. Mac could take no credit for any of that. She was the mail collector, the bill payer and the shop opener. It was Sabrina who had richly earned all the praise.
It was her gift that had earned the shop the “Best of the Coast” and “Golden Plate Award” decals that now dappled the front window like a preteen’s sticker book. In fact, a week hadn’t gone by when Mac didn’t forward an email to Sabrina from some reporter looking to pick her brilliant mind for a piece. Not surprisingly, she ignored them. She had been ignoring quite a few of these requests since the fiasco with her last boyfriend. And hygiene…she had been ignoring that a bit, too.
That was the thing with creative people…they feel things deeper than the rest of the species and their bruises take twice as long to heal. Not that Mac blamed Brie. That last bruise was a doozie.
Mac tossed the pile of mail onto the large marble service counter and walked around to turn on the espresso machine. It was an antique that Brie had had imported from Italy and it took forever to get up the motivation to start working. Mac felt an affinity with it this morning. If it could, it probably would’ve groaned just as loud as she did when she switched it on.
She opened the laptop that served as command central for the shop and while she waited for it to boot up, casually flipped through the pile of envelopes.
Somewhere between a bill and a handmade flier for a window washing service, Mac was surprised to find an orange envelope. Unlike the other flimsy notices and mass-stamped letters, the paper was heavy and richly textured. Sabrina’s name was hand written on the front and two stamps, bright and slightly askew were plastered to the right hand corner.
She should wait for Brie to show up and open it herself. However, Mac was a terrible snoop by nature and knew darn well that Brie would probably just dump it in the bin like everything else she received. At least that’s what she told herself as she tore into it.
The letter inside was on equally luxurious paper and was written in the same hand. Someone had obviously taken great care.
Sabrina,
We have been trying to reach you for some time through both email and letters. My name is Jacquie Duncan and I am the lead coordinator of the first annual Mackenzie Bay Chocolate festival.
As I have mentioned in my previous letters, the city will be hosting what is sure to become the international standard for chocolate trade shows in only a few weeks. We have managed to secure the greatest chocolatiers in the world to join us at the Lighthouse Pier to both showcase their skills and to take part in what is sure to become one of the most exciting, fiercely competitive events worldwide.
Not only do we have competitors from as far away as Norway, but we have some of the world’s best judges arriving this week as well. We are exceptionally proud to say that internationally acclaimed critic Benson Bevacqua has even agreed to be head judge for the competition – truly a boon for the event.
We have agreed that the best representation of our little town’s skill set is you. The coordinators all feel that although the event will be spectacular, it will not be the same without your attendance and contribution.
We have been holding a table for you to showcase your product as well as a spot for you in the competition. I know that you will do our town proud and win the top honors, if only you would respond to my request.
If you are interested, each chocolatier has been asked to create three separate deserts using the theme of ‘Halloween candy’. You will be judged on creativity, skill and flavor.
Please respond as soon as you can with your decision. The entry was closed to all other competitors three weeks ago and I can only bend the rules for you for so long.
Hoping to hear from you,
Jacquie
“What cha reading, nerd?” Mac jumped, almost crushing the letter in her hand. How many times had Brie given her a tiny heart attack by sneaking up on her in the morning? She had been so wrappe
d up in the letter that she hadn’t heard the door open. Brie stood on the other side of the counter, sunglasses covering half of her face, her hair a helmet-induced disaster. Normally she would’ve been thrilled at the fact that she ‘got her again’, but lately, she was as half present as a woman trapped between dimensions.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Mac said. She frowned slightly, “What happened to the bell above the door?”
Brie shrugged and took a sip from her convenience store coffee. Typical Sabrina. She’d spend thousands on a vintage brass espresso machine for the customers but guzzle vanilla flavored nonsense from a Styrofoam cup whenever she got the chance.
“I got rid of it yesterday. Couldn’t handle the dinging. Every time someone came in or out, ding, ding, ding!” Brie grimaced. “ It was killing me.”
She didn’t used to be so irritable. Until her boyfriend turned out to be incurably corrupt, she had been one of the most easy going people Mac had ever met. When he’d turned up dead…. well, that’s when that happy go lucky Sabrina decided a full retreat was necessary.
Mac wiggled the expensive orange paper in Brie’s face.
“Did you see this?”
“Did I see what? A piece of paper? I’m seeing it now.”
“No, Grumpy. You’ve been invited to an international competition. Apparently you’ve been invited MANY times, but…”
Brie sighed and took her sunglasses off. Her eyes were red – no doubt from another sleepless night and another bottle or two of wine.
“Let me see…” She said, and took the paper from Mac’s outstretched hand. There was a pause as she read it. Mac watched her friend’s face for some sort of expression. Excitement maybe? Pride? Nothing… except for a slight sneer, of course. “Oh yeah, this thing,” she said. “This woman will not leave me alone. This is like…the fourth letter she’s sent me.”
“You should do it!” Mac said, her voice a little too enthusiastic. “International acclaim? You could easily win that competition.”
Brie shrugged again, her collarbones hollow and jutting from the thin black sweater she wore. Apparently she’d lost weight along with her joie de vivre.
“I mean it; the things you’ve been making these days have been unbelievable. Why do you think that bell was ringing so much? People can’t get enough of your work! They’re filling up the shop every night because of you.”
“Some of the best artists do their greatest work when they’re depressed. Maybe I should’ve stumbled across my lover’s corpse a long time ago.” Brie snapped. Her eyes, crusted as they were, suddenly burned with weary anger.
Mac was taken aback. Relieved that her friend had mustered an emotion other than ennui and hurt, she found herself speechless. Brie pushed the letter across the counter, her cheeks flushed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Sabrina. Listen to me,” Mac said. “How much crap have we been through together?”
“Tons.” Brie mumbled, still embarrassed at her outburst.
“Exactly. I know you better than I know myself and I think you need this. You need to get out of your head and share your gift with the world outside Mackenzie Bay. This judge guy…” Mac looked at the letter, “Bevacqua…. he’s supposed to be a big deal. Imagine the exposure you could get if you win this!!”
“That’s the problem,” Brie sighed. She began to nervously fiddle with her hair. “He’s one of, if not THE biggest jerk in the industry. People fear him. He has literally given birth to and then broken the careers of so many people. I’ve seen him make people shake…like seriously, shake… I don’t want to deal with that.”
Mac reached across the counter and took Brie’s hands. They were sweaty but cold.
“But you can,” Mac said. “You can deal with that and you will. Let’s do this together, Brie. You and me. We’ll make it fun. Honestly…”
Brie was beginning to cave. Her pretty, petite features, which had been so harsh lately, seemed to visibly soften.
“If anyone can make a grown man cry, it’s you. Big Bad Bevacqua has no idea what’s coming to him.”
“Is there a prize?” Brie mumbled again. Perfect. Mac had her and the competition was as good as won.
“I’m sure there is.”
“It better be a big one.”
CHAPTER TWO
They were better off without the bell. What Mac had originally thought of as a symptom of Brie’s depression was actually an altogether rational response to the fact that the door really did never stop opening and closing. In fact, halfway through the morning, the girls were starting to think a revolving door would be a good replacement.
“We’ll get one with our prize money.” Brie had said, blowing a stray strand of hair off her sweaty forehead. Mac was very pleased – our prize money. Maybe her Sabrina was coming back?
From approximately 9:10 to noon, the café had been completely packed. Whether it was the many articles that were popping up from bloggers or the almost constant stream of awards Brie was unwillingly receiving, the two girls barely had time to breathe let alone sit down. Money and cards were handed over the counter with abandon until they were down to the very last truffle.
“That’s it.” Brie announced, her voice ripe with shock. “That’s the last chocolate. We’ve sold out in three hours.”
“There’s no more?” A bearded man with a too-new Nirvana shirt sounded like he was about to cry. “I’ve been in this line for half an hour!!” Groans from the customers behind him rolled backward like a wave. Some raised their hands in frustration, one woman even gasped.
“Sorry everyone,” Mac announced, “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“There’s a really good salt water taffy place a block or two down.” Brie called out, barely concealing her sarcasm. There were a few muttered curses and the customers dispersed. If there had been cans on the floors, they probably would’ve kicked them. One by one, they wandered out, disappointed and slouchy, until the shop was blissfully empty.
“Well?” Mac announced, hands on her hips. “What was that about being intimidated by some judge?”
Brie smiled and it was a brilliant thing. The red had gone from her eyes, and even though she still smelled faintly of last night’s pinot grigio, she had a healthy sheen of sweat on her - the glow of triumph.
“Big Bad Benson won’t know what hit him.”
“Am I right?” The girls attempted an awkward high five, their laughter loud in the suddenly quiet room.
Brie proudly surveyed the empty display cases. There was not even a speck of chocolate left in them and none upstairs in her ‘workshop’ either.
“I need to get to cracking,” she announced. “I’ve got to fill the shop up and start figuring out what I’m going to do for the competition. When is it?”
“This Friday.” Mac said, pushing chairs back into place and tidying up from the onslaught. On the way past the door, she spun the open sign to closed.
“That gives me four days. Five if I start now…what are you looking at?” Mac had paused at the front door. How could someone with a masters in criminology be so unobservant? There had been an empty space between the hair salon and souvenir shop for as long as they had been there. It was smaller than most of the retail spaces and didn’t benefit from the same big windows as the rest. It had always seemed like an afterthought to Mac – a few extra square feet that they didn’t know what to do with when they converted the original property.
It appeared that someone knew what to do with it however.
A woman stood in the darkened doorway, staring back at her, her eyes dark and unblinking. The mellow autumn sun couldn’t reach the small spot, making Mac wonder for a second if she was real or some kind of clever Halloween decoration put up by the landlords. The spell was broken the woman leaned to the side and turned on her ‘open’ sign.
“There’s someone in the shop across the way,” Mac said.
“In ‘Hair it Is?” Than
k god. That guy never has clients. I was starting to worry I would have to go give him my business out of pity.”
“No, not the salon. That little shop that no one’s ever rented.”
“No way.” Brie was at Mac’s side in a second, her nose practically pressed against the glass. “Oh my god, you’re right. Look, they have one of those cheap-o neon open signs, too. What’s that sign say?”
The girls leaned in together, their breath almost steaming up the window. They squinted to read it.
“MoonPhase Remedies. Mystical herbalist and healing teas.” Brie read slowly. She was useless without her glasses. Mac laughed, clapping her hand over her mouth. She was a great lover of quackery of all sorts. Predictably she was also a great champion against it…
“Oh my…MoonPhase Remedies. We have to go check it out.” Brie hesitated. She put her hand on Mac’s when she went to turn the doorknob.
“Can you behave yourself? I mean, are you able?” Brie asked, one eyebrow raised. “Remember what happened when I took you to that paranormal fair? Remember?” It was Mac’s turn to look sheepish.
