Oh, Fudge!

by Nancy CoCo

  It only went up two floors but it was convenient when we had guests who couldn’t master the twin staircases that led to the guest rooms.

  “Why do you want to know about Barbara?” Frances asked and studied me from over the top of her reading glasses.

  I shrugged. “She’s dead. I witnessed my cousin trying to pull a garden trowel out of her chest. I want to know who put it there and why.”

  Frances went back to her computer screen. “You want to investigate.”

  “You make it sound like a bad thing,” I said. “My cousin was involved. What if she needs help?”

  “You don’t even like your cousin,” Frances accused.

  “It’s not that I don’t like her,” I said and put Mal down. “It’s that I don’t know her anymore.” I sighed. “It’s been years since we were kids and played together, but I still want to help her.”

  “You think she’s involved in the murder?”

  “She’s in town to meet with Barbara and help with a fund-raiser for the Butterfly House. She also was the one with her hands wrapped around the garden trowel handle when I arrived on the scene. What do you think?”

  “I think you shouldn’t be in such a rush to judge.”

  The heat of a blush rushed up my cheeks. “I’m not judging. I only want to know more. Did you know about the fund-raiser?”

  “Yes,” Frances said. “It was suggested at the garden club.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Did you mention that Jenn was a party planner? They didn’t have to call in Victoria.”

  “I mentioned it,” Frances said with a shrug. “But some people thought your cousin should get the job, not Jenn.”

  “Oh, right, because Jenn’s a fudgie and Tori’s not,” I said semi-sarcastically.

  “Exactly.” Frances stopped what she was doing and turned to me. “Don’t be insulted. But Jenn is a fudgie and Victoria grew up on the island. People love and trust her. They wanted a reason to see her.”

  I tried to keep my expression neutral. “Okay, I guess I could see that.” Jenn Christensen was my best friend from Chicago. She had come to Mackinac Island for the summer to help me get through my first tourist season. Since Papa Liam had died before I had a chance to work a season with him, I needed the help. Jenn was a party planner and organizer. She’d already helped me put together some really great events for the people on the island and the families who stayed at the hotel. I guess I was a little jealous. I wanted my friend to get the job.

  “It was Barbara who contacted Victoria in the first place,” Frances said. “Tori must be devastated.”

  “She seemed more pissed off than devastated,” I said. “But then it could just be because she was talking to me.”

  “Perhaps.”

  I let a pause swirl around us for a moment. “You know I had no idea Victoria would be upset over my inheriting the McMurphy. She lives in California.”

  “You lived in Chicago,” Frances pointed out.

  “Yes, but I was only there to get my degrees in culinary studies and candy making.”

  “And before that you lived in Detroit.”

  “Only because Dad moved us.”

  Frances shrugged and went back to work. “I’m simply pointing out that your circumstances aren’t much different than your cousin’s.”

  “I thought she had a new wine country tour business,” I said. “Isn’t she into California wines? Or was it a pet grooming business? I can’t keep up with her new start-ups.”

  At the sound of the word grooming, Mal froze, then went off to hide in her bed beside Frances’s chair. My puppy didn’t shed so that meant she needed to be taken to the groomer about every six weeks. Like me, she felt that a day at the spa was more torture than pampering.

  “It doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to come back to her home and help plan a fund-raiser for the Butterfly House,” Frances said. “Besides, you two are related. You should be taking care of each other, not at odds over Liam’s lack of forethought when writing out his will.”

  I thought back to Papa Liam’s funeral. Victoria had been there of course. I hadn’t noticed her. I was so caught up in my grief of losing my papa. Then terrified at the idea of running the McMurphy by myself. I’d completely overlooked my cousin.

  The thought made me frown.

  “What is up with the scowl?” Jenn asked as she bounded down the stairs. My friend Jenn was tall and lithe and gorgeous. Today she wore crisp, green linen crop pants and a lightweight silk tank in a green leaf pattern.

  “Allie is discovering there are more people than herself in this world,” Frances said.

  “I know there are others,” I said and made a face. “I serve them fudge every day. Plus I think of you guys all the time.”

  Jenn stopped and looked from me to Frances and back. “Wait, what brought this on? Are you two fighting? Because you don’t fight.”

  “We’re not fighting,” we both said at the same time.

  “Then what’s going on?”

  “My cousin Victoria is in town to plan a fund-raiser for the Butterfly House.”

  “And”—Jenn put her hands on her hips—“why the fuss?”

  “I thought you would be a better choice,” I said.

  “Why? Isn’t your cousin from here?”

  I wanted to give her the evil eye, but refrained. “Yes,” I said with a sigh. “She’s from here. But she now lives in California. And she didn’t tell me she was coming back to the island. And she won’t stay here because she’s upset that Papa Liam didn’t leave her partial ownership in the McMurphy.”

  “Wait, I thought you were the only heir—isn’t Tori a cousin on your mother’s side?”

  “No,” I said. “Papa Liam’s sister is Tori’s mother.”

  “Gee, how old was she when she had Victoria? I mean, isn’t Victoria our age?”

  “She just turned thirty,” I said. “My great-aunt had her when she was forty-nine. In those days they called them oops babies.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because she thought she was going through menopause and discovered she was pregnant when she went into labor,” Frances supplied.

  “Crazy,” Jenn said.

  “Don’t mention it to Victoria,” I said. “She hates that story.”

  “I don’t know why she hates it. It’s all true,” Frances said.

  “No one wants to be considered an accident their entire life,” Jenn said wisely. “Well, we should have Victoria over for dinner. You did invite her to stay here at the hotel, right?”

  “I did, but she won’t,” I said and crossed my arms. “She’d rather stay out at her father’s dusty old cabin in the woods.”

  “Then how did you know she was on the island?” Jenn asked.

  “You must have been working all morning,” I said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because Mal and I discovered Tori standing over a dead body.”

  “Oh no! Who? Where?”

  “At the Butterfly House. It was Barbara Smart.”

  “Oh man, and I didn’t get to bring you new clothes,” Jenn said with a twinkle in her eye. She was dating Shane and liked it when I had to call her to a crime scene to bring me fresh clothes.

  “Shane said to tell you hi,” I said. “He bagged Mal’s paws and asked me to go bring Victoria new clothes.”

  “Why did he bag Mal’s paws?” Jenn asked as she picked up my pup. “They look fine to me.”

  “She jumped on Tori and got blood from the body on her paws. Shane needed to verify that by sampling the streaks on her paws.”

  Jenn held my pup out in front of her and crumpled her face. “She didn’t lick the blood, did she? Because she just kissed me.”

  “I don’t know,” I teased. “Dogs do like to lick their paws.”

  “It’s why Shane bagged them first,” Frances said with a wise nod.

  “Ew, ew, ew,” Jenn said and put Mal down. “I need to go wash my hands and face and brush my teeth.” She ran back up
the stairs.

  I looked at Frances and she looked at me. “Are you going to tell her that Mal got a full bath or should I?”

  “I say we leave her to her own assumptions,” Frances said as she went back to her computer screen. “She could use a little excitement in her life.”

  The door to the McMurphy flew open, the bells on the back jingling as Liz McElroy, the local newspaper reporter, came rushing inside. “I just heard your cousin is a person of interest in the death of Barbara Smart,” Liz said. Her face was flush and her green eyes sparkled. “Do you have any comment for my article?”

  “When it comes to family,” I said, “you should know by now, Liz, that I have no comment.”

  Creamy Almond Fudge

  Ingredients

  4½ cups sugar

  13 oz. of evaporated milk

  ¾ cup of butter

  3 (7 oz.) chocolate bars broken up

  12 oz. dark chocolate chips

  2 cups chopped almonds

  7 oz. of marshmallow crème

  1 tsp. vanilla

  Directions

  In large saucepan mix sugar, milk, and butter. Over medium heat bring to rolling boil. Stir constantly for 7-10 minutes until it reaches softball stage. Remove from heat. Stir in chocolate bars and chips until melted. Add remaining ingredients and blend. Pour into buttered 8-inch pan. Cool—do not refrigerate. Cut into 1-inch squares and serve.

  Chapter 4

  Liz McElroy was close in age to me and Jenn. She was a tall, athletic girl with curly brown hair and a great big heart. Today she wore cargo pants, a pair of athletic shoes, and a dark blue T-shirt. “What do you mean you can’t comment?”

  “How do you know Tori’s a person of interest?” I asked.

  “I saw Rex Manning walking her into the police station,” Liz said. She pulled out a little notebook and pencil to take notes. “Mrs. Gilmore told me that you found your cousin Victoria looming over Barbara Smart’s dead body this morning with the handle of the murder weapon in her hand. Knowing that and seeing Rex escorting her inside, I put two and two together.”

  “I think he’s just investigating,” I said. “He knows Tori would never do such a thing.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Liz asked. “Because I heard that Tori and Barbara got into a big fight last night. Several people saw Tori stick her finger in the center of Barbara’s breast bone and say she would kill her if she didn’t keep her nose out of things.”

  “She did not!” Frances said.

  “That’s what I heard,” Liz said. “I’ve got three witnesses. If I’ve got them, then you know Rex has them as well. So now, Allie, do you have any comments for my article? Do you think your cousin is capable of murder?”

  “Anyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances,” I said. “But I don’t think Tori did it. What was the motive? Do you even know what they were fighting over?”

  “No,” Liz said, “but I intend to find out. And you can bet that Rex will find out, too. So I can quote you as saying anyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances?”

  “No, don’t quote that,” I said with a shake of my head. “People will think I’m talking about my cousin. I’m not. She was trying to save Barbara, not kill her.”

  “Do you know that for sure? Because they were arguing.”

  “She’s my cousin. She wouldn’t ever get mad enough to stab someone with a gardening trowel.”

  “So the murder weapon was a hand spade?” Liz snagged onto my slip. “A weapon of opportunity I would guess.” She wrote down a note. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “There isn’t anything I can tell you,” I said. “Really, Liz, I’ve said too much already. Just know that there is no way Victoria killed anyone. Not even accidentally.”

  “So you think it was an accident? Perhaps she picked up the spade in the argument and they fought and Barbara was stabbed.”

  “I didn’t say any of that,” I protested. “I thought you were my friend.”

  “I am your friend,” she said. “I’m simply trying to figure out Rex’s angle on this.”

  “Their arguing the night before is circumstantial. No one knows what happened this morning, except Victoria. I believe her when she says she found Barbara that way.”

  “That means someone else was in the Butterfly House and killed her moments before Victoria got there and moments before you got there. Did you see anyone else?”

  “No.” I drew my eyebrows together. “I didn’t see anyone but Mrs. Gilmore who came in later after I’d called nine-one-one. But then, they could have slipped into Insect World or any one of the front offices.”

  “Hmm”—Liz tapped her pencil on her notepad—“it sounds to me like your cousin is the best person of interest.” She made a note. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Liz, you can’t quote me. I really don’t know anything about this. I didn’t even know Victoria was in town.”

  “You didn’t?” Liz looked at me. “But she’s your cousin.”

  “She’s not talking to me. Apparently because Papa Liam left me the McMurphy and not her.”

  “Interesting.” Liz made yet another note.

  “Hey, that’s not for public consumption.”

  “Everything is for public consumption, Allie.” Liz winked at me. “But only if it is a clue to who murdered Barbara.”

  “Did you know Victoria was going to plan the fund-raiser for the Butterfly House?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t a secret as far as I know,” Liz said. “She was a year behind me in school but everyone keeps up with everyone on the island.”

  “But she moved to California years ago,” I pointed out.

  “She’s still considered a native.” Liz shrugged and her dark curls bobbed. “People keep in touch.”

  “Apparently not with me,” I muttered. Mella, my new cat, jumped up on the reception desk and rubbed her face against my sleeve, begging to be petted. I absently stroked the calico cat from her shoulders to the end of her tail a few times.

  Liz glanced at her watch. “Listen, I have to go. I’ve got a deadline. Promise me you’ll keep me posted on the investigation.”

  “What investigation?”

  “The one you’re going to do to keep your cousin out of jail. That is if you really believe that she didn’t murder Mrs. Smart.”

  “She didn’t murder anyone,” I said and raised my chin.

  “Let’s hope you can prove that,” Liz said. She turned on her heel and waggled her fingers at me and Frances. “See you soon.”

  “Are you going to investigate?” Frances asked.

  I stopped stroking Mella and she gave me a sour look and hopped down off the desk. “I’m not really in the business of murder investigations.”

  “You are really good at it,” Frances pointed out. “This could go a long way toward healing the rift you two girls have.”

  “Darn it, there is no rift,” I said. “I’ve got fudge to make.”

  “And a murder to investigate,” Frances called from behind my back.

  I wanted to turn and stick my tongue out at her for being right. But I controlled myself. I had a fudge demonstration to start in fifteen minutes and I needed to prep.

  Demonstrating how fudge is made is one of the best marketing methods for selling fudge. People like to watch how it’s done, but they don’t want to stand in the street or in the lobby for the entire time it takes to make fudge. So I usually posted the times we demonstrated fifteen minutes after I really started. It took a while to boil the sugar and water and base flavors to the right consistency to begin the turning process.

  The candy had to reach soft boil stage before we could remove it from the heat and add butter then toss it to the right consistency and add the more delicate pieces. I boiled together sugar and corn syrup, fresh milk and cocoa in a large copper kettle. When the mixture reached full boil, I quit stirring and left it for a few minutes to reach the p
roper temperature. I had to be careful not to over boil it and burn it, but also if you kept stirring constantly the mixture would take twice as long to reach the right stage of sugar boil.

  Today’s demonstration was dark chocolate cherry walnut fudge. The cherries were from Travers City, Michigan. The walnuts were also grown in Michigan. I tried to keep ingredients as local as possible. People from all over the world wanted to taste Michigan when they came to the island. I spent my time chopping ingredients and waving to people who stopped by the big window to watch.

  When the fudge was at the right temperature, I clipped on my microphone and grabbed Sandy, my chocolatier and assistant fudge maker, to help me start the demonstration. This was one of the parts I loved best about making fudge. With the large glass front windows and the glass-enclosed fudge area, people could gather and watch from three sides as we picked up the copper pot of boiling candy and poured the contents onto the cooling table with the marble top.

  I told the same stories Papa Liam used to tell as I grabbed a long-handled, metal-topped scraper and started to push the fudge base toward the center of the table. As I pushed the scraper, I lifted and tossed the hot syrup into the air to add volume and to cool. People watched in fascination as the mixture slowly started to thicken and hold its shape. When it hit a certain thickness, I swapped out the long handle for a shorter scraper and explained the art and science of fudge.

  The short handle allowed me to pick up the thickening fudge and form a long pool of it in the center of the buttered marble. I then reached for the cherries and added them to the top along with the walnuts. Finally, I folded them into the fudge with the scraper working quickly now as the fudge began to set. I created a smaller loaf in the center of the table and expertly cut one-pound pieces, adding them to the long tray that went into the candy counter. I cut off small tasting pieces and plated them. Sandy took the plate around the crowd offering free samples. Meanwhile I took orders at the counter as people purchased fresh fudge. Today we had five types—maple walnut, brown sugar pecan, dark chocolate cherry, milk chocolate, and classic cocoa.