by Nancy CoCo
“The thing about Barbara is she really didn’t care. She did what she wanted and that was the way she lived her life.”
“I see you two won an award together for volunteering.”
“Yes.” She smiled at the memory. “Like I said, we did everything together.”
“Are you working on the Butterfly House fund-raiser?”
“Yes, I was co-chair with Barbara. In fact, I was the one who suggested your cousin as the planner.”
“What made you think of Victoria?”
“Her mother is a friend of mine. She said Victoria was in a bad relationship and needed a change of environment for a while. I remembered that Victoria put together her class reunion last year and then I suggested her helping with the Butterfly House.”
“Oh, so were you meeting with Tori that morning?”
“I was supposed to,” she said and tears came to her eyes. “But my husband was sick and I couldn’t go. I worry if only I had been there I might have saved Barbara. She might still be alive today.”
I patted her knee. “Or you could be dead as well,” I said. “I believe she caught someone in the act of rummaging through the Butterfly House. They panicked and killed her. Whoever it was was pretty strong and would most likely have harmed you as well.”
“Why did I survive and not Barbara?” She hung her head.
“Try your best to think of it as meant to be. There was nothing you could have done to save her and you could have been killed as well.”
She put her hand on her heart. “That’s a frightening thought.”
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted Barbara dead?”
“You think your cousin didn’t do it?”
“I was there when Tori tried to help her. So no, I don’t think my cousin killed Barbara.”
She reached for a tissue from the box and dabbed at her eyes. “Good, because I would hate to lose my friendship with Victoria’s mother as well as my best friend.”
I squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be all right. I’m going to figure out who did this.”
“You are?” She looked me in the eye. “Are you sure?”
“I’m certain that whoever was rummaging through the Butterfly House was the one who did it. All I have to do is figure out what they were looking for and who they were.”
“Ah, here you are.” Fred Sikes entered the room. He was dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt. Wanda straightened at the sound of his voice. “I thought I heard voices. Hello,” he said to me and stuck out his hand. “Fred Sikes.”
“Allie McMurphy,” I said and shook his hand.
Wanda stood. “Allie brought us a casserole. She was worried about me losing my best friend.”
“Is that right?” He looked from her to me. “I’m sure she’s going to be just fine.”
I stood at the sound of finality in his voice. Wanda put her hands on his arm and looked up at him. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” She turned to me. “Thank you for coming over and for the casserole.”
“You’re most welcome. I can see myself out.”
“Allie,” she called after me.
I turned. “Yes?”
“Don’t be a stranger. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
I noticed the strained expression on Fred Sikes’s face, but wasn’t able to understand the reason behind it. “I won’t. I promise.” I meant every word. Something was going on with the Sikeses and it felt suspicious. Maybe Fred Sikes had a reason to kill Barbara. It was something worth investigating.
Fast Fudge
Ingredients
14 oz. of sweetened condensed milk
2 cups of dark chocolate chips
1 tsp. of vanilla
Directions
In a 2-quart microwave-safe bowl, microwave the sweetened condensed milk and chocolate chips on high for 1 minute. Let sit for 1 minute and stir. (If chips are not all melted, microwave another 30 seconds.) Add vanilla and pour into a buttered 8-inch square pan. Cool completely. Cut into 1-inch squares and enjoy!
Chapter 16
“Yay, you’re back,” Jenn said when I walked into the apartment. She and Frances and Douglas were all sitting around the kitchen bar. “We’re cake tasting and we can use your expert opinion.”
“I don’t know how much of an expert I am,” I demurred and put my purse down.
“We have orange blossom with chocolate ganache and chocolate butter cream. Classic white almond with strawberry filling and vanilla bean butter cream and a chocolate cake with salted caramel filling and dark chocolate butter cream.”
They all sat with three plates in front of them and I could tell they were enjoying the tasting. “Chocolate is certainly unconventional for a wedding,” I said and pulled up a bar stool.
“Because it’s a second wedding for us both we thought we could have whatever cake we wanted,” Frances said. “But Heather Lakeland, the baker, included the almond cake in case we decided that we were traditionalists after all.”
“Heather Lakeland?” I asked as I cut a small piece from each taster cake.
“She’s a baker over at Mackinac Island Cakes. She made these three cakes and gave us a sample of decoration as well. Aren’t they pretty?”
“They are.” The orange cake had fondant orange blossoms strewn across it. The chocolate was frosted in art deco geometric frosting with white chocolate fan shapes. The white cake was decorated with real flowers in Frances’s colors of lavender and blue.
“Which one are you favoring?” I asked.
“I like the chocolate orange,” Frances said. “Douglas likes the traditional white.”
I forked up some of the chocolate orange. It was light with good sponge and tasted like a chocolate orange Christmas candy. “It’s good.” Then I forked up a bit of the white cake; it was moist with a lighter sponge and the flavor was subtle and not as bright.
“I like the salted caramel,” Jenn said and took another bite of her favorite. “But I don’t get a vote.”
“We’re stuck,” Frances said. “What do you think?”
“Mr. Devaney, why do you prefer the white cake?”
“It’s not so sweet and I like the real flowers on it.”
“And, Frances, why do you like the chocolate orange cake?”
“It’s bright and citrusy with the mystery of chocolate.”
“Which decorations do you prefer?”
“I like the real flowers,” Frances said.
“So do I,” Mr. Devaney agreed.
“Then why don’t you ask Heather to make you a chocolate layer and a white layer with an orange filling and white frosting?”
“You are genius!” Frances said and clapped her hands. “That way we have both.”
“And the citrus of the orange filling will cut the sweetness of the chocolate cake,” Jenn said. “That’s a good idea. I knew Allie could solve this little dilemma.”
“I’m glad to help,” I said.
“How’d it go taking the casserole over to Wanda Sikes?”
“Wanda seemed pretty broken up at the loss,” I said. “She told me she was supposed to go with Barbara that morning but her husband was sick so she called off.”
“Oh wow,” Jenn said and put down her fork. “Talk about guilt trip.”
“What do you mean?” Frances asked.
“Well, Wanda feels that if she had gone that morning, Barbara might still be alive,” I said. “She has survivor’s remorse.”
“Poor thing,” Frances said and took a sip of her coffee.
“What do you know about Mr. Sikes?” I asked.
“He’s wealthy,” Frances said. “I think his family runs a shipping business. They own several warehouses and barges that ship through the straits and move goods from Detroit to Chicago and Green Bay.”
“Have they always been a member of island society?”
“Yes, they are one of the prominent families,” Frances said. “Why?”
“Do you know any reason why Mr. Sikes might want to get Barbara out of Wand
a’s life?”
“That’s a pretty serious accusation,” Mr. Devaney said.
“It’s just he came in while I was visiting and didn’t seem at all happy I was there,” I explained. “It was as if he didn’t want me talking to Wanda. After introducing himself, he had Wanda basically show me the door.”
“That is odd,” Frances said. “I’ve always found Fred to be a rather accommodating gentleman.”
“Perhaps he was still not feeling well,” Mr. Devaney said. “I know I can get grumpy when I’m ill.”
“She did say she missed meeting with Barbara because Fred was sick.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Something feels off. Do you think Wanda is covering for Fred?”
“Why would Fred Sikes want to kill Barbara?” Mr. Devaney asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But he didn’t seem sick to me.”
“I wouldn’t mention this theory until you get more evidence. The Sikeses have a lot of influence, and a misstep in handling them can lead to a social disaster,” Frances said.
I frowned. “I suppose it makes sense that Wanda would marry as well as Barbara did. The only difference is Barbara’s husband died young and Wanda’s didn’t.”
“That left Barbara to have as many affairs as she wanted,” Jenn said. “I understand she was notorious. Maybe one of her jilted lovers killed her.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Barbara was in her late sixties. If a jilted lover was going to kill her, he would have done it when she was younger. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” Frances said. “Barbara took very good care of herself. It was no secret that she had a little work done here and there. She still had men at the social club fawning over her.”
“So you think it might have been a jilted lover who killed her?” I waved my fork in the air.
Frances shook her head. “I’m only saying that you can’t rule it out just because of her age.” She forked up more cake. “People fall in love at all ages.”
Yikes. I felt that little dig. “I didn’t mean that she was too old for a jealous lover.”
“What did you mean?” Mr. Devaney looked at me.
I felt the heat of a blush rush over my face. “I meant that it is much more likely that whoever broke into the Butterfly House killed Barbara than a jilted lover.”
“She might have had a stalker,” Jenn said with a bit of glee. “I heard a rumor that she posted a formal complaint about someone following her.”
“So Rex would know if she had a stalker.”
“He might,” Jenn said. “You should ask him. If she did have a stalker, he could have followed her that morning, saw she was alone when she went into the Butterfly House, and confronted her there. They fought and Barbara threatened to go to the police.”
“So he picks up a gardening spade and stabs her?” I shook my head. “Why would he stab the object of his obsession? Then she is gone forever.”
“It was most likely an accident,” Frances said. “You said that it had to be a crime of passion. The garden trowel was a weapon of opportunity.”
“I suppose she could have rejected her stalker’s advances. He got angry and stabbed her.” I bit my bottom lip thoughtfully. “So our list of possible suspects grows. I’m going to have a talk with Liz. She would know if the rumor about a stalker is true and who it might be.”
“Why not ask Rex?” Jenn asked.
I made a face. “He doesn’t want me to investigate.”
“That hasn’t stopped you before,” Frances said. “You have three possible scenarios, well, four if you count Victoria.”
“I’m not counting Victoria as a killer.”
“Then you have whoever broke into the Butterfly House, the possible stalker, and a jilted lover,” Frances said and counted them on her fingers. “But these are just theories. You have no names and no proof. I think you’re really reaching.”
“I know,” I agreed and rested my elbow on the bar and my chin on my hand. “But I’ve made such a mess of things for Victoria. I really feel if I can prove someone else did it, then Rex will have to apologize to Victoria and she will see that I care about her.”
“That’s a lot of work for a cousin who still may not like you,” Mr. Devaney said.
“I know, but I feel as if Papa Liam would want me and Victoria to be friends again.”
“Getting her arrested twice is hardly the way to win over her friendship,” Jenn teased.
“See,” I insisted. “I feel responsible.”
“Don’t feel responsible. You didn’t do anything wrong. Anyone who thinks otherwise is not thinking straight.”
* * *
The next morning, I walked Mal by the newspaper office on our morning walk. Liz was outside opening up the door and sweeping the stoop. “Hey, Liz,” I said with a wave.
“Good morning, Allie.”
I let Mal pull me up the walk to greet Liz. Mal jumped up and did a little twirl.
“Aren’t you in good form today, puppy?” Liz said and petted Mal.
“Did you find out any more on Sean Grady?” I asked. “Rex said he found all kinds of stolen goods in Sean’s place.”
“It was a great lead you gave me,” Liz agreed. “From what Rex told me, people have been coming forward to collect their things back. Sadly a good bit of it was already sold off.”
“Listen, I heard a rumor that Barbara had filed a complaint about someone who was following her and harassing her. Do you know anything about that?”
“Yes,” Liz said. “According to Bruce at the police desk, Barbara came in the week before she died and filed a formal harassment charge against Henry Potts. Potts was one of Barbara’s lovers. When she told him it was over, he took it badly.”
“Do you think he took it badly enough to want to kill her?”
“It was something I considered,” Liz said, “but Henry has an alibi. He was visiting his sister in Manistee the morning Barbara was killed. I have confirmation from the diner where they ate breakfast.”
“There were witnesses besides his sister,” I said.
“Yes. That’s why Rex ruled him out.”
“Well, darn.”
Liz rubbed Mal’s ears. “Does this mean you are still investigating Barbara’s murder?”
“Yes. I just don’t understand why Rex keeps insisting Victoria is guilty.”
“She’s his best candidate,” Liz explained. “I hear he arrested her for battery the other night.”
I rolled my eyes and blew out a long sigh. “It was all a case of mistaken identity. Sean Grady broke into the McMurphy. Tori was helping me catch him and hold him until Rex could get there.”
“I heard she had a knife to his throat.”
“None of us had a gun,” I said. “I already used my baseball bat to take him down.”
“How?”
“I threw it at him,” I said. “It hit his knees and knocked him over.”
“Sounds daring. Can I write about it?”
“Only if you talk about Sean being the bad guy and Tori being a hero. You can ask her. She’ll tell you she was only trying to help me hold Sean until the police arrived.”
“VICTORIA ANDREWS, HERO,” Liz said. “I do like the headline, or even better—HERO ARRESTED FOR NABBING BURGLAR: THE TRUE STORY OF HOW SEAN GRADY WAS CAPTURED. Yes, I like that. Thanks for the lead. I’ll get right on the story.”
I smiled. And Mal did a little dance before she pulled me away to continue our walk. I may never be able to make things up to Victoria, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.
Chapter 17
Our walk took us by the stables on the way to Main Street. The scent of horses filled the air and the sound of their shoes clomping on the pavement was comforting. The stables belonged to Trent’s family, and he usually smelled of expensive cologne with a hint of horse and leather from the saddles and gear. The stables offered horse rides around the island. I’d never tried it. My horseman skills were sub-par at best. I
was a baker, not an equestrian.
I glanced inside to see Victoria talking to someone. As I got closer, I paused. She was talking to Trent. I didn’t even know he was back on the island. They seemed to be in a serious conversation. That’s when it happened. She kissed him.
I froze. He put his arms around her and kissed her back. My boyfriend was kissing my cousin! That was not good. Mal saw Trent and pulled me toward him with great enthusiasm and I tugged her back. “No, Mal,” I said.
It was then that Trent saw me. “Allie.”
“Come on, Mal, we need to go home.” I pulled my dog away from the stables and down the street.
“Allie, wait!”
No, I wasn’t waiting. It was one thing to want to take a portion of the McMurphy from me. But it was a whole other thing to hit on my boyfriend. That was it. I was done with Victoria, and right at the moment I was done with Trent.
“Allie!” he called behind me, but I let the crowds of tourists slow him down as I practically ran to the McMurphy and slammed the door on him. I let Mal off her leash and stormed past Frances.
“What’s going on?”
“Tell Trent Jessop that I’m not talking to him.”
“What happened?” she asked as I hurried up the stairs. I didn’t take the time to answer because the door to the McMurphy opened and Mal went to greet her friend. Traitor.
I was trembling mad when I got to my apartment door. Maybe Rex was right; maybe it was Tori all along. I locked the door behind me and took two steps before Trent pounded on it. “Allie, let me in. It wasn’t what you think.”
“Go away, Trent.”
“Allie, please.”
“I’m not doing this right now,” I said.
“Allie, Tori and I—”
I stormed into my bedroom and closed the door, put on headphones, and listened to soothing music as I paced the length of my room. I figured it would take all of fifteen minutes before he had a business call that he would have to answer.
Trent Jessop was a busy man. Too busy to let me know he was back on the island and too busy kissing my cousin to kiss me. I wanted to stomp my feet and kick something. Back in Chicago when things made me mad I would go to the gym and work the emotion off. I didn’t have time for a gym here. I had taken to doing workout videos.
