Forever Fudge

by Nancy CoCo

  I checked on the porters. They were five minutes out. Most island guests arrived by ferry. The ferries placed the luggage on the docks where each piece was tagged depending on the hotel the guests were staying at. Then porters would pile the luggage into bike carriers and bike them to various hotels. We usually got our guest luggage first because we were so close to the docks.

  A quick glance told me that the ladies were busy with Mr. Beecher. Mal sat in the old man’s lap. Mella stretched out on the back of the opposite couch, her tail twitching. Billy Zellor came in with his arms full of luggage. I had him put all he carried into the space behind the reception desk where I would sort it and lug it up to various rooms. Frances usually filled the guest rooms on the second floor with guests before she opened up the third floor. Now that I had luggage to haul up to the guest rooms, I understood why.

  “Hey, Allie, come over here for a minute,” Jenn said, waving me down.

  I walked over to the group. “Hi, Mr. Beecher,” I said. “Sorry I wasn’t able to get to you right away. It’s been a little crazy here without Frances and Mr. Devaney.”

  “That’s quite all right,” Mr. Beecher said. “I was telling Liz what happened and why the chessboard is so important.”

  “Do you think the killer is a member of the chess team?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” Mr. Beecher said. “I doubt it’s anyone who’s a regular. Those people are salt of the earth. That said, we do have one or two newbies.”

  “Just because you’re new to the island doesn’t make you a killer,” I said.

  “I’m not quick to judge,” Mr. Beecher said. “You ladies have proven to me that great people can be new to the community.”

  “This summer taught us that longtime residents can be murderers,” I pointed out.

  “Point taken,” Mr. Beecher said. “I’ll get you a copy of the club roster. They meet every Thursday at the senior center. You ladies are welcome to come join us.”

  “I think they’ll all know I’m not any good at the game,” I said with a shake of my head. “I don’t know the first thing about it.”

  “I know the names of the pieces,” Jenn said. “My father taught me.”

  “I was a member of the chess club,” Sandy said as she stuck her head out of the fudge shop. “Won several tournaments until they got mad and kicked me out.”

  “Wow, Sandy,” I said. “You amaze me.” Sandy was an expert chocolatier who learned her craft in New York City. She had come back to the island to help her ailing grandmother. Fortunately for me, she’d arrived after all the local hotels had hired for the season. When I stuck a HELP WANTED sign in the window, she had come for an interview. I’d looked at her credentials and knew she was a rare find. I didn’t have enough of a budget to pay her what she was worth, but we came to an agreement. Sandy could start her chocolatier business out of my fudge shop in exchange for helping me with the fudge.

  This was the week after the season was officially over. Traditionally we stopped giving fudge demonstrations and only sold fudge. Without the twice daily demonstrations, I had more time on my hands, that is, if Frances and Mr. Devaney were here. With the happy couple gone, Sandy was still doing a lot of work for me in the fudge shop. It might not be the official season but we still had a lot of foot traffic looking for world-famous Mackinac Island fudge.

  “Come out here,” I said. “We can use your help.”

  “Does this have to do with finding the dead guy?” she asked as she wiped her hands on her apron and came closer. Sandy was young and pretty with copper skin, high cheekbones, and a fat braid of black hair that ran down her back.

  “How did you know?” I asked. Sandy had been working and I hadn’t spoken to her about everything that had gone on today.

  “I hear everything,” she said simply. “Is that the opening move on your note?” She nudged her chin in the direction of the chessboard.

  “Yes,” I said. “The killer has picked the white side.”

  “He’s using a man’s death as the symbol for moving the king’s knight?” She frowned. “Seems grand.”

  “Too grand,” I said. “Why would he think Jack was anyone’s knight? Does he think that Trent is the king? Because Jack worked for Trent.”

  “It might not be that symbolic,” Mr. Beecher said. “Anyone who kills a man in cold blood is not all together sane.”

  “Okay,” I said with a sigh. “Should I go to the chess club meeting? I mean, if I show up and show how bad I am at playing chess maybe he’ll stop this madness.”

  “You think he’s going to kill again?” Liz asked. I could see her reporter’s ears perk up at the thought.

  “I certainly hope not,” I said.

  “We need to find out who might have wanted Jack Sharpe dead and why,” Jenn said.

  “I think we should leave that to Rex, don’t you?” I asked.

  “You can do that,” Liz said, “but, if this killer is trying to engage you in a game of wits, chances are it will only make him madder if you don’t participate.”

  I cringed at the idea. “Do you think one of us will be in danger?”

  “I don’t know,” Liz said. “Do you want to wait and find out?”

  “Mr. Beecher,” I said. “Can Sandy and I come to the next chess club meeting?”

  “Sure,” he said with a smile lifting his short, white beard. “I’d suggest you let Sandy here school you on the game first. It won’t do for you to show up and not play.”

  “Okay,” I said, and looked at Sandy. “Can you stay for dinner and teach me some basics?”

  “I have to take care of Grandma tonight. I can come tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Thank you,” I said, and gave her a hug.

  She stiffened, then patted me on the back. “I’ll go easy on the club members,” she said to Mr. Beecher.

  “Now, don’t you do that,” he replied. “These folks can do with some good competition.”

  Sandy raised an eyebrow. “I’ll do my best to give them some.”

  I raised both of my hands. “Please go easy on me. I have no idea what I’m doing. I understand you need to see four or more movements ahead of your opponent. I’m not that kind of clever.”

  “You will be,” Mr. Beecher said, and stood. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve outsmarted a few people in the past. You might find you’re really good at the game.”

  “I’d rather be making fudge,” I said, and tried not to pout.

  Mr. Beecher laughed. “I think we’d all rather you were making fudge. That said, I’m going to get me a piece.”

  “I’ll cut you a quarter pound of whatever you want,” I said. “On the house.”

  “On the house?” His eyes lit up.

  “As long as you help me hone my chess skills.”

  “Deal,” he said, and rubbed his hands together with glee. “I’m thinking dark chocolate.”

  “I’ve got several dark chocolate flavors,” I said. “Why don’t you come over here and pick out whatever looks best to you.”

  We walked into the glass-enclosed candy-making kitchen. The fudge shop had originally been pretty open to the rest of the lobby, but with the addition of a cat and a puppy to the McMurphy, I’d paid to have the shop enclosed with glass walls so that people could still gather around the kitchen and watch us make fudge. But it kept the pets safely away from the hot sugar. It also helped lower my insurance since the kitchen was now closed off to anyone but the staff.

  “I’m thinking that dark chocolate cherry walnut is just the flavor for me,” Mr. Beecher said.

  I cut and wrapped a nice quarter-pound piece for him. He took the boxed piece and slid it into a pocket hidden inside his suitcoat.

  “Do you want a bag?” I asked.

  “No, the pocket will do,” he said, and patted his pocket, then leaned in toward me. “I can’t let the competition see me with your fudge. They might think I’m picking favorites.”

  “Aren’t you?” I asked with a lifted eyebrow and a smile.
/>
  “Now only you and I need to know that, young lady,” he said. Then he put on his fedora. “I’ve got to get home to my Sheila,” he said.

  “There’s a Mrs. Beecher?”

  He winked at me. “She’s going to really enjoy that fudge.”

  Then I watched him walk out the back door and disappear into the alley. I don’t know why I’d assumed he was a bachelor. Maybe because he always walked alone. I made a mental note to learn more about my neighbors. People had a tendency to surprise you.

  Chapter 4

  It was after dinner and I had Papa Liam’s chess board set up in my living room. I’d spent the rest of the day checking guests in and out. Cleaning rooms, making beds, and generally ensuring my guests were comfortable and safe. The people coming in for the Butterfly House fundraiser all wanted to talk to me about the murder that happened at the Butterfly House and how I solved it.

  I finally had to have Jenn start handling the customers. The last thing I wanted was to relive those terrifying moments. Now Jenn was working and I was studying famous chess moves online. I played through several classic opening moves trying to see what chess players saw when they looked two or three moves ahead. Unfortunately, all I was successful in doing was giving myself a headache.

  My cell phone rang and I picked it up. It was Trent. “Hello?”

  “Allie.” Trent said my name and a wave of missing him washed over me. “Did you get my flowers?”

  “Yes,” I answered, and curled up on the couch. “Thank you.”

  “We haven’t talked since Frances and Douglas’s wedding reception.”

  “I know,” I said. “I wanted to let you know that I didn’t plan that kiss with Rex. It just happened. I think it was the romance of the wedding.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that,” he said gruffly. “I know we aren’t dating.”

  I swallowed hard. “That’s right.”

  “I want you back,” he said softly. “I miss you. I love you. What will it take to get you back?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “I meant it when I said that Victoria kissed me. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “Our problems run a little deeper than Tori,” I said. “You are always gone on business.”

  “I can fix that,” he said. “I can work remotely.”

  “I don’t know if I want to be responsible for you compromising your family business. Your mother and sister already don’t care for me. Now that the season is over your entire family is in Chicago. You can’t stay on the island just because of me.”

  “I want to stay for you,” he said. “You are what I want and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to understand that.”

  “You think that now,” I said. “But what if, ten years from now, you look back and think of all that you missed? All the business deals that might have gone a different way had you been there. What about your mom and your sister? I’m sure you want to live closer to your family.”

  “I want you to be my family,” Trent said sincerely.

  My fingers clutched the phone. “Trent, don’t . . .”

  “I know what I want,” he said firmly.

  “There seems to be a lot of that going around these days,” I said.

  “Do you know what you want, Allie?” he asked.

  “I know I want to make the McMurphy my life. I don’t want to just live here during the season like some fudgie. I want to make fudge year-round and take the off-season to do repairs and enjoy the different seasons on the island. It’s a simple joy I never knew. My father moved my mother away to Detroit before I was even born. I missed growing up here.”

  “I understand,” he said softly. “I’m willing to be where you are.”

  “But you haven’t been,” I said. “I won’t ask you to change that.”

  “You don’t have to ask me,” Trent said. “I can help you, Allie. I know a lot about business and the island.”

  “I know you do,” I said. “There’s no doubt you are successful, Trent.” I paused. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Where are you right now?”

  “I’m in my penthouse in Chicago,” he said. “I can be on Mackinac in the morning.”

  “I’ll be working in the morning,” I said, and sat back and closed my eyes.

  “You can’t tell me that you don’t miss me.”

  “I miss you,” I said. “I’ve been missing you a lot lately.”

  “I’ll be there in the morning.”

  “I’m busy,” I said, and sat up straight. “Frances and Mr. Devaney are out on their honeymoon.”

  “It was nice of them to wait until the end of the season,” he said.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Right now I don’t have time for anything but the McMurphy.”

  “And Rex?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what it means.”

  “Have a good night, Trent,” I said, and hung up the phone. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do with Trent or with Rex for that matter. I tried to put the problem out of my mind. Sometimes these things had a way of working themselves out. Most of the time it meant I ended up alone.

  * * *

  The next morning, I was up at 5 a.m. making fudge. The thing about the off-season is that you didn’t do demonstrations and without demonstrations you didn’t draw in the crowds to taste the product and impulse buy. So my production schedule was cut down by a third. I knew that spring and fall were the downtimes for the fudge shop. When the holidays came around, I planned on ramping up my online sales. The off-season was nice. All you did was make a few batches of fudge and when that was gone you were done for the day.

  Our hotel guests received a free pound of fudge when they stayed with us. So I calculated that into my batches. But now that the summer season was over there weren’t as many guests. In fact, if it weren’t for the butterfly museum fund-raiser I might have closed for the rest of the week. But the fund-raiser made the McMurphy an official weekend hotel and people had paid for packages where they would stay two or three nights at the hotel and attend the festivities.

  It meant the McMurphy was two-thirds full. Jenn came down around 7 a.m. and made fresh pots of coffee for the coffee bar and set out the daily newspapers. The butterfly group’s package included doughnuts and other continental breakfast foods. Jenn set things out on the buffet that Mr. Devaney had set up in the hotel for the fund-raiser. We had paper plates, plastic silverware, paper napkins, and coffee cups with sleeves set out.

  “That fudge smells so good,” Jenn said as she brought me a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” I said. “With smaller batches, I’ve been experimenting with new flavors. This one is a toffee and nut fudge. I’ve got a coconut, cherry, and pineapple fudge in the case. The standard regular chocolate fudge, dark chocolate fudge, peanut butter fudge, and then blueberry walnut.”

  “I’m surprised I haven’t gained ten pounds this summer just smelling your fudges,” Jenn said.

  I slid the last batch into the tray, put the tray in the candy counter, and closed the doors. “You always look like a million bucks.”

  Jenn wore skinny jeans, a flannel shirt, and work boots. “Thanks, but not today. I’m going to go help with some setup for the fund-raiser ball.”

  “That’s Saturday night, right?”

  “Yes,” Jenn said. “But we are going to open the ballroom on the third floor of the art museum for the dance. It’s been closed for over a year and they’ve stored some things in there. So today I’m meeting with Blake Gilmore and some of the others who are working on the fund-raiser. We’re going to clean the stuff out and then wash the walls and scrub the floors. Do I look like a washer woman?”

  I laughed. “You look like a model out on a fall shoot. You know you can always come help me clean up the guests’ rooms once you are finished with the ballroom.”

  Jenn laughed. “No, thanks, I have a feeling I’m going to be t
ired by the time I come home.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I’ve got Mal to help me. Don’t I, Mal?” I spoke to my small fluffy white pup. She barked an enthusiastic reply.

  “All you have to do is push her around like a dust mop and the rooms will be clean,” Jenn teased.

  “Speaking of Mal, I need to take her out on her walk. Can you handle things by yourself for a short while?”

  “As long as you don’t find another body and take four hours, we’ll be fine.”

  “Shush, don’t jinx me,” I teased her. I hung up my apron and put Mal on her leash. Then I snagged a heavy flannel jacket from the hooks along the back hall and we stepped out into a cool morning. The sun was barely up and the streets were unusually quiet. One of the best things about Mackinac was the lack of combustion vehicles. It slowed things down. The air was fresh and exhaust-free and people expected it would take a while to get around.

  Mal did her business and then we went for a walk. This time we walked down Main Street toward the elementary school and along the bike path that wound its way around the outer edge of the island. The trees had started to turn fall colors of red and orange. The pines danced along the bright blue sky while the lake rocked back and forth lapping at the rocky shore. There was something simple and beautiful about living on an island. I knew the winters could sometimes be hard, but I didn’t want to ever be a snowbird. I thought that one day my children would grow up on Mackinac and enjoy all the things the state parks offered.

  “Good morning, Allie.” I heard a call from behind me and turned to see Mrs. O’Malley and Mrs. Morgan riding up behind me on fat-tired cruiser bikes.

  “Good morning,” I called.

  Mrs. O’Malley was short with a round face and black hair in a pixie cut. I often spoke with her when I visited the senior center to deliver fudge and get all the latest island gossip. Mrs. Morgan had snow-white hair that was covered with a silk scarf. Both ladies wore jackets and jeans. They stopped beside Mal and me.

  “I heard you found another body,” Mrs. O’Malley said.

  “I read Liz McElroy’s column online last night,” Mrs. Morgan said. “She tells quite a story. Poor Jack.”