Forever Fudge

by Nancy CoCo

  “Did you know Jack Sharpe?” I asked.

  “Honey, we know everyone who’s ever lived on the island longer than a season,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “Jack lived here his whole life. Not that he had much of a life. The man was always out on the lake fishing. All he cared about was fishing.”

  “You know he rarely even brought any fish back home to eat,” Mrs. Morgan added. “He said it wasn’t about a food source, but the thrill of fighting with the creatures.”

  “I understand he worked at the Jessops’ stables,” I said. “Did he work there his entire life?”

  “Ever since he got out of high school,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Jack didn’t have much ambition and he was happy to be who he was. His poor mother wanted to tear her hair out. She brought this beautiful healthy boy into the world and he didn’t have the wherewithal to even give her grandkids.”

  “Do you have any idea who would want to kill him or why?”

  “No, we have no idea,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “There’s no scuttlebutt about any skeletons in his closet. As far as we knew he was only one of two places—in the stables or on the lake.”

  “Where did Jack live?”

  “He rented a small place for the longest time, but a couple of years ago he moved. You see, his family owned a little cottage up by the airport. Not much to look at,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Just a tiny two-bedroom place. When his mother died, he moved in there.”

  “Who gets the property now that Jack is dead?”

  “Well, I suppose that would be his niece, Nell,” Mrs. O’Malley said.

  “Does Nell live on the island? Is she his only relative?”

  “Nell lives in Grand Rapids,” Mrs. Morgan said. “She’s a teacher down there in one of the colleges.”

  “Nell’s his only relative. Jack had a brother, Barney,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “Barney moved to Grand Rapids. He met and married a gal down there. Nell is their only child. Is she coming up to take care of funeral arrangements?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I imagine she might.”

  “They weren’t that close,” Mrs. Morgan said. “She might just have him cremated and stored up here until next summer.”

  “I don’t know why she wouldn’t come,” I said. “The island is gorgeous this time of year.”

  “She’s a teacher,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “It might be too much for her to come all this way.”

  “What do you ladies know about the chess club?” I asked.

  “Not much,” Mrs. Morgan said. “They meet at the senior center once a month or so. It’s after lunch and I’m usually taking a nice nap about then.”

  “I used to play chess,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “It’s been a while but I used to hold my own a few years ago.”

  “You mean fifty years ago,” Mrs. Morgan said with a laugh.

  “Seems like yesterday to me,” Mrs. O’Malley grumbled.

  “Are you wanting to join the group?” Mrs. Morgan asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “I’m just learning chess. I’d rather wait to see if I am any good at it.”

  “All it takes is practice, my dear,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “You’re smart. You’ll get this figured out.”

  “I started reading some of the how-to books, but frankly, it’s awfully confusing.”

  “Don’t read those books,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “They’ll fill your head full of things other people have done. The best way to play chess is like you, not mimicking others. It will keep your opponent on their toes.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile. Mal started pulling on her leash. “Got to go,” I said, and let Mal pull me back toward town. “Come visit me anytime.”

  “We will, dear,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “I’m looking forward to more fudge.”

  “I’ll come around the senior center soon,” I said. “I promise to bring some fudge—with nuts.”

  “My favorite,” Mrs. Morgan said. I let Mal pull me back toward town. The sky had started to cloud up and the smell of rain filled the air.

  There was one thing I learned from the ladies. Whoever killed Jack Sharpe wasn’t his niece, Nell.

  Chapter 5

  “What are you doing?” I asked Mal as she stopped along the route and dug at a flower garden in the front of one of the giant vacation cottages on the island. She dug harder. I finally reached down and scooped her up in my arms. “Stop that.” The last time Mal dug in a flower garden she dug up pieces of a shredded human body. I wasn’t in the mood to find another dead person.

  Mal looked over my shoulder and barked. I turned to see what or who she was looking at. There in the hole that Mal had dug was a sock. I approached it with trepidation. Pulling the bit of clothing out of the hole, I studied it in the light. Mal’s tail wagged like she had done a great thing. “It’s a sock, Mal,” I said. “A plain white gym sock.” Luckily, there were no other marks on the sock. Mal had dug up socks before and it didn’t turn out so well for the person who lost the sock.

  I put Mal down and stepped away from the hole. Instead of moving on with me, Mal went back to the hole and started digging. This time she found more than a sock. She found a flesh-covered big toe. “Darn it,” I said, and pulled out my phone. I had Rex on speed dial and dialed him up.

  “This is Manning,” he said.

  “Rex? I found something—well, Mal found something and it looks like a human toe.”

  “Where are you?” he asked. I could hear worry in his voice.

  “I’m across the street from the school,” I said.

  “I’m headed out your way. Are you in danger?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, and glanced around. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone else out here.”

  “Stay on the phone with me,” he ordered.

  “Okay,” I said, and hugged my waist with my free arm and looked around. “There was a sock, but it only looks like this one toe is missing. Do you think it’s a copycat? Mal found toes in a sock previously.”

  “I won’t know until I see it,” Rex said. “I’m heading down Main. Can you see me yet?”

  “Not yet,” I said, and looked down the street. Usually Main was wall-to-wall tourists, but not today. It was mid-week and thankfully the streets were practically deserted. “Should I look and see if there are any other body parts?” I asked as I peered down the hole.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Rex said. “I signaled for dispatch to call Shane out there. Let’s let him and his fellow lab guys do any further digging.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I see you,” he said.

  I looked down the road and saw him approaching. He waved his hand and I waved back. I noticed he still had his shadow—Dirk Benjamin. I guess the man wasn’t put off by the dead body. The actor must be really into studying for his part. Mal barked and pulled sharply on her leash, tugging it out of my hand. “Mal!” I called after her. She ran straight to Rex and Dirk.

  Rex picked her up and brought her back to me. “Shane is on his way.”

  “Okay,” I said, and took Mal from him. “Bad doggy.” I doubt it did any good, but Mal was so smart it was hard to punish her.

  “Hey, Allie,” Dirk said, and shoved his hands in the back pockets of his already tight jeans. “Rex says you have more evidence.”

  “Mal discovered something under the bushes,” I said.

  “Is this where Mal was digging?” Rex asked, and peered into the depression.

  “Yes,” I said. “First she pulled out this gym sock.” I handed him the sock held between my forefinger and thumb to try to keep from contaminating it further. “I didn’t think anything of it until she went back in and dug up that.”

  I pointed to the dirty digit in the dirt.

  “Whoa—is that a toe?” Dirk asked. This time he seemed more curious than sick over the find.

  Rex hunkered down and pushed the digit with the back edge of his pen. “She didn’t put it in her mouth, did she?”

  “No,” I said. “She just dug in
the ground and then poked it with her nose so that I would see it.”

  “I don’t know anatomy well,” Rex said. “But it looks like a man’s big toe.”

  “I’d say it looks like a dude’s toe,” Dirk said. “Cool.”

  “I thought so too,” I said. “It’s kind of big and there isn’t any polish on it.”

  “I figure it probably belongs to Jack Sharpe,” Rex said. He dug the pen around the hole. “I’m not seeing any other parts.”

  “Dude, let’s hope that toe came from the dead guy and not someone else,” Dirk said as he hunkered down next to Rex to examine the find.

  “I don’t remember Jack missing any body parts,” I said with a frown.

  “He had on shoes when you found him,” Rex said, and stood. “The ME reported there was evidence he’d been redressed.”

  “So he was missing his toe?” Dirk asked.

  “I can’t confirm it yet,” Rex said. “Not until I have an official report.”

  “Right, so like the ME has to send his official report your way,” Dirk said with a grin. “Like in CSI—that’s a television show. Do you guys get that up here?”

  “We have cable television,” I said.

  “Most people are too busy enjoying the parks and outside recreation to watch a lot of television,” Rex said.

  “Whoa,” Dirk said. “Dude, we’re filming a television show. You guys are going to watch that, right?”

  “Sure,” I said when it looked like Dirk was going to panic. I patted his considerable bicep. “I’m sure there will be premiere parties and watch parties every night it’s on.”

  “Cool,” Dirk said, flashing a toothpaste grin.

  “Was he tortured?” I asked, turning back to Rex and the toe. “Did the killer cut off Jack’s toe to try to get him to tell a secret? Or as proof of life for a ransom?”

  “I don’t know,” Rex said. “We never heard anything about a ransom. I think whoever did this wanted you and Mal to find the toe. It’s too similar to another case you and Mal helped solve.”

  “Wait, you solved a case of a missing toe?” Dirk asked, his blue eyes wide.

  “There was a lot more than a toe in that case,” I said. “There was a wood chipper involved.”

  “Awesome!” he said, his grin spreading. “I’ll mention that one to the writers. Maybe they can do an episode with that.”

  “Trust me, it wasn’t that great,” Rex muttered.

  “So you think the toe is part of the chess game this guy thinks he’s playing?” I asked, and hugged Mal until she squeaked.

  “Is there a note anywhere?” Rex asked, and scanned the ground nearby.

  “I didn’t find one,” I said. “How would he know that Mal and I would walk out this way? I mean, we rarely go much farther than the alley or the police station.”

  “Maybe he’s stalking you,” Dirk suggested.

  “I’d notice if I was being stalked, wouldn’t I?” I asked Rex.

  “Yes, in most cases of stalking you would know. Look, this guy could have buried this toe long before he killed Jack and stuck him in your alleyway.”

  “Why would he have done that?” I asked.

  “There’s no telling,” Rex said.

  “Maybe he thought you’d find the toe first,” Dirk suggested.

  “You think he killed Jack and buried the toe here hoping I’d find it? And when I didn’t. . .”

  “He put the whole body where you were sure to come across it,” Rex said. “Maybe.”

  I shivered. “So he’s trying to get my attention?”

  “He or she,” Rex said. “We don’t know who yet.”

  “Huh, dude, I didn’t think of a woman killer,” Dirk said.

  “We don’t want to make any assumptions this early in an investigation,” Rex said.

  “Do you think a woman did this to Jack?” I asked.

  “That would have to be one cold, angry woman,” Dirk said. “I’ve known a few.”

  Rex sent Dirk a look. “I agree it’s most likely a male did this,” he said, and raised his hand in a stop motion. “But, we can’t rule anyone out at this point.”

  “Cool,” Dirk said. He shifted his pose for a moment and readjusted his expression. “We can’t rule anyone out at this point.” He repeated in a perfect imitation of Rex.

  “Wow,” I said, amazed.

  “Was that supposed to be me?” Rex asked.

  “No, no, dude,” Dirk said, and held up his hands with a short shrug. “I’m just practicing. You know? Warming up for the show.”

  “Here’s Shane,” Rex said, and waved Shane down. Shane was a tall, skinny man with geekish dark-rimmed glasses. He wore his usual uniform of navy blue with CRIME SCENE UNIT written in big white letters on his back.

  “Cool, the CSI dude,” Dirk said, and took a step closer to me and Mal. “I like watching this dude work.”

  “What do you have?” Shane asked. He looked from Rex to me and back to Rex. Shane knew me pretty well between the crimes I had solved and the fact that he dated Jenn.

  “Body part,” Rex said. “Mal dug it up but didn’t taste it.” He held up the sock. “She also dug this up but Allie touched it so we don’t know if it has any valid evidence or not.”

  “Why did you touch it?” Shane asked me as he hunkered down and opened his evidence kit. He gloved up and took the sock, carefully placing it in a bag.

  “Yeah,” Dirk said. “Even I know not to touch evidence.”

  “Mal kept digging at it,” I said in defense. “I didn’t think it had anything to do with a crime scene. We’re on the way to the beach. It could have been simply a lost sock.”

  “But it wasn’t,” Shane pointed out.

  “No, it wasn’t,” I said with a sigh. “With the toe, it’s part of a crime scene.”

  We watched in silence as Shane worked the scene. Rex grabbed a roll of yellow DO NOT ENTER tape from the crime scene kit and strung it up in a six-foot perimeter. I stayed just outside the tape and pulled Dirk over next to me. Foot traffic on the island was so light that Rex really didn’t need the tape. I think he wanted distance between his scene and the hunky actor. I wondered if Rex felt a little intimidated by Dirk’s Hollywood good looks. He shouldn’t have; Rex was handsome in a more masculine way. Besides, it was nice to talk to a man who didn’t use the word “dude” in every sentence.

  “I don’t see any other human remains,” Shane said after working for thirty minutes in the silence.

  “Wow, it really was only the toe,” Dirk said. “Creepy.”

  “Can I go?” I asked. “Mal and I need to get back to the McMurphy. We have visitors for the Butterfly House fund-raiser.”

  “Yes,” Rex said. “You and Mal are free to go.”

  “Great,” I said enthusiastically. “I get to go home wearing my clothes and shoes. Do you know how rare that is?”

  “Wait, what?” Dirk sent me a sly grin. “You usually walk away naked?”

  “Not naked,” I said, and blushed. “I usually have to go to the clinic and go through a crime scene exam. Jenn usually brings me a clean set of clothes. No, I don’t go anywhere naked.”

  “Too bad,” Dirk said with a naughty wink.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s rare for you to get to keep your clothes,” Rex said. “But it’s good to see you not having to go to the clinic.”

  “Shane might not be as happy as you about it,” I said teasingly.

  “Why not?” Rex asked.

  “He can’t see Jenn when she brings me the appropriate clothes.”

  “I’m seeing Jenn tonight,” Shane said. “We’re going to dinner.”

  “Oh, I thought she was busy with the fund-raiser,” I said. “People start coming in tonight for tomorrow morning’s open house at the Butterfly House.”

  “She has things well in hand,” Shane said, and stood. He pushed his glasses up on his nose for a second and studied me. “Did she say anything to you about leaving Mackinac?”

  “Yes,” I said, and d
rew my eyebrows together. “She said you two had an understanding.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and frowned. “I was kind of hoping she’d change her mind.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “There’s another message here,” Rex said.

  “Dude, like at the other crime scene?” Dirk asked, and ducked under the crime scene tape.

  “What? Where?” I asked, and Mal and I followed Dirk under the tape.

  Rex hunkered down and studied the trunk of the bush where Mal was digging. “Look under the branches.”

  Shane, Dirk, and I squatted and tried to look where Rex was looking. There on the base of the bush, carved into the trunk were the words “knight to f-6.”

  “What does it mean?” I asked.

  “It’s an opening move for black,” Shane said. He looked at me and then Rex. “There may be more than one toe buried on the island.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It’s an opening move with black’s knight,” Shane said. “He may have other lesser moves hidden for you to find.”

  “Dude!”

  “It means the killer is into chess,” Rex said as we all stood. “That’s all it means. It most likely has nothing to do with Allie.”

  “Except that we both know I’ve solved a body parts case before,” I pointed out. Then I turned to Shane. “The first note was written out to me. Do you think he’s waiting for me to make a move?”

  “Let’s not make any assumptions,” Rex said, and crossed his arms over his chest. “What we have is someone not in their right mind playing a game only they can comprehend.”

  “Do you think anyone is in danger?” I asked.

  “At this point everything is speculation.”

  “The thing to do is to figure out who this killer thinks your players are,” Dirk suggested. “The winner of chess kills the opponent’s king, right? So if they are playing chess, then you must be the king.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly.

  “If you are the king, then you need to protect your queen,” Dirk said. “Any idea who your queen is?”

  “Jenn,” I said, and felt a frisson of fear run down my spine. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Jenn’s number.