by Nancy CoCo
“It’s all fake,” I said, and put a kettle on. “You know what? I’d rather be real, wrinkles and all.” I pulled a blue mug down from the shelf and popped a tea bag inside.
“Well, darn,” Jenn said, and sat down hard on the bar stool. She put her chin in her hand. “I was hoping you would start dating Dirk.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I might have thought it would be cool to tell people in Chicago that I was best friends with Dirk’s girlfriend.”
I patted her arm and poured the boiling water into my teacup. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
She brightened. “No worries, I can still tell everyone I met Dirk and am best friends with a friend of his.”
I passed her the tea mug and got a second mug down, pouring a new cup of tea for myself. “Now, that is the Jenn I know and love. Tell me, how is the fund-raiser going?”
“It was a complete success,” Jenn said and we walked into the living area and sat down on comfy chairs. Jenn wore yoga pants and an oversize T-shirt. “We raised over twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of money,” I said. “Tori will be so happy.”
“The Butterfly House is going to expand,” Jenn said. “This was such a success that they are going to consider doing it again in two years.”
“Not next year?”
“They don’t want to cause funding burnout.”
“Makes sense,” I said. I tucked my feet up under me. “So I have you all to myself for a while longer?”
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” Jenn said, and blew over the top of her tea to cool it. “I’d like to stay another week. That way you are covered while Frances is gone and then I’ll help cover the first week she is back in case they decide to vacation longer.”
“Thank you,” I said, and tilted my head. “What does Shane think?”
“He’s a bit miffed right now,” she said, and sipped her tea. “I’m kind of hoping an extra week or two will calm him down. He’ll see that just because there is a lake between us doesn’t mean we can’t continue our relationship. I really think he’ll like Chicago.”
I shook my head. “It’s harder than you think,” I said. “It’s part of the reason I broke up with Trent. Long distance is just no fun.”
“I know,” she said, her eyes welling with tears. “But I have to believe it will work. This Chicago job is a once in a lifetime deal. If I don’t go and do this, I will always wonder what if.”
I put down my teacup, reached over, and hugged her. “I’m sorry. I support you.” I looked her in the eyes. “You know how great you are, don’t you? Shane would be a fool not to know that.”
She sniffed and reached over to grab a tissue. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she fumbled her teacup. “I’m going to miss you,” she said. Mal put her front paws on Jenn’s lap. Jenn laughed and rubbed the pup’s ears. “Yes, I’m going to miss you, too.”
“Mal and I want you to stay,” I said. “But we also understand why you must go. Just know that you will always be welcome here.”
“I’m not going anywhere for another week,” she said. “So, no more crying tonight. Tell me about the writer. Was it a gorgeous woman? A handsome man?”
“A rather slouchy, rude man who drank a lot and talked with his mouth full,” I said, and picked up my teacup to sip some more. “His name is Jeffery Jenas and apparently, he has been renting a room in the Sigmunds’ cottage on Mission Point since May. You have a better ear to the community. Did you know that there was a writer staying at Mrs. O’Connor’s place?”
She pursed her lips and drew her eyebrows together. “I think I heard Mrs. Tunison say something about Mrs. O’Connor’s boarder. I thought it was some old dude. No one ever sees him out in public.”
“Apparently, he’s been writing the first half season of scripts,” I said. “That has to take a lot of work.”
“And I imagine a lot of staring out the window,” Jenn said with a smile. It was good to see her mood lighten.
“I felt bad because we hadn’t met,” I said. “But if you didn’t know him, then I feel much better.”
“What are you saying?” She played as if she was affronted.
“I’m saying you know everyone. It’s what I love about you, your ability to make friends so quickly.”
“Thank you,” Jenn said. “Tell me about this writer. Why did Dirk bring him to dinner?”
“He wanted me to give Jeffery ideas since I’ve solved a few murders.”
“What did this Jeffery think of this?”
“I don’t think he was too impressed,” I said, and shrugged. “Jeffery seemed to think I would be good at playing chess because I’ve outwitted murderers.”
“But you don’t play chess,” she pointed out.
“That’s what I told him. He was surprised.”
“Wait, doesn’t the killer want you to play chess with him?” Jenn asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Dirk put the moves the killer placed on the notes into his search engine and discovered they were moves from an old Bobby Fischer game.”
“Okay, that’s freaky,” Jenn said. “Are you going to the senior center tomorrow to take lessons?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m joining the chess club. I’ll stink at it, but it might help put me in the mind of the killer.”
“Did they ever determine if the chicken was a prank or a threat?” Jenn asked.
“Rex is leaning toward prank,” I said. “I’ve got to remember to get more outside cameras.”
“You should just go with a security system,” Jenn said. “That way they put up the equipment and they monitor everything. It should save you on insurance.”
“Papa Liam was so against a security company. He used to say it was against everything that Mackinac Island stands for. After all people come here to experience another place and time.”
“Well, that was your grandfather,” Jenn said, and got up and placed her teacup in the sink. “He was not a young woman running a business by herself.”
“I’ll look into it,” I said. “You’re right. Papa isn’t here anymore.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Jenn said, and came over to give me a hug. “I didn’t mean to dredge up your grief. I know it hasn’t been six months since he died.”
I hugged her back. “Sometimes it seems as if he died so long ago and yet it was only yesterday that I was talking to him on the phone. He was telling me what a great first season we were going to have and all the things we were going to do.” I sighed long and hard. “Sometimes when I sit in his chair I think of all the things that he could have helped me do this season.”
“But you did a wonderful job,” Jenn said. “You remodeled the McMurphy and you have increased occupancy and I happen to know that your fudge sales are up by a third over last year.”
“It’s been a lot of work,” I said. “But I think he would be proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
“Yes,” Jenn said. “He would be very proud.”
“Well, enough maudlin thoughts,” I said, and rose. “I’m going to bed. I’ve got fudge to make in the morning and chess lessons to take.”
“Good night, Allie,” Jenn said.
“Good night.” I picked up Mal and brought her into the bedroom with me. Mella liked to hang out in the living room. I usually cracked my bedroom door at night so she could come and go as she wished.
* * *
“Did you ever follow Bobby Fischer’s career?” I asked.
Sandy sat across from me in a corner of the senior center. She was currently kicking my behind at chess. We’d played three games and she was able to beat me in less than ten moves each time. The good news is that I seemed to be getting better with each game.
“The great Mr. Fischer?” she said, and studied the board. “Certainly, everyone followed him back in the day. The man was a master.”
“Do you remember the winning game against Donald Byrne?”
“October 17,
1956,” she said. “Yes, I do remember now. Why?”
“I did a search of the moves that the killer placed on the notes and it goes back to that game.”
“Interesting,” she said. Then she moved her queen. “Checkmate.”
“Darn it,” I said.
“If it helps, you are getting better. You need to look at least three moves out,” she said. “Try to anticipate my next move and what you will move and then my countermove.”
“That’s a lot of guessing,” I said.
“But you know me. I’ve worked with you almost the entire season,” she pointed out. “You should be able to predict how I think.”
“I’m not sure I can predict how I think let alone anyone else.”
“That’s not true,” she said, and reset the board. “You have figured out who killed who. You are cleverer than you realize.” She opened the game by moving her knight. “Now, go.”
I rested my cheek in my hand and studied the board. I realized that she had opened each game exactly the same. Instead of moving a pawn I mirrored her knight move.
She leaned in and studied the board. Then she moved a pawn two spaces. I mirrored her again. She looked up at me and then moved a second knight.
It was clear that my strategy was not going to work. I studied the board and mapped out the next three steps. I hoped to exploit her quick move. She frowned and moved her bishop. I moved again, abandoning my mirror strategy for a more aggressive approach. I took her pawn. Then I took her castle. Then I took another pawn.
She no longer watched me. Instead she watched the board. I felt the thrill of figuring out what she might do and how I would respond. I was pressing her. I got too cocky.
“Check,” she said.
I studied the board. To save my king I would have to give up my queen. I made the move.
“Checkmate,” she said.
“Darn,” I said.
“You’re getting better,” she said. “You—”
“Got too confident,” I said, and sat back.
“Yes,” she said. “Do you want to play again?”
“No,” I said with a sigh. “I have some work to do. Thank you for taking me on and teaching me.”
“Of course,” she said, and put the game away. “The rest of the club has gone on to lunch.” I looked around to see that they were indeed serving lunch in the other side of the senior center.
“Shall we do this again next week?”
“You should play that girl whenever you have a chance,” Mrs. Tunison said. “The only way to learn something right is to play the best.” She squeezed Sandy’s arm. “So good to see you back in the club. We’ve missed you.”
“I thought perhaps you were glad to be rid of me,” Sandy said.
“Well, it is nice to win once in a while,” Mrs. Tunison said. “But you have been missed.”
“I’ll be back next week,” Sandy said. She glanced at me. “I’ve got a sculpture to do.”
“The fudge shop kitchen is yours,” I said. “I got my Internet orders out this morning.”
“You have cut back production for the shop?”
“The last of the guests from the fund-raising event check out today. We will have a near empty building the next couple of nights. I do have a guest coming in on Monday but that’s it.”
“It will be good for things to slow down,” Sandy said. “There will be more time for you to plan for the winter and next season.”
“How are the winters on the island?” I asked. “Papa Liam used to close from November through May. I was considering staying open.”
“Most places close,” she said. “I think the Christmas holiday is becoming popular and you may have guests until the New Year. But most people won’t go through the bother of coming to Mackinac from January through April.”
“Is it because of the harsh weather or the isolation?”
“Yes.”
That answer took me aback. In his later years Papa Liam would winter in Florida. Maybe I needed to think about where I would go when the tourists all fled and the weather became too much to handle.
Chapter 14
“Allie! Allie McMurphy!” I turned to see a woman come out of the senior center.
“Yes?” I drew my eyebrows together.
She hurried to me. “Oh, goodness,” she said, and held her chest as she tried to get her breath back. “I was afraid I would miss you.”
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“It’s Mrs. O’Connor,” she said, and shook my hand. “I heard you had dinner with that handsome boy, Dirk Benjamin.”
“I did,” I said.
“And my boarder, Jeffery,” she continued as she inhaled deeply and blew it out. “Sorry, it’s hard to catch my breath.”
“I understand that Mr. Jenas has been renting a room from you since May,” I said. “I’m surprised I hadn’t heard about him or the mystery show before this week.”
“Oh, it was all hush, hush,” she said. “They made me sign an agreement not to say a word. It was difficult at times. Especially after I found out that Jeffery was carefully following your exploits.” She paused and looked around, then leaned in to me. “For a while I thought perhaps he was stalking you. But that can’t be, can it?”
“Certainly not,” I said, and patted her hand reassuringly. “I’ve never met him before last night. I don’t have any idea why he would want to stalk me.”
“He’s a writer,” she said. “You never know what they are thinking, especially ones who write mysteries.”
I smiled. “I’m sorry we haven’t met before.” The older woman was about five foot four and stocky. Her hair was gray and curled tight around her head. Today she wore denim dress pants and a short-sleeve button-up shirt in a cherry pattern.
“Oh, well, I’ve been quite busy, you know. I have been standing in as head baker at my grandson’s bakery.”
“His bakery? Which one?”
“There is only one good bakery on Mackinac Island,” Mrs. O’Connor said, and lifted her chin in pride. “Todd’s Cakery. Todd is my grandson. I taught him everything he knows.”
“Is that on Market Street?” I asked.
“Yes, the very one,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “Have you tried the blueberry scones? It’s my award-winning recipe.”
“I’ll have to check them out,” I said.
“You should do that.”
“If you’ve been working in the bakery, then perhaps you’ve met my best friend, Jenn Christensen. She has been acting as my assistant manager and event planner this season.”
“Oh, yes, the pretty one with the great head for planning. She came in several times this season picking up treats for meetings or ordering cakes and such for events.”
“Has your grandson ever ordered chocolate sculptures from Sandy Everheart? She is very good at the art. I bet there are many things she could do with cake toppers.”
“I’ll be sure and let him know,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “But you know what I really wanted to do was flag you down and ask you to get a cup of coffee sometime. I feel as if we are practically family, what with Jeffery watching your sleuthing so closely.”
“I would like that,” I said, and stopped as a thought occurred to me. “Did Mr. Jenas know Mr. Sharpe?”
“The dead man?” She wrung her hands. “No, I don’t think so. Jeffery spends a lot of time in his room.” She frowned. “Except when he’s out walking.”
“Walking?”
“He goes for long walks twice a day. I thought he was walking the path around the outside of the island.” She frowned. “But I never really paid that close attention to where he was going. I suppose he could have been into fishing like Mr. Sharpe. Why? Is Jeffery a suspect?”
“I can’t say,” I said.
“What makes you ask?” She raised a gray eyebrow. “Is he a chess player?”
“You know, I don’t really know. What I do know is he asked me if I was a chess player.”
“Really?”
/> “Yes, he seemed surprised when I said no. I found that a little weird. I mean, who imagines they know someone well enough to guess what kind of board games they like to play?”
“Maybe he was thinking about all your successful sleuthing.”
“Then wouldn’t he have asked if I was good at the game Clue?” I shook my head. “Or maybe think I like to watch mystery shows on television. Why think I know chess?”
“Well, the man is a mystery. Why, the most I can get out of him is a hello and a good-bye with an occasional, ‘Mrs. O’Connor, where do you keep the spare towels?’”
I laughed at that. “Perhaps he uses all his words when he’s writing.”
She laughed at that. “You are a lot of fun, Allie. I’m sorry it has taken this long to be introduced.”
We turned onto Main Street just a block from the hotel. The crowds were thinner than during the season, but that didn’t mean things weren’t still hopping.
“Allie!” I looked up to see Trent calling my name.
“Oh, your handsome boyfriend wants you,” she said, and winked at me. “I don’t know how you juggle two good-looking men.”
“Dirk is just a friend,” I reassured her. “Please call me at the McMurphy when you want to set a time for coffee. Okay?”
“I certainly will,” she said. “It was nice to meet you. Stay safe. There’s a killer on the loose, you know.”
“I will.” I waited for Trent to get closer and watched Mrs. O’Connor hurry up the right side of the street. I assumed she was going up to Market Street to the bakery. I was pretty sure her home on Mission Point was in the other direction.
“I heard you were at the senior center,” Trent said, and walked up to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I brought you flowers.” He pulled his arm around from behind his back and showed me a bouquet of flowers.
“They are lovely,” I said, and took them and smelled them. “I thought you were heading back to Chicago.”
“I had a couple of free days so I thought we could spend some time together.”
“How’s Paige?” I asked. “We had coffee the other day. She told me about your father retiring.”
“She’s fine,” he said. “The stables are keeping her busy.” He flashed his gorgeous smile. I swear the man practiced in front of a mirror until he perfected the toothpaste smile.
