Forever Fudge

by Nancy CoCo

  “It could be,” Paige said.

  “If not, the crew should know where to find Jeffery,” Mrs. Jessop said.

  “Yes,” I said. “Let’s go down to the docks.”

  “Let’s stop by the McMurphy and drop off Mal,” I said. “I don’t want to drag her to the docks.”

  We hurried down toward Main Street, passing the police station and the alleys where we thought Trent might have been taken. I took a moment to look down each alley that we passed in the off chance there was something we missed. Then we dropped Mal off at the McMurphy and headed toward the docks.

  The area was bustling, but that was not new. Even on the slowest days the docks teamed with activity. It was one of two spots where freight and people were brought on and off the island. The crew was a third of the size that it was the last time I saw them. They seemed to be talking about staging and setting up and tearing down equipment.

  “Troy,” Paige called the director as we approached.

  “Paige, how are you today?” he asked as he came flying over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’ve been better,” Paige said.

  “That’s right, I heard about your brother,” Troy said. “I’m sorry. Is there any news?”

  “Not really,” I said.

  “Troy, you remember Allie,” Paige said.

  “Yes, of course, the girlfriend and muse for my starlet.” He came over and gave me a short hug. “Who’s this?” he asked as he addressed Mrs. Jessop.

  “This is my mother,” Paige said. “Mom, Troy is the director.”

  “Nice to meet you, young man,” Mrs. Jessop said. “I hope you are giving us our money’s worth in exposure.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod. “We are doing all but the dock shots at a Jessop property.”

  “Good.”

  “Can I ask something?” I said. “Why isn’t Dirk shooting today?”

  “Oh, this is a tear down and set up day,” Troy said. “Dirk will be coming in later tonight to do some night work and then we’ll work here all day tomorrow.”

  “Have you talked to Dirk lately?” Jenn asked as she stepped forward.

  “Hello,” Troy said, and took her hand and kissed it. “And you are?”

  “Jenn Christensen,” she said with a blush. “Allie’s and Paige’s friend.”

  “She works with me at the McMurphy,” I explained. “When was the last time you saw Dirk?”

  “I saw him last night,” Troy said. “I left him at the Nag’s Head Bar. He was pretty much in his cups. I figured he’d spend today sleeping it off or doing more research with your police detective. Why?”

  “We just discovered him tied to a chair in the basement of an abandoned building,” Mrs. Jessop said.

  “Excuse me?” Troy looked shocked and distressed. “What are you saying?”

  “Someone tried to kidnap your star,” I said. “We were looking for Trent when we found him.”

  Troy cursed under his breath. “Is Dirk okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We think so. They were taking him to the clinic to check for dehydration.”

  “Alice!” Troy called over a tall thin blonde.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Who is in charge of Dirk today?”

  “That would be Simon, sir,” Alice said.

  “Simon!”

  “Yes, sir.” A young man came barreling around the building.

  “Are you in charge of Dirk today?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Last night, sir, why?”

  “It seems our star was kidnapped.” Troy pulled on his hair until it stood up on end. “When were we going to find out? When shooting started and you couldn’t find him? What am I paying you for?”

  “To take care of Mr. Benjamin,” Simon said. He was pale as a ghost. “I thought he was sleeping it off, sir. Really.”

  “Where is Dirk now?” Troy asked us.

  “They took him to the clinic,” I said.

  “Get down to the clinic and make sure our leading man is okay,” Troy ordered.

  “Yes, sir,” Simon said.

  “You are darn lucky nothing happened to him,” Troy said. “You would never work in this business again.”

  “Yes, sir,” Simon said, and took off running.

  “Was there a note?” Jenn asked.

  “A note?” Troy asked.

  “Yes,” Paige said. “When they took Trent, they left a note for Allie.”

  “Alice,” Troy called.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did we get a note or message?”

  “Mail just came, sir.” Alice came over bringing a stack of letters. She handed them to him. “I’ll get you some more coffee.”

  Troy went through the letters. “Junk, junk, junk . . . wait. This one is made out to Allie McMurphy.” He held it out.

  “That’s me,” I said. I took the envelope and opened it carefully. Inside was a single piece of paper.

  “What does it say?” Paige asked.

  I pulled the letter out and looked at it. It was typed neatly. “How many more need to die? I thought you were better at this. F1 g3 Now Byrne is hopelessly entangled in Fischer’s mating net.”

  “What does it mean?” Jenn asked.

  “I think it means the killer is closing in on me.”

  “Does it say anything about Trent?” Mrs. Jessop pulled the paper from my fingers.

  “Not that I can tell,” I said with a grim sigh.

  “Have you seen Jeffery Jenas today?” Jenn asked Troy.

  “Jeffery? He’s back at his room putting the finishing touches on the last two episodes. Why? Was he kidnapped, too?”

  “We suspect he might be involved in the murders,” I said.

  “Jeffery? Our Jeffery? No way. The dude is dark yes, but he’s a writer. If they are going to mess with anyone’s head they do it in writing. You know?”

  “Thank you for the information,” Jenn said. She put her arm through mine. “Come on, ladies, we have a meeting with a writer.”

  We left the crew to their shoot setup and walked down Main Street four across with our arms interlocked. We didn’t have to talk; we all knew where we were headed—to Mrs. O’Connor’s boardinghouse.

  It didn’t take long to walk the half mile or so to Mission Point and the white boardinghouse with black shutters. Mrs. Jessop charged ahead. She knocked on the door, tapping her foot. She knocked again and Mrs. O’Connor opened the door. “Yes? Oh, Mrs. Jessop. What can I do for you?”

  “We need to speak to your boarder. The writer,” Mrs. Jessop said in a clear, crisp tone.

  “You mean Jeffery?” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I’m afraid he’s out.”

  “How long has he been out?” I asked.

  She frowned, drawing her eyebrows down and pursing her lips. “He left shortly after breakfast. For his daily walk, you know.”

  “When do you expect him back?” Mrs. Jessop asked. She glanced at her watch. “It is late afternoon.”

  “He is out longer than usual,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “He usually comes back for lunch and works for a few hours before his night walk.”

  “Do you know where he goes when he goes for these walks?” I asked.

  “Not really,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “I never really thought about it. I figured he was going to a coffee shop or wandering the woods for ideas.”

  “Does he ever do anything suspicious?” Jenn asked.

  “What do you mean ‘suspicious’?” she asked. Then she studied us a moment. “Why don’t you ladies come inside.”

  We all stepped into the wide living room of the boardinghouse. The living room had several chairs, a couch, and an assortment of small tables covered with doilies. There was a fire in the fireplace. The living area opened to a large dining room with a sideboard. Mrs. O’Connor disappeared into the kitchen. I stood and looked at the pictures on the walls. They were all original oil paintings.

  “
My sister painted those,” Mrs. O’Connor said.

  I turned to see her walk into the living room with a tray full of cups and saucers and a pot of tea. “She is quite talented.”

  “Was,” Mrs. O’Connor said. She sat and poured the tea distributing cups to all of us. “Now tell me what all this worry about Mr. Jenas is all about.”

  “My son, Trent, is missing,” Mrs. Jessop said. Her hands shook slightly as she lifted the cup of tea to her mouth.

  “I heard about that,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “Terrible thing that. Do you think that Mr. Jenas had anything to do with that?”

  “We went out investigating,” I said. “We discovered Dirk Benjamin in the basement of an abandoned building tied to a chair. The building was owned by the Jenases. We wondered if Jeffery was related to anyone on the island.”

  “You think Jeffery has something to do with all this?” Her eyes grew round with concern. “Surely not.” She put her cup down in the saucer in her lap. “You think I might have a killer living under my roof ?”

  “Whoever is doing this has to have some connection to the island,” I said. “They seem to know about every case I’ve helped solve this season.”

  “And you think it is Mr. Jenas because he’s been here since May first?”

  “It could be,” I said. “It does seem to be more than a coincidence that his last name is Jenas and Dirk was found in the basement of a building owned by Jenases.”

  “Well,” Mrs. O’Connor said back, and put her hand on her throat. “This is most distressing. I . . . I don’t know what to think.”

  “Does Mr. Jenas ever talk about playing chess?” Jenn asked. “Or maybe he followed Bobby Fischer, the chess master?”

  “Why, he wrote a biography of Mr. Fischer,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “It did quite well from what I understand.”

  “We need to tell Rex,” I said, and got out my phone.

  “Why does his book about Mr. Fischer matter?”

  “The killer has been leaving me clues about an old game of chess played by Bobby Fischer.”

  “Oh dear, that does sound suspicious. What can the police do?” Mrs. O’Connor asked.

  “Keep an eye out for Mr. Jenas,” I said.

  “Am I safe if he comes back here?” she asked, her face suddenly pale.

  “I think so,” Jenn said, and patted Mrs. O’Connor’s back. “The killer has been only harming men.”

  “Who would have thought. A killer in my home.” She hugged herself. “Terrible.”

  “We’ll stay with you until the police come,” Jenn said.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. Time was running out for Trent.

  Chapter 27

  “We’ve got everyone we can spare looking for Trent and Jeffery Jenas,” Rex said later that evening. “I need you ladies to stay safely at the McMurphy.”

  “You don’t have that many resources,” Mrs. Jessop said as she sat on the settee in the lobby. “You need us out looking. I know you have a man at Mrs. O’Connor’s. You have to have at least two on duty at the station. That only leaves two to search the island. My son only has a few hours left.”

  “That is if the killer is to be believed,” Rex said.

  “How can we not believe a man who has killed twice already? Why, if we hadn’t gone looking earlier today Mr. Benjamin could have been the next victim,” Paige said.

  “I understand that you are feeling helpless at the moment,” Rex said, his tone calm. “You have every right to worry, but if you leave here I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “I’ll call my property manager,” Mrs. Jessop said. “He can escort us.”

  “Please give us more time,” Rex said.

  “There isn’t any time left,” Paige said.

  I pulled Rex away from the group. “What did Shane find at the Jenases’ basement? Was there any proof that Trent had been down there?”

  “No,” Rex said. “There was blood at the scene but we won’t have lab tests for a few weeks. We can’t take a sample and confirm the blood belongs to Trent without any samples from Trent. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “How did they take Dirk?”

  Rex’s mouth went into a flat line. “He says he stepped out of the Grand Hotel and heard a scream. He went to investigate and the next thing he knew he woke up in the basement tied to the chair.”

  “Does he know who took him?”

  “He said he never got a look at the guy, but he has to be pretty big to haul Dirk down those basement stairs.”

  “Maybe there were two men,” I suggested. “I mean, it has to be difficult for one man to haul these dead bodies around.”

  “It’s a possibility,” Rex said. “We’ve been looking into it.”

  “Someone is working with Jeffery Jenas,” I stated. “Do you know who?”

  “I don’t know for sure it is Jenas,” Rex said. He ran his hand over his head “I need proof, Allie.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Let me talk to Dirk.”

  “He went back to his hotel. I think his director has people staying with him.”

  “There was a note for me in the mail on set,” I said. I pulled out the letter. “Whoever is doing this expected me to go looking for Dirk. I think this is where he made a mistake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, so far the killer has been copying murders I solved and picking on the things I love—the McMurphy, Mal, and Trent.”

  “You love Trent?” he asked, his face strangely composed.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Do I?”

  I yanked at my hair. “You know as much as I do.”

  “Let’s go back to your point.”

  “My point is that I don’t have any reason to care about Dirk.”

  “Maybe they read that story in the tabloids where you went on a date with Dirk.”

  “I think they are getting desperate. They want me to figure out who they are and they are reaching for straws. It might be a sign that they are cracking.”

  “What do you think talking to Dirk will do?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”

  “Allie, Trent could already be—”

  I put my finger on his mouth to not hear the word that was about to come out. “Don’t say it out loud.”

  “Allie . . .”

  Tears filled my eyes. “It’s Trent.”

  “You still care for him.”

  I swallowed my tears and dashed the wetness from my eyes.

  “Come on, then. I’ll walk you over to the Grand.”

  “I’ll get my jacket.” Mal followed me to the hooks and begged to go for a walk with me. “I’m sorry, baby, but you need to stay and keep Jenn and Paige company. Okay?” I patted her head and put on my jacket. “I’ll be back soon,” I said to the group.

  “I’ve called my manager,” Mrs. Jessop said. “I’m going out with him to look for Trent.”

  “I can’t keep you safe,” Rex said.

  “We’ll take our chances.”

  Rex escorted me out of the McMurphy. The sun had set and Main Street was cool and quiet. The island was usually quiet after the tourists left for the day. But the off-season made the place feel positively cozy. The walk to the Grand was about a half mile. We walked in comfortable silence.

  “I’m sorry about Trent,” he said.

  “I’ve got to find him,” I said, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I can’t live with the idea that this might be my fault.”

  “Stop right there,” Rex said, and stopped me in my tracks. “None of this is your fault. It’s the fault of the man or men who are committing the crime.”

  “I just . . . What if it’s too late?” I shivered and tears rolled down my cheeks. “It feels too late.”

  Rex grabbed me and hugged me hard against his chest. “We’ll deal with that when it happens. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, and wiped my face. “Come on, time’s ticking.”

  “Do you really thi
nk Dirk can help?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  The Grand Hotel was quiet. There was a receptionist at the desk and a bellhop at the door.

  “Hello, Officer Manning,” the receptionist said as she came out from behind the desk. “What can we do for you this evening?”

  “We’d like to talk to Dirk Benjamin,” Rex said. “I know his room number.”

  “Would you like me to call and let him know you are coming? I understand he has had quite the day and is recovering.”

  “Is Simon with him?” I asked.

  Rex and the receptionist looked at me with surprise. “Simon?”

  “Simon is Dirk’s handler for today. I went to see the director, Troy, and let him know that Dirk was missing.”

  “I see,” Rex said.

  “Yes, I believe there is a Simon Green with Mr. Benjamin,” the receptionist said.

  Rex turned to her and raised an eyebrow.

  The receptionist shrugged. “We keep a careful eye on our special guests.”

  “Did you see Mr. Benjamin leave this morning?”

  “Yes,” she said, and went back to her books. “He left at six a.m. this morning. We pay attention so that we can go in and straighten up the room right away.”

  “Do you know where he was going at six a.m.?”

  “He went out wearing workout gear,” she said. “I’d assume he went for a jog.”

  I looked at Rex. “Was Dirk wearing workout clothes when we found him?”

  Rex frowned. “T-shirt and jeans,” he said. He turned to the clerk. “Does he do that often? Go out jogging?”

  “Most mornings, yes,” she said. “Unless he has someone with him.”

  “Do you keep track of all of Mr. Benjamin’s visitors?”

  “Yes,” she said. “We are discreet, but yes, we log all of his visitors so that we know who is supposed to see him and who we need to keep off of his floor.”

  “Interesting,” Rex said.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “Somewhere along the way, Dirk Benjamin came into contact with our killer.”

  “Oh,” I said, and felt my eyes go wide. “Perhaps the killer is in his visitor log.”

  “Can I see his records?” Rex asked.

  “Only if I have Mr. Benjamin’s permission,” she said.

  “Or I get a warrant,” Rex said, and crossed his arms across his chest.