Itsy-Bitsy Murder (Chocolate Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Wendy Meadows

  “I’ve got plenty more,” her assistant said. “I haven’t told anyone because I didn’t want you to force me to take time off work, but my great aunt passed a few months ago. We were very close, and she was very wealthy. She left me the bulk of her estate.”

  “My, my,” Alberta said. “I want my twenty dollars back, young lady.”

  The As burst out laughing, but Olivia couldn’t join in. She stared at the contents of the case—a new notepad and pen, even one of those old-time magnifying glasses.

  This case screamed responsibility. Could she really invest in solving this case? Sure, her business had boomed since the Fall Festival, but what if she messed this up and—

  “Olivia,” Alvira said, “we believe you can do this and that you should do this.”

  “Why?” Olivia asked. “Why me?”

  Alberta grasped Olivia’s forearm. “Because if you don’t do it, no one else will.”

  Chapter Nine

  Olivia strolled down the linoleum floors in the Chester General Hospital and focused on the task at hand. She’d come to see Jana, and that was it. It had nothing to do with the investigation; it was just common courtesy.

  Olivia halted in front of the reception desk and adjusted her grip on the bouquet she’d brought with her—a selection of pale purple mistflowers that swayed to the beat of her every step.

  The receptionist glanced up from her computer. “Morning,” she said. The phone rang on the desk, a harsh tone that made the woman grimace.

  The woman returned to her work on the computer, clicked a button, then grabbed the telephone receiver. “Just a second, please.” She pressed the phone to her ear. “Chester General Hospital, how may I help you?”

  Olivia chewed her bottom lip and averted her gaze. A couple of nurses rushed by. A doctor passed in the other direction, his gaze glued to the folder in his hands. Fluorescent lights brightened the white of his coat.

  “No, we don’t serve a gourmet option here, Mr. Tulip,” the receptionist said, in long-suffering tones. “I know you’d prefer that for your wife, but that’s not possible. We’ve spoken about this at length.”

  Olivia tried to tune out the chatter. An intercom sounded overhead, and a muffled voice called through it. Memories rushed back from an earlier time.

  She’d always despised hospitals. Sebastian had contracted meningitis in kindergarten, and those hours spent in the hospital, worrying over his health, had set up the kind of muscle memory that made her itch from the inside out.

  “Ma’am?” The receptionist called.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry,” Olivia replied, turning back to her. “I’m here to see Jana Jujube. Could you tell me which room she’s in?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but visiting hours have just ended. Miss Jujube is under strict surveillance, as well, so we limit her visitations to immediate family.” The receptionist’s gaze dropped to the flowers. “I am sorry.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, I guess,” Olivia said. “Is there any way these can be delivered to her?”

  “I’ll take them,” a woman behind her said.

  Olivia turned, then did a double-take.

  Jessica Jujube met her gaze, cold as a frosted blueberry truffle on a winter’s morning. “What’s the matter? Didn’t expect to get caught snooping?”

  The receptionist coughed and returned to her work.

  Olivia stepped toward Jana’s sister and ignored the guilt that crept through her mind. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t come to snoop, only to pay Jana a visit.

  “At least you brought flowers,” Jessica said and brushed imaginary lint off her purple pantsuit. It was the exact same shade as the mistflowers in the bouquet.

  “I came to check on Jana,” Olivia replied. “I’m not looking for any trouble.”

  “Then why are you here?” Jessica walked off a short way and sat down on one of the chairs in the reception area. She crossed her legs and flicked her foot up and down.

  “I just told you why. Jana is my friend.”

  “Oh, please,” Jessica said. “I know my sister well enough to know that she’d never be friends with someone like you. Jana has a free spirit.” She uttered the last two words in a bitter tone.

  Olivia sighed. “I understand this must be a difficult time for you, Ms. Jujube. She’s your sister, and she’s in the hospital. I once—”

  “I don’t care about your story,” Jessica replied and waved it away. “I want you to stay away from my sister. Stay away from me. Stay away from my Cuddle Clinic.”

  “Your Cuddle Clinic? It’s Jana’s business.”

  “That’s what you think,” the woman said, and a tight smile stretched her lips.

  “Jana owns that business until she passes on.” Olivia folded her arms, and the flowers brushed her elbow.

  Why did it matter who owned the clinic? Gosh, she’d been determined to put this investigating deal behind her, and here she was again, right in the thick of it. Jessica Jujube set off all the wrong alarm bells. She wanted to run the Cuddle Clinic without Jana’s assistance, and now she claimed it was her business.

  Jessica rose from her seat and pressed her face toward Olivia’s. Her dark hair curled around her shoulders, and her liquid, brown eyes sharpened to points of anger. “Jana signed a contract that states if anything were to happen to her, I’d be in charge. So, if you think you’re going to get me in trouble for running the business, you’re sorely mistaken.”

  The woman had just implicated herself. Jessica Jujube officially had a motive to harm her sister. And with the angry emails to corroborate her evidence, it didn’t look good.

  “Why did you come to Chester?” Olivia asked.

  Jessica blinked and stepped back. Her high heels scraped along the linoleum; they were the same shade of purple as her suit and the flowers. She let out ragged breaths, raw as cocoa powder in a steel bowl. “None of your business.”

  “Was it to take over her business?” Olivia asked. “Was it because you wanted to control some part of her life? Why are you here, Jessica? Why would you come to this tiny corner of the country?”

  “If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll call the police,” Jessica hissed. She knocked the flowers from Olivia’s hand, and they tumbled to the linoleum. The bouquet scattered, and purple flowers hopped across the floor.

  Jessica spun on her heel and charged down the hall, crushing one of the mistflowers under her sharp kitten heel.

  Olivia Cloud wiggled her lips to the left and then to the right. She bent and picked up the flowers, one by one, and their thin, green stalks tickled her fingers. She brushed the crushed petals across her palm and looked down the long hall that led to the glass doors at the exit.

  “Who are you really, Jessica Jujube?” she whispered. “I think it’s about time I found out.”

  Chapter Ten

  Olivia tucked her legs under herself and kneeled in the center of her bed. Dusk stretched long fingers through her window and caressed her wooden floor. The purple haze—purple again, for heaven’s sake—tiptoed across the sleeping lump that was Dodger and up the dark slats of her dressing table. It touched the cover of her favorite book, Eat, Pray, Love, and rested there.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Olivia hunched over her laptop and squinted at the glare from the screen. “Oh goodness,” she muttered, then reached over and clicked on her bedside lamp.

  Butter-yellow light chased out the purple.

  “Much better,” she muttered. She adjusted her newest set of reading glasses. Dodger had chewed up her old ones, the naughty boy.

  Olivia Cloud wouldn’t take Jessica’s accusations lightly. The woman had something to hide, and she’d find out what it was, by hook or by crook. Okay, maybe not by crook.

  Olivia’s finger twitched over the keys. She typed Jessica Jujube’s name into the Google search bar and pressed Enter.

  If she’d take on the case, she’d go for it head-on. No more of this wandering and taking long walks. It was time to focus.


  The results tracked down the page. Olivia rearranged her legs and dragged the laptop closer.

  She nudged her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Jessica Jujube,” she said out loud.

  Dodger jerked upright and cocked his head to one side. His left ear flopped up and then down.

  “Well, well, well, would you look at this?” Olivia said. “Dodger, she’s bankrupt.”

  Her doggy pal whined and turned his head the other way instead. He blinked up at her, languid as always.

  “Listen to this,” she said. “‘Jessica Jujube, famed lawyer, files for bankruptcy after a malpractice case is lodged against her.’ Ain’t that a headline and a half.” She pressed her lips together, then let them pop apart. “Goodness, she’s been in a lot of trouble.”

  Dodger plopped his head back on his paws but kept his gaze on her.

  “Well, I think it’s interesting,” she said and scrolled down the report. “She clearly had motive to come to Chester and get in touch with her sister, who was the successful one. I mean, they’re really ripping into her here.” Olivia gasped.

  Dodger jerked upright again and whined at her for scaring him.

  “She’s not allowed to practice law in the state of New York anymore. Oh my goodness, that had to be quite a blow.”

  A knock rat-tatted against her door and Dodger barked once.

  “Come in,” Olivia called.

  The brass doorknob turned, and Alphonsine entered the room. “Olivia,” she said, “I was downstairs, and a cop come to speak to you.”

  “A police officer?” Olivia asked and put her laptop aside.

  “Oui. Detective Keene,” Alphonsine replied, then grimaced. “Downstairs.” She pointed down the hall, then licked her lips and brushed her fingers through her hair.

  Olivia rose from her bed and slipped on her flat-soled pumps. “Thanks, Alph, I’ll check it out.”

  Dodger padded to his paws and hopped up and down. He barked again, but Olivia merely patted him between his fluffy ears. “You stay here, cutie. I’ll go face the big bad detective.”

  Olivia followed Alphonsine out the door and down the hall. She turned right and traipsed down the stairs. What on earth would Detective Keene want with her?

  She had an alibi, and she’d never set foot in Jana Jujube’s home.

  Olivia opened the gate at the bottom of the stairs and shut it behind her. And there he was. Detective Keene in all his glory sat at one of the center tables in Olivia’s store. He balanced his police hat on one of his knees and his right palm on the other.

  “Don’t get up for me, please,” Olivia said, barely managing to keep the sarcasm from her tone. Clearly, the rude detective had no plans to stand for her.

  “Miss Cloud. Have a seat, please,” Keene said, and gestured to the chair opposite his.

  Her chair. In her store. Had he actually just invited her to sit in her own chocolate shop?

  Olivia buried her irritation and hurried forward. She slipped into the seat and eased back against the hard back of the chair. “How may I help you, Detective? I’m afraid you’re a bit late if you’re looking for chocolates.” She tapped the face of her silver watch and forced a smile.

  “No, I haven’t come for candy.”

  Olivia truly despised it when people called chocolates by that name. They weren’t candy. They were little drops of delight, straight from heaven above, and they took a long time to make.

  Candy, well, that was more like a bag of Skittles or something.

  “Then why have you come?” Olivia asked and crossed her ankles for the comfort. She tugged at the sleeves of her sweater and straightened them. “I assume it’s not to deliver good news.”

  “I’ve come to warn you to stay out of my investigation,” the detective replied.

  Not this again. He’d asked her this before, the last time, and ended up thanking her for her help with the Lizzy Couture case. “I’m not doing anything illegal,” Olivia replied.

  “If you investigate, you are. I can’t trust any of the evidence I pick up if I know you’ve been walking across crime scenes and tampering with it,” Keene replied and popped the top of his hat with his knuckles.

  “Crime scenes? Multiple crime scenes?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the detective said. “You know what I mean, Miss Cloud. I’m not impressed with what I’m hearing.”

  “What?” Olivia shook her head. “What have you heard about me?”

  Dodger barked upstairs. He despised it when Olivia got upset.

  “I got a very angry call from the victim’s sister this afternoon. She said you harassed her in the hospital and asked her a series of very inappropriate questions,” Detective Keene said. “I can’t have you upsetting my witnesses.”

  Shouldn’t he have called Jessica a suspect? She had to be if the information Olivia had discovered was correct. “I wasn’t trying to upset her, Detective. In truth, she was kinda mean to me.”

  “Mean?”

  “Well, yeah. She insulted me and accused me of hanging around her sister for bad reasons. She knocked a bouquet of flowers out of my hand,” Olivia said.

  The detective rolled his eyes. He actually rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not here to discuss women’s squabbles.”

  “Pardon me?” Olivia glared at him.

  Keene loosened his collar and mauve appeared on his throat. A slow walk toward his cheeks. “Just stay out of this, Olivia,” he growled. “Stay as far away from this case as possible, or I will arrest you.”

  He launched himself out of his seat, rammed his hat on his head, and marched out of the store. The door banged shut behind him.

  Olivia grimaced. Boy, that’d gone well. But determination filled her, regardless. She was onto something, and she wouldn’t stop until she’d figured out what it was.

  Dodger barked again.

  “I’m fine, Dodgy,” she called up the stairs. “Calm your fur to a blur.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “We’re really going through with this?” Alvira whispered. Her breath misted in front of her face. “Are you sure?”

  Early morning cold stabbed at Olivia beneath the thick, woolen sweater she’d thrown on after breakfast. “I’m sure,” she replied. “Either way, we need to get out of this cold before I freeze my fingers off.”

  “And then we’d never have any amazing chocolates again. Tragedy,” Alvira said and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “I couldn’t live without the truffles. The drops. The sticky cherry delights.”

  “Stop. You’re making me hungry.” Olivia had barely enough time to down a cup of coffee before they’d rushed out the door on their way to Mission Impossible.

  “How do you know she won’t be there?” Alvira asked.

  “I don’t,” Olivia replied. “But I’ve got to get more information about her or the business or something.”

  Both women admired the new sign that hung above them. The Cuddle Clinic was about to get a total revamp, judging by the scaffolding propped against the side of the building in the alley.

  Olivia clapped her gloved hands together, exhaled a cloud of mist, and set off. “No use hanging around out here all day,” she said. “That won’t solve this mystery.”

  They hurried toward the front doors and peered inside. The closed sign hung flush against the glass, but the interior of the building glowed beneath the lights in the reception area.

  Arthur Pink sat behind his desk, his head in his hands; he stared at his computer screen. His pink cheeks shone in the glare.

  “He doesn’t look very happy,” Alvira whispered. “I wonder what happened?”

  “I think he has feelings for Jana,” Olivia replied, in hushed tones. She couldn’t summon up any sympathy for the fellow, not just yet. He might be Jana’s attacker, through some horrid twist of fate.

  Olivia licked her lips and raised her gloved fist, then dropped it again. “I want you to distract him, Alvira. Can you do that for me?”

  “Of cou
rse,” she replied. “I’ve got this. I’ll talk to him about chocolates or something.”

  “Oh boy, maybe this isn’t such a good idea, after all,” Olivia replied.

  “Whatever,” Alvira said and stuck out her tongue. “I can do this. Trust me, Olivia. I’ll help you.”

  Olivia nodded once, raised her fist and rapped it on the door.

  Arthur Pink jolted out of his seat and gave a tiny, girlish shriek. “Oh my goodness,” he said, then collapsed forward and braced himself on the desk with both palms. “I—oh my goodness.”

  “Sorry,” Olivia called through the glass. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “May we come in?” Alvira asked. “It’s f-freezing out here.” She rubbed her upper arms, which were ensconced in the sleeves of her thick, woolen coat.

  “I guess,” Pinkie replied. He hurried around the desk, strode up to the door and unlocked it. He opened it, and warm air gusted out of the Cuddle Clinic and drew them in.

  Olivia dusted her feet on the sidewalk and stepped into the clinic’s warm embrace. Alvira hurried in after her and shivered from head to toe.

  “Boy, it’s icier than ice out there,” she said.

  “Your analogies need some work,” Olivia replied, then winked at her assistant.

  “May I help you?” Pinkie asked and shut the door. “I—only, I’m not supposed to let anyone in here. We’re closed for the week. The new owner wants to do renovations to make the place fit her aesthetic.” His tone soured with each passing word.

  “The new owner?” So it was true then. Jana had signed over her business to Jessica, and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it.

  “Uh-huh,” he replied and folded his arms. He walked to the framed picture that hung on the wall and glared at the image of Jana Jujube in front of the clinic. “Guess Jana won’t be coming back, after all.”

  Olivia inched toward the desk and around to the other side, her footsteps muffled by the carpet.

  Alvira glanced at her boss and back at Pinkie. She hurried to his side and stood beside him, folded her arms and admired the picture, too. “She looked so happy here.”