With the water running in the sink, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. But when I asked her to repeat it as I dried my hands, the molecules in my body realigned. I thought of poor Izzy. “As much as I want publicity for my shop, there’s a big downside to all this attention. It’s stressful for everybody here in Fishers’ Harbor.”
“But you can’t wish it away. You’re going to have to deal with this for weeks to come.”
I thought about the diamonds Pauline and I had left in Jeremy Stone’s room. “Did they find anything yet?”
“Too early for me to know. And the sheriff isn’t going to divulge anything until he feels like it. But because Gil Oosterling is my client, I’ll of course stay vigilant and request anything that’s public record.”
My appreciation for this sharp slip of a young woman rose yet again. We headed back to the front just as Laura Rousseau surprised me by walking in with a huge box cradled in her arms. She was struggling to carry it because of her huge pregnancy bump and because Harbor kept leaping into the air to try to look in the box.
I introduced Laura to Harbor, and Destiny to the owner of the Luscious Ladle Bakery and Cooking School in Sister Bay. Cinnamon fragrance swirled around our heads, intoxicating us.
“Don’t tell me you brought cinnamon rolls?” I helped her set the big box down on the register counter and tucked away the thought of developing cinnamon-bun-flavored fudge.
“Made with wheat from Washington Island,” Laura said. Washington Island was off the northernmost tip of Door County. The wheat was famously used now in Wisconsin beers as well as baked goods. “We talked about doing an exchange to help cross-promote each other, so here I am. I’ll leave my rolls here for sale if you’ll give me Cinderella Pink Fudge for sale at my shop.”
“And maybe you can convince Al Johnson’s Restaurant to give out samples since you deliver bread to them.” I was feeling on top of things again. Grandma was right; I just had to commit to something. My fudge had to be my priority. And it was going to suffice for a relationship for now. Although it might please Grandma, I couldn’t encourage Sam. Besides, it was proven that eating chocolate increased brain activity and your heart rate more than passionate kissing did.
Laura agreed to the deal just as the back door banged. It was Isabelle again.
This time she was dressed in designer jeans and a V-necked, white cotton sweater. Her face had been scrubbed. She had a sheepish demeanor. Harbor seemed to sense something was amiss and lay down in a furry puddle in the middle of the floor.
Izzy already knew Laura, but I introduced her to Destiny. They were close to the same height, a matched pair of cuteness and chicness.
Izzy said, “Cody’s the real reason the sheriff turned my world upside down today.”
I sucked in my breath, ready for a fight in front of me, but Izzy laughed. “I came down to apologize, Ava. I’m stressed out from this murder. It’s an awful thing when that happens in your own house.”
“All is forgiven,” I said, rushing to wrap her in a hug.
“I want to make it up to you. I was thinking about having another party that would feature your fudge. Maybe we could introduce a second new flavor, to make the party special.”
This puzzled me. “Are you sure you’re ready for another party?”
“No, but it wouldn’t be at my place,” she said.
Harbor came over to sniff her, then sat next to me and leaned against my legs while Izzy continued. “Since the party was supposed to be a fund-raiser to refurbish that old mansion that the village inherited, maybe we could find a way to have the party there?”
A candlelike glow popped to life inside me. “Have you been talking to Cody Fjelstad?”
“No, why?”
I told the women about Cody’s wish for holding a prom party in the mansion. Prom was only a week from Saturday, unfortunately.
“Not much time at all.” Izzy worried a lip with her teeth for only a moment. “But we can do it. I’ll contribute cleaning supplies and round up the cleaning ladies I hired last fall when I took over the Blue Heron.”
Laura volunteered to provide balloons. “I keep tons of them on hand for my baking school parties for kids. And I can bake bread bowls for special dips and special cupcakes. What’s the color scheme?”
“It has to be pink,” I said. “Cody said Bethany’s favorite color is pink, and he’s already planning to give her pink carnations.”
Izzy said, “And of course your fudge is pink.”
We laughed at how quickly we put together a prom party. Harbor barked, making us laugh harder.
“He’s volunteering, too,” Destiny said. “What can I do?”
I asked, “Can you look into our village codes? We might need permits fast. Our village president is all of nineteen. He might need guidance.”
“Nineteen?” Destiny struck a modeling pose. “This is a cinch. I’ll stop by to talk with him before I drive back to Sturgeon Bay.”
I told her where Erik Gustafson lived, and then Destiny took off. Laura left right after her.
I headed back to finish loafing my fudge at the front of the store, Harbor following and settling at my feet, so close that I feared he’d trip me.
Isabelle shook her head. “He sure sticks by you, for some reason. Maybe he’s afraid of me.”
“I doubt that, Izzy. Maybe it’s that perfume you’re wearing. What is it?”
Isabelle flushed.
Kneading the silken dough under my hand, I said, “Don’t tell me. It’s Rainetta’s?”
“What use was she going to get out of it? Her manager would have just tossed it.”
What she said made sense, though her taking things from a dead woman was starting to feel unsettling. Maybe I was just too sensitive and not being practical. But then there was my trust issue. I trusted Izzy. She had a good heart, after all, and was being put through hell right now, what with the sheriff rifling through her things and questioning her guests again. Izzy had to feel adrift; she was in need of true friends. “Thanks, Izzy, for the party idea. I hope we can get that place in shape within nine days. It’s a mess. Have you seen it lately?”
“I’ve never been inside. Too busy with my own place.”
I told her about my sojourn there with Pauline two days ago and confessed about being pushed down the stairs.
She gasped. “My gosh. I really have been distracted. Did you always have that wrist bandaged? I never noticed it until now.”
I held up my left wrist. “I only started bandaging it yesterday. It was Cody’s idea, and it feels better with the support. He thinks the Reeds are responsible. Or at least, I think that.”
“Will and Hannah are always nervous, and they are constantly arguing.”
“Cody thinks the Reeds tried to push him down the back stairs in your place, and I’m thinking that maybe they were in that mansion and tried to do the same to me.”
“Do you suppose they were trying to hide diamonds over there?”
“Or other things from your place, too. Have you done an inventory lately?”
“No, but I did notice a couple of the glass paperweights missing, but I assume my guests are using them on their desks or something. I’m sure they’re still at the inn. I’m always there, and so are the Reeds.”
“Are you sure? What if they’ve been sneaking down your back stairs? Hannah came through the back door of my fudge shop on Tuesday to make a purchase of some kind, then left the same way.”
“But they’d have to go through Jeremy Stone’s room.”
“He’s never around. They’d have no problem stealing and sneaking things out.”
Izzy got a horrified look. “Maybe we should look around that abandoned mansion.”
“I don’t know if that’s wise, not without the sheriff with us.” I suddenly didn’t want to go back to the place for fear of finding all manner of stolen goods from Izzy’s inn.
“But all the suspects are with the sheriff right now at my inn. This could be a perfect tim
e to check out the mansion for the party. And if we find diamonds or my paperweights, that’s a bonus.”
Izzy appeared to be her old self again, and her plea sounded too adventurous to pass up. I said, “Help me put this fudge in a cooling pan. Then we’ll go.”
Moose Lindstrom walked in just then, banging the door all the way back to where it clanged the cowbell against the wall under the big picture window. He glanced at all the pink stuff on the shelves on my side, shuddered, then said, “Did ya know your grandfather’s trying to blow himself up?”
• • •
Gilpa had an engine casing off. He appeared to be rewiring old, frazzled wires that were likely the reason for us smoking all the way back in the boat yesterday. Izzy and I stood safely on the pier with Moose.
I called over to Gilpa, “What’re you doing? Moose says you’re trying to kill yourself.”
Gilpa didn’t look up. “Tell Moose to mind his own business because I’ve got a business of my own to run.”
It was heading toward ten thirty, which made me look up at Moose, who was standing between Izzy and me. I asked, “Aren’t you usually out with a fishing tour at this time?”
Thursdays were pretty busy days for Moose and Gilpa because people started four-day fishing weekends then. A lot of Chicago people came up to Door County on Thursdays.
Moose harrumphed. “Coast Guard had us stay in this morning. Something about inspecting all vessels for illegal cargo. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was about those diamonds in your fudge. Wouldn’t take much to run a batch of fudge in my boat to a buyer out on the water.” He chuckled. “Imagine hauling fudge as if it were some pirate’s booty.”
“Moose, that’s exactly how I want people to feel about my fudge.”
Gilpa called over, “You tell ’im, Ava Mathilde! Chocolate doubloons!”
Izzy tugged at my elbow. “Everybody’s all right here. Let’s get to the mansion before I have to go back to the surly lineup of guests I’m babysitting.”
“They might need to be in a lineup soon,” I said, following her up the pier and past my shop.
The shop building looked worn out today; I was seeing it through new eyes. Grandma’s words from last night were resonating with me. She was right about setting priorities. If I were going to thrive here, I had to do something about our old building. Gilpa and I were just too cramped in it. But I also knew that Door County didn’t let you destroy the historical integrity of buildings, such as remodeling too much or razing them to build something bigger. I didn’t have enough money to move anywhere else, though. Harbor put his paws up on the inside windowsill as I passed the shop, emphasizing that the shop was no bigger than a giant dog house.
Izzy and I made our way down the dock area, past the parking lot, and across the street and past the back sides of condos and shops. We headed for the corner. We had one block after that to reach Main Street.
Izzy asked, “Do you suppose they’d really check boats for something like those stolen diamonds?”
“I suppose they could. But I think Moose was just spinning a fish tale of sorts.”
“But they haven’t found all the diamonds.”
“How do you know that?” I asked cautiously, wondering if she’d heard about the stash in Jeremy Stone’s room.
“Why else would the sheriff and his deputy be searching my place again?”
“For evidence on who strangled Rainetta. Is he searching her room again?”
“Yes.”
“See. That’s what they’re after. Evidence.”
It struck me that Izzy didn’t know all that much about the crime, considering she was living among a bunch of weird guests who were blaming one another and her. But maybe she had a good policy—stay out of the fracas and thus be able to sleep. Jeremy Stone had told Pauline and me quite a bit about Rainetta’s odd connection to the New York diamond heist. I felt that if Izzy knew about it, she’d be spilling her guts to me right now. But she wasn’t. And I wasn’t about to divulge what I’d been told because it would then compromise us all. Having my own secrets seemed like a safe thing at the moment. Izzy and I thought alike on that score. Keep your secrets; keep yourself safe.
As we walked up Main Street, heading east, one car went by. From the distance I heard the faint, melodic sound of kids laughing on the playground at school. The town was serene. All that had happened didn’t seem possible for little Fishers’ Harbor.
When we crossed the street, we stopped to stare for a moment at the mansion. The front window that Pauline had broken with her purse and tree branch to get in to help me was still uncovered.
“There’re probably animals inside,” I said.
Izzy said, “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”
“We’re here. Might as well take a quick look to see what we’ll need to fix besides the window in order to hold the party.”
Izzy followed me up the rickety front steps and onto the porch. A couple of slats of yellow siding rattled in the wind next to the front door. I lifted the loose siding to peek under it.
“It’s brick. This isn’t the original siding.”
“If the brick is in such bad shape that they had to cover it, this place may need to be torn down. Maybe we should just leave.”
“But this was your idea.”
“I know. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t like spooky places.”
But we ventured inside. The dust on the floor still retained the imprints from Pauline and me. And there were small animal tracks, probably those of a squirrel.
The mustiness made me sneeze. The space was bigger even than Izzy’s foyer and entrance hall. Hers was taken up by a central staircase; here the staircase was much smaller and off to the right wall.
Because it was so dim, I looked around for a light switch in the vague hope there might be electricity. Izzy found a switch first, but when she flipped the toggle no bulbs popped on in the lights overhead or in the sconces next to a double door ahead of us.
She said, “Maybe there’s a circuit breaker box or fuses in the basement that just need to be turned on.”
I laughed then. “And you’re expecting me to go down there alone.”
“That would be nice.” Hope scored her face.
“Chicken. It’s just a basement.” I looked about. “Now, where to find the door?”
“Mine’s in my kitchen,” she suggested.
We went through the double doors straight ahead, which opened to a large room that had to have once been a dining hall that I estimated could easily seat thirty people. The entire Oosterlings’ Live Bait, Bobbers & Belgian Fudge could fit inside the room. Beyond that, we entered the kitchen and found the basement door. When I opened it I realized I had no flashlight, but light filtered in below, obviously from the basement window I’d seen from the outside on Tuesday. I made my way down the wooden steps.
Izzy waited at the top of the stairs.
My work boots made a heavy clunk with each step, which spooked me out.
I finally made it to the bottom, then felt better right away because the meager light from the cloudy basement window revealed a decent enough floor made of expensive but old green, white, and black tiles of the kind I’d seen in the old-style bathroom at my manager’s house in Los Angeles. At least this wasn’t some old root cellar, though those often existed in Door County under anything built prior to refrigeration, which this was.
Not seeing a breaker box anywhere ahead of me or to the right, I took a left turn around a post next to the staircase to head into the darker maw of the basement. What I saw sent a shrill scream spewing from me.
I raced back up the stairs two at a time. I bowled over Izzy.
We both went sprawling across the linoleum, sliding right up to the cabinets on the far side of the room. I didn’t even feel my bad wrist because of the adrenaline shooting through me. “Izzy, there’s a body down there!”
“What?”
“A body!”
“Oh my God! Are you sure?”
&nbs
p; Disbelieving myself, I ventured back down the stairs, faster this time, my boots clunking louder. Izzy came after me, sucked up against my back.
When we got to the bottom of the staircase and then turned, there he was. Sprawled across the tiles. A big spot next to his head. Dried blood?
“We’d better call Jordy,” I said.
Izzy ventured around me for a closer look. “I think I know this person.” She stepped back toward me, her hand over her heart. “I do know him.”
“Who is he?”
“Rainetta Johnson’s manager.”
A feeling akin to a sudden flu overwhelmed me. “Cody,” I whispered with dread.
“Cody what?” Isabelle asked.
“He . . . He said he was here the other night . . .”
“Oh no.” Izzy groaned. “You think . . . Cody did it?”
Chapter 16
The main show by noon that Thursday was the mansion on Main Street in Fishers’ Harbor. Gusty winds frustrated three news vans that were trying to set up their satellite dishes along the street. Camera people braced themselves against the cold May breezes. The sun was out, but the temperature was in the fifties. Jackets flapped on everybody, and a couple of women reporters were constantly removing their coiffed hair from their mouths as they talked to unknown millions. I saw a network’s peacock logo on a microphone.
Isabelle and I had run back to our respective places after finding the body. I’d called 911 on my cell, but the sheriff was at the Blue Heron Inn already so everything happened quickly. The medical examiner was inside the mansion now. Izzy and I stood on the porch, me in my red jacket and her in a stylish cobalt blue trench coat. We were a “Mutt and Jeff” team adrift between the camera people on the lawn and the sheriff and ME in the house. Jordy had asked us to come back to the place with him to retrace our steps.
I’d also called Sam Peterson. He was wending his way through the growing crowd on the lawn, where spooky shadows were made by the noon sun being blocked by the limbs of craggy oak trees. Once Sam finally reached the porch, I fell into his arms.
“Oh, Sam,” I whispered. “There’s a connection to Cody again.”
First-Degree Fudge: A Fudge Shop Mystery Page 21
