All You Need Is Fudge (2 page)

Gail Hall from the coffee shop walked down from the pier with her hands full of coffees in a paper carrier. “You guys look like you could use some strong coffee.”

Mal stood on her hind legs to greet Gail.

“Sorry pup. No coffee for you.” Gail was tall and large-boned and wore her dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She handed coffee to the first responders as they stood around a moment to take in the scene. Squatting down by me, she patted Mal on the head with her free hand while handing me a coffee with her other hand. Remnants of black paint covered her cuticles.

“I saw you jump into the lake,” she said, her brown eyes filled with concern. “You gave me quite a scare. I had no idea what you were doing. I thought maybe you'd finally had enough of island life and I'd have to come out and get you.” She tilted her head. “I wasn't looking forward to jumping into the lake myself, so I called 9-1-1.”

“Oh,” was all I could say in answer. I sipped the coffee. “That's why Charlene knew it was me when I called.”

Gail nodded. “Yeah. I saw you pulling someone out of the water. I would have come out sooner, but I had to wait for Emily to get in to cover the shop.”

“You look like you were painting.” I pointed at her hands.

“Spray paint,” she said and rubbed at the spots. “This is from last night. I've been painting an old dresser. Gotta love the do-it-yourself look. Mine is a bit worse than what you see the pros do on TV.” She paused and watched as they zipped the woman up in the black body bag. “It's weird to think you could be painting a dresser one day and dead the next. Just like her.” She turned to me. “How did you know she was there?”

“Mal,” I replied and pointed at my dog. “She's got a good sniffer.”

“She smelled her from the pier?”

“Yes. Crazy, right?”

“Right. Creepy to think some girl was floating dead a few feet from my shop and I didn't know it. Any idea who she is? I couldn't see from the shop.”

“Ladies, no details until I get your stories.” Rex drew his dark eyebrows together in a look of concern.

“Right.” Gail stood. “I've got to get back.”

“I'll be in the coffee shop in a few,” Rex said. “Thanks for the coffee.”

She smiled. “You're welcome. Take care, Allie.”

“I will. Thanks.”

We watched her walk back to the coffee shop. She was probably ten years older than me—so in her mid to late thirties—and pretty in her black slacks and navy-blue top.

Rex squatted down beside me and absently patted Mal as he looked out over the crowded marina. More people had begun to emerge from the boats to prep for a day of sailing. “Do you know who you pulled out of the lake?”

“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “I sort of recognize her, though. Is she a local?”

“Yeah.” He looked at me. “Carin Moore. Her family's been on the island for generations. They're members of the yacht club. In fact, see that big yacht—third one down on the more expensive pier?”

I glanced across the boats. “The one that says
Daddy's Girl
on the side?”

“Yes,” Rex said with a short nod. “That's her family's boat.”

“You said she might have been faceup because she was dead when she hit the water.” I chewed on my bottom lip. “Do you think she was killed on the boat and pushed in?”

“I'm not going to speculate,” Rex said.

“She had a nice cocktail dress on.” I closed my eyes as I pictured the color-blocked silk dress. “I bet it was designer.” I paused and looked at Rex. “She wasn't very old, was she?”

“She's around your age,” he replied. “She was in Paige Jessop's class in school.”

“Oh.” I hugged the blanket around me. “I don't know why, but it's worse when someone your age ends up dead.”

“Yeah,” Rex said, his mouth firm.

“I tried to save her,” I said, clinging to the coffee cup as if it would make things right. The EMTs hefted the full body bag onto the stretcher and pulled it toward the ambulance.

“It was too late,” he said, his tone low and soothing. “We're going to need your clothes. Shane will be here soon. He'll probably want to take samples from your hair and your nails and such.”

“Right.” I made a face. “I should be used to this by now. But I'm not.” I looked at Rex. “Finding all these bodies, I feel like I have really bad timing. I mean an hour later and someone else would have found her. You know?”

“Maybe you have good timing. Maybe the killers have bad timing.”

I sent him a half smile. “Thanks, but I don't think there's anyone on the island who believes that.” Sipping my coffee to try to get warm, I watched them place the stretcher in the ambulance.

George waved as they headed around to the front of the vehicle. I lifted my hand in a short wave.

“You said you left around six
AM
,” Rex said. “Did you go out the back and down the alley or out the front?”

“We walked out the front because Frances had come in already to watch the desk,” I said.

“Did you see anyone?”

I drew my eyebrows together. “No, it was too early. Most of the shop owners don't even think about coming in until seven. I think I saw a pair of joggers go by, but I didn't recognize them. They were probably tourists.”

“So, only a pair of joggers? Did you walk on the fort side or the harbor side of Main?”

“Mal and I walked down the fort side toward the marina. I crossed at the lawn in front of the fort because I thought it would be nice to see all the boats that have come in for the weekend yacht race.” My gaze went to the boats. People were out starting up motors, taxiing out of the marina or raising sails, hopping on the dock to untie the boat, then hopping back on as the boats left the marina and headed out to the lake. “Is it okay that they leave?”

Rex looked at the busy docks. “There's not much I can do without a warrant. They'll be back tonight for tomorrow's race.” He turned back to me. “Did you see anyone on the pier? On any boats?”

“I'm sorry,” I said with a shake of my head. “I don't remember seeing anyone. I remember thinking the flowers in the flower beds along the walk were lovely when Mal stopped to do her business. I remember listening to the waves lap against the boats and thinking it would be a nice sound to go to sleep to. I wondered if I should save up for a boat. Not a yacht. There's no way I could afford that. Do you have a boat?”

“A fishing boat. I sold my sailing boat.”

I blinked at the thought of Rex sailing. I suppose when you grow up on an island, you learn about boats pretty fast. Just another thing I missed by growing up in Detroit.

“You were walking by the boats . . .”

“Right. Like I said, I saw the coffee shop and thought I'd get Frances some scones. We walked up the coffee shop side of the pier and were almost there when Mal tugged me over to the edge. She wouldn't go any farther. Sometimes she can be stubborn. I went over to see what she was sniffing at, looked down, and saw the woman in the water. The rest you know.”

Mal barked and raced off. I glanced after her and saw Officer Brown heading our way. He was a nice guy, younger than Rex, less rugged, but still built like a gym rat. Mal greeted him with a happy bark.

“I'm going to have Charles walk you over to the clinic,” Rex said. “It'll be easier for Shane to collect evidence without a crowd.” He helped me up. “We'll contact Jenn and see if she can bring you clean clothes.”

“Okay. It's weird, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Finding that girl in the marina,” I said with a shrug. “Managing to get her on the grass and then having to be looked over like a piece of evidence.”

“I'm sorry, Allie. It's a heck of a way to start a day.”

“It seems to be the pattern to my summer. What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to go check out the Moores' yacht, then see Gail, and after that try to get more people out here to talk to the boaters. Someone saw something.”

“What about Carin's family?”

“When I get a positive ID, I'll go over with the bad news.”

“What if they're on the boat? I mean won't they wonder why you're checking out their yacht?”

“Go with Charles,” Rex said. “Leave the investigation to me. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” Rex handed me off to Officer Brown. “See that she's checked out. She's bleeding.”

I looked down to see blood dripping down my arm from a long scratch that must have happened when I climbed up on shore.

“I'll take good care of her.” Officer Brown's dark green gaze filled with concern as he wrapped his big, warm hand around my elbow. “Come on, Allie. Let's get you to the clinic.”

Mal barked her agreement.

Officer Brown had Mal's leash in his hand and it was the first time I realized that I hadn't had Mal's leash since I jumped into the water. Thankfully, she was a good puppy and hadn't left me. I gave Frances a quick call to come get Mal and to have Jenn bring me a bag of clean clothes. Frances had been right when she gave Mal to me. I did need someone to look out for me. Then again, my life wouldn't have been half as exciting without Mal nosing out dead bodies.

It made me wonder what kind of clues she'd find next.

The problem with touching a dead body is that the police liked to take your clothing into evidence. That might have been fine the first time, but with my limited wardrobe and perchance for finding bodies it was getting expensive.

“Bringing you clothes seems to be a big part of my job,” Jenn said as she handed me a paper bag.

“You love it. The more clothes I lose to evidence the more you can shop online for me.” I dug out fresh underwear, shorts, and a T-shirt and ducked behind the curtain in the clinic room where I'd been checked out and given a couple of stitches on my forearm. “You know how much I hate to clothes shop.”

“That's why you have me as your personal shopper.” She laughed and followed me in, sitting on the exam couch. “I don't think I've ever met a woman who doesn't like to shop.”

“Clothes judge me,” I groused. “Food on the other hand never judges. I can grocery shop all day.”

“What a weirdo,” she teased.

“You have to admit that things are never dull around me.” I quickly changed into clean clothes and dropped my wet leggings and shirt into an evidence bag.

“I can't believe you actually jumped into the water and pulled out a dead body.” Jenn sat with her hands on her narrow hips. Long legged, tall, and gorgeous, she wore crisp linen slacks and a flowing peasant blouse with embroidered flowers along the drawstring front. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat chignon and she wore gorgeous sandals. Jenn looked ready for brunch at the country club, mostly because that was what she was doing later in the morning.

“I wasn't sure if she was dead or not when I jumped in,” I pointed out as I struggled to put on my wet shoes. My hair was nearly dry and still tangled in bits of lake flotsam. Jenn handed me a comb and I attacked my hair. “I've forgotten how hard it is to swim in regular clothes and drag a non-responsive person to shore.”

“Ugh. I remember that training in lifeguard class,” Jenn said as her expression went from one of exasperation to one of condolences. “At least she didn't try to drown you. Did they struggle against you when you took your test?”

“Yes.” I remembered taking the class. My teacher Mr. Metzger wanted to be sure we were prepared for all situations. He'd told us to be prepared to save him as he struggled like a drowning person. “My instructor was also the football coach so he was 200 pounds of pure muscle. He over did the panic thing, if you ask me. I have no idea how I passed that test, but I did.”

“Ha. My instructor refused to get wet. She set up seniors in stations to enact drowning by struggle and dead weight,” Jenn said. “I remember my struggle guy was Ryan Wiltz. He had a thing for me so he barely wiggled while I got my arm under his shoulders and swam to the edge of the pool.” She sighed. “He was so sexy.”

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“Oh, well, it turns out he also had a thing for Jessica Kelley and Amiee Hendricks, and Susy Brown and Ashley Kaufman.” She listed four girls then gave up. “Pretty much every girl in my class. He was so cute that he got away with dating two or three at a time.”

“But not you,” I said, a tad horrified.

“No.” She laughed. “Not me. When I found out that Emily Crawford was the only girl he wasn't dating, I moved on to Mike Hancock.”

“The senior prom date,” I said, recalling a discussion we'd had one late night at our dorm in college.

“Yes.” She nodded. “The senior prom date. Huh. Funny how stuff comes back to you. I haven't thought about lifeguard training in years and years.”

“Me, neither.” I finished making myself somewhat presentable. “Funny what seeing a person in the water will do to you.”

There was a knock.

“Have you collected my evidence yet?” Shane called from the other side.

Jenn smiled at the sound of his voice. She hopped down, grabbed the plastic bag filled with my clothing and opened the curtain. “It's right here,” she said as she handed it to him. “Do you want me to tag it for you?”

Shane was a tall, skinny guy with dark horn-rimmed glasses. He wore his dark hair slicked back out of his face. He was sexy in a quiet, super-smart kind of way. I could understand why Jenn was so captured. He was wearing a lab coat over a dark green T-shirt with a Think Geek logo and a pair of skinny jeans. His feet were covered in black and white old style high-tops.

“No, thanks. I have my own system.” He took the bag from her and gave her an appreciative once over. “Thanks, doll.”

“See you later?” she asked and kissed his cheek.

“I'll pick you up tonight as planned.”

“I hope this whole dead body thing doesn't put a cramp in your dating style,” I said, trying to remain sincere.

“Oh, no, it actually makes it more exciting,” Jenn said with a laugh. “It gives us something to talk about.”

“Not that I discuss a case with someone outside the system,” Shane said with one raised eyebrow. “That wouldn't be appropriate, would it?”

“No,” Jenn said with a shake of her head. “It wouldn't be appropriate.”

I thought I saw her wink at him.

He pinked slightly, cleared his throat, and turned to head out with the evidence. He worked in the county crime department in St. Ignace where he had what lab equipment the county could muster. Some items were months behind in testing, but he did what he could as a one-man crime scene guy.

“Where do we go now?” Jenn asked me as she took back her comb and shoved it into her purse.

“Rex said I could leave as soon as I gave Shane my clothes. When do you have your meeting at the yacht club?”

Jenn had volunteered us for the yacht race fund-raiser. She, my part-time chocolatier, Sandy Everheart, and I were assigned to put chocolate centerpieces on the tables. Each of the pieces resembled yachts enrolled in this weekend's race. We'd spent two weeks studying pictures of the ships. Sandy then made clay replicas of each ship and cast molds made out of silicon. We'd finished making and pouring the chocolate the night before. All that was left to do with the chocolate was assemble the centerpieces and place them carefully on each table.

Jenn glanced at her wristwatch. “The meeting is in twenty minutes. Not enough time for you to shower and properly dress.”

I sighed. “I'll come in late with Sandy to put the pieces on the tables.”

“That's probably a good idea. Proper dress and behavior is important to these people. Be sure you're both wearing your best chef coats and hats.”

“I've got mine cleaned and pressed,” I said dryly. “Please convey to Paige and the rest of the committee my apologies for being late.”

“Oh, I'm sure the news of the dead body has already run through town. They'll expect you to be late.”

I shook my head as we left the clinic. “How am I ever going to get rid of this reputation for finding the dead?”

“Don't knock it,” Jenn said. “It's great publicity. Everyone knows who you are now. Seriously, the old saying
No press is bad press
is for a reason. You watch. People will be stopping by to purchase fudge all morning.”

“Now that makes it all worthwhile,” I said with a sarcastic tone. “Doesn't anyone feel for the poor dead girl? I mean she was our age, for goodness sake.”

“She was also very mean,” Jenn said.

I glanced at her. “How do you know that? Have they officially identified the body?”

“Rex is with the family right now,” Jenn said and shrugged. “It's a small island. News this big gets around fast. The Moores are major players in the yacht club set. It's going to be an interesting day setting up for the official race day kickoff.”

“Mean or not, no one deserves to die so young.”

Jenn nodded. “I can't argue with that.” She glanced at her watch. “Okay, I'm heading to the club for the meeting. I'll see you there?”

“Yes, give me half an hour to shower and get dressed.”

“See you.” Jenn headed down the street to the yacht club, which sat just past the fort and before the Island House Hotel.

I pulled open the door to the historic McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop and was hit by the magical scent of chocolate, coffee, and just a hint of age from the building. Frances, my reception manager, sat on the stool behind the reception desk tucked in the far left corner of the room. The McMurphy lobby was large. I had remodeled it just this spring, recreating the original thick pink and white striped walls, refinishing the old wood floors, and adding period replicated area rugs. The back wall housed two sweeping staircases on either side, leading to the second- and then third-floor rooms. The fourth floor was the McMurphy's business office and the owner's apartments that were now my permanent home.

The floors shone from last night's polish. I recently had the area rugs cleaned, which made the entire lobby smell fresh. The reception desk was carefully polished with beeswax. Cubbies for guest mail placement and a locked glass box of unassigned room keys were behind it. The McMurphy held on to the old tradition of metal keys to unlock the rooms. Keys were returned there when people checked out.

Frances had worked as the reception manager for years. She was a retired school teacher and my Grammy Alice's best friend. After Papa Liam died, Frances had stayed on to help me through the current season. I hoped she would continue in her role until she was ready to retire. I prayed that was a long way off, but it was hard to tell. Frances was in her seventies and sometimes talked of traveling.

In the center of the stairs was an old-fashioned elevator, complete with wire-framed gate that pulled closed. You could see through it as you rose from the lobby. The elevator stopped at the third floor offering only a staircase to reach my apartment. The thought was that would help keep guests from going up to my home. So far so good.

In front of the elevator was a grouping of winged-back chairs and a love seat complete with coffee table. To the far right was a coffee bar with carafes full of coffee twenty-four hours a day along with a wide variety of creams, sugars, and bottles of flavoring. To the front right was the fudge shop, which I had closed off with glass walls from floor to ceiling. I'd left the front open initially, but a few weeks ago, I'd adopted a cat we'd named Caramella—Mella for short. Since then, I'd had the entire fudge shop walled off in glass with a wide swinging door so I could demonstrate fudge making without Mella getting into the area. I didn't want her getting hurt from the super-heated sugar that went into candy making.

The front left of the lobby held the fireplace and couches along with reading lamps and a sign announcing free Wi-Fi. The idea was that people would stop in to use the Wi-Fi, get a coffee, and hopefully buy a pound or two of fudge to take home with them.

“Allie, are you okay?” Sandy, my chocolatier and Mackinac native, opened the fudge shop door and came out. The scent of dark chocolate followed her. She'd been putting the finishing touches on the ship centerpieces. Her black hair, pulled back into a long braid down her back was covered by a white chef's cap on her head. Her eyes were so dark brown to be nearly black and her copper colored skin was smooth over high cheekbones. She was shorter than I was—only reaching my shoulder—and slight of build.

“I'm okay,” I said with a bit of a smile.

“I heard about the girl in the marina. That is bad luck for the yacht race.”

“And for the girl,” Frances said from her perch behind the receptionist desk. She still had a full head of brown hair, which she kept cut in a short bob that swung near her shoulders. Unlike me and Sandy with our black slacks and chef's coats, Frances dressed more free-spirited in flowing skirts, sweaters, and blouses. She wore bangles on her wrists and silver hoops in her ears.

I grimaced a little, trying for a smile. “Unfortunately I'm making us late. There is lake water in my hair and I need to shower before I can help you take the centerpieces to the club to set them up.”

“You'd better scoot.” Frances looked at me over the top of her purple cat-eyed reading glasses. “Jenn told me that the setup is supposed to be done by one o'clock and it's already ten-thirty.”

“I'm scooting,” I said as I climbed the stairs. “Sandy, you've got everything ready to transport, right?”

“Yes, boss,” she called to me. “I'm finishing boxing things up for the move now.”

“Great. I'll be down in a jiffy.”

When I opened the apartment door, Mal raced over and jumped on me. Her bobbed tail wagging.

“Hello, love,” I said and scratched behind her ears. “How are you? Did Frances give you breakfast?” I walked over to see the remains of breakfast in her dishes and freshened her water in her bowl. Then I heard a mewl. I turned to see Mella on the breakfast bar watching me. I gave her a quick pet from head to tail. “Hello there, pretty kitty. How are you getting along?” I glanced over to see that she had some food and water as well. We had separated the dishes. Doggie food was kept on the floor and cat food on the countertop.

I ducked into the bathroom to run a quick shower. My thoughts whirled. Was Carin's death an accident or murder? If an accident, what would cause a girl to slip off a boat and drown? Why didn't anyone see it happen and try to save her?

If it was murder, who would want to kill Carin Moore? I barely knew the girl, but she was my age. How many enemies could she have made only in her twenties? I suppose those answers would have to wait for the coroner's report.

In the meantime, Carin's death would definitely put a damper on the yacht races. I was pretty certain her parents wouldn't be taking their boat out any time soon.