All You Need Is Fudge (20 page)

“Yes.” The blonde and her friend stepped forward in the line. “It's why Carin buried the hatchet with Paige. She wanted to bring the Jessops in on Jamison's campaign.”

“Well, I can see that. What a force to have the Moores and the Jessops backing you.”

I caught a glimpse of the other woman in the mirror. She was a brunette in an emerald green print gown that looked as if it might be Dolce & Gabbana.

“Having Paige Jessop accused of murdering Carin really puts a split between the families and their friends. Poor James not only lost his girlfriend, but all the backing the Jessops could have given him.”

“Do you think Carin's murder was politically motivated?” the brunette asked.

I paused with my lipstick half raised toward my lips and held my breath. Here was an angle I hadn't known about. I wondered if Rex knew about it. Certainly Trent and Tom would have told me if they had known about it.

“Oh, I doubt it. Politics are murder, but there are easier ways to split the two families than to kill Carin,” the blonde said. “There are so many skeletons in the closets.”

“True. That's what happens when families have generations of history behind them,” the brunette said.

They stepped closer to me as the line slowly moved.

“I wonder what Eleanor thought of Carin and Paige becoming friends,” the blonde said.

The brunette's eyes grew wide and she gave a giggle. “I bet she was beside herself.”

“Carin was her only friend,” the blonde said. “Without her, Eleanor is nothing but the operations manager of the yacht club.”

“Manager of the club with a bartender boyfriend.” The brunette shook her head. “That's no way to social climb.”

“She spent her whole life riding Carin's coattails. I don't know what she'll do now,” the blonde said.

“Find someone else to glom on to,” the brunette said. “The smart thing to do would be to marry her way up. I'll have my mother warn all the eligible bachelors to beware.”

“As if they would be attracted to that.”

Both laughed as they walked past me into the stall area.

I finished my lipstick, washed my hands, and returned to my table.

“Are you okay?” Trent asked.

“Yes, I think I'm okay.”

“Good.” He patted my hand.

The waiter bent near me and asked if I would like red or white wine. I opted for white and looked over the crowd to see if Eleanor was visible. I finally spotted her near the front of the room in a strapless column dress of royal purple. Her hair was in an updo and she looked quite nice. I'd always thought of her as Snow White pretty with her black hair and pale skin, but on closer inspection, her eyes were a little too close together. Her mouth was a little too thin.

I watched her work the head tables like a pro, laughing at something Richard Blake said. Careful to touch each one just enough to be flirty but understated. I wondered if she was Harold Jones's lady love? I thought Mrs. Jones meant that he was dating one of the patrons. It never occurred to me that he was dating someone who worked there. It made sense. More sense than a part-time bartender in his forties dating a daughter of the yacht club set.

I watched her work her way around the head table. It was her job to keep the board happy, and she was doing it well. The music was perfect. The waitstaff on point. The cocktail hour could not have been better. The only bad thing was the empty table where the Moores and their friends would have sat. A black runner had been placed over the center and the plates turned over, signifying that the table was left empty out of respect.

As Eleanor queued up the president to move to the podium and begin his opening remarks, I thought about telling Trent what I had learned in the bathroom. I decided to wait since it was better not to rely on gossip.

I watched as her eyes teared when Richard Blake called for a moment of silence. After the meal, I would hunt her down and ask how did she feel about Carin and Paige's friendship and why hadn't she told me they were working together on James Jamison's campaign. I would also ask her point blank if she'd had anything to do with Harold Jones's testimony. If anything felt off about her explanations, I would tell Tom, not Trent.

Suspicions were one thing. To get to the truth I had to find proof.

“Very nice event, Eleanor,” I said as I hunted her down after the auction.

“Thank you,” she said with a curt nod of her head. “It would have been even better if you had had enough respect for Carin and for me not to come tonight.”

“No one seemed bothered by my being here,” I said.

“That's because you're with Trent. At least Paige had the good sense to stay home.”

“She's on house arrest. No way would she have come with an ankle bracelet keeping track of her every move.”

“She should be in jail for what she did, not allowed the comfort of her family home.”

“I heard a rumor that you are dating Harold Jones. Is that true?” I asked loud enough for two older women to turn their heads in our direction.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Eleanor said and stepped outside onto a side porch away from the prying eyes inside.

“I heard two women talking in the restroom. They said you were dating a bartender on the island. Harold Jones is a part-time bartender at the Nag's Head.”

“I don't understand what that has to do with me.” She turned on her heel to come at me with anger in her gaze and her hands balled into fists at her side.

I resisted the urge to step back. “Harold Jones is the eyewitness who placed Paige on the pier that night. If you are dating him, he may be lying because he thinks you would want him to lie.”

“Why in the world would I want him to lie?”

“Because he thinks Carin—your best friend—and Paige were enemies,” I said. “But they weren't, were they?”

“This is crazy,” she said in a low whisper. “First of all, I would never date a part-time bartender. Secondly, I didn't tell anyone to lie about Paige being on the pier that night.”

“Would you be willing to take a lie detector test about that?” I asked.

“No, I would not.” She crossed her arms. “Lie detectors are an invasion of my privacy and I will not stand for anyone to assume that I am not telling the truth.”

“Come on, Eleanor. You knew that Carin and Paige were becoming fast friends and yet you led me to believe they were still feuding.”

“You're new to the island,” she said and raised her nose in the air. “Don't think because you are dating Trent Jessop that you know more things about Carin and Paige than I do.”

“You knew they were becoming friends. You knew that Carin wanted the Jessops to support James Jamison for congress.”

“You have no idea what I know,” Eleanor said.

“Why don't you enlighten me then,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Paige Jessop killed Carin in cold blood. She bashed her head in with a lifeboat oar and then left her to drown in the water of the marina.”

“Why would she do that, Eleanor?” I pressed. “Because Carin beat her at homecoming queen? That was ten years ago.”

“Reggie wanted Carin back. Paige and Carin fought the afternoon she was killed. We broke it up. Janet told you that. After that, Paige had enough time to preplan Carin's murder. Paige used Ronald Lorrie to lure Carin away from her party that night. Ronald asked Carin to wait for him on the pier, but he never showed. Instead, Paige picked up the oar and bashed Carin in the head, dumped her into the water, and then rowed back to the
Scoundrel
. Everyone knows Paige did it. Everyone knows why.”

“No,” I said. “Everyone does not know it. Yes, they fought that afternoon, but not hard enough for anyone—least of all Paige—to want to murder Carin. Certainly not enough to preplan it. In fact, it is just as likely that you lured Carin away from the party that night.”

I saw a spark of fear in Eleanor's gaze and knew I was on to something. “You did, didn't you? It was you on the pier that Harold Jones saw through his lens. That's why you are dating him. You want him to tell everyone it was Paige, but it was you.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. Carin was my best friend.” Eleanor's back went straight. “I'm going in now. I'm working. I don't have time for this nonsense.”

“It's not nonsense,” I said and followed her to the door. “You were mad that Carin and Paige were becoming friends. In fact, it was something you said to Paige that sparked the fight that afternoon, wasn't it?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You told Paige that Carin was hitting on Reggie.”

“I saw it with my own eyes.”

“What you saw was Reggie comforting Carin,” I said.

“He was holding her in his arms,” Eleanor cried. “When I came around the corner, they stepped apart like a pair of guilty children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Someone needed to let Paige know.”

“But Carin was your best friend. Why betray her? Why tell Paige?” I put my hands on my hips. “Was it your attempt at driving a wedge into their budding friendship?”

“I don't like two-timing men,” Eleanor said. “I told Carin that and I told Paige that. It had nothing to do with Carin and Paige's so-called friendship.”

“Really?” I said. “Or is it that you don't like losing the social status you got from being associated with Carin?”

“Now who's being ridiculous?”

“Come on,” I said as she turned her back to me. “Carin was a mean girl yet you spent your entire life doing whatever she said. Even as she put you down for dating Harold Jones. Even as she told you your hair wasn't right. Your schooling wasn't good enough. You still stayed with her because you wanted to be part of the in crowd. With Carin and Paige joining forces, that left you out with nothing but a job as operations manager of the yacht club.”

She turned on me. “I'm the director to one of the most prestigious clubs in the area. I have access to some of the wealthiest, most influential people in Michigan, Wisconsin, and Illinois. I think that's much more important than operating an unimaginative fudge shop.”

“My ambitions aren't in question,” I said. “Yours are. If Rex asks Mrs. Jones who her son's lady love is—”

“She'd better say Eleanor,” a heavyset man my height said as he stepped out of the dark shadows of the patio. “I don't like what you're implying, Ms. McMurphy. Just because you think you've solved a few murders does not give you the right to cast aspersions on my girlfriend.”

“You're Harold Jones?”

“Yes.” He was bald on top with a ring of dark hair around the sides of his head like an old-fashioned monk. He had small brown eyes and a wide nose that looked as if it were broken once or twice in a bar brawl. His meaty hands were fisted. He wore a short sleeved Hawaiian shirt, worn blue jeans, and tennis shoes. He stepped between me and Eleanor. “I don't like where you're going with this line of questioning.”

“You've been watching a lot of cop shows,” I said. “And you are lying about seeing Paige on the pier that night.”

“Yeah? Prove it.” He put his hand on Eleanor's waist. “Don't worry, baby. Everything's going to be all right.”

“Don't touch me,” she scolded him. “Not here. We had an agreement. Until the trial is over, we're not going to be seen in public together.”

“I know, baby. That's why I was waiting out here in the shadows for you. But then I heard what this fudge maker was saying and well, I had to step in.”

“Because I'm on to the truth, aren't I?” I said, my eyes growing wide. “You were on the pier that night, weren't you, Eleanor? You were the one who killed Carin and then covered it up.”

“You have an amazing imagination,” Eleanor said. “I'm sorry, but you've crossed a line.”

“Do you want me to take her out?” Harold asked.

Eleanor looked me up and down. “Yes, take her out to the middle of the straits and dump her. With any luck, her body will wash up on shore after Paige has been convicted of killing Carin.”

“What?” I looked at Eleanor. “Are you threatening me?” I took a step toward her.

Harold wrapped his big hand around my arm and pulled me back.

I did what any girl in my situation would do. I lifted my skirt and stomped my four-inch spiked heel into his instep.

He gave a sharp howl and I kicked him in the groin. He doubled over in pain and I ran inside.

The lights were low. Most people had gone, but a few die-hards were still on the dance floor. A quick glance around told me that Trent was in the far corner talking to Richard Blake. I lifted my skirt and ran toward him.

He looked up and spotted me. His face went suddenly grim and he made a beeline to me. “What is it?” he asked as I put my arms around him and buried my head in his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I am now,” I said, out of breath and trembling.

Eleanor came through the door, pointed a finger at me, and screeched, “Call the police. Allie McMurphy just assaulted a man. I saw everything.”

“Is he going to press charges?” I asked Rex as I sat in a small interrogation room at the police station. Trent's jacket over me helped to stop my shivering. I hugged my waist.

Trent had not been let back into the room with me. He'd insisted on calling in his lawyer, but I knew Frances would call in her cousin, the man who had handled my previous run-ins with the law.

Once Eleanor had made a scene, the lights had gone up at the club. Harold Jones had come limping in, his face red and his eyes watering. I could see he was hopping mad.

So was Trent for that matter. If two of the young guys hadn't stepped in to hold him back, we both might have been in custody on alleged assault charges. Richard Blake had had someone call the police and made everyone wait where they were until Rex could come and sort everything out.

We all went down to the police station and Rex had escorted me into this tiny room. I was lucky he didn't handcuff me. As it was, my shoes were taken into evidence. It seems I'd taken a nice chunk of skin out of Mr. Jones's instep. Unfortunately, that was evidence that could prove I did indeed attack him.

“The real question here is why?” Rex asked as he paced in the space between the table and the door.

“I told you. I discovered that Eleanor and Harold are dating and thought it was suspicious. The only witness to put Paige at the scene of Carin's murder was dating Carin's best friend. After the gala ended, I asked her about it.”

“And why didn't you bring your suspicions to me?”

I sighed. “Because I knew you would just say it was hearsay. That I needed proof.”

“And you thought you would simply walk up to Eleanor and ask her if she was the one framing Paige for Carin's murder?”

I looked at Rex. “You know Paige is being framed?”

He smirked. “I'm not stupid. I had to act on the information I had, but that didn't mean I wasn't working on other leads. You are right. I don't have a solid case against Paige . . . or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Huh. If you had told me, I would have been more forthcoming with my investigation.”

“I can't tell you.” He ran his hand over his face. “You are not a professional. Telling you would severely damage any case I could build against whoever is the killer.”

“Please tell me you have Eleanor in custody.”

“No, I don't. She did nothing wrong.”

“She told Harold to take me out to the straits and dump me.” I pointed in the direction of the lakes. “He grabbed my arm and started to pull me away. If I hadn't acted, I would be out there right now and no one would be the wiser.”

“Listen. We're taking statements from everyone in the area,” Rex said. “Someone had to have seen him grab you.”

I frowned. A purple handprint had developed on my forearm. “He grabbed me.”

Rex scowled and a flash of anger appeared in his eyes. He was a sight to behold. He turned his back and walked carefully to the door. “I'll have Shane document the bruise.” Rex left me in the room.

There was a commotion down the hall. A door slammed and I jumped.

Officer Heyes came in with a paper cup filled with coffee. “Hey. Rex said you might need a warm cup. I put cream in it. Do you want sugar?”

“No, thank you.” Another door slammed and I jumped again.

“Don't let that bother you,” he said, his voice calm. He handed me the cup. “I'm going to stay here with you until your lawyer comes, okay?”

“Okay.” I took the cup and wrapped my cold fingers around it, inhaling the scent of the thick brew. “Smells like you could stand a spoon up in it.”

Officer Heyes lifted half his mouth in a quick wry smile. “Cop coffee. It's all we have.”

“I like it strong.” I took a sip. It was as strong as espresso.

Officer Heyes answered the knock on the door. Shane stood in the hallway with his crime scene kit in his hand.

“Come on in,” I said. “There's a party going on in here.”

“You look like you've been partying,” Shane said and gave a low whistle. “Nice dress.”

“It's a loaner so you can't have it for evidence. I can't afford to buy it and I really doubt the county can either.”

“I see.” He put his kit on the table and opened it. Once gloves were on, he pulled out a camera. “I'm going to start by looking at your hands and arms for defensive wounds.”

“Okay.” I put down the coffee and held out my hands.

He took pictures of the red manicure that Jenn had given me earlier in the evening. When he motioned with his hand, I turned my palms up.

“No obvious cuts,” I said.

Shane glanced at me through his thick glasses. “There usually aren't.”

“I do have this bruise where he grabbed me.” I pushed up the sleeve and Shane took shots of the bruise—a palm and five finger marks showed as deep purple welts—and my other forearm. He asked me to place my forearm on the table beside a measuring stick to document the size and shape of my bruise.

“You pulled away,” he said as he took pictures.

I nodded. “I took a self-defense course in Chicago when I was living downtown. We were taught how to use the weakness of the attacker's thumb to pull away. I then stomped on the instep of his foot with my heel. He let go and I turned, gave him a kick in the groin, and dashed away.”

“I see,” he said judiciously.

“I didn't mean to do real harm,” I went on to explain. “Only to get away.”

Shane put down his camera. “I'm going to take scraping from under your nails.”

“Okay,” I said. “I don't think I scratched him.”

“It's all part of the process. Please hold out your hands.”

I did. They shook as he slipped paper under them and used an orange stick to gently scrape anything that had gotten caught under my nails.

There was another knock at the door. It was Trent with a man in an Armani suit in tow.

“What are you doing?” Armani Man asked.

“Collecting evidence,” Shane said without so much as blinking. “I'm a neutral party. She didn't say anything to me. Ask Officer Heyes.”

Trent and Armani Man looked at Officer Heyes who shook his head. “I brought her coffee and am keeping her company until you got here.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I'm going now. Take care, Allie.”

“Thanks.” I held my breath as Shane asked me to stand.

“Coat off please,” he said.

I handed the tux jacket back to Trent. He looked all sexy and undone in rolled up shirtsleeves and untied bow tie.

Shane took more pictures of me, front and back, then asked for pictures of my feet and legs. I was lucky that he didn't insist on taking the dress . . . although he did swab it. Then he packed up his kit and left without a word.

“I'll tell Jenn you said hello,” I said to his back.

He didn't even stop.

“He's trying to remain neutral,” Armani Man said as he took a chair across from me.

Trent draped his jacket back on my shoulders and tipped my hand over to see the bruise on the underside of my arm. A muscle ticked in his jaw, then he looked at me. “Allie, this is Brent Childs, your attorney.”

“Hello, Mr. Childs.” I shook his hand. “I'm sure I don't need you. This was an act of self-defense.”

“Until we know that no charges will be filed, I think I'll stick around,” he said. “Why don't you tell me in your own words what happened?”

I related the scene the best that I could remember.

Trent pulled a chair up next to mine and put my hands between his to warm them. “You told Eleanor outright that she was more likely to have murdered Carin than Paige?”

I shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to say. I wanted to shock her into telling me what really happened that night.”

“Instead, she told Harold Jones to drown you?” Mr. Childs asked.

I nodded. “Yes, she actually did. I was stunned. I mean, I was there as your date, Trent. What was she going to say when I came up missing? I'm certain someone saw us step outside together.”

“Eleanor is a master manipulator,” Trent said. “You should talk to Paige about her sometime.”

“Did she tell you that she killed Carin?” Mr. Childs asked.

“No”—I shook my head—“she didn't. She said I was in the way and needed to be handled.”

“She said you needed to be handled?” Mr. Childs asked.

“Something like that,” I said.

“I'm afraid something like that won't hold up in a court of law.” Mr. Childs sat back. “This may turn into a case of he said-she said.”

“Won't Eleanor corroborate Harold's statement?”

“We can have her tossed out as a hostile witness,” Mr. Childs said.

“Wait. I'll have to go to trial?” I turned to Trent. “I was grabbed with the intent to kidnap and I'm the one who will have to go to trial?”

“It will depend on the evidence.” He rubbed my back through his jacket. “It's going to be okay. Mr. Childs is a very good lawyer.”

“I can't afford to go to trial,” I said, trying to keep the panic from my voice. “Seriously, I can't. And I really can't go to jail. I have the McMurphy to think about and the staff and the rest of the season and Mal and Caramella and Trent . . .”

“Nice to know I was on that list somewhere,” he said with a low chuckle. “Even if I was last.”

“Stop teasing me,” I said with tears gathering in my eyes. “This is serious. I did everything right. I got away. There's a bruise to prove he grabbed me. What am I missing?”

“Eleanor is saying you attacked her. That Harold grabbed you to stop you before you could touch her. Then you took your anger out on him,” Mr. Childs said.

“But that's a total fabrication,” I said.

“We know.” Trent put his arm around me.

“There seems to be a lot of fabrication going around lately,” Mr. Childs said.

“It's all Eleanor,” I said. “I'm certain she and Harold Jones are framing Paige.”

“The problem is we need proof,” Trent said. “I'll get Tom on it. If your theory about Eleanor is correct—”

“It is,” I said, more certain than ever before. “Why else would she be accusing me of attacking her?”

“There has to be evidence,” Trent said quietly.

“Thank you for bringing the connection between Eleanor and Harold Jones to light,” Mr. Childs said. “We can use that as a negotiating point for Paige.”

“See?” Trent leaned me against his chest. “What you did tonight was a good thing. Let me worry about your court costs and such. It's the least I can do considering what you've been doing for Paige.”

A thought occurred to me. “Who was the bartender on the
Scoundrel
the night of the murder?”

“Why?” Mr. Childs asked.

I looked at Trent. “Do you know who it was?”

“I believe it was Scott Thomas. Why?”

“Bartenders tend to hang out with each other, right? I mean, it's a small island. Even if they don't work at the same bar, they would connect just to keep their options open. Plus they have things in common.”

“Okay,” Trent said. “What are you getting at?”

“I suspect that Reggie and the others on the
Scoundrel
were drugged that night, causing them to pass out early.”

“And Paige to not have an alibi,” Trent said.

“Yes,” I said with a nod and then looked at Mr. Childs. “Harold Jones is a bartender at the Nag's Head Bar and Grill. He could have had access to the alcohol that was served on the
Scoundrel
that night.”

“That's really a stretch,” Mr. Childs said.

“Not so much of a stretch,” Trent said. “When we hire a bartender for a party on the boat, they usually bring their own stash. If Scott is friends with Harold there might have been an opportunity for him to spike the booze.”

“I'll have Tom check it out,” Mr. Childs said.

“That makes Carin's murder premeditated, doesn't it?” I asked.

“If there's a connection, then yes,” Mr. Childs said.

There was a knock on the door and Rex stuck his head into the room. “You're free to go.”

We stood.

“Are they pressing charges?” I asked.

“I've advised them that we have collected evidence from both sides and at first glance I don't see anything that proves criminal assault . . . either way.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“But they tried to kidnap me,” I said.

“And they swear you attempted to assault Eleanor and did assault Harold,” Rex said. “I'm declaring there is too little evidence to charge anyone with a crime. That's a good thing, Allie. Go home. Get some rest.”

“Come on.” Trent put his arm around my waist. “Let me walk you home.”

We stepped into the hallway and I stopped in front of Rex. “They tried to get rid of me because I suggested that Eleanor has a stronger motive to kill Carin than Paige does. How do you know they won't come after me again?”

“Because you told everyone here about your suspicions,” Rex said. “Hurting you now would only make them look guiltier. Go home, Allie. Get some rest.”

Trent walked me out of the admin building. He shook Mr. Childs's hand and the attorney headed back to his hotel. My shoes were still in
EVIDENCE
so my feet were bare. Officer Heyes came out of the station with a pair of disposable flip-flops in hand.