Here Comes the Fudge

by Nancy CoCo

  “Is that for the assistant fudge maker position?” Frances asked.

  “Yes, and it would be nice to get some help in here,” I said.

  “Agreed,” she said.

  “How’s the hiring going for the maid service?” I asked. With the bookings we had for the summer, I had calculated we could afford one. It would free Frances up to take reservations, to check people in and out, and to work on the accounting.

  “I think I’ve settled on Abby Blackbird’s service,” Frances said. “They weren’t the cheapest, but not the most expensive. I checked her references and people had nothing but glowing things to say about her.”

  “Great,” I said. “Can she start next week?”

  “Yes,” Frances said. “I’m paying her and her crew a flat fee, so if they finish early they can move on; then they won’t feel like they have to take their time for a by-the-hour fee. I heard she was fast, efficient, and everything would sparkle when she left, including the windows.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said. “I’m going to run to the post office. Do you have anything I should mail?”

  She pulled out a handful of bills. I added the notes I had and grabbed my jacket. “Have you seen, Mal? I thought I’d take her with me.”

  “I think your parents took her on their walk,” Frances said.

  “Oh right, okay then, I’m off,” I left from the back to head down the alleyway.

  Mr. Beecher was out for his daily walk. “Hello, Allie. Where’s my friend Mal?”

  “She went for a walk with my folks,” I said.

  “Ah, glad to hear your parents are here. Is it for Jenn’s wedding?”

  “It is,” I said. “Dad thought it would be nice to come in early and get settled before the rest of the guests. How are you today?”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “A little older and wiser perhaps.”

  “I hope I can say the same thing,” I said. “Say, do you walk by Jenn and Shane’s fixer-upper?”

  “I do,” he said. “Most evenings in fact. I have a routine. I suppose that would make it easy for bad guys to stalk me.” He shrugged. “But I don’t tend to attract bad guys in general. Why?”

  “Did you walk by there the evening Christopher Harris died?”

  “I did,” he said. “I believe it was around six-thirty or so. Why?”

  “Did you happen to see Peter Ramfield taking Shane to the house?”

  He frowned. “No, no, I don’t think I did. Why do you ask?”

  “Peter told me that he bought Shane a drink to talk to him about something and that Shane had been drinking previously and the drink made him drunk. So Peter took Shane to the fixer-upper to take a nap before he was to meet Jenn for dinner at eight.”

  “Ah, well, I can’t say that I saw either fellow that night. I do circle back around that route, though, so if they had been there between six and seven, I would most likely have seen them. That said, it doesn’t mean I didn’t miss them if they were earlier or later.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “How’s the investigation going?”

  “Not well,” I said. “I’ve come to dead ends. It seems no one saw Shane or Christopher and Becky after eight. So I can’t place their whereabouts between eight and eleven, when we found them.”

  “I’ll see if I can discover anything. When was the last time Christopher and Becky were seen?”

  “I believe it was around eight. They had finished dinner and were seen going into the art museum. Someone has to know where they went after that.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out for you,” he said. “Now, I need to let you get where you’re going before you die of heatstroke.”

  I laughed out loud. It was currently forty-five degrees Fahrenheit. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  The walk to the post office was short and I was in and out quickly. I decided to go to the newspaper office to see Liz.

  I walked inside. The newspaper office had a desk in the front, where Angus sat. He was a large square man with a snow-white beard and a half-bald head.

  “Well, if it isn’t the bad luck girl,” Angus said, his voice hoarse and slow.

  “Hi, Angus,” I said. “It’s good to see you. How are you feeling?”

  He put his lucky rabbit’s foot on top of the counter in front of him. “Better now.” Angus liked to tease that since I’d come to the island, old men had been dropping dead, and he used the good luck charm to chase away any of my bad juju. I figured he was mostly teasing me.

  “Is Liz in?” I asked.

  “She’s getting us lunch,” he said.

  “When do you expect her back?” I asked.

  “When she gets here,” he said gruffly. “Now, take your bad luck out of here.”

  I shook my head. “Well, if you see her, let her know I stopped by.”

  “Why don’t you just text her?” he asked. “Afraid to leave an electronic trail for whatever the two of you are up to?”

  “No.” I pulled out my phone and walked out. “Talk to you soon, Angus.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” he grumbled back.

  I ran into Liz as she walked up with white takeout bags in hand.

  “Hi,” Liz said. “What’s up? Where’s Mal?”

  “She’s with my folks,” I said. “Listen, I was wondering. . .”

  “Why don’t you come in and have some lunch with us?” Liz asked.

  “Oh no, thanks,” I said. “Angus gets worried whenever I get too close to him. So, really quick, do you have any connections to the nurses in Cheboygan?”

  “I do have a few,” she said.

  “I heard Becky was awake yesterday,” I said. “Any chance you can find out what she’s saying about what happened to her?”

  “That’s a great idea,” Liz said. “I’m on it. Are you sure you won’t stay for lunch?”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “Like I said, my folks are here. I figure they’ll want me to have lunch with them.

  “Okay, but it’s your loss. I’ll let you know the minute I learn anything.”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  The day was bright and the flowers had perked up. A glance at my phone told me my parents should be back because it was after eleven now. I wondered if Jenn’s parents were on the island. I’d met them once or twice when Jenn and I were in college together in Chicago. They seemed super nice and not at all as controlling as my mother was. They were outgoing and made me laugh every time. It made them easy to talk to about things. In truth, Jenn’s parents held a special place in my heart.

  I walked into the McMurphy and, sure enough, they had arrived. Jenn, her folks, my folks, and Mal were all sitting in the lobby, chatting and enjoying coffee and fudge.

  “Allie!” Mr. Christensen said and stood to give me a hug.

  “Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Christensen,” I said and gave them both a hug. “I see you’ve met my parents.”

  “We met them when we got back from our walk,” Mom said. “We were talking about us all going out for lunch. Do you want to come along?”

  “Can you give me about ten minutes?” I asked. “I need to wash the candy making off me and change my clothes.”

  “We can do that,” Mr. Christensen said. “Now that we’re on the island, we have no particular place to go. I like that feeling.”

  I checked in with Frances before I went upstairs. She and Douglas were having lunch in the back room. They were fine with me going with the families.

  Now that the fudge was all made, it was time to enjoy the company of family and friends, and ensure that everything with the wedding went off without a hitch. Which meant ensuring Shane was at the altar with Jenn.

  Vanilla Macadamia Nut Fudge

  Ingredients:

  24 ounces white chocolate

  14 ounces sweetened condensed milk

  2 tablespoons butter

  1 tablespoon vanilla

  1 cup chopped macadamia nuts

  Directions:

&n
bsp; In a medium microwave-safe bowl, combine chocolate, milk, and butter. Microwave on high, stopping every 30 seconds to stir, until chocolate and butter are melted and combined. Add vanilla and nuts.

  Pour into a parchment-lined, 8 x 8-inch pan. Chill until set. Cut into one-inch pieces. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator. Makes 32. Enjoy!

  Chapter 13

  Having closed the McMurphy to all guests except the wedding guests, it was a bit spooky inside. Almost as spooky as mid-January, when the place was empty except for a handful of weekends, when the ice fishermen came out.

  I was in my office when my phone rang and I jumped. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Allie, it’s Liz,” she said.

  “Hi, Liz. What’s up?”

  “I heard back from my source in Cheboygan,” she said.

  “Great! Did they know what Becky said? Does she remember who did this to her?”

  “That’s the thing,” Liz said. “It seems the trauma and the medical coma have blocked her memory.”

  “So, she has no idea who did it?”

  “None,” Liz said. “She says the last thing she remembers is holding Christopher’s hand as they strolled from Market Street to Main Street. She says it was around ten-ish.”

  “We found them at eleven,” I said. “Did she see Shane?”

  “That’s just it. She doesn’t remember Shane being there at all.”

  “Well, that’s the first good news I’ve heard,” I said. “Surely she would remember if Shane attacked her.”

  “The doctor said that when you get a blitz attack like they suffered, your brain goes straight into fight-or-flight mode and has little time to store memories. It’s why eyewitnesses are not always good at recalling the details of what happened.”

  “So even if she does get her memory back, it’s likely it won’t be correct,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Liz said. “It’s why we like to interview a lot of people and look for strands of commonality. Then we know that’s most likely a real thing that happened.”

  “Wow, do the police do the same thing?”

  “I imagine, so,” Liz said. “I learned that in journalism classes. I imagine they also teach it in Cop 101.”

  “Then this may or may not exonerate Shane,” I said.

  “It does mean that they still don’t have much of a case against him. It’s all circumstantial.”

  “Will you be reporting on this?” I asked.

  “I told Rex I’d wait until an arrest was made before doing anything more than putting it in the police blotter, giving the crime, the victims, and that the police were investigating.”

  “Okay, no wonder they brought Shane in yesterday and kept him there all day. They had to be searching for clues.”

  “Doesn’t Shane have a lawyer?” Liz asked.

  “Yes, he does, and the lawyer was most likely with him all day. Jenn says Shane wants to appear as being cooperative with the police,” I said.

  “Well, with the wedding getting closer, I certainly hope we can find the killer before Rex thinks he has enough evidence to put Shane away,” Liz said. “Oh, another thing . . .”

  “What’s that?”

  “With the tourist season starting this week, the mayor is really pushing Rex to get this crime solved and out of the way.”

  “Which means if all he has is Shane and circumstantial evidence, the mayor might get her way and Shane will be arrested.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully.

  “If we can’t figure out what really happened,” Liz said. “That would be the most likely scenario.”

  “Well, darn. Thanks, Liz,” I said. “See you at the bachelorette party.”

  “Cheers,” she said and hung up.

  So, Becky didn’t remember anything, but they wanted the killer to think she did. And they were pointing the finger at Shane. Someone else knew what happened. I just needed to figure out who it was.

  * * *

  With the family coming in starting the next day, I needed to ensure I had enough breakfast food on hand. I wasn’t sure how long we would be out at the bachelorette party, so I decided to make a list and head out to Doud’s Market to pick up continental breakfast food for tomorrow morning.

  Dad came down the stairs. “Allie, is there any coffee left?” It was the afternoon. I couldn’t drink more coffee if I wanted to sleep that night, but Dad never had that issue.

  “Fresh and hot,” I said. “I just made it. Also, tomorrow there’ll be doughnuts and a continental-style breakfast. I’m heading out to Doud’s now to pick up doughnuts and Danish and bagels, and some fruit and juice. Anything in particular you want?”

  “Yes, to take your puppy home,” he teased. “She’s so cute and smart.”

  Mal wagged her stump tail and sat at his feet expectantly.

  “You two have certainly become best buddies,” I said. “I barely got her to go to bed with me yesterday, the little traitor.”

  Dad laughed. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk her this afternoon.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” I said. “Keep an eye out for Mr. Beecher. He likes to walk through the alley. If you see him, tell him I said hi.”

  “Will do,” Dad said and took the coffee and Mal upstairs with him. I grabbed a tweed jacket to put over my sweater and jeans.

  I walked out into the sunshine. The sky was blue and Doud’s was only a few blocks from the McMurphy. I pulled open the door to the grocery store and Mary Emry nodded her hello. I grabbed a basket and headed straight to the bakery.

  “Wait, you don’t make your own baked goods?” It was Harry, standing near the doughnut cabinet with a box half full.

  “Hi to you, too,” I said. “I can make them, but I’m a bit busy today.” I grabbed a box and folded it so it could hold doughnuts.

  “Ah, that’s right, the wedding is keeping you busy. Are your parents enjoying their vacation?”

  “Yes. Mackinac Island is the best place to vacation,” I said. “Or staycation. Tomorrow all the relatives and friends are coming in, so I’m taking time off from cooking.” I filled my box with a dozen doughnuts and slipped it into my basket.

  “That sounds like fun. I take it you’re buying breakfast for tomorrow,” he said and pointed to my basket, which I was quickly filling with Danish and bagels as well as the doughnuts.

  “I guess I should have gotten a cart,” I said. I still had to get a variety of cream cheeses for the bagels, fruits, and fruit juices.

  “You can use mine.” He pushed his cart toward me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” he said.

  I took my stuff out of the overflowing basket, put it in his nearly empty cart, and handed the basket to him. He put his doughnuts in it.

  “See? Problem solved,” he said and smiled at me so brightly it warmed my heart.

  “How’s the paint job on your bed and breakfast going?”

  “They’re doing a great job,” he said. “They should be done today. If you have time, you should stop by to see it.”

  “I wish I had time. Maybe next week?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “So, I take it you are in the wedding?”

  “I am. Maid of honor,” I said.

  “Nice, and who’s the best man?” he asked.

  “Shane chose Rex Manning,” I said as I picked out the best bananas and oranges. Good fruit could be left out all day as a snack.

  “Ah, so he’s your date for the wedding?” Harry asked casually.

  “Yes,” I said as I moved toward the cream cheeses. “It’s traditional.”

  “Right,” he said and absently put some cream cheese in his basket. “So, do you like him?”

  “Who?” I asked as I filled my basket.

  “This Rex Manning,” Harry said.

  I turned to look Harry in the eye. “I do. Rex and I have this kind of... I don’t know. Thing? Anyway, we try to date and then something happens.”

  “Like what?” Harry asked.

  “Like s
omebody dies, or one of his ex-wives show up.”

  Harry winced. “Ex-wives?”

  “He has two,” I said. “Right now Melonie, wife number two, is on the island and making a play for him.”

  “Sounds like a guy who can’t commit,” Harry said. “If I found a beautiful woman who was interested in me, I would thank my lucky stars and do whatever it took to let her know she was the one for me.”

  I felt the tension rise between us.

  He broke it by shrugging. “But that’s just me.”

  He let me go first in line to pay for my stuff. We didn’t talk as Mary Emry rang us up. “See you tonight, Mary,” I said and waited for Harry to pay for his things so we could walk out together.

  “What’s tonight?” he asked.

  “Bachelorette party,” Mary said.

  “Sounds like fun,” he said.

  “I planned it to be,” I said.

  “Where’s it at?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “So I can stop by and see what a party looks like here on the island,” he said.

  “You can’t come,” I said. “It’s only for women.”

  “Right,” he said as he paid for his stuff and gathered up his bags. “Until the stripper gets there.”

  “There isn’t going to be a stripper,” I said and shook my head at Mary, who looked slightly horrified. “I promised Jenn that I wouldn’t do it. We’re going to try to be more dignified.”

  “Try?” he teased with a grin that made my heart melt.

  “Well, there will be an open bar,” I said. “After three hours, all bets are off.”

  “Too bad I won’t get to see it,” he teased again.

  “Oh, I’m sure someone will be gossiping the blow by blow,” I said. “Mackinac Island is a small town.”

  “That it is.” He tipped the bill of his baseball cap. “Have a great day, Allie.”

  “You, too,” I said and opened the door to the McMurphy as he strolled down the street.

  “Who is that?” Mom asked as she watched him out the window.

  “Harry Winston,” I said. “He just bought a bed and breakfast and is trying to make a go of it.”

  “I see,” Mom said. “He seems nice.”