*****
Death by Chocolate Sundae
by
Constance Barker
Copyright 2015 Constance Barker
All rights reserved.
Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.
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Georgia summers can be brutal with all the heat and humidity, but that also increases my sales at The Frozen Scoop Ice Cream Shoppe I own. After the tumultuous spring, what with the murder of Miss Greta and the revelation that Trixie’s daughter committed the crime, it was nice to simply serve my customers and enjoy the company of friends.
“This humidity is killing my hair,” Stormi bellowed as she entered the Shoppe. “Not to mention the sweat pouring between my girls.”
Stormi was my best friend from high school and had no problem speaking her mind. She never married, but loved flirting with the opposite sex. She was a little chunky, with a creamy complexion and blond curls that cascaded down her back. She was a beautiful woman and her extra 20 pounds never bothered her. She was my co-worker at the shop and I loved having her here.
My Shoppe was located near the center of town in Caesars Creek, Georgia. I’d only owned it for about five months, buying it from a couple who wanted to retire and move to Arizona. The Shoppe contained around 10 tables with chairs, and a case filled with various ice cream concoctions. I painted the walls of my Shoppe pink and arranged pretty pink flowers in white vases on the tables. Around the walls and in the corners of the store I placed huge planters. No plastic plants for me however. I loved greenery so I decorated the Shoppe with hardy plants such as Ficus, rubber trees and spider plants. I even had a few hanging Boston ferns set in the corners of the Shoppe.
On the back wall was a huge mirror that gave the illusion of a larger store. The previous owners said they erected it 30 years ago when they first opened the ice cream Shoppe. They thought it brought them good luck and I wasn’t about to remove it, lest I bring bad luck to my new venture.
“Come in here where it’s always cool,” I beckoned Stormi as I put money in the register. “I love it when it’s hot because that means more customers.”
“You mean they don’t come in for your scrumptious ice cream concoctions?” Stormi teased.
“Well, that too,” I laughed.
Stormi was mine and my friend Paige’s savior the night Trixie’s daughter went loco in the Shoppe. If it hadn’t been for Stormi, I don’t want to think what would have happened to Paige and me.
Paige is my other close friend who comes in a few times a week to help. Her 16-year-old daughter Sam also helps as well, especially on the weekends. Bruce, Paige’s husband, works out of town a lot so it helps Paige to stay busy at the Shoppe when he’s gone. This evening Paige would be helping as Bruce left for New York on a business trip.
The day went by as expected, busy with the usual lulls, which allowed Stormi and I to sit and discuss the goings on in the town of Caesars Creek, Georgia.
“So are Trixie and Mr. Florez back from their honeymoon yet?” I asked.
Trixie and Mr. Florez became an item soon after Trixie’s daughter was arrested for murder. He was a strong shoulder for her to rely on and after on a few months of courting the two up and eloped. They were spending their honeymoon in the Bahamas where Trixie had always wanted to go but never had a chance to. Now she was living her dream with the man I always thought she was suited for. I was tickled for her. However, I also knew she was sad about her daughter. Trixie tried to visit her but Eileen didn’t want to see her. Maybe it was for the best.
“Yes they are.” Stormi answered as she took a sip of her afternoon coffee. “I saw her at the bank this morning and she’s absolutely glowing. She showed me pictures from their trip…what a beautiful place, so tropical. Trixie wore flowers in her hair in almost all the photos and of course, Mr. F. was beaming. They are just so cute!”
I laughed. It was nice to hear that something good came out of something terrible. As we continued to talk, Paige came in early.
“What are you doing here so soon?” Stormi asked.
Paige set her purse on the table. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“Of course darling, but aren’t you the soccer mom that bustles around from here to there?” Stormi teased.
“Not anymore,” Paige announced. “Daughter got her license. Of course now she wants to use my car to go everywhere. She’s working at the library a few days a week this summer so instead of me driving her, she’s driving me here and picking me up after she gets off this evening. I see another vehicle in our future as I’m not sure how much longer I can go without one.”
“Wow, she is growing up so fast,” I exclaimed. “Seems like yesterday Sam was playing with her dolls.”
“I know,” Paige answered. “Going a little too fast for this mom, but I’m just thankful she has a good head on her shoulders, unlike many of the kids in school.”
“Well, that’s because of her parents I think,” I said as I got up to freshen my coffee. “You want a cup?”
“Thanks for the compliment and no to the coffee,” Paige replied. “I’ve had four cups already today so I’ve met my quota.”
Stormi walked over to freshen her coffee as well. “I was telling Tara about seeing Trixie at the bank today and how she’s beaming.”
“That reminds me,” Paige said cutting in. “Mr. Jenkins filed a lawsuit against Parker Tractor Supply.”
“What?” Stormi croaked. “He barely hurt himself! He and his permanent scowl can take a flying leap.”
“That flying leap is what has the Parker’s in the hot seat,” Paige said.
Three weeks ago, Mr. Jenkins, resident scowl master and he of balding head fame, took a tumble at Parker’s Tractor Supply. The store has everything from nuts and bolts, to lawn mowers and tractors for sale. They have as much product outside the store as inside, especially the mowers, ATVs and grills. As Mr. Jenkins strode through looking at the mowers, he tripped and fell over a toy tractor left there by a boy whose mother told him she wasn’t buying it. Unfortunately, Mr. Jenkins laid there for almost 30 minutes before someone found him. His back went out and he required x-rays and an MRI to ensure no permanent damage. The Parker’s insurance paid for the medical bills, but now Jenkins was suing the store for negligence. I’m sure Mr. J. would sue the kid if he could, that’s just the sort of man he was.
“How can he sue the Parker’s for negligence?” I asked. “They didn’t know the boy left the toy tractor out there.”
“Who knows,” Paige replied. “He’s sue happy. Remember when he sued for pain and suffering and emotional distress after he fell in Landry’s Department store? He was living in Atlanta then and I heard he got a huge settlement out of the deal.”
“Yes but Parker’s isn’t a big chain like Landry’s. He could put them out of business,” I said. It made my blood boil to know people like Jenkins could get away with such things.
At that moment, Stormi’s brother Brandon walked into the Shoppe. Brandon was Stormi’s younger brother by three years. He was divorced with no children, like me. When Stormi and I were in high school, he was the bothersome little brother who liked to pull pranks on us, such as squirting us with his water guns or throwing worms in our faces. Typical boy stuff. There were times I wanted to knock some sense into that kid, but he had grown into a respectable and rather handsome man.
He married a woman from Atlanta who couldn’t settle into small town life. Eventually she got bored and cheated on Brandon. Their marriage lasted only two years. Brandon dated occasionally but not often. Stormi said he was very hurt by his ex and wasn’t in a hurry to be burned again. I couldn’t blame him. I was a divorcee as well and my marriage died a slow death. While he didn’t cheat or abuse me, the silence grew over powering and eventually created a chasm that neither one of us could repair. So I understood how Brandon felt about letting another person in.
“So how are you
lovely ladies today?” Brandon was also known to brighten our day since he grew out of his boyish ways.
“We are just fine dear brother,” Stormi answered. “What brings you by?”
“Well one of Tara’s specialty shakes of course,” Brandon answered. “I’ll take a chocolate peanut butter with no whip cream.”
“No whip cream!” Stormi admonished. “Trying to keep your girlish figure?”
“No, attempting to keep my masculine frame thank you very much. It’s hot out there and I had a craving for a shake.”
Brandon worked for a construction company, which had a job remodeling a store a few doors down from us.
“I’ll also need three vanillas and one strawberry shake to go.”
“So you’re the errand boy today huh?” Paige asked.
“I volunteered,” Brandon answered. “That way I could gossip with you hens.”
“Well we were just talking about Mr. Jenkins and his lawsuit,” Paige informed Brandon.
Brandon leaned against the ice cream case. “Yeah, I heard about that too. That old goat will squeeze every last dime out of the Parker’s. I hear he’s got some hot shot lawyer.”
“It’s the same one from the last lawsuit with Landry’s,” Paige revealed. “I think his name is Reginald Brooks.”
Stormi poured the rest of her coffee down the sink and rinsed the mug. “I wouldn’t doubt he’ll take them for everything they have. Teresa and Dan Parker have two kids in college and the store is just getting by since the economy slid downhill. Makes me so mad! I’d like to slap Mr. Jenkins into next week!”
“Simmer down now Sis. Eventually what comes around goes around and I have a feeling Mr. Jenkins will get his soon enough.”
We didn’t know it then, but Brandon’s words were about to come true.
*****
The evening crowd was enormous much to my delight, but my feet would argue. Standing for four hours straight without a break doesn’t do much to quiet my howling dogs, but my bank account loved it. Not that I was getting rich mind you, but the Shoppe was providing a nice living and allowing me to pay Stormi a decent wage as well. Around 8pm, Sam called her mother to say she was running late. She was staying to help close the library and prepare spreadsheets on their computers. She’d be by just as we were closing at 9pm.
The last hour, between 8 and 9 is usually slower, so the girls and I chatted behind the counter and waited on customers as they dribbled in. At a quarter till nine no one had come in for the last 15 minutes and Stormi suggested I close early.
“I don’t like doing that,” I said. “What if a regular customer comes by late wanting to order an ice cream cake? I could be losing out on a sale.”
Stormi shrugged. “Yes that’s true, but I kind of doubt it. Besides, most of your ice cream cake orders are done over the phone.”
Paige started to wipe down the tables. “Oh Storm, it’s only a few more minutes. What’s the harm?”
By that time, it was five minutes until closing and the door chime tinkled.
“See, what did I tell you,” I said to Stormi.
As we all looked at the person who entered the store, I more than ever wished I’d taken Stormi’s advice and closed early.
In walked Mr. Jenkins in all his balding glory. Stormi turned to Paige and said, “What’s the harm? It just waltzed in the door.”
Paige rolled her eyes.
Mr. Jenkins sauntered up to the counter and gave us his usual glare. “You’re still open right?”
“Yes we are Mr. Jenkins, but we’re getting ready to close,” I said. Stormi and Paige stood like sentries on either side of me.
“Well I want a double sundae with double chocolate and heavy on the whip cream,” he said.
“Is that to go?” I asked hopefully.
“No, I’m going to eat it here so it won’t be a runny mess by the time I get home,” he growled.
Stormi gave him the stink eye then proceeded to make his double chocolate sundae while I took his money and Paige wiped the glass on the ice cream case.
Stormi handed him the sundae and Mr. Jenkins proceeded to sit near the front of the shop. He then turned and asked, “Can I get a cup of water?”
“Sure,” I said. I brought him a small Dixie cup of water.
“That’s it?” He asked. “I need more than that to take my pills.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Let me get you another one.”
“Here,” Stormi said as she brought over two more cups and plopped them on the table.
We both turned and walked behind the counter where Paige was standing. “Isn’t he just lovely?”
“Oh well, he’ll eat his sundae and then be out of here and we can all go home,” I said taking money out of the register.
Paige lifted one foot. “I’ve got to get better shoes for working in here.”
“Girl, you need to wear tennis shoes when you‘re working,” Stormi admonished. “Those flats don’t have any arch support whatsoever.”
“I know, but they look cute,” Paige offered.
Stormi pointed at her pink tennis shoes. “I have it all, cute and comfort.”
Right then I glanced over at Mr. Jenkins to see how far along he was with his double chocolate sundae. To my horror, he’d done a face plant straight into the extra whipped cream! I tugged on Stormi’s arm who was still raving to Paige about the benefits of arch support.
“You’ve got to have arch support or you end up with flat feet…ummm…what is it Tara? Stop poking me.”
All I could do was point. The girls followed my finger straight to Mr. Jenkins.
“What the kajirger!” Stormi exclaimed.
“Umm, Mr. Jenkins…are you okay?” I asked from across the Shoppe
“Nope, he’s not,” Paige remarked as she grabbed the phone. “I’ll call 911.”
Stormi and I raced over to Mr. Jenkins. We both stopped, peering down at him unsure what to do next.
“Here, push him back,” I said as I nudged on his left shoulder. Stormi pushed on his right shoulder and Mr. Jenkins’ face came free of the sundae. His face was covered in whip cream and chocolate ice cream and his head continued to droop. Paige ran over with a wet cloth and wiped his face free of the melted gooiness.
“The ambulance is on their way,” Paige announced. “Stormi, you know CPR right?”
Stormi grimaced. “Yeah, I do….but I think we ought to wait for the ambulance.”
“Stormi!” Paige exclaimed. “You have to do something.”
“Ohhh, turd apples!! Get him on the floor!” Stormi barked. “I’ll beat on his chest but no way are my lips touching his withered rims!”
Paige and I laid him gently on the floor.
“You have to do mouth to mouth!” Paige exclaimed.
Stormi started compressions on his chest. “Here, you blow into his pie hole then!”
“Did we even check to see if he had a pulse?” I asked. “We may be putting the cart ahead of the horse.”
Stormi started to giggle uncontrollably as she continued compressions. When she got nervous, she giggled.
“Stop laughing Stormi,” Paige admonished.
“I can’t help it,” Stormi chortled. “Who’d have thought I’d ever be straddling Mr. Jenkins!”
With that, Paige let out a guffaw!
“Oh my Lord, what is wrong with us?” I blurted trying to stifle a hiccup snigger myself.
“Stormi stop it!” Paige chortled, trying in vain to contain it but it was no use.
“I’m (snort) trying! (snort).”
Her snorting made us laugh even harder. It’s not that we were laughing at Mr. Jenkins or the predicament…we were simply nervous, and instead of reacting in a composed adult fashion, we retreated into nervous giggling buffoons.
Fortunately we heard the sirens, which allowed us to regain our composure. Two police officers entered the Shoppe first, followed by the medics after the ambulance arrived. We were glad to let them take over as we walked
behind the ice cream case. A few minutes later Sam came through the door as they wheeled Mr. Jenkins into the ambulance.
“What’s going on? I saw the police cars and ambulance…it scared me!” She said running to her mother’s side.
Paige put an arm around her daughter‘s shoulders. “Mr. Jenkins had a heart attack or something. We’re not sure what happened, but he lost consciousness.”
The two police officers came over to ask questions regarding what happened. One police officer was about Stormi’s age, with short-cropped brown hair and brown eyes. Stormi immediately batted her long eyelashes at him. We explained what happened, minus the uncontrollable fits of laughter. We couldn’t add much as we didn’t actually see the moment he fell unconscious.
A Frozen Scoop of Murder - The Bundle Edition (Books One to Six): Cozy Mysteries Page 5