Cream of Sweet (Chocolate Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Wendy Meadows

  Cream of Sweet

  Chocolate Cozy Mystery #1

  Wendy Meadows

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Be the First to Know

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Meadows

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Olivia stood off to the side of the town square, admiring the banner the young people had hung between two brick-faced buildings.

  Chester Fall Festival!

  The banner was as enthusiastic as she felt about the event. In a small town like Chester, it was pretty difficult to make a name as a chocolatier, even if the confections were little drops of heaven. The festival would give her a chance to showcase her chocolates, maybe bring in a few more customers to her budding business.

  “Woohoo!” Jana said, appearing beside her. “Looks like this is going to be one heck of a party!” She pumped her fist into the air, beads rattling on her arm. Jana Jujube was the newest addition to their town and the least likely of its inhabitants. She didn’t exactly fit in with the whole mid-west vibe, but she was likeable enough.

  If Olivia had learned anything in her forty-three years, it was not to judge a chocolate’s filling by its smooth—or crunchy, for that matter—exterior.

  “It’ll be great,” Olivia replied at last, “but it’s only three days to the start. We’d better get to work.”

  “As long as I get to work with you. I know Lizzy will be furious with anything I set up,” admitted Jana.

  “Are you still putting up a cuddle booth?” It was the strangest concept to the Chester dwellers—a booth to hand out hugs. Folks in these parts weren’t much for showing that kind of affection.

  “You bet I am. These people need hugs,” Jana said, jabbing her finger at a few of the passersby. “And I’m convinced enough cuddles will change their attitudes.”

  “That’s how I feel about my chocolates,” Olivia chuckled.

  They strode over to the other side of the square and began opening boxes. Dodger, Olivia’s pet Labrador, bounded around them, barking excitedly and making himself a genuine nuisance.

  “Dodger, stop that,” Olivia said, but there wasn’t any real heat in her scolding. He loved the outside, the brisk fall breeze and the happy sounds of people going about their business. She didn’t begrudge him that one bit, as long as he didn’t pull down any of the decorations. Dodger had a terrible habit of getting into messes and leaving Olivia to clean up after him.

  Jana stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the spot she’d put up her booth.

  Dodger rushed towards her and snuffled at her loose, tie-dyed pants, knocking her sideways a step. Jana giggled and rubbed the soft fur between his ears.

  “Dodger,” Olivia called, “don’t bother people.”

  “If you can’t keep that hound under control, why did you even bring him?” A sharp voice rang out from across the street.

  Olivia’s insides atrophied. Oh boy, this was it. The grand Lizzy Couture had arrived on the scene, wrath in tow, as usual.

  She rose and turned to face the head of the town council and reporter extraordinaire.

  Lizzy Couture had bright orange hair cut into a wicked bob. It looked as sharp as a knife at the ends, reminding Olivia of that Vogue editor. What was her name? “Anna Wintour,” she murmured.

  “Pardon?” Lizzy snapped, brushing hair from her eyes with bejeweled fingers.

  “Dodger isn’t bothering anyone,” Olivia replied.

  Dodger waggled his tail so hard his entire bottom moved from side to side. Jana petted him, shooting frantic smiles between Lizzy and Olivia.

  “Yet,” Lizzy snapped. “And what’s going on here? Why haven’t you set up any booths yet? The festival is three days away, Olivia Cloud. I expected better. Not from the likes of you, though, I’ll admit,” she said, folding her twig-thin arms.

  “From ‘the likes of me’? What’s that supposed to mean?” How rude! Olivia had done nothing but try to help.

  “It means you seem to be doing nothing to help, and I have absolutely no idea why you’re even here.” Lizzy glanced over her shoulder, checked that there weren’t any listeners, then stepped in closer and lowered her voice. “Your chocolates are garbage, anyway. They taste horrible.”

  “They do not,” Jana said loyally, frowning from nearby.

  Lizzy shot the hippy-wannabe a withering look, but Jana didn’t back down. “Do you really think that bossing people around is the best way to organize this event?” Jana asked.

  “I have no interest in your opinion,” Lizzy replied, brushing her hair again, rings sparkling. “No interest at all, especially from an outsider.”

  “What is this? The eighteenth century?”

  “That’s enough,” Olivia said quietly. Even Dodger stopped his frolicking and trotted over to stand at her side. He sat down on her foot, and she grimaced. “If there’s something you need, Lizzy, tell me, otherwise please stop wasting my time and let me get back to work.”

  “Wasting your time?” Lizzy asked, raising her voice. “Wasting your time?! How dare you?”

  “Calm down,” Olivia replied. Lizzy seemed unusually on edge today. Granted, she wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine on other days.

  “Calm down?! You’ve insulted me. I’ll speak to the council about this. There will be retribution.”

  “Eighteenth century,” Jana whispered under her breath, then jumped and hurried off to avoid Lizzy’s dagger-tipped glare.

  A crowd had gathered to watch the confrontation. This was exactly the kind of attention Olivia did not want. She’d barely set up the chocolate shop; it’d only been a year since her divorce, for heaven’s sake, and now this. An argument in the middle of town with a prominent citizen.

  “You are nothing but a… a…” Lizzy struggled for a word, which was surprising, given her vitriolic rants in the newspaper.

  “I believe this is our cue to leave, Dodger,” Olivia said. She clicked her fingers once, then headed through an alley between two buildings and out the other side. Lizzy’s furious shrieks followed her.

  Dodger pressed his ears flat, his golden eyebrows wriggling. “It’s all right,” Olivia said. “She’s obviously had a rough day.”

  Another shriek pierced the air. Make that a rough life.

  Olivia hurried back to her store, the Block-a-Choc Shoppe, and pushed open the wood-paneled front door, inset with glass panes.

  Alberta, her oldest assistant and good friend, stood behind the counter, serving cups of coffee and preparing chocolate treats. “There you are,” she said the minute Olivia and Dodger came through the door. Olivia strode; Dodger bounded. “How was the meeting?”

  Olivia walked to the counter and stood beside her, admiring the array of chocolates she�
��d whipped up that morning. “It was less a meeting and more a total breakdown in communications.”

  “Ah,” Alberta said, tapping the side of her nose. “Lizzy’s up to her usual nonsense?”

  “Oh, you could say that. Shrieking, swishing her hair around. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started setting up stakes or pyres or whatever it was they used to burn witches.”

  “Hmmph,” Alberta said, “there’s only one witch in Chester, and we all know who that is.” Alberta dusted off her hands and wriggled her eyebrows. “I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off that business, and Lizzy for that matter.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Albie!” she replied, “I am not going on another one of your dates.”

  “Suit yourself,” Alberta said with a small smile—the same one she’d worn after she’d been proven right about the popularity of hazelnut pralines.

  “I’m going to get started on the drops for the festival. You stay out here and serve the customers. And if I catch you anywhere near my personal planner, scheduling in ‘handsome’ dates, I’ll…” Olivia trailed off, then chuckled. “I’ll ban you from free coffee.”

  Alberta’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. “That’s a little bit harsh, dear.”

  Chapter Two

  “Come on, A’s,” Olivia said, gesturing for her two other assistants, the ever-quiet Alvira, and the new foreigner in town, Alphonsine, to gather round.

  She called her assistants the three A’s, or the three musketeers depending on what mood took her, because goodness, it was too much hassle to call out, “Alvira, Alphonsine, Alberta!” every time she needed them all together.

  Olivia lifted a clear glass bowl and set it on the counter in the kitchen.

  “What about Alberta?” Alphonsine asked in her heavy French accent. “She not want to learn the recipe?”

  “She’s serving the customers and has probably seen it before. Besides, you two are new. You need the practice, and I know you’ll love the ooey-gooey inside of my crème delight drops.”

  “Oh my,” Alvira whispered. She was the youngest of the three, barely nineteen, and incurably shy.

  “Right,” Olivia said, placing two fingers on the rim of the bowl, “so the festival is in three days, and we need to knock the socks off the locals. Are you two ready?”

  “Ready,” said the two A’s in unison.

  “Have you ever tasted crème eggs?” Olivia asked without waiting for the answer. “Well, these are similar but tastier, creamier, gooier. Oh gosh, I’m making myself drool.”

  “Oui, me too,” Alphonsine said and swallowed.

  “Will you please fetch me the confectioner’s sugar?” Olivia asked.

  Alvira hurried off to get it.

  “And I think I’ll need—”

  The kitchen door creaked open, and Alberta stuck her head through the gap, white as a… a bar of white chocolate. Her plum-colored hair wiggle-waggled from her trembling. “Um, Olivia?”

  “Yes, Albie?”

  “Uh, there’s a detective here to see you.”

  “Oh? What about?”

  “I think you’d better talk to him yourself,” Alberta replied, then shuffled out again.

  Olivia frowned and clicked her tongue. She spied the two A’s, both of whom had already put on clean, violet aprons, and sighed. “You two prepare the work station. I’ll be back in just a moment.”

  Olivia hurried out of the kitchen, not bothering to untie her apron. The town was practically abuzz with excitement, everyone was busy, and she barely had time to think. This was not the best moment for a meeting with a detective.

  Olivia met the officer at the front desk and shook his hand. “Hello,” she said with a grin. “I’m sorry, we don’t sell donuts, but I’d be happy to offer you a chocolate instead.”

  That was her best attempt at humor.

  It failed, miserably.

  The detective’s expression had been frosted into place, possibly by the brisk wind outside. Hard lines surrounded his eyes and mouth, and none of them were from smiling.

  “Miss Cloud?”

  “That’s me,” she said.

  “I’m Detective Keene. I need to ask you a few questions,” he said stiffly. He was as starched as his collar.

  “Sure,” she replied, “let’s step into my office.” She hoped to usher him out of sight before his frosty demeanor put off her customers, who were seated at the glass tables throughout the store.

  They entered the enclosed space, decorated with a fish tank against one wall and images of Chester back in the day on the other. Olivia had to force the door closed, since Dodger had gotten it into his head that this was his meeting, too.

  Finally, Olivia took her place at the desk.

  Detective Keene chose to stand.

  “How may I help?”

  “I need you to answer a few questions,” Keene replied, removing a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket.

  “Pertaining to what, exactly?”

  “The murder of Miss Lizzy Couture,” the detective said in a monotone.

  The entire room, the fish tank with its bubbles and bright pink stones, the historical photographs, swirled into motion. Olivia gripped the edges of her walnut desk to fight off the shock.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Lizzy Couture is dead,” Keene repeated.

  He clearly wasn’t one for sugar-coating anything.

  “How? Why?”

  “I hoped you’d be able to answer that, Miss Cloud,” he replied, placing the pad on the desk and finally settling into the puffy chair.

  “Why would I be able to answer that?”

  “Because Miss Couture died shortly after ingesting one of the chocolate drops you set out this morning for the council meeting.”

  “That’s impossible,” she replied. “I didn’t put out any chocolates this morning.”

  “I believe you are the only chocolatier in Chester?” Keene asked, not waiting for a reply. “Several witnesses saw one of your assistants delivering chocolates to the council meeting this morning, prior to your arrival.”

  Olivia racked her brain for answers. One of the A’s had taken chocolates to the town square? Of course! She’d asked Alphonsine to deliver a batch of their handmade treats as testers. She’d totally forgotten about it when she’d left for work that morning.

  “Did you have the chocolates delivered, Miss Cloud?”

  “Yes,” she replied, “but I didn’t poison anything, and neither did Alphonsine.”

  “Is Alphonsine here?” Keene asked, glancing at the office door behind him.

  The fish tank made blooping noises in the silence that followed.

  “Of course she’s here.” Alphonsine lived upstairs in Olivia’s spare bedroom. She was technically always in the building. “But Alphonsine had absolutely no reason to hurt Lizzy Couture. And neither did I, for that matter.” She frowned. She didn’t appreciate Keene’s frostiness or his accusations.

  She reconsidered offering him a coffee. Olivia suffered from a perpetually sunny disposition, except when she was pushed around by rude people.

  The Detective tapped the end of his pen against his pad and wriggled his nose. “We have witnesses who say they saw you and Miss Couture embroiled in an argument prior to her death.”

  “Embroiled is a harsh term to use. Lizzy took exception to my dog, Dodger, so we left before she could hit her stride.”

  “Hit her stride?” Keene asked, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean it’s no secret that Lizzy was a perfectionist. Or that she wasn’t well-liked. Honestly, I’m sure she fought with most of the people at the meeting this morning.” Olivia sighed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Detective, if there’s anything I can do to help make your job easier, let me know, but right now I have a lot of work to do.”

  “More chocolates to make?” Keene asked, and scanned the small office, as if he expected a bottle of poison to present itself.

&nbs
p; “Of course. That’s why it’s called the Block-a-Choc Shoppe—we’re chockablock full of the best treats in Chester.”

  “The best or the deadliest?” The detective asked, but in a mumble which she hadn’t been meant to hear.

  What a horrible individual!

  Olivia pushed back in her chair and rose.

  Keene followed suit. “I’ll be back,” he said. “Don’t leave Chester, Miss Cloud.”

  She folded her arms. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Chapter Three

  Olivia tapped her foot on the wide pine boards of the chocolate shop’s floor, eying the comfy couches in the corners, the glass tables arrayed throughout the space.

  Her very own shop. And there were customers in it, enjoying her chocolates, admiring the décor, and occasionally giving Dodger a pat on the head.

  Olivia should’ve been overjoyed, but Lizzy Couture’s death had cast a dark veil over everything.

  How could she be happy when she was a suspect in a murder case?

  The rude Detective Keene had left an hour before after scaring Alphonsine half to death, and Olivia had been unable to think of anything but the murder since then.

  “Now, don’t be mad…” Alberta said, appearing beside her. That was Alberta’s code for ‘I just did something you would not approve of, Olivia.’

  “Oh no, what is it now?”

  The last time Alberta had said that, Olivia had ended up foisting off yet another date with a potential suitor who’d had far too much facial hair and thought sandals appropriate footwear for a fancy restaurant.

  Alberta patted her plum hairdo. “I eavesdropped at the door. When you and that detective were talking?”

  “All right,” Olivia replied and chewed her bottom lip. “Where’s this going?”

  “I think I know someone who can help you get this problem sorted out.” Alberta tapped the side of her slightly hooked nose. She waggled her eyebrows up and down. “I’ve called a friend of my son’s to come down here and help you out. A private detective.”