Cream of Sweet (Chocolate Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Wendy Meadows

  Dodger let out a terrific bark, loud enough to rattle the doors.

  “No,” Olivia hissed and jangled his lead.

  But the Labrador had tuned her out. He growled and strained at the end of his leash, reaching back and biting at it frantically.

  “Dodger, what’s wrong?” Olivia whispered. This behavior wasn’t simple naughtiness; this was something else. “Dodgy?”

  Her beloved dog pulled on the end of the leash and it slipped from Olivia’s palm. Dodger took off down the sidewalk, then took a sharp right at the side of McGee’s workshop and disappeared.

  “What on earth?” Olivia chased after him, pumping her arms back and forth. Her lungs burned from the exertion. She was more of a chocolate-and-coffee woman, definitely not into running marathons—or even sprints for that matter.

  Olivia rounded the corner after her dog and pulled up short.

  Dodger scratched at the base of a shed nearby, growling and snuffling, digging up great clods of dirt and flicking them back towards a towering pile of planks.

  “What are you doing?” Olivia hurried up to him and grabbed the lead. It was slightly damp and covered in dirt. “Dodger, come away from there.”

  Panic built in her chest. What if Kinks came out here and heard the commotion? But no, the saw whined on in his workshop. He had no clue that her deranged, darling dog had taken offense to his work shed.

  “That’s enough!” Olivia snapped. Dodger finally stopped digging and looked up at her, his nose brown from the dirt. “What on earth has gotten into you?”

  Dodger whined and gave her the puppy-dog eyes which usually got him out of trouble. His nose twitched towards the base of the shed door again.

  Olivia wrinkled her brow at him and pursed her lips. No amount of ‘naughty boy’ stares seemed to help. Dodger wanted whatever was in that shed.

  “What is in that shed?” Olivia asked, quietly.

  The saw whirred on behind them, and the streets were relatively quiet, not a soul to witness a little breaking and entering.

  Olivia bit her bottom lip. “Don’t tell anyone,” she said to Dodger. He wagged his tail in encouragement.

  She grasped the rusty handle and tried it. Unlocked! The door swung inwards, stirring up dust from its base. Olivia coughed and waved a hand in front of her face, then reached inside and grabbed the string connected to the central light bulb.

  Clickity-click.

  Light flooded the tiny interior, and Olivia gasped. Dodger whined. They shared an owner-to-pet look of incredulity.

  The inside of the shack was stacked with pictures of Lizzy Couture. Pictures in frames or taped to the walls. A photograph on a shelf been scratched out in bright red ink. Every single image had been damaged—some had their eyes removed, others had teeth blacked out or the heads chopped off. Curse words were scrawled across some of them in different shades of ink.

  “Oh my,” Olivia said. She brought her cell phone out of her pocket and swiped her finger on the screen to unlock it. “Oh my goodness.”

  Kinks McGee hadn’t let on just how much he had hated Lizzy Couture. This wasn’t normal, not even a little bit. Kinks was obsessed.

  The saw cut off in the workshop and Olivia hopped up and down on the spot. “Better make this quick.”

  She snapped a few pictures of the shrine, then reached in and clicked the light off. She rammed the shed door shut and dragged Dodger away from the construction. He trotted along happily beside her now, but Olivia didn’t have time to ponder that.

  She hit the sidewalk, paused, and sent the images straight to Jake’s phone, with the caption:

  Meet me in the town square in twenty-five minutes. Don’t be late.

  “These will give the cops something to think about,” she said. “C’mon Dodgy, let’s get you back home. I’ve got to go out again.”

  Dodger barked a complaint, but he came along anyway. It was almost his dinner time, after all.

  Chapter Nine

  “And you just happened to spot McGee’s shed, wide open and waiting for investigation?” Jake asked, shrugging his shoulders to adjust his coat. He zipped it closed then shook his head. “You’ve got to learn what is and isn’t allowed, Olivia. You can’t just break into people’s sheds.”

  “It was unlocked,” Olivia said, “and in my defense, look at what I found in there. The man clearly had a huge issue with Lizzy. Bigger than what he’d let on.”

  “You know that evidence isn’t permissible in court. I can’t even send it to the cops,” Jake said.

  “Why not? I could’ve been a random passerby who heard a noise and decided to investigate,” Olivia replied. She refused to feel guilty about this. Kinks was dangerous, and that was the end of it. She stamped her feet and looked around the town square.

  The festival was only a day away, and she had a lot of chocolates to make before then.

  “Are we going to get started?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes, we can get started,” Jake replied, but he grumbled it. The fall breeze whipped the front of his soft brown hair into a cowlick. “It’s almost dark.”

  “Well? Where did it happen?” Olivia asked, then shuddered and stroked her arms. Not from the cold, but because Lizzy Couture had keeled over and died in the vicinity. She’d been a terrible person, by all accounts, but that didn’t make her death any less tragic or her killer any less evil. Justice had to be served.

  “Right over there,” Jake said, gesturing to the area beside the tables.

  The square had been cordoned off to prevent the locals from driving through it, and in the interim, decorations had flowered from every quaint lamppost—huge fake leaves in hues of red, gold and orange. Pumpkins were organized alongside the road, most of them hollowed out to accommodate candles. There were strings of lights hanging from the trees, which were beautiful enough to serve as decorations themselves.

  Olivia looked at the steel trestle tables where her chocolates would be displayed the following day. “Great. She died right beside my station? No wonder the police think I’m a suspect.”

  They strode towards the table, their upper arms brushing every second step. Olivia tried not to focus on the squirming sensation in her stomach. For heaven’s sake, she was a woman, not a teenager.

  “Right here,” Jake said, making an outline with his finger in the air above the crime scene. “And it was definitely thanks to one of your chocolates. I saw the toxicology report. Milk chocolate and arsenic. Not exactly the best combination for luxury food.”

  Olivia sighed. “Do we know anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Jake replied, then pointed to a spot in the mud, beneath a tree, its roots poking out of a square of rough dirt. “They found a footprint in the mud, right beside the table. A men’s size 13 shoe.”

  Olivia licked her lips and eyed the square of dirt. “That’s doesn’t help us much.”

  Jake shrugged and tucked his hands under his arms. “It’s the best lead we have right now. Size 13 shoes and killed by poison in your chocolate.”

  “Not my poison,” Olivia said.

  “Of course not, but it was your chocolate. That means that someone with a size 13 shoe had access to both poison and your chocolates. Any ideas?” Jake Morgan walked around the table and to the tree. He stared at the mud where the footprint had been.

  “No, I don’t.” Olivia reached up and undid her hair, then tied it up again. “I don’t employ any men with size 13 shoes. Besides, this doesn’t seem like concrete evidence to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just because it’s a size 13 shoe doesn’t mean that the person wearing those shoes actually fit into them, nor that it was actually the killer who left that footprint in the mud. Anyone can go to a store, buy a pair of those shoes and flop around in them. It could be a man or a woman. This tells us nothing,” Olivia said.

  Jake turned from his spot beside the tree and met her gaze, his forehead crinkling. “You’re right. I’ll keep my eye out for information. Hey, maybe Kinks McGe
e wears size 13. You never know.”

  Olivia nodded. “You never know.” But doubt burrowed in the center of her stomach. She checked her watch and winced. “I have to get back to the shop. I need to get started on those chocolates.”

  “I’ll walk you back,” Jake said, moving to her side again. He smiled at her and offered his arm, always the gentleman.

  Olivia took it, and they hurried across the town square, tucking their chins to their chests to avoid the gusting wind. Leaves swirled around their feet, and Olivia tried focusing on them to distract herself.

  It could’ve been Kinks or Jana or even, heaven forbid, her dear assistant, Alphonsine. So many possibilities and no leads to solve the case. Ugh! She had to forget about Lizzy Couture and the case for a while, or she’d never finish the chocolate drops for the festival.

  Finally, they reached the front of the shop. Olivia glanced up at the window, but Dodger wasn’t there. She’d likely find him sulking on her bed, dirtying the sheets and shedding everywhere.

  She smiled at the thought.

  “You’re beautiful when you smile,” Jake said.

  Olivia’s cheeks grew hot, redder than strawberry filling. “I – oh, uh,” she stammered. She’d never been good with compliments. Compliments from super handsome private detectives? She was totally out of her depth.

  “Olivia, I wondered if maybe you’d like to—”

  The door to the Block-a-Choc Shoppe slammed open, and warm air gushed from the interior. Light splayed across them. “There you are!” Alberta said, bustling out into the cold. She yelped and took a step back, then gave Jake an appraising look. Her gaze rested on their linked arms for a second longer than it should have. “We’re just about ready to close up for the day, dear.”

  “I… yes, thank you, Albie.” Olivia sucked in a breath of the crisp night air, icing her throat. Coolness spread through her chest, but two hot spots remained on the apples of her cheeks. She slipped her arm from Jake’s grip and smiled at him. “Thanks Jake, I’ll see you soon.”

  “Sure,” he said, “I’ll call you if I get any news from the cops about Kinks’ shed.”

  Olivia waved once and hurried into the warm interior of her store, her heart threatening to pound right out of her chest. The door swung shut, the bell above it tinkled, and Alberta drew the lock and flipped the sign on the door to ‘CLOSED.’

  Alphonsine and Alvira stood behind the counter, both with their eyebrows arched and lips pursed.

  “What?” Olivia asked, innocently. “We were just walking.” She didn’t have a reason to be defensive, yet that was exactly what she was.

  “Uh huh,” Alberta said, walking up behind her. She patted Olivia on the back. “Now that the romance portion of the evening has ended, perhaps we’d better get to some chocolate-making.”

  Olivia closed her eyes and rubbed the skin in the center of her forehead. Arguing with Alberta about the ‘romance’ would be a pointless venture. Besides, she’d promised to show them her secret recipe for ganache filling, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so. “Fine, but if you all insist on working overtime, it will be on two conditions.”

  Alberta hurried to join the other A’s. “And what are those, dear?” she asked.

  Olivia ticked them off on her fingers. “First, I’ll be paying you overtime, no arguments. Second, no one mentions romance, Jake Morgan, or anything related to the murder case. Got it?”

  “Got it!” they said in unison. Three completely different women, joined by their love of chocolate. Alphonsine gave a thumbs-up, and Alvira wrung her hands together, bowing her head slightly.

  “Good. Now, let’s get started.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Can you believe it?” Olivia asked, grabbing a paper towel from the roll. She tore it off and wiped a blob of chocolate off her apron.

  The three A’s stood at their stations, making chocolate, pouring it into molds or mixing ganache.

  “Maybe it’s the town’s way of getting over her death,” Alvira said, softly. The girl had a voice of velvet. If a fight ever broke out in the shop, Olivia would call this A to calm the situation.

  “The Fall Festival must go on,” Alberta said, brandishing her whisk. “Murder or no murder, this is a tradition, it’s a celebration. Nothing can stop the Chester Fall Festival.”

  “Still, I don’t like it. It’s in poor taste. A woman just died,” Olivia said. She was tempted to lick the chocolate off the paper towel but dumped it in the trash can instead.

  “Ah, but no one like zee woman, oui? So why stop zee festival?” Alphonsine asked.

  Olivia rubbed the back of her neck. All this talk about the murder during chocolate-making made her nervous. She rolled her shoulders, then dusted off her palms on her apron. “I’m going to take a quick break, ladies. Are you going to be all right down here for a few minutes?”

  “No, we will explode zee kitchen,” Alphonsine said, a sneaky smile creeping onto her lips.

  “Yes, yes, dear, go take a break,” Alberta replied, then swatted Alphonsine on the shoulder. The Frenchwoman giggled and returned to stirring the pot. (Excuse the pun.)

  Olivia waggled her finger at the three of them, a last-ditch attempt at a warning, then strode off. She hurried upstairs, her belly grumbling complaints. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and it was already past seven p.m.

  She strode down the hall that led past Alphonsine’s room and the master bedroom, its door open and the interior dark, and to the kitchen at the far end. She clicked on the light and blinked, adjusting to the sudden change.

  Dodger’s bowl sat beside the fridge, licked clean of his Tasty Dog treats. He’d managed to slop water onto the floor, as usual.

  “Oh Dodgy,” she whispered, then shook her head. Speaking of her hound, she hadn’t seen him since she’d left the shop with the hunky, ahem, handsome—no, just a detective.

  “Dodger,” Olivia said loudly. “Come on, boy. I’m making dinner.” Sometimes she cooked a piece of steak for dinner and gave him a piece, as a treat. He deserved it after missing out on an evening walk and for leading her to Kinks McGee’s shrine of Couture hate.

  Olivia turned and peered back down the hall. Silence reigned. No sign of her dog.

  He couldn’t have padded down into the store. She’d installed a security gate at the top of the stairs, and another at the bottom, just in case he got creative and managed to get through.

  “Dodger?” Olivia walked down the hall and frowned. She stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, just across from the door to her bedroom. “Dodger, come out, right this minute.”

  But her dog didn’t run out of the bedroom, his tail wagging, his tongue lolling from the corner of his ever-slobbery mouth. Fear streaked through Olivia’s heart. Dodger was her everything. Sebastian hardly ever called, and she’d long since given up on dating.

  “Dodger!”

  Olivia hurried into her bedroom and switched on her bedside lamp. Dodger’s dog bed was empty, and the windows were shut tight. He couldn’t have gone anywhere. Panic enfolded Olivia’s thoughts.

  What if he’d broken out somehow and managed to lose himself in Chester? He wasn’t used to the town yet, and she didn’t know or trust any of the locals to return him.

  Olivia ran down the hall, toward the gate at the top of the stairs. “Dodger!”

  A bark, followed by snuffling noises.

  Olivia froze and listened carefully. The door to Alphonsine’s bedroom juddered in its frame, scratches rocking the wood back and forth. Dodger barked again, then whined and sniffed at the crack, his pink tongue appearing for a second.

  “There you are!” Olivia said. “That’s a relief. What are you doing in there, you naughty dog?” She hurried to Alphonsine’s room and opened the door. The Frenchwoman’s bedroom light was on, illuminating the carnage of Dodger’s prolonged stay.

  “What have you done, Dodger?” Olivia groaned and pressed her palm to her face.

  Somehow, her goofy dog had managed to knock over
Alphonsine’s makeup bag. Tubes of mascara rolled across the floor, powder splattered the boards in every shade imaginable, and in the corner…

  “What the—?” Olivia whispered. She walked to the bed and stared at the pair of shoes beside it.

  They definitely didn’t belong to Alphonsine. They were muddied and far too big. Olivia swept down and picked one of them up by the heel, then flipped it over to look at the tread.

  “Size 13,” Olivia said, then swallowed. Dodger barked and trotted out of the bedroom, heading for his bed, now that his work was done.

  Why would Alphonsine have a pair of men’s shoes in her room? Olivia placed the shoe back where she’d found it. She chewed the corner of her bottom lip, then ran her hand over the top of her head.

  This wasn’t good.

  She didn’t want to believe Alphonsine had anything to do with the murder, but why did she have men’s shoes in her bedroom? Alphonsine didn’t have a boyfriend, and Olivia had asked that she notify her if she planned to have guests over.

  It didn’t matter whether this was evidence or not, Olivia had to speak to her boarder about this.

  Olivia turned and hurried out of the room, then closed the door behind her to stop Dodger from interfering again. She opened the gate at the top of the stairs, stepped through then shut it behind her before hurrying downstairs, butterflies assaulting the lining of her stomach.

  She stepped into the kitchen, and a rush of activity greeted her.

  The three A’s had managed to create an entire tray of drops in her absence. All three women were spotless, not a drop of chocolate was spilled, and they wore triumphant grins.

  “That’s wonderful,” Olivia said. “I think that’s enough for one day. It’s getting late.”

  “Oh, we can stick around a little longer,” Alberta said.

  “No, no, that’s quite fine. I, uh, you’ve done enough for one night,” Olivia said. She tried to put on a smile, but she couldn’t concentrate. “Alphonsine? Would you mind coming upstairs with me? I need to talk to you about something.”