Alphonsine dusted off her hands, then shrugged. “Oui, I will come in a moment,” she said. Then gestured to the mess in the sink. “I should clean zis first?”
“No, leave that for later. This is more important,” Olivia replied, then beckoned for her to follow.
Alphonsine paled, glanced left and right at the other A’s, then followed in Olivia’s footsteps.
Chapter Eleven
“What ‘appened?” Alphonsine asked as she rushed into her bedroom. She knelt on the floor and grabbed an eyeliner pencil from a patch of crushed powder. Eyeshadow pawprints tracked across the floorboards, from the door to the bed, to the small desk in the corner.
“Dodger got in here. I’m really not sure how he did it, to be honest, but I’ll help you clean it all up, and I’ll reimburse you for the ruined makeup,” Olivia said. She did feel terrible about that, but there was a more pressing matter to attend to.
Alphonsine sighed and collected a tube of mascara from next to the pair of shoes.
“Alphonsine?” Olivia said, then took a deep breath. She hated confrontation, even when it was absolutely necessary. She didn’t want to upset her newest assistant. She’d been nothing but lovely since her arrival. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Oui?” She replied, still kneeling in the middle of the floor, powder on her knees and clutching the tubes and pencils in one hand. “What is it?”
“I hope this doesn’t upset you, but we need to talk about the rules in this house.”
Alphonsine swallowed. “The rules?”
“Yes,” Olivia said, then walked to the chair beside the desk and lowered herself into it. “You know that I am overjoyed to have you here. You’re amazing with Dodger, even though he can be a bit of a terror sometimes.”
“I love him,” the Frenchwoman replied. “In Lyon I had a little doggy of my own. I miss him so terrible.”
“Yes, and I’ve been lonely ever since Sebastian left for college, and you being here has been amazing.” Olivia cleared her throat. “But there are rules for living here, and one of them is no male visitors.”
Alphonsine pressed her lips together. “I have not had any visitor!”
Olivia gestured to the pair of shoes beside the bed. Alphonsine looked at them, grimaced and gulped again.
“Please don’t lie to me, Alphonsine, I just want to talk about it. You’re not in any trouble. I’m not going to kick you out.”
Alphonsine bit the nail of her index finger, but didn’t reply.
“Look, it’s just that I’m a very private person, and I like to have control of my home. I don’t want strangers traipsing through my chocolate shop to come up here. Do you understand?” She couldn’t accuse her assistant of consorting with a murderer, but she had to find out who’d been in her home.
That person, male or female, was a suspect in the murder case, for sure. The muddied shoes were damning evidence. And whoever it was had had access to her store and the chocolates.
“I’m sorry. Je suis vremaint désolé. I bring my, uh, I bring my cousin up here to see the room and the shop.” Alphonsine continued biting on her nail, glancing askance at the shoes.
Olivia sighed. “Tell me the truth, Alph. We’re friends, even though you work for me. I want to understand why you broke the rules.”
Her assistant bowed her head and dropped her makeup into her lap. “I am in love. I am sorry, Madame. I fell in love with the man, and I asked him to leave after a fight.”
“All right,” Olivia replied. “Please, don’t bring another visitor here without permission.”
“I will not. I swear it. Never again! It is over now between the man and me.” Tears dropped from Alphonsine’s cheeks and into her lap, splattering her apron.
“Oh no, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Olivia said, and lurched out of her chair. That was the last thing she’d wanted.
Alphonsine shook her head wordlessly and swiped the tears from beneath her eyes.
It would be in poor taste to ask her the man’s name now. Still, Olivia had to know who had been in her home and wore size 13 men’s shoes. “Alph?”
The Frenchwomen met her gaze, her chin trembling. “Oui?”
“Could you tell me who it was? Who was in your room and when?” Olivia asked, and guilt tumbled around in the back of her mind. It wasn’t fair to expect Alphonsine to snap out of her sorrow and answer questions about her relationship.
Olivia glanced towards the door, which stood wide open, and to the gate at the top of the stairs. It was locked up tight, and the staircase beyond it lay in darkness. She shuddered, uncomfortable for the first time in her own home.
The murderer might have been up here.
“Alphonsine?”
The Frenchwoman shook her head. She didn’t want to open her mouth to speak. Instead, she burst into tears and buried her face in her palms.
Oh boy, Olivia had done it this time. She knocked once on the wooden table. “All right, perhaps we’d better talk about this another time, once you’ve calmed down.”
The Frenchwoman didn’t look up, sobbing hard enough that her wails filled the space in the room.
Olivia wasn’t good with a lot of noise, and the sounds of sorrow were practically unbearable.
“I’ll leave you alone,” she said, “but please let me know if you need anything at all. I’ll be in the kitchen, making a cup of tea if you want to join me.”
Alphonsine didn’t give any sign she’d heard what Olivia had said. She cried on, hiccupping and dribbling tears and snot.
Olivia cleared her throat, awkward as could be, then shuffled out of the room and into the hall. She closed the door behind her to give the Frenchwoman a bit of privacy. Perhaps she had pushed too hard this time, but it was only because she needed answers about Lizzy Couture’s death.
As sad as Alphonsine’s break-up was, it didn’t come close to the sorrow of losing a family member. Or the wrongness of taking a life.
Olivia let go of the brass door handle and wiped her hands on her apron, smearing a bit of the chocolate down her front. She rolled her eyes at herself, then traipsed to the kitchen to make herself that tea.
Her mind burned with the possibilities. Alphonsine had been involved with a suspect, that seemed sure, but what if that suspect was actually the culprit? What if Alphonsine hadn’t had a visitor but had killed Lizzy herself and had worn the shoes to throw the cops off her tracks?
“Don’t be horrible,” Olivia said, scolding herself. She clicked on the kettle and listened to the warm hum of boiling water. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s lovely.”
But the doubt sprouted in Olivia’s mind. Perhaps Alphonsine had done it and regretted her actions. That would explain the excessive crying.
Olivia shook her head to clear the horrid thoughts right out of it. She didn’t have any proof of that yet. The only lead she could follow was that of a man with size 13 shoes and a deep dislike of Lizzy Couture.
A lot of men met those criteria, unfortunately.
Chapter Twelve
Olivia stood on the sidewalk, phone pressed to her ear and Dodger dragging at the end of the leash. She tugged once, and he settled down for the briefest moment, then resumed his incessant pulling, whining and collar-scratching.
“It’s him. I’m sure of it,” she said into her phone.
Jake coughed and spluttered on the other end of the line. “Gosh, Olivia, you sure know how to keep a man on his toes. Hold on a sec, I just sprayed coffee all over my desk.”
Olivia tapped her foot and waited for Jake to finish his clean-up. The scrape and click on the other end of the line came through, and she straightened.
“You were saying?” The investigator asked and didn’t bother hiding the exhaustion in his tone.
“It’s not my fault evidence keeps falling into my lap, Mr. Morgan,” Olivia said sternly. “I’m just minding my own business and—”
“The Fall Festival starts tomorrow, Olivia. Shouldn’t you b
e making chocolates for the festivities?”
“I would be able to if you weren’t languishing at your desk instead of following through on our leads,” she replied coolly.
Dodger stopped shuffling around and barked at her instead. He didn’t like it when she took that tone.
“Wow, Olivia, relax, please. I know this is important to you and that you’re determined to see it through, but you can’t go around accusing people of murder without the evidence to back it up.” Jake paused, then continued, “Actually, you can’t go around accusing people of murder at all. That’s not your job.”
“Kinks McGee is the only option,” Olivia replied. “Look, the Festival is tomorrow; the sooner we get this case wrapped up, the better.”
“So, you’re going to rush this so you can get it ‘wrapped up?’ No, Olivia. I can’t let you do this.”
“You can’t let me do this?” Olivia clicked her tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jake. If you think I’m doing the wrong thing, come down here and talk to me about it. I’ll be over at Kinks’ workshop.”
“Olivia, wait. Just think about this for a moment. There’s no proof that Kinks was the guy who visited Alphonsine. For heaven’s sake, we don’t even know the shoes from her bedroom are a match. At least let the police check that out first.”
But Olivia didn’t want to hear his excuses. This had to get done and out of the way. If Jake didn’t want to follow through, then she would.
She could do this.
“Olivia, I’m warning you—”
“Don’t bother. Honestly, Jake, I expected better from you,” she said, then hung up.
She flicked Dodger’s leash once, unable to shake the sense of shame. She really liked the private investigator, but he clouded her vision. And Olivia Cloud refused to be, well, clouded. She’d spent years of her life overshadowed by her ex, and she’d break that habit at any cost.
“Come on, Dodgy, let’s do this.” She strode across the street and towards the workshop.
Kinks McGee’s doors were thrown wide open, and the man himself—ahem, the accused—strode back and forth, from bench to bench, carrying wood, pausing only to wipe sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Kinks,” Olivia called out. She stopped and waited at the threshold of his workshop. The last time she’d gone inside with Dodger, he’d trashed half the place. She didn’t plan on doing that again.
The carpenter froze mid-movement. He turned, froze, and snorted at the sight of her. “Whaddaya want?”
Wow, that was a nice way to greet a person. But then, she should’ve expected as much from a murderer.
“I need to talk to you about what happened to Lizzy,” Olivia replied and squared her shoulders. Dodger sat, then lowered himself into a lying position. This was unheard of on a walk—what had gotten into him?
“I aint talkin’ ter you about nothin’,” Kinks growled.
Oh boy, she’d hoped this would be a bit easier.
“I know you were at my house the other night, Kinks. I know all about Alphonsine and the shoes. The mud. The murder,” Olivia said, ticking off the counts on her fingers.
Kinks’ expression darkened. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He raked his fingers over the top of his head, a nervous tic for sure.
“Of course you do,” Olivia said. “You murdered Lizzy Couture in cold blood. I found your hateful shrine in the shed out back.”
Kinks went red from head to toe. He shuffled toward her a step. “And what are you doin’ wanderin’ around my shed?” he thundered. “You got no right!”
Looked like Olivia might be getting a hate shrine of her own sometime soon.
“And you had no right to have an affair with my assistant, in my own home.” Olivia narrowed her eyes at the man. Dodger barked his support for her cause, then turned in a circle and tangled his leash.
Olivia bent and tried to untangle him.
“Woman,” McGee said, “you’ve lost your darn mind. I haven’t, I don’t...” Kinks’ cheeks had gone from tomato red to beetroot purple. He’d likely bust a vein if this continued.
“Oh yeah? Then how come I found your shoes in Alphonsine’s bedroom? The exact same size shoes as those worn by the killer. A size thirteen!” Olivia jerked at the leash, but Dodger spun in another circle and tangled it even more.
“I’m a size eleven, ya crazy coot.” And Kinks cleared his throat. “A size eleven isn’t a bad size to be.”
Olivia’s insides froze. She stopped tugging on Dodger’s leash and shifted her gaze to Kinks’ feet instead. A fine layer of sawdust covered his work boots, and he stamped them on the concrete floor.
They didn’t look size thirteen, after all. Or did they?
Olivia sniffed and straightened. “I’m going to need you to prove that.”
“What? How?” Kinks took a step back and shook his head. Apparently, the shock had sucked the yells right out of his lungs.
“Take off your shoe and show me the size.”
Kinks’ mouth flapped open and closed. He gulped air, and the color drained from his face. “You are crazy.”
“Look, Kinks, I’m not going to let this lie.” Dodger barked and dragged at the end of the leash. He stumbled over the twisted knot of cord at his paws.
“Woman, I ain’t takin’ off my shoes for you.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Not both shoes,” she said. “Just one.”
A siren whooped behind her, and red and blue lights flashed. She glanced over her shoulder and grimaced. Backup had arrived, and it wasn’t for her.
That meant Jake had called them. Did he think she’d mess this up? He wasn’t wrong.
A car door slammed, and Detective Keene strode up the sidewalk toward them.
Olivia’s stomach sank into the bottoms of her shoes. Dodger barked once, twice, and then sat down on top of his twisted leash.
“Miss Cloud,” Detective Keene said in a ‘we meet again’ voice. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me now.”
Chapter Thirteen
Detective Keene marched Olivia through the front door of her shop and positioned her in front of the counter.
“What’s the big idea?” she asked. “I was just out for a stroll.” But she couldn’t hide the blush from her cheeks. It’d taken her five minutes to untangle Dodger’s leash, and during that time, Kinks had rejoiced in the opportunity to tell Keene all about her accusations.
“Miss Cloud, it is not your place to investigate this case.” Keene’s voice shook with anger. His brow wrinkled, and he glared at her. “If I catch you interfering again, I’ll have to arrest you.”
“Arrest me?” Olivia’s jaw dropped. “For what?”
“Obstructing justice, harassment, and making my job difficult.” Keene’s lips thinned into a white line. “I can’t focus on the investigation if I have to keep checking on you.”
“Then don’t,” Olivia said and smiled. She’d messed up on this one. Silly Olivia, who thought she could handle it all.
Perhaps Jake was right. She’d been too impulsive this time around. But only this time around. Every other time, she was totally level-headed, she told herself.
Detective Keene paced back to the front door. “Miss Cloud, if I have to come out to stop you interfering one more time, it will end in your arrest.”
“But—”
“Good evening, ma’am,” he said, then strode out of the front door and into the night.
Olivia sighed and stroked her forehead. Dodger whined.
“All right, all right,” she said. “Just a second.” She walked him to the stairs, then hurried to the top and let him into the apartment. She closed the door behind her precious pooch, then traipsed back down into the shop.
A strong cup of coffee was in order. And a dozen chocolates.
“Knock, knock,” a man called from the front.
Olivia froze and drew in a deep breath. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Jake Morgan stepped i
nto the shop and placed his fists on his hips. “I came to check on you,” he replied. “I worried that—”
“That I’d been arrested? Luckily, not. Though, it was touch and go for a moment there. I wonder whose fault that was?” Olivia paced to the coffee machine and poured out a cup. She placed it on the tray, then speared Jake with a gaze.
“I had to do the right thing, Olivia. You can understand that,” he replied.
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. He had a point. She’d been reckless and irresponsible. She’d jumped the gun, so to speak, and accused a man of murder.
Olivia’s cheeks flushed again. She fanned them, then sighed. “I can understand,” she said at last.
Jake’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead.
“Oh, come on. It’s not that surprising that I can be reasonable. Sometimes.” Olivia burst into laughter, then brought out a cup for the investigator. “Would you like some?”
“I probably shouldn’t, but why not?” He brushed off the front of his shirt, then swaggered to the counter. “Got any chocolates to go with that?”
“Help yourself,” Olivia said. “I usually make them fresh each day, and whatever’s left at the end of the day, I either donate to charity or give to the A’s.”
“I see,” Jake said, mirth skipping across his lips.
Olivia grabbed a few of the trays from underneath the glass counter and placed them on top of it.
“What are they?”
“Hazelnut pralines, coffee crèmes, strawberry mousse delights, and every other type of chocolate you can imagine,” Olivia said. It was a miracle she wasn’t the size of a small house by now.
Jake took one and popped it into his mouth, then groaned. “Delicious.”
“Thank you,” Olivia said. “Look, I feel terrible about accusing Kinks, but he seemed like the only viable option at the time.”
“We need more evidence,” Jake replied. “That’s all there is to it.”
“I should’ve let the cops check it out first, just like you said.” Olivia pressed a variety of buttons on the espresso machine, and it gurgled to life.
Cream of Sweet (Chocolate Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 5