Sweet Taffy and Murder: Sweet Taffy Cozy Mysteries Book #1

by Dana Moss

“With Gillian’s help.”

  “So when Janet wouldn’t sell shares to him he figured he’d just take the money out from under her nose?”

  “I don’t know. I found a few strange emails on Herbert’s computer. It seems as if he might have been getting paid to embezzle. Doesn’t that seem weird?”

  “Like someone was trying to get control of the factory through Herbert?”

  “Maybe someone wants to destroy the company for some reason?”

  “And Herbert didn’t mention any names?”

  “Why would he, if that was his meal ticket? And until he’s picked up again, we can’t ask him.”

  “You think you’ll find him?”

  “My guess is they’re on their way to Mexico through California. We’ll have to alert the Feds. No doubt they’ll be caught, but until they are, he can’t tell us who this other source is. We’ll have to wait.”

  “It’s all so odd.”

  “Whatever Herbert was up to I don’t know if he was aware that Janet didn’t have controlling shares, only forty-nine percent. The rest is held by a silent, secret partner. And since Janet’s death, her shares have reverted to this partner.”

  Taffy gave this some thought. “Maybe he did know. Maybe that’s who he was working for, and they wanted to nudge Janet out of all holdings.”

  Maria bit the end of her pencil. “But with controlling shares, why bother?”

  Taffy shrugged. “What if there was going to be a big offer on the company? What if she was against it? What if they wanted her out of the way?”

  “But Taffy, if he was embezzling from the company, he was taking money from the silent partner, too, so if he was working for them to push Janet out, it doesn’t make sense that they’d be okay with embezzlement. Plus, even if she was against a hypothetical sale, the fifty-one percent would leave the final decision up to the silent partner, so no real motive for getting rid of Janet.”

  “Maybe there are two secret parties involved? And one hired Herbert to get rid of her?”

  “But we know for sure Herbert didn’t do it.” Maria seemed to be on the edge of exasperation.

  Taffy thought of the other loose thread.

  “What does any of this have to do with Swain?”

  “Nothing by the looks of it.”

  Taffy stared at the marble on Maria’s desk.

  “Could Swain have done it?” Taffy felt horrible for pointing a finger at a dead man. “And then felt so guilty he drank and fell off his boat?”

  “Doubtful. His alibi checked out the night of Janet’s death, and he was so helpful with the police, even though he was pretty overwrought at losing his friend.”

  “But he lied about the bowling ball.”

  “Unless he totally believed it. She did store her ball there after all.”

  “If Janet’s own bowling ball didn’t hit her on the head, something else did. Herbert’s alibi checks out, but you said you found one of Janet’s hairs on his bowling ball. Could his ball be the weapon even if he didn’t actually swing it?”

  Maria shook her head. “He said she had borrowed it once a few weeks earlier but had returned it the week before she died. Some other kind of blunt instrument could have knocked her out.”

  “What about a different bowling ball?”

  “Whose?”

  Taffy bit her lip. She probably should have mentioned this sooner. “Swain said he dropped his in the ocean.”

  “He told you that?”

  Taffy nodded.

  “When I talked to him on Saturday. He seemed nervous, like he knew a lot more than he’d so far let on. Maybe even who did it.”

  “But he didn’t mention any names?”

  “No, but I had a feeling he might be protecting someone. Possibly Bill Doucet.”

  “Bill?” Maria looked away.

  “He was the one who found her body, wasn’t he? Why wasn’t he an initial suspect?”

  “Because of his history with Janet. She practically saved him. It was years ago. He stumbled into town one night drunk, stoned, and penniless. Janet bought him a meal at Moe’s diner, and then he kind of followed her home. She got him through his initial detox and helped him get trained up for his job.”

  “Swain let slip that Bill had some sort of record before coming to Abandon. Even some violence. What if one of his moods overtook him?”

  Maria shook her head. “He would have saved Janet if he’d had a chance. Not hurt her.”

  “Unless something went wrong. Or maybe he tried to save her. Maybe he witnessed something. Maybe he was too late. Swain said Bill called him before he called the police. Why would he do that?”

  “Randall was his sponsor. After Bill detoxed with Janet’s help, he needed a long-term plan. Janet asked Swain to sponsor Bill. They were good friends.”

  “So maybe Swain helped Bill clean something up before calling the police. And maybe Swain was overcome by guilt, was going to tell what he knew, and Bill had to get rid of him, too?”

  Maria glanced heavenward and sighed.

  “Bill was as loyal to Randall as to Janet. I can’t see him hurting either of them.”

  Taffy sat back in her chair. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “I know you’ve got this idea of murder in your head, and I agree things are not all that they seem in this town, and people have secrets, but I think we’re just peeing on lampposts here.”

  “Peeing?”

  Maria smiled. “It’s something my grandfather used to say when he saw people posturing and engaging in busywork to make themselves feel important. Like dogs marking their territory by peeing on —”

  “Yeah, I get it. You think all my snooping is making busywork for you, Gravely, and Chief Green.”

  Maria sighed. “That’s not really what I meant. But if we can’t find enough evidence, we can’t make a case.”

  Taffy bit her lip and racked her brain.

  “What about this secret, silent partner? Any idea who it is?”

  “Janet must have known, but I think she was the only one. The paper trail leads to an unnamed person or company represented by a Portland law firm. We’ve contacted the firm, to see if they can provide us with any information for our case, but there’s a lot of legal red tape because of probate, so we might be waiting a while.”

  Maria sighed, rolling the marble between one finger and another.

  Taffy said, “I’ll drop by to see Davenport. Maybe one law firm to another will get the ball rolling faster.”

  “Guess it can’t hurt.”

  Plus Taffy wanted to drop in on him after the things Janice said. The phone number she had given Taffy had led to an out of service Nevada number. Taffy wondered who Davenport knew in Nevada.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  If Anthony Herbert wasn’t the killer, who was? When he had called Taffy to his office, he had insinuated Swain knew more than he’d told the police. After meeting Swain, she thought so, too. Either Swain had guessed that the bowling ball had fallen off the shelf, trying to be helpful, or else he had purposely misled the police, in order to protect someone or something. Was that someone or something the reason he had ended up facedown in the marina?

  Or was it simply an accident? Had Swain, sober for twenty years, simply fallen off the wagon and then fallen off the boat?

  Whatever he had planned to tell Taffy about the MBC, she’d never know now. All she could now do was work with what she had.

  When Taffy parked in front of Davenport’s law office, she noticed Austin’s Corvette parked farther down the block.

  Hearing the chime from the main door, Davenport exited his inner office and met Taffy in the outer office.

  “Where’s Janice?” Taffy stared at the empty receptionist’s desk.

  “One of the twins is sick today.”

  Davenport’s eye twitched as he reported this.

  “I was just wondering if you could get in touch with this Portland Law firm and ask about—”

  “I’m in a meeting at the mome
nt. Could you come back later?”

  Through the partially open office door, she saw Austin sitting in the client chair. He had one ankle crossed over his knee and was thumbing through a sheaf of papers perched on his crossed leg.

  “You represent the Vallee brothers, too?”

  “Many of the local business owners are my clients.”

  “Is he, you know, straight?” She said this quietly so Austin couldn’t hear.

  Davenport cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “I’m aware that he dates women, if that’s what you—”

  “No, no. I mean as a businessman. Is he on the up and up? Does he do business fairly? You know, ethically?”

  “He’s my client, Miss Belair.”

  “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve heard rumors.”

  “You, of all people, must know that not all rumors are true.”

  “‘Me of all people’?”

  Davenport smiled. “Rest assured, I chose not to believe what I heard about you. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He turned on his Hush Puppy heel and disappeared into his office. The door closed with a click.

  What kind of rumors were going around about her?

  Taffy stepped out onto the main street. She stared at Austin’s Corvette. The vanity plate read: SPEED. Back in New York that would have impressed her. His flashy car and handsome charm would have been enough to let him buy her a drink or two. But she had changed. That kind of thing didn’t impress her anymore. At least not so much.

  She glanced at her Aveo, sighing. It would be nice to drive a Corvette for a change, open it up on the curving highway, give over to its power, its smoothness, its ability to hug the curves… She shook out her thoughts. It was best not to go down that road.

  She glanced back through Davenport’s plate-glass window. Who knows? Maybe if Austin asked her one more time she’d say yes. It’s not like Ethan was showing much interest.

  She looked up at Davenport’s sign above his door. Rumors, huh? She knew one person who could put her mind at ease about that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  It was just getting dark as Taffy pulled into the gas station.

  A curvy, pudgy-handed gas jockey stepped from her small room and bounced over, her ponytail swinging through the back opening of her baseball cap.

  “Sweet Taffy. What brings you here? Want a fill-up?”

  “I’d rather you fill me in on the rumors going on around town.”

  “About what? Swain’s sad demise? Aubin’s failing nuptials? Janice being jilted? Clint’s tastes in men? Yeah, that was a big disappointment for me.”

  “What rumors are going around about me?”

  “Oh, only the usual.”

  “Usual?”

  “Let’s see. That you’re destined to inherit millions, that you dye your hair, lipo your thighs, and you used to be a high-end call girl—”

  “Whaaat?? You know none of that’s true, don’t you?”

  “Of course. Oh, and my personal favorite: you’re obsessed with dead people.”

  “Seriously?”

  “My real favorite is the truth though. That you’re dreamy Dillon Archer’s daughter —and no, I haven’t whispered that to another soul, I promise— and you’re my friend. You’d be surprised how many people don’t believe that.”

  Ellie bit her lip and adjusted her baseball cap.

  “But they’ll believe I’m a lipo-sucking call girl. Go figure.”

  “Want a chocolate bar?” Ellie pulled four from her vest pocket. “You might as well earn the lipo one.”

  Taffy took a bar. “What can you tell me about Austin Vallee?”

  Ellie grinned. “You’re going to go for it, are you? Park Ranger Dude doesn’t quite make the cut, I get it.” She nodded knowingly, and Taffy didn’t see the point in contradicting her. Besides, she was partly right.

  “So what have you heard about Austin?”

  Ellie furrowed her brow and appeared to be scanning the overstuffed files of her memory. “Not a lot so far. He moved here a few years ago. His brother a little while after him. He seems to have money, or at least access to it, for all his development deals. I told you about his taste in girls already. I have heard he greases palms to get his business deals through.”

  “I had a feeling he didn’t play fair.”

  “Does anyone in business? All’s fair in love and war, they say, and most business is a bit like war, don’t ya think? Doesn’t mean it’s true though. Not all rumors are. Like, I’m pretty sure you’re not a call girl.” She raised an eyebrow looking for confirmation.

  Taffy snort-laughed. “How do you know so much about people in town?”

  “Might be hard to believe, but I listen as much as I talk. Sometimes at the same time.”

  Maybe Ellie wasn’t as air-headed as Taffy thought.

  A car pulled into the next bay. Ellie headed over to pump the gas, calling over her shoulder,

  “Come over to my place before you go on a date with Austin. I’ve got some blingy jewelry you can borrow.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  * * *

  When Taffy got back to the house, she gave Midnight some food. He was fattening up nicely. He had started out standoffish and suspicious but slowly seemed to be warming to her. He must miss his real owner. She’d once read a horrible story on the internet about how dogs, so loyal, would sit forlornly by their dead masters for weeks on end but that some cats, within twenty-four hours of their owners dying, had been known to start gnawing the dead body. She had no idea if such a gruesome anecdote were fact, but she sensed that Midnight was more loyal than most cats, at least those internet cats.

  If only Midnight could talk. He could probably shed some light on what had really happened to Janet.

  She left him to his plate of food and went upstairs to shower.

  A half hour later, soap-scented and cozy in her bathrobe, Taffy decided to paint her toenails. It had been ages since she’d done it herself. She tried to choose between a bright shade of red or pale-pink polish for her toes. It was a tough decision. Red was more flamboyant and sexy, but pink was more innocent, understated, and playful. Taffy settled on the pink polish because the red reminded her too much of bloodstains. Her thoughts circled back to Janet and the case.

  It was frustrating to be back at square one again. Finding the murder weapon would be a big leap forward in the case. If it wasn’t a bowling ball, what was it? Janet had clearly suffered a bleeding wound, as evidenced by the floor stain. Maria had said it could have been a different kind of blunt instrument. But what?

  As she was brushing on her second coat, Midnight trotted across the carpet.

  He deposited a wriggling mouse in front of Taffy’s newly polished toes. She screamed, tipping over the polish bottle. Clearly disappointed by Taffy’s reaction, he clamped his jaws around the mouse and trotted away. Taffy, with cotton stuffed between her toes, followed him, yelling, “Drop it! Wait! Not in the house! Take it outside!”

  She followed Midnight down the steps and out into yard. He turned back once, the mouse still twitching between his teeth. Taffy thought she might be ill.

  He jumped onto the woodpile and then sat there watching Taffy inelegantly flap and heel-walk her way towards him. “Let it go!” Midnight opened his jaws and let the mouse drop onto a piece of wood. It lay there stunned for a second before scrambling to its tiny feet and disappearing amongst the stacked logs.

  Midnight licked his paw and used it to wash his face. His eyes seemed to say, “Satisfied? Now that I’ve let that morsel go, he’ll make his way back to the kitchen, and then you’ll be sorry.”

  Taffy reached out and patted his soft head. “Good kitty.”

  She sat down next to him on the woodpile, remembering her first morning in Abandon and how freaked out she was when she met Ethan. She looked to the top left of the woodpile for the piece of wood that had given her a splinter that first morning. She’d tucked it aside. For sentimental reasons. She hadn’t wanted to burn it. It still had a sma
ll dark stain of her blood on it.

  Midnight, his face-wash finished and clearly tired of being petted, yawned and jumped down off the woodpile, dislodging the piece he’d been sitting on. It fell to the ground. As Taffy reached down to pick it up and replace it, she saw another piece of wood with a small stain on it. She dug around and loosened it. Holding it up to the light, she saw that this stain was slightly bigger and more spatter-y. But Taffy had only ever had the one splinter.

  So whose blood was this?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The next morning, Maria gave Taffy a very strange look when she walked into the precinct carrying two pieces of firewood.

  “Got an itch to go camping?” said Maria.

  Taffy looked around the office. “Where is everyone?”

  “There’s a protest going on up at the bird sanctuary. Seems peaceful so far, but the proposed development there has been a contentious issue over the past few months. I’m manning the ship here. Me and Zoe.”

  Zoe, the clerk, had her eyes glued to the computer screen perched on the booking counter.

  Taffy dropped into the chair beside Maria’s desk and laid the two pieces of wood on top of her papers. Then she leaned in, smiling triumphantly.

  “I’m betting one of these is the murder weapon.”

  “A piece of firewood?”

  “Look at this.” She pointed out the stains on wood. “I got the pieces mixed up when I was comparing them. One’s got my blood on it—long story— and the other, I’m guessing, is stained with Janet Harken’s blood.”

  Maria looked more closely. “Doesn’t look like blood.”

  “But it looks the same as this, and I know this is blood. Mine. From a splinter.”

  Maria shrugged. “What if Janet got a splinter just like you?”

  Taffy frowned. She hadn’t thought of that. Then she remembered what Ethan had said.

  “She never brought the wood in herself. Ethan always chopped it for her and carried it up to the crate on the deck. He told me that.”

  Maria narrowed her eyes. “Are you suggesting Ethan knocked her out with a piece of firewood?”

  “What? No! Ethan would never do that! Why would you even say that?”