1 Chocolate Worth Dying For

by Pat Amsden

  And why did Patrick think it was one of her knives? The knives she had with her today weren't good for, she shuddered, stabbing. A cake knife or spatula? Salad greens were torn with fingers for the best salad. Heath had used a small knife to slice scallions and some of the other ingredients for the salad but nothing that she would choose, that she would choose…to stab someone with.

  Just thinking about it was making her feel queasy.

  Who did she know who could do such a thing? Wendy Carr came to mind. But Rae-Ann Hunter was the closest thing she had to a real friend. She just couldn't see her doing something to hurt her.

  Tracey, Nikki Benshaw? She didn't think so. She shuddered again. That didn't mean Nikki wouldn't manage to get the story on the front page of her paper tomorrow. Joy!

  Heath and Marcus came up. "We've got all the dishes from the lunch put away. Everything except the cakes."

  "And Patrick was all right with that?"

  Heath grinned. "We didn't ask him."

  "Oh. Well, I'm sure it'll be all right," she said, anything but. "Have you talked to him yet?"

  "Nope. But I talked to one of the other police. He didn't say anything about me moving our cooking supplies."

  Devon Matthews walked towards her with purpose. "So I'll see you tomorrow night for my presentation?"

  "You still want me?" she said in surprise.

  "I really don't see how your cooking had anything to do this." She looked at her kindly. "This has been a horrible shock to us all. But that doesn't mean I don't want you catering for me." She looked at the cakes and cupcakes. "I don't know…the main cake's too big but maybe some of the cupcakes could be used tomorrow. It seems a shame to have them go to waste."

  Patrick came back towards her. "Are you feeling better now?"

  "A bit," she said cautiously.

  "Good. Anything out of the ordinary you've seen, anything at all, I'll want to hear about."

  She shook her head. "I was so wrapped up in putting the cakes together. I really didn't pay much attention."

  "It would've been better if the cooking supplies hadn't already been taken down," he said.

  "Heath talked to one of the officers," she said sharply. "He didn't say anything against it."

  He shook his head. "Water under the bridge now. Did he happen to notice any missing knives?"

  "He'd have said something," she said sharply.

  "It's the same type of knife as your other knives," he said sharply. "But it's a filleting knife. At least according to your assistant, Marcus. That doesn't seem to be something a chocolate maker would need to worry about."

  He paused seeming to think about how best to say what he said next. "Everyone says they saw Marcus, Ally and you. Nobody seems to have seen much of Heath once the lunch started."

  "No surprise there," she said. "He was off yesterday with a cold. Today he double-dosed on cold meds so that he'd be able to help with the prep but by the time we started serving he looked half-dead. With Marcus and Ally helping I was able to tell him to rest. He took me up on it."

  "Anyone see him?"

  "Ally was laughing because he was snoring."

  She looked at Patrick more closely. "Did she, did she suffer?"

  He shook his head.

  Her eyes filled with tears. "That's something then."

  He nodded grimly. "How well do you know Heath?"

  "What do you mean? He's my right hand man. He's been with me since the opening. He helped me out for catering jobs sometimes when I was doing it on the side and he was still in school." Her eyes narrowed. "You don't suspect him do you?"

  "No," Patrick said quickly.

  Too quickly she thought.

  "But he's been at both events. He definitely has access to your shop and knows your routine. He…"

  "Has no motive. What would be his reason?" she said.

  "I was hoping you could help me with that."

  "Well I can't," she said sharply. More sharply than was necessary she realized seeing how his eyes darkened. "I know you're just doing your job but Heath…Heath would never do something like that."

  "You'd say that about anyone here," Patrick said firmly. "But almost definitely one of them's a killer. Bear that in mind."

  She knew he was right. But it was still hard for her to believe. Most of the people here were people she'd known for years. Maybe not that well, but she knew them or knew of them. She rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to get warm. "OK," she said reluctantly. "But it's not Heath. I'd know if I worked that closely with someone and he was a killer."

  "If you find out anything about anyone, let me know. And make sure you're not alone with them." He looked at her grimly. "I don't want you to be the next victim."

  She shivered. "Is this where you tell us all not to leave town?"

  He grinned. "No. But I probably should."

  She smiled back. But it was a hollow smile.

  Chapter Seven

  "This is one time I think you should worry," her Grandma Ellie declared putting a fresh pot of tea down between the two of them along with a plate of Snicker Doodle cookies.

  "I'll be fine," she said sinking into the chair as she took the pro-offered cup of tea. "After all I've got you to defend me."

  "And since I just finished a round of karate classes at the rec center I could do some serious damage too," Grandma Ellie said, eyes sparkling. "But I've got a date with the karate instructor. Maybe you should call up that detective – Patrick? And get him to keep an eye on you."

  "Grandma," she protested. "I don't need a police officer sitting here watching over me."

  "Trust me, you could have a lot more fun with him than your old, wrinkled, grandma."

  "Uh-huh." She looked over at her Grandma Ellie. Dressed in a sky blue tunic top with silver embroidery and rhinestones around the neck with silver pants and ballet flats she looked ready for whatever! "I don't know Grandma, you've lead a pretty interesting life."

  "And I didn't do it by sitting in a room on my own watching TV. Call Patrick. Or what about that sexy artist in the store next to you?"

  "You go Grandma. I'll be fine on my own. And if there's even a hint of anything strange I will call the police."

  "Patrick. You're not way down on the priority list, after finishing the donut or coffee, with him."

  "Patrick," she agreed. Although in actuality there was no way she had any intention of calling any police officer tonight. Briefly she wondered what it would be like to spend time with Sam Dixon when he wasn't looking for coffee and chocolate or painting his latest masterpiece. The man had a wicked sense of humor and those eyes of his…

  Hot, definitely hot. But was he spending time at the shop to get closer to her as her grandmother seemed to be suggesting or was there a more sinister reason? Along with half the people at the museum today he'd been at the party in Olde Towne the other night and perhaps more damming to her mind…

  It would have been no effort at all for him to put that note on her store window warning her to back off. She just couldn't see any motive. Unless you counted the notoriety bringing more locals and tourists alike to her shop and then, possibly to his to peruse his work, as a possible motive.

  She shook her head as she poured herself a glass of wine. She didn't believe it. And she believed Heath possible of murder even less. That didn't change one fact though. Someone she knew was. Drawing her sweater closer to her she went around methodically checking out all her locks and window latches. Sometimes an ounce of caution was worth more than a ton of cure.

  And then she went to bed. Bone tired she just wanted to curl up in a ball and forget everything that had happened today. But she woke in the night seeing Rae-Ann's face in front of her, hearing Patrick's questions about Heath. How well do you know him? Do you know where he was? Faces swirled before her, questioning her, wanting answers.

  She shivered, tears coming to her eyes. Rae-Ann didn't deserve to die. And Heath was not responsible. She knew it. Deep down to her bones. But she was going
to have to find something better than that to convince the police.

  What though? As she dragged herself around the coffee shop pouring coffee and listening to all the comments she could barely keep her eyes open.

  "Another murder at the museum? "

  "Who knew culture could be so deadly?" another lady joked.

  But though she smiled at the jokes and tried to take it all in stride she found it anything but funny. Two people she knew were dead. And they'd died at functions catered by her

  A fact the newspaper blared from the front page. A Deadly Affair – Local caterer, Maxine Peters, once again finds herself in the center of a murder investigation. She didn't need to read the rest, she'd lived it.

  It was also on Facebook and Twitter. This amount of publicity was something many caterers only dreamed about. Strangely she didn't think any of them were going to be wanting a part of hers right now.

  She needed to know who was behind these deaths. Before her new business became the latest casualty. As she prepped trays filled with truffles for the party along with a show stopping chocolate cake she said a silent prayer of gratitude. If only more people could be like Devon.

  Unfortunately the bookings she'd made in the last week were cancelling now. Tracey's party had given her an infusion of cash that would keep her going for the next month. After that… the future was anything but clear.

  As for Heath, he was a bear. "Why would I kill her. I never saw her except here," he growled now. "And I didn't know Ron Vandemeer either. How, exactly, does your boyfriend decide I'm a suspect?"

  "Not from me," she said hastily. "And he's not my boyfriend. I've already told him he's way off base. But he wants to know who saw you while Rae-Ann, Rae-Ann…

  "Was being killed," he said sighing.

  "And then he says you could have left the note warning me to keep my nose out of places it doesn't belong," she said, sighing heavily. "I told him Ally heard you snoring and I heard you from your place last night when I brought you soup."

  "Couldn't you have said you saw me," he growled.

  She was taken aback. "But …I didn't," she said. "And besides I heard you so it's the same thing. Trust me. You don't have anything to worry about."

  He stabbed a knife into the cutting board and she jumped back. This was a side of Heath she hadn't seen before. She couldn't say she liked it.

  "We just have to find out who IS behind the killings and everything will go back to normal," she said soothingly.

  Meanwhile she was left with a slower than usual day and more staff than normal. She set Marcus and Ally to making up the filling for a large batch of English toffee. Dipped in chocolate and then covered in a decadent layer of chopped almonds they were a perennial favorite with regulars and tourists alike.

  She hesitated, knowing how hurt Heath was to be under a cloud of suspicion. "You don't have to come with me," she said. "But I thought I'd take the chance to pop out to Bernice's and see how she's doing."

  "The old lady you were telling us about?"

  "Yeah. I promised I'd check up on her this week and since I've got some free time…"

  "I'm in," Heath said. "Sounds like she could use some friends."

  Tears came to her eyes. "Thank you," she said simply. Having Heath on side meant more to her than she cared to admit.

  She packed a cooler with some soup from the days' menu. Carrot-ginger as well as some of the Wild Mushroom and Tomatoes Basil she'd put aside the day before along with some salad. She wasn't sure Bernice did salad but at least she'd have the option. That along with some cold cuts, scones and some cupcakes with just a couple of truffles, should give her a break from cooking.

  Maxine shuddered, remembering the insides of her fridge. She'd cleaned it but she suspected Bernice wasn't eating well for anyone, let alone a woman of her age. Tea and toast. She remembered a nurse friend from school who worked with the elderly saying, sadly, that was a diet staple for far too many older people living on their own. Not today if Maxine had anything to say about it.

  As they drove through the West Shore in Maxine's bright red smart car she realized the rain had given them a reprieve for today at least, with bright blue skies and sunshine making her feel lucky to be alive. Small deer grazed on the front lawns of local residents mowing down sections of flowers. A door opened in one house with the owner running out to scare off her unwanted visitors while exclaiming angrily over the remains of her garden.

  Maxine couldn't help it. She knew there was a push on by local residents to cull the deer but she'd take them over flowers any day. Something not lost on local politicians who were treading ultra-carefully around the subject not wanting to anger homeowners and avid gardeners while wanting to avoid being labelled Bambi killers.

  She turned onto Bernice's street. And felt her jaw drop in surprise.

  The yard looked as if a bomb had exploded in it and Bernice's scooter was over-turned. A wave of nausea moved over her making her feel sick and faint even as her heart moved up into her throat and started to beat faster. As she pulled into the nearest parking spot she could see Heath's face, tight with anger.

  "Bastards," he said. "What kind of creep picks on old ladies?"

  What kind indeed she thought as Heath pounded one hand into the other. "Let's go see how she is," Maxine said jumping out.

  Standing on the back porch Bernice was waving her right fist in the air and yelling. "You don't scare me! Punks! That's what you are punks! If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from here."

  Maxine figured that was a good sign. Clearly the old lady still had some fight left in her. A motorcycle engine roared to life and Heath grabbed Maxine from behind, lifting her out of the way as the motorcyclist roared down the small lane knocking Bernice to the ground.

  He was at Bernice's side in a minute. "Don't you move ma'am. We're calling an ambulance and getting you checked out." He took his coat off, lifting Bernice's head and using it as a pillow. "Where does it hurt?"

  "All over," she said. "But that's just normal." She struggled to sit up but Heath put a restraining hand on her to prevent her movement.

  "Really, you shouldn't move," he said. "Not until we get someone out here to check you out."

  Maxine took out her cell phone and called 911. "There's been an accident. At least it really wasn't an accident. An elderly woman's been knocked onto the ground by a motorcyclist. Bernice. I'm not sure what her last name is. We need an ambulance and police to … "she looked at the street number on Bernice's mailbox. "86 Dewdrop Lane."

  "I don't know. She says she hurts all over. Just …please hurry."

  She knelt down before Bernice. "How are you feeling?"

  "Just ducky dear. Can't you tell? Hooligans, " she said angrily. "I can manage fine on my own."

  "Her pulse is a little fast," Heath said, looking worried.

  "I'll go in and get a blanket," Maxine said standing up. She pushed the door open as Bernice protested angrily.

  It smelled. She pushed past the kitchen into the living room which was piled high … with everything and anything. A throw sat on the couch. She picked it up and headed back outside.

  She knelt down tucking it around Bernice. In the distance she could hear the wail of an ambulance. No other sign of life came from the residents of Dewdrop Lane. "Doesn't anyone live on this street anymore?"

  "Not very many," Bernice said grimly. "Thanks to your friend."

  "I just can't see Ron being behind this," Maxine said firmly.

  "You still love Bambi too," Bernice said snorting. "They've shut down you know. So much for it being business as usual."

  "That doesn't mean he's responsible," she said.

  "Doesn't exactly mean it's business as usual either," Bernice said crossly, refusing to give an inch.

  A police car came to a stop in front of Bernice's place and an officer she'd never seen before got out. Pulling in right behind them came an ambulance complete with paramedics.

  Before the police could talk to Bernic
e the paramedics had taken over assessing Bernice. As they did so Officer Martin asked Bernice a few questions.

  "Did you know who these men were?"

  "You think they stopped to introduce themselves first? I know who sent them."

  "Mmm Hmm. And that would be?"

  "Well, it's as clear as the nose on your face. It's those development people again."

  In his forties with salt and pepper hair, Officer Martin looked as if he were taking it all in. But he didn't seem too worried. "Is there any evidence to prove that," he asked patiently.

  "That's your job," Bernice said, clearly annoyed at his attitude and Maxine had a hard time keeping a smile off her face. Bernice might be old and cranky but she liked her. And she didn't like what was happening to her. Not one bit.

  She looked over to see Heath righting her scooter in the yard. His reaction had shocked her.

  He'd really done most of what the paramedics had done on arrival except once they'd finished the assessment they'd gotten her onto a gurney, wrapped her into a blanket and strapped her in ready for a ride to the hospital. Something that wasn't sitting well with Bernice.

  "I don't need to go to hospital. I just need someone to find those yahoos and – and – shake some sense into them," she said firmly.

  "We'd feel better if we could get you checked out. Maybe get them to run a few x-rays," one of the paramedics said.

  "Suppose it couldn't hurt," she said. But …"

  "I'm sure your daughter and," he looked in the direction of Heath, "son, can take care of everything here."

  "We'll be happy too," Maxine said, stepping forward.

  Bernice frowned at her. She smiled back. "I'll be back before you know it," Bernice said.

  Maxine patted her on the shoulder. "You let the paramedics take care of you and we'll make sure everything's all right here. We'll be in to check on you shortly."

  The paramedic smiled at her "We'll be taking her to Victoria General."

  Meanwhile Officer Martin and his partner were taking pictures of everything.

  "We'll need statements," he said now, coming over to her as the ambulance pulled away."