1 Chocolate Worth Dying For

by Pat Amsden

  "I'm sorry. It's just … they were such a good couple. She absolutely adored David and … and," her voice wobbled. "He hasn't even stopped working. It's like losing her doesn't matter!" Her voice went up higher. "And, and for me … I feel as if my whole life's been shattered. I, I wake up and start thinking about the day. Most days we got together for coffee or we talked on the phone. And now…"

  "It's OK," Maxine said. "I'd feel the same way." Someone poked their head in the shop and Maxine waved them away. "I know they've got support groups… for people who, who have lost someone. My grandma went to one…"

  "For husbands and lovers, not, not…"

  "For anyone," Maxine said firmly. "Grandma Ellie said it was a huge help to her. And friends. You and Rae-Ann had lots of friends. What about Carly?"

  "I love Carly, I really do. But I just can't take her positive outlook right now. She always tries to find the good in things and I swear to God." She broke off stifling a sob. "If she tried to make something good out of Rae-Ann dying her I'd strangle her."

  "Maybe not her then, but…"

  Three quarters of an hour and two potential customers later she eased Wendy out of the shop with a promise she'd guard Rae-Ann's notebook with her life and do her best to find the killer.

  Fortunately the lack of customers gave her lots of time to comb through Rae-Ann's notebook. What it didn't give her was a reason for Rae-Ann's death. Would she be able to find anything in it though? Just as Wendy said there was a shopping list containing everything from soup to nuts and everything in between. If it was coded it was eluding her too.

  There were notes to pick up things for her daughter's summer camp and son's track event. Notes on the dining room she was re-decorating and colour chips for the walls. But nothing. Absolutely nothing that she could see which screamed killer.

  Sam entered from next door. He looked around. "Oh. This is bad."

  "Tell me about it," she said tersely. "Apparently murder does stop people."

  "The police must have something."

  "It's a closely guarded secret then," she said pouring a cup of coffee for Sam. "How're you doing?"

  He shrugged. "Can't complain. A couple from Seattle decided to buy my tree series."

  "Sam! That's fantastic. They just walked in off the street and …"

  "Saw it, loved it, bought it. Guys a software designer and she does something with computers too. They told me but I can't remember what. Anyway they spend ninety percent of their time staring at computer screens, they wanted pictures showing trees and green."

  "Maybe you'll inspire them to go for a walk," she quipped with a smile. "Seriously Sam that's fabulous."

  He grinned. "Care to celebrate with me?

  "Oh Sam, you know I'd love to. But I …" But I have to solve two murders? As if. Grandma Ellie's words rang in her ears "life's for living. Have some fun."

  "You know," she said. "Why not? It's not as if I'm turning away business." He grinned at her and her heart sped up.

  "I'll pick you up at six does that work?"

  "Yep," she replied. "You want me to meet you here?"

  "Or I could pick you up."

  For the space of a heart beat she hesitated. And then…"Sure." Why did she even question this? She didn't seriously consider Sam a suspect did she? She gave him her address telling herself she was crazy to even hesitate. Certainly she wouldn't have before this whole mess started.

  Ellie just looked at her and shook her head when she told her how she'd reacted before giving him her address. "You're worried about dating. Besides I'll protect you if he gets out of hand."

  Maxine couldn't help it. Even as she knew Grandma Ellie was being totally serious the idea of her grandmother saving her from a date gone bad had her bursting into laughter. And her grandmother joined her.

  As the laughing ended though Grandma Ellie assured her once more, "I am trained in karate. If it comes down to it I can take him down."

  Which had Maxine, along with her grandmother, in laughter again. And that was a whole lot better than the tears and sorrow she'd been party to lately. By the time Sam picked her up she'd changed into black jeans and a dressy top with some fancy earrings. Dressed up casual. It could take her almost anywhere in Victoria, particularly on a week night.

  "Mm. Looking good," Sam said, his gaze sweeping over her approvingly so that she felt herself blushing as she took the pro-offered flowers he offered her and put them in water.

  Later over dinner she told him about the notebook. "There's nothing there," she said frustrated.

  "Maybe you're looking at it wrong," he said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You see what you expect to," he said. "Look at it backwards, flip through it randomly. You'll be amazed at the difference it makes." He smiled at her. "Who knows, maybe it'll spark something."

  But even as she laughed about it she didn't believe it would. It wasn't until much later as she got ready for bed that she thought about what he said. What could it hurt?

  Lying there, with her legs up on the wall and moonlight streaming through the window she looked again. Turned it upside down and sideways. Looked at it again. Nothing. Flicked through it at the speed of light, flipped it in the air and turned it upside down. And watched in amazement as a slip of paper slipped out of a pocket she hadn't even noticed. It couldn't be that easy. It was nothing.

  She opened the piece of paper. And read …why was Bill talking to K at the party? How come Tracey so upset at Devon? Use investment money for bridge. She sat bolt upright. Who was K? Had Kathy Sullivan been at the museum party? She didn't remember her but until the funeral she had no reason to.

  Why was Tracey upset at Devon and why did they need bridge money? Her heart hammered in her chest. She wanted to get up and start calling people, asking them. The words about bridging said so long ago came back to her…

  She was going to have to wait. Kathleen Sullivan hadn't exactly welcomed her with open arms on her last visit. And Tracey had been adamant there were no problems with the development. But the fact that it seemed closed down yesterday would make that a lie. And if she was lying about that what else was she lying about?

  First thing tomorrow she'd give Patrick a call. Maybe he'd know something. And then maybe she could pay Kathy Sullivan a call. With or without Patrick. He hadn't exactly gone out of his way to give her any information.

  Chapter Ten

  "Kathleen Sullivan, please." Maxine bit back an expression of disbelief. It wasn't that difficult a request. All she'd asked was to be put through to Kathleen Sullivan. But the girl on the other end of the line seemed on the verge of tears.

  Someone else came on the phone. A man this time. "Is there something I could help you with?"

  "No. It was a personal matter. I can call back another time. Is she on a break or…"

  There was a deep sigh. "Are you a close friend of Miss Sullivan's?"

  "No. I'd only met her once but I had a question."

  "Perhaps someone else here could help you?"

  "It was a personal matter," Maxine said.

  "Then. I'm sorry. I have to tell you there's been an accident."

  "An accident," she said stunned. "Is Kathleen all right?"

  "She's dead." The words had a finality bringing a gasp from Maxine.

  "Dead? But – I just saw her yesterday. She…" Maxine felt herself start to shake.

  "She was hit crossing the street on the way to work today. A freak accident. I'm very sorry."

  "But…"

  He sighed deeply. "Do you have someone with you?"

  "Yes, yes," she said absently. She could sense Heath's concern as he came over to where she sat. But she was numb as the man gave her a brief account telling her Kathleen had been hit on her way to work that morning and pronounced dead at the hospital.

  She hung up the phone in tears. " Kathleen Sullivan is dead. She was killed in a hit and run this morning."

  Heath groaned. "Why were you calling her?"

  "Ther
e were some questions I wanted to ask her," she said absently.

  He shook his head. "This is insane. Everywhere you turn there's a dead body."

  "Are you saying that's my fault?" she said, horrified.

  "No. Just." He shook his head again. "There's got to be a reason. Why were you calling Kathleen?"

  "Rae Ann's notebook," she said absently.

  "Notebook. How do you have that?" he said shortly.

  "Wendy gave it to me," she said defensively.

  "But why do you have to investigate? Give it to the police." Heath said, exasperated.

  She bit her lip. "Wendy said she showed it to them. They weren't interested."

  He snorted. "But you found something they missed?" he said in a tone of total disbelief.

  She shivered slightly. "Just a few questions I wanted to clear up."

  "Then call your detective friend. Tell him what you found. I'm pretty sure he'll be interested now."

  Now. But would they do anything with it? Or would it be another case of too little too late. She called Patrick but she wasn't going to just sit back and relax. Not when there were lives at stake. Not to mention her business.

  Patrick reacted pretty much the same way Heath had. "This has to stop. You're putting yourself in danger," he said now as she walked with him along Victoria's causeway.

  "I'm not doing anything," she said angrily. "I didn't kill Ron Vandemeer. Or Rae-Ann." Her eyes filled with tears. "Or Kathleen Sullivan. But I need to know why."

  "The police will investigate."

  "Like they've been doing so far," she said hotly.

  "It's not that easy," Detective Shannon said. "You know that! That's why I've told you to call – if not me – the police department and we'll make sure we send an officer immediately."

  "I was only given the notebook after someone in your department said they didn't care about it," she said defiantly.

  "Which was a mistake," he said firmly. "You could've talked to me about it.

  "Maybe next time," she said, trying to placate him. "But I talked to her a day ago. I just thought if I gave her a phone call maybe she could tell me what I wanted to know."

  He looked at her doubtfully. "Really? You thought she'd say by the way I know who killed…"

  "Not that," she said upset. "But what did that note about bridging mean? I don't think it was a real bridge."

  "I don't know," he admitted. "But we've got a police officer who deals in forensic accounting working on the case."

  "A what?" she said.

  "He looks at the accounts of people who have been killed. To see if there's anything there that would be a problem."

  "And?"

  "I'll check with him."

  "That's all you can say?" she said frustrated.

  "Unlike you we actually need proof before we bring people in for questioning or arrest them. Probable cause."

  "I'm not the police," she said stung, more than she cared to admit. "And I've got reason for my suspicions."

  "So call us. We can check them out." He turned towards her, taking her hands in hers. His eyes looked straight into hers, concerned, caring. "I don't want you taking unnecessary chances."

  And maybe she should've listened. But she still had just a few questions she wanted answering. And Patrick Shannon didn't have any intention of sharing with her. Not until the killer was caught and safely behind bars. What had Kathleen known that was worth dying for? Or was it really just a tragic accident. She shuddered again.

  "We have to go to the funeral," Grandma Ellie said. "Let her family know how sorry we are for what happened to her, make sure they're all right."

  "How can we possibly do that? It's never going to be all right. Not for her family. How could it be? I don't even know her family. Or when the funeral is." She broke off, shaking her head. "I just saw the invitation to Rae-Ann' funeral. I…" she blinked back tears. "I feel as if I'm in the middle of a bad dream."

  "All the more reason to find the answers," Ellie said firmly. "Before anyone else is hurt."

  "How is going to Kathleen's funeral going to help that?"

  "If we hadn't gone to Ron's we'd never have known she existed," Grandma Ellie said firmly. "Who knows what we'll learn at Rae-Ann's or Kathleen's'."

  She shuddered. "It just seems wrong. On so many levels." But what could be right about anyone dying so young? Something she thought again while getting ready for Rae-Ann's funeral.

  As she sat in Sand's funeral home listening to the minister give the eulogy for Rae-Ann though she couldn't help scanning the room. Her husband looked shattered even if Wendy didn't believe he cared enough. Wendy and Carly sat together. Carly's face was swollen with the signs of tears freshly shed. Wendy looked tense and white, drained of any emotion. As if the slightest thing could shatter her.

  At the grave site everyone mouthed condolences and talked briefly. But there was an air of disbelief and over-whelming sadness. Even though the weather had turned sunny, seeming to smile on everyone, it was as if they were going through the motions eager to get away from the funeral and back to their normal routine as quickly as possible.

  "She deserves better," Wendy muttered to her.

  "For heaven's sake," her husband Bill said. "Not here."

  Maxine could barely stop herself from crying as she gave Wendy a quick hug. "The police will find who's responsible."

  Tracey Vandemeer was talking briefly to David, Rae-Ann's husband. Even from a distance she seemed tense as she talked to him. And David didn't seem too pleased either. His face darkened at whatever she'd said. Maxine made her way through the crowd, not wanting to make her intentions too obvious. But by the time she made it over to where David stood Tracey had long since disappeared.

  "I'm so sorry," she said sincerely, stopping to talk to David Hunter. "Rae-Ann was one of the nicest people I ever met. I just don't understand how something like this could happen."

  His face darkened. "Someone does," he said curtly.

  "We all want justice done," she said.

  His eyebrow raised. "Just make sure you don't get in the middle of it. There's been enough people hurt." His voice turned grim.

  Maxine couldn't help squirming a little. Did he know she had Rae-Ann's notebook? And what had he and Tracey been talking about?

  She'd arranged to take Bernice home from the hospital today. Heath, Marcus and Ally were already at her place setting everything up and making sure it was ready for her first time in her place since they'd gone through cleaning and de-cluttering.

  "The Big Reveal," as Ally insisted on calling it with the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning, was just waiting for Bernice.

  But she wondered if she was doing her any favors. The social worker who'd inspected her place had decided it was clean enough but was worried about her taking care of herself.

  "Who will she call if she has another accident? She was lucky you showed up when you did." An older lady in her mid-forties she'd been straight-forward and no-nonsense even as Maxine found herself defending Bernice.

  "She can call us if there's a problem. We'll make sure she has enough to eat."

  "For now," the social worker had sniffed. "What about when you get busy with your own lives? What if she doesn't call?"

  "All of us could have an accident in our own homes," Maxine had said impatiently. "But we don't want to live under someone else's supervision 24 hours a day just because of that. She's lived in her house for fifty years and she doesn't want to give it up. If she's capable of looking after herself – with a little help from us – for a few more years why shouldn't she?" She'd been angry and upset on Bernice's behalf.

  Now she worried the social worker was right. She'd feel better if Bernice's house was in a thriving community, filled with friends and family.

  Instead the area seemed mainly deserted. Most friends and neighbors had decamped leaving her a lonely party of one angrily protesting against the fates. But the fates had a habit of acting unkindly at the best of the times and this
was hardly that.

  Even as she liberated a wheelchair from the stash by the front door of the hospital and made her way up to Bernice's ward with Grandma Ellie she was far from convinced. Lately her track record didn't seem that good.

  "Even if Bernice does need more care than she has now it has to be her choice," Ellie said firmly. "If it isn't it will be a disaster. I certainly wouldn't want someone sticking me in long-term care."

  "You're in really good shape Grandma," Maxine pointed out. "Bernice is a lot older and frailer."

  "She's really not that much older than me," Grandma Ellie said. "She just has had more challenges."

  Maxine looked at Grandma Ellie, worried. She didn't put Bernice and Ellie in the same category. It came as a shock to her to have Grandma Ellie say she was pretty much the same age.

  "You take better care of yourself," she said swiftly not willing to consider the implications.

  "She's lost her husband in the last year," Ellie said. "That can throw anyone. And it's not easy for her with what she's going through in her community."

  Which wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement for living independently Maxine couldn't help thinking. Not that she had any intention of raining on today's parade. As she approached the nursing station one of Bernice's nurse's looked up.

  "Are you here to take her home?"

  "We are," Ellie said brightly.

  "She's looking forward to it," her nurse said smiling. "I'll just check and make sure she's ready to go."

  They followed her down the hallway and into a room where Bernice waited with all her belongings packed into two big bags. She smiled as they entered. "They're finally springing me," she said.

  Ellie laughed. "That must feel good."

  Bernice looked her over sharply. Before she had a chance to say anything though, Maxine jumped in.

  "This is my Grandma Ellie. She's been helping us get your place ready."

  "It was just fine the way it was," Bernice grumbled.

  A smile took the sting from Grandma Ellie's words as she said, "and it's even better now. Maxine and her friends have put a lot of work into getting your place fixed up."

  "Mmm," Bernice shot Ellie a worried look. "Has she always been this bossy?"