1 Chocolate Worth Dying For

by Pat Amsden

  "Sometimes," Ellie said cheerfully. "When she sees a need."

  "And you're here…because?"

  "Because it seems as if you could use a few friends right now and I've helped some of my friends go through some of what you're going through."

  "Really?" Bernice said.

  But she got into the wheelchair allowing Maxine to adjust the foot-rests so that her feet were comfortable. Next she arranged the bags so they hung off the wheelchair and picked up the two batches of flowers Bernice had sitting on her side-table. One was from them but she glanced quickly at the card from the other.

  'Sorry to hear you're having difficulties. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Tracey.' Tracey? As in Tracey Vandemeer?

  "Really," Ellie said firmly. "It ain't easy getting old. But it beats the alternative."

  "Got that right," Bernice said, nodding in approval and Maxine felt herself giving a sigh of relief as the nurses gathered around wishing Bernice well as they said their goodbyes.

  As they swung onto Bernice's street it was immediately evident that changes had been made. The front yard had been cleaned up and the fence painted. Flowers had been planted along the sidewalk and near the entrance. The three steps which had seemed a challenge for Bernice at the best of times had been covered with a piece of plywood and made into a ramp.

  "What in Sam hill!" Bernice exclaimed when she saw the ramp.

  "It was part of the changes the social worker recommended to make it easier for you."

  "Busy bodies, sticking their heads in where nobodies asked them," Bernice grumbled. "I don't have any way to pay for this you know."

  "Nobody expects you too," Maxine said soothingly. "It's just part of being a community."

  Bernice's eyes teared up. "It's too much. You shouldn't have to."

  Maxine leaned forward taking her hands in hers. "We wanted to. Not just me and Grandma Ellie. Heath and his friends too. Come on, we'll take you inside."

  She pushed her up the ramp.

  At the top Bernice insisted on standing up. "I'll walk in on my own. I'm old, I'm not dead."

  "OK then," Maxine said brightly. She opened the door proud of the changes that had been made. Sunlight spilled through newly washed windows onto spotlessly clean counters. The kitchen table held a bowl of fresh fruit.

  "You've changed everything around. I'll be lucky if I can find anything," Bernice said grumbling but Maxine could swear she saw a small tear in the corner of her eye.

  "Would you like the grand tour now or a cup of tea first," she said brightly.

  "I think I'd better have the grand tour first," Bernice said, getting into the spirit of things. "Lead on."

  Heath was beaming, as were Ally and Marcus.

  "After you then, Madam," Heath said grandly, standing aside to allow them into the living room. Clean and airy, with walls freshly painted in cream and new curtains Ally had sewed up quickly out of some old fabric it seemed to welcome them in. The effect, however, seemed lost on Bernice.

  "It's, I can't believe it, but where's all my stuff? I, where did you put it." She began to get agitated and Maxine stepped forward quickly.

  "You had a lot of unopened things with the price tag still on. The ones that looked as if they'd been there awhile we resold through consignment and second hand stores. The newer ones we've kept to go through with you and see what you want to do with them."

  "That's good. I've got some things I picked up for my daughter and some of my grandkids."

  Ellie stepped forward. "I know what you're going through. I went through the same thing when my Reggie died."

  Bernice looked at her in clear disbelief. "It's not the same at all. You've got your granddaughter and all her friends, you, you've…"

  "It took time," Ellie said firmly. "And I had help. But you'll get through this. I hope you'll count me as a friend."

  "I, of course." Bernice seemed taken aback. "It's just this is so, so drastic."

  Heath shrugged. "We had some free time."

  Ally stepped forward. "And I love doing this kind of stuff. It's like all those decorating shows."

  They moved into the bedroom. Bernice's eyes watered. "But, but Ernie, everything of Ernie's is gone!" she cried.

  Ellie stepped forward quickly putting her arms around her and leading her to the bed to sit down. "I know it must seem that way but he wouldn't want you to live here the way you were. That's not how it was when he was alive was it?"

  Bernice gave a strangled cry. "No, but…"

  "You haven't wanted to change anything, to move anything since he…left. But he's gone now. He'd want you to take care of yourself."

  "But the bed. I haven't, I haven't changed the sheets since…"

  "You can't live like that Bernice," Ellie said firmly. "And you don't have to. Keep the memories. But Ernie wouldn't want this for you."

  "All his clothes, all his…"

  "We've kept those to go over with you. I know how hard this is. I had to do it with my Reggie."

  "You got rid of everything?" Bernice said, her voice going up.

  "I kept pictures of us. I kept one old shirt of his I sleep in sometimes."

  Maxine looked at her grandma in surprise.

  "But most of it I gave away to goodwill. Hopefully someone else who needed it got some help from it. And I made a collage of some of his favorite things and put it in a shadow box."

  "Shadow box?" Bernice said in confusion.

  "It's a way of displaying something like a picture and keeping it in good condition. "We'll get some from a craft store."

  "Tracey Vandemeer has one I believe," Maxine interjected. "We could probably get her to come over and help."

  "I've had enough of their help," Bernice said, some of her old fire coming back. "That's what got me into such a mess. First the people from West Shore Developments and then Ron and then, then that lady friend of his, Kathleen, and…."

  Maxine listened in shock. "What did Kathleen have to do with this?"

  "She was helping as his virtual assistant. Looked pretty darned real to me."

  "I thought she worked for West Shore municipal office."

  Bernice waved her hand. "She did. She was doing this on the side. Trying to make some extra money."

  It fit Maxine realized. Kathleen had said Ron was helping her start a new business.

  "But wouldn't that be a conflict…"

  "That's why she wanted to be sure I knew she was doing it as a virtual assistant for Ron and not as part of the West Shore city hall."

  "OK, that makes sense. But what…"

  "I don't have that much money to begin with. Ernie's pension wasn't very much and I didn't work for that long."

  "What has that got to do with Kathleen?" Maxine said.

  "She set me up with an investment specialist." Bernice looked down, ashamed. "It was my fault for falling for it. I'm old enough to know better. Stupid, that's what I am."

  "Bernice, you're not stupid," Maxine declared hotly. She sat down beside her on the bed. "This investment specialist – her name wasn't Devon was it?"

  "Not sure," Bernice muttered. "But she told me the best way to make sure I could keep living independently was to invest with her – for the future, you know?"

  Maxine felt a flash of white-hot anger run through her. Bernice had enough to deal with. "You didn't, you didn't invest all your money did you?" she said hesitantly.

  Bernice shook her head angrily. "I'm not that stupid! But then I started running into expenses I never expected and all my money's locked up."

  "I'll talk to her," Maxine said grimly. "Right now I don't want you worrying about a thing. Let's go have some tea."

  "I made a lemon poppy seed loaf," Ally said brightly. "I hope you like it."

  "I'm sure it will be just fine," Bernice said. " Shouldn't a chocolate caterer have chocolate in the breakfast?"

  "Ally did this on her own," Maxine said smiling. "And besides even I don't eat chocolate for breakfast every day."
>
  "You don't look like you eat much chocolate at all," Bernice said eying her suspiciously.

  "Trust me, I do," Maxine said. "I just burn it off running around.

  "Mm. Next time you're here for breakfast I want a chocolate breakfast."

  Maxine laughed. "It's a deal. Maybe chocolate croissants with fresh fruit?"

  "The chocolate croissants sound good. I'm not so sure about the fruit."

  "Maybe fresh raspberry compote along with some strawberry and peach?"

  "Keep talking," Bernice said. "It's starting to sound better all the time."

  "To you and me both," Heath said with feeling.

  "Maybe that's something to think about for Au Chocolat," Maxine said thoughtfully.

  "Enough about business," Grandma Ellie said. "Young people these days," she said to Bernice. "They don't know how to have fun."

  Bernice gave a laugh. "Why do I get the feeling you do?"

  "I'll bet you do too."

  Bernice's face had a sad look. "Not so much lately."

  "We have to remember the good times. Did you grow up around here?"

  "Born and bred," Bernice said proudly.

  "You remember Club 6?"

  "Oh, baby," Bernice sighed. "I used to love that program. Remember when they played Elvis Presley?"

  Ellie held her arm up to her forehead dramatically? "How could I forget? Those hips! My parents were scandalized!"

  "Scandalized," Bernice laughed. "They all were. Lordy. I loved dancing to those songs. Splish Splash, Peggy Sue."

  In the background Heath put on Jerry Lewis and Great Balls of Fire and Ellie started dancing in the kitchen. Bernice started bopping in her chair and Heath held out his arm helping her up so that they were all dancing around in the kitchen. Bernice had some moves, Maxine noticed, swinging those hips in a way she wouldn't have believed possible ten minutes ago.

  But as they left Maxine was wondering how she could find out more about Devon and Devon's investments.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Leave it to the police," Ellie said.

  "I have to know," Maxine said stubbornly.

  "You have to live," Ellie said angrily. "Too many people are ending up dead. This isn't funny Maxine." They were both in Maxine's small apartment which limited just how far Ellie could pace in either direction. She'd come down to drop some mail off. Now, she shook her head in despair but Maxine was showing no signs of backing down.

  "Exactly. And that's why I have to find out if Devon's the one responsible," she said stubbornly as she looked through the bundle of mail Grandma Ellie had given her.

  "You told me the police had a forensic accountant on the case," Ellie said.

  "Who knows how many other cases he's working on at the same time?" Maxine said defiantly. "Besides I'm not talking to Devon yet. I'm seeing what I can find out on my own."

  "Remember curiosity killed the cat," Ellie said darkly.

  But it never hurt to ask a few questions Maxine thought entering the bank branch she'd worked at for five years, Canada Savings and Loans. She started with them working summers while going to school for business administration. When she'd finished they'd offered her a job in their loans department. After a year she'd been made loans officer. She still had a few contacts.

  Located in the local James Bay mall she approached her old stomping grounds nervously. Would Jim Branson be able to help her? Would he want to? She'd been thrilled when she first got a job working with Canada Savings and Loan. She felt so grown up.

  But by the end she'd approached each day with dread, her stomach forming knots. It was easy to give out money but when customers started having trouble paying it was a different matter. Her rate of defaulted loans had been lower than most but she hated having to deal with clients having financial difficulty. And while the banking rules in Canada had meant there hadn't been the same degree of financial melt-down as there had been in the States it still hadn't been pretty.

  She was painfully aware that right now she'd be considered a bad risk by the bank. No way would they want to lend her any more money. And if business didn't pick up soon she might very well be in the same position as so many of those she'd had to call loans on. And then what? Something told her no bank would be hiring her back anytime soon.

  Wearing skinny jeans and a white cami with a blue blazer she looked like a dressed down version of her former self, but she felt naked as James came to greet her.

  "It's so good to see you," he said a smile in his voice and she could feel herself start to relax. He probably had checked out her financials but he didn't seem to be holding it against her. Yet. In his thirties with light brown hair and a ready smile he put her at ease while showing her his new office.

  "You've almost got a window," she said laughing with him.

  "Not quite yet," he said easily. "I'd need to move branches for that. And I like it here."

  "Things are good with you?"

  "Can't complain," he said easily.

  She smiled self-deprecatingly. "I guess you've seen the news."

  "If no publicity is bad publicity you should be laughing," he said.

  "Not so much," she admitted. "And even if it were good for business this isn't the way I'd choose."

  "Perhaps not," he said frowning. "But sometimes you have to work with the hand you've been dealt." He crossed his arms.

  As if to hold her off? She shook her head. "I'm hoping you can help me," she said softly.

  "I'll do what I can," he said cautiously. "But you're not asking for a loan are you?"

  She shook her head and watched him visibly relax. "I have to figure out who's behind these – these – deaths," she said. "And I'm hearing rumors."

  "Rumors?" Jim Branson said.

  "Just let me run this by you and tell me what you think."

  "OK," he said.

  "Ron Vandemeer and Rick Dodd were building the West Shore developments. It wasn't going quite as smoothly as they hoped. They got Devon Matthews to loan them money. But something went wrong so they killed Ron."

  "Wait a minute. Hold on there," Jim held up his hand stopping her. "You need to talk to the police."

  "I did talk to the police. But I need proof!"

  "And you're here talking to me because…"

  "Because I know you," she said passionately. "You care about people and you want this stopped just as much as I do. You grew up with Ron too."

  He relaxed. "OK, you've got me there. But why would the police listen to me if they won't listen to you?"

  "You've got access to banking information I don't have. You can check it out and tell the police."

  He just looked at her. "You know as well as I do that it's not so easy to look into any client's financial affairs without their say so. With computers there's an electronic footprint left whenever you go near a file."

  "But if I want to invest in Devon's fund can't you look it up as part of your job?"

  He thought about it for a moment. "I could do that," he said cautiously. "Do you happen to know the name of her fund?"

  "Better Days Financial Fund," she said triumphantly. "Here, I brought a brochure. According to Tanya the fund is doing way better than it should be doing."

  He just looked at her. "Since when has Tanya become a financial guru?"

  She laughed. "OK, I get your point but she's been going out with some stockbroker. According to him no reputable fund can promise the kind of returns Devon's promising."

  "OK, OK." He looked at the brochure and then started typing things into his computer. It whirred and she saw multiple screens come up and go down quickly as he entered commands into different search engines. He shook his head.

  "I don't see anything here that says she's guilty of murder."

  "There's a link," Maxine said stubbornly "I just know there is. Follow the money. That's what Ron's mother said to me and I think she's right."

  "I think," he said gently, "she's a mother grieving her son."

  "Can you help me," she said urg
ently.

  He shook his head. "If I do find anything I'll let the police know. If they've got a forensic accountant on the job they're obviously aware there could be something wrong there too."

  "But they're not doing anything," she said impatiently. "Three people have died."

  "Which is the best reason I can think of to let the police do their jobs," Jim said firmly. "They'll find out who's responsible and they'll make sure they do it in a way that doesn't allow a killer to get loose on technicalities."

  She flushed, stung by his assumption that her actions might bring problems down the line. "But what if they don't find the killer," she said passionately. "At least look into their accounts. As much as you can."

  He smiled at her. "I'll do what I can do. In the mean-time how are you doing financially?"

  She sighed. "Not great," she said ruefully. "But as long as this doesn't drag on too much longer I'll be OK."

  "I can give you a personal loan for a couple of thousand if you're stuck," Jim said. "Just not a bank loan."

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I'll be fine Jim. But thank you."

  Which left her with another dead end she thought as she exited the bank.

  Chapter Twelve

  "I need to find some way to prove Devon's the killer," Maxine said chopping a block of dark chocolate into small pieces and adding it to her chocolate melter.

  "You need to leave this alone," Heath said firmly. "Let the police do their jobs." He was at work on something that looked, to Maxine's untrained eyes, more like an arts and crafts project, than any self-respecting chocolate dessert.

  But it was business. A family friend had asked them to put together a chocolate 'cake' that had a Star Wars theme. R2D2 hadn't been too much of a challenge. C3P0 was a little more. And then there were princesses and storm troopers and…

  "I'm not stopping them," she said firmly, adding more chocolate to the melting pot. "I'm just moving it along a little."

  "Just make sure you don't end up a victim yourself," Heath growled.

  "Why would anyone want to kill the caterer?" she said drily.

  "Why would they want to kill Rae-Ann. Or Ron Vandemeer?" Heath said. "They knew too much. You don't want to end up on the killer's radar."