1 Chocolate Worth Dying For

by Pat Amsden

  "But they were clients. I'm just a concerned citizen," she said airily. She stirred the melting chocolate pieces together swirling them around so that the newly added pieces blended into the already melted. She had it on the lowest setting having learned her lesson early on when she turned it up too high.

  "So how are you planning on getting Devon to reveal herself," he said observing her as if she were some form of alien.

  "I don't know," she said, hurt more than she could say by his attitude. He'd always been her strongest supporter from the moment she first started thinking of giving up her job at the bank and making this her full time business. She was used to his enthusiastic support in all her projects.

  The murders were bringing out another side to Heath. Less supportive and openly questioning her actions, she'd seen more anger in him over this, than anything else. Then again no one seemed to like her poking around in this case anymore.

  Common sense told her to leave it alone and let the cops do their job. Curiosity had her sticking her nose in where it didn't belong without stopping to think. Besides someone had to. Before her shop and her dreams became another victim of this killer. She'd just be careful. Whatever she did she'd make sure she had back-up. Mind you, that would be a little easier if everyone didn't back away and tell her to call the police every-time she needed some.

  She reached for the phone as it began to play a double 07 ring tone Sam had programmed in as a joke. "Au Chocolat."

  "Devon! I didn't expect to hear from you." She looked at Heath. "Is everything OK? Everyone seemed to be happy the other night when you were doing your presentation." She was aware she was babbling, not giving Devon a chance to talk…..

  "And that's why you'd like me to do the same type of chocolate drinks and treats for another presentation. Of course. How many? Let me just get a pen so I can write this down."

  She gestured for Heath to keep an eye on the melting chocolate while she went over to her desk area, finding a pen.

  "There will be around ten guests this time. And it's at a client's home. You're giving a presentation for some of her friends and family. Super!" Unfortunately she didn't seem to be able to stop her voice going up another octave as she wrote the address down quickly. "My best judgement. Of course. I'm happy you like my work."

  She ended the conversation and put the phone back down. "Why is my best client the one I suspect of offing everyone?"

  "Maybe you should leave it alone," Heath said. "Good customers are hard to come by."

  She laughed but it was a hollow laugh. "I'm thinking wine and an assortment of truffles. Nice and easy. I can listen in on her presentation and maybe figure out what she's doing that gives such high returns."

  "It couldn't be because she spends more time researching the stocks she recommends?" Heath said.

  Maxine just looked at him. "And no one else does? None of the big banks or investment firms? I don't know much about investing but I do know that if something seems too good to be true it usually is. I just need to find out why."

  "Whatever," Heath growled, molding some marshmallow rice Krispy mixture around the 'legs' of the space-ship. They'd be covered with white chocolate which he'd then spray paint with edible 'silver' paint. Right now he looked more like he wanted to destroy the whole thing.

  Maxine loved doing elegant and classy traditional chocolate tortes, decorating the tops with chocolate fans, or to-die-for devils food cakes. But clients had grown used to seeing the offerings of Duff, the magnificent, from Ace of Cakes. They not only wanted delicious cakes, they also wanted them shaped into everything from purses to cars, dolls and, in this case, space-ships from galaxies far, far away.

  As much as possible Maxine gave them what they wanted if they were willing to pay the price. Many were.

  And if that wasn't enough she was also ghost catering a bridal shower for one of the girls she'd worked with at the bank.

  "You just have to help me! I saw the cutest cupcake 'shoes' that would be perfect for my best friend Lara's bridal shower. You can make them for me and help me set everything up. Then I'll just pretend I did it. Is that OK?"

  Maxine didn't have the heart to tell Silvia no one was going to believe she baked and decorated the cupcakes herself. And even if Maxine didn't get credit for it, it should be a fun gig. Even if it did hurt just a tiny bit to know that Silvia wasn't giving her the credit for the job because she didn't want anyone wondering about the cupcakes and whether they were safe to eat, instead of just having a good time at the shower.

  "I saw the cutest 'shoe-boxes' on Tracey's website for her craft store and she says she has lots in stock so I thought I'd run over and pick them up this after-noon. Is there anything you can think of that you might need?" Maxine said now.

  "I'm good," Heath said. "You're really going to use shoe boxes?"

  "Not real shoe boxes but these are a bit smaller. Tracey had some ideas on how to decorate them. I thought they could be used in the set-up and then we'll give each of the girls one to take home with a cupcake when she leaves."

  At Tracey's, Maxine not only picked up an assortment of different colored 'shoe-boxes' papers, sparkles and goodies to really go all-out with the boxes, she also got a chance to ask just how the case was going.

  "Not fast enough," Tracey said wearily. "They need to find whoever's responsible and get them behind bars. Fast!"

  "But they must have some leads?"

  "If they do they're not sharing them with me," she said grimly. "Lindy is having a hard time sleeping and I," she broke off, shaking her head. "I've said too much."

  Dark circles under her eyes and a slightly gaunt look from a good ten pounds lost, made it more than apparent Tracey was suffering too. Maxine couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt over her earlier suspicions about Tracey even if she wasn't quite ready to give her up completely as a suspect. She felt an urge to hug her and tell Tracey everything was OK. She drew back though, afraid that might prove to be a lie.

  She wasn't at all prepared for her return to Au Chocolat however. The sound of sirens as she approached was not uncommon in downtown Victoria Particularly since she'd never been that good at de-coding ambulance, police or fire alarms.

  Now, as she turned onto Wharf Street a feeling of dread clamped down on her. Multiple police cars were parked in front of her shop. She put her head down over her steering wheel. What now?

  A honk from behind made it more than apparent she couldn't stay where she was, frozen in time. She drove into her parking spot and got out. Ignoring the nausea in her stomach mixed with an underlying sense of panic she made her way down the street to the front of her store where a small crowd had gathered.

  As she threaded her way through them Josie, from down the street, grabbed her hand, giving it a small squeeze. She squeezed back but she didn't have time to stay and chat. The door opened.

  "Heath!" It seemed as if everyone had disappeared and it was only the two of them as he raised his head to look at her. Her heart beat faster in her chest at the sight of him in handcuffs looking both confused and afraid. She wanted to protect him, to stop what was happening.

  She rushed forward. "There's been some mistake! Heath isn't, he couldn't…"

  Detective Patrick Shannon looked her straight in the face. His eyes were cold, his jaw set. She stepped back with a small cry. This was not the man she knew. The man she had gone out with, had talked and laughed with. Had trusted!

  "There's no mistake. You need to step back and let us do our jobs."

  "But what?"

  "If you go inside there's an officer who can explain what's happened." There was a momentary softening of his expression but it was so fleeting she couldn't be sure she hadn't imagined it. Right now she didn't much care.

  "This is a mistake," she called after Heath. "We'll get it straightened out. You'll see…"

  She watched in horror as the police put him in a police van like a…like a criminal Maxine thought giving a small, strangled cry. The shoeboxes dropped to the grou
nd as the police drove away. She watched in horror while a police officer exhorted the small crowd to move along.

  Inside the shop Ally and Marcus were holding each other while Jane tidied up after the last customers. Probably forever Maxine thought miserably. The stairs had crime scene tape draped around them. She went toward them only to find her way blocked by another police man who led her to a small table.

  "I realize this is a shock but let us do our jobs," he said quietly.

  "But I still don't know what's happened. I went out for shoe, shoeboxes," she said in a shaky voice. "And, and…" she sat down quickly. Jane brought her a coffee.

  "I'm sorry this had to happen," the officer said. "You're aware there's been an ongoing investigation into Ron Vandemeers' death, Rae-Ann Hunters and a possible connection to another."

  "Of course I'm aware of that," she burst out. "But it's not Heath. Heath would never…" her voice went up.

  "Please believe me, we have strong evidence," the police officer said.

  "From here? You've already searched over everything and there was nothing, nothing."

  "I can't discuss this with you," the police officer said firmly. "The evidence was found at his place of residence. We're going through your shop now to see if there's anything here."

  "But, but…"

  "For now your place will have to be kept closed."

  "For how long?"

  "That will depend on what we find," he said firmly. "We will be taking statements from each of you shortly. Then you'll be free to leave."

  Chapter Thirteen

  "Darling, I don't know any criminal lawyers," Grandma Ellie said. "I can call my lawyer and see if there's anyone he can recommend." She was wearing a painting smock liberally covered with paint, having dropped everything when she saw Maxine come in.

  "It has to be somebody good," Maxine said, twisting a tea towel in her hand. "I don't care how much it costs. I'll find the money somehow."

  "If there's really nothing to it he'll be released before you know it," her Grandma said soothingly as she made a pot of tea. "Do you know what they have?"

  "Patrick wouldn't even talk to me and they won't allow me to see him." Maxine blinked back tears. "This is so unfair. Heath wouldn't hurt a flea. He certainly wouldn't, wouldn't…" She couldn't bring herself to say the word murder in connection with Heath.

  "But didn't you say he'd been angry lately?"

  "Because of what was going on. That doesn't mean anything."

  Ellie held up her hand. "You don't have to convince me. I've always liked Heath. But the police searched his place. They must have found something."

  "I don't care what they found. He's innocent," Maxine burst out.

  "You sit there and have some tea," Ellie said. "I'm going to call my lawyer. Do you have any contacts for Heath?"

  "Contacts?"

  "You must have some contacts from when you hired him."

  "Oh, right," she said realizing. With newfound hope she pulled out her laptop and went into her employee files. Luckily she wasn't locked out of those, although the police had already confiscated her shop computer. She opened up the new hires section. Considering her shop had been open less than six months, really, all hires were in this section. Heath Rogers. She looked through, spotting next of kin. Helen Rogers.

  Now that she thought about it she was pretty sure his mother had come into the shop on more than one occasion. She had a vague recollection of a small, slightly timid older lady, who'd seemed even smaller standing next to Heath. But she'd had the same brown hair and facial features. He'd introduced her on one occasion and she'd seemed very nice.

  She shivered slightly. Hard as this was for her it must be far worse for his mother. She must know by now. Surely the police would have talked to her. Would Heath have called her? Would he be allowed to?

  She gave a stifled cry. "I don't know anything about the justice system," she said in frustration. "Only what I watch on TV."

  "Even after dating a cop?" Ellie asked returning to the living room.

  "Especially after dating a cop," she said bitterly. "I felt as if I was talking to a total stranger today."

  "He does have to follow procedure," Grandma Ellie said mildly. "I don't imagine this is easy on him either."

  "I know. But his eyes! His eyes were so cold," she said. "As if I'd become public enemy number one." Even as she took the pro-offered cup of tea she felt a shiver go through her.

  "We'll get it sorted out. I've called my lawyer and she gave me a referral to a Chris Sayers. She says he's very good."

  "That's something then. I'm going over to his mother's place. I need to let her know we'll do everything we can and I don't want to do it over the phone." She looked at her grandmother. "Did you want to come?"

  "I thought you'd never ask."

  "What do you take for something like this? Flowers don't seem right," Maxine said

  "Even Emily Post didn't cover social etiquette for family members suspected of -crimes," her grandma said wryly. "I don't think we need to worry about it right now. Do you know where she lives?"

  "I have the address. It's in Fairfield."

  "Not far at all," Ellie said. "Let me just change into something without paint splatters."

  Maxine looked down at her own yoga pants and top and decided they'd be fine. While her grandma changed she quickly texted Patrick. 'Call me. I need to talk to you.' She didn't expect him to answer this text any sooner than the half dozen she'd already sent but she didn't know what else to do.

  The apartment Helen Rogers lived in was just off Cook Street. It was older with well-kept grounds featuring flowering Rhododendron in a riot of colour. They buzzed the intercom and were rewarded when Helen answered a minute later.

  "Come right up. I'm on the third floor."

  They should've brought chocolate Maxine thought as they stepped off the elevator. Chocolate was never wrong. It went with everything. Knocking on the door she couldn't help but feel they'd made a mistake coming. Why would she want to see them?

  Helen Rogers opened the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying but she smiled inviting them in politely. "I'm sorry the place is a mess. I just haven't-haven't."

  "That's quite all right," Grandma Ellie said quickly.

  "We just came to make sure you were all right." Maxine stopped aware of what an inane statement that was. How could everything be all right when her son had just been arrested for murder?

  A larger apartment than many of the newer, more modern ones, sunlight streamed in from the balcony windows. On the wall she saw pictures of Heath and two other boys who looked like brothers. Heath had mentioned something about a brother in the past. Helen was in many of them.

  "From happier times," Helen said smiling as she noticed Maxine looking at pictures.

  "There will be more," Maxine said quickly. "We know Heath isn't guilty. He just couldn't, couldn't. We've hired a criminal lawyer to meet with him," she finished abruptly.

  His mother smiled politely. "Have a seat dear."

  And so they did. As they chatted inanely about the weather and if it was likely to be sunny the next day while Helen fixed them coffee she wanted to scream. It seemed hugely wrong to her that they could sit and talk about weather while Heath remained in jail.

  "Have you seen him yet," Maxine asked abruptly. "Is he OK?"

  His mother smiled at her. "As well as could be expected under the circumstances. I've been talking to my bank about cashing in some RRSP's so that he could be released on bail. And his older brother, Bill is coming home tonight. From Toronto," she said.

  "That must be a great comfort to you," Grandma Ellie said.

  Maxine found herself wishing she had her grandma's way with people. She was more like a bull in the china shop with them, putting her foot in her mouth without even trying. Half the time when she realized what she'd done she proceeded to stick her second foot in making it worse.

  "My family has never gone through anything like this before."


  "I'm so sorry," Maxine said.

  "It's not your fault," his mother said, looking her over. "Heath never said anything but good about you."

  "He saw the good in everyone," Maxine said smiling.

  "Not everybody," his mother said sighing. "He was angry the first time he saw Rae-Ann but it wasn't her fault."

  "He knew Rae-Ann," Maxine squeaked. She jumped as the hot coffee she'd just spilled hit her leg.

  "She was my sister-in-law. Ex sister-in-law. Naturally when Steve and I separated we didn't really see her anymore. Anyway Heath thought she should've helped out more. I told him he was wrong. She offered. A lot of times." She sighed again. "Maybe I should've taken the help. If I'd had any idea…" she shook her head sadly.

  "You don't believe Heath is guilty do you?" Maxine said sitting up, in horror. His own mother?

  "Of course not," she said shaking her head. "But the knife they found in his apartment was, was…"she started to cry softly.

  "They found the knife. But I thought the knife was at the crime scene," Maxine said, eyes wide.

  His mother nodded, barely looking at her as Grandma Ellie rushed to find tissues. "They said, they said another knife was used as well. And that's the one, the one that was…" She paused unable to finish the sentence. "But there's an explanation for it. I'm sure there is."

  "There has to be!" Maxine said, rushing to give her napkins, Grandma Ellie handed her as Helen cried harder now.

  "He's always been such a good son. He couldn't do something like this. He just couldn't." Helen was beside herself in her grief. It was hard to believe it could be anything but real.

  They left an hour later. Maxine felt shell-shocked. She still believed Heath was innocent, But she couldn't understand how the knife used to kill could have ended up in his apartment. And why hadn't he said anything about knowing Rae-Ann before this? He had to know she would have believed him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "I can't ask Patrick to go with me," she said, her voice going up slightly. "My shop is officially closed down, remember?" Maxine looked up at her Grandma Ellie in despair as she continued to fill truffle shells quickly with a chocolate raspberry mixture, moving from one to the other, with practised ease.