Fatal Chocolate Obsession (Death by Chocolate Book 5)

by Sally Berneathy

  I kept stirring. “Where are the cups?”

  “I’ll get them.”

  I did not want him near me where he could watch too closely. I turned and showed my teeth. “Oh, no, I want you to just sit there and let me do this for you.”

  He beamed. “All right, sweetheart. The cups are in the cabinet over the coffee maker.”

  “Thank you.” I batted my eyes and opened the cabinet door. Three of the white mugs had messages on them. I (heart) chocolate. Life is short; eat chocolate first. Lindsay’s mug.

  Holy crap. Suddenly Grady’s flirtation with me made more sense. He must have known about his son’s obsession. Possibly he had tried to get me to hook up with him in an effort to torment his already-abused son. I felt a little sorry for Brandon. Not sorry enough to let him live, however.

  I took down my mug and the I (heart) chocolate one.

  While I mixed the drugs with the cocoa, I needed to divert his attention from my cooking, find something he was obsessed with besides me.

  “What do you think about those Royals?” All men were obsessed with football.

  “You mean the baseball team?”

  I measured two cups of milk into the saucepan using the heart mug so it would have a little milk in the bottom. “Whatever. Think they’ll make it to the Superbowl?”

  He laughed. “My silly lady. The Superbowl is football. You don’t have to pretend to be interested in that stuff. I know you don’t watch sports.”

  I shuddered, imagining him outside my window, watching me watching Castle, Bones, Person of Interest and Big Bang Theory but no ball games.

  “I thought you might be interested. You look like maybe you played football in high school.” I stirred the hot chocolate with one hand while the other hand slipped some of the capsules out of my pocket. I pressed against the white coating with my thumbnail, trying to split it.

  “I didn’t like high school.” He sounded irritated. Damn. What could I talk about that wouldn’t upset him?

  “How many children do you think we should have?” Blasted capsule was tougher than it looked. I have no trouble piercing the plastic seal on a can of cocoa with that thumbnail. I finally made a slit and dropped the whole thing into the quarter inch of milk in the bottom of the cup. The capsules were made to dissolve in someone’s stomach. With any luck, they’d dissolve in the milk.

  “I think two, a boy and a girl.” He sounded happy. I’d found the key. Feed his delusions. “But if you want three, we can talk about it.”

  Tina had three. What would those boys do without their mother? My anger gave extra strength to my thumbnail. I burst open a capsule and dumped the contents into the cup then put the shell back in my pocket. Capsules weren’t so strong when I was appropriately angry. I added two more then a little extra cocoa and sugar to hide whatever taste the drugs might have.

  The beverage began to steam. “Almost done.” My voice rose to a falsetto. “I hope you like it. I’ll make it for our son and daughter one day.”

  “You know I’ll love it.”

  I dumped another couple of capsules into the heart cup then poured in the steaming chocolate and stirred Brandon’s special blend very fast. “You know what would make this really good? Putting it in a blender until it’s all foamy.” And the pills are completely dissolved.

  “We don’t have a blender, but I’ll get you one tomorrow.”

  I’d have to settle for extra stirring. I set both cups on the table, the doctored brew in front of Brandon, then sat down and sipped from my cup.

  Brandon frowned.

  I froze in mid-sip. What had I done now?

  “That’s my cup.”

  Damn! “It has my name on it.”

  “I always drink out of that cup.”

  “I’ve already drunk out of it.”

  He smiled. “I don’t mind drinking after you.”

  I tried to imitate a puppy begging for a treat. “Please? I want to drink out of the cup you drank from yesterday.” I held the cup under discussion between both hands and tilted my head to one side. I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right since I don’t have a dog. I only have a cat who looks at me threateningly when he wants a treat. I didn’t think a threatening look was likely to get me anywhere with Brandon.

  He melted. “If that’s what my baby wants, that’s what she’ll get.”

  “Bottoms up!”

  I lifted my cup to my lips and watched Brandon take a drink. He grimaced. Guess the taste of drugs trumped the taste of chocolate.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Do you like my cocoa?”

  “It tastes—”

  “Yummy! I know!”

  I drank some more.

  He didn’t.

  “Don’t you like the chocolate I made for you?”

  “It’s not as good as the desserts you make at your restaurant.”

  “It’s the skim milk. I always use whole milk or half and half at the restaurant.”

  “It tastes…funny.”

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes then let out a loud wail. “You don’t like my cocoa! I can’t bear it!” I laid my head on the table and made sobbing noises.

  “I do like it! See, I’m drinking it!”

  I lifted my head. “I’m so glad. I couldn’t stand it if you didn’t like my cooking. I live to cook for you. I’ll be your own personal chocolatier from now on. You’ll see. We’re going to be so happy. Just you and me and Brandon Jr. and little Lindsay.” I hoped the drug took effect rapidly. I wasn’t sure how many more absurdities I could spin.

  He drained his cup then looked inside. “You didn’t get all the sugar stirred up. No wonder it tasted funny.”

  I snatched the mug away from him. “How could I be so careless?” So careless not to get all the pills dissolved. I hoped he’d swallowed enough to take him down. “Here, have some of mine.” I offered him my cup.

  He took it and sipped then smiled. “I love putting my lips where yours have been.”

  Yuck. “Drink up and let’s go to the living room and hold hands until the pizza gets here.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He followed me to the living room where my gory purse rested on the coffee table on top of my wallet and lipstick. I averted my gaze and steeled myself to sit on the musty sofa and hold his hand for—how long? Ten minutes? Fifteen? I could do anything for that long. I once held a frog for five minutes. Of course, I was in the third grade and Ronnie Duncan dared me at recess.

  I sat on the sofa.

  He sat beside me and took my hand.

  Frog. It was like holding the frog. The drugs would kick in soon.

  But what if I hadn’t given him enough?

  What if the pills had lost their potency?

  What if he reacted differently than normal people and didn’t get sleepy at all?

  The hand holding mine relaxed its death grip. That was a good sign.

  I yawned. “Hot chocolate is so soothing. Makes me want to curl up and take a nap. How about you? Feeling a little sleepy?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m wide awake.” His words came slowly, like Zach’s when he’s tired but doesn’t want to go to bed.

  “This sofa is so cushy and soft. Makes me want to sit back and close my eyes for just a minute. Why don’t we do that?”

  “Whatever my baby wants.” He dropped his arm around my shoulders and we settled back on the musty, dusty sofa. His arm got heavier and his breathing slowed.

  The doorbell rang.

  Brandon sat upright, blinking. Pizza delivery guy had really bad timing.

  The doorbell rang again followed by pounding on the door. “Open up! Police!”

  “Trent!” I shouted.

  “No! He can’t have you! You’re mine!” Brandon slurred. He stood, swayed, and staggered toward the door. Stumbled. Fell flat on his face.

  Finally!

  A crash sounded and the door splintered.

  I raced across the room, careful not to touch Brandon’s motionless body.
The hand holding had been quite enough physical contact.

  Fred and Trent rushed into the room. Trent held a gun. It was big and black and the most beautiful gun I’d ever seen. I ran to them, tried to fling myself into all four of their arms at once.

  “Omigawd, Lindsay!” Trent held my shoulder and examined my face.

  “What happened to you?” Fred asked.

  I grinned. “You should see the other guy.” I stepped back so they could see Brandon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Is he dead?” Trent pressed me tightly against him. I chose to believe it was because he was worried about me, not because he didn’t want a murder suspect to escape.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I gave him a couple of pills.”

  “A couple?”

  “A few.” That was all I was going to admit without talking to my lawyer.

  Fred pressed his fingers to Brandon’s neck. “He has a pulse. Slow but strong. What kind of pills did you give him?”

  “The ones in the bathroom that said they might make him drowsy.”

  “How many did you give him?” Trent asked.

  I watched the slow rise and fall of Brandon’s chest and touched my swollen eye, wiggled my loose tooth. I thought of Bob lying dead in the alley, of Ginger with blood in her hair, of Tina’s motherless children. “Not enough.”

  Fred lifted each of Brandon’s eyelids and studied his pupils then stood and focused on my face. “Did he do that to you?”

  I nodded.

  “Trent, you should probably call an ambulance for this guy, but I wouldn’t be in any great hurry. I’ll get the prescription bottle from the bathroom.”

  He left the room. Trent released me and took out his cell phone.

  “Did somebody order a pizza?” From the tentative sound of the boy’s voice, I assumed he didn’t normally deliver pizzas to homes with the front door broken down.

  “Yes,” I said. I inhaled the spicy, yeasty smell of the pizza and realized, now that my stomach was no longer clenched into a solid chunk of granite, I was hungry. “Let me get my purse.” I took one step toward the coffee table and stopped. My bloody purse still covered my wallet. “Oh.” I turned back to Trent. “I…uh…could you pay for the pizza?”

  “Sure.” He gave me a strange look, took his wallet from his pocket and handed the boy some bills. The boy handed him the pizza and left. “Are you planning to eat this now?”

  I stood on one foot then the other. “Yes. No. I was. My purse…Grady Mathis is in the garage. Well, his body is.”

  Fred strode back into the room with an empty prescription bottle. “This must be what you gave him. He’ll sleep for a while, but he’s not likely to die.” His gaze dropped to the box Trent held. “Is pizza standard for rescue operations?”

  Trent handed me the box. “I think we’ve finally found Grady Mathis.”

  I pointed Trent to the garage door. Fred followed. Brandon snored.

  I set the pizza in the kitchen, walked to the open door and peered into the garage.

  Fred stood a couple of feet away from the body, observing, being a law-abiding citizen and not disturbing the crime scene. That probably irritated him to no end.

  Trent stood next to the body with his phone pressed to his ear. “I need two ambulances and the crime scene techs. I’ve got a dead body, an overdose, and a victim who’s been beaten.”

  A victim who’s been beaten? A victim? And just when I was ready to forgive him for being a cop.

  “You did not just call for an ambulance for me,” I said.

  “Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?”

  “I’m fine. I’m not a victim and I’m not going to any stinking hospital.”

  Fred stepped forward. “In fairness to Lindsay, most hospitals do smell like antiseptic. But you should go anyway. Tina’s been asking for you.”

  “Tina? Tina’s alive?”

  “No thanks to the man asleep in the living room.” Trent jerked his head in Brandon’s direction. “He followed your car to the park—”

  I flinched. “Yeah, he put a tracker on it when I took it to his body shop. He was obsessed with me. When he found Tina sitting in my car, holding the butterfly, he thought she’d stolen them both from me. He thought he killed her.”

  Trent nodded. “He beat the crap out of her and left her for dead, but she fooled him. Said she’d done it with Ken so many times, she knew how to curl in a ball and protect herself. As soon as he left, she called 911 and when they got there, she demanded to speak to me. She’s the reason we found you.”

  “Brandon told her who he was?”

  “No. I took a picture of Grady to the hospital and showed it to her. I knew you were in trouble when a man answered your phone and wouldn’t let me speak to you, but I thought it was Grady. That temporary phone didn’t have GPS, so we weren’t sure where you were. Fred was going to try the shop and I was going to come here. Then I got Tina’s call. She recognized Grady’s picture but said he wasn’t her attacker, that she thought it was the man’s son. We came straight here.”

  “I’m so glad she’s okay. I thought he killed her. What about the kids? Are they all right?” I felt certain they were. It would take more than a psycho killer to take those kids down. “Does Ken have them?”

  Trent shook his head. “She won’t tell us where her boys are. Says they’re safe and Ken’s not going to get them. He’s been at the hospital, making a scene, demanding to see her and demanding to have his kids.”

  I had a horrible feeling I knew where those kids were. My house was easy walking distance from that park. Running distance for three hyperactive boys. “I’ve got to get home. By the way, Brandon killed Ginger and Bob and tried to kill Rick.”

  I started back into the house but Trent grabbed my shoulder. “You can’t go anywhere. You’re a witness to…” He waved a hand toward my face. “Whatever Brandon did to you. What you did to him. And you can’t drop a bomb like accusing Brandon of killing two people and trying to kill another then just walk out.”

  I sighed and gave up. Not because Trent told me I couldn’t leave but because I didn’t have my car. “Can I eat the pizza, or is that evidence too?”

  Trent lifted his hands in resignation. “Go ahead and eat the pizza. Just don’t disturb anything.”

  I heard sirens in the distance.

  “I need to go somewhere.” Fred brushed past me, heading for the front door.

  Of course he was leaving. Authorities were on their way. He wouldn’t want to be seen by the cops. They might recognize him from the Most Wanted posters. Or his presence might compromise his black ops mission. “Aren’t you going to stop him from leaving?” I demanded.

  “No. He doesn’t have to be here.”

  “You know, don’t you?” They’d spent the day together, done all that male bonding, and now Trent knew who Fred really was and I didn’t.

  Trent frowned. “I know what? You really do need to go to the hospital and let the doctors check you for a concussion. You can come to the station tomorrow and give your statement.”

  I opened the pizza box and lifted out a piece. The sirens were getting closer. I’d better eat fast. Hospital food is awful, and they frown on pizza deliveries.

  ***

  I did not have a concussion, just two black eyes, a split lip and that loose tooth which the doctor said would probably heal on its own if I quit wiggling it. They wanted to keep me overnight for observation, but after being stalked by Brandon, I’d had enough observation.

  When the doctor finished poking and prodding, I escaped and found my way to Tina’s room.

  She lay in the stark hospital bed with an IV connected to one arm. Bruises covered everything that wasn’t covered by the sheet. I suspected there were plenty more beneath the sheet.

  She smiled when I walked in. “You look almost as bad as I do.”

  I sat down in an uncomfortable chair beside her bed. “That getting knocked around isn’t as much fun as it sounds.”

&nb
sp; “Definitely not. I’ve had my fill of it. When I get out of here, I’m going to take Ken to court and make sure he never hurts me or my kids again.”

  “Where is he? I heard he was harassing you.”

  “He was until that neighbor of yours, the one with white hair, took him aside and talked to him. Then he left and hasn’t been back.”

  Maybe Fred hadn’t been running from the cops after all. Maybe he’d come to the hospital to do an intervention with Ken. “What did Fred say to him?”

  “I have no idea. Ken was sitting in that chair where you’re sitting now. The security guards had already warned him if he didn’t stop yelling and threatening me, he’d have to leave. So he was sitting there quietly, leaning close, muttering threats, when Fred came in. He grabbed Ken by the back of his T-shirt and pulled him up. Ken’s face got red, and he started swinging. Fred grabbed his arms and whispered something in his ear. Ken went white, Fred wrapped his arm around Ken’s shoulders, and they left the room. That’s the last I saw of either of them.”

  Another Fred mystery.

  The mystery man appeared in the doorway. “I thought you might need a ride home.”

  “I do, and I also need to know what you said to Ken.”

  He settled his lanky frame into the chair on the opposite side of Tina’s bed. “I told him about the camera I planted in his bedroom. You know how awful it is to feel that somebody’s been watching you.”

  “I do, but you said you couldn’t use the video as evidence since it would be invasion of privacy.”

  “That’s true. Ken and I had a long chat and I explained some things to him. He won’t be bothering Tina or the kids anymore. He’ll sign the divorce papers, pay a decent amount of child support and give her full custody. Are you ready to go home, Lindsay? Paula and Sophie have been worried about you. Sophie’s got a bottle of wine chilling and Zach saved you one of the brownies Paula brought home.”

  “Is my house still standing?”

  “One side’s on the ground, but the rest is intact.”

  Tina tried to sit up in bed, a panic-stricken look on her face. “The boys—”

  “He’s kidding,” I assured her.

  “I told them to go to…” She looked at Fred.