by Nancy CoCo
Directions
Mix the first five ingredients in a medium sauce pan. Slowly whisk in milk. The cocoa will float to the top, but it will mix in.
Cook on medium heat, stirring constantly until the pudding boils. You will see little volcano like plops. Boil for one minute and remove from heat.
Stir in butter and vanilla. Dish into four pudding dishes. To prevent skin from forming, cover with plastic wrap.
Chill until cool. Enjoy!
Chapter 25
The next morning the dress was carefully boxed and set out for the package delivery guy to pick up. I had gotten about five hours of sleep and when I came downstairs, Sandy was in the fudge shop making the first two batches of fudge. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the coffee bar and headed inside the fudge shop to look over the day’s work.
“You had an eventful evening,” she said when I walked into the kitchen.
“How do you know?”
She grinned. “Small island. It’s hard to keep secrets.”
“Unless you’re a killer,” I muttered.
“Even then,” she said with a straight face.
I watched her stir the boiling liquid base for the next tray of fudge. “Today is a big day for Douglas and Frances. Do you think we’ve been able to keep that a secret?”
“She might suspect, but she’ll be happy.”
I sipped my coffee in silence while the radio played soft tunes. Once the fudge was ready to be poured, I put down my cup and helped her lift the giant copper kettle and pour the boiling liquid onto the cooling table. We worked in tandem, stirring it with paddles until it cooled. I added pieces of nuts and berries, then folded it into a long loaf and cut it into one pound pieces and placed them on a tray.
Sandy washed the kettle and began the next batch. The contrast of the everyday morning compared to the excitement and glamour of the night before was stark. I thought about what Eleanor had said about being just another unimaginative fudge shop on a street where there was fudge on every corner.
The thought made me smile. This was my heritage and the life I had chosen. I would rather be in the McMurphy making fudge than on any one of the yachts in the harbor or buildings in Detroit or Chicago where people lived and worked indoors, rarely going outside.
I found something comforting about living in a place where my family had lived for over one hundred years. They’d crafted something that made memories for generations before me and for generations to come. While I might not be rich and famous, what I did still made a difference in the magic of a little kid’s life or the magic of a pair of senior citizens who suddenly found themselves in love again.
Jenn and Mal came bounding down the stairs at seven AM. One hour before Frances was set to come in to work.
“Good morning, ladies. Are we ready for the big day?” Jenn grabbed a cup of coffee, adding flavored syrup, sugar, and cream. “I’ve got a sharp schedule to keep if we are going to pull this off. Sunset is roughly ten o’clock. Mr. Devaney is going to pick her up at eight-fifteen. They are going to ride Jessops’ best carriage around the island. Then end up at the McMurphy where they will head up to the roof for cocktails and sunset. Right after sunset, the waitstaff will light the candles and the fairy lights and dinner will be served with dessert around ten thirty. Then he will ask her to dance to his song and when it is done, he’ll go down on one knee and ask her. I’ve got cameras in two corners to catch all the special moments. Susy next door will edit the film down into a keepsake five minutes.” Jenn glanced at her watch. “Today’s weather is perfect with no rain in sight. The wind will be slight, giving the sheer curtains a soft billowing effect while leaving the view of the lake and the stars.” She sighed. “Perfection.”
“What’s perfection?” Frances said as she came in from the back alley door.
Jenn jumped. “Oh . . . the weather. I was just saying how the weather is going to be perfect tonight.”
Mal barked and jumped up to twirl. Frances pulled a treat out of the treat jar and gave her a reward for being cute. Jenn sent me a look that said she knew she almost got caught.
I looked at my watch. “You’re here early.”
“I was up,” Frances said with a shrug.
“How was your day of beauty?” I asked.
Jenn looked from me to Frances and back.
“Mr. Devaney gave her a spa day for her birthday,” I explained. “Frances went yesterday.”
She took off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair. She sported new blond highlights and a fresh cut. “It was fun.”
“Oh, love the hair,” Jenn said and went over to look at the highlights. “Who was your colorist?”
“Kendra Goering,” Frances said. “She put in low lights and highlights. I feel like a princess.”
“Frances had her nails done, too.” I walked over to lift Frances’s hand. “French tips are very nice.”
“She wanted to do silver glitter,” Frances said, “but I thought it was a bit too much for a woman my age.”
“Pedicure, too?” Jenn asked.
“The works, along with a relaxing facial,” Frances said. “I slept so well I was up early.”
“I heard you have a big date tonight.” Jenn wagged her eyebrows. “Is he taking you anywhere special?”
I turned and looked at Sandy in the fudge shop. She shrugged. If I looked at Jenn, I’d give away my surprise at her question.
“Oh, nothing too fancy, I hope,” Frances said. “It’s really not our style.”
“But you’re going to dress up, right?” Jenn asked.
Frances shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“I can help you pick out something nice,” Jenn volunteered.
“She does a great job,” I said. “She dressed me for yesterday’s gala.”
“How did that go?” Frances asked.
“I thought you would have heard,” I said.
Frances and Jenn turned to stare at me.
“Heard what exactly?” Frances asked.
I felt the heat of a blush rush over my cheeks. “Nothing.” I checked my watch. “Won’t you look at the time? Mal needs her walk.” I grabbed Mal’s leash from its hook beside the mailboxes and put it on her.
“Allie, what happened?” Jenn asked, her hands on her hips.
“Nothing too important. I’m fine. Everyone is fine.”
Mal was happy to be leashed and pulled me toward the back door of the McMurphy.
“Just if you hear anything, take it with a grain of salt. Okay?”
“Allie . . .” Frances called after me.
“Be back in a bit.” I waved goodbye as Mal and I raced out of the McMurphy and down the alley before anyone could follow. I wanted to pick up my pup and kiss her, but she was intent on finding the right patch of grass for her business. I cleaned up after her and thought about last night.
Trent had said that bartenders take their own booze when they work a party on a boat—sort of like caterers take their own food when they have a gig. That meant the bartenders had to have a liquor store or a distributor to buy their booze from. I texted Jenn, figuring she would know. She planned parties and often times bartenders were staffing an open bar.
Me: Jenn, do you ever hire bartenders for your parties?
Jenn: Yes, sometimes. Why?
Me: Do you buy the liquor or do they?
Jenn: If the venue has a liquor license the venue provides the liquor. If it is on a picnic area or boat then I usually go through McGriff’s.
Me: McGriff’s?
Jenn: They cater open bar, which includes the liquor and the staff, set up and tear down.
Me: Where is McGriff’s?
Jenn: On Main Street next to The Island Bookstore.
Me: Thanks.
Jenn: Why?
Me: Following a hunch.
Jenn: Be careful. We need you for Frances’s big night.
Me: Mal has me covered. I added a smiley face emoji.
I tugged on Mal’s leash. “Come on,
Mal. We have a store to visit.”
Most of the stores on Main Street didn’t open until ten. I glanced at my watch. It was just after nine. I took a chance anyway and headed to Mc-Griff’s. It was closed. I walked Mal around to the alley behind. The back door was open so I stepped over the threshold. “Hello?” I called.
“Be right with you,” a husky male voice called back.
Mal found an interesting smell next to the Dumpster just outside the door. I tugged her toward me. She pulled back. When she got interested in something, it was not usually a good sign.
“Can I help you?” A big burly guy with sandy hair came around the corner wiping his hands on a cloth.
“Yes, hi. I’m Allie McMurphy. I run the McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop.”
“Alex Hicks. I run McGriff’s Liquors. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I’m going to redo the McMurphy’s roof as an event space. Since I would rarely need a bartender, I don’t want to get into the whole liquor license thing. My friend Jenn Christensen told me that you hire out a full-service bar complete with liquor, bartender, set up, and tear down. Is that true?”
“It’s one of the things we do,” he agreed.
Mal tugged on the leash as she nosed around the Dumpster. I tugged back. “Sorry, my dog seems to be interested in something in your Dumpster.”
“Must be yesterday’s chicken sandwich,” he said.
“Right, okay. I was wondering if your catering service used bartenders from the island or off island.”
“Does it matter?” he asked with a shrug.
“I like to hire local,” I said with a quick smile.
“Sure. Yeah. Most of the guys freelance with me. We don’t talk about it too much because they are usually in competition with each other. Some of them work for the Jessops and some not. But yeah, I hire locals.”
“Great.” I said. “Do you have a business card or a price list I can take with me, Alex?”
“Oh, sure. Come on in. I’ve got a price list on my desk.”
I yanked Mal’s leash and practically dragged her away from the Dumpster. We followed Alex down the dark hallway and into the tiny back office. The light was on. From the software displayed on his computer screen, I could tell he’d been doing inventory.
“I use that inventory software, too,” I said conversationally.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good once you get the hang of it.” He turned and handed me a flyer and his business card. “This lists all our services and prices for this season. Things might go up next season. I heard talk about an increase in minimum wage and how tips might be cut out and straight salary required on these guys.” He leaned in closer. “Frankly, these guys make more in tips than they could bring home in salary after taxes. I don’t see how the government is going to be able to make their life better.”
I took the papers and glanced at the standard packages. “How do you keep your inventory right if you have different guys doing different packages?”
“Oh, it’s easy really. I pull what is needed for that day’s gig and put it in a box with the bartender’s name on it. All they have to do is pick up their box and off they go. They barkeep until the booze is gone or time is up.”
“What do they do with any leftover liquor?”
“Honey, there’s no such thing as leftover liquor.” He chuckled.
“Right.” I walked toward the door, stopping on the threshold and turning back to Alex. “One more thing.”
“Sure.”
“Do you watch the boxes after you put them out?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you keep an eye on the boxes and make sure that the guys are picking up the right box and no one is tampering with the boxes.”
“Look, I trust my guys, okay? I inventory the boxes. They know they have to double-check the boxes against the order before they leave. If there’s a discrepancy, we deal with it before it ever goes to the client.”
“But you don’t watch the boxes,” I confirmed.
“Like I said, I trust my guys.”
“So any one of your guys could trade bottles—say substitute cheaper vodka for the vodka you put in the box—and you would never know.”
He frowned again. “Well, now if I caught them doing that, they know I’d fire their butts fast. Plus I’d make sure they didn’t work on the island again. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Thanks, Alex.” I shook his hand. “It was nice to meet you.” I raised the papers. “We’ll be doing more business next year once the roof space is finished.”
He smiled. “Great. You can count on McGriff’s.”
I could count on McGriff’s to provide an opportunity for Harold to have drugged people on the Scoundrel. He could have easily slipped a drugged bottle of vodka or whiskey in the box that Scott took on board. But how would he know that Reggie would drink that drink and not Paige?
Mal stopped me at the Dumpster one more time. I sighed. “What is it, girl?” I looked inside the Dumpster. Contrary to Alex’s comment about chicken, all I saw were boxes. Then I noticed the handwritten names on the boxes. Did the bartenders bring their boxes back here? That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? I dug around a little bit, but there was no way I was climbing into the Dumpster.
Under the top layer of boxes was a box marked SCOTT FOR THE SCOUNDREL. I didn’t want to touch anything in case there was evidence inside. A simple look around showed me a mop drying against the back of the building. I grabbed it and used the handle to push the top boxes away. Opening a flap of the box marked SCOTT, I saw empty bottles inside. My heart pounded. This could be it. Evidence!
I put the mop down and dialed Rex.
“Manning,” he said in his sexy authoritative voice.
“Hi Rex. It’s Allie.”
“Is everything okay?”
I couldn’t help my wry smile that he would assume I was in trouble every time I called. “Yes, everything is okay. I’m calling because I think I may have more evidence in Carin Moore’s murder.”
His tone turned to scolding. “Allie, you need to let this one go.”
“I can’t. Eleanor and Harold made it personal last night when they tried to kidnap me.”
“Allegedly,” he pointed out.
“That’s your word not mine. But I didn’t call to argue. I’m in the back alley behind McGriff’s. Mal was sniffing around the Dumpster.”
“Not another murder.”
“No,” I confirmed with a sigh. “But there is a box with words Scott and The Scoundrel handwritten on the side. Inside are empty bottles. I think you should call Shane out here to collect them. There might be evidence inside one of them that Reggie and the others on the Scoundrel were drugged that night. Harold and Scott work freelance bartending for McGriff’s and Alex told me he boxes up the inventory for each job. It sits for the bartenders to pick up. Harold could have slipped a tainted bottle into the mix. No way for Scott to know. The bartenders simply check that they have the requested inventory in the box and they go to the gig.”
“Allie—”
“Please.” I cut him off. “I know it’s a long shot, but just check it out. Mal sniffed up the box. She’s been right a hundred percent of the time.”
Rex sighed. “Fine. I’ll come collect the box myself and get it to Shane. Even if we find drugs on the bottles, there is no way to prove that Harold put them there.”
“Unless you find his fingerprints on the bottle,” I said.
“Allie, this isn’t television. There are other reasons that his fingerprints might be on the bottles.”
“Are you coming down?”
“I’ll be there.”
I hung up the phone and frowned. Rex was right. It was a long shot. I sighed and put the mop back where it was when I noticed Mal nosing around the wheel of the Dumpster. “What is it?”
I got down low and looked around. Behind the wheel was a syringe. My heart beat a little faster. Was this the evidence that would prove Harold had
drugged those on the Scoundrel?
When I stood, I saw Rex coming down the alley. “All right,” he said, putting on evidence gloves. “Let’s take a look at this Dumpster.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Thank you. And you might want to bag the syringe that’s behind the wheel.”
“What?” His eyes narrowed.
“Mal said there was something near the wheel.” I squatted back down.
Rex did the same and got out his flashlight.
“Do you see what I see?”
“A syringe,” he said evenly.
“Yes,” I said. “An easy way to place a drug into a bottle of alcohol.”
“I’ll bag it, but there’s no guarantee it has anything to do with Carin’s murder.”
“I know,” I said with a nod. “But it might.”
Chapter 26
I spent the rest of the morning making fudge and trying not to think about the evidence I found and whether Rex had sent it to Shane yet. Even if there was proof that Harold drugged people at the party so that Paige didn’t have an alibi, it still didn’t prove Eleanor killed Carin.
Plus the murder weapon was an issue. How do I put the oar in Eleanor’s hands? How do I put Eleanor at the scene? It was pretty clear to me that Harold lied about who he saw on the pier that night.
* * *
Jenn popped her head into the fudge shop as I was washing the last dishes of the day. “You’re on.”
My assignment was to keep Frances occupied for the rest of the afternoon while Jenn put the finishing touches on the rooftop. At five, she was going to go home with Frances and help her pick out an outfit. I was certain that would give away the entire surprise since she’d never helped Frances dress for a date. Jenn disagreed.
I let her win. She could charm the pants off anyone. Even if Frances became suspicious, in the end she would be happy that Jenn dressed her. The whole thing was being videotaped.
I put away the last dish. “Okay, I’m done here.”
“What are you going to do?” Jenn asked.
“I’m taking Frances out for a coffee,” I said. “Megan’s in, right?”