Chocolate Dipped Death

by Sammi Carter

  I was gasping for breath by the time Max and I climbed the two flights of stairs from the street, but I caught my breath when we stepped through the heavy wooden door into the hushed and elegant atmosphere inside. I couldn’t see anyone in the long hallway leading to the kitchen, so I turned toward the lobby. Only the sound of Max’s claws on the polished hardwood floor broke the silence.

  Richie and Dylan were working behind the registration desk. While Richie’s fingers flew across the keyboard of their computer, Dylan was focused on the open drawer of a file cabinet. The polite smiles they turned toward the door when they heard our footsteps turned into smiles of genuine pleasure when they saw Max. Oh yeah . . . and me.

  They’ve been life partners for at least ten years, but you won’t find two more different people if you spend a lifetime looking. Richie, whose naturally dark hair is carefully highlighted and spiked, is flamboyant and filled with enthusiasm for life. In some ways, he’s more feminine than I am, but I try not to let that bother me. He was wearing a pair of tight black leather pants and a silk shirt, half of which was leopard print that faded into a turquoise feather design. A matching turquoise beret tilted just so on the top of his head.

  Dylan is quiet and far more reserved. He keeps his light hair neatly trimmed and his clothing conservative. While he makes no effort to hide his lifestyle, neither does he go out of his way to advertise it. Maybe he figures that Richie advertises enough for both of them.

  With a cry of delight, Richie abandoned the computer and swept out from behind the desk with his arms spread wide. “Max, you handsome thing. I had no idea Abby was going to bring you to see us today.” He wrapped his arms around Max’s neck and kissed the air noisily. Max’s entire back end waggled with excitement, and he managed to land a couple of wet, sloppy dog kisses before Richie could avoid them.

  Richie’s delight made the worry about Savannah seem unreal somehow. I grinned at Dylan and slid the bouquet onto the counter in front of him. “You’re going to lose him to Max one of these days if you’re not careful.”

  Dylan closed the file cabinet and turned a look overflowing with affection on Richie and Max. “Too late. I can’t compete.” He pulled his gaze away and focused on me. “This is a pleasant surprise. Is Karen sick or something?”

  Dylan’s not a gossip, but I didn’t feel comfortable talking about Karen behind her back. I shook my head and slipped a cookie from the silver tray at my elbow. “I needed a break, and this seemed like a good excuse to take one.” Footsteps clattered down the stairs, and a couple of laughing guests spilled outside. I watched their heads disappear as they descended to the street and looked back to find Dylan inspecting the bouquet. “Business must be good,” I observed. “Your parking lot is completely full.”

  “Business is good all over town,” Dylan said. “We’re full all this week, and we have another big group coming in next week. I’m almost afraid to say this aloud, but it looks as if we might actually have a good year.”

  There’s nothing more deadly in a ski town than a drought. Ski runs without a solid snowpack aren’t good for much. Pile up five or six drought years in a row, and you’ll see frightened and frantic faces everywhere you look. The six years the Rockies had just endured had dented a lot of bank accounts and bankrupted others. Everyone was glad to see the snow this winter.

  “Nobody deserves it more than you two,” I told Dylan. “You’ve put in a lot of work on this place.”

  He leaned forward and inhaled the cinnamon scent of the bouquet. “You don’t know the half of it. Now let’s just hope the snow keeps coming.”

  “I’ve got my fingers crossed,” I assured him.

  He moved the bouquet to the center of the L-shaped counter, spent a few seconds adjusting it, then turned back toward me. “I heard you had a little excitement down at Divinity last night.”

  Richie looked up sharply, gave Max a final pat on the head, and stood to rejoin us. “Did Evie Rich really accuse someone of cheating?”

  Max sank onto the hardwood floor and buried his nose in his side, perfectly content not to chew as long as he was with people. “Yes, she really did,” I said. “And now the other contestant is missing.”

  “Missing?” The word erupted from both Richie and Dylan at the same time. Richie leaned on the counter with both elbows and pumped me for more information. “Missing as in . . . missing?”

  “We don’t know yet.” I glanced at my watch and grimaced. “We’re trying to put together a search party, but it will be dark soon, so I’d better get back. We can use all the help we can get. If you can break away, even for a little while, please do.”

  Dylan hitched himself onto a desk behind the counter. “Do you think something’s happened to her?”

  “I don’t know.” Just the thought made my stomach churn. “All I know is that her husband can’t find her,” I said, and filled them in on the details.

  Richie looked shocked. “Do you think she was kidnapped?”

  The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, but now that Richie brought it up, I couldn’t rule it out. “She and her husband have money,” I said, “so I guess it’s possible. I don’t think anyone’s made an attempt to collect ransom, though. It’s more likely she got hurt while she was out jogging.”

  “And nobody has noticed her in what? Eight hours?”

  Nine, but who’s counting?

  Dylan jumped from the desk and pulled his coat from a hook in the corner. “Can you handle business here while I help look for her, Richie?”

  “Go. One of us should help, and you’ll be better out there in the woods than I would. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

  “Make phone calls,” I told him, almost weak with gratitude. This kind of bonding together is the best part of living in a small town. During my years away, I’d almost forgotten how great it is to actually know your neighbors. “Send anyone you can round up down to Divinity. We’re organizing the search from there.”

  Richie nodded and reached for the phone. “What about the contest?”

  “Postponed until we find Savannah and make sure she’s okay.”

  He pressed the receiver against his chest. “What if she isn’t okay?”

  That wasn’t a possibility I wanted to consider. “She’ll be okay,” I insisted, “and the contest will be under way again by tomorrow.”

  Dylan dug gloves from his pockets and worked his hands into them. “I’ll bet Evie is royally pissed, huh?”

  Again, I decided to be discreet. “She’d rather go ahead tonight, but she understands why we can’t.”

  “But she’s not going to help look for the missing lady, though, is she?” Richie asked.

  “Well I—I don’t know.” It’s not that I don’t trust Richie and Dylan, it’s just that I’m still not sure where I fit in Paradise, and talking about my customers to their friends and neighbors doesn’t seem like a good idea.

  “She won’t help,” Richie said, bobbing his head in agreement with himself. “She’s way too competitive for that. She’s one of the most competitive people I know.”

  I thought about her wall of fame and knew he was right. But that left an uncomfortable sensation rolling around inside me.

  Dylan pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the trash. “How can you say that? You don’t even know her that well.”

  “She’s in my yoga class,” Richie said firmly. “I spend an hour with that woman twice a week, and I’ve seen her practically break her neck trying to be number one. I sure wouldn’t want to be up against her in a contest.”

  The uneasy feeling grew stronger. “Why not?”

  “Because.” Richie said, meeting my gaze steadily. “Evie Rice is the kind of person who would stop at nothing if it meant the difference between winning and losing.”

  And that, I realized with a sinking heart, was exactly what I was afraid of.

  Chapter 7

  My conversation with Dylan and Richie made me more determined than ever to find Savannah
and get her back home safely. I didn’t like wondering if she was alive or not, and I really didn’t like suspecting Evie of something she may or may not have done. It’s hard to look someone in the eye under those circumstances. I needed to find Savannah, if only to get my imagination under control.

  Miles had told me that he’d already talked to Delta, and maybe there was nothing she could tell me that she hadn’t told him, but she was Savannah’s sister. She’d be the most likely person to know where Savannah might be.

  Last I heard, Delta was working as a manicurist at the Curl Up and Dye, an establishment I tend to avoid, mostly because Paisley Pringle, the parlor’s owner, is determined to “fix” my hair. If I have to “fix” my hair at any point in the future, Paisley is the last person on earth I want to be behind the scissors. Her mother comes in a close second.

  Not that my hair couldn’t benefit from some attention. It’s cocoa brown, short, and coarse. Most of the time, it looks like someone hacked at it with a dull knife, but I’m not a fan of Paisley’s work. I’m just not eager to see how much worse I can look.

  Under the circumstances, however, maybe I could survive long enough to see what Delta could tell me. I drove back into the center of town and parked in the lot next to the salon. I didn’t see Paisley’s yellow VW bug anywhere, but her mother’s teal Cherokee was parked by the back door, and my heart sank. The nut hadn’t dropped far from the tree, if you know what I mean.

  Reminding myself that the search for Savannah was more important than staying in my comfort zone, I led Max up the sidewalk. Not needing a haircut was just the top item on my list. I also didn’t need waxing, buffeting, or polishing, nor did I need any part of my anatomy covered with acrylic. I just wanted to find out if Delta knew where to find Savannah.

  Inside, the Curl looks like a throwback to some earlier era. I just have never been able to figure out which one. A small waiting area holds several molded plastic chairs, two coffee tables, countless yellowing issues of hair magazines, and one oversized rock masquerading as a couch.

  The walls are a pale, buttery yellow, the hair dryers a ghastly shade of pink, and white eyelet curtains filter the sunlight at the windows. When you’re inside the Curl it’s easy to forget that Paradise is becoming more of a resort town every year. This is where longtime locals come when they want their hair cut the same way every time and a stylist who knows the exact shade of hair color to mix without having to ask.

  Conversation droned between stylists and clients, and one lone customer—a mousy woman with mousy hair—sat in the waiting area flipping idly through a magazine. The odors of hair product, chemical processors, and nail polish made my nose burn and big band swing played softly on the public address system.

  I renewed my vow to be in and out in three minutes flat.

  At one minute and fifteen seconds, Paisley’s mother, Annalisa Kelso, bounced out of the back room wearing a warm, welcoming smile. She’s a short, sturdy woman with sturdy brown hair that never changes—a walking advertisement for Paisley’s dubious skills. She swept a glance over me, then settled on the woman sitting patiently behind me. “I’m sorry Faith. I didn’t hear you come in. Have I kept you waiting long?”

  The woman glanced up, and I felt a jolt of recognition. I’d gone to high school with her, but I would never have recognized her if I’d passed her on the street. In high school, Faith had been bright and bubbly—everyone’s friend. Within a year of graduation she’d married her high school sweetheart, Noah Bond, who was now a deacon at the Shepherd of the Hills Church. I’m not sure if marrying Noah sapped the life out of her, or if something else was responsible, but all that brightness had definitely evaporated. Even her hair, once the rich color of Bit-O-Honey had become a nondescript dishwater blonde.

  Faith closed the magazine and stood, but I don’t think she actually made eye contact. “It’s fine. I know you’re busy.”

  “I have you down for your usual cut. Did you talk Noah into springing for those highlights this time?”

  A weak smile curved Faith’s dainty mouth. “Oh heavens no. He likes my hair just the way it is. A cut will be fine.”

  It was hard to reconcile this quiet woman with the Faith I used to know, and the changes in her made my heart drop. Annalisa must have felt the same way, because she shared a look with me before saying, “I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment for you, Abby. Did you call in?”

  “No. I don’t actually need anything done. I’d like to talk to Delta for a few minutes if she’s working today.”

  Annalisa’s lips pursed, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the pedicure station. “Delta’s here, but she’s running behind. I’d rather you didn’t interrupt her.”

  “It’s important,” I said. “I promise I won’t take long.”

  As if on cue, Delta emerged from the back room carrying a load of folded towels, and Annalisa’s shoulders rose and fell with a put-upon sigh. “Delta, could you come up here for a minute? Abby needs to ask you something.”

  There is a family resemblance between Savannah and her older sister, but you have to look hard to find it. Delta’s short hair is an unremarkable light brown, and the curves that make Savannah seem lush and ripe have turned to fat on Delta. She was wearing a pair of gold-framed glasses low on her nose, and she stared at me over their rims. “Abby? This is a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if you don’t mind. About Savannah.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded once and came around the counter toward me. “What’s she done now?”

  Maybe I don’t like Savannah much, but Delta’s reaction still made me sad. “I don’t know that she’s done anything. Miles hasn’t seen or heard from her since she left to go jogging early this morning, and he’s getting worried.”

  Faith’s eyes grew round. “She’s missing?”

  “I’m afraid so. Have any of you seen her or talked with her today?”

  Faith whispered something that sounded like a prayer.

  Delta frowned slightly, exactly as she might have if I’d asked about a stranger. “Today? No. She hasn’t been around here.”

  “I didn’t think she’s ever been in here, has she?” Annalisa asked.

  Delta shook her head. “Not as a customer, anyway. This place isn’t exactly her style.”

  Yeah, well that didn’t make her a bad person. “When did you talk to her last?”

  Delta tilted her head and gave that some thought. Her chins quivered and folded over each other. “Monday, I think.”

  “Did she say anything about leaving, or mention somewhere she might go?”

  “Not to me, but then, we didn’t really talk about things like that. Savannah and I aren’t what you might call close.”

  “So you don’t have any idea where she might be?”

  Delta shook her head again. “No, but I wouldn’t worry. Savannah knows how to take care of herself. She’ll turn up. She always does. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m running behind.”

  I trailed after her with Max in tow. Annalisa might ask me to leave, but she won’t mess with Max. “She came to Paradise to take care of your mother’s estate, didn’t she? Is there anything else she wanted to do while she’s here?”

  What little friendliness there’d been in Delta’s eyes vanished. She stuffed towels into a cupboard and turned back to face me with barely concealed impatience. “Why are you suddenly so concerned about my sister?”

  “We can’t find her,” I said again. “Her husband is worried. A group of us are trying to help him locate her.”

  “What does that mean? You’ve got a search party or something?” She made it sound childish, and when I nodded, she laughed and pulled several bottles and a large purple brush from a nearby closet. “Don’t worry about Savannah. She’s just off indulging herself, I’m sure.”

  “Any idea where?”

  “No, but I know Savannah. She’s always been selfish, and from what I can tell, that husband of he
rs is about the same. The two of them probably had a fight, and now he’s got you jumping through hoops for him. They’re both horribly melodramatic, Abby. Don’t let yourself get sucked in.”

  I’d forgotten about the snatch of conversation I’d overheard the night before, and Delta’s warning struck a nerve. If she was right, Miles had a lot of explaining to do. “When do you plan to see her next?”

  Delta shrugged and started away again. “I don’t. She was supposed to stop by yesterday to talk, but she never showed up. Ask me if I was surprised.”

  I refrained. Delta’s matter-of-fact attitude disturbed me. Good or bad, Savannah was her sister. “What did you do when she didn’t show up?”

  “Do?” Delta put down the things she carried and smirked. “Why would I do anything?”

  “If she promised to stop by and then didn’t . . .”

  “You’re missing my point, Abby. The point is that Savannah not being where she’s supposed to be isn’t unusual. My sister has never been the most reliable person in the world.”

  “You didn’t try to call her?”

  “I saw no reason to. Take my advice. Go back to your store and forget all about this. Savannah’s just fine. You’ll see. Once she has enough attention she’ll reappear like magic.”

  She might be right, but I had one more question to ask. “Did you know that Savannah’s competing in the candy-making competition at Divinity?”

  Delta’s gaze lifted briefly. “I did hear that. I also heard that she was accused of cheating.”

  Bad news certainly travels fast. “I’m curious. Do you know where she’s making her candy?”

  Delta straightened the cord of her electric file and swept two one-dollar bills into her kneehole drawer. “Why would I know?”

  “I thought maybe—well, I thought maybe she was using your kitchen.”

  “Mine?” She laughed and shook her head. “Not likely. Savannah hasn’t set foot in that house in twenty years. She’s very good at avoiding anything she considers unpleasant, you know. It’s her greatest talent. Now I really have to ask you to leave. My two thirty appointment just pulled in.”