Chocolate Dipped Death

by Sammi Carter

  He laughed softly and dragged a chair close so I could sit. “I doubt things are as bad as all that. “Do the police have any idea who ran that lady down?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Last I heard, they didn’t have any leads.”

  “Well, they’ll find ’em.” Dooley slipped a stack of photographs into a protective sleeve and tucked it under the counter. “That friend of yours seems sharp enough to get the job done.”

  A silly grin tugged at my lips, but I fought it. My friendship with Jawarski was the one thing going right in my life. Getting all syrupy over him wouldn’t help. “He does all right,” I said. “I just hope they hurry and figure out what happened to her. I hate thinking that there’s a murderer on the loose.”

  Dooley glanced at me over the rims of his reading glasses. “Could have been an accident. Woman jogging along in the dark on that road . . . would have been hard to see her.”

  I slipped Max a lemon drop from my pocket, and he settled at my feet to work on it. “That’s true,” I said, “but then why didn’t the driver report it?”

  “Probably doesn’t want to get in trouble.”

  “Yeah, but—” I cut myself off with a shake of my head. “I don’t know, Dooley. Something just feels wrong. I don’t think it was an accident. I think somebody ran her down deliberately.”

  Dooley eyed me cautiously. “You got any reason for thinking that?”

  “Besides the fact that half the people in town hated her? Not really.”

  “You know anybody with a real motive?”

  I started to shake my head, then stopped myself. I didn’t want to admit it, but Karen had a motive—or at least thought she did. And what about Evie? Was winning Divinity’s contest enough to drive her to murder? Or what about Delta?

  “It’s not my problem,” I said firmly. “The police will figure it out.”

  “Sure they will.” Dooley glanced out the window toward Divinity. From this vantage point, he could see the kitchen window, the back door, and the park bench where Aunt Grace used to sit to work through her problems. “I don’t suppose you know why they’re so interested in Karen?”

  A hollow pit opened in my stomach. “Who’s interested in Karen?”

  “The police.”

  “The police have been asking about Karen? When?”

  “Couple of officers stopped by yesterday. Started off asking if I’d seen or heard anything the night of the contest, but they got around to asking about Karen pretty quickly. Seems she made quite a fuss down at O’Schuck’s that night.”

  The hole in my abdomen widened. “What else did they want to know?”

  “They asked about Karen’s relationship with Sergio. Did they get along? Have I ever heard them argue? That kind of thing.”

  I couldn’t sit still any longer, so I started to pace. “Well, of course they argue. Every couple argues.”

  “That’s just what I told ’em.”

  “And?”

  “They wanted to know if I’d ever seen Karen arguing with the dead woman.”

  “You said no.” It wasn’t a question.

  I guess it should have been. Dooley’s eyes filled with misery, and he had trouble meeting my gaze. “I couldn’t do that, pumpkin. I wanted to, believe me. I just couldn’t.”

  “Does that mean you did hear an argument between them?”

  “Didn’t hear it so much as saw it,” Dooley said, frowning. “I was working right here. Looked up and saw that lady—the one who died—standing outside your back door.”

  “What time was this?”

  “I didn’t notice, but it wasn’t very late. Seven thirty, maybe eight.”

  “Was she alone?”

  “At first—at least until some guy showed up.”

  “Do you know who it was?”

  Dooley shook his head. “It was too dark, and they moved off into the shadows.”

  “Was he tall? Short? Fat or thin?”

  “I didn’t pay much attention,” Dooley admitted. “The only thing I can tell you is that they had an argument of some kind.”

  “You didn’t hear it?”

  Dooley gave his head another shake. “I was working. I didn’t think that much about it until Karen showed up. Even from here I could tell that she was upset, and by that time I was gettin’ a little curious, so I decided to get a little fresh air.”

  The hole in my stomach turned into a yawning chasm. “What did you hear, Dooley?”

  His gaze flickered away, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me when he answered. “Well, now, I only heard a word or two. Keep that in mind.”

  I stared him right in the eye. “What words?”

  “And I don’t think you can put much stock in ’em, considering that I heard it all out of context.”

  “What did you hear, Dooley?”

  He sighed and tugged the reading glasses from his face. Regret filled his eyes, and I think I knew what he was going to say almost before he said it. “I hate to tell you this, sweet pea, but I heard Karen threaten to kill her.”

  My fingers grew cold, and my arms felt numb. That ever-present knot in my stomach grew cold and hard. “Are you sure that’s what she said?”

  “I’m sure. You don’t know how bad I wish I wasn’t.”

  That made two of us. “What happened then?”

  “The lady laughed. Guess she thought it was joke.”

  “Maybe it was.” I knew better, but we were talking about my cousin—a girl I’d grown up with, gone to the swimming hole with, partnered with in countless of Aunt Grace’s taffy pulls, and taught to roller-skate.

  “Yeah,” Dooley agreed halfheartedly. “Maybe.”

  It looked bad. Even I had to admit that. But for the past year, I’d worked side by side with Karen at Divinity almost every day. She wasn’t a killer—no matter what she said.

  Chapter 12

  “Where is it?” Evie Rice demanded a couple of hours later. She reached the bottom step, tossed her purse onto one of the wrought-iron tables, and came close to the glass display case separating us. “What have you done with it?”

  I pulled a basket from the supply cupboard, lined it with metallic shred, and began filling it with a dozen varieties of licorice. Thanks to ski season, we had a healthy walk-in business, and more than a dozen customers were milling around among the various displays.

  “Done with what?”

  “My prize. The box of chocolates. It’s crap, but I figured I might as well come and get it. Megan might want it.”

  I ignored the insult since she wasn’t thinking clearly. “It’s upstairs right where you left it.”

  Evie pulled her red ribbon from a pocket and waved it in front of me. “No it’s not. This was all there was.”

  “But that’s impossible. It was there Friday night when I came downstairs, and I was the last person here. Nobody’s been up there since.”

  “Well somebody must have been, because the candy’s gone.” Evie perched on the edge of a chair and crossed her legs. “I’ll bet it was Savannah.”

  “I don’t think that’s likely.”

  “No, really. I’ll bet she snuck up there and took it, and I’ll bet she planned to bring at least some of it back as her entry the second night of the contest.”

  I might have laughed if Evie hadn’t looked so serious. “Even Savannah wouldn’t have dared to try that,” I said. “She’d have been crazy to try.”

  Evie arched an eyebrow as if I’d just made her point for her.

  I slid a package of licorice ropes into the basket, jammed my finger on a piece of wire, and swore softly. Turning away in exasperation, I ran cold water over my hand to wash away the blood. “First you were convinced that Savannah had downloaded her recipe from a website. Then you’re convinced she was passing off candy made by someone else as her own. Why would she have done that?”

  Evie rolled her eyes as if she was the one who should be exasperated. “I don’t have all the answers, but I’m convinced that she was doing something w
rong. It’s a good thing she’s not here anymore. The contest could have lost all credibility.”

  Yeah, but I happened to think a human life was worth slightly more than the reputation of a contest—even this one. “You don’t have any proof,” I told her, and added what I seemed to be saying to everyone these days. “You can’t accuse her of doing something wrong just because you didn’t like her.”

  Evie’s gaze grew hard as peanut brittle. “No, I didn’t have proof, but it probably wouldn’t have been hard to get. That’s why I wanted you to find out what kitchen she was using. She wouldn’t have been able to tell you, you know. And that would have been your proof, right there.”

  I turned off the water and toweled my hand dry. “That wouldn’t have proved anything. None of the contestants have ever had to reveal the location of their kitchen. I couldn’t have singled Savannah out without a very good reason.”

  “You had a good reason,” Evie insisted stubbornly. “She was accused of cheating—”

  “By someone who has hated her for years. And this is a moot point anyway. She’s dead. It’s not an issue.”

  “She should never have been given first place that first night.”

  “And you want me to strip the blue ribbon from her posthumously?” Was she insane? Luckily, a couple of women in ski gear came toward the counter, and I had to pause to ring up their sales. “Look, Evie,” I said when the door shut behind them, “I’m sorry, but the truth is that when it comes to Savannah, you’re not the most reliable source of information, and I have no intention of taking away her blue ribbon.”

  Her eyes turned almost the same purple as a grape Fun Dip wrapper. “So you’re not even going to listen to me?”

  “Not if you want me to take a silly first place ribbon away from a dead woman.”

  “Well, you have to do something,” Evie insisted. “She practically ruined the contest, and now, with that blue ribbon tied up this way, the rest of the contest can’t possibly be decided correctly.”

  For the past two days I’d been struggling to hang on to my patience. For the past nine months, I’d been trying to keep a smile on my face and show everyone that I was as pleasant as Aunt Grace had ever been. But at that moment I didn’t feel pleasant. In fact, my frustration level was off the charts.

  “If the contest is ruined,” I snapped, “Savannah won’t be the only one to blame.”

  Evie pulled back sharply, and her cool violet eyes narrowed into angry slits. “Excuse me?”

  A little voice in the back of my head told me to be careful, but I was too angry to care. “I know you’re used to winning this contest, Evie. I know you expect to win again this year. But the fact is, you didn’t take first place the first night. Not because Savannah cheated, but because the judges felt her entry was superior to yours. If you want different results when the contest gets under way again, I suggest you stop complaining and spend some time in the kitchen.”

  She drew herself up to her full five four and glared at me. “What did you just say?”

  Again, that voice whispered caution. Again, I ignored it. Evie was one of Divinity’s best customers, and she had a lot of friends. If I made her angry, she could do some serious damage to my business. But I was too angry to act logically. “The judges aren’t going to change their decision,” I snarled. “I’m not going to take Savannah’s blue ribbon away. So get a grip. Move on. Let it go.”

  Evie drew herself up sharply, and for one terrible moment, she looked angry enough to kill somebody. She snatched her purse from the table and strode toward the door. “I can see I’m wasting my breath here. I should have known you wouldn’t take care of this. I can’t rely on anyone, can I?”

  The look on her face made my stomach knot. She slammed out of the shop so hard, she knocked over two pint jars filled with jelly beans. And as I watched the colorful candies spill onto the black-and-white-checked floor, I wondered what it would take to make the world feel normal again.

  The store stayed busy until I flipped off the lights and locked up again. Karen never bothered to put in an appearance, and since the search for Savannah was over, Bea had stayed away, too. That meant I’d had to do everything myself.

  I hadn’t even had time for lunch, so by seven o’clock I was hungry enough to eat my way across three states. Unfortunately, dinner would have to wait. I’d called an ad for a part-time salesclerk in to the Paradise Post earlier that afternoon, so I hoped the staffing crisis at Divinity would be short-lived. But even hiring someone new to help out wouldn’t completely solve the problem. Karen had the past twenty years of Divinity’s history in her head, while mine was blank on the subject. Like it or not, I needed her.

  Carrying a healthy deposit to the bank made me feel marginally better. At least Savannah’s death, the upset over the contest, and turning Divinity into Search Central hadn’t ruined business completely. I’d even managed to pick up a catering job from a woman named Ruth Cohen, the wife of a movie mogul whose original party caterer had backed out on her at the last minute.

  Catering isn’t something we do often at Divinity, and the short time frame involved had almost convinced me to say no. But the generous paycheck Mrs. Cohen offered was hard to resist. When she also mentioned that she was staying at the Summit Lodge, my resistance had disappeared.

  Listen, I know I’m not a private investigator, and solving Savannah’s murder isn’t my responsibility. I understand that completely. But someone out there had hit Savannah and killed her, either by accident or by design. After talking with Dooley, I figured it was only a matter of time until Jawarski got around to naming Karen as a suspect and maybe even arresting her. Having an excuse for spending time around the Summit Lodge staff seemed like a good idea. If Jawarski tried to cart Karen off to jail, maybe I could stop him.

  After I locked the front doors, I brought Max down to my office, brewed a cup of herbal tea, and dug out Aunt Grace’s recipe files so I could start making plans. Mrs. Cohen wanted to meet the next afternoon so she could look at the proposed menu and I could talk with the hotel staff about accommodations. Getting ready for that meeting would keep me busy, but there are worse things than having plenty to do.

  I’d decided to serve pecan cream candy, Lady Slippers (actually butterscotch patties named after Grace’s favorite wildflower), chocolate fondant dipped in white chocolate, toffee-coated popcorn, strawberry bonbons, Rocky Road Drops, and raspberry meringues, when I heard a knock on the kitchen door. I found Jawarski on the other side, but I didn’t know whether I should be happy to see him or worried until I caught a whiff of the spicy scent of his after-shave and the faint mint of toothpaste as he squeezed past me into the kitchen. Both things told me he’d spruced up a little, and that convinced me that this was a social call instead of a professional one.

  “You’re working late,” he said.

  I nodded and led him into the office. “Trying to stay busy so I don’t have to think too much. What’s up?”

  “I was just heading out to dinner. I know it’s presumptuous, but I thought I’d see if you want to grab a bite.”

  I frowned with genuine regret. “I’d love to, but I really need to work. I’ve just signed on for a big job this weekend, and I’ll never make it if I don’t focus now.”

  “What about pizza? I can order in. Just please tell me you have a beer in your refrigerator.”

  I grinned. Couldn’t help it. “I’ll bet I could find a couple if I tried hard enough.” I considered inviting him upstairs but decided against it. What if Karen came back? I wanted a chance to talk with her before Jawarski did.

  We spent a few minutes arguing amicably over pizza toppings, compromised on the Gut Buster special, and made ourselves comfortable on opposite sides of the desk to wait for the Black Jack Pizza guy to arrive. That’s when Jawarski brought up the subject he’d obviously been dying to discuss.

  I’d kicked off my shoes and put my stocking feet up on the desk, and I was just dragging the afghan my mother had crocheted for me
last Christmas around my shoulders when Jawarski said, “We found the car.”

  I froze in place. “The car that hit Savannah?”

  “Yep.”

  Even Mom’s afghan couldn’t keep the chill away. I was almost afraid to ask, “Whose is it?”

  Jawarski shrugged. “It’s a rental. Picked up in Denver. Registered to a couple of musicians staying at Old Miner’s Inn. They reported it stolen.”

  “And you have no reason to believe they’re lying?”

  Jawarski shook his head. “As far as we can tell, they have no connection with Mrs. Horne. We found fingerprints belonging to both of them in the car, but no others. Not surprising. Whoever stole it was smart enough to wear gloves.”

  I offered a halfhearted smile. “Don’t be so sure about how smart that makes our guy. In this weather, even an idiot would wear gloves.”

  Jawarski laughed softly, and something I didn’t want to feel curled through me. “Great. And here I thought I had the suspect list narrowed down just a little. Leave it to you to set me straight.”

  Yeah. Leave it to me. I snuggled a little deeper into the afghan as the seriousness of the conversation wiped the smile from my face. “So I guess that settles it? That’s how she was killed?”

  “I still don’t know,” Jawarski admitted. “It seems obvious that she was struck by the car, but whether or not the collision actually killed her is still up in the air. We won’t know until the coroner tells us, and it could take a few more days to get the lab results back.”

  This was only my second experience with an autopsy, and I wondered if professionals ever got used to what seemed like an interminable delay. “So what happens now? Is Miles going to stay in town until you find out what happened?”

  Jawarski shrugged again. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything about leaving, but I’d be surprised if he doesn’t at least wait for the coroner to release the. . .” He shot a glance at me to gauge my reaction and finished with a quiet, “the body.”