All I Want For Christmas is Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes Book 4)

by Nancy CoCo

  “I hope you don’t mind,” one said, and smiled, flashing her dimples. She wore a red-and-white Santa hat and a sexy Mrs. Claus dress.

  “Not at all,” Trent said. Trent Jessop was a solid man, drop-dead gorgeous with a chiseled jaw and a moneyed look that made women’s heads turn. It was no wonder that cute pub-crawling girl flashed him her dimpled smile. We heard a sudden commotion from over where Eliza sat.

  We all turned to see a heavyset man in his forties trying to talk to Eliza. Bill stood between them and had his hand on the man’s chest as if to ward him off. Trent headed toward them. Allie and I followed. The guy wore jeans, boots, a plaid shirt, and a puffy vest. His round head was bald, and he had a Santa hat in his hand.

  “I just want to give my condolences,” the new guy said.

  “You’ve done enough,” Bill said, and gave the man a small shove. “Leave us alone.”

  “Can I be of service?” Trent asked, his chest spread wide, and he stood on the balls of his feet as if ready to take action. To me it was a clear signal that Trent was ready to step in if needed.

  “No, no, I’m leaving,” the guy said, and he held up his hands in surrender. I noticed that his blue eyes were watery. He looked like he’d been drinking for a while. “I just wanted to give the little lady my condolences. Slater might have been a jerk, and a terrible winemaker, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

  “She doesn’t want your condolences,” Bill said. “As far as I’m concerned, that restraining order you’re under goes for Eliza, too. You need to get out of here and stay at least one hundred feet from her. Do you hear me?”

  “Sure, sure,” the guy, who I assumed was Albert Gray, said, holding up his hands. “I’m going.”

  Trent stepped between them. “I’ll see that he leaves.”

  “What do you care?” Albert asked.

  “I own this property,” Trent said. “I don’t want to see any trouble.”

  “Fine, fine,” Albert said, deflated. We watched as Trent escorted the gentleman out.

  “Is that Albert Gray?” Allie asked. “Tim’s stalker?”

  “Yes,” Bill said. “I know his beef was with Tim, but Tim made sure the restraining order said he has to stay away from Eliza, too.”

  “He has some nerve, coming over to you like that,” I said.

  “Keep an eye out for him, Bill,” Allie said. “Albert’s a person of interest in Tim’s death.” She turned and put her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s follow Trent out. I have a few questions for Mr. Albert Gray.”

  I felt a stab of apprehension. “Don’t killers like to return to the scene of the crime?”

  “Sometimes,” Allie said as we wound our way through the crowd.

  “By the way,” I said into Allie’s ear, “did you know Trent owned this place?”

  “Not exactly,” Allie said, and made a dismissive motion with her hand, “but I’m not surprised. His family owns half the businesses on the island.”

  We stepped out of the bar and into the quiet cold of Main Street. The crowd of Santa pub crawlers spilled out, laughing and joking and stumbling to the next destination. Trent stood next to the door, talking to Albert.

  “You’re under a restraining order?” Trent asked. He stood with his legs apart and his arms crossed over his chest like a bouncer.

  “It’s no big deal,” Albert said, sneering. “Tim Slater sold me some bad wine. I did some complaining on the Internet, and then he slapped me with papers.”

  “It takes a lot more than that to get a court order,” Allie said.

  Albert rolled his eyes. “I didn’t like the guy. He was a wise mouth.”

  “Did you kill him?” Allie asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Trent’s stance.

  “What? No, I didn’t kill him,” Albert said, and his expression showed surprise at the question.

  “Do you have witnesses to prove it?” Allie asked.

  “What are you, the cops?” Albert scowled.

  “Why are you on Mackinac?” Trent asked. “Did you know Tim Slater was here for the run? Did you knowingly violate the restraining order?”

  Albert ran his hand over his bald head. “No, I didn’t. Sheesh. Look, I have a buddy with a cabin on the island. He asked me if I wanted to come up for the holiday and do the pub crawl.” Albert shrugged. “I like beer. I’m up for an adventure, so I said yes.”

  “When did you get here?”

  “I flew in yesterday,” he said. “Like I told the cops, all you have to do is ask that pretty pilot gal. She’ll tell you. I got here after Tim was killed.”

  “So you’re telling us, it’s a coincidence that you showed up and Tim was murdered,” Allie said.

  “Purely coincidental,” Albert said. “I swear. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got tickets for beers at the Boar’s Head.”

  “Stay out of trouble,” Trent warned him. “If I hear you have been causing any further hassles, I’ll see that you’re never allowed on Mackinac Island again.”

  “Yeah, right,” Albert muttered, and turned on his heel. We watched him cross the busy street to the Boar’s Head, which was three doors down from the McMurphy.

  “Come on,” Allie said. “I’ve got sugar cookies and chocolate martini fixings at my place.”

  “It’s certainly less crowded,” I said, noting the growing numbers of people in Santa suits.

  “I’m going to stop at the Boar’s Head and put a bug into the bouncer’s ear,” Trent said. “By the end of the night, Mr. Gray won’t be going anywhere without someone keeping an eye on him.”

  We watched Trent work his way through the crowd. People stepped aside as he went. “Trent really commands the street,” I observed.

  “Yes, he does,” Allie said, showing a sweet smile of pleasure. “Oh, hey, is that Shane?”

  “Where?” I glanced around. Allie looked toward a figure going into the grocery store. “Oh . . . yes, it is,” I said.

  “Are you going to go talk to him?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He acted pretty cold this morning.”

  “Maybe he was all business because of the crime scene.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, and bit my bottom lip.

  “Go on, talk to him,” Allie said, giving me a little push. “I’ll get the cookies and martinis ready. You can ask him to come up and join us.”

  “Okay,” I said, raising my head high. It wasn’t like me to skulk about or ignore someone just because they were standoffish. Besides, part of the reason I returned to Mackinac was to see Shane. It would be silly not to take this opportunity. I straightened my Santa hat and headed into Doud’s Market.

  I found Shane rummaging among the cold drinks. He wore a black winter parka over jeans and hiking boots. His hair was cut short and he had on those black horn-rimmed glasses that magnified his blue eyes and made my knees go weak.

  “Hey, I thought that was you,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. “How are you, Shane?”

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. Then he went back to the drinks and pulled a six-pack of lemon-flavored water out. “Jenn.” That was all he said.

  I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. My puffy vest pooched out. The silence was deafening. So I filled it. “Did you get the crime scene processed?” I asked. “I tried to do a good job of keeping the dog away from the tracks.”

  “It’s fine,” he said, and walked past me to the counter where Mary Emry was working.

  “Oh, good,” I said. I looked away when Mary raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you staying on the island? Allie is offering cookies and chocolate martinis if you want to come up tonight.” Okay, so that was awkward, but, hey, I was trying here.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Shane asked as he gave Mary a ten-dollar bill. She rang him up in silence and gave him change and his receipt.

  “What do you mean? Of course it’s a good idea,” I said. “Food, fun, alcohol, good company—what’s not good about it?”

  Shane
turned on his heel, the waters in his hands. “So you expect we should pick up where we left off . . . as if you never left.” His gorgeous gaze was flat.

  “Sure,” I said, and drew my brows together. “We’ve been in touch. Right? I mean, I haven’t heard from you much lately, but that doesn’t mean anything . . . unless you’re seeing someone.. . .” I tried to keep breathing while I waited for the answer.

  “Have a good night, Jenn,” he said, and walked by me as if I were a mere acquaintance. The worst part was he didn’t answer my question. I watched as he headed down the street in the opposite direction of the McMurphy.

  “Was it something I said?” I asked Mary.

  She ignored me and went back to reading the latest tabloid, which sat open on the store counter.

  I blew out a long breath and followed Shane out—only I went in the opposite direction. I had a sudden urge to drown my sorrows in chocolate martinis and sugar cookies.

  The next morning I convinced Allie to go jogging with me. As my best friend, she was game to keeping me company, but as a runner, she needed more conditioning.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Allie stopped at the first-mile marker and breathed heavily, holding her side. “How do you do this?”

  “Practice,” I said. “It’s harder, actually, to run with someone. When you are alone, you can set your own pace. When you jog with someone else, you spend a lot of your time trying to match the other person’s pace. This either pushes you or slows you down, so it’s probably harder because you’re running with me.”

  “I don’t think I’d call this running,” she said as she drew in a ragged breath. “It probably qualifies as walking fast.”

  I did a lap around her. “Well, yes, it could be walking fast, if you were actually moving.” I teased her. “Try breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

  “Ugh, that’s hard,” she said after a couple of tries.

  “I’ll slow it down,” I said. “Really, you should be able to talk while you exercise or you are anaerobic and do more harm than good.”

  “Okay, well, then we need to walk, not jog.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I should probably save my energy for tomorrow’s run, anyway.”

  “Good,” Allie said, and started walking. We were about a half mile farther down the trail when she took a deep breath. “This is so much better.” We both laughed. The air was crystal clear and the sky dark. It was just after six AM. A couple of other Santas jogged past us in the dark with calls of “On your left.”

  “Any more ideas on who killed Tim?” I asked.

  “Albert is still a good suspect,” Allie said. “Frances told me he’s staying at the Heralds’ cabin. There’s only a quarter mile between there and the place Tim was staying.”

  “But he said he didn’t fly in until the morning I found Tim’s body,” I said as we drew closer to the spot where Tim died.

  “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t here the night before,” Allie said. “I texted Sophie last night. She said that Rex had contacted her to confirm Albert’s story. Sophie remembered flying him in that afternoon, but she said that Brad Hutchin, the other charter pilot who works in the winter, mentioned that he remembered flying Albert in and out the day before.”

  “That still doesn’t fit the time frame of Tim’s death,” I said. “Based on when Tim was last seen, Albert couldn’t have done it.”

  “I have a text in to Brad. I wondered if he could remember exactly when he flew Albert in and out. Don’t you think it’s funny that Albert flew in and out one day, and then back in the next afternoon, and failed to mention that to anyone?”

  “It does seem sort of suspicious,” I said. We rounded the corner close to where I had first spotted Tim’s body in the snowbank. “This area is sort of creepy now, isn’t it?” I mentioned as I slowed and looked up at the steeply climbing woods on the right side of the trail. “I mean, it’s dark and the trail is empty. Anyone could come bounding out of the woods and attack you.”

  Allie giggled. “You have a strong imagination.”

  I stopped. “Look around. It’s so dark and quiet. You have to admit it’s kind of scary. Especially if you’re alone.”

  A rustling in the trees startled us, causing us both to gasp and turn toward the sound. Marley came bounding out of the snowy woods, carrying his candy cane rawhide in his mouth. Allie screamed a little and ducked behind me. That made me laugh.

  “Hello there, happy guy,” I said, and rubbed Marley on the head. His full tail wagged fast, sweeping the snow. “You want to play?” I tugged the rawhide out of his mouth and threw it down the trail. Marley took off after the bone, grabbed it, and turned to bring it back. He dropped it at Allie’s feet.

  “He wants you to throw it,” I said.

  Allie picked up the rawhide and paused to look at it. “Wait, this doesn’t look very old, does it? I mean, wouldn’t a dog have chewed it up more if he’d had it awhile?”

  I looked at the bone in the strengthening daylight. “Yes, you’re right,” I said, frowning. “It does look like it’s only a couple of days old.” Allie tossed it. Marley raced after it and brought it back to us. This time he dropped it at my feet. “He’s taking turns,” I said with a smile.

  “Marley had this rawhide when we first found him, didn’t he?” Allie asked.

  I looked at the candy cane shape. “Sure,” I said, and tossed the bone. Marley chased after it. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I saw this bone somewhere else, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Somewhere on the island?”

  “Yes,” Allie said.

  “That means Eliza or Tim bought the bone before Tim was killed.”

  “Or the killer bought the bone,” Allie said as Marley dropped it at her feet. She picked it up. “Yes, now I remember. I saw a bone like this the night Tim was killed.” She looked at me. “I think I know who did it.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Want to clue me in?”

  Allie tossed the bone and let Marley go after it. Then she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Rex Manning. “I need to get concrete proof first,” she said. “Let’s get everyone together. I think I can get a confession.”

  “Awesome,” I said. “Just like on a television show!”

  “I’m becoming a regular detective.” Allie winked. “Rex?” Allie said into her phone. “I think I know who killed Tim Slater. Can you meet us at the Bonds’ cabin, say in half an hour? Can you make sure that Albert Gray and the Golds are there? Thanks!” She hung up. “Come on, let’s get Marley to take us up to his house through the woods.”

  “Oh, do you think Marley is the key to this murder?”

  “I think he can help,” Allie said. She snagged the rawhide and headed off the trail. “Come on, boy, show us how to get to Eliza, okay?”

  Marley barked and dashed up the hill. Allie followed behind. I glanced around to make sure we were alone and safe; then I followed up the hill. I took my cell phone out and kept my thumb close to the 9-1-1 button. Allie had proven this summer that finding a killer could be dangerous. I was going to be prepared.

  Chapter 6

  “This better be good,” Albert Gray said as he came around the side of the cabin. Eliza and Bill and Karla stood outside with Allie and me, while Rex and Officer Brown stood nearby. Marley growled at Albert as he approached. The sound was a little scary. I pegged Marley for the kind of dog who loved everyone. But it was pretty clear he didn’t love Albert. “Keep that dog on a leash,” Albert said. “I don’t want to be bitten.”

  “He doesn’t bite,” Eliza protested.

  Marley growled low and the fur on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “He looks like he wants to go after my throat,” Albert said, and stopped at the corner of the house. Albert’s fat, bald head was sweating in the early-morning cold. His piggy eyes narrowed in terror.

  “Thanks for coming, Mr. Gray,” Allie said. “I needed to see how Marley reacted to you.”


  “Well, you’ve seen it,” he said, and put his hands out. “Keep that mutt under control, okay?”

  Allie motioned to Eliza, who held Marley’s leash. “You can put him in the dog run now.”

  Eliza muscled the usually friendly dog into the dog run, where he bounded over toward the corner closest to Albert Gray and barked.

  “Marley, quiet!” Bill Gold commanded; the dog sat down silently.

  “I don’t know what has gotten into him,” Eliza said. “He’s always so good with people.”

  “I know,” Allie said. She looked at Rex. “Albert Gray didn’t hurt Tim.”

  “How do you know that?” Karla asked. She put her hands on her narrow, jean-covered hips. Her hair was pulled back into a single braid. “It seems to me that Marley just proved that Albert was the one who hurt Tim.”

  “It’s just the opposite,” Allie said. “Marley liked whoever killed Tim.”

  “What do you mean?” Bill asked.

  “Whoever killed Tim had to get close enough to smash his head with a rock and toss him down the hill. To do that, they would have to know that Marley was here and have to distract the dog.” She pulled the candy cane rawhide out of her pocket. “Whoever killed Tim gave this to Marley to keep him away.”

  “No!” Eliza and Karla said at the same time.

  “That was the only way to get close to Tim, wasn’t it, Bill?” Allie asked.

  I turned toward Bill and saw his face darken with shock and then anger.

  “What are you saying?” Bill asked. “You think I hurt Tim? What about Gray here? We all know he was on the island at the time of the murder.”

  “I told you I just got here,” Albert said.

  “But that pilot said you left and came back,” Bill pointed out. “That means you could have killed Tim and then left, returning after to cover your tracks.”

  “Oh for crying out loud. Do you really think I would come back if I’d killed someone?” Albert asked.

  “Why did you leave and come back?” Karla asked.

  “Like I told the cops, when they asked, I had an emergency work meeting,” Albert said and put his hands on his hips. “I’ve got people who will back me on that.”