Asking for Truffle: A Southern Chocolate Shop Mystery

by Dorothy St. James

  “Stop kicking around. It’ll be over in another moment. Just another moment and it’ll be all over. And then I’m going to stuff Mabel’s chocolate down your skinny throat. You should like that.” He sounded so calm about my death, like it was something he orchestrated every day.

  I wanted to scream at him. But I couldn’t because I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was flail my arms and kick my legs. And they were starting to feel heavier and heavier. My movements had begun to get slower and slower.

  One of my wild kicks landed hard on his leg. He stumbled, pulling me along with him. His hold on my neck loosened just a bit. For one glorious moment, I could suck air into my starving lungs.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the ornately carved cask of chocolate sitting on the counter where he’d left it. If I stretched, the tips of my fingers could just touch it.

  Thankfully Cal seemed too focused on strangling the life out of me to care what my arms were doing. I stretched a little more and managed to move the cask forward on the counter. I moved it just enough that my hand could close over the end of the cask.

  I then used every ounce of strength I had left and swung Mabel’s heavy wooden chocolate box. Although my aim wobbled, I managed to slam it into the side of Cal’s head.

  His eyes widened in surprise.

  His hands slid off my neck.

  He landed on the floor with a thud just as a loud crash sounded behind me.

  I whirled around and smacked the cask into Harley’s face.

  His eyes were wide and wild, his knuckles bloodied. He stumbled as he cried out in pain. His arms went around me. He held onto me so tightly, I feared he might crush my ribs as we both tumbled to the ground.

  “You’re here?” I rasped.

  “You broke my nose!” he cried.

  “You’re here?” My voice sounded like my throat had been scraped with sandpaper.

  “I would have gotten to you sooner, but I had to break down the damned door to get out of the closet. It wouldn’t open.”

  “Th-the lock is broken.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” He nodded toward the closet. Its door lay cracked in several places a few feet from the closet’s gaping opening.

  “Stay where you are,” Detective Gibbons said as he jogged past the two of us. “I’ve got this.”

  The detective pressed his knee into the center of Cal’s back, halting his attempts to get up off the floor. He then slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

  Harley moaned. I don’t know if it was distress at seeing his only brother being arrested for murder or because of his broken and bleeding nose.

  “Why-why did you leave me?” I asked. The words sounded like a series of gasps, since I was still unable to pull enough air into my aching lungs. “You-you’d said you’d watch my back, but then you’d disappeared.”

  “He came and got me,” Detective Gibbons explained as he pulled Cal up from the floor. “Good thing too. You shouldn’t have attempted to confront a killer on your own.”

  By this time, even more backup had arrived. Two uniformed officers from the county ran into the apartment. “Sorry we’re late, sir. There was an accident that closed the bridge.”

  Harley, his nose dripping blood, struggled to his feet. He then reached down and pulled me off the floor. Once he was sure I wasn’t going to fall over, he marched over to his brother, who was bleeding from where I’d hit him in the head with the wooden cask.

  “Are you okay?” Harley asked Cal.

  “Do I look okay?”

  “No,” Harley said and then slugged his brother.

  Detective Gibbons shouted a protest and grabbed Harley by the shoulders while his officers grabbed onto Cal, who looked dazed and glassy-eyed. His head dropped to his chest.

  “How could you do something like this?” Harley hissed. “Our parents taught us better.”

  Cal lifted his head just enough to whisper, “They taught us to be poor.”

  “Poor? What are you talking about? We had—”

  “Nothing. We had nothing.” Anger flashed in his eyes. “We had hand-me-down bikes and clothes. Even our books came from the used bookstore. While the Maybanks had everything because of that chocolate.”

  “What are you talking about?” Harley demanded. “Mabel’s shop barely ever made a profit.”

  “Didn’t you know? Mabel’s grandfather invested the profits from selling the Amar chocolate beans. That’s how the family built their fortune. They used those damn beans to get rich. And then Mabel took over the chocolate shop, and she wasted what could have made them ever richer because she was worried about taking care of those uneducated villagers.” He spat the last of those words.

  “Mabel had principles. I thought you did too. Dad taught us—”

  “Dad taught us to be poor,” Cal mocked. “Look at you, working in his go-nowhere office. You’re pathetic.”

  “No, you’re the pathetic one,” Harley said and turned away, unable to watch as the officers led his brother out the door.

  “Are you okay?” Detective Gibbons asked as Harley dropped to the sofa and buried his face in his hands. “Do I need to call EMS?”

  “I’m okay,” Harley answered after a long silence.

  “And you?” Gibbons asked me.

  I felt my throat. It was sore to the touch. It would be covered in all manner of colorful bruises by morning, and my foot hurt like the devil. But I was alive. And I’d helped catch Skinny’s killer.

  “Did . . . did you get enough information?” I croaked.

  Gibbons nodded. “Enough to press charges? Yes. He tried to kill you. I’m sure once we start digging a little deeper into his past activities, we’ll find even more damaging evidence and will be able to charge him for the other murders. The ones who think they can’t get caught tend to make the most mistakes.”

  I nodded and then collapsed onto the sofa next to Harley. His fingers intertwined with mine. As we sat there while the police did their business, he kept a tight grip on my hand.

  I didn’t mind.

  Chapter 32

  The next morning, Althea loaned me a pretty pink silk scarf to wrap around my neck to hide the rainbow of bruises that had formed overnight. Both she and Bertie took turns hugging me as we stuffed ourselves with French toast drizzled with chocolate sauce. Because I understood why they felt the need to squeeze me periodically, I tolerated their fussing.

  Harley had spent the night on the sofa and looked about as stiff and tired as I felt. I tried to talk with him over breakfast about what had happened. I tried to offer him some measure of comfort. It had to be killing him to know his younger brother had committed such horrible crimes. How did he manage to hold his emotions in check knowing Cal had killed Mabel, a woman who had been an important fixture in both their lives ever since they were babies?

  Harley stubbornly refused to accept any comfort from me or Althea or even Bertie. He batted away the hugs Althea and Bertie tried to press on him. After downing a cup of black coffee, he stood up. “I have to go find a top-rate criminal lawyer for Cal. Despite what he did, he’s still my baby brother. I have to take care of him,” he explained. His voice sounded raw.

  “Of course you do.” I laid my hand on his arm. He tensed but didn’t pull away. “Did he do anything or say anything that explains why he’d suddenly do something like this?” I asked gently.

  His shoulders slumped as if the troubles weighing on them were too much to bear. “I suppose I should have seen some sign that there was something wrong with his thinking lately, but for whatever reason, I—”

  He turned away from us. “I need to go,” he whispered as he made his way toward the door. “With our parents gone, I’m all the family Cal has.”

  “Child, before you run off into the city,” Bertie called out to him just as he started to step outside, “make sure your boy hears about Cal’s arrest from your lips.”

  Harley stopped. “Oh, God, Gavin.” His shoulders shudd
ered. “I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. He’s suffered too much upheaval already. He doesn’t deserve this.”

  “You don’t either,” Bertie said as we watched him leave the apartment.

  Because this was the first day of the Sweets on the Beach festival, I swallowed several powerful pain pills to keep my swollen foot from bothering me too much. Althea and I then headed down toward the ocean to set up our booth. Bertie stayed to work at the shop.

  The sea air felt crisp and clean. The sky glowed a brilliant blue. The ocean sparkled as if diamonds danced just under its surface. While Stella chased sea gulls, the two of us got to work on our beachside booth. A three-sided pop-up gazebo provided protection from the ocean breeze. Two long tables gave us ample space to set up the chocolate display. Oversized photos of the villagers harvesting the Amar beans were set up on easels along with a map showing exactly where the chocolate came from. Brochures detailing the chocolate trade and the importance of buying from reputable fair trade sources were fanned out on either end of the tables.

  It wasn’t perfect. Many of the chocolates we offered for sale didn’t taste nearly as amazing as the Amar trail mix, which sold out almost immediately.

  However, everyone from the town who came by, including all the men and women from the Pink Pelican Inn, agreed that the festival and our part in it was a raving success.

  Detective Gibbons stepped into the booth toward the end of the day and purchased several truffles. He smiled as he savored one of Bertie’s sea salt chocolate caramels.

  “Has Cal talked at all?” Althea asked. “Did he explain why he’d kill a man in a vat of chocolate?”

  The detective shook his head as he chewed. “Thanks to that brother of his, Cal lawyered up first thing this morning and isn’t saying boo to us. But I can tell you this much: by putting Skinny in the melted chocolate, he destroyed any physical evidence that would have helped us identify Cal as the killer.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the only reason he did it. After hearing what he said last night about resenting the Maybanks and their money, I think he wanted to use the chocolate beans against them,” I said.

  “Or he could have used Mabel’s vat of chocolate in an effort to implicate someone else, like my mom, as the killer,” Althea pointed out.

  “We may never know what he was thinking,” Detective Gibbons said as he reached into his bag for another caramel. “All we know for sure is that Cal’s obsession with Mabel’s Amar chocolate and the fortune he thought he deserved caused him to make some awful decisions.”

  Several tourists suddenly crowded into our booth and started to ask about the chocolates we had for sale, which put an end to our speculations about what had been going on in Cal’s troubled mind.

  The detective picked up the bag of chocolates he’d purchased and gave me a hard look. “What you did last night was dangerous and stupid. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Come talk to me instead, okay?”

  After he left, I had very little time to reflect on what had happened or on anything else. The booth remained busy until the very end of the day.

  “So what do you think? Are you going to keep the shop?” Althea asked as she started to pack up the truffles.

  “You mean forever?” I asked as I stuffed a handful of brochures back into a box.

  “Mama and I know you only told us you were keeping the shop to force Cal to show his hand,” Althea said as she folded up the easels. “But we’d really like you to stay.”

  I was tempted to say yes. Yes, I’d put down roots here in this quirky backward coastal town. Oh, yes, I was tempted.

  But I shook my head. “I have a disaster unfolding in Madison that requires my attention. My ex is destroying my reputation. And my family is livid that I haven’t stopped him from raking the Penn name through the mud.”

  “But then you’ll come back?” she asked. Her dark eyes sparkled. “We need you here. Look what you’ve done.” She indicated the crowd that wandered up and down the beach.

  I shook my head. “This was Mabel’s doing, not mine.”

  “Your last-minute advertising and press releases certainly drummed up interest. I haven’t seen it this crowded in the winter . . . ever. Didn’t you see the front page this morning? ‘Chocolate Shop Murders Solved.’ And the reporter included all the details you’d provided about the festival. That was your doing.”

  Her enthusiasm was certainly infectious. I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll miss you, Althea,” I said.

  “You don’t have to. Go get things settled in Madison, but come back. Live above the shop.”

  Gracious, I was tempted. But I ended up shaking my head. Although I had a mess of a life to put back together in Madison, what I was returning to was my life. It was the life I’d built for myself, not some vision that a misguided—but talented—old lady had foisted on me.

  “I’m honored that Mabel picked me as heir to her chocolate shop. And I do plan to protect the village of Cabruca and their amazing chocolates,” I quickly added. “The Penn Foundation has some wonderful resources. I hope to convince my father to offer them to the villagers. If I can’t do that, I believe I can pull together enough money to create a trust fund. But Mabel’s family should have the shop and the land. It’s their legacy, not mine.”

  That last bit physically hurt to admit. It surprised me how much I’d hoped Skinny had discovered a DNA link between Mabel and me. Learning that it hadn’t been the case ached like a burning sore in the center of my chest. I rubbed it.

  “I came here to find Skinny’s killer. Now it’s time for me to leave,” I said, still rubbing that sore spot on my chest.

  “What I don’t understand is why Cal killed Skinny. It wasn’t as if he had any special information that would have convinced you to stay and run the shop, did he?”

  “If he knew something, I suspect that information died with both him and Mabel. Remember Mabel had written me a letter that I was supposed to get at the will reading. And it was stolen.”

  “Do you think Cal has it?”

  I shook my head. “I imagine it’s been destroyed by now. It’d be dangerous for him to keep it.”

  “Well, I wish you’d change your mind. We’re going to miss you. I’m going to miss you.”

  And despite that crusty shell I wore like a shield of armor, I believed her. I truly believed she wanted me to stay in Camellia Beach because she genuinely wanted to be my friend.

  That felt . . . nice.

  “Let’s get this stuff back to the shop,” I said, picking up a box. “I think I should make some more chocolate truffles to restock for tomorrow.”

  She picked up a large box and placed it on the handcart we’d used to ferry supplies down to the beach. I set my box on the handcart and started to pick up another when I heard, “Penn! Penn!”

  I looked up. Harley was jogging toward us. He waved a large envelope in his hand like a flag. “Penn!”

  As soon as he reached us, he thrust the envelope into my hands. I frowned at it while he struggled to catch his breath.

  “Ran all the way from your office?” Althea said. “You’re getting out of shape.”

  “I . . . ran . . . from . . . my . . . office . . . via . . . the . . . chocolate . . . shop,” he said.

  “What’s this about?”

  I handed him a bottled water, which he gulped down. The envelope he’d given me was the same one Detective Gibbons had brought over. It was a copy of Gavin’s DNA report. I really didn’t want or need the responsibility of keeping it. Did he want me to give the report to Skinny’s family? What kind of trouble would that cause for Gavin?

  Yes, Gavin deserved to know the truth. But I agreed with Harley. His son needed to be told when he was ready. Not a moment sooner.

  “I was about to stuff this into the back of my safe, but something told me to open it first,” he said.

  “So?”

  He smiled at me. “Open it.”

  I tried to hand the envelope back to him, but
his smile only grew wider. “No, seriously. You need to open it.”

  I did. Inside, I found a single piece of paper.

  My name was on the top right corner.

  Thankfully, I hadn’t yet folded up the chair. Or else I would have ended up sitting in the sand.

  I landed in the lawn chair with a thump as my eyes absorbed the words as if they were foreign and unintelligible.

  “What does it say?” Althea demanded.

  I read the words through again. “I—I—”

  “Harley? I swear, you tell me right now what it says,” Althea demanded, stomping her tiny foot.

  I looked up from the paper and my gaze met Harley’s, and he nodded at me. And then I looked over at Althea, who looked as if she was about to strangle Harley.

  That ache in my chest suddenly vanished. Something warm and surprisingly happy started to spread throughout my entire body.

  I smiled. “It looks as if I’m about to have a change of heart.” Tears sprang to my eyes. “I’m keeping the shop. For real this time.”

  “You are?” Althea shouted. “You are!”

  Skinny, my sneaky friend. I don’t know how he’d managed to get samples of my DNA or Mabel’s, but he had. The DNA report stated the results were conclusive.

  “Mabel was my maternal grandmother.”

  “She was?” Althea squealed. She then pulled me from the chair and hugged me so tightly, I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to breathe normally again. “She was!”

  By the time she let go, we all had tears staining our eyes.

  “I suspect that’s why my brother went after Skinny,” Harley said, his voice husky with emotion. “He couldn’t let anyone find out. I have a feeling Mabel suspected you were her granddaughter, but I don’t think she knew for certain. This piece of paper proves it. It proves you are a legal heir. If Cal had succeeded and you had died yesterday, this piece of paper would have given your heirs, and not Mabel’s family, control of the shop and the chocolates.”

  “But who is my mother?” I asked.

  “You don’t know?” Harley sounded surprised.

  “No. I’ve never known.”