Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 03 - The Great Chocolate Scam

by Sally Berneathy

  I crossed the living room, leaving the door open for Trent who should be arriving soon with that pizza, and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

  “I just saw the news, sweetheart. Are you all right?”

  My mother. Not Rick, but someone almost as annoying. Verification of Henry’s psychic abilities after all.

  “I’m fine, Mother. How are you?”

  “I am absolutely devastated, and I know you are too.”

  “Really, I’m not.”

  “Your father and I have decided you need to come home for a few days, just until this all gets settled. Phoebe’s cleaning your old room right now, and she’s going to make baked chicken for dinner. I know you don’t eat right, all that Coke and chocolate. You need a good meal right now.”

  “Thank you, Mother, but I’m just fine where I am.”

  “You don’t have to be so brave, Lindsay. I know you and Rick were having your problems, but he was still your husband.”

  Leave it to Mom to bring up something I didn’t want to hear. “Only through a legal technicality. Don’t worry about me, really. I’ve got Paula next door, Fred on the other side, and Trent’s on his way here with a pizza.”

  “Oh. Trent.” I could almost see the icicles forming along the phone line from Mother’s house to mine. “Lindsay, I don’t know what people are going to think, your spending time with another man when your husband just died.”

  “And I’m supposed to care what people think…why?”

  Henry wound himself around my legs, still complaining. I’d made the phone stop ringing, so I suspected it was now food he wanted. Maybe it had been all along. Hunger, psychic abilities…it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes, especially in cats.

  My mother released a long sigh. “Lindsay, I wish you wouldn’t be like that. You know how your father and I worry about you.”

  “Gotta go, Mom. Trent’s here with the pizza.” He wasn’t. Yes, I lied to my mother. It fell under the justifiable umbrella of lying for a good cause, in this case to get my mother off the phone before I lost my sanity or Henry starved.

  “Lindsay, we have to plan the funeral!”

  The funeral? And I’d thought our conversation couldn’t get any worse. “Bye, Mom!” I put the receiver down before she could say anything else, though she’d already said enough to send me running for chocolate. “Come on, Henry,” I said. “Let’s get some stinky food for you and a nice brownie for me.”

  We went into the kitchen where I poured a large quantity of dry nuggets into Henry’s German shepherd sized bowl. He dove in, eating as if he hadn’t already consumed a bowl full of the same food that morning. Henry is a large cat, can’t even get his head in a regular kitty-sized bowl, and he has an appetite proportionate to his size.

  I took a brownie from the freezer and nuked it for twenty seconds then gobbled it as greedily as Henry was scarfing down his food. After waiting in my lawyer’s office for Rick to appear, discovering Rick was dead, being grilled about Rick’s death and then talking to my mother, I desperately needed a chocolate fix.

  The brownie was small, and I was considering some frozen chocolate chip cookie dough when I heard my neighbor, Fred, calling my name from the living room.

  “In here!” I shouted took out the container and turned on the oven. Since I had company, I’d be gracious and bake the dough. Fred loves my chocolate chip cookies. Well, who doesn’t?

  “Anlinny!” A small tornado burst into my kitchen and flung his arms around my legs. I grabbed the edge of the stove to keep from falling. I’ll be glad when Zach’s a little taller so he can hug me at a more stable height.

  He looked up at me, the expression on his angelic face sad, his bright blue eyes intense as only a three-year-old’s eyes can be. “Mama says Uncle Rick’s gone and you’re sad and we have to be nice to you. Can I have cookies?”

  “Zachary!” Paula exclaimed. She and Fred both stood in the doorway. My troops had arrived.

  Paula moved forward and pulled Zach from his determined embrace. “Being nice to Aunt Lindsay doesn’t include knocking her to the floor or asking for cookies!”

  “Sure it does.” I leaned over and kissed the top of his blond head. “I was just getting ready to make some cookies for Zach, and maybe he’ll share with the rest of us.”

  Zach nodded vigorously. “Okay.” He’s a generous boy.

  Paula released her son who plopped down on the floor and began to annoy Henry. Henry ignored him and continued cleaning out his bowl.

  “I’m so sorry,” Paula said, coming over to hug me. She’s a tiny little thing, blond and delicate, and one of the strongest people I know. “I’m here, whatever you need.”

  She stood back and Fred came over to offer his hug. I’m tall but he’s taller, so much so that he had to lean down for the embrace. “I’ve got hot dogs, potato salad, and three different flavors of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream.”

  Fred’s a gourmet cook who often turns up his nose at the stuff I eat, so I was a little surprised that he was offering me hot dogs and potato salad. Then he leaned closer and whispered in my ear, “Independence Day foods. But you really should pretend to be a little upset about Rick’s death.”

  I burst into laughter. I could always count on Fred to put things in their proper perspective.

  The front door slammed. “Lindsay?” Trent had arrived with the pizza. We were going to have plenty of food. There’s nothing like a death to bring out the food from friends and family.

  *~*~*

  Fred brought over his contributions to the meal, and we stuffed ourselves. The thought crossed my mind that I should feel a little guilty, enjoying myself with friends and good food when Rick could no longer delight in either of those pleasures. It crossed my mind then darted into oblivion, and I had another helping of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food Ice Cream.

  By nine o’clock Zach and Henry were lying on the floor together, snoozing.

  Paula bent down and gathered up her sleeping son. He snuggled into her arms, and she moved toward the front door then stopped. “Do you want to close Death by Chocolate tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Close? No. Why would we?” The only time we’d had to close our restaurant was when a crazy woman tried to burn the place down and we had to have repairs made.

  “Death in the family.”

  “Oh, that.” My mother was probably going to be mortified at my breach of the social mores, but I shook my head firmly. “He’s not family. I’ll see you in the morning around four.”

  Only a few months ago a man had been killed outside the restaurant, and I’d created a dessert I called Murdered Man’s Brownies which had been a huge success. Maybe I could come up with something in Rick’s memory…Rick’s Pieces, a chocolate pudding cake with whipped cream containing pieces of chocolate and toffee, or perhaps Rickhead-free Brownies, no gluten, no nuts.

  Nah, that was too tacky even for me.

  Probably.

  We all walked out on my front porch into the late summer night and watched Paula and Zach cross the yard to her house. I was so lucky to have her as a friend.

  When she was safely inside with the door closed behind her, Fred moved off the porch. “Call me if you need me no matter what time it is, but only if you really need me. Otherwise, I won’t answer.”

  I’m never quite sure when he’s joking.

  He strolled toward his house, his lanky frame moving along casually and confidently, his white hair gleaming in the moonlight. I was lucky to have him for a friend too.

  Trent wrapped an arm around my waist. Another person I was lucky to have. Interesting how a death can make us appreciate the ones we have left.

  I turned to Trent, wrapped my arms around him and kissed him, standing on my porch in full view of anybody who happened to be looking. I was no longer legally married. It didn’t matter who saw us together.

  When I finally pulled away, we both looked around apprehensively. I halfway expected Rick to burst from behind the nearest bush, charge onto the p
orch and begin berating me. But that wasn’t going to happen ever again, I reminded myself.

  “Let’s go inside,” I suggested, trying to make my voice seductive. “I think I’m as divorced as I’m ever going to be.”

  He grinned. “Soon,” he promised. “But not tonight. You like to act tough and you want everybody to think Rick’s death doesn’t bother you, but I know it does.” He lifted my fingers and brushed them lightly with his lips. “We’ll have plenty of time when you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now,” I protested.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He kissed me again. Just my opinion, but that was certainly no way to convince me I wasn’t ready for him to spend the night with me. “Good night,” he said and walked toward his car parked in the street in front of my house.

  I waved as he drove away then went back inside. Henry nudged me sleepily as he passed on his way to the stairs that led to our bedroom. I sighed and started to follow him, then paused at the window that looked out onto the street. I couldn’t restrain myself from taking one more peek just to be one hundred percent certain Rick wasn’t out there spying on me, leaning down from a cloud or pushing up from beneath the sod. Crazy, I know. But he’d done it so many times for so long, I would probably be paranoid the rest of my life.

  Of course I saw no sign of him.

  But a car parked a couple of houses away started up and moved slowly down the street with no lights on. I held my breath, half expecting to see Rick’s SUV. Of course not. That lay in pieces in the police lab. This car was a dark sedan. Just somebody who forgot to turn on his lights. Nothing I should be concerned about.

  But the car slowed almost to a stop in front of my house.

  I peered closely but couldn’t see anything through the tinted windows.

  Could the driver see me any more clearly than I could see him?

  Suddenly he sped away, turning on his lights when he reached the end of the block.

  I was being paranoid.

  I checked my door to be sure it was locked and went upstairs to sleep with my cat since my boyfriend had gone home.

  Chapter Four

  It was almost two o’clock and the lunch crowd was winding down when Bryan Kollar walked in the front door.

  Paula was in the back beginning the cleanup, and I was behind the counter at the cash register so I had the experience of his entrance all to myself. The man was even more gorgeous than he looked in the TV ads for his chain of gyms, Body by Bryan. Over six feet tall, black wavy hair, eyes so blue they were almost turquoise, and every muscle in that fabulous body outlined by his tight tee-shirt. The room suddenly got ten degrees hotter.

  It was only a few minutes before closing time and normally I’d have told anybody who came in that we were closed. But Bryan Kollar wasn’t just anybody.

  “Can I help you?” I asked, my mouth stretching into a huge smile. Couldn’t help myself. How can anyone not smile when viewing something that pleasing to the eyes?

  He returned my smile, ramping up the wattage as he approached the counter where I stood. Add another ten degrees to the room temperature.

  “I’m looking for Lindsay Kramer.”

  My smile slipped a little. Only friends of Rick ever called me Lindsay Kramer. I’d kept my birth name of Powell when I married him.

  “I’m Lindsay Powell,” I said. “I was married to Richard Kramer.”

  His expression turned sad. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  I shrugged. “Thanks. What can I do for you?” It suddenly occurred to me that I, as Rick’s only surviving relative, could be liable for his debts. Had Rick borrowed money from this rich, famous man or scammed him out of money? But surely this man who inspired thousands of people to reach their potential and become the best they could be would not be coming to a poor widow, looking for revenge for something her deceased husband did.

  Yeah, okay, five minutes ago I was just someone who used to know Rick, but I wasn’t above playing the poor widow card if it got me out of a mess Rick’s dealings got me into.

  “I’m Bryan Kollar.” He held out a large, muscular hand.

  I accepted his handshake, pleased to see my fingers weren’t shaking, and was surprised he didn’t try to squash my hand. I guess if you’re really strong, you don’t have to prove it.

  “Were you a friend of Rick’s?” I asked. Might as well get the ugly stuff out there on the table.

  “No.”

  “An enemy?”

  His smile widened. Did I mention he was really nice to look at? “No, I’m not a friend or an enemy. We were business associates.”

  Uh oh. Here it comes. What on earth was Rick thinking about, running a scam on a man with wealth and power and the ability to break him in two with one hand?

  “What kind of business?” I asked warily.

  He shrugged, the simple gesture sending those mounds of muscles in his chest and arms rippling. I wondered what I could say to make him shrug again.

  “A real estate deal.”

  Of course it was. Rick was a commercial real estate salesman. He did real estate deals regularly. Some were even legitimate.

  “Your husband purchased some property from my elderly parents,” Bryan continued. “They’re—” He looked very sad. I wanted to comfort him. He sighed. “I’m afraid they’re becoming a little senile. They should never have sold him the property in the first place. It’s worthless, an old flour mill that’s been owned by my family for four generations.”

  Rick didn’t think the property was worthless or he wouldn’t have bought it, but I waited for the rest of the story.

  “My parents are now very upset that they sold it to him. They’re elderly and susceptible, and I think your husband kind of bullied them in a charming sort of way until they finally agreed.”

  “Rick could pour on the charm when he needed to,” I admitted. Just like you’re doing to me right now.

  “Your husband and I were negotiating a deal where I would buy back the property for my parents. We had a verbal agreement that I’d pay him a price that was twice what he paid for the property.” The wide smile returned. Somehow that smile wasn’t as pretty as it had been before.

  I waited a moment for him to continue. He didn’t. “And you’re telling me this, why?”

  “You are his only surviving heir, aren’t you? He told me how he lost his parents in that horrible plane crash.”

  I gave a jerky nod, trying to remember if I’d heard the plane crash story. There were so many versions of his family history. “Yes, as far as I know, I’m his only surviving heir.” I suddenly realized that meant I’d get custody not only of any bits and pieces of his body that the cops found but also of his estate. I did not want that. “I’ll be happy to return your parents’ property to you for whatever price Rick paid for it as soon as I’m legally able to do so.”

  Bryan’s smile went off the charts again. I’d just made the man very happy. I felt certain this deal had very little to do with his parents and a whole lot to do with his bank account, but I didn’t care. I wanted nothing to do with Rick’s deals or his property. I’d be happy to give him back his family’s old flour mill.

  Bryan’s gaze shifted to something behind me.

  I turned and saw that Paula had come in. She was frowning. “Lindsay? What’s going on?”

  “Paula, this is Bryan Kollar, the owner of those Body by Bryan gyms. Mr. Kollar, this is Paula Roberts.”

  “Please, it’s Bryan. Mr. Kollar sounds so formal. Nice to meet you, Paula.” Bryan extended his hand.

  Paula stepped forward and shook his hand briefly. She wasn’t smiling. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kollar.”

  Okay, there was definitely something she didn’t like about this man.

  He didn’t seem to notice. He continued to exude charm and affability. He pulled a slim wallet from his back pocket (I had no idea how he managed that feat considering how tight those pants were) and extracted a couple of cards.
“You can reach me at any of these numbers. If I’m not there, leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.” He flipped the cards over and laid them on the counter. “And on the back is a gift certificate for a free workout and tour at any of my facilities.”

  My smile was becoming more forced all the time. I actually found that a little tacky, giving us a gift certificate obviously intended to be a promotion for business. But all those manners my mother taught me kicked over in automatic mode. I grabbed a napkin, reached inside the glass case on the counter and withdrew one of my famous chocolate chip cookies.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Please accept a gift from my business too.” I offered him the cookie.

  He stepped backward and looked slightly alarmed as if I’d just offered him a gift of smallpox. He maintained his smile, but it was starting to look really strained. “No, thank you.”

  Well, that was awkward. Maybe he had allergies. I laid down the cookie and picked up a brownie. “Gluten free, no nuts.”

  He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t eat sugar, refined flour or chocolate. Those things are all toxic to your body.”

  I felt as if I’d been personally insulted. “Fine,” I snapped. “How about a Coke for the road? A little corn syrup, caffeine and artificial coloring?” I grabbed a glass, filled it with foaming brown liquid from the fountain, and slammed it onto the counter, sloshing some out.

  He looked at the mess on the counter, then back up to me. He no longer looked pretty. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, the words plastic. “I’ll be in touch.” He left.

  “I can’t believe he did that!” Paula exclaimed.

  “Me neither! How can anybody turn down my cookies and brownies and then call them toxic? The man’s insane!”

  “He’s certainly rude, coming around here to try to get something from you the day after Rick dies. That’s just wrong. You should not sell him that property, Lindsay. I don’t trust him. That property’s valuable. He’s trying to take advantage of your grief, catch you when you’re vulnerable.”

  I picked up the discarded cookie and took a bite. “Let’s don’t start believing the official version of the story. I’m not grieving, and I’m not vulnerable.”