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

by Sally Berneathy

  “And her son Rickie?”

  Marissa gave up her attempt to appear amiable. She glowered. “That boy is not Rick’s son.”

  Well. She certainly knew about the boy!

  “But Rick and Grace were married when the child was born?” Trent asked.

  “Married?” Marissa snorted. “That’s what she told people, but my son would never marry trash like her, and that boy is not his.” Marissa tilted her nose upward as if in scorn.

  Trent folded his arms and studied her quietly for a few moments. “They’re planning to move into Rick’s house too. Good thing there are five bedrooms.”

  Marissa shot to her feet. “I refuse to let that woman stay in my son’s house!”

  Trent shrugged and looked at me. He was still being Mr. Stone Face, but his eyes were glowing with green sparks. He was enjoying this. “Actually, it’s not up to you who stays in Rick’s house. Lindsay’s name is on the title of that house. Until her husband’s estate is settled, she’s in charge of what happens to it.”

  Marissa sat back down and smiled at me.

  I returned her smile, and mine was genuine as I contemplated what fun it would be to put Rick’s mother, brothers, ex-wife and possible son all together in his house. I’d have to go for a visit. Take a video. Share it with Fred and Paula. Maybe post it on the Internet.

  Trent rose. “I’d better be going. I know how early Lindsay has to get up. It was nice to meet you folks. Lindsay, could I trouble you for a couple of cookies to go?”

  He followed me to the kitchen where he waved a hand at the empty Coke cans. “I didn’t want to alert them to what I’m doing. Have you got a bag I can hide these in?”

  I gave him a white plastic grocery store bag. “You don’t think they’ll be suspicious when your sack of cookies rattles?”

  He grinned. “I’ll tell them they’re stale cookies.” He started out of the kitchen then turned back, his expression serious. “You probably need to hire a lawyer to get Rick’s estate straightened out.”

  “I suppose so. Maybe Dad will step in. They have a probate lawyer at their firm. Dying isn’t as disreputable as getting a divorce.”

  “That would be good. If I were you, I’d request a DNA test on the son.”

  “We’ll see. As long as I get what’s mine, I don’t care if the rest of his estate goes to some alcoholic bum living under a bridge.”

  “Marissa’s going to fight that boy’s claim.”

  “If that really is his son, I guess he’s entitled to something. Rick didn’t pay any child support. At least, not that I know of. Heck, I don’t know anything about what he did or who he was.” I gave a resigned sigh. “Okay, I’ll talk to a lawyer and get all that stuff set up.”

  Trent said good night to Mama and the boys, and I walked out on the porch with him. He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a long, delicious kiss. I melted against him. Well, almost. Even though it was dark and there was no way Rick could be watching even if it wasn’t dark since he was dead, when some animal rattled in the bushes I gasped and jumped back, searching the shadows for signs of Rick-head.

  Trent smiled, but his gaze darted around involuntarily. He shared my paranoia. “As soon as you get rid of your house full of company—” He finished the sentence with another kiss.

  The critter in the bushes made a hissing noise as if objecting to our embrace. Which, I told myself, was not possible. I was pretty sure the wild animals didn’t care if I kissed Trent.

  “Possum,” I said. “I’ll turn Henry out and he’ll take care of it. Then tomorrow—” I gave him what I hoped was a seductive smile.

  “Tomorrow.”

  He left and I went back inside to spend the night with Mama and the boys.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning I dashed into the kitchen at Death by Chocolate thirty minutes late. Paula was already up to her elbows in cinnamon roll dough. “I’m sorry,” I said, setting my purse down and preparing to make chocolate at record speed.

  “I was getting worried,” she said, sprinkling sugar and cinnamon onto her sheet of dough.

  “I just couldn’t get those people moving. Took Mama half an hour to put on her makeup. I really think they believed if they dallied long enough, I was going to let them stay there all day. Like Henry would have tolerated that.” I tied an industrial strength apron over my jeans and tee-shirt and scrubbed my hands in the big sink. “You should have heard Brad whine when the hot water ran out before he finished his shower! That kind of made it all worthwhile.”

  “You should have told him there was plenty of hot water at the Motel Six down the street.”

  I laughed. “They ought to be able to get in Rick’s house today, and I’ll be rid of them. And you’ll never guess who else is going to be staying in Rick’s house. His ex-wife and son!”

  Paula’s jaw dropped, and she stopped halfway through rolling up the cinnamon dough. “Ex-wife? Son? Rick was married before? He has a son?”

  I brought out my mixing bowl and prepared to begin the chocolate. “Well, Marissa says they weren’t really married and that the boy isn’t Rick’s, so who knows what the truth is? We’ll see. I’m going to call Dad and see if he can set me up with a probate lawyer so we can get everything straightened out. Probably need to get a DNA test on the boy. If Rick left a Will, this is going to get even more interesting. If he did, I’m sure none of those people are in it and all of them will challenge it.”

  Paula went back to rolling up the dough. “You ought to get DNA tests on all of them.”

  I shrugged. “I have no doubt that woman is really Rick’s mother, and those boys look an awful lot like him. But I might insist on tests for everybody just for fun if they keep annoying me.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “I have no idea. I drove here as fast as I could, hoping they wouldn’t follow me.”

  She gave me a skeptical look. “They found you yesterday.”

  And they found me again that day. A few minutes after we put up the Open sign, Mama and the boys came in and seated themselves at a table near the window.

  I fed them and resisted the urge to present them with a bill. How tacky would that be? But I was tempted.

  The breakfast crowd thinned, and Paula and I began preparations for lunch. I was making Cookie Dough Cheesecake Bars, and Paula was chopping ham when the kitchen door burst open.

  “Can I help you do something?” Marissa asked cheerfully.

  I cringed at the mere thought of her being involved in our food. “No, thanks,” I said. “We’ve got it all under control.”

  She stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind her. “Are you sure? You’ve done so much for us, we’d just like to help you. I’ve worked in a restaurant before. I could chop things like she’s doing.”

  Chop things like she’s doing? I looked at Paula. She froze, her sharp chef’s knife poised in mid-chop. I could tell from her expression that she was visualizing Marissa’s head on her chopping block in place of the ham.

  “Nobody but employees allowed in the kitchen,” I said. “Department of Health rules. You and the boys help yourselves to more coffee, and I’ll call and check on the status of that awful yellow tape around Rick’s house just as soon as I get a chance.”

  She smiled. “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure.”

  She turned to leave, and I heard the bell over the front door jingle, signaling someone leaving or arriving.

  “I’ll get it,” I said, setting down my cocoa and following Marissa out front.

  Bryan Kollar beamed from across the room. Great. He and Marissa could have a phony smile contest.

  “Brought those papers by.” He held out a large brown envelope.

  I recalled quite distinctly telling him during our phone conversation of the night before that I didn’t want him to do that. However, suddenly I saw a way to get rid of two annoying pests with one swat.

  “Bryan, this is Marissa Malone, Rick’s mother.”
Let them bug each other and leave me out of the loop. “She’s probably the one you need to talk to about buying that piece of property from Rick’s estate. She’s probably going to inherit it, not me.”

  He turned on a dime and focused all his charm on her. She radiated that charm right back. We were into severe charm overload, and they’d only just met.

  “Marissa,” he said, slipping the envelope under his arm so he could take her hand between both of his. “I had no idea Rick’s mother would be so beautiful. I’m delighted to meet you.”

  “Bryan Kollar,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you. I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you in person.”

  “Let’s sit down and talk.”

  Together they moved to a table on the far side of the room from where Brad and Clint lingered over their coffee, watching their mother intently. Studying their craft?

  I took coffee to Marissa and Bryan. I’d like to say I did it to be polite, but I actually did it to be annoying. If Bryan thought my cookies were poison, he probably didn’t indulge in caffeine, either. I just wanted to see how far he’d go in his efforts to lay a con job on Marissa.

  When I came out to write the specials on the big chalk board, all four of them were gone. Bryan hadn’t drunk his coffee. At least he was consistent in his dietary habits.

  *~*~*

  After the lunch crowd had cleared out and Paula and I got the place cleaned up for the next day, I called Trent.

  “How’s the removal of that awful yellow tape going?” I asked. “Rick’s place ready for his family members to have a big reunion? The sooner we get them out of my place, the sooner you and I can play games there.” I thought I’d give him a little extra incentive to get rid of the crime scene tape.

  “We’ve run into a little problem.”

  My heart sank. I did not want to hear about a problem, no matter how little. “What kind of a problem?”

  “Did Rick have a girlfriend?”

  “Probably. He usually did. Why? Do we have somebody else who wants to move in his place? There’s a Motel Six just a few miles away.”

  Trent cleared his throat. “We need another day with the house.”

  “No!” A collage of images from the past twenty-four hours flashed through my mind…the boys snoring in my living room, Marissa hogging the bathroom, strange people staggering around everywhere. “I need possession of Rick’s house much worse than you do!”

  “Sorry. Not yet. Kick those people out. Send them to a motel.”

  “They’re Rick’s family!”

  “Since when does that matter? You don’t owe Rick’s family anything.”

  “No, I don’t owe them anything. I didn’t mean that. I just mean they’re like Rick. I’ll do my best to send them to a motel, but they’re very difficult to get rid of.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to figure out something. We’ve found female remains in the wreckage of Rick’s car. We need to identify who died in that car with him, so that means we’re going to be spending more time in the house.”

  I flinched at that news. “Damn. Dating Rick is enough punishment for any woman. Really sucks that dating him got her killed. You have no idea who it is?”

  “So far we haven’t found anything in the house that would identify her. We’re checking missing persons reports. I was hoping you might have some idea.”

  “I figured that was why he wanted the divorce all of a sudden, because he had somebody, but I have no idea who it was. Do you think she might be the reason he was killed? Maybe she was married and her husband killed both of them.”

  “That’s possible.”

  “I’m glad I have an alibi so you can’t think his estranged wife killed both of them.”

  “I’m glad too.”

  I was making a joke. Trent sounded way too serious.

  We hung up and I returned my phone to my purse.

  “Did you lock the front door yet?” Paula asked, coming up beside me.

  “No, not yet. Getting ready to do that right now.”

  “Still have your guests tonight?”

  “They’re gone for the moment. Maybe they’ll decide to get a motel with unlimited hot water.” I crossed the room to the front door.

  A small boy who looked as if he’d sprung straight out of the pages of a Dickens’ novel looked through the glass at me with large, soulful brown eyes. A shock of dark hair fell over his forehead, completing the image. I resisted the urge to grab a handful of cookies and give them to him. Probably not a good idea. All those legal liabilities. I opened the door to tell him we were closed.

  “Did you kill my daddy?” he asked.

  Chapter Nine

  Before I could get my jaw off the ground, a woman stepped up behind the boy. She was barely taller than he was and had the same large Bambi eyes though her features were sharp and her hair was bright red, a shade of red that Mother Nature was never going to claim. “Now, Rickie, don’t be rude to Daddy’s new wife.”

  Once again Paula came to my rescue. “Sorry, we’re closed.” She tried to shut the door, but the woman caught the edge and held it open.

  “You must be Lindsay. I’m Grace Ganyon, and this is Rickie, Jr.” She extended a small hand with inch long nails that matched her hair. They were similar to Marissa’s, but Grace’s polish was chipped. Out of habit I accepted her hand. Small but hard and tough. “Rick told us so much about you. He always said if anything happened to him, we could count on you to help us.”

  I was pretty sure Rick did not say any such thing. “Odd. He never mentioned you all.”

  Grace heaved a deep sigh. “Rick wasn’t a real responsible dad.”

  That I could believe.

  “Can I have a cookie?” the boy asked, shoving into the room and heading for the display case.

  Rude, pushy…yeah, he could be Rick’s son.

  Which meant I probably had some sort of obligation to him since I was currently in charge of Rick’s estate.

  Damn.

  “Might as well.” I sighed and opened the door wider to allow Grace inside.

  Paula shot me a disgusted look, locked the door behind Grace and flipped the sign to “Closed.”

  Nice gesture, but if there were more of Rick’s relations out there, I doubted a simple sign would discourage them.

  I got cookies and Cokes for the kid and his mom, and we sat down at a table.

  Paula came over. “Where’s your cell phone?”

  “In my purse.”

  She waited silently while I got my purse took out my phone and laid it on the table, then she nodded. “I’ve got to pick up Zach from daycare, but I’ll have my phone with me. Call me if you need…anything.”

  “Got it,” I said. I appreciated the offer but thought she might be overreacting a little. Grace and the kid were obnoxious and pushy, but I couldn’t imagine I’d need help in dealing with them. Well, maybe to get them to go away.

  Paula left through the kitchen.

  “Thank you so much,” Grace said. “We haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast.”

  “Breakfast sucked.” The boy talked around a mouthful of cookie.

  Grace patted his grungy little hand and looked pitiful. “The motel we’re staying at didn’t have a very good free breakfast. Just some cereal and stale pastries.”

  “Well, bless your hearts,” I said. Grace either didn’t notice or chose to ignore my sarcastic tone. However, if this was Rick’s son, I supposed the least I could do was feed him, something Rick had apparently never done. “I could make you a sandwich.” Paula would have scowled at me if she’d been there to hear my offer.

  Grace grabbed my hand. Lots of grabby folks from Crappie Creek. “Thank you! Rick said you were a nice person.”

  I rose, pulling my hand from her grasp. I couldn’t take any more. It was one thing to tolerate a load of crappie from Rick’s mother, but I wasn’t sure this woman had ever been his wife or the mother of his son. “When did you last talk to Rick?” I asked.


  She smiled wanly. “It’s been a while.”

  I smiled smugly. “That explains it. If you’d talked to him recently, he wouldn’t have told you I was nice.”

  I went back to the kitchen and slapped together a couple of sandwiches then took them out to Grace and Rickie, Jr. They did dive into the food as if they were starving. Maybe they really were.

  “I’m glad to hear you’ve got a motel room because the cops are keeping Rick’s house for another day, and my guest room is full,” I said in an effort to thwart any ideas they might have on that front.

  Grace swallowed her bite of sandwich and took a slow sip of her drink. “Well, we weren’t really planning to stay at the motel another night. Rick has never paid child support, and money’s a little tight right now.” Her face crinkled, and she looked as if she might be going to cry. Actually, that’s not quite true. She looked as if she might be going to pretend to cry.

  “Mama, do we have to sleep with the bugs again tonight?”

  Melodrama. Another element that suggested this boy had Rick’s DNA.

  “No, baby, we’ll sleep in the car tonight.”

  I sank down in the chair beside Grace, ready to launch my defense against the attack I knew was coming. “You don’t want to come to my house. You’d have to take the basement, and I have a lot of bugs down there, mostly spiders. Big ones. So big they catch birds instead of flies in their webs.”

  “I could sleep on the sofa, and Rickie would be happy on the floor with just a blanket to wrap up in. It would be better than my car.”

  “Sorry, those spots are already taken. But you might persuade Rick’s mom to let you share the guest bed.”

  I had a feeling that would get a reaction, and it did.

  Grace no longer looked like she was going to cry. Suddenly she looked as if she was going to bite. “Mary’s staying at your house?”

  I wasn’t sure if Mary was a nickname for Marissa or vice versa, and I had no idea what name was on that woman’s birth certificate, so I ignored the whole issue. “Rick’s mother and his two brothers are staying at my house. I have a small house. We’ve already hit way beyond cozy.”