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

by Sally Berneathy

  Something about that didn’t sound quite right. We needed some money? How did they plan to pay for sex if they needed money?

  “She looked like a regular woman, and she smiled at us!” Brad said. “You told us yesterday to go make some money.”

  Marissa stepped around Lawson, grabbed Brad’s hair in one hand and Clint’s in the other and started to drag them away. “Tried to sell yourselves to a cop?”

  Tried to sell yourselves to a cop? Omigawd! The implications of her words hit me like a ton of unsweetened chocolate straight to the gut. They hadn’t been soliciting Morrison for sex, they’d been trying to sell it to her! This just got better and better.

  “The two of you don’t have a brain between you!” Marissa berated the boys as they stumbled along behind her. “We’re about to be rich and you put all that at risk—”

  Wendy moved in front of her just before she reached her car. “I’m Wendy Turner with Channel 7. I’d love to hear about how the officer entrapped your sons.”

  I expected Marissa to backhand the reporter, but of course that wasn’t her style. She was, first and foremost, a con artist. She ordered her sons to get in the car, then turned and smiled for the camera. “Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to clear my sons’ names.”

  All attention was focused on Marissa, and for the briefest of moments I thought I might be able to escape from the debacle. I turned to go back into the restaurant, but a reporter from the other station stepped in front of me. “How do you feel about having your brothers-in-law released to your custody?”

  “My—they’re not—I mean—how did you find out?”

  “Police report. Your life has been pretty hectic for the last twenty-four hours, learning about your husband’s affair with Julia Akin, then her husband being questioned by the police, and now your murdered husband’s brothers have been arrested for prostitution. How are you holding up?”

  I tried to beat down the panic as I looked at the scene around me. Marissa was smiling and babbling and tossing her hair for the six o’clock news. All my customers in the restaurant were looking out the window, watching the entertainment. A crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. There was no way I was going to escape this with even a modicum of dignity.

  You know what they say…when life hands you a lemon, make Lemon Chocolate Pie.

  I straightened and looked directly into the camera. “As long as I have plenty of my wonderful chocolate creations, I’m holding up just fine.” I waved a hand toward the sign for my restaurant, Death by Chocolate. Yes, my mother was going to be horrified, but that’s pretty much a constant state for her. And if this had the same effect on business as that man being murdered in front of the place a few months ago, I could buy her a nice bottle of wine for consolation.

  “We’re getting ready to close now,” I said, “but we’ll be open again on Monday, and I’m going to create a special chocolate dessert that will help the families and friends of both victims, Rick and Julia, cope with this terrible disaster.”

  I smiled, waved to the camera and pushed my way into Death by Chocolate.

  Paula gave me a smile and a thumbs-up sign.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After the chaos of the day, I thought I’d go home, take a nap, have a relaxing bubble bath, and be all rested by the time Trent arrived for our special night which was absolutely going to happen this time.

  However, relax really isn’t a part of my vocabulary or my life.

  I tidied up the house, helped Henry stalk a few creatures, made some fresh cookies and put a roast in the oven. I have a talent for making chocolate desserts, but beyond that, my culinary skills are decidedly limited. Nevertheless, putting a roast with potatoes and onions into the oven and taking it out a couple of hours later was something even I could handle. Since Trent and I had already had a wonderful dinner the night before, I thought we’d stay in tonight. And maybe I’d hide his cell phone.

  Predictably my mother called. I lucked out. Either my plug for Death by Chocolate didn’t make the news, or my mother didn’t watch that channel. She was upset about the interview Marissa gave about the boys, of course, but I escaped her censure. I commiserated with her about Rick’s horrible family and got off the phone before she had a chance to ask about my plans for the evening.

  I was starting upstairs to have a quick shower when someone knocked on the door. Henry had been going up with me, but he stopped on the first step, back arched and hair standing on end, snarled, and bounded down to the front door.

  Rick was dead, so the person on my porch must be a particularly obnoxious magazine salesman, a serial killer or one of Rick’s relatives.

  I went back down and peeked out the peephole.

  Give the cat a prize! It was Marissa.

  I opened the door. “Not a good time. I’m really busy right now.”

  She started to push past me and come inside anyway, but she only made it halfway before Henry bared his teeth and hissed at her.

  She backed off. “Could we sit outside and chat for a minute?”

  “If I give you ten minutes of my time, will you leave?”

  “Of course.” She turned and headed for my porch swing. “I so appreciate your doing this. My life has become a nightmare with my son’s death and my other two boys doing foolish things because they’re so grief-stricken.”

  “Can the crap,” I said. “Tell me what you want. You’ve got nine and a half minutes.”

  She sat in the swing, and her expression changed, lost its artificial glow. “Straight talk. I can handle that. The thing is, I’m broke.”

  I was not about to sit beside her in the swing, so I stood. Besides, it gave me the advantage of looking down on her. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I guess the real estate business isn’t going so well.”

  She sighed. “It’s this economy. Everybody’s so careful with their money these days.”

  “That must make running scams very difficult.”

  She glared at me then eased into a sad smile. “A couple of months ago I asked Rick to borrow some money. He turned me down flat. Then I heard through the grapevine that he was working on a deal that would make him millions, so I asked if he’d let me in on the deal. Again he refused.”

  I folded my arms and nodded. “Rick’s selfish like that. Didn’t let me in on it either.”

  “But now he’s dead and we can both soon be rich.”

  I sucked in a breath and tried to keep my face impassive. Again I remembered Grace’s comment that Marissa could have murdered her own son. It would appear she had motive.

  “I have no desire to profit from anything Rick was involved in, and you may not get anything if Rickie really is Rick’s son.”

  Her eyes narrowed to malevolent slits. “I will see to it that horrible child never gets a penny of my son’s estate.”

  “Did you just threaten Rickie’s life?”

  Her smile returned. “Certainly not. I meant I’ll fight Grace in every court in the country if I have to.”

  “Really? If you’re broke, where are you going to get the money to hire a lawyer?”

  Her smile widened. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I need to hire a lawyer to represent my sons who did a very foolish thing last night, but you know how boys are.”

  “I’m very well acquainted with how the boys who happen to be your sons are. I was married to one of them.”

  “Yes, and you’ll be getting quite a lot of money from his estate, so it would only be fair if you’d advance some of that money to your husband’s mother.”

  “Sorry, can’t do it. I don’t have access to his money.”

  “Of course you do. You were his wife.” She didn’t stop smiling, but her expression became tight.

  “His estranged wife. We had no joint accounts.”

  “But you have money in your own account, and that’s still community property since you were married to my son when you earned that money. Rick would want you to help his mother.”

 
Through the screen door I heard Henry give a low growl. Sometimes I think that cat understands English.

  “Rick refused to help you. What makes you think he’d want me to?”

  “Because you’re a better person than Rick was.” Her voice actually had the ring of sincerity for the first time since I’d met her. “He said you were the most genuinely kind person he’d ever met.”

  For just a moment I felt a blink of kindness toward Rick. But that moment passed. “In other words, you think I’m a gullible sucker, somebody you can easily scam. I think your ten minutes are up. Good-bye.” I took a step toward the door.

  Marissa stood and laid a hand on my arm. “No. He said he could become a better person if he had you in his life. That’s why we all stayed away, to give him a chance.”

  Either she’d lied before when she said they were estranged because of a silly fight or she was lying now. Probably she lied both times. “Well, he didn’t make it. He was still a worthless, cheating con artist when he died. Look, I got you into Rick’s house. You’re living there for free, you’re eating his food. That’s it. That’s all you get from me. Now, if you’ll excuse me—” I shook off her hand.

  Marissa snorted. “Yeah, I’m living in a house with Grace and that awful child of hers. You have no idea how miserable that is.”

  “Actually, I do. They stayed here one night. If we find out that’s not Rick’s son, I’ll see to it they have to leave. But until we get the DNA results—”

  “Until? You’ve already ordered DNA tests?” Her eyes glittered with something resembling genuine happiness. A malevolent sort of happiness, but real nevertheless.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Good.” She smiled and started off the porch but then turned back. “If you could advance me just a thousand dollars—”

  “No.”

  “Five hundred.”

  “No. You really need to leave. My boyfriend the cop will be here any minute.”

  She left with alacrity.

  I didn’t really expect Trent for another hour or two, but that translated to sixty or a hundred and twenty minutes. It could qualify for any minute.

  I went over to Fred’s house.

  He opened the door before I knocked. “I was going to call you, but I saw that woman on your porch.”

  I went in and sat down on his sofa. No point in asking how he’d seen Marissa through all that foliage around my house. He has x-ray vision. I’m sure of it. “She wanted money. I told her no.”

  “Good. I saw you on TV.” He took a seat on his matching recliner.

  “The promo for Death by Chocolate?”

  “Yes. You articulated very nicely, but your hair was a mess.”

  “This morning when I did my hair, I wasn’t planning to be on TV!”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Your hair’s usually a mess.”

  “My hair’s curly, and Kansas City is humid. In what world is that my fault?”

  “I didn’t say it was your fault. I was just making an observation.”

  “Fine. Look, I didn’t come over here to discuss my hair. I think Marissa might have murdered Rick.”

  He nodded. His hair was immaculate, of course. “Filicide. It’s more common than you might think.”

  I told him what Marissa had said about her financial situation and Rick’s refusals to help her.

  “That gives us at least two viable murder suspects. Thomas Akin doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder. He knew about Rick and Juila. He hired a private detective to follow them.”

  I didn’t ask where Fred came by that bit of information.

  “What about Bryan Kollar? He wanted his parents’ property back from Rick. Maybe he wanted it bad enough to kill him. You said you were going to investigate him further.”

  Fred drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as if frustrated. “I did, but I haven’t found anything suspicious yet. He took up bodybuilding in college, bought a small gym and turned it into a major success. He’s single, an eligible bachelor about town. In high school, he was the skinny kid who got sand kicked in his face, so this whole bodybuilder thing is a major triumph for him.”

  “From a skinny kid to Mr. Body Beautiful? What about steroids? Maybe he killed Rick in a ’roid rage.”

  “When you see that kind of physical development, steroids are always a possibility, but I haven’t found any evidence. What I do find intriguing about Bryan Kollar is the lack of information available. He’s a local celebrity, but everything out there is very superficial, as if somebody has made an effort to hide any significant details. But if they’re there, I’ll find them.”

  “Why don’t we go visit the detective Akin hired?” I enjoy these little jaunts with Fred. They’re always interesting, informative, and sometimes I get to dress up and indulge my frustrated desire to be an actress. “If he was following them closely enough, he might have seen the murderer.”

  Fred nodded approvingly. “Good idea. I’ll look into setting that up.”

  “And maybe Bryan Kollar’s most recent girlfriend or gym manager or…well, I don’t know. Somebody who knows him. I could be your protégé who’s interested in becoming a female bodybuilder.”

  He gave me a skeptical, arched eyebrow look. “You’d have to lie about how much Coke and chocolate you imbibe.”

  “Hey, if I can pretend to be a stripper, I can pull off a bodybuilder.” I rose. “Now that you’ve insulted me, I’m going to go home and shower and get ready for Trent. Tonight is definitely The Night.”

  “What happened last night? Why did he leave so early, come back so late and leave again?”

  I told him about the bogus informant.

  “I wonder what information he had that made the police believe him.”

  “No idea, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “More than likely.”

  I went home and found Henry snoozing in the kitchen. That was odd. He always came to the door to greet me. “Some watch cat you are!”

  He opened his eyes and gave me a quick glance before settling down to sleep again. In that brief glance, I saw that his eyes were slightly crossed.

  He was drunk! Somehow he’d gotten into the catnip! I looked around. The drawer where I kept the catnip was open, and the bag of catnip was on the floor, showing signs of bite and claw marks with the contents scattered about.

  Henry was a pretty impressive cat, but I would never have believed he’d be able to open a drawer. Still, the evidence spoke for itself.

  I cleaned up the mess and left him snoozing while I went upstairs to shower.

  I reached inside the shower curtain that wrapped around my antique claw-foot tub to turn on the water.

  A man in my shower began cursing.

  Terror shot through me. Someone had broken into my house while I was at Fred’s! I’d left the front door open, knowing I was coming right back, but someone came in and gave Henry catnip so he could prowl my house without interruption! Was this Rick’s killer, returned to do away with me?

  Heart pounding, I grabbed the most substantial thing I saw, my metal hair dryer, reached inside the shower and turned the water to hot then yanked back the shower curtain.

  The wet man screamed.

  I screamed louder and whacked him with the hair dryer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Lindsay, it’s me!”

  I halted my hair dryer in the middle of my second swing. Confusion replaced my fear. “Rick?” It couldn’t be his ghost. That first swing had hit a solid object.

  He climbed out of the tub and reached back to turn off the shower. “First you scalded me and then you gave me a concussion!”

  This could not be happening. I must be hallucinating. Maybe somebody sneaked something extra in my last batch of brownies when I wasn’t looking. “You’re dead! What does a little hot water and a concussion matter to a dead man?”

  He grabbed a red towel from the rack and began wiping his hair. One of my best towels, and now I’d have to
burn it. “Is there blood?” he asked, examining the towel.

  “How can there be blood? Dead people don’t bleed!” I was desperately trying to hang onto his death.

  “I’m not dead!”

  I tossed my dryer into the sink in disgust. “Damn! I might have known! What are you doing here? Why did you pretend to be dead?”

  He spread his hands, looking down at his soaked clothes. “Why did you turn on the shower without looking inside?”

  “Because I always turn on the shower without looking inside! Why did you hide in my bathtub?”

  “You always shower in the mornings! I thought I’d be safe here until you went to sleep. Why were you going to shower in the evening?”

  I threw my arms into the air. “I had no idea there was a ban on evening showers! Had I but known, I’d have just continued to stink for the rest of the night!”

  “So you’re worried about how you’ll smell for the rest of the night? That cop’s coming over, isn’t he? That’s why you were going to take an evening shower!”

  “What difference does it make? You’re dead and we’re not married any longer!”

  “I’m not, and we are!”

  “Are you all right, Lindsay? I heard a scream.”

  I turned to see Fred standing in the bathroom doorway. “No, I’m not all right! Rick’s not dead!”

  “That explains the lack of male DNA at the scene of the explosion,” he said calmly.

  I glared at him. “At a time when I could use a little consolation, all you do is spout off about DNA!”

  “So the cops know I’m not dead?” Rick asked, his voice suddenly subdued.

  “They’re not certain yet,” Fred said, “but they’re beginning to speculate.”

  “Damn!” Rick sank down onto the toilet and put his head in his hands.

  “Why didn’t you warn me he might not be dead?” I demanded of Fred.

  “I didn’t want to upset you unnecessarily. I kept hoping they’d find something.”

  Rick lifted his head. “You’re ghouls, both of you!”

  “Well, you’re a…an undead, a zombie, maybe a vampire,” I said. “That’s about as ghoulish as it gets. What’s going on? Why aren’t you dead?”