by Nancy CoCo
“Hey, Allie, what’s up?” Jenn asked when she picked up the phone.
“Are you all right?” I asked. “Where are you?”
“I’m fine. I’m at the McMurphy working the reception desk. It’s been a little crazy here. We sure could use your help.”
“I’ll be right there,” I said. “Just do me a favor, okay?”
“Sure, what?”
“If you see or feel anything suspicious, please call me right away.”
“Now you’re scaring me. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “Mal dug up another sock and a toe.”
“Oh no,” Jenn said. “Was there a dead body?”
“Not that we know,” I said. “Rex told me that the ME sent along a note that Jack Sharpe wasn’t intact. Rex thinks the toe belonged to Jack.”
“Wait, I thought he was shot.”
“He was,” I said. “But it looks like they tortured him before they did him in. We think they might have cut off the toe and buried it in a sock under a bush in the path Mal and I sometimes take when we walk down to the shore.”
“Wait,” Jenn said with a long sigh. “I thought you solved the case of the body parts.”
“It might be a copycat,” I said.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“No, it’s not,” I said. “We’ve been through so much this season. I’d hate to think that someone might try to re-create it all.”
“If they do re-create all of them, that most likely means they are local and have been watching you since your Papa Liam died. There’s no way they would know all of the cases you’ve worked on other wise.”
“True, I guess that is a way to narrow down the killer,” I said. “Do you think they killed Jack for a reason?”
“Are you looking for motive?” Jenn asked. “I haven’t heard anything about Jack other than he likes to fish and he worked in the stables to support his fishing habit.”
“I know,” I said with a frown. “I haven’t heard anything that would be a good reason for someone to want to kill him.”
“You girls don’t need to worry about solving this,” Rex said. “I’ve got my full team on it.”
“I know,” I said, “But a little extra help never hurt.”
“Allie,” he said, his tone a warning.
I simply smiled at him. “It’s all going to be all right.”
“Yes,” he said. “It is. Let me do my job.”
“Come on, Mal,” I said to my puppy. “Let’s let the police do their jobs and get back home.” I walked down Main Street.
I could hear Jenn giggle on the other end of the phone. “What are you laughing at?” I asked.
“You,” she said and I swear I could imagine her shaking her head. “There’s no way you’re going to leave this one to Rex.”
“No way,” I echoed. “This is personal. I want to make sure that none of my family or friends get hurt again. That’s why I wanted you to be careful until I get back to the McMurphy. Shane said that the chess moves they found at this site showed the killer’s second move—or maybe his first. We don’t know for sure yet what order the moves were made in. Either way, Dirk suggested I might want to keep an eye on who the killer might think my players are.”
“Players?”
“You know, knight, rook, bishop, queen,” I said. “If this is a chess game, then I have to figure out who my pieces are and how to keep them safe.”
“Oh, am I your queen?” Jenn asked.
“Yes,” I said as I wove my way through the little bit of foot traffic on Main Street. “The problem is the whole island knows it.”
“You think the killer will try to hurt me?” Jenn asked.
“Let’s make sure he can’t,” I said.
“On that we can both agree,” Jenn said.
I made my way back to the McMurphy with no further incidents. I arrived to find Sandy in the fudge shop kitchen making a sculpture that resembled Stonehenge.
I took Mal’s halter and leash off her and let her free, then walked into the fudge shop. “Hey, Sandy, is that Stonehenge?”
“Chocolate-henge,” Sandy said with a straight face. “It was commissioned by the island Wiccans. They are celebrating the harvest and thought it would be fun to have a centerpiece.”
“That’s weird,” I said, and studied the circle of standing rocks she was creating.
Sandy shrugged. “I don’t judge. I make what people ask for and let them worry about what it means.”
“Right, well, listen,” I said. “Mal and I found another sock and toe buried under the bushes on Main. Rex said that the toe most likely belongs to Jack Sharpe.”
“Is that good news?”
“It means that no one else has been murdered,” I said. “So, yes, good news, I suppose. Although there was another message.”
“What did it say?” Sandy asked. Her expression was mild concern. Something I’d learned about Sandy was that she didn’t show as much animated emotion as I did. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t paying attention.
I repeated the message. “It’s suggested that the killer may be eyeing the people closest to me as pieces in a giant game of chess. What is your take on it?”
“If that is true then Jack Sharpe was a knight in the killer’s game,” Sandy said. “His first move was a classic knight opening and now he has moved a pawn.”
“I need to learn this game,” I said.
“Funny, but it was an opening I learned when I first learned chess,” Sandy said. “Perhaps the villain doesn’t know chess well either.”
“If he doesn’t know chess, then why message me with chess moves?” I wondered out loud.
“Perhaps he’s trying too hard to be clever,” Sandy said. “Perhaps he’s simply deluded. He did kill a man and presumably cut the man’s toe off.”
“Right,” I said. “Thanks for the reality check.”
She simply looked at me. “Crazy people are far less devious than they think.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.”
That made me smile. Sandy was indeed quiet.
“If the killer thinks that the people close to me are chess pieces, that means you could be in danger.”
“Would he think of me as a pawn?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “You are too important to me.”
“Then a bishop, perhaps,” Sandy said. “I have a few moves before I need to worry. If the killer plays a true game.”
“Here’s my doggy,” Jenn said, as she entered the lobby and picked Mal up. She brought her toward Sandy and me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Mal found another clue,” Jenn said. “You should hire her out as a private investigator.” She picked up Mal’s paw. “Marshmallow McMurphy, PI.”
“Only if they pay well,” I teased.
“Allie puts everyone to work,” Sandy said.
“I do, don’t I?” I laughed and the girls laughed with me. Jenn and I walked out of the fudge shop and Mella wound her way around our legs. I picked the cat up. “If Mal is a private investigator, how am I going to put you to work?”
“She’s in pest control,” Jenn said. “You can hire her out as a good mouser.”
“There you go,” I said. “Sounds like the McMurphy will always be able to pay its bills.”
We laughed. It was nice to joke a bit after all the serious things that had been happening lately. Sandy’s reminder that I may not be the only one who doesn’t know how to play chess took some pressure off me.
I had more important things to think about than playing a game. Like Jenn leaving for Chicago in a week. How was I ever going to replace her?
Easy S’more Fudge Bars
Crust:
1 premade graham cracker pie crust
Fudge Filling:
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
1 (14 oz.) can sweetened condensed milk
Marshmallow Topping:
1 (7 oz.)
container marshmallow fluff
Heat oven to 400 degrees F.
Bake pie crust about 5 minutes, enough time to warm the crust and crisp it up a bit. Remove from heat.
In a glass bowl melt the chocolate chips—stir every 15 seconds (takes about a minute). Add the sweetened condensed milk. Stir until well combined.
Pour fudge into the pie pan and smooth.
Spoon marshmallow cream over top.
Turn oven to broil. Broil bars until the marshmallow edges take on a golden hue.
Remove from heat and chill. Cut into thin slices and enjoy!
Chapter 6
The mayor showed up at the McMurphy about ten the next morning. I had just checked out the last person leaving for the day and was behind the reception desk. “Miss McMurphy,” Mayor Andrews addressed me as she walked into the McMurphy.
“Mayor Andrews,” I said, and walked out from behind Frances’s desk. “What brings you into the McMurphy?” I think it was the first time the mayor had ever been in the McMurphy this season.
“I’ve come representing a group of shop owners on your side of the street. We have a nice friendly competition going on about what side of Main Street will be in the opening shots of the pilot being filmed.”
“I heard,” I said. “Can I pour you a coffee?”
“Yes, cream, please,” Mayor Andrews said. Sylvia Andrews was in her late fifties. She had brown hair cut in a shoulder-length bob. A sharp nose and narrow eyes accented a thin face with high cheekbones. Today she wore loose-fitting jeans and a white blouse. The mayor had picture-perfect makeup and hair that was so full of product a hurricane couldn’t budge it. “I heard a rumor that you refuse to buy into the costs associated with the filming.”
“That’s true,” I said, and handed her a paper cup with a heat sleeve. I had filled the cup with my best dark roast and half-and-half. “I don’t think the businesses should have to pay for the production company to film Main Street.”
“I’ve been working for years to get film crews back on Mackinac,” the mayor said, and sipped her coffee. “We had a huge bump in tourist dollars when they filmed Somewhere in Time. But that was decades ago. With today’s thirty-second attention span we need to keep Mackinac in the public eye. I thought you would have seen the value just in the fudge-off you were a part of this summer.”
“I did see quite a bit of business from that show,” I said. “But I didn’t pay them.”
“The complaints my office got were that you and the Grand Hotel and others were unfairly highlighted in that show,” she said. “This competition will see that all of the businesses on the island have as much chance to be highlighted.”
“Look,” I said, and raised my hand. “I didn’t ask to be a part of that show. I was drafted. So any complaints people might have, have nothing to do with me. The fact of the matter is, Mayor, I have a tight budget since I did the remodel on the McMurphy this spring. I’d rather spend my money on further improvements than some off chance that a show will get beyond a pilot.”
“I understand,” Mayor Andrews said. “But I hate to see you not be a team player. I understand you’ve been working hard to integrate yourself into island society. Pitching in will go far in helping the members of the Chamber of Commerce feel like you care about the island.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care about the island,” I said.
“Then I’m sure you will agree that filming Main Street will go a long way to helping sustain the tourist business. Especially with a weekly television show starring Dirk Benjamin.”
“He seems to be a big draw,” I said.
“I understand they’re in negotiations with Bella Hand for the main female role,” Mayor Andrews said. She eyed me speculatively. “They say Bella will play a bed-and-breakfast owner who is an amateur sleuth.”
“Gee, does she make fudge?” I asked, tongue in cheek.
“Look, this is serious business,” Mayor Andrews said with a slight scowl on her face at my antics. “If the producers pick your side of Main Street, they will be looking at various businesses to re-create internal sets. They could pick the McMurphy as Bella’s home. That would bring a lot of tourism to the entire island and especially added dollars to the McMurphy.”
“I think the McMurphy is fine the way it is,” I said. “We’ve had a record season. I’m almost at capacity even though the season is over. I seriously don’t have the room to accommodate any more business.”
“You’re thinking small, Allie,” the mayor said. “With added income and revenue, you could add on to the McMurphy.”
“We both know I’d have to get any new additions to the McMurphy approved by the historical committee. They don’t like changes to Main Street.”
“I have a considerable sway with the committee, Allie,” she said, and sipped her coffee. “I could see that the expansion gets approved.”
“Right now all I want is to get approval to use my flat rooftop as a deck for events. People can look out over Main Street, and the view of the straits is gorgeous. I think you can see quite a bit of the island up there.”
“A rooftop deck? What are your thoughts for its use?”
“I was thinking parties, reunions, wedding receptions, and other things like that,” I said. “In fact, we could use it for a variety of fund-raisers for projects on the island.”
“Hmm, I can see what I can do to get the committee’s approval,” she said. “As long as you understand that you need to be a team player.”
“But if I pay the two grand you want for the producers, I won’t have any money for the rooftop deck,” I pointed out.
“If you don’t help in the Main Street promotion, you may not get any permits for quite a while,” she said. “I’ve got two years before I run for office again.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that a threat?”
“Merely an observation,” Mayor Andrews said. “I’m sure you’ll come around and help out your fellow Main Street shops.”
“I’ll give it more thought,” I said. The bells on the door rang and a couple came in pulling suitcases. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got guests to attend to.”
“Don’t take too long,” the mayor said. “The committee is meeting with the producers this evening. Shooting begins on Monday.”
“What if I put in my two thousand dollars and the other side wins anyway?”
“Then your money will be returned,” the mayor said. “And you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that you did everything you could to help the producers make the right choice.”
“Sounds like a gamble,” I said. “I’ll let the committee know by this afternoon.” I went over to check in Mr. and Mrs. Wilhoite. Their room wasn’t ready yet since it was early, but we were able to put their suitcases in a locked closet space and let them go enjoy their day on the island.
Sandy came in to work on her chocolate features and I left her in charge of the fudge shop. I went up to the second floor to clean the rooms. Usually Frances and Jenn did the room cleaning. We had talked about hiring a full-time maid, but there wasn’t money for that in the budget yet.
It took me about thirty minutes to properly clean a room. With six rooms per floor and two floors it was six hours’ worth of work a day. But it was satisfying work. I changed sheets and made beds and thought about the mayor’s proposal of the possibility of adding another floor of rooms. It would mean I would have to give up the roof deck, tear out my office and apartment, put in more rooms, and then add a floor with a new apartment. It also meant more stairs to climb to get up to the apartment from the back alley.
I didn’t like it. The McMurphy was built to accommodate a certain number of customers. Just enough to not overwork the family and still make a living. Of course, I can always take out the fourth-floor apartment and put in rooms, but my father grew up in the owner’s apartment and I wanted my children to experience that kind of life. That is, if I ever had children.
I couldn’t imagine Trent’s family letting t
heir grandchildren grow up above a hotel and fudge shop. I know he thinks we could work things out, but I wasn’t sure of a future without living at the McMurphy.
“Hey, Allie,” Jenn said as she stuck her head into the last room I was cleaning. “Are you in here?”
“Yes,” I said as I exited the in-room bathroom. “I’m finally finished with the rooms.”
“Did you stop for lunch?”
“No,” I said as I exited the room with a bucket and cleaning supplies. My hands were in yellow rubber gloves. “I miss you and Frances.”
“I finished prepping for the opening on the fund-raiser,” Jenn said. “I’ll be able to help more tomorrow.”
“Thankfully, we have two rooms I don’t need to clean due to no guests. It saved me an entire hour.” I glanced at the time and felt a frisson of panic. “Darn it, I need to get dressed and out to the committee on paying the producers.”
“I thought you had decided not to play,” Jenn said as she followed me up to the apartment. I dumped the cleaning tools just inside my apartment and headed to my bedroom to wash up.
“Mayor Andrews stopped by this morning and made noises that if I didn’t play I might not get the permits to make the roof deck.”
“Oh, that’s not right,” Jenn said. “Are you really going to let her push you like that?”
I pulled off my polo and black slacks and washed up before tossing a sundress over my head. A quick addition of minimal makeup and I was as ready as I could be for the committee. Jenn sat on my bed and watched me.
“What are you going to do? If you pay for the production company to film in front of the McMurphy, you won’t have any money to fix the roof.”
“I think the production company should pay me to film my exterior,” I said. “I’m going to say just that at the meeting.”
“Oh boy,” Jenn said. “That’s going to be an unpopular move.”
“It’s the only move for me,” I said as I slipped into sandals and headed downstairs. “Are you here for the afternoon? Can you watch Mal and take care of the McMurphy?”