by Nancy CoCo
“We solved a mystery,” Jenn said. “I’ll let Allie tell you about it. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“Are you leaving?” Frances asked.
“Yes,” Jenn said, and brushed a kiss on my cheek and then Frances’s cheek. “I’ve got a new job in Chicago. But never fear, I will be back before you know it.” She went to the door and I noticed Shane met her on the sidewalk with her suitcases.
“I sure hope she knows what she’s doing,” I said.
“She’ll be fine,” Frances said. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“So tell me, what has been going on while we were gone?” Mr. Devaney asked.
“Oh, Sandy’s cousin Sharon stepped in and took over the front desk duties for you.”
“Wonderful,” Frances said. Her eyes twinkled. “Sharon always does a good job.”
“There was a film crew on the island filming a murder mystery pilot.”
“That’s interesting,” Mr. Devaney said as he brought Frances a cup of tea and set a number card down on the table. “I ordered your favorite salad,” he said, and kissed her cheek and sat down beside her.
“Even more interesting is the fact that the star of the pilot and the writer were murdering single men who didn’t interact much with society.”
“What?” Frances blinked at me.
“Oh, and I had a new security system put into the McMurphy. We now have key cards and cameras and such.” I sipped my tea.
“What kind of system?” Mr. Devaney asked, frowning. “Why didn’t you wait for me to advise you?”
“You were on your honeymoon and there was a killer on the loose.”
“Do you have things well in hand?” Frances asked.
I sat back with a smile. “Almost. There’s a bit of an issue with Trent and Rex, but time will work it out.”
“Ah, love can be difficult when you’re young,” Frances said, and put her hand in Mr. Devaney’s.
I lifted my glass of tea. “A toast to the newlyweds. May your new life be filled with love and joy.”
“Here, here,” Mr. Devaney said and we all three touched cups. I looked out the window at the slow bustle of Main Street and knew, no matter what happened, Mackinac Island was my home.
Don’t miss the next delightful
Candy-Coated mystery from Nancy Coco
Fudge Bites
Coming soon from Kensington Publishing Corp. Keep reading to enjoy a sample excerpt . . .
Chapter 1
“You look amazing,” Frances said to me. “Like the scariest of the walking dead.”
I laughed. I could feel the makeup cracking and so I tried really hard to get it together. “Uh-oh, I’ve got skin flapping off my cheek.” I pushed on the latex flap that concealed the gory makeup underneath. “I’m sure glad zombies aren’t real.”
“I love the idea of the zombie walk,” Frances said. “The fact that the profits all go to the Red Dress Foundation is fantastic.”
“I like the idea that all the bars and restaurants pitched in to supply food for the hungry masses,” I said.
“Fudge isn’t exactly food,” Frances said. Frances, a stunning seventysomething, was my hotel manager. She had worked at the Historic McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop since before she retired from teaching. Thankfully, she had stayed as an employee after my Papa Liam had died and I had moved in to take over the family business.
My name is Allie McMurphy and at this very moment I was putting the finishing touches on my zombie pinup girl costume. I didn’t usually participate in late-night events because I get up very early in the morning to make fudge. But October is off-season and most of the fudge is sold online during the off-season. It meant I didn’t have to have fudge ready for when the tourists came in the morning. Yes, I got to sleep in until 8 a.m. if I wanted.
The zombie walk was for a charity close to my heart. Its purpose was to remind people that heart disease is the number one killer of women. The event was put together by the senior center. It was called the Night of the Walking Red. Mrs. Tunison—one of my favorite seniors—was the head of the committee. She had insisted I enter the walk. There was going to be a costume contest later.
I had made pumpkin chocolate chip fudge for the occasion. “You and Mr. Devaney should come out for the walk,” I said to Frances. “You would make great zombies. I know you like to play with makeup.”
“Well,” she said as she adjusted the collar on my cardigan, “I did sell Mary Kay for twenty years.”
“I have a lot of leftover makeup upstairs. You can use it. You and Mr. Devaney could be a married couple of zombies.”
“I don’t think Douglas is into that kind of silliness,” she said.
“What kind of silliness?” I turned to see Mr. Devaney walking through the door from the basement. He had a first name—Douglas—but no one used it except for Frances. He paused when he saw me. “You been in a car accident?”
“There are no cars on Mackinac Island,” I reminded him. Mackinac Island, Michigan, likes to call itself the fudge capital of the world. It’s a small island in the straits between the Upper and Lower Peninsulas of Michigan. The entire island has been combustion engine–free for over a hundred years. The only way to get around is to walk, bike, or take a horse carriage. I love the traditions of the island. Things are slower and the sights and sounds of modern life are left behind.
Huge Victorian “cottages” with their turrets and gingerbread trim line the streets. For centuries the wealthy from Chicago and Detroit have escaped the hustle and bustle of the big city to spend the summer season on the island.
They usually came by ferries, although some came by private jet these days. My friend Sophie is a private pilot. She works for the Grand Hotel during the season, but also has her regulars who ask her to fly them on and off the island when the ferries quit running.
Sophie was meeting me for the Walking Red event. My best friend, Jenn Christensen, had left the island for an important job in Chicago. Sophie and Liz McElroy, the editor and lead reporter for the Town Crier newspaper, had stepped in to keep me from moping too much or feeling lonely. Jenn had come to Mackinac to help me through my first season. She was an excellent event planner and had connected with the islanders like a pro. Me, on the other hand, not so much. Even though my family had owned the McMurphy for over one hundred years, I had grown up in Detroit and gone to school in Chicago. I wasn’t quite accepted as a true local, despite my efforts. I was slowly fitting in, but there had been a few bumps in the road.
Things had been going smoothly since Jenn left. But it was the off-season and Jenn had left me with strict instructions. I had spent some time following them as closely as possible, but I didn’t have the same knack with people that Jenn had. Truth was, I missed her.
I felt a bump on my leg and looked down to see my bichon poo puppy. Marshmallow—Mal for short—was nudging me with her nose. She jumped up and I scratched her behind the ears. “What do you think of my zombie look?” I asked the dog.
She seemed unfazed by the red-and-white makeup.
“I think I’ll skip the zombie makeup,” Mr. Devaney said as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffee bar at the far side of the lobby. “Go ahead and do it if you want to, Frances,” he said with a warm look in his eye. “I’d love to see you have some fun.”
“Oh, pooh,” she said. “I’ve got to watch the front desk. We have a couple of families coming in for the weekend.”
I glanced at my watch. It was getting dark at 5 p.m. “Did they say if they expected to arrive late?”
“Sophie is bringing them in in the next few minutes,” Frances said. “I know it’s close to Halloween, but I don’t want to give them the impression that we aren’t a warm and welcoming place.”
“What’s not warm and welcoming about zombies?” I asked with a laugh, and raised my hands like claws. “We only want to eat your brains.”
The door to the McMurphy opened and Liz walked in. She was dressed like a ballerina
with zombie makeup. Her curly dark hair was pulled up in a tight bun and she had makeup bite marks on her neck. Her leotard was dirty and torn and her tutu was ragged.
“Oh, my goodness, what happened to you?” Frances asked her.
“Nothing,” Liz said with a smile. “I’m a zombie and a prima ballerina. Two things I always wanted to grow up to be. Thanks for sponsoring us.”
“It was my pleasure,” Frances said. “Douglas pitched in half.”
“Thanks, Mr. Devaney,” I said. Mr. Devaney was a retired schoolteacher who I had brought on to be the handyman for the McMurphy. It hadn’t taken long before he and Frances had started secretly dating. In a whirlwind courtship, the two seventysomethings had gotten engaged and last month they had gotten married. You could see the joy on their faces every time they were in the room together. It made my heart fill with hope that someday I, too, might find the love of my life.
At the moment I was sort of single as my exboyfriend, Trent Jessop, was in Chicago for the next few months. My attraction to Officer Rex Manning was progressing slowly. The problem with having two handsome men competing for your attention was that sometimes they both backed off. I think they were giving me room to decide. Maybe I needed the room.
“Mal can go,” Liz said, her eyes lighting up. “They have zombie dog costumes.”
“That’s creative,” Frances said.
“I don’t have any doggy costumes,” I said with a frown. Feeling the latex on my face crinkle, I smoothed out my expression.
“We can give her a black T-shirt with white bones painted on it.”
“A black T-shirt?” I said. “We’d need a very small one. Mal only weighs twelve pounds.”
“Oh, a onesie will do,” Liz said with glee. “I’m going to run over to Doud’s and see if they have anything on the shelf.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said. We headed out the door.
The McMurphy is on Main Street and only a block or so from Doud’s, the oldest market on the island. It was dark outside already and the air smelled of falling leaves, horses, and the lingering scents of fudge and popcorn. People were beginning to gather. The costumes were equal parts terrifying and funny.
We pushed into Doud’s, the doorbells ringing behind us. Mary Emry, the cashier, was dressed as a zombie Minnie Mouse. She was waiting on a burly trucker guy with a cleaver buried in his skull. It almost looked realistic.
“This way,” Liz said, and drew me toward the back where they kept a few items of clothing.
“Maybe we should have checked out one of the T-shirt places,” I said as I eyed the sparse selection.
“No, this is perfect.” Liz pulled a tiny sundress out of the racks. “Now we need a little blood . . .”
“I have plenty of makeup.” I followed Liz through the store.
“This will do,” she said, grabbing some red decorator frosting. “Come on.” We approached Mary Emry.
Mary wasn’t much for talking, at least not to me. “What’s this for?”
“We’re going to dress up Allie’s dog, Mal,” Liz said, and rubbed her hands together. “With any luck the red frosting will stain the dress and the dog will lick it and get red on her face.”
“Disgusting,” Mary said.
“But effective,” I said. “Are you going to be in the Walking Red zombie walk?”
“Sure,” Mary said. “It’s for a good cause.”
I paid for the purchases and we walked out of Doud’s into the now crowded street. “I didn’t know there would be so many people here,” I said.
“It’s for a good cause,” Liz said. “My mom died of a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that,” I said.
“This crowd is crazy. Let’s go around and through the alley.” As we turned down the side street, I noticed that it too was filling up with zombies, as well as people not in costume who carried blankets and came out to watch all the craziness.
We were a half a block away from the McMurphy, just behind the Old Tyme Photo Shop, when I noticed that my kitty, Carmella, was also walking toward the hotel.
Carmella was a stray calico cat who adopted me and the McMurphy. She wasn’t a fan of Mal, who was a bit rambunctious yet as she was only seven months old, but Mella escaped the shenanigans by jumping up on the countertops. My cat was an indoor/outdoor cat. She loved to wander the back alleyways for an hour or so and then return to the McMurphy to beg treats from Frances and attention from the guests.
“Mella,” I called to her. “Here, kitty.” She walked over to me and I leaned down to pick her up.
“Wow, looks like you already have a costume started for Mella,” Liz said.
I looked at the cat. She had wet paws that were a distinct brownish-red color, and her face had remnants of the same hue. “What did you get into?” I asked her. She wiped her feet on my sweater. “Is that blood?”
“Eww,” Liz said. “She is coated with it.”
I glanced around. It was too dark to see anything in the half-lit alley. We got closer to the McMurphy and the sensor lights I had installed came on. “It certainly looks like blood,” I said, feeling a pang of concern, and held her up to the light. “Are you okay, Mella?” I asked. “Did you get hurt?”
She meowed at me as if indignant that I would think she would not win in a fight.
Liz ran her hands through Mella’s fur and examined her closely. “I don’t see any puncture wounds,” Liz said.
“That means someone else is hurt,” I said, and glanced back down the alley. It was darker now that the lights were on behind the McMurphy. “Let’s take her in. I’ll ask Frances to give her a bath and make sure it really isn’t her who is bleeding.”
“And while she’s doing that?” Liz asked.
“I’ll get a flashlight and we can check the alley. Whatever Mella got into may mean that someone has lost a lot of blood. We need to see if we can help.”
Just then there was a scream from the dark alley. I hugged Mella tight and turned toward the sound. “Oh, my gosh!” It was Sophie. “Thank goodness you’re out here.”
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“No,” Sophie said with trembling hands. She was dressed as a motorcycle gang zombie. “I think I found a dead man.”
“Where?” Liz asked, pulling out her phone.
“Just over there,” Sophie said, and pointed toward the dark corner of the building that backed up against the alley. We all hurried over to where she pointed. “I was coming around this way to avoid the crowd when I stumbled over something. I got out my flashlight and there was a crumpled body.”
“Are you sure it’s real?” Liz asked. “I mean, look at us, we’re dressed like the walking dead.” She waved her hand over her costumed self.
Sophie paused. “Do you think it might be a decoration? If so, it’s gruesome.”
We stopped in front of a dark lump. Liz and I pulled out our phones and opened the flashlight apps. In the twin beams the person looked like a man. His head appeared to be bashed in. He wore an old suitcoat with patched elbows and his arms were at odd angles. His legs were also at odd angles and one of his shoes was off. A large pool of dark liquid had seeped from his shirt and under his jacket.
“He looks real,” I said, and hunkered down.
“Are you going to touch him?” Sophie asked.
“Should you touch him?” Liz asked.
“It’s the only way to know if he’s real,” I said. “It’s what they tell you to do with first aid.” I touched his shoulder and gently shook it. “Sir, are you okay?”
His head rolled to the side, his jaw opened, and his tongue flopped out. I jerked back. Mella squirmed in my arms. I held her tight and put my fingers on his neck to feel for a pulse. He was stone cold and the blood was dark and had a surface on it.
“He’s either dead or he’s a very good Halloween effect.” I stood and looked at my friend. “If he is a Halloween effect, why hide him in a back alley?”
“I’m calling 9-1
-1,” Liz said, and dialed.
I petted a squirming Mella, who seemed only to want one thing—to leave. Whatever she had gotten on her was getting all over me, but I didn’t want to let her down. She might make things worse. Especially if this poor man was dead and she had already walked through the crime scene.
“Hi, Charlene, it’s Liz McElroy,” Liz said. “I’m in the alley behind Doud’s and the McMurphy. I think we might have stumbled across a crime scene.” She paused. “Yes, I know that the whole island is full of walking dead right now, but we think this one might actually be real.”
Sophie shivered and hugged herself. I rubbed her arm to comfort her.
“Who is ‘we’?” Liz said. “Sophie and Allie and I.” She looked at us. “Yes, Allie McMurphy.”
“I’ll call Rex,” I said.
“No, don’t call him,” Liz said. “Charlene is contacting him now. She started calling him the minute I said I was with you.” Liz covered the phone with her hand. “She said you are the grim reaper.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I said, and rolled my eyes. “I am not the grim reaper. Besides, Sophie found him.”
“I think Mella found him first,” Liz said, pointing to the dirty paws of my kitty. Mella had given up on her struggle and sort of hung in my arms, looking miffed.
I sighed. “My pets seem to have good noses for dead men.”
Rex and Officer Charles Brown walked into the alley carrying flashlights. They were an imposing pair. Rex was about five foot ten with an action-hero physique and shaved head—although you couldn’t tell because his hat covered it. I knew well that he had killer blue eyes ringed with black lashes and a kiss that could curl my toes. Officer Brown was tall and square with green eyes.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. There was something reassuring about the pair.
“Charlene said you had a situation,” Rex said.
Liz shone her flashlight on the dead man. “Sophie found him.”
Rex squatted down to feel for a pulse.
“We thought maybe it was fake,” I said. “But I followed first aid protocol and shook his shoulder and called out. Then I felt his neck and he was cold as ice.”