Deadly Chocolate Addiction (Death by Chocolate Book 6)

by Sally Berneathy

  “Sounds a little boring but we can probably pull it off.”

  “You set up the meet and I’ll be there.” Conversation over. He hung up.

  “Are you ready to leave?” Paula was as close to tapping her foot as I’d ever seen her.

  “I’m very ready.” I brought up voicemail as I walked through the kitchen doors.

  The last time I’d ignored Rick had been a disaster. I needed to know what he was up to.

  “Lindsay, this is important. When that box broke last night, we missed one of the bags of chocolate. I’m on my way over to get it.”

  I said a four letter word that would have got me sent to my room if I still lived at home.

  Paula halted halfway out the back door. “What’s wrong?”

  “Rick lost a bag of chocolate and now he’s coming over here to break in and dig around in our stuff looking for it.” I called his number.

  “Did you get my message?” he asked.

  “Last night you offered me free samples. Now you’ve lost one bag. We’ll call it my free sample. What’s the big deal?”

  “I didn’t realize the people we’re working with were so anal.” He gave a short burst of phony laughter. “I’m coming by to get that bag.”

  “It’s not here. You lost it somewhere else.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m on my way to check.”

  “Do not come over here. I’m looking for it now.” I laid the phone on the counter then got down on the floor in the area where the box had fallen apart. Paula handed me a pair of rubber gloves.

  “Hey, we just cleaned, remember?”

  “Those aren’t for the floor. They’re for the bag if you find it.”

  Paula’s a little OCD.

  I put on the gloves. “There it is, under the sink.” I retrieved the plastic bag and stood up, holding it at arm’s length. Somehow the contents didn’t look so tempting anymore.

  I picked up my cell phone. “Are you still there?”

  “Of course.”

  “I found your bag.”

  “Thank goodness! I’ll be right there.”

  “No! We’re leaving. Now. Walking out the door. I’m taking the bag home with me.”

  “I’m heading for your house.”

  Rick at my house?

  “I’m tired. I’m going straight to bed. I’ll leave the bag on the swing on my front porch. Do not ring my doorbell. Do not knock on my door. Do not pick the lock. Do not come inside. Just take your bag and leave.”

  “Of course. Thank you!”

  I hung up.

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Paula said.

  “Neither do I. Why is he so eager to get hold of one bag of cocoa?” I hefted the object Rick found so desirable and studied it closely. “I have ten times this much cocoa of the same quality. What makes this particular bag so special?”

  Chapter Ten

  I dropped the bag of cocoa on my porch swing as soon as I got home.

  Henry greeted me at the door and led me to his empty bowl in the kitchen. I fed him then let him out to patrol his territory.

  Rick lives about twenty miles away and would have to drive through rush hour traffic. That gave me a little time before I needed to hide. I thought about having another Coke and relaxing, but I’d already had quite a few in my effort to stay awake. I probably didn’t need any more caffeine if I planned to get caught up on my sleep. The afternoon was cool enough to justify a cup of hot chocolate. Of course, midday in August is cool enough to justify a cup of hot chocolate in my world.

  I sat down on the sofa with a cup of cocoa and a book. As soon as Henry came back from his ramblings, I’d give him some catnip and we’d go up to bed.

  The hot chocolate was warm and soothing, and the novel pulled me into the story, into a world of someone else’s problems and away from mine.

  I set my empty cup on the lamp table and leaned back. The print in the book blurred and I closed my eyes for just a minute.

  Maybe more than a minute.

  The sound of primitive jungle cat noises jolted me wide awake and upright in my chair.

  Henry.

  Probably meant Rick had arrived.

  I could wait for the noise to subside and assume Rick either got his bag and escaped or Henry took him down, in which event I’d find only scattered remains on the porch.

  Or I could go out and watch the fun.

  I put down my book to go watch the fun.

  My cell phone rang.

  Rick.

  I opened the door.

  He stood on the porch steps, cell phone pressed to his ear, eyes wide, a sheen of sweat glistening on his face.

  Henry stood in front of the swing, tail waving gracefully, hair along his back erect.

  Both looked at me.

  “Lindsay, I’m so glad you’re here!” That came from Rick, not Henry.

  Henry strolled casually over to stand beside me. I reached down to pet him.

  “Are you scared of a sweet little kitty?” I taunted. “He’s just protecting his property.”

  “That animal is possessed.” Rick moved toward the swing, his gaze never leaving Henry who growled deep in his throat. He wouldn’t attack until I gave him the command. Actually he wouldn’t attack until he decided to, but if his decision coincided with my command, it would be great fun.

  “Good afternoon, Rick.” Fred strolled casually over to join us.

  “Hi, Fred.” The perspiration on Rick’s face increased even though the evening was cool. He has the same opinion of Fred as he has of Henry. Possessed. Dangerous.

  I picked up Henry and pointed to the swing. “Get your bag and go.”

  Rick moved toward the swing. “What the hell?”

  I looked closer. Oops. Henry must have developed a sudden taste for chocolate. The plastic was shredded and the contents were spilling out.

  I was torn between delight at Rick’s distress and just a tiny bit of guilt that my cat had destroyed his property. Not really enough guilt to notice. “Don’t freak out,” I said. “I’ll replace it. They’ll never know. I’ve got some plastic bags and plenty of cocoa.”

  I set Henry on the porch and stepped over to the swing to retrieve the remnants.

  Moving with the speed and stealth of a cat, Fred came up behind me and grabbed my arm. “Don’t touch that.”

  Sometimes he goes a little overboard about germs. I suspect he showers wearing plastic gloves.

  “Rick, what is that?” Fred pointed to a small white corner of plastic almost hidden by the mess of cocoa.

  Rick swallowed. Actually, he gulped. “I don’t know.” The fear in his whispered words suggested he was lying.

  I narrowed my gaze and scowled at him. “You do.”

  He stepped away from the swing, moving backward toward the steps. “I don’t! I swear I don’t!”

  Fred took his arm, probably not as gently as he’d taken mine. “I don’t think you should leave just now. Lindsay, would you please go inside and get a brush? I want to dust off the cocoa and see what’s in that white bag.”

  I looked at Henry. He smiled and leapt off the porch into the yard. His work here was done. He could go play with the field mice and Fred’s elves.

  I brought Fred an old paint brush.

  He carefully swept away the remnants of cocoa from the small bag of white powder.

  I stared at it. “Rick, please tell me that bag contains baking powder.”

  He gulped again. “I don’t know.”

  Fred’s gaze was cold. “But you suspect.”

  Rick licked his lips and shook his head. “No, I don’t. Maybe. I’m not sure.” His normal cocky expression had changed to one of fear. “They got upset when they found we were a bag short. I even offered to go out and buy some cocoa to replace it, but they said they had to have that particular bag.”

  I lifted my hands and looked toward heaven for guidance. All I saw was the roof of my porch. It needed to be painted. “It’s bad enough you got into something like
this, but I cannot believe you got Robin’s little brother involved! He’s on probation! You’re going to be responsible for sending him to prison. How do you think that’s going to affect your relationship with her? My guess would be, not in a good way. What were you thinking?”

  Rick smiled nervously. “The boy couldn’t get a job. I was trying to help.”

  I clenched my fists to keep from hitting him. It would hurt my fists more than it would hurt him. “Help him? Not likely! It’s all about the deal, the money. That’s what you were thinking about! You’re going to prison and so is Clayton. Robin is going to hate you, and I don’t blame her!”

  Rick lifted his chin and made an effort to retrieve his arrogant mien. He failed. Fear and arrogance don’t mix well. “It was a business deal, that’s all. A client rented space for a new restaurant in the River Market area. I told him about your place and how successful you were. He offered to cut me in on his chocolate supplier so you could benefit. I was thinking of you, and this is how you show your gratitude. I should have known better than to try to help you.”

  “Yeah, you were going to help me right into jail!”

  “You never appreciate what I do for you!” He turned to leave, but Fred again took his arm.

  “Lindsay,” Fred said quietly, “please call Trent. Ask him to bring along an officer from drug enforcement.”

  “No, wait!” Rick struggled impotently to escape Fred’s casual grasp. “I can fix this. You don’t want to get the cops involved. We’ll put this back together.” He motioned toward the mess in my swing. “I’ll give it to those guys and they’ll be happy. The next time, I’ll tell them I can’t get involved. Problem solved.”

  “Lindsay, please call Trent.”

  I hit Trent’s speed dial.

  Trent answered.

  “Lindsay,” Rick pleaded, “you don’t want to see me go to prison.”

  “Hey, Trent,” I said, “we’ve got a drug dealer on my front porch with enough evidence to send him to prison for the rest of his life.”

  I was exaggerating Rick’s potential prison sentence, but the terror on his face told me he believed it.

  

  We were still standing on the porch when Trent got there. Fred didn’t want to leave Rick or the evidence alone. I suspected he was afraid Henry would return, shred the small packet, and get high. If he’d wanted to do that, he’d have already done it. Organic catnip is Henry’s drug of choice, not some white powder.

  Trent and a short, fierce looking guy came up the walk. He introduced the newcomer as Detective Ryan Morton.

  “Lindsay,” Trent said, “why don’t you and Fred go inside and have a chocolate chip cookie?”

  No hug, no kiss, no Glad to see you.

  “Are you kidding? I don’t want to miss this.”

  Fred took my arm again. “I’d really like to have a chocolate chip cookie.”

  “Traitor.”

  We went inside. I brought out the cookies and two glasses of box wine.

  Fred took a bite of cookie but looked askance at the wine.

  I sipped mine. “How did you get here?”

  “I walked. You saw me.”

  “No, I mean, how did you know something was going on over here?”

  “The entire neighborhood heard Henry. That cat has great vocal range.”

  I smiled proudly and drank more wine.

  Fred took a sip of his and didn’t make a face. He has impeccable manners.

  Trent came in. He looked disheveled, angry, and tired. “Ryan’s taking Rick to the station. They’ll bring in Clayton and try to work out some kind of deal where the two of them will lead us to the suppliers and the people who were going to sell the drugs. Rick swears neither he nor Clayton knew it was anything other than a slightly shady deal with chocolate seconds.”

  I bit my lip and refrained from saying that Rick lies as easily and as often as other people breathe.

  Fred stood. “I’m heading home since you have things under control, Trent. Thank you for the cookies, Lindsay.” Even his impeccable manners did not extend to thanking me for the wine.

  I walked him to the door and locked it behind him then got Trent a glass of wine.

  He shook his head. “I have to drive home.”

  “Take it. You’re going to need it.”

  “I already need it.” He accepted the glass and sat on the sofa.

  I settled into my chair across from him. “Your ex-wife is sleeping with your friend, Gary Durant.”

  He halted with his glass halfway to his mouth. “What?”

  “I think she’s on a mission to sleep with all your friends. You’d better warn Lawson.”

  “Why do you think she’s sleeping with Gary?”

  “She came here to yell at me last night and I followed her to his house.”

  I had his attention.

  He took a drink of wine and frowned. My box wine or the news about his ex-wife? “Kathy came here? To your house? Why?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him about Corey but realized if I did, I’d have to admit that Fred and I had talked to him. “She warned me she was going to take you away from me.”

  Tell me that would be impossible!

  “That’s crazy. She’s just trying to cause trouble.”

  “Off the top of my head, I’d say she’s succeeding.”

  “I’m going to warn her to stay away from you, and you need to stay away from her.”

  That wasn’t exactly the response I’d been hoping for.

  He rose and came over to me, pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me. That was getting closer to the appropriate response.

  The long, delicious kiss that followed took some of the sting from his order.

  “Want me to stay a while?” he murmured against my hair.

  “I hate to turn down an offer like that, but I’m totally exhausted. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “We’ll make up for it this weekend.”

  I liked the sound of that.

  We walked out onto the porch together, shared another kiss, and he left.

  I opened the door to go back inside. Henry darted onto the porch and through the door.

  “You better not be bringing a mouse or an elf into the house!” I shouted after him.

  He ignored me and ran upstairs.

  He was already in bed when I got there.

  Good idea.

  

  I was running through a jungle, tripping over vines and trees. A huge lion with Rick’s features roared and screamed close behind me, nipping at my heels.

  I turned and fired a gun at him.

  The bullets melted in mid-air.

  He kept coming, his horrible shrieks increasing in volume.

  I ran as fast as I could…and woke with a gasp.

  I was dreaming.

  But the lion was real. I could hear him downstairs, screaming his horrible jungle sounds.

  Henry.

  Was Rick back?

  I slid out of bed. I was going to kill him. Fred would help me hide the body.

  I grabbed my cell phone and hit Fred’s number as I raced downstairs.

  The front door was closed.

  The sounds were coming from the kitchen.

  Rick must be at the back door, probably picking the lock with his little gadget.

  I would beat him severely with my marble rolling pin before I killed him.

  Fred answered the phone.

  “Rick’s here again! Bring the machine gun and be sure it’s loaded!”

  I charged into the kitchen.

  Rick, clad in a black ski mask, black sweat shirt, and black pants, was trying to get out the back door while battling the half inch fangs and claws of my angry twenty-three pound cat.

  I grabbed my rolling pin and held it aloft. “I’m going to kill you!”

  He got out before I could whack him over the head.

  Henry morphed into a house cat again. He looked m
e over carefully as if to be sure I was okay, licked his paws, and sauntered toward the stairs.

  I surveyed the kitchen. Henry had done some damage. Bits of black were everywhere, some tinted with red. I smiled.

  The back door opened and Fred stepped inside.

  I frowned. “Where’s your machine gun?”

  “You appear to be unharmed.”

  I nodded. “I ran him off. You’re barefoot. I’m flattered you came so fast you didn’t even dress. Those are cool pajamas.” White with a black belt. Pristine except for a red splotch on the wrist of one sleeve.

  “These are not pajamas. This is my gi. I was doing a karate workout. And your intruder wasn’t Rick. He’s still down at the police station.”

  The intruder wasn’t Rick.

  I’d just threatened a stranger with my rolling pin.

  What if the man had a gun?

  Fred once told me, Never bring a rolling pin to a gun fight.

  “We need to catch him!” I started toward the door.

  Fred held out a restraining arm, the one with red on the sleeve. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  I gulped as I realized what that red stain might be. “You caught him? That was pretty fast, even for you.”

  “He appears to be dead.”

  “You—” I swallowed— “killed him?” I had often wondered if Fred was a black ops agent who killed when the government told him to. But that was all fantasy. I was shocked to think he had actually killed someone. And in my back yard.

  “I didn’t kill him. He was already dead when I came up. I checked for a pulse and didn’t find one.” He lifted the sleeve with the red stain. “Come out and verify that this man was your intruder. Then you should probably call Trent again.”

  Fred held the door. I walked through and halted on the top step.

  A large man lay crumpled face down in the middle of my patio. That man wore a brown jacket and tan slacks, not a black sweatshirt or a ski mask. Dark liquid puddled around his neck and stomach. A gun lay beside his outstretched arm.

  “Did you change his clothes?” I asked hopefully.

  “What? No. Are you saying this isn’t your intruder?”

  I shook my head. “No. The man in my house was wearing black.”

  Fred flipped on the porch light.