In Cold Chocolate

by Dorothy St. James

  “Sorry, Art. Our Penn was asking around about Cassidy yesterday at the Low Tide. Heard her myself,” the woman next to Ethel said. “Wanted to know who else in town wanted him dead.”

  Ethel’s thin gray brows rose as she turned her gaze back in my direction. “It would have been faster to ask who didn’t want him dead.”

  “True. True,” Arthur Jenkins agreed. “He liked to make life … painful … for the people around him. Don’t know anyone who liked him.”

  “Jody liked him,” I said as I returned to the counter to fill a golden box with chocolates for Arthur. Every Sunday, he bought a dozen chocolate covered cherries for his new wife.

  “Look how well that turned out,” Arthur Jenkins replied. Many in the shop nodded in agreement.

  “Other women liked him,” I forced from behind clenched teeth. Florence had liked him. I didn’t say that aloud. But I did say, “A woman dressed in a flowered muumuu was there when he died. She was quite inconsolable with grief.”

  Since I figured pretty much everyone in the room believed I was crazy for trying to clear Jody of the murder charge, I decided it was high time these gossips started doing something other than talking about the degree of my crazy. I wasn’t crazy. And there was no reason why the gossips shouldn’t be using their power of gab for good.

  “Ethel, you wouldn’t happen to know how I can contact her, would you?” I asked as casually as I could manage as I tied a red ribbon around Arthur Jenkins’ golden chocolate box. “She was dressed in a showy turquoise muumuu with giant flowers. I’d like to talk with her and find out what she saw that night. She might be the only one who actually saw Cassidy getting shot. But she ran off before anyone could talk to her. Not even the police know who she is.”

  Ethel appeared to be completely taken aback that there could be a missing eyewitness. She pushed back her chair and managed to get to her feet in record time. She followed me across the shop, peppering me with questions about what the woman looked like, her age, her height.

  I shook my head. “I was hoping you and your friends could help ferret out her identity. It was dark that night, and I don’t know much about her.” I figured the less they knew about this mystery woman the more they’d be itching to find her.

  “Well, someone must know something,” Ethel exclaimed as she clapped her slightly crooked hands together. Determination brightened her eyes. “Don’t waste your time asking around about Cassidy’s victims, Penn. I’ll find your mystery woman for you. Before the sun sets, you’ll be talking with her.”

  I placed my hand on her frail shoulder and started to thank her. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind she’d do as she said. But before I could utter much more than a quick thanks, Althea ran into the shop. Dark circles ringed her eyes, eyes that held a world of rage in them. Her dress, the same dress she’d been wearing the night before, was wrinkled and sandy. And she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

  “Go get Bertie. She’s in the back,” I told Ethel before I rushed to Althea’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What in the world happened to you?”

  “Another nest,” her words landed like lead weights. “It’s empty. I’ve been checking them all. And I found another nest that is empty.”

  I tried to direct her toward the closest available chair, but she refused to sit down. “I’m going to kill whoever is doing this. I’m going to kill them,” she kept repeating.

  “Okay,” I said and then hurried over to the coffee bar. I fixed Althea a large cappuccino with two healthy shots of dark chocolate. I pushed the drink into her sandy hands.

  “Do you think it’s the coyotes or the raccoons?” Ethel asked.

  Holding the cup with both hands, Althea gingerly took a sip. “Does someone on the island think I’m an idiot? This never happened before I took charge of the turtle watch program this year. And I’m not going to let them get away with it.”

  “What does she mean?” Ethel asked me.

  “I mean someone is stealing the eggs,” Althea nearly shouted.

  Everyone in the shop gasped.

  “I heard it was wild animals,” Ethel murmured.

  Althea gave her head a hard shake. A bit of her coffee splashed onto the floor. “Wild animals would make a mess of a nest. No, whoever did this was careful and covered their tracks. Someone is poaching the sea turtle eggs right under my nose. And I’m going to kill whoever is doing it.”

  “What you need is a good night’s sleep,” Bertie said as she hurried over to her daughter. “You can’t stay up all night monitoring turtle nests and expect to have a clear head in the morning. You need to take care of yourself.”

  “But the turtles—” Althea protested.

  “There has to be a way to protect the nests.” I was starting to understand why Jody had started carrying a gun with her to the turtle nests at night. As much as I abhorred guns and violence, firepower might be the only way to keep the sea turtle eggs safe.

  “Nothing short of violence will stop those—” Althea started to say.

  “That’s because you’re bone tired,” Bertie cut her daughter’s tirade short. She hugged Althea tightly. “You need to get some rest. You can take my bed upstairs, if you’d like. Troubadour would love the company. Once you’ve slept a few hours you’ll be able to figure out how to go forward.”

  “I suppose you’re right, Mama.” Althea stifled a yawn. “I am mighty tired right now. So tired, I can barely hold a coherent thought in my head.”

  Bertie took the barely touched coffee from Althea’s hands and set it on a nearby table. She then hooked her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and led her out the back way. “I won’t be but a minute. I’m going to take her up to my room.”

  “Take as long as you need,” I said.

  This wasn’t the first time I had to handle the shop by myself when it was crowded with hungry customers. But that didn’t mean it was easy. Bertie couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes. But by the time she returned, I would have sworn I’d been running from table to table for at least four hours. My feet hurt. My stomach rumbled with hunger. And I was starting to get a headache from having to constantly move from the register to the display case to the tables and to the coffee area. All of these places seemed to require constant attention that morning. We needed to hire more help.

  “Thank goodness,” I said with a huge sigh of relief when Bertie finally returned. Her crisp white apron was neatly tied. She headed straight to the cash register as if ready and eager to take charge. “How’s Althea?”

  “Sleeping.” Her brows drew together as she stared into the display case where we kept all of the truffles and bonbons and dipped chocolates that were available for sale. “Where are the salted sea turtles?”

  “On the tray,” I said as I scrubbed a table while three customers with coffees in hand waited for me to finish. “I sold a handful of them while you were gone.”

  “The case isn’t locked,” she said. I could hear Bertie sliding the panel open. “I thought we were going to keep this locked.”

  “We are. I did,” I called over my shoulder. I finished wiping off the table and straightened. “I know I locked it.”

  When I turned and peered into the display case, I saw something I couldn’t believe I was seeing. The tray where we’d placed nearly two dozen salted sea turtles was empty. But how could that be? How could they go missing when I was working right there? How could they go missing when there was a room filled with customers who would notice someone stealing the entire batch of chocolates? How could they go missing from a locked case?

  “Someone took them.” I rubbed the back of my suddenly tense neck as I stared at the empty tray. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. All I knew was that the chocolate turtles were gone.

  “Again,” Bertie said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Let me get this straight,” Granny Mae, who wasn’t actually my grandmother, said. I pressed the cell phone tighter to my ear. Her voice, the comforting voi
ce you’d expect from a loving grandmother, came out of the receiver and seemed to wrap around me like a verbal hug. Oh, how I missed her. “Empty sea turtle nests, stolen chocolate turtles, a murdered man everyone wanted dead, and threatening letters against you?”

  “Don’t forget the bulletproof case against Jody I intend to disprove.” I walked across my apartment’s living room, wishing Granny Mae was here in Camellia Beach. Stella followed.

  “How could I forget that? A noble cause if ever I’ve heard of one. If she went to prison for murder, you’d get her off your proverbial back. It’d make your life easier. Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked in that no-nonsense way she had about her.

  “I have to,” I said as I continued to pace. Stella continued to follow along. “I told Gavin I would.”

  “Hence the noble cause. I’m proud of you, Penn.”

  My cheeks warmed at her words of praise. Her opinion meant the world to me. But that wasn’t why I’d called and told her all about the strange happenings on the island. I’d called because she had the sharpest mind of anyone I knew. She held doctoral degrees in biochemistry, astrophysics, and journalism, and taught at the University of Wisconsin, and loved chocolate nearly as much as I did.

  I stood still as I gave her a detailed accounting of my long list of suspects. Periodically, her earrings clanked against the phone, a sign that she was nodding. Then after taking a long steady breath, I plunged ahead with the one question I really shouldn’t have been worrying about, but was, “One of those two threatening notes I’d gotten today said I had a pointy nose. Do you think my nose is pointy?”

  I don’t know why the criticism had stung so badly. It wasn’t as if I knew the note writer. And it wasn’t as if his or her opinion should matter anyhow. The other note wrapped around the stuffed dog’s neck had threatened my freaking life. And all I could do was obsess about the pointy nose jab in the first note. I’d let it distract me from wondering who’d sent the note. I’d let it distract me from thinking about why I received not one but two notes.

  Heck, I was thinking about it even now. There had to be something wrong with me.

  “Your nose is just right for your face,” she said, echoing what Harley had told me.

  “What’s wrong with my face?” I demanded. Stella batted my leg with her tiny paw. Without thinking, I reached down and scratched her behind her ears. Surprisingly, she didn’t try to nip at me. She rubbed her head against my hand, prodding me to keep petting her.

  “Penn, you know you’re asking the wrong questions.”

  “I know.” I looked down at Stella. Why was she being so friendly? Was she sick? “I know, but—”

  Granny Mae didn’t let me even start to think about my body’s imperfections. “You’re a lovely woman with striking features. Don’t let some anonymous nut with a pen and a pad of yellow sticky notes get under your skin. Focus, will you? The threats mean you’ve been asking questions whose answers could prove damaging for someone on the island. What you need to do, and do fast, is assure everyone that you’re no gossip. You need to let everyone know that you’re not out to dig up painful secrets. You’re only looking to catch a killer.”

  “Yes, why didn’t I think of that? My reassurances should keep future threats from being lobbed my way.” I offered Stella a small piece of bacon as a reward for her good behavior. She took it politely from my hand without also chomping my fingers like she usually would do.

  “Reassuring the people who Cassidy has hurt that you have no plans to expose them will also serve another purpose. If you receive more threatening notes you’ll know that your questions are leading you to Cassidy’s killer instead of one of his secret lovers.”

  “Do you agree with me when I say Jody didn’t kill anyone?” I held my breath and waited for her to share her thoughts. Stella batted my leg again.

  Granny Mae took her time before answering. While I waited, I scratched behind Stella’s silky ears some more. Finally Granny Mae said, “I believe in you, Penn. That’s all I need to know.”

  I spent the next half hour talking with Granny Mae, going over everything I’d heard and seen. Stella stayed by my side the entire time. She even sat on the sofa with me and put her head in my lap while Granny Mae and I discussed in great detailed who Muumuu Woman might be.

  When we’d finished, Granny Mae suggested I stop looking for the mystery woman. “Let her come to you. Instead, focus on the others on your suspect list.” She thought Fletcher Grimbal (AKA Mr. Slap Fight) sounded like the leading contender for Cassidy’s murderer. “He already has a record of violent behavior.”

  “It was a silly slap fight,” I reminded her. “It wasn’t as if he’d pulled a gun on Cassidy.”

  “Even so, shortly after you start asking around town about him, you get a threatening note. In my mind, that moves him to the top of my list for potential murderer.”

  She had a point. “I have plans to talk with him tomorrow.”

  “Good. Good. Just be sure you’re not meeting with him alone.”

  “It’s going to be in a public space, and I’ll have a friend with me,” I assured her.

  “That’s my girl,” she said, which made me smile.

  “I’m glad I called you,” I said and was about to say goodbye when she spoke.

  “Penn?” Her earrings clanked against the phone again. “Are you sure there’s nothing else going on that you want to tell me? Something that’s upsetting you?”

  Something like a heated kiss? Or a threat that I might lose the store? “I don’t know what you could—”

  “You’re a smart girl. You didn’t need me to talk you through any of what we just discussed. You would have come up with all of it on your own. So tell me what is really going on. What’s happening that has upset you so much that you needed to touch base with me?”

  “Being told my nose is pointy sure felt like a crisis,” I joked. “Maybe that’s why I called.”

  “Seriously, Penn, what’s going on?”

  “I love you. Do I really need a crisis to call?”

  “No, of course you don’t. I keep telling you that. But you always wait until you’re in the middle of a personal crisis before you call me. You have for years.”

  “That’s not true. I called you on your birthday two weeks ago.”

  “No, Penn. I called you.”

  “I was going to call you. You simply beat me to it.” Stella jumped off the sofa and ran to the door.

  “Now don’t panic, Penn. I’m not upset. But if there’s something else that was bothering you, you can talk with me about it.”

  “Something bigger than murder?” Stella started barking. It sounded as if she was agreeing with me. I told her to hush and tossed her some more treats.

  “No, honey,” Granny Mae said, “something more personal.”

  “You’re usually right, Granny Mae, but not this time. There’s nothing else to say.” Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

  Just that ugly rumor going around about my losing the shop. Just that I kissed Harley while standing in the middle of the street this morning. And now I don’t know what I’m going to do about him. “You don’t think I have a pointy nose, right?”

  Granny Mae chuckled. Her rumbly laughter rolled low and deep and sounded nearly identical to how Bertie laughed. “Your nose is fine. Now, get off the phone with me so I can call that capable police detective working on the case and tell him to watch out for you.”

  “I’m going to call you in a couple of days,” I promised just as Stella started barking again. I had to nearly shout, “Just to chat.”

  “You do that, Penn.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “I swear I will. I’m going to…” What I was going to say vanished. Stella had started digging at the door with both paws. And her barking had turned more intense.

  I peeked out the window to see what had upset my little pup and spotted Detective Gibbons walking toward my apartment with his hands on his hips.

  “I’ve got to go,�
�� I said. I hoped Gibbons had some good news for me. “And I will call you in a few days.”

  I hit end and thrust my phone into my pocket. A moment before the detective knocked on my door, I scooped Stella into my arms. The knocking only caused Stella to bark even more wildly. I swung the door open. “Detective, what can I do for you?” I shouted over the racket.

  “Hank contacted me,” he had to shout back. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. His brows were crinkled with concern.

  “Chief Byrd?” My brows crinkled too. Not with concern, but with confusion. “Wait a minute.”

  Lidia had told me that holding Stella only made her more nervous. “Let me get her leash.” I followed Lidia’s instructions on how to handle Stella. I hooked the leash to her collar and instructed her to sit. More treats were given as soon as her cute little tail touched the ground. Since she was chewing, she was no longer barking, so I praised her and gave her a few more treats.

  “Wow,” the detective said. “That’s quite an improvement.”

  “Lidia has been helping me train her.” I told Stella to stay and quickly tossed her another couple of treats before she could stand up. Lidia was right. Timing was everything with the training.

  “As I was saying, Hank called to tell me—”

  “He told he wasn’t going to tell anyone about the threats.”

  “Threats?” Gibbons dragged out the word. He tilted his head to one side. “What threats?”

  I tossed Stella another piece of bacon since she was still sitting and not barking. It also helped buy me time to gather my thoughts.

  “Oh. He didn’t tell you.” I waved my hand as if my mentioning it was a mistake. “Of course he didn’t tell you. They were nothing. Jokes, really. What are you talking about?”

  “Penn, I would have hoped that you’d learned by now that you can’t ignore threats of any kind.” He sounded like a stern father. Not like my father, who also sounded stern, but like a father who would stand against the world for his child, even if the child is behaving foolishly.