Hot Fudge Fraud

by Anisa Claire West

  Although she hadn’t told Keith or even her father, Melanie had another powerful motivating factor to explore Ireland. She wanted to find her mother’s birth parents. Her mother had never spoken of her birth parents because she knew nothing about them. Maureen Bradley’s adoptive parents had died in a car crash before she met Scott, so Melanie had never known either set of grandparents. Maybe it was naïve to dream of a family reunion at this stage in life, but Melanie dared anyway. Vowing to return to Ireland, she blew a kiss to Dublin before sliding back into the hotel room.

  Keith was just hanging up the phone. “Okay. We’ve got a flight that leaves for Washington, DC in 3 hours, so let’s get ourselves to the airport.”

  “That’s great,” Melanie replied in a monotone. Meeting Keith’s eyes for the first time since her father’s fateful call, she winced at the pain she saw there. “I’m sorry this trip hasn’t worked out. I know you really wanted to make this special. And it was.”

  “No it wasn’t. It was a calamity from the first 20 minutes of the flight! I really blew it.” He kicked the bedframe in frustration.

  “You did not blow it! The flights were tough, but once we got here, everything was perfect. Truly perfect,” she insisted, cradling his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault that some evil person set my shop on fire.”

  “I’m still hoping it wasn’t some evil person,” Keith said under his breath.

  “Well I’m sure of it! I feel it in my bones, Keith. Someone is out to get me.” Pausing to reflect on any potential enemy, Lynne’s harsh face popped into her mind. “You know, I don’t think my roommates like me very much. Especially Lynne. Remember how rude she was when you were at the house?”

  “Yeah, I do remember. She acted like a spoiled brat. But that doesn’t mean she would set your business on fire! Think logically, Melanie,” he urged, pointing to the time on his cell phone clock. “We’ve gotta go catch a cab to make it to the airport. Customs can be a bear to get through.”

  Wordlessly, Melanie followed him out of the hotel suite. Tempted to look behind her one more time and indulge in an eyeful of the glamorous room, she instead squared her shoulders and walked straight ahead. In her mind’s eye, all she could envision was a rebuilt Hot Fudge Fancy and a faceless Irish grandmother welcoming her into her home.

  Chapter 8

  On the flights home to South Carolina, Melanie felt neither nervous nor scared. She only felt a numbness paralyzing her body and spirit. Making small talk with Keith was difficult, and it was hard to believe that they had so recently shared intense intimacy. Side by side on the plane, they seemed like total strangers. All Melanie could concentrate on was surveying the damage of her ice cream parlor and identifying the perpetrator of the crime.

  “I’m going to press charges when I find out who did this,” she mumbled angrily, clenching her jaw.

  As the plane touched down at Charleston International Airport, Keith glanced at her stiffly, unsure of what to say. Everything he had said so far seemed to be misinterpreted, and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her misplaced wrath anymore.

  Tersely, he responded, “I hope you do press charges if this was the work of an arsonist.”

  “Oh I will!” Melanie repeated emphatically. “Opening an ice cream shop has been my dream since I was 10 years old.”

  “Really? You didn’t tell me that,” Keith commented with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well, we haven’t had that much time to get to know each other,” Melanie answered plainly.

  “Not yet. But I want to make sure we change that, Melanie. I know right now you have a lot on your mind with the fire investigation, but I’m going to be there for you. In fact, I’ll go with you right now to King Street if you want.”

  “Don’t you need to get back to work?”

  He grinned and pointed out, “I’m supposed to be enjoying a week long vacation in Ireland right now. I don’t have to go to work until next week.”

  Melanie groaned. “Don’t remind me. I wish we were still in Ireland. I feel like that whole trip went by like a flash of lightning.”

  Keith sighed heavily. “Well that’s because it did. Come on, let’s get the hell off this stuffy plane and I’ll drive you to King Street.”

  Grimly, Melanie navigated the labyrinth of the airport parking garage with Keith at her side. She vowed not to cry when she saw the wreckage. Her emotions could wait to be released until she was back at her father’s house holed up in her childhood room. For now, she would remain as emotionless as a statue.

  Keith turned the radio on to a smooth jazz station, and the rhythms lulled Melanie’s nerves. Grateful that he was wasn’t trying to broach a conversation, she reclined in the chair and steadied herself for the horrifying sight that awaited her.

  The sun had set in Charleston, but the air was still drenched in oppressive humidity. Melanie fanned herself absently, thinking how exhausted her father must be from the ordeal. What a great start to his retirement, she thought bitterly. I was worried about all the stress in his life, and now he’s probably more stressed than ever thanks to me.

  Expertly, Keith rounded the bend onto King Street. Immediately, the signs of destruction were evident. The fire scene had been cordoned off with police tape, and an assortment of law enforcement personnel was combing the street for clues. Woodenly, Melanie trudged outside as soon as Keith jerked the vehicle into park. She spotted her father in an intense conversation with a female investigator.

  Mr. Bradley glanced up for a moment as his eyes fogged with emotion at the sight of his daughter. Melanie hurried to her father with Keith following closely behind. Sunny leapt up and clobbered Melanie as though he hadn’t seen his owner for a hundred years. Distractedly, she pet the dog while letting her father envelop her in a bear hug.

  “I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he whispered into her ear.

  She simply nodded and turned her attention to the investigator. Reaching out for a handshake, Melanie introduced herself. “I’m Melanie Bradley, the owner of Hot Fudge Fancy.”

  “Hello Miss Bradley. I’m Detective Stacey Graydon, lead investigator in the fire. I’ve been speaking with your father all day. He’s told me everything he knows regarding the ice cream parlor and what could have caused the inferno. I’d like to have a few words with you before the police take your formal statement later at the station.”

  Polished and professional, Stacey Graydon looked to be somewhere in her early fifties, and immediately calmed Melanie…except for the part about formal questioning at the police station.

  “Why do I need to be questioned? Am I a suspect in an investigation of my own shop?” Melanie asked briskly.

  “It’s just a legal formality. Sometimes store owners do set their own businesses on fire with the hope of obtaining an insurance payout. I’m not accusing you of anything, please understand, Miss Bradley. I’m just following police protocol since we are treating this as an arson crime scene.” Her words were sharp but her expression soft as she apprised Melanie of the next steps in the investigation. “As I understand from your father, you’ve just gotten off a plane from Europe. So we’ll try to wrap up the initial questioning phase as quickly as possible.”

  Fighting her inclination to hunch her shoulders and crumble, Melanie stood up a bit straighter and looked Detective Graydon directly in the eyes. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

  “Good. Let’s get started.”

  For the next half hour, the detective grilled Melanie to rule her out for possible motives other than raking in a hefty insurance settlement. It was apparent to the seasoned investigator that Melanie Bradley was a straight shooter and clearly devastated about the desecration of her new business. In her mind, Stacey Graydon ruled the young woman out as the culprit but continued a harsh line of questioning to cover all her bases.

  “I think you’ve answered enough questions for now, Miss Bradley. Now let me show you what we’ve found so far with regard to evidence.” Detective Graydon produced a hermetica
lly sealed bag from her pocket. Inside the bag was a single tube of lipstick.

  “Whose lipstick is that?” Melanie asked.

  “That’s what we need to find out. The lipstick was found in the rubble on the sidewalk. The shade is Muted Iridescent Beige. Not a very popular color for lipstick. Do you know anyone who wears this hue?” Slipping a glove onto her hand to keep the evidence fingerprint-free, the detective opened the bag and twisted the tube of lipstick open to demonstrate.

  The shade was mucky brown with glitter undertones, a hue Melanie wouldn’t be caught dead in. “I don’t know anyone who would wear that color,” she said distastefully, thinking of Chloe and her pink lip gloss, and Lynne with her matte red shade.

  Keith shifted his weight from side to side, but Melanie didn’t notice as she fine tuned her attention onto the clues the detective was revealing. From a larger bag, Detective Graydon removed a security camera. “This is the camera that was affixed to the outside of your store. Interestingly, the arsonist didn’t take the actual camera. Perhaps it was fastened too tightly to the top of the door.”

  Melanie unraveled the details out loud. “And if the arsonist was a woman, then she wouldn’t be strong enough to pull the camera off from its mounted position.”

  “Exactly. One of the firemen had to remove the camera with a wrench. And here’s what he found.” Detective Graydon slid the camera open, revealing nothing but empty space inside.

  “The memory card is gone!” Melanie exclaimed.

  “Yes. So whoever committed this crime was shrewd enough to realize that she would be caught on security footage. But she apparently wasn’t smart enough to realize that we could still trace the contents of the camera,” Detective Graydon said with satisfaction.

  “How’s that?” Mr. Bradley, completely uninitiated into the magic of technology, was befuddled.

  “You see, Mr. Bradley, the camera also has a hard drive. Buried in that hard drive is footage of every person who has ever passed through the doors of Hot Fudge Fancy. We just need to send the camera to the crime lab, and our analysts will be able to unlock all the secrets on that hard drive,” Detective Graydon explained.

  Mr. Bradley gave a low whistle. “Very impressive. Well I hope that crime lab gets on it right away and finds out who did this to my little girl’s store!” Turning to Melanie, he apologized, “Sorry, honey. I know you’re not a little girl and you hate it when I say that. I’m just so upset.”

  Detective Graydon smiled gently. “She’s your little girl, Mr. Bradley. Listen, I’ve got three grown sons of my own, so believe me, I understand. They’re always kids in our eyes.” She exchanged a meaningful look with Scott Bradley as his eyes crinkled in appreciation.

  Keith, who had been anxiously standing by until now, abruptly spoke up. “Um, I think I may have some information about the perpetrator of this crime.”

  Melanie gasped audibly at Keith’s statement. She demanded, “Who is it? That woman who wouldn’t stop texting you when we were in Ireland? Who is she anyway?”

  Detective Graydon raised her eyebrows with interest as Scott Bradley’s features contorted in disappointment at the young man’s implied duplicity. Keith struggled to find the words to explain to Melanie that he hadn’t meant to keep any vital information from her. He had never dreamed that his ex-girlfriend, as mentally unstable as she was, could be capable of such a horrific crime. Melanie tapped her foot impatiently on the sidewalk, glaring at him as he squirmed under her gaze.

  “My ex-girlfriend is Daisy Delaney,” he said quietly. “She owns Daisy’s Frozen Delights down the street.”

  Chapter 9

  Melanie’s heart ached as Keith revealed the identity of his ex-girlfriend. How could he withhold such crucial information from her? She stood by with a stone cold countenance even though she was inwardly broiling with fury.

  “Go on, please,” Detective Graydon prodded, already piecing together a couplet of motives for arson: professional and romantic competition.

  “We broke up a long time ago, but she’s been stalking me by phone and internet ever since. Her messages had quieted down for a while until…”

  “Until Keith took me on vacation to Ireland!” Melanie finished for him in an exasperated hiss.

  “Is that correct?” Detective Graydon asked.

  “Yes, but I never thought in a million years that she could be capable of something like this. And the only reason I feel now that it could be Daisy is the color of that lipstick. Her lips were always that shade,” he confessed as Melanie winced at how he could recall such an intimate detail.

  “So it appears we have not only a professional rivalry on our hands, but also a love triangle of sorts,” Detective Graydon surmised.

  “You got the first part right. But there’s no love triangle,” Melanie countered, avoiding Keith’s stricken eyes.

  “Either way, Daisy Delaney is at least a person of interest at this point. Where does she live?” The Detective typed furiously into her phone as Keith revealed the address. “That’s over by Rainbow Row, isn’t it? On the Battery? She must come from a very wealthy family to have a prestigious address like that.”

  “She does,” Keith confirmed glumly. “Her parents are tenth generation Charlestonians and very proud of it.”

  Melanie performed a few mental calculations before proclaiming, “Now it all makes sense! Why you had such a cold reaction when I told you I owned an ice cream parlor! You were worried that if Daisy found out, it might stir up trouble. And the way you reacted when I suggested having dinner at Magnolia on our first date! You were worried that you might run into Daisy because she lives right down the street.”

  “You’re quite the sleuth,” Detective Graydon remarked seriously. “I am curious to know, however, the informant who told Daisy about your new relationship with Keith.”

  Melanie thought for no longer than a split second before the answer dawned on her. “Lynne,” she whispered bitterly. “My housemate, Lynne, works for Daisy’s frozen yogurt place! Lynne was there when Keith picked me up to go to the airport for our trip to Ireland. She said she recognized his face from some real estate listings in the newspaper.”

  Detective Graydon nodded in understanding. “The fragments are coming together. Now we just have to figure out how to go about questioning Daisy Delaney. If she is as wealthy as her riverfront address would imply, then she could be a flight risk. So whatever anyone does, make no contact with Daisy. Don’t give her any reason to be suspicious until the investigators can secure an arrest warrant if indeed she is the arsonist.”

  “Well the surveillance camera will tell us everything, won’t it?” Melanie asked hopefully.

  “Yes,” Mr. Bradley interjected. “Hopefully, the camera will show that little hellcat in action!”

  “Hopefully. But we have other sources of evidence as well. Don’t forget about the tube of lipstick. It will be very easy to collect DNA from such a personal item. And if the security camera shows Miss Delaney dropping the lipstick out of her purse near Hot Fudge Fancy in the moments preceding the blaze, it will be a piece of cake to get that arrest warrant. But I don’t want to rely only on that evidence.” Detective Graydon sighed thoughtfully and pushed a wisp of platinum hair away from her forehead.

  “What else will we need?” Melanie inquired eagerly.

  “Ideally, a confession. That’s why I’d like you to scratch everything I just said about not getting in touch with Daisy. I have a better idea. It’s a risky plan, but I think it will work. And Melanie, you’re going to play the starring role.”

  *****

  Melanie walked to her father’s truck with Sunny happily prancing about at her feet oblivious to the chaos that was still unfolding. Keith called out to her but she made no reply. She couldn’t deal with his apologies and explanations right now. There were too many more pertinent tasks to attend to. First, she had to collect her belongings from the house in Isle of Palms. Then, her father could drive her to the police station where they would pre
pare her for the plot Detective Graydon had hatched to trap Daisy.

  “Please Melanie! At least give me a chance to explain,” Keith begged, cornering her at the passenger side of the truck. From the driver side, Mr. Bradley remained respectfully silent, although Keith McBrennan had lost credibility in his eyes.

  “Keith, this is not the time or the place. I have to go take care of things,” she said sullenly, opening the car door.

  “But don’t let things end between us just because of this! I mean, I didn’t even have time to tell you who Daisy was. But if I had known she was planning to set your ice cream parlor on fire, I would have turned her into the police myself! Please, at least let me see you later. Just to talk.” He heard the desperation in his own voice, and it sounded alien. But he had no interest in preserving his pride at the moment. His only goal was to make Melanie forgive him and give their relationship another try.

  “I can’t think about anything but the investigation right now. Just give me some time, Keith. Please,” Melanie urged, closing the door behind her.

  In the side view mirror, she could see Keith standing on the curb staring after her sadly as the truck sped away. Averting her eyes to the road ahead, she swallowed another rush of tears and pushed Keith far from her mind. Their lovemaking in Ireland seemed like a phantom experience, a delusion, a fabrication. All she could think of now was bringing vicious Daisy Delaney to justice and reclaiming her business.

  *****

  Mr. Bradley parked the car in the driveway of Melanie’s short-lived beachfront fantasy. “This is not how I wanted you to see my new house, Dad,” she grumbled. “How sad that the first time you’re seeing this place will also be the last time.”

  “Fate has lots of twists and turns, Melanie. Even though everything seems so dark now, you’ll shine again, baby girl. Just believe your ol’ dad,” he said with more gruffness than intended.