First-Degree Fudge: A Fudge Shop Mystery

by DeSmet, Christine

  John laughed heartily again.

  I flashed Pauline a sideways and meaningful glance. She was never this impulsive; I had always been the impulsive one. Before she had tour buses of tipsy women stopping by to stomp fudge instead of grapes and stir grape juice in my copper kettles, I said, “John, what did you see and hear Sunday morning before you left for the boat tour? You were in your room, right? Your room is . . . which one?”

  He sobered fast. “Next to that old actress’s when I first got here. I had to move.”

  “Why?”

  “I laugh too loud. Can you imagine somebody complaining about laughing?” He spewed a bawdy guffaw before shaking his head.

  I was wondering if his disagreements with Rainetta ran deeper. “Rainetta Johnson complained that you laughed that Sunday morning? You two weren’t arguing about a bottle of wine, let’s say?”

  Pauline threw me a daggers look, then smiled for John. “You have a good laugh. The world needs more laughter.”

  “Not my kind,” he said. “She told the owner to get rid of me. Isabelle Boone just shook her head but asked me to trade with Taylor.”

  Isabelle had said Taylor Chin-Chavez was a twentysomething artist looking for a lighthouse to live in and use for displaying artwork. Probably not John’s type. Maybe she was somebody in need of money, though.

  I asked, “Is Taylor here?” I’d never met her, and though I’d seen her in a photo, I wanted her pointed out to me in case she’d changed her looks for the party.

  John looked around. “Oh yeah. I see her over with the sheriff.”

  Which meant I wasn’t going to talk with her right now. She had on heavy eyeliner. Her black hair flowed over one shoulder and she wore a caftan, creating an exotic appearance—like someone who would never fit in here. Was hunting for lighthouses merely a euphemism for hunting for diamonds? I was going to ask John more about her, but the TV camera people were coming through the back porch area led by Isabelle on their tour. They’d be chowing down on the grilled food and my Cinderella Pink Fudge within a minute, and thus occupied.

  “Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room,” I said. “Pauline, would you like to come with me?”

  John said, “And leave me? Stay here and tell me where teachers like to go on their summer tours.”

  I gave Pauline a look that said, If you don’t want me to kick you in the shin, you better come with me now.

  She excused herself with an annoying touch again on the man’s arm. “I’ll be right back, John.”

  A few feet from him, as we were heading fast around the side of the Blue Heron Inn for the front, Pauline huffed at me. “You don’t like him.”

  “Pauline Mertens, what are you doing flirting with somebody who doesn’t like my grandfather?”

  “He was on the tour with your grandfather, though.”

  “He was probably swilling wine the whole time. He didn’t say a word about the harrowing trip.”

  “He was being polite in front of you.”

  “I tell you, Pauline, he knows something pertinent to the murder. That was nervous laughter.”

  “Well, he was out on the boat. He didn’t do it.”

  “Then why is he acting guilty? He’s drinking too much. And you better not be falling for him.”

  “Sheesh, Ava. Can’t I at least use him to practice my rusty skills? You know, it’s been eight years since you washed yourself of Dillon Rivers. Isn’t it time to get back in the waters again yourself?”

  “Just now you made dating again sound unsavory.”

  We reached the front porch. I looked about to see who might be watching. “Jeremy Stone and John Schultz shared wine together in Jeremy’s room. I’m thinking that John is too much of a party animal to go out on that boat. Besides, wouldn’t he have had a hangover on Sunday morning?”

  “What are you getting at? Your grandfather can verify if he was on the boat. So can others.”

  “What if he had been here on Sunday and has been lying about it all this time and nobody’s bothered to verify who was on that boat?”

  “Call your grandpa.”

  “Indeed. I’ll call him later. Something about John doesn’t add up.”

  “He gave you a dirty look and now you don’t like him. That’s your grandfather’s fault for having a crappy boat that broke down.”

  “All right. But Jeremy Stone said he heard sounds coming from John’s room, or maybe Taylor’s. What if the killer struck, then hid in that room? Listening? And trying not to laugh at all of us in the hallway?”

  “Now you’re giving me the creeps. So the killer ducked into Taylor’s room when all hell broke loose. I refuse to believe it was John. He’s just too nice.”

  “I saw the Reeds pop their heads out of their room, but it was quiet on Rainetta’s side of the hall, except for what Jeremy says he heard.”

  “Maybe the Reeds had been in John’s room before and that’s what Jeremy heard.”

  “Hmm. So maybe there was a game of musical chairs going on upstairs on Sunday. But who was there?”

  Pauline shook her head vigorously. “There’s no way John Schultz killed a woman even if he was there.”

  I gave her the fierce look I used when I was about to steal the basketball from her on the court. “You were drooling. Pauline. The guy is maybe twenty years older than you. And he’s shorter than you. What are you thinking?”

  “That nobody’s flirted with me like that for at least five years.”

  I pulled her inside the inn, closing the front door behind us. My eyes had to adjust to an onslaught of crystal-refracted light. The glass Steubens sparkled with extra vibrancy. For the tour and TV cameras, Isabelle had turned on all the chandeliers, sconces, and lamps. Sequins seemed to float through the air. I couldn’t get over how grains of sand could create such beauty.

  Pauline murmured, “I bet some of these pieces are worth more than my annual salary.”

  “No time for thinking about it. Our job is to sneak upstairs into those rooms and see what we find.”

  Just then Isabelle walked in through the large dining room. “I thought I heard voices.”

  I gulped and said, “Hi, Izzy. We thought we’d use the ladies’ room while the lines were long at the buffet but not in here.”

  Pauline and I shared a nervous laugh.

  “Smart thinking,” Izzy said. She hugged us both. “Can you believe all the cameras? My collection’s going to be famous. One of the guys mentioned it’ll probably end up on a network morning show.”

  “That’s wonderful! Any word from Rainetta Johnson’s relatives?”

  “Well, no. She’d been estranged from her family for quite some time, according to her manager. He called to say he’ll be coming soon to collect her things and make arrangements for the body to be transported for the funeral.”

  “Where is that going to be?”

  “Some small town in New York.”

  “New York? An amazing and unfortunate coincidence with that diamond heist being there, too. Has the sheriff said anything more to you about that?”

  “I asked. He says that maybe her body will be released by tomorrow, and then he’ll issue more details.”

  Tomorrow? Wednesday instead of Friday? Jordy had said he’d be making arrests by Friday, but would he be doing that sooner? My left wrist pulsated with sharper pain as my heart raced. “Has he said anything more about how she died? Who he suspects murdered her?”

  “No.” Isabelle teared up. “It’s so unfair. She was a lovely lady.”

  A lovely lady who hated laughter. I could tell Pauline was ready to lay that alliteration on us, so I stepped forward to give Izzy another hug. “It’s unfair to you to have a death happen here amid all these beautiful things. How did you ever amass all these pieces? Did you inherit them?”

  Her tears flowed like rivers down her cheeks. Pauline and I stood like statues at first. I offered Izzy a tissue I ripped from a box on a table near the entryway.

  “I’m sorry.” She sobbed.


  “It’s okay. The Steubens obviously mean a lot to you. And the death upstairs was a shock to all of us, but you especially.”

  She nodded, finally sighing as she looked about the grand hall with its glass menagerie. “I feel close to my mother here. That helps.”

  “You inherited these things from her?”

  “No. We were way too poor for that. But when I was little, back in Arkansas, she took me once to a field where you can mine diamonds.”

  “Like mining gold?” I was incredulous.

  “Yeah,” she said, wiping at her eyes with the tissue. “Near Murfreesboro, there’s a place where tourists can go. You get to keep anything you find in the fields.”

  Pauline said, “And you found some?”

  “One tiny one is all, but it meant everything to me. I kept it under my pillow. Until my mom took it.”

  I asked, “She stole it?”

  Izzy laughed. “No. We needed a car. Our old one broke down. She sold it to a jeweler for a couple hundred dollars to buy an old junker. We went back to the diamond field a couple more times, but never found anything. I wanted to go back more, but my mom said we couldn’t afford the gas and time to do that.”

  I still didn’t “get” how Izzy could afford this extensive Steuben collection we were standing amid. “How did you come to own your first piece? Which one is your first?”

  She pointed to an egg-shaped vase about eight inches tall. “It was a gift to my mom from her employer when she first went into the hospital. I was in high school. She died of cancer.”

  “Oh, Izzy, I’m sorry,” I said, realizing I called her a friend and hadn’t taken the time to learn much about her at all. I was shamed by it. “Let’s make a date for dinner sometime and talk. Okay?”

  “I’d love that.” She kneaded the tissue between her hands. “You asked how I got my collection. Several pieces came from my mother’s employer as payment for cleaning her house. It took me a while to catch on that rich people stay rich by keeping their cash and giving gifts instead, but that was okay. She told me to save the Steubens because they’d be worth a lot someday. What mattered was that I saw how much my mother loved looking at the glass vase in the hospital, with the light coming in through the window. The glass gave her joy. I guess each piece in here,” Izzy said, casting about in wonder, “gives me joy, too.”

  Someone called her from the kitchen and she hurried away.

  Pauline’s face held confusion and maybe some of the guilt I felt, too. She said, “Can we really sneak upstairs after that? I feel terrible just thinking about it.”

  “We have to look, Pauline. For Izzy’s sake. And Cody’s. And mine. If the sheriff is announcing something by tomorrow, I could be in jail because of those diamonds in my fudge.”

  We hurried up the blue-carpeted staircase, pausing at the top to let our eyes adjust to the dim light.

  The low muttering of a husky voice came to us. My skin itched with excitement. Who was in what room? John and Taylor were outside, and I presumed Jeremy was, too. That left the Reeds and the Earlywines. Or somebody in the throes of a theft.

  The voices came again, from the room to our left, the first one near the top of the stairs. Boyd and Ryann Earlywine. I tiptoed up to their door.

  Boyd’s muttering grew louder. “We can’t just take the diamonds with us.”

  “Why not?” His wife’s voice feathered through the door. “We’re not suspects, really. That kid did it. That’s what we’ll tell anybody who asks. Nobody’s going to miss a few diamonds anyway.”

  Pauline had stayed back. I waved her to come listen. She refused. She stood near the stairwell clinging to her big black bag as if it were a life preserver.

  From inside the room Boyd said to his wife, “I saw the kid in that room. He has to know these diamonds were in there. He’ll be coming back for them.”

  “Exactly. He killed that woman for the diamonds.”

  “He put them in that lady’s fudge to hide them.”

  “He’s not that bright,” Ryann said.

  I crouched down to put my ear against the keyhole.

  Ryann said, “I bet there’s some fudge somewhere that was supposed to be at the party that didn’t have diamonds in it and there was some mix-up. There has to be somebody who thought he or she was picking up the diamonds and got only fudge for their trouble. I’m not even sure the fudge was all that good. Did you see the color? Pink? I’ve never seen pink fudge. Ick.”

  I almost barged in right there to give them a piece of my mind but held back.

  “Mix-up or not, he killed her,” Boyd said. “But I don’t want to get involved. We’re leaving the diamonds here so we can get the hell out of here. Just leave them across the hall in that loudmouth’s room. He deserves to be arrested. I’m through with being told I have to stay here at this B and B and in this town. I’ve got my research to do.”

  “But we came for a lot more than your research. I don’t want to leave empty-handed.”

  The door popped open, and I tumbled onto the rug at the Earlywines’ feet.

  Chapter 9

  The Earlywines stared at me writhing on the floor and holding my left wrist.

  “Ow, ow, ow,” I muttered up at them instead of the curse words I really wanted to say. I was inches from their designer loafers.

  Pauline rushed over, slamming her big black schoolbag next to me. While picking me up, she said, “I’m so sorry, everybody. It was this purse. It’s so heavy, and it slipped off my shoulder and tripped her. So sorry. We were coming up to use the bathroom.”

  The Earlywines moved into the hallway, then shut their door. Boyd was my height, with short sandy-colored hair and a boy-next-door look. His wife, Ryann, the one I’d overheard wanting to keep diamonds they’d found in Rainetta’s room, was cover-girl pretty with a heart-shaped face framed by a blond bob. Both were fortyish and dressed in sporty leather jackets over blue jeans. Expensive, spicy scents shifted the air around me like an approaching storm.

  I held out my hand. “I’m Ava Oosterling.”

  Boyd quickly withdrew the hand he’d put out. “The hot fudge lady.”

  “It was hot, but I have no idea how the diamonds got in my fudge.”

  “Neither do we. Now if you’ll excuse us—”

  With Pauline next to me, I easily blocked their path to the staircase. “I heard you talking about diamonds you found.”

  Pauline gasped.

  For a moment the couple stared at me like two mice caught in a corner by a cat.

  Then Boyd sighed, holding out a palm to his wife. “I told you these were trouble.”

  From out of her purse, Ryann retrieved a red velvet drawstring bag the size of a deck of cards. Boyd handed the bag to me.

  The soft velvet in my right palm weighed hardly anything. After my pleading look, Pauline obliged and untied the drawstring. Nestled in the darkness were tiny crystals, maybe a dozen.

  I asked the couple, “You’re sure these are diamonds?”

  Boyd shrugged. “I’m here doing research on Talbot Chambers and the lighthouse named after him. We stumbled across the diamonds.”

  “By snooping in Rainetta’s room.” I pursed my lips at them.

  They both shrugged. Boyd said, “You can keep them.”

  Pauline said, “No way.” She backed away.

  Boyd took that as his chance to duck through the gap between us with his wife.

  As I was being tear-gassed by their spicy perfume, I said to Boyd on the staircase, “I’m going to have to show these to the sheriff and tell him you had them.”

  “Actually, you have them now. And I’ll tell the sheriff I saw you sneak into Rainetta’s room with Cody Fjelstad—your conspirator to a murder and diamond heist.”

  The couple hurried down the stairs while my mouth hung open. The diamonds in my hand felt like a hot potato. “Here,” I said to Pauline, “put these in your purse.”

  “Not in my bag. I’ll be arrested!”

  “No, you won’t.
I’m the one who will get frisked by the sheriff if he’s suspicious.”

  “We’ll leave them up here somewhere.”

  “We can’t do that,” I said, shoving them in her bag amid the crayons and Sharpie markers. “Somebody’s going to come back for these.”

  “Like the killer? You’ve got to be kidding if you think I’m going to wait around for the headline ‘Killer Kicks Off Kindergarten Keeper.’ That’s not my kind of alliteration.”

  “But we know somebody’s going to return to Rainetta’s room for these and whatever else she hid there.”

  “How do we know that?”

  “Because these diamonds were there after the sheriff inspected her room. Which means they were well hidden. Which means Rainetta knew enough to protect herself from somebody around here who she knew might snoop in her room.”

  “You sound crazy from that fall down the stairs.”

  “No, Pauline. Cody wouldn’t have been in her room, either, unless somebody put him up to that because they knew the diamonds were there. As in, they still had to pick up the diamonds from Rainetta.”

  “Or these are merely her diamonds and she hid them to prevent people from stealing them.”

  I relented with a huff. “Perhaps. But my theory was sounding a whole lot sexier.”

  “A plot fit for your situation comedy, maybe.” With a sigh, Pauline put her big bag down at my feet on the carpeted hallway. “You take it. It’s no longer my bag. It’s my gift to you. I am not a detective. I’m a teacher.”

  “Don’t be silly.” A groan escaped me when I picked up the heavy bag with only my right arm. “What do you have in here? Hidden kindergartners?” I groaned a second time with much drama, holding out my impaired left wrist.

  “All right,” Pauline said in a huff, yanking the bag back onto her shoulder. “I’ve got the diamonds. Now what do we do with them?”

  “Just don’t let your kindergartners eat them or you’ll be following them into the restrooms with plastic Baggies.”

  “Very funny.”

  “You’ll be fine. Let’s get back down to that party and see who might sneak back inside.”

  “But what about the Earlywines? They had the diamonds. Aren’t we letting them get away with something?”