Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack

by Sally Berneathy

  He just couldn’t admit he was wrong.

  *~*~*

  Fred pulled his car into the garage and we got out and started across the street. We were halfway there when Sophie’s porch light came on and her front door opened.

  Interesting. “Think she has dinner waiting for us?” I suddenly realized I was hungry. Chocolate chip cookies are great, but they only go so far. I was ready for a pizza, double pepperoni, extra cheese.

  Fred took my elbow and urged me forward at a faster pace. “Something’s wrong.”

  Since I knew Fred could see her expression with his telescopic night vision, I hurried.

  “Come in,” she said when we stepped onto the porch. I could hear the tension in her voice and see it on her face. Once again, Fred was right. “There’s something you need to see.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  We followed her inside and I stared in awe at the beautiful living area she’d created from the ugliness that had been there before. High ceiling, hardwood floors, a plush off-white sofa with colorful pillows and inviting chairs in matching colors, wall decorations and pictures that looked as if they had been fashioned just for that room. It was a room created by an interior designer. It was Sophie.

  Except for the rectangular cardboard box sitting on the coffee table and its ghastly contents.

  Sophie took a seat on the end of the sofa, as far away from the box as she could get, and folded her hands in her lap. “That was waiting on my porch when I got home from work.”

  Fred sat down directly in front of the box and leaned closer. “Have you touched it?”

  “I touched the box but not the doll.”

  The baby doll was old, at least twenty years. It looked like something I’d played with when I was young. In fact, it looked very much like some of my dolls. Her blond hair was matted, her dress was dirty, and her head had been severed from her body. Not that I decapitated my dolls deliberately. It just happened. But this one did not look like an accident. The incision appeared to be recent and precise, as if done with a sharp surgeon’s knife.

  “That’s Carolyn’s doll,” Sophie said quietly. “She was real.”

  “Yes,” Fred agreed. “She was real. Are you certain this was her doll?”

  She nodded. “When I opened the box, the memory of the day she got that doll hit me hard. It was a birthday gift from her father.”

  I sank into a turquoise chair, and sank into was the right phrase. It was soft and plush and molded to my body. I could sit there for a day or two if somebody would bring me chocolate and pizza. “You remember her father?” I asked.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes. I don’t think he lived with them. Maybe they were divorced. But when he came to visit, Carolyn was ecstatic. He always brought her toys, and usually he’d bring something for me too.”

  That picture didn’t exactly coincide with the impression I had of Dr. Dan. But people thought Ted Bundy was a nice man.

  Fred took Sophie’s arm gently. He’d never taken my arm gently.

  But he had fetched me a Coke with a straw when I was in the hospital after being poisoned. Okay, I had seen Fred’s gentle side before. Still, the way he was looking at Sophie was…gentle.

  “Sophie,” he said quietly, “I need you to do something that’s not going to be easy.”

  She nodded, her dark gaze focused trustingly on his face. Of course I trust Fred…with my life. But not with that total, unquestioning trust I saw in her eyes. I was going to have to talk to Sophie about the mistake of giving that complete trust to anybody, even Fred.

  “I want you to lean back, relax, close your eyes and focus on that scene you keep dreaming about, Carolyn’s death. I want you to tell me every detail you see, what she’s wearing, what the room looks like, any other people you can see.”

  Obediently she leaned back against an emerald green pillow. Instead of making her look like a corpse, the color brightened her skin. If I didn’t like her, I could hate her.

  Fred held her hand in one of his and stroked it with the other. That was a little much. I made a face and tried to get his attention, but he was focused completely on Sophie.

  “Relax, Sophie. Let the clouds swirl around you and take you to a safe place. The clouds are warm and comfortable. They’re settling around you, wrapping you in their warmth. You’re going to remember your dream about Carolyn, but it’s going to be like watching a movie, not like you’re really there.”

  Omigawd! He was hypnotizing her! I knew she shouldn’t trust him so completely!

  I sat forward and started to protest, to break the spell. But I couldn’t think of any reason why I should, so I kept my mouth shut and watched in fascination. Fred continued to speak softly to Sophie. I made a note to stay wide awake if he ever spoke softly to me.

  “Sophie, can you see Carolyn?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s she doing?”

  She rolled her head and gave a slight moan.

  “Relax. You’re watching a movie. You’re not personally involved. Where are you while you’re watching this movie, Sophie?”

  “Hiding in the bedroom closet.” Her voice was small, like that of a child. That was creepy.

  “Why are you hiding in the bedroom closet?”

  “I wasn’t sleepy so I sneaked out and came over to play with Carolyn. I’m not supposed to go outside at night.”

  “So you came over to see Carolyn in the middle of the night. Why are you hiding in the closet?”

  “Somebody came to see her mommy. We heard them yelling, and then we heard somebody coming upstairs, so I hid in the closet. I didn’t want her mommy to tell my mommy. I’d get in trouble.”

  “Who came to see Carolyn’s mommy?”

  Sophie fidgeted. “He hurt Carolyn.”

  “Relax.” He stroked her hand again until she calmed and her breathing was once more quiet and even. “Did this person come into Carolyn’s room?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened when he came into her room?”

  “She cried. He hurt her. He had a knife. I was scared. I got out of the closet and ran home and told Mommy and Daddy.”

  “Did you see the person who hurt Carolyn?”

  She shook her head slowly from side to side. “I didn’t want to look. Carolyn was bleeding.”

  “Did you see the face of the person who hurt her?”

  “No, but Mommy and Daddy saw him.”

  I sat forward. That got my attention.

  Fred showed no sign that he was surprised, but I knew he was. Well, I thought maybe he was.

  “When did your mommy and daddy see him?”

  “He tried to get me and hurt me too. He chased me home. Mommy sent me to my room and they talked to him for a long time.”

  “What did they say?”

  “I don’t know. I was in my room crying because Carolyn got hurt. When he left, Mommy came up to my room. She was crying too.”

  “What did your mommy say when she came to your room?”

  “She hugged me and said I should go to sleep and everything would be okay when I woke up.”

  “I want you to focus on that moment you ran out of the closet and went past the man who hurt Carolyn. You caught a glimpse of him. Focus on that glance. Isolate it from the rest of the movie and look at that one frame.”

  She moved her head from side to side and gave a small whimper. I think Fred flinched when she made that sound. Maybe he just burped. Hard to tell in the dim light.

  “Can you see the man who hurt Carolyn?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Was that man her father?”

  Sophie was quiet for a long time. “Maybe,” she finally said.

  “Was he tall?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was his hair dark or light?”

  “Dark, like mine.”

  “Can you tell me anything else about him?”

  She clenched her hands into fists. “He hurt Carolyn.”

  Fred looked at me as if asking if I h
ad any comments or questions. I shrugged and let out a long breath I suddenly realized I’d been holding, unable to breathe while Sophie told her story.

  “Sophie, when I tell you to open your eyes, you’re going to be wide awake. You’ll feel rested and refreshed. You’ll remember everything you’ve seen, but it will be like a movie. You won’t be upset. Open your eyes, Sophie.”

  She did, lifted her hands to her face and promptly burst into tears.

  Apparently he wasn’t as good at the hypnosis thing as he thought he was.

  He looked at me and for the first time I saw panic on his face.

  I sat upright, held my arms out in a semblance of an embrace, and mouthed the words, “Hug her!”

  He wrapped tentative arms around Sophie. “Relax,” he said. “It’s only a movie.”

  I dashed to the kitchen and was relieved to see that Sophie had Cokes in her refrigerator. I grabbed one and took it to her.

  When I returned, she’d regained her composure for the most part and was wiping her eyes with a tissue. “Thank you,” she said as she accepted the Coke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down like that. It’s just that now that I know Carolyn was real, her death hit me like it happened yesterday.” She smiled at Fred. “It’s not your fault. I cry at sad movies.”

  Fred sat beside her, once again in control, but now I had his number. He could take down a murderer with a well-aimed kick, drink coffee with mobsters with no worries and hack into government files without a second thought, but he didn’t know what to do with a crying woman.

  “I’m sorry I brought up painful memories,” he said.

  She shook her head. “They were always there, tormenting me behind the scenes. They had to come out eventually. Now we need to find the man who murdered Carolyn.”

  “You’re certain she was dead?”

  “When I ran out of that room, she was lying on the floor, covered in blood, and that man was standing over her with a knife. I never saw her again. And now this doll—” She waved a hand at the box on her coffee table. “Yes, I’m certain she’s dead.”

  “What about her mother? Did you see her that night?”

  “No. She wasn’t in Carolyn’s room. Only the man came upstairs. Do you think he killed her too?”

  “At this point, we don’t know what happened to her. Can you tell me anything else about the man’s face?”

  She wadded the tissue in her hand. “I was so upset about Carolyn, I didn’t pay any attention to him. I didn’t look at his face. He appeared to be a monster, tall and dark, a monster who hurt my friend and wanted to hurt me. You think it might have been her father?”

  “It’s possible. You said earlier her father was a kind man. Do you remember anything else about him? Was he abusive? Did he spank Carolyn? Anything to suggest he could be a killer?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t remember him ever spanking Carolyn. The only times she got in trouble were when I instigated something, and then her mother would send me home and send her to her room.”

  “How did he act around Carolyn’s mother?”

  “They were affectionate, often hugging, holding hands. Once Carolyn and I caught them kissing, and we giggled about that for days. I can’t imagine that he killed her. Maybe it was a home invasion.”

  “That’s always possible. But if the killer followed you home, why didn’t your parents call the police?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe he threatened them.”

  Or bribed them. I thought of the large deposit made to the Flemings’ bank account and their sudden move out of state.

  Had their deaths been a tragic accident or the result of someone who didn’t trust them to keep his secret?

  “Please.” She gazed intently into Fred’s eyes. “Find out who killed my friend.”

  He gazed intently into her eyes. I felt sort of like an intruder. “I’ll try my best,” he promised.

  I stood, ready to sneak out and leave them alone. But Fred rose too, and Sophie stood with him.

  “I think you should plan to spend the night at my house again,” he said.

  She smiled bravely. “I’ll be fine. My deadbolt is quite secure, and now that I’ve faced reality and brought up the memory, I don’t think I’ll have the Carolyn nightmare again. That means I won’t be leaving my house with the door open.”

  He nodded. “If you do, I’ll come over here with you and check the place thoroughly.”

  We left and she stood in the doorway watching us.

  We reached the end of the sidewalk and stepped off the curb onto the street. “You ever been in love?” I asked.

  “I suppose that depends on how you define the word,” he replied. “Would you say you’re in love with chocolate?”

  Of course I wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of him.

  “Wait!” Sophie called.

  We turned as she hurried down the porch steps toward us.

  “I think I remember something else.” She gave Fred an uncertain look then continued. “The man, just before Carolyn cried out, he said, I’m sorry.”

  I looked at Fred and could tell he was thinking the same thing I was thinking. Did Dr. Dan suffer remorse because he was forced to kill his second family to maintain his first?

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next day while Paula and I prepared for breakfast, I caught her up on the latest developments. She listened quietly for the most part, shaking her head now and then, but when I finished the story about our visit to the Murrays, she stopped beating the cinnamon roll dough and looked at me in a way that made me feel she wanted to replace that dough with my head.

  “You promised them you’d go to a party for George?”

  “Well, yeah, actually I promised them you, Fred and I would go to that party.”

  Her eyes widened and she gave the dough a really hard thump. “I’d kill you right now, but then who’d make the Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake for lunch?”

  It’s always good to know my talents are appreciated.

  The morning went smoothly. One customer demanded his money back after he’d eaten three chocolate scones and drunk two cups of Paula’s coffee. But nobody died, the police didn’t come to take me away, no reporters came by to ask embarrassing questions, so it was a good morning.

  Matthew came in toward the end of the lunch hour rush, sat at the counter and talked to Paula at every opportunity. He had a goofy expression on his face when he looked at her. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t shared my reservations about him. Obviously I was wrong. Anybody who looked like that couldn’t possibly have an ulterior motive.

  Finally only a few people, Matthew among them, of course. I was beginning cleanup when Fred called. I took my tray of dishes into the kitchen, set them in the sink and answered my cell phone.

  “Do you have a long skirt?” As I said, Fred isn’t a fan of chitchat.

  “I think so.”

  “What color is it?”

  “Red, purple, green, orange, teal. I dressed as a hippy for a Halloween party. It gets in my way when I walk, so I haven’t worn it since.”

  “That won’t do. You need a black one.”

  “Are we making a visit to the cult people?”

  “How about a scarf?”

  “I have several scarves.”

  “What color?”

  “Red, purple, green, orange, teal. I like bright colors.”

  He sighed. “I’ll take care of it. I’ve been doing some checking on our favorite doctor, and I’ve located his parents. He and his brother are both from Seventh Gate.”

  A cold hand wrapped around my heart and squeezed really tight. “So he and Matthew are from the same community.” That didn’t prove anything bad about Matthew, but it looked suspicious.

  “I’ll bring the necessary clothing to your house when you get home from work.” He hung up.

  I stood motionless, staring at my phone for several moments.

  Paula shoved the door open and almost ran into me. “What are you
doing?” she asked as she placed a tray of dirty dishes on the counter.

  “Uh…”

  “Is there any more Mousse Cake?” She opened the refrigerator door. “Oh, good, there’s another one. Matthew wants a piece. I told him it’s your best creation to date.” She set the dessert on the counter and began to slice it. “He’s worried about Zach and me after what happened to Sophie Sunday night. He offered to sit outside in his car all night to be sure we were safe. I told him that was silly.”

  She didn’t look up, but I could tell from her voice that, while she thought Matthew’s offer was silly, she also thought it was sweet. I thought he’d just set up a perfect alibi for hanging around and spying on Sophie.

  I watched Paula carefully place a piece of Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake on a plate then take it out front. I considered taking the remainder of the dessert and dumping it over Matthew’s head, but that would have been a waste of good chocolate.

  Still, it was tempting.

  *~*~*

  True to his word, Fred met me at the front door of my house when I got home from work. He wore a pair of faded overalls and a blue work shirt and carried a large shopping bag with no store name on it. I suspected he had not bought our new clothes at Macy’s. Maybe the back room of the Good Will thrift store.

  I opened the door and Henry greeted me, winding himself around my legs and purring. He ignored Fred and Fred ignored him. Before we left, Henry would somehow manage to stick a couple hundred of his hairs to Fred’s clothing.

  I fed Henry while Fred unpacked his bag in the living room.

  I returned to see a long black skirt, a black blouse and a black scarf spread out on the sofa. They were all faded and wrinkled. “Haute couture.”

  “Go upstairs and put them on. Wear those black shoes you wear when your feet hurt. We need to hurry. It’s a long drive.”

  “If we’re in a hurry, does this mean I get to drive since I drive faster than you?”

  He scowled. “We’ll see.”

  He didn’t say no.

  I gathered up the dreadful clothes and took them to my bedroom where I pulled off my jeans and T-shirt then put on the witch’s disguise. I studied myself in the cheval floor mirror. I looked sort of like a witch. Was this how those people we were going to visit dressed? How sad to be forced to wear clothes like this all the time…no blue jeans, no red silk shirts, no fleecy warm-ups in winter.