The chocolate frog frame-up: a chocoholic mystery

by JoAnna Carl

That was news. I lowered my voice. ”Oh?”

  “I’m merely guessing by his purchases in the liquor department. And from some of Patsy’s remarks.”

  All of a sudden I felt as if I’d fallen in a mud hole. And I was so ashamed of myself that I probably blushed. I could barely pay Greg Glossop off with a tidbit about one of the ladies who worked at TenHuis being pregnant. She was telling everybody, so I wasn’t letting any cats out of any bags. Then I sidled toward the produce aisle, and Greg Glossop had to leave me to go back to his eyrie above the drug and beauty department.

  I picked up my bag of salad and stood in line at the checkout stand, feeling ashamed of gossiping. But I was also looking at another possible motive for getting rid of Hershel. A motive for Patsy and Frank. Not only was Hershel an annoying and frustrating relative to have on their hands, he also forced them into a bad financial position and threatened their marriage. And if Frank was fooling around or drinking – I didn’t consider Greg Glossop’s evidence conclusive; Frank might have been taking whose home to Patsy – Hershel spying might have inconvenienced him, as well.

  Yes, Frank and Patsy were going to be a lot better off without their troublesome relative – financially and personally.

  I picked up the pizza and headed for Joe’s. When I got there, the telephone company’s truck was parked beside the shop and the shop’s doors were all open, but there was nobody around. I called out, but nobody answered.

  I decided that Joe and the repairman were probably tracking down the phone problem. I took the salad and pizza and went into Joe’s little cubbyhole of a bedroom-living room-dining room. He’d already set the card table with plates, forks, knoves and a can of parmesan cheese, but he hadn’t anticipated salad. I found a couple of bowls in the cupboard and filled them with salad.

  Still no Joe. I decided that the microwave oven was the only small, enclosed space in the room – the only place where the pizza might stay warm. I had just clicked the microwaves door open when I heard a noise in the shop, and Joe came to the door.

  “Hi,” I said. ”Dinner’s just about ready.”

  “Well it wait? I want you to see something.”

  I put the pizza in the microwave, then followed Joe outside. He led me down the drive and out onto the road – actually read the tag and of Dock Street, but that far from the center of town, it had turned into a gravel road.

  “What are we going to see?” I asked.

  “The phone man found it. I’ve called the police.”

  I stopped dead. ”Not another body!”

  “No! I wouldn’t drag you out to see something gruesome.”

  I continued to follow Joe, but with some dread. A line of utility poles, of course, followed the road. Wires were over our heads, mixed in among the trees. And at about 100 feet I saw a man in the uniform of the phone company.

  “I want to show that wire to Ms. McKinney,” Joe said.

  Wordlessly, the phone man pointed down. A cable trailed down from above him, and the end lay near his feet.

  The end. It wasn’t attached to anything. The other end let up into the trees. But this end was just lying on the ground.

  The phone man looks almost pleased. ”It sure wasn’t equipment failure,” he said. ”This wire was deliberately cut.”

  Chapter 16

  Chief Jones arrived shortly. Joe and I left him taking pictures and went back to the shop to eat our salad and pizza. When I drove away a half hour later the telephone man was up on the pole, and the chief was walking toward the shop. We waved at each other.

  An hour after that the chief showed up at TenHuis Chocolade.

  I was in my office, working away, when I saw him come in the street door. He paused and peered around the shop, looking more Lincolnesque than usual. Tracy and Stacy were busy with a half-dozen tourists, so I waved, and the chief came on back. He slouched down in a chair. Somehow ordinary furniture never seemed tall enough to fit Chief Jones.

  “What happened to the phone line?” I asked.

  “Somebody cut it.”

  “Somebody climbed the pole and cut it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t know exactly how the guy did it. He could have brought a ladder or climbed on top of the truck or swung from a tree like Tarzan. Me, if I wanted to cut the phone line, I’d use a pruning hook. The kind on an extended pole.”

  I sighed. ”Not too hard to find in Orchard country.”

  “Nope. Matter of fact, Joe’s nearest neighbor has one, and he keeps it in an unlocked garage. But now I want to ask you a couple of questions.”

  “Sure. But I don’t know a thing about that phone line except that Joe’s phone wasn’t working on Tuesday. And finding it was caught would seem to be yet one more factor proving that Joe is innocent. He’s definitely the victim of a frame up.”

  “I didn’t come to talk about Joe. I want you to go over what Hershel said to you when he came up to the truck that night.”

  I collected my thoughts a minute, then retold the episode. Hershel, after scaring me half to death, had demanded to meet Aunt Nettie at the old chapel. He had refused my offer to get medical help. He had refused my assurances that people missed him and were looking for him. He had refused to trust anybody but Aunt Nettie.

  “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Chief,” I said, “but he particularly scoffed at you, Trey, Jerry Cherry, Meg, Patsy, and Frank. He said, ‘I saw that bunch on the dock.’”.

  “Don’t forget, Joe was there with us.”

  “I admit that. And we all know Hershel was already mad at Joe. But he was quite firm about not trusting any of you. Talked as if he suspected some sort of conspiracy.”

  “He didn’t go into details?”

  “No. I was surprised when he included Trey. Apparently they become buddies during the remodeling of Patsy and Frank’s house.”

  “I think Trey had been real patient with Hershel while he was working on the Waterloos’ house, but Meg didn’t share his patience. Hershel started hanging out at Trey’s office and at their house. Meg finally called me to complain about Hershel. Joe backed her up, of course. Hershel could not understand that he had to.”

  “He had to back up his wife, you mean?” The chief nodded, and I went on. ”Patsy said Meg complained that Hershel was stalking her. But Patsy said he wasn’t really interested in Meg. She thinks it was just Hershel’s fascination with Trey.”

  “I think that was a lot of it, but we have to remember that Meg can be pretty fascinating by herself.”

  Was I imagining it, or was the chief giving me a sidelong look? ”If you meant that for me personally,” I said, “I’m aware that Joe and Meg dated each other in high school. I talked to Joe about it, and he doesn’t seem to be harboring a guilty passion for her. Does all seem to fit into Hershel’s conspiracy theory?”

  “I don’t see how. But you’re forgetting me. Apparently Hershel suspected me of conspiring against him.”

  “He also seemed to suspects and Jerry Cherry.”

  The chief grimaced. ”I can’t find that Jerry ever had any particular contact with Hershel. Hershel may have mistrusted his uniform.”

  I grinned. ”I trust you both, chief.”

  “Thanks. But I admit I got crossways with Hershel over the way he roamed around town. A couple of times we had window peeping complaints about him. I had to be the bad guy.”

  “It sounds as if Hershel wasn’t as harmless as Patsy thinks.”

  “Oh, he just looked. And a warning would stop Hershel. If I told him, ‘Don’t go around the Corbetts’ house again,’ he might grumble, but I could feel sure he wasn’t going to go over there. Patsy says I scared him after Meg complained, but Hershel didn’t act scared when I talked to him.”

  “That’s funny. Patsy said he hid. That she found him trembling all over. If you didn’t scare him, what did?”

  “Maybe I’d better try to find out. But now I want to ask you a different question. Who’d you tell that you were going to Grand Rapids last night?”


  “Aunt Nettie.”

  “Who else?”

  “Nobody, Chief. I was a little embarrassed about leaving early, so I didn’t tell the girls on the counter I was going on a date. Aunt Nettie may have told somebody.”

  But when we asked Aunt Nettie,, she denied mentioning it to anybody. ”It just didn’t arise,” she said firmly. ”Besides, it’s nobody’s business but Lee and Joe’s.”

  Bless her heart, she’d been avoiding gossip.

  The chief asked her several ways. Had she talked on the phone about it? Had Joe’s mom popped in and brought it up? Had anybody come in asking for Lee and she said, ‘Oh, she’s gone to Grand Rapids’?”

  Aunt Nettie denied every situation. ”I didn’t mention it to anybody,” she said. ”In fact, I went home right after Lee left. I left Hazel and the counter girls in charge. But I don’t think any of them knew where Lee and Joe had gone.”

  “We didn’t mean for our trip to be a secret,” I said. ”Joe may have told someone.”

  The chief shook his head. ”He says he didn’t. We know nobody called him – his landline was out of commission, and apparently you and his mom are the only two people who ever call on the cell phone. And he says his mother didn’t call yesterday afternoon.” He turned to me. ”You see why it matters?”

  I nodded. ”If someone called you and said we were headed for the Grand Rapids airport… And if that panel truck lay in wait for us at the Willard station…”

  “Right. Our boy had to know you were coming.”

  On that happy note the chief went out the door, leaving my innards all atremble. I’d already faced the possibility that somebody had deliberately tried to shove us into a bridge railing – three times. The whole situation was scary. Could that be connected with Hershel’s death? I didn’t see how.

  But to me Hershel’s murder had almost become a side issue. Whoever had killed Hershel also seemed determined to implicate Joe. That’s what worried me.

  Somebody had to know Joe and I were going to Grand Rapids. And nobody had known.

  I suddenly realized I was partially wrong. No one had known we were going to Grand Rapids, but one person had definitely known we were there.

  Tom Johnson.

  Tom Johnson, who looked like Santa Claus and leered like a satyr. Tom Johnson, who Joe had described as “a beard,” a person who is acting for someone else. He had talked to us at his office and would undoubtedly have realized we were likely to eat dinner before we headed back. Tom Johnson, who had signed an option to buy the old Root Beer Barrel property.

  We were right back to that lot. I didn’t understand why. But I did know I wanted to talk to Joe. I was reaching for the phone when it rang.

  “TenHuis Chocolade.”

  “Lee? It’s Joe.”

  “I was just going to call you.”

  “What about?”

  ” The chief was in asking who I told we were going to Grand Rapids. I hadn’t told anybody. But someone do we were there.”

  “Yeah. Tom Johnson.”

  “Did you tell the chief that?”

  “No. I admit I didn’t think of him at all until a few minutes ago. When Tom called me.”

  “He called! What did he want?”

  “He wants to finalize the deal on the Root Beer Barrel property next week.”

  “Whoops! I guess your suspicions were wrong, Joe. I guess ol’ Tom really does want to buy the property.”

  “Ol’ Tom or his pal, whoever that is.”

  “You still think he’s acting for someone else?”

  “Oh, yeah. But I guess that’s not my concern. I’m getting the money I wanted for it. I haven’t had a chance to check with the other property owners along there, to see if they’ve had offers.”

  “You could still back out.”

  “I’d owe him some interest on his earnest money, but I guess Clem’s estate could find the bucks somewhere. I’ll ask around before we close the deal. And I know a few guys in Grand Rapids. I’ll try to find out if he has any connection with some other developer.”

  “I was wondering if he had any connection with somebody who owns a black panel truck.”

  “I’ll leave that one up to Chief Jones. But I’d sure hate to queer the sale of that property merely because of my suspicious nature. And speaking of that property – how do you like to go by there tonight? After you get off work.”

  “I will be off until nine thirty or ten.”

  “I know. The mood is just visible over the trees now. Nine thirty or ten ought to be a good time for a boat ride.”

  “Well…”

  “And the lake’s supposed to be calm. When 5 mi./h from the Southwest.”

  I laughed. ”In that case, I’ll meet you at the dock.”

  Joe had known the prospect of a calm lake would be the final enticement. I love being out on Lake Michigan – particularly in the moonlight – but rough water gives my tummy trouble. A moonlight cruise isn’t romantic if one party is leaning over the side of the boat. It’s lucky Joe’s love the boats emphasizes working on them and admiring them. If you wanted to go places in them all the time, he’d ditch me and my queasy innards in a hurry.

  Anyway, I called home and warned Aunt Nettie that I’d be late. Joe appeared at the door of TenHuis Chocolade at nine thirty-one p.m. he swept the floor while I balanced the cash register and Tracy and Stacy alternately giggled and cleaned the counter and it showcases. I got my jacket and scarf out of the van, and we were all out of the shop by nine fifty p.m.

  The temperature was brisk – mid fifties. But Joe was right about the moon; it was full and gorgeous. He had brought the Shepherd Sedan, and the motor gurgled soothingly as we puttered down the river channel through the no wake zone that led clear out to the lake. The motor meant there was no conversation, but what did we need to say? We were alone. Everything was beautiful, and I don’t mean just the moonlight, the light of the houses and businesses along the shore, the ranks of boats in the marinas. Then we passed the jetty that protected the river channel as it emptied into the lake, and the water unfolded before us, stretching to the horizon to the south, to the north, and to the west. The moon had moved into the western sky, and its reflection created a path to infinity. I felt as if we could turn the boat onto that path and follow it right up into the stratosphere. We did not need a rocket ship; we had the Shepherd Sedan.

  Joe didn’t turn into the moon’s path, of course. He turned right, swinging out beyond the sandbar that parallels the shore, and we headed North, about a quarter of a mile offshore. We passed Warner Point and the elegant mansion which was getting Joe such fits as he tried to settle his ex-wife’s estate. Neither of us even pointed at it. Then we saw the trees and the houses along N. Lake Shore Dr., with rolling, tree covered dunes behind them. In the moonlight, the private stairways leading down to the beach were clearly visible, as was the one block of condominiums that had been built on the lakeshore. Far ahead, miles away, we could see the warning beacon from the lighthouse at Holland. It was all like a dream, and we both were in a sort of reverie as the boat gurgled along in the brilliant moonlight.

  We weren’t completely alone out there. There were other boats. Most of them were farther out. Many were big – some people would be sleeping out there, others would be fishing, there might be a party going on aboard one of the yachts. But none of them was close to us; no one seemed to be interested in us as we moved up the Lake.

  After the block of condominiums, the shoreline was marked by a section of trees. When we were opposite that spot, Joe cut the engine. His required running lights and his anchor lights were on, but the brilliant moonlight almost hid them. The boat swayed gently. Calm is a relative term when it comes to a giant body of water like Lake Michigan. The Lake isn’t like an ocean, but it’s never really still. Warm water was rippling gently up from Chicago, 100 miles away.

  I gave a huge sigh. ”If you could bottle the peace and quiet out here and sell it, we could retire tomorrow.”

  Joe
chuckled. ”And people think I was stupid to quit practicing law so I could fool around with boats.” He pointed at the shore. ”Can you see the Root Beer Barrel site?”

  “What is there to see, now that it’s collapsed?”

  “I always find it by the old DeBoer house.”

  “I can’t see a thing.”

  “Here.” Joe took my hand and pulled me to my feet. We went to the back of the boat, out from under the sedan’s roof. He put his arm around me, took my right hand in his and used my finger to point toward the Shore. ”Now Do you see it?”

  “Yes. If it’s that tall sucker with all the turrets.”