Fudge and Marriage

Book 13: Candy-Coated Mystery

by Nancy Coco

Genres: Female Sleuths

Synopsis

Only two things might ruin fudge maker Allie McMurphy’s wedding: murder—and her mother . . .

June is always beautiful on Mackinac Island, which is why Allie chose this month for her wedding to police officer Rex Manning—definitely Mackinac Island’s finest in more ways than one. But if her mother has her way, that’s the last choice Allie will get to make. Allie’s the furthest thing from a Bridezilla—but it looks like she has a Momzilla on her hands. Why else have her mother and extended family shown up a full two weeks before the nuptials to drive Allie to dizzying distraction?

Honestly, a murder investigation is far less stressful—and as it happens, Allie just found Velma French dead on the ground beside the rock that killed her, with her rival Myrtle sobbing nearby. Things don’t look good for Myrtle, but all may not be what it seems. Allie vows to solve the crime before she walks down the aisle. But a killer has other ideas—and they seem to be focused on Allie herself . . .

Praise for Nancy Coco and the Candy-Coated Mysteries

“An enjoyable character-driven whodunit that mixes murder with a touch of romance and the requisite sweet treats.” —Kirkus Reviews

“Exciting, compelling . . . intriguing . . . one of my favorite places to visit, especially when Allie makes fudge!” —Open Book Society

Includes mouth-watering recipes!

Help support pet adoption—see details inside.
 

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 336

Sample

“Allie.” Alice Huff, head librarian at the Mackinac Island library, didn’t sound surprised to see me.

“I’m returning these books,” I said, lifting the beautiful, full-color books on wedding planning, choosing flowers by their meanings, and more. “I’m going to have a look in the library list to see if there’s anything else.” I placed four books and six thick bridal magazines in the return pile. Thank goodness for a library card. Without it, I may have gone broke by now.

Alice was a warm-hearted, welcoming person who lived for books and loved to help patrons. She lived in St. Ignace and enjoyed baking, ensuring there was usually a plate of cookies at the desk for everyone, but only if you were leaving with your books in a bag. Everyone knew she’d remove your cookie privileges if she ever saw you with a cookie and no protected books.

She shook her head at me, her crisp gray bob swinging from side to side and her blue eyes twinkling. “You’ve been checking out everything we have on weddings for the last six months. When’s the ceremony?”

“Two weeks.” I know I blushed five shades of red because I could feel the heat slowly rise in my cheeks. I thought the whole island knew that the wedding was in two weeks. With my involvement in the community and the fact that my fiancé was Rex Manning, the lead policeman on the island, everyone was invited. It’s why we decided on an outdoor wedding. My best friend and maid of honor, Jenn Carpenter, had worked it out that everyone but the family would bring their own chair, if they wanted, and others could stand in the back. The reception was to be a giant potluck, while Rex and I paid for a caterer to barbecue steaks and handmade hamburgers, as well as brats, and even provide savory pasties as the meats for the meal. Already the senior ladies had planned a potato salad competition.

June was a lovely time on Mackinac Island, with sweet smelling flowers blooming everywhere, including our iconic lilacs. It’s why I picked the Saturday before the Lilac Festival. I would have picked the Saturday of the festival, but that was a busy day at the McMurphy Hotel and Fudge shop, and the entire island, if I was to be honest.

“Two weeks,” Alice said, her head tilted, her right eyebrow lifted, and it felt like she was laughing at me on the inside, but her expression only held concern. “Then why are you still devouring every wedding book and magazine available since 1959?”

“There are many details,” I explained, half-embarrassed and half-desperate. “I’m not sure I’m making good decisions, and the books help me narrow down what I like. I never thought about ever getting married, let alone having five hundred people attend, and the worst part is my mom. She will scrutinize everything, down to how white my teeth are. That’s a lot of pressure.”

Alice held her hand to her heart. “Sweetheart, you are a bride of the island. I know we specialize in beautiful destination weddings, but no one here expects your wedding to be a royal affair. We have a lot of experts on weddings. They’re helping, aren’t they? Because if they aren’t . . .”

“They are helping,” I reassured her quickly. “And I think it’s going to be beautiful.”

“Then why are you still looking at books and magazines?”

“If I know my mom, and I do know her, she expects it. She’s been trying to convince me we should have a private reception at the Grand Hotel, where there would be linen tablecloths on the tables, fine china and silver, and cocktails before with a trio of violins and a cello. Then a five-course meal followed by cake and champagne.”

Alice laughed. “That doesn’t sound like you or Rex. As for the rest of us, all we care about is that you’re happy, in love, and that your marriage lasts a lifetime. The rest will take care of itself. Besides, don’t you have Jenn as your wedding planner?”

Jenn was my best friend and a marvelous event planner. Ever since I’d begged her to come for my first summer and help me, she’d shared my office on the fourth floor of the McMurphy. On top of all that she also had a baby boy who would turn one soon. “Yes, and I’m afraid I’ve been driving her crazy. She has suggestions and decisions she wants me to make, and all I do is freeze.”

“And study wedding books and magazines.” Alice patted my hand. “If it makes you feel better, go on and see what’s new at the lending library, and I’ll see if I can get it here before you get married in two weeks.”

“Thank you!” I waved and hurried to the computer. I knew in my heart that weddings aren’t as important as marriage. But I also knew my mom’s pride in being part of upper-middle-class society, and her expectations for her only child’s wedding, which had me running in circles. And while this was Rex’s third wedding, it was my first and definitely last.

I felt even more pressure because I was embraced as a local by most of Mackinac Island’s society. The whole island was invited, and my parents and my entire family, some coming all the way from Florida, plus my parents’ friends and business associates—thanks, Mom—and then there was Rex’s family and any extended family, all of whom I hadn’t met yet. Good or bad, I represented the island, and they hadn’t said anything, but I knew the businesses hoped most of them would be charmed enough to come back and spend their money or plan their own family weddings here. Everyone hoped that people would talk about it for years.

No pressure there, I thought sarcastically.

Then there were my finances for what my mom still called my “little business” to think about. Even with my newly trained fudge maker, I needed to shut the fudge shop down until the Tuesday after the wedding. And, while the McMurphy was all booked up, it was filled with relatives, my parents’ friends, and everyone else my mom invited. The rooms were all comped. Otherwise, my mom would die of embarrassment. I would lose a quarter of my revenue this month.

It’s no wonder I couldn’t stop reading wedding books and magazines, second-guessing all my decisions.

I heard a noise and glanced over to see the side door to the library closing. Shrugging, I drew my attention back to the library computer in front of me and searched the database. As I finished the first page of scrolling, I heard two women arguing. I leaned around the computer to see if I could spot who it was on the other side of the stacks. Although the building was small, it was still a library, and the librarians tried to keep it quiet. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see anything from my vantage point. They had to be a few aisles away, and if I got up, it would appear that I was far more interested in a fight than my wedding, and I wouldn’t have that bad luck.

Audrey Davis, the associate librarian, who had beautiful brown skin, kind eyes, natural hair, and a welcoming personality, hurried over to where they fought. As their voices grew louder and louder, I couldn’t help but listen. “Ladies,” Audrey said, her voice calm yet insistent as a schoolteacher’s. “Please keep it down.”

“I requested the newest craft book,” I heard one woman say. “It wasn’t in my reserved books pile, and when I got here, she had already taken it.”

“First come, first served.” The second woman sounded familiar, but then again, I had a pretty good relationship with all the seniors, and even the first lady’s voice sounded slightly familiar. “Besides, this book hog has been reserving all the new craft books and then keeping them for weeks. This time, I am going to read one first.”

“No, you’re not. It was on the shelf, and I got it first.”

There was the sound of a scuffle.

“Ladies!” Audrey used what I could only describe as a principal’s voice. “If you don’t stop fighting, I will give it to the four other people who have requested it before we’ll lend it to you two.”

The fighting stopped, but I could hear grumbling. Suddenly, there seemed to be a race to the section of books for sale, which, if I leaned back, I could see.

It was Velma French and Myrtle Bautita who had had the fight over the craft book, and now it seemed like they had elbowed each other to grab books off the top shelf, which held the newest books for sale. I knew both ladies through my interaction with the Senior Center, and I knew Myrtle was a good friend of Irma’s. The rivalry between Velma and Myrtle went back decades, and no one remembers why it began. In fact, I don’t think even the women remember why.

I’d never seen two women grabbing up as many books as they could hold to keep the other from finding something they wanted.

“Ha, ha!” Velma raised two books in the air and waved them under Myrtle’s nose, her gray curls swinging and a vicious smile on her face. “This is the latest Karen Dionne, and it’s signed!” She hugged it to her chest and waved the other book. “And, even better, this one is by Anissa Gray, and it’s a first edition!”

Myrtle appeared defeated. “I’ve been wanting those for ages, and you know it.”

“Too bad, so sad,” Velma gloated, waving her books. “I got them first, and they are going into my private collection.”

“Until you die,” Myrtle replied. “Then they’re going to have one big rummage sale. I can’t wait.”

“Humph,” Velma sniffed and turned on her heel toward the front desk, where she could check out the books she selected and pay for her treasures.

Myrtle sighed and sat down at the computer next |to me.

“That was kind of mean,” I said softly.

“I know. She didn’t have to wave them under my nose,” Myrtle said.

“I meant telling her that when she died you were going to buy them from her estate rummage sale.”

“Oh,” Myrtle said, rolling her brown eyes and waving the thought away. “She knows I didn’t mean it.” Then she looked down at the computer in front of her. “Sheesh, it’s like Velma to not return the computer to the home page.” She scrolled a bit. “What on earth was she doing on the Social Security site? Everyone our age knows our retirement benefits forward and backward. Well, at least we should.” She scrolled through websites for five minutes and then deftly put the screen back on the home page and stood. “She should be gone by now. Bye, Allie.”

“Bye, Myrtle,” I said and went back to scrolling through the list of bridal books and magazines that might get here within two weeks. I sighed. I’d read them all. I turned off the computer, grabbed my book bag, and strolled to the front of the library.

“Did you find anything?” Audrey asked.

“No,” I said, trying not to sound defeated.

“That’s for the best, don’t you think?” she asked kindly. “Try to enjoy the experience. It only comes once in a lifetime.”

“I’ll try,” I said with a half smile.

“Wait,” Alice said. “Here, you may need this book on slowing anxiety with meditation.” She held out her hand, looking for me to hand over my library card. I gave it to her. “This works wonders for me when I start to worry about details.” She handed me my card back, along with the book. “I’m sure it will work for you when you get overwhelmed.”

“Thanks.” I put the book in my book bag and stepped out into the blue sky and the sounds of birds and lapping water from the lake.

The library itself was built to attract locals and fudgies who wanted to spend a few hours reading. A beautiful mint-green Greek Revival building with white columns and trim, it sat near the shore. There was a boardwalk that took you past the tiny, white house-shaped sign with the library’s hours on it. But one of my favorite things was the brass sculpture of two young children enjoying a book. Thick bushes ran along the side, allowing for shade so that you could read on one of the benches undisturbed by the park next door.

As I walked beside the bushes, I noticed Velma’s precious craft book on the ground. I bent to pick it up and brush it off. As I rounded the other side of the bushes, I noticed three things at once. Myrtle’s books were also scattered on the ground. And Velma lay flat, her head turned to the side, bleeding horribly. Beside her was Myrtle on her knees, rocking back and forth keening softly.

I rushed to her side and bent down to see if I could help Velma with my first-aid skills. They weren’t needed. Velma’s skull was bashed in to the extent that I knew she had to be dead. Still, I did my duty and reached for a pulse along her neck. There wasn’t even the slightest glimmer of a pulse. That’s when I noticed a large rock beside Myrtle. It was covered with blood and gray hair.

Then a man came around the corner of the library with a fishing pole in his hand. “Velma?” he asked and dropped the pole. “Velma!” He rushed to her side and started to shake her as if to wake her.

“Don’t touch her! She’s gone,” I said. “And the police will need to look for evidence on anyone here who touched her.”

“No! Not my Velma!” he put his face in his large, calloused hands. “My sweetheart!”

I deduced he was Velma’s husband. As I reached for my phone to call 911, Irma and Carol came hurrying over. The pair were always together and thick as thieves. Carol ran the Senior Center and half the senior committees. While Irma was always there to assist.

“We heard shouting,” Irma said.

“Then we saw Velma on the ground and Myrtle beside her,” Carol said. “Is everything okay?”

“My Velma is gone,” the man sobbed. “And that horrible woman killed her!” He pointed toward Myrtle, causing her to cry even harder.

“Now, Richard, you can’t make assumptions like that. None of us know what happened, and it’s not always what it looks like,” Carol said. “This must be hard and shocking, but you are not alone.” Carol comforted him by putting her hand on his shoulder. “We are here with you.”

Irma reached out and squeezed Myrtle’s hand. “Are you okay? Do you want me to go get Brian?” When Myrtle shook her head, I stood, stepped away, and called 911, but not before I saw someone watching from the bushes. They saw me and closed the bushes quickly.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“Hi, Charlene, it’s Allie McMurphy,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and walked toward the bushes.

“Where are you?” she asked. “I’m contacting the police and ambulance for you now.”

“Better contact Shane as well,” I said. “We’re outside the library.” Shane was Jenn’s new husband and the county’s crime-scene investigator. I’m sure Jenn fell in love because of his nerdy good looks and his slim, but muscular build. She told me once she found the way he pushed his hair out of his face endearing.

“Done,” Charlene said. “What happened?”

“I came out of the library and found Velma French on the ground with her head badly damaged. There was a large rock nearby with part of her left on it.”

“Oh, dear, not Velma. She was always a sweet woman and baked the best brownies.” Charlene sighed. “Whatever you do, don’t let anyone touch that rock.”

As she said that, I turned to see Velma’s husband angrily kick the rock, and it rolled into the lake. “Darn thing can go straight to the bottom of the lake!” he shouted.

“No!” I yelled and dropped my phone. All I could think about was that the murder weapon was in the lake, with evidence washing off. I rushed past him and waded into the water. It couldn’t have rolled far. Velma was a few yards from the beach. I spotted it as pieces of hair and blood started to drift off in the current, grabbed it, and pulled it out of the water, not sure I would be able to preserve any evidence. I didn’t have gloves on, and neither did Velma’s husband. As I turned from the lake, I saw that the scene was charged with anger and sorrow.

“That rock should be crushed and ground up to dust, and so should you!” Richard lunged toward Myrtle. Carol ran in front of him, with her hands out, while Irma sheltered Myrtle.

“Stop!” Carol shouted, her purple tracksuit and blindingly white shoes catching his attention and causing him to pause.

Thankfully, Rex, my fiancé and the island’s lead police officer, and Officer Charles Brown rolled up on their bikes. Charles dropped his bike and grabbed Richard by the arms, pulling him back and cuffing him. “You need to cool down,” Charles told him sternly. “Sit here until we can assess the situation.” Richard still looked angry, but he did as he was told.

More people stopped to see what had happened, trampling the crime scene. I wasn’t any better than they were when it came to the crime scene. Here I was holding the rock in both my hands with my cell phone on the ground in front of me. Having touched Velma and then called 911, I would be lucky if they didn’t keep the phone. Hopefully, all Shane would have to do is remove the case. With the wedding so close, I hoped I didn’t have to order a new one as soon as I got home.

“Alright, everyone, step back,” Rex said, with such a tone of authority that people moved. Charles pushed the crowd back and staked and rolled out crime-scene tape, while Carol and Irma helped Richard and Myrtle to the edge of the crowd. Both sobbed, with their hands covering their faces. Rex looked at me next. “Allie?”

“I think this may be the murder weapon,” I said, holding out the wet rock. There were still a few spots of blood and a hair or two.

“What the heck?” Rex looked from the rock to me.

“Richard angrily kicked it, and it rolled into the water.”

Rex looked up at the sky and, for a moment, closed his eyes. “You saved it from the water.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Well, I couldn’t let the evidence wash away,” I said softly.

He looked at me with annoyance, then love, in his eyes. “I’m going to need you to hold that until we can get a big enough evidence bag or Shane arrives.”

“I had Charlene call him, too,” I said, as the ambulance rolled up, its lights and sirens running. The ambulance and the fire truck for emergency response were the only motor vehicles allowed on the island. Everything else moved by horse and buggy, bicycle, or walking. I personally preferred to walk.

Head EMT George Marron stepped out. George was the type of man who made women sigh with his copper skin and long black hair pulled back to enhance his high cheekbones and sensuous mouth. Of any of us on the island, his ancestors had been here the longest, making us all fudgies of a sort. Leah Harrell, his partner of the day, closed her door behind her and headed to the back. George opened the back of the ambulance and hauled out their medical bags, then rushed over to Velma. We all knew, and I suspect they did, too, that she was gone. I’m not known for calling in people they can actually help, although I wish it were true this time.

The yellow crime-scene tape left the growing crowd to watch from afar and whisper about whether or not Velma was dead, and who would do such a terrible thing to such a nice lady.

Carol sat on the ground next to Richard, far enough away to not be able to see much and to the side, where they couldn’t hear the murmurs of the crowd. Irma and Myrtle sat on the opposite side of Velma, close to the crime scene. George checked Velma out and shook his head to confirm that there was nothing they. . .