Some Like It Fudgy

Book 14: Candy-Coated Mystery

by Nancy Coco

Genres: Female Sleuths

Synopsis

Allie McMurphy lives the sweet life running her world-famous fudge shop on Mackinac Island—but when a killer strikes, she has to turn from creating confections to extracting confessions . . .

TAKING A BITE OUT OF CRIME

As a gesture of goodwill, Allie is bringing a tray of assorted fudge to her new husband’s ex-wife, Melonie. But she finds Melonie’s body on the floor of her photography studio—where a remote-controlled camera keeps snapping picture after picture. In one, she’s alive, and in the next, she’s dead.

While Rowan Giles, another visitor to the shop, chatters nervously—and incessantly—Allie dials the police, though she encourages her husband to leave the case to another officer. Several unidentified people were leaving when she arrived on the scene. Nevertheless, Rowan is the top suspect, thanks to one thing she didn’t talk about: her bitter relationship with Melonie. Was Rowan just stirring the pot with all her gossipy gabbing?

Allie’s not so sure. She’s learning about some dark secrets in Melonie’s past. And identifying an obvious suspect is one thing, but finding the truth is a whole other kettle of fudge . . .

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

“Bearding the lion in her den, I see,” Frances Devaney, my hotel manager, said. Frances had her brown hair cut short. Her wide-set brown eyes seemed to be able to see into the hearts of others. Today she wore a turquoise-blue T-shirt and a white flowy skirt with a turquoise pattern, along with her usual tennis shoes.

“That’s a very weird saying,” I answered. “I’m only going to try to be nice to a neighbor.” As a newlywed, things were so rosy that I thought it might be a good thing to make nice with Melonie, my husband’s ex-wife. After all, she’d become the new manager of the Old Tyme Photo Shoppe, right next door to the McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop. The McMurphy had been owned and run by my family since it was built in the 1870s. Now it was my turn, and I loved nothing more than making fudge and giving fudge demonstrations while telling my Papa Liam’s stories to the crowds.

After my ten o’clock demonstration, I gathered up a five-slice box of fragrant fudges, from Traverse City Dark Chocolate Cherry to Melonie’s favorite, Rocky Road. At least, that’s what I’d been told by the seniors I hung out with. They should know. They knew everything.

I didn’t expect a warm welcome and even braced myself for her to knock the box out of my hands. It’s why I went close to lunchtime, when her shop was full and she couldn’t really make a scene.

“As long as she lives next to us, we should at least be civil.”

“Good luck with that,” Frances said, without ever looking up.

I sighed, knowing she was probably right. But I had to try. I hung up my chef’s coat, then ran a hand over my hair, which I’d pulled up into a high bun, hoping the natural waves stayed in place this time. Then I waved to my assistant, Roxanne Jones. With her intelligent brown eyes and silver-streaked brown hair that she wore in a bun, the older woman proved invaluable to the fudge shop. She was an avid baker and had been quick to learn my fudge-making techniques. Now she was able to help on her own when I needed a day off. She took care of everything the week I got married, and for that I would be forever grateful.

Taking a deep breath, I pasted on a smile and walked out the door of the McMurphy.

The Old Tyme Photo Shoppe specialized in portraits of people dressed in Victorian costumes. The costumes were provided in the back, along with two dressing rooms. The front of the shop looked like an old apothecary shop as an acknowledgment to the fact that film and cameras were generally sold in pharmacies. The studios were behind the window display and discreet. If I remembered right, once you went inside, you saw a modern camera set up with various scenic backgrounds rolled up or down, depending on the costumes the customers picked. Behind the screens were the costumes and the dressing rooms.

I walked in to the sound of tinny, old-time music. Swallowing my trepidation, I stepped into the small studio waiting room only to hear the camera clicking and clicking. I waited for the shoot to be over. It was the polite thing to do, but after five minutes, I got worried. No one ever took so many photos in a row. I stepped around the corner. No one was getting their picture taken. Confused, I looked at the camera—and then to the floor.

There was Melonie. She wore one of her costumes and stared straight up. I put the fudge on the cash-register counter and hurried to her side. Carefully, I shook her, but she didn’t respond. Checking for a pulse, I put my ear near her mouth to see if she was breathing.

No pulse. No breath.

“Is she okay? Because she looks dead,” a woman’s voice said over my shoulder.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I’d been concentrating so hard on Melonie that all I’d heard was the click and the sound of the flash. The killer could have come out of nowhere and killed me, too. “She’s dead,” I replied, then stared at the surprising woman and the beautiful Great Dane sitting beside her with no leash on.

We studied each other for a minute or two until the other woman said, “Oh! Oh, no, I wasn’t here when it happened. The door was open, and Finn uncharacteristically came in.”

“Who’s Finn?” I asked, waiting for another person to pop in.

“Oh, um, Finn’s my dog. He’s very well trained and, you know, loves kids and pets and wildlife. He basically loves anybody. And when I heard the constant pop of the lights and clicking of the shutter button, I thought someone might need help.” She paused and stared at the body. “Not, you know, first-aid kind of help”—she stumbled for her words—“I’m a photographer.” She lifted the expensive camera around her neck. “Semiprofessional. My degree is in culinary arts, but I also studied photography at NYU in my spare time. I enjoy taking pictures, of pets and wildlife mainly.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Newbies often have equipment problems, but she’s beyond help. Isn’t she? Wait, is that Melonie Strausberg? I guess she has a different last name now. She’s been married at least twice. Anyway, I didn’t realize this was her shop. Last I heard she was in Texas or some other warm place. Oh, my goodness, I’m rambling. To be fair, I’ve never seen a dead body before, except, you know, when my great-great-grandma died. Oh, and my great-aunt Helen, my great-uncle Harry, on my mom’s side. Then there’s my great-great-grandpa on my dad’s side, my Aunt Mary, and my mom, of course. But never up close and, you know, dead. It’s weird, I can almost see the little x’s on her eyes like in the cartoons. Only her eyes are open.” She took a deep breath and gave me a half smile. “See, I ramble.”

It took longer than I hoped to sort out the important information from her babbling. “It’s okay,” I said. “I passed out when I found my first body. We all react differently.” I stood, watching her every move. “Did you know Melonie?”

She moved her head from side to side as if she was going to say, “sort of.” “We went to school together for a while. But usually, Aunt Annie and Auntie Charlene kept me up-to-date with my old classmates. Auntie Charlene told me that Melonie’s first husband was a horrible man, and Melonie came back home to be safe after the divorce. Then, within a year, Aunt Annie said that Melonie had married again, this time to a guy with a movie character name.” The woman looked up at the ceiling, tapping her chin in thought. “Some movie, some movie, some—Oh! I have it. Empire Records! Anyway, Aunt Annie said Melonie had married a Rex Manning—like the character in the movie, and now the movie’s this kind-of cult thing, and some people even have a Rex Manning Day. Have you ever heard of that?”

“No,” I said, half-curious about the movie, half-horrified that people actually celebrated Rex Manning Day. “I’m going to call nine-one-one now.”

“Okay,” she said, then nodded and glanced around, her dog sitting quietly beside her. Then it was as if she’d remembered something. “Oh, I have a camera. Is it okay if I take some, you know, crime-scene photos for Shane?”

I looked at her, surprised and concerned. First, she knew Melonie, now she knew Shane. Was this going to be one of those situations where everyone knew her except me? “You know Shane?”

She seemed to calm down while she snapped photos in a careful, thoughtful way, from one side of the room, clockwise to the other, along with the floor and the ceiling. The beautiful dog remained at her side. “We went to school together,” she said between snapping pictures, then paused, looking around to see if she’d missed anything. “After graduation, I got into New York Culinary Institute, while Shane went to Michigan State. We haven’t really kept in touch, but Aunt Annie tells me he got married to a lovely transplant from Chicago, I think, and now has a baby boy.”

“Gotcha,” I said wondering if she was nervous-babbling because she had something to do with the murder and was inserting herself into the investigation. None of this was helping Melonie, so I dialed 911.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, Charlene,” I said.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, who is it this time?” Charlene asked. “I’m keeping a tally.”

“Charlene!” I chided her. “What if I just wanted to see if you want to get a coffee sometime? It would be nice to meet you in person. Also, Melonie Manning is on the floor in the Old Tyme Photo Shoppe. I’m pretty sure she’s dead.”

“I would love to get a coffee with you soon, but seriously? Rex’s ex-wife number two?”

“Yes, that Melonie Manning,” I said calmly. “Charlene, please send Rex and the usual crew and let them know to hurry. People are gathering at the door. Also, get Shane here ASAP. There’s a woman here—”

“Rowan. Rowan Giles,” the woman said loudly as if I were deaf.

“Rowan Giles,” I repeated. “She’s taking photos of the crime scene.”

“Rowan? Really? Goodness, I haven’t seen her for close to ten years,” Charlene said. “What’s she doing at Melonie’s? Everyone knows they’ve been ignoring each other after that thing in fifth grade.” I gave Rowan a curious look and couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to keep two people apart in such a small school. “Can you put her on?” Charlene asked.

“Charlene wants to talk to you.” I handed her my cell phone. It seemed odd that she had appeared right when I found Melonie dead and then took pictures of everything. Were the pictures meant to distract Shane from other evidence?

“Auntie Charlene, hi,” Rowan said with a smile, letting her camera fall against her as it hung from its thick strap. “I’m good. How have you been? Really? Yup, I did work in New York, but I met someone, and now I’m back. No, I didn’t know Melonie worked at the Old Tyme Photo Shoppe. Who am I dating?” I watched her flawless, cream-colored skin with a touch of freckles across her cheekbones blush from the neck up. “Lochlan Forester—yes, I know.” Her blush grew deeper, and her eyes avoided me. “Oh, yes, we should catch up, but right now probably isn’t the best time.”

Rowan handed me the phone, but Charlene had already hung up.

“‘Auntie Charlene’?” I asked.

“My mom’s best friend,” Rowan replied, still blushing. “I call her Auntie, but we’re not related.”

“Charlene told me you went to school with Melonie, too. I didn’t know she lived up here. I thought she moved here later,” I said.

“She did live here for a while, but she moved away our junior year. I don’t know where.” She shrugged. “We weren’t the best of friends.”

Someone popped their head in, and Rowan snapped her fingers and pointed at the door. Her beautiful, merle, gray-blue dog went straight to the door and blocked anyone from coming in before I could even open my mouth. I love my sweet little bichonpoo, Mal, but she wasn’t quite so obedient. She was, however, very friendly and treated everyone like they were part of the family. Everyone except for killers. Somehow she always knew whom not to trust.

“I’m so sorry,” Rowan said. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Allie McMurphy … er Manning,” I said, and she stuck out her hand, so I shook it.

“Manning and McMurphy? What a coincidence,” Rowan said. “You and Melonie have the same last name. You must have married someone in the same family as Melonie’s second husband. Small islands are like that, I guess—only so many people to marry and all that. And McMurphy? Why, Finn and I are staying at the McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shop next door for the next week. Is that, like, a family place?”

“Yes, it’s been in my family since it was built. I’m the current owner.”

“That’s so amazing,” She couldn’t seem to stop herself from babbling. “Wow, I mean, I was so happy to find your hotel. Most hotels won’t take Finn, even though he’s well trained.” She brushed her curly red hair out of her face. I was strangely envious of her hair. It wasn’t an orange red, but instead a deep reddish-brown with highlights of lighter red that shone in the light. Then there were those curls—real curls. While mine was simply wavy, not straight or curly, and mostly frizzy. That’s why I tended to keep it in either a bun or a ponytail.

“I have a little bichonpoo who has free range of the hotel,” I said. “I don’t believe the size of the dog matters as much as the dog’s behavior,” I added. “Just out of curiosity, did you see anyone when you entered? Besides Melonie and me, of course.”

“I saw five people,” Rowan answered. “In the back room. I assumed they were dressing for the next picture, but then they stepped out in street clothes. One left out the back, but all I saw was dark hair and a blue T-shirt. The other four seemed to have come together. One of the other men headed for the front door, saw Finn, and turned around. They all took the back door out. Which is odd. I mean, I have to assume they paid, because she didn’t have the back door locked or alarmed. Which she should have done, anyway. You never know who could slip in while you’re working. It’s not safe.” Rowan glanced at Melonie. “I guess she found that out the hard way, didn’t she?”

I cleared my throat. “Would you know them if you saw them again?”

“The four of them? Maybe. Finn will help, of course. He’s got a keener sense of sight and scent.”

There was activity outside the shop. “Brown, get these people back, and Davis, set up a perimeter,” I heard my new husband, Rex, say. “Hello, dog. I’m going in. Good dog.” Rex walked around the corner and looked at Rowan with his policeman eye for detail. “That your dog?”

“Yes, that’s Finn. Isn’t he so smart?” she said with the love of her dog clearly showing on her face. “I told him to guard the door so that no one would get in.”

“He let me in,” Rex said and glanced over his shoulder.

“Oh, of course, he does know the difference between a civilian and a policeman. He was rescued from a horrible situation as a pup by two policemen,” she explained. “He’s loved them ever since. He can even tell a law enforcement person in civilian clothes. There’s something about them that he can sense.”

“Smart dog,” Rex said, then turned back to us, his expression fierce when he saw his ex-wife lying there. “Melonie?” he asked as he looked at her body with sadness. The camera still clicked, and the lights still popped.

“Yes,” I said. “Are you okay?” When he didn’t answer, I pushed a little further. “Maybe you should sit down until the shock wears off.” I grabbed a stool and brought it to him, then gently pressed him down until he sat. “Um, maybe you should let someone else be in charge of the case. She was an important part of your life.”

He didn’t stop staring at Melonie. “Brown!”

“Yes?” Charles stepped into the scene. “Is that …”

“Melonie,” Rex said. “Have Davis keep the crowd back, and for goodness’ sake, turn the darn camera off.”

“She’s probably lying on the remote switch and has to be turned over,” Rowan said, with Finn now at her side. “You should wait. Oh, are you Melonie’s ex-husband, Rex Manning? I heard you two divorced over Melonie’s hatred of cold and snow because you love it here, and you refused to be a snowbird. Which makes sense, if you’re a police officer and work here year-round. I bet it’s hard for police officers to be snowbirds. So, I totally understand.”

Rex turned toward her. His jaw was tight, and a muscle at the bottom twitched. His beautiful dark blue eyes narrowed, and his mouth formed a firm line. I took a step and put my hand on his shoulder. “This is her first murder scene, and she tends to babble,” I told him.

“Oh, yes, sorry, I do tend to babble when I’m faced with surprises. And let me tell you, this was a surprise, since I’ve never seen a dead body in real life before. Except for, you know, relatives who’ve died—”

“Let’s not get into that right now,” I said gently. I kept a light touch on his shoulder, reminding him that, while he was torn up and angry, I wasn’t going to let him take it out on the woman. He relaxed a bit at my touch, and his jaw loosened. It was barely noticeable. So subtle that only his wife would know.

The most interesting part of the whole interaction was that Rowan wasn’t even the least little bit intimidated by him. And trust me, my husband could be intimidating. He looked like an action hero, from his bald head to his wide shoulders and well-muscled arms and chest. Put that together with his well-pressed, perfectly tailored police uniform and add the gun on his belt; it rarely got more intimidating than that. He turned slightly to Officer Brown. “Where is Marron?”

“On his way,” Charles answered. Charles was around six feet tall, with broad shoulders. He was big-boned, with light brown hair and dark brown, hooded eyes. Even though he was popular with the young women on the island, he tended to date off the island and was very private about his life. I always wondered if he simply hadn’t found the love of his life and didn’t want to hurt anyone he’d have to see every day he did his rounds.

Most of the time, the police stuck to the crowded tourist areas to ensure people didn’t walk in front of a horse-drawn vehicle, and the pedestrians and bicyclists gave the carriages and wagons plenty of room to get their work done.

“You need to take the case,” Rex said.

I knew it was hard for him to give a case over to a junior police officer, but Charles was very capable, and Rex knew he was too biased to do a good job.

George Marron walked in, pulling a stretcher with his new EMT, Henny Pilgrim, pushing the back end. George had copper skin, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw that made all the women stare. He was an excellent teacher, and the county always sent him the new EMTs to train and then switch out. George didn’t seem to mind. When he saw who was on the floor, he said, “Well, that’s not good.”

“No,” I answered. “It’s not.”

At that moment, we heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs from the apartment above. Finn moved in front of Rowan and growled softly, letting us know he wasn’t happy about this situation.

A man with a plumber’s tool kit around his hips and a red toolbox filled with plumbing supplies in his right hand hit the bottom of the stairs. “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

Maybe he did, I thought. But most likely, he didn’t. And if Finn’s reaction was to be believed, this guy knew more than he let on.

The Perfect Mix Cookie Recipe

(Peanut Butter, Oatmeal, and Chocolate Chip)

Ingredients

2 teaspoons of cinnamon

¾ teaspoon of baking soda

½ teaspoon of baking powder

¼ teaspoon of salt

1¼ cups of flour

½ cup of white sugar

½ cup of brown sugar

½ cup of peanut butter

½ cup of butter (softened)

1 egg

1 teaspoon of vanilla

1 cup of oatmeal

2 cups of mini chocolate chips

Directions

Preheat oven to 350°F.

In a medium-size bowl, mix together the cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, salt, and flour and set aside. In a large bowl, cream sugars, peanut butter, and butter. Add egg and vanilla. Mix until incorporated. Carefully mix in dry ingredients. Add oatmeal and chocolate chips. Stir by hand until incorporated. If it’s sticky, refrigerate for 1 hour. Roll into balls.

(I prefer not to make all the cookies at once. After I roll the balls, I put them in the freezer for two hours, then place them in freezer bags and bake fresh cookies when I want them.)

Bake for 6 minutes. Pull out of oven and use a fork to flatten them. Bake another 10 minutes for a total of 16 to 18 minutes (12 to 15 if you prefer softer cookies) or until golden brown. Remove from cookie sheet while still warm, taking care not to crumble them. Place on baking rack until cool. Enjoy!

Makes two dozen cookies or less, depending on what size you prefer.

“Rex, honey, come home with me,” I said and put my hand on his shoulder. “You’ve had a shock, and you should come lie down on the couch. I’ll put a blanket over you and get you some tea. Mal and Mella will sit with you.”

“No, I’m fine,” he said without even glancing at me. “I need to watch and make sure the team does everything by the book. I want to catch whoever did this and see them go to jail for life.”

I gave EMT George Marron a meaningful look. He whispered something to his assistant, who left and came back with a thick blanket.

“Thanks,” I said as I draped the blanket around Rex, doing my best to keep him warm.

“You’re welcome,” Henny said. She was a short woman, nearly as wide as she was tall, but it was pure muscle. I think she could lift at least two human beings, maybe even a small horse. She went back to helping George examine Melonie to determine any exterior cause of death. The coroner’s office was not on the island, and sometimes he came, but most of the time, he relied on George to help with the details of time of death and how the victim died.

Shane walked in, glanced at the scene, and went straight over to Rex. He set down his kit and squatted down to look Rex in the eyes. “How ya doing, buddy?”

Rex looked at him, his gaze still stunned. “I’m okay.”

Shane stood and patted Rex’s shoulder. “Sure, you are, buddy. Sure, you are.” He looked around at everyone and spied Rowan. Shane’s eyes widened along with his smile. “Rowan!” He stepped toward her.

“Hello, Shane,” she said with a matching grin. They hugged hard.

I took note, cautious on the one hand and upset . . .