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Authors: Nancy Coco

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BOOK: All I Want For Christmas is Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes Book 4)

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“Marley’s in good hands,” Allie reassured Eliza. “If you need time to collect yourself before you collect him, I can call the puppy day care and see if they can keep Marley overnight.”

“Oh, no,” Eliza said, and stood placing Mal on the floor. “I need Marley now more than ever. I’m going to get him from the day care. I’ve asked Karla and Bill to stay out at the cabin with me.”

“Do you think that’s safe?” I asked.

Eliza looked at me a bit confused. “Yes, why wouldn’t it be?”

“There’s some evidence that Tim might have been killed near the cabin,” Allie said.

“But I thought they said you found Tim along the running trail.”

“I did,” I said, “but it looks like he might have been tossed down the hill and rolled to the spot where I found him. Allie and I went to see and that’s how we found Marley. Marley actually showed us that the door to your cottage was open. That’s when we noticed the obvious signs of struggle.”

“No, that’s not right,” Eliza said, frowning. “My family has owned that cabin for over one hundred years. We’ve always been safe there. Always.”

“I’m certain you still will be,” Officer Manning said as he stepped into the lobby of the McMurphy. “We’re pretty sure Tim was targeted. So everyone can relax. There’s no mad serial killer on the loose. I’m certain you will be fine up at your place. But I can have a police officer come by every few hours, if that will make you more comfortable.”

“That would be great,” Eliza said. “I’m going to go get Marley.”

“Don’t forget to tell Rex about Tim’s stalker,” Allie said as she gave Eliza a hug and handed her a care package of lasagna and fudge.

“Tim had a stalker?” Rex narrowed his eyes at Allie as if to say she should leave police business to him.

Allie raised her eyebrows at his tone. “She just now remembered.”

“Come on,” Rex said, putting himself between Eliza and us. But first he petted Mal on the head as she did a little pirouette to greet him. “You can tell me about the stalker while I walk you to pick up Marley.”

We all stood as Rex moved away from us with his police hat in his hands. The man cut a fine athletic figure in his uniform. Too bad I was into tall, skinny, nerdy guys. I warmed at the thought of Shane and then frowned. He still wasn’t talking to me. I’d have to remedy that soon if I was going to salvage my Christmas.

Chapter 5

Tim’s death had put a damper on the Santa pub crawl that night—at least for me and Allie. Nevertheless, plenty of people were out in Santa suits, using the tickets they bought to have a couple of drinks in each of the participating pubs.

Allie and I and Trent made a short night of it in an overcrowded bar called the Nag’s End.

“Hey,” I said, catching Allie’s attention, “is that Eliza’s friends the Golds?” I motioned toward the handsome black-haired man standing with a small woman, with raven locks, beside him. They ordered drinks and headed to a table in the back. I craned my neck to see that Eliza sat at the table. “Eliza’s here, too.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Allie said.

“We should go say hello,” I said, and stood.

Trent frowned. “Whoa, wait. Maybe they need some time alone. I know I would if anything happened to Allie.”

“That’s just it,” Allie said, standing with me. “If anything had happened to you, I certainly wouldn’t be out at the pub. Look at Bill. He’s wearing a Santa hat. And if that’s Karla with them, she is, too. It seems out of place.” Allie picked up her beer. “We should go say hi.”

Trent frowned and touched Allie’s wrist as she headed off. “Don’t stick around too long. I don’t like the idea of grieving at a pub.”

“It’s called a
wake,
” I said to Trent. “People do it all the time. Why don’t you come with us?”

“This place is getting packed,” Trent said. “I’ll stay here and hold down the table. That way you can use me as an excuse to come back.”

Allie kissed him. “Fine, this won’t take but a moment.”

I locked gazes with my dear friend and we snaked our way through the jolly Santas to the grieving Eliza in the back corner.

“Hi,” I said as we approached. I wasn’t sure if she would remember us considering all that she had gone through today so I reintroduced myself. It’s always better to be safe than sorry when it came to people remembering your name. “Eliza, it’s me, Jenn Christensen, and this is Allie McMurphy, remember?”

“Yes, hello again,” Eliza said, seeming to perk up.

I gave her a hug and Allie followed. I noticed how Bill watched us, seemingly protective of Eliza.

“Hi, I hope you’re doing okay,” Allie said, and introduced herself and me to the Golds. “You must be Bill and Karla.” She shook hands with the handsome man and gorgeous woman. Karla seemed bored by us. Her perfectly made-up face held a bland expression.

“Jenn is the one who found Tim,” Allie said, and watched them for their reaction.

“Man, that must have been bad,” Bill said, and took a swig of his beer. “We went with Eliza to identify the body.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Karla asked. Dressed in crisp, dark-wash jeans and a red sweater set, she wiggled uncomfortably in her seat. “This is a horrid little island, isn’t it?”

“Oh, my! No,” Allie said. “Mackinac is really a Victorian paradise. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Bill put himself between us and Eliza. “Listen, we only came to get something to eat. Eliza would really like to be left alone.”

“Right,” I said, and gave Allie a look.

“I understand,” Allie said to Eliza from around Bill’s shoulders. “Please let me know if you need anything . . . anything at all.”

“She will,” Bill said, and put his arm around Eliza.

Allie and I headed back through the crowd to Trent. “Did you notice that?” Allie asked.

“Yes,” I said. “He seemed far more interested in Eliza than in his wife.”

“I remember them from the night before,” Allie said as we reached Trent. “I thought Bill and Eliza were the couple. It’s pretty clear he has a thing for her.”

“If he does, Karla doesn’t seem to see it,” I said. “Either that or she doesn’t mind.”

“I’m ready to go if you are,” Trent said. He stood and grabbed Allie’s coat from where it hung on the back of her bar chair.

“Yes,” Allie said as he helped her put her jacket on and then helped me with mine. Before we even moved away from the table, a pair of blond girls swooped in to snag it for themselves.

“I hope you don’t mind,” one said, and smiled, flashing her dimples. She wore a red-and-white Santa hat and a sexy Mrs. Claus dress.

“Not at all,” Trent said. Trent Jessop was a solid man, drop-dead gorgeous with a chiseled jaw and a moneyed look that made women’s heads turn. It was no wonder that cute pub-crawling girl flashed him her dimpled smile. We heard a sudden commotion from over where Eliza sat.

We all turned to see a heavyset man in his forties trying to talk to Eliza. Bill stood between them and had his hand on the man’s chest as if to ward him off. Trent headed toward them. Allie and I followed. The guy wore jeans, boots, a plaid shirt, and a puffy vest. His round head was bald, and he had a Santa hat in his hand.

“I just want to give my condolences,” the new guy said.

“You’ve done enough,” Bill said, and gave the man a small shove. “Leave us alone.”

“Can I be of service?” Trent asked, his chest spread wide, and he stood on the balls of his feet as if ready to take action. To me it was a clear signal that Trent was ready to step in if needed.

“No, no, I’m leaving,” the guy said, and he held up his hands in surrender. I noticed that his blue eyes were watery. He looked like he’d been drinking for a while. “I just wanted to give the little lady my condolences. Slater might have been a jerk, and a terrible winemaker, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

“She doesn’t want your condolences,” Bill said. “As far as I’m concerned, that restraining order you’re under goes for Eliza, too. You need to get out of here and stay at least one hundred feet from her. Do you hear me?”

“Sure, sure,” the guy, who I assumed was Albert Gray, said, holding up his hands. “I’m going.”

Trent stepped between them. “I’ll see that he leaves.”

“What do you care?” Albert asked.

“I own this property,” Trent said. “I don’t want to see any trouble.”

“Fine, fine,” Albert said, deflated. We watched as Trent escorted the gentleman out.

“Is that Albert Gray?” Allie asked. “Tim’s stalker?”

“Yes,” Bill said. “I know his beef was with Tim, but Tim made sure the restraining order said he has to stay away from Eliza, too.”

“He has some nerve, coming over to you like that,” I said.

“Keep an eye out for him, Bill,” Allie said. “Albert’s a person of interest in Tim’s death.” She turned and put her arm through mine. “Come on. Let’s follow Trent out. I have a few questions for Mr. Albert Gray.”

I felt a stab of apprehension. “Don’t killers like to return to the scene of the crime?”

“Sometimes,” Allie said as we wound our way through the crowd.

“By the way,” I said into Allie’s ear, “did you know Trent owned this place?”

“Not exactly,” Allie said, and made a dismissive motion with her hand, “but I’m not surprised. His family owns half the businesses on the island.”

We stepped out of the bar and into the quiet cold of Main Street. The crowd of Santa pub crawlers spilled out, laughing and joking and stumbling to the next destination. Trent stood next to the door, talking to Albert.

“You’re under a restraining order?” Trent asked. He stood with his legs apart and his arms crossed over his chest like a bouncer.

“It’s no big deal,” Albert said, sneering. “Tim Slater sold me some bad wine. I did some complaining on the Internet, and then he slapped me with papers.”

“It takes a lot more than that to get a court order,” Allie said.

Albert rolled his eyes. “I didn’t like the guy. He was a wise mouth.”

“Did you kill him?” Allie asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring Trent’s stance.

“What? No, I didn’t kill him,” Albert said, and his expression showed surprise at the question.

“Do you have witnesses to prove it?” Allie asked.

“What are you, the cops?” Albert scowled.

“Why are you on Mackinac?” Trent asked. “Did you know Tim Slater was here for the run? Did you knowingly violate the restraining order?”

Albert ran his hand over his bald head. “No, I didn’t.
Sheesh.
Look, I have a buddy with a cabin on the island. He asked me if I wanted to come up for the holiday and do the pub crawl.” Albert shrugged. “I like beer. I’m up for an adventure, so I said yes.”

“When did you get here?”

“I flew in yesterday,” he said. “Like I told the cops, all you have to do is ask that pretty pilot gal. She’ll tell you. I got here after Tim was killed.”

“So you’re telling us, it’s a coincidence that
you
showed up and Tim was murdered,” Allie said.

“Purely coincidental,” Albert said. “I swear. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got tickets for beers at the Boar’s Head.”

“Stay out of trouble,” Trent warned him. “If I hear you have been causing any further hassles, I’ll see that you’re never allowed on Mackinac Island again.”

“Yeah, right,” Albert muttered, and turned on his heel. We watched him cross the busy street to the Boar’s Head, which was three doors down from the McMurphy.

“Come on,” Allie said. “I’ve got sugar cookies and chocolate martini fixings at my place.”

“It’s certainly less crowded,” I said, noting the growing numbers of people in Santa suits.

“I’m going to stop at the Boar’s Head and put a bug into the bouncer’s ear,” Trent said. “By the end of the night, Mr. Gray won’t be going anywhere without someone keeping an eye on him.”

We watched Trent work his way through the crowd. People stepped aside as he went. “Trent really commands the street,” I observed.

“Yes, he does,” Allie said, showing a sweet smile of pleasure. “Oh, hey, is that Shane?”

“Where?” I glanced around. Allie looked toward a figure going into the grocery store. “Oh . . . yes, it is,” I said.

“Are you going to go talk to him?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “He acted pretty cold this morning.”

“Maybe he was all business because of the crime scene.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, and bit my bottom lip.

“Go on, talk to him,” Allie said, giving me a little push. “I’ll get the cookies and martinis ready. You can ask him to come up and join us.”

“Okay,” I said, raising my head high. It wasn’t like me to skulk about or ignore someone just because they were standoffish. Besides, part of the reason I returned to Mackinac was to see Shane. It would be silly not to take this opportunity. I straightened my Santa hat and headed into Doud’s Market.

I found Shane rummaging among the cold drinks. He wore a black winter parka over jeans and hiking boots. His hair was cut short and he had on those black horn-rimmed glasses that magnified his blue eyes and made my knees go weak.

“Hey, I thought that was you,” I said, trying to be nonchalant. “How are you, Shane?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. Then he went back to the drinks and pulled a six-pack of lemon-flavored water out. “Jenn.” That was all he said.

I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. My puffy vest pooched out. The silence was deafening. So I filled it. “Did you get the crime scene processed?” I asked. “I tried to do a good job of keeping the dog away from the tracks.”

“It’s fine,” he said, and walked past me to the counter where Mary Emry was working.

“Oh, good,” I said. I looked away when Mary raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you staying on the island? Allie is offering cookies and chocolate martinis if you want to come up tonight.” Okay, so that was awkward, but, hey, I was trying here.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Shane asked as he gave Mary a ten-dollar bill. She rang him up in silence and gave him change and his receipt.

“What do you mean? Of course it’s a good idea,” I said. “Food, fun, alcohol, good company—what’s not good about it?”

Shane turned on his heel, the waters in his hands. “So you expect we should pick up where we left off . . . as if you never left.” His gorgeous gaze was flat.

“Sure,” I said, and drew my brows together. “We’ve been in touch. Right? I mean, I haven’t heard from you much lately, but that doesn’t mean anything . . . unless you’re seeing someone.. . .” I tried to keep breathing while I waited for the answer.

“Have a good night, Jenn,” he said, and walked by me as if I were a mere acquaintance. The worst part was he didn’t answer my question. I watched as he headed down the street in the opposite direction of the McMurphy.

“Was it something I said?” I asked Mary.

She ignored me and went back to reading the latest tabloid, which sat open on the store counter.

I blew out a long breath and followed Shane out—only I went in the opposite direction. I had a sudden urge to drown my sorrows in chocolate martinis and sugar cookies.

The next morning I convinced Allie to go jogging with me. As my best friend, she was game to keeping me company, but as a runner, she needed more conditioning.

“Oh, my goodness!” Allie stopped at the first-mile marker and breathed heavily, holding her side. “How do you do this?”

“Practice,” I said. “It’s harder, actually, to run with someone. When you are alone, you can set your own pace. When you jog with someone else, you spend a lot of your time trying to match the other person’s pace. This either pushes you or slows you down, so it’s probably harder because you’re running with me.”

“I don’t think I’d call this running,” she said as she drew in a ragged breath. “It probably qualifies as walking fast.”

I did a lap around her. “Well, yes, it could be walking fast, if you were actually moving.” I teased her. “Try breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

“Ugh, that’s hard,” she said after a couple of tries.

“I’ll slow it down,” I said. “Really, you should be able to talk while you exercise or you are anaerobic and do more harm than good.”

BOOK: All I Want For Christmas is Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes Book 4)

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