Chocolate Covered Murder (17 page)
Read Chocolate Covered Murder Online
Authors: Leslie Meier
“Be like that,” muttered Sue.
Lucy ignored her. “How's Chris? Are she and Brad okay?” Lucy was feeling guilty about mentioning Brad to the police.
“I think they'll be just fine, now that Tamzin's out of the picture.”
“I wonder,” mused Lucy. “Did the cops question Chris? She had a motive, after all.”
“They did,” said Sue. “But she had an alibi. We were together Thursday night, working late, writing up student reports.”
“How late did you work? She could've gone to the shop afterwards and knocked off Tamzin.”
“No way. Brad took the SUV that day because of the weather, so she didn't have a car. He dropped her off in the morning and I drove her home that night.” She paused, clearly remembering something. “In fact,” she said slowly, “the lights were on at Chanticleer when we drove by and I remember thinking it was awfully late for anybody to be in the store, especially since they don't actually make the chocolates there. I even looked at the clock in the car. It was a little past nine.” She shuddered. “Do you think that's when the murder took place? Isn't that creepy?”
“Yeah,” said Lucy, wondering if the police had established a time of death for Tamzin's murder.
Sue's eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, I saw... .” She immediately turned toward Sid. “Don't forget the mike, okay?”
He nodded and continued arranging chairs.
“What did you see?” asked Lucy. “Or should I say, who?”
Sue was looking down at the floor. “Dora. I saw Dora,” she whispered. “She was right in front of Chanticleer.”
“Are you sure? What was she doing?”
“Nothing, really.” Sue was hugging herself. “For all I know, she was just walking down the street. But I did say something to Chris about it. Like, how come she wasn't walking on the other side of the street, some stupid crack like that.”
“And Chris probably told the cops.”
Sue nodded. “I feel sick about it.”
“It's not your fault.” Lucy squeezed her lips together. “I'm sure the police have other evidence.”
“I don't think Dora is a murderer,” said Sue, “but we did see her near the scene of the crime.”
“Poor Dora. This explains a lotâit seems she had means, motive, and opportunity,” said Lucy, realizing a little seed of doubt was sprouting in her mind. “Well, I gotta run. See you later, Sid,” she called, heading for the door.
Outside, in the car, she thought about what Sue had said. It certainly didn't look good for Dora. She was probably the only person who had the skill to paint a body with chocolate, and witnesses had seen her at the shop the night of the murder. But as Sue had said, they didn't actually make the chocolates at the Tinker's Cove shop. The copper bowl and the marble-topped table and the other candy-making equipment were just for show. If Dora was the killer, she would have had to bring the chocolate that was used to paint Tamzin's body. How did she do it? And why did she bother? And what happened to Tamzin's clothes? When you thought about it, there were a lot of unanswered questions about the murder.
When she parked in front of the dry cleaners she noticed Trey's Range Rover was also parked on the street; maybe she'd get a chance to ask some of those questions. She hurried inside, hoping to catch him before he left, but there was no need. He was waiting patiently at the counter for the clerk to find his clothes.
“Hi,” said Lucy, standing next to him and digging in her purse for the little green receipt. “I'm awfully sorry about Tamzin.”
“Thanks, Lucy,” he said, in a solemn voice.
“Three-three-oh-four-five, here it is,” proclaimed the clerk, a gray-haired woman in her fifties, coming around the wall of hanging, plastic-bagged clothes. “Misplaced,” she said by way of explanation, setting Trey's boxed shirts on the counter. “I didn't realize you wanted them boxed.” She made it sound like an unreasonable request. “That'll be eight dollars and forty cents.”
Trey handed over a ten dollar bill and turned to Lucy. “I'm still in shock, if you want to know the truth. Poor Tamzin. She didn't deserve this.”
“Shocking,” said the clerk, counting out his change. “I told my boss, there's no way I'm staying here after dark. I'm closing the shop at three-thirty. Folks'll just have to come early.”
“It's hardly the sort of thing you'd expect in a little town like this,” said Trey.
“It's outrageous! We've had two murders, right here in town.” The woman's chin shook with indignation as she shut the cash drawer. “You can't be too careful these days.”
“That's for sure,” said Lucy, handing her the green slip of paper and turning to Trey. “I know they arrested Dora Fraserâdid the police tell you why they suspect her?”
“Pretty obvious, don't you think?” replied Trey. “Tamzin was dating her ex, and then there's the fact her business was suffering due to Chanticleer's success... .”
“Those don't seem very compelling to me,” said Lucy, as the clerk hung Bill's suit on the rack. “You're not really in competition with Fern's Famous. You attract an entirely different clientele.” She paused, remembering how he'd touted the truffles as an affordable luxury, a status symbol. “I mean, you're selling a lot more than chocolate.”
Hearing this, Trey's expression hardened, but Lucy didn't give it much thought. She was digging in her purse for her wallet.
“If you ask me, anybody who kills somebody else must have a screw loose,” the clerk was saying. “I won't rest easy until she's locked up for good. That'll be eight seventy-five.”
Lucy was thoughtful, handing over a twenty. “I suppose the police think she killed Max, too.”
“I wouldn't be surprised,” sniffed the clerk.
“Dora's sure made a lot of trouble for me. I don't know when the cops are going to let me reopen,” said Trey. “And I have to find a new store manager.”
Lucy couldn't believe it. Was the man out of his mind? A woman was dead and he was complaining about losing business. “What about Tamzin's family? Have you been in touch? What are the funeral plans?”
For a moment, Trey seemed at a loss. “I haven't really ... I mean, I don't actually know. I'll have to check with HR.” He pulled out his iPhone and began texting. “It's early days yet, of course, but the company will help any way we can.”
Lucy didn't know what she expected. Sure, there had been rumors about Trey and Tamzin having a relationship, but that didn't mean it was true. Maybe he really was nothing more than her employer. She took Bill's suit off the rack where it was hanging and turned to go, discovering that Trey was holding the door for her.
“Hey!” called the clerk. “Don't forget your change!”
“Oh, right,” said Lucy, embarrassed at her mistake. She went back to the counter and Trey continued on his way; she heard him slam the door of the Range Rover before speeding down the street.
The clerk handed Lucy her money. “You know, I thought he and that woman were real close. He was at the shop a lot, and sometimes they left together, when she closed.”
“Really?” Lucy was tucking the cash into her wallet.
“Yeah. I have a clear view from here,” said the clerk, nodding toward the plate glass window.
Lucy turned and discovered it was true. The WCVB truck was parked directly opposite, blocking her view of the drugstore, and a reporter was being filmed standing on the sidewalk in front of Chanticleer Chocolate.
“They seemed awfully affectionate,” continued the clerk. “She'd be holding his arm and he'd open the car door for her, like a real gentleman. I even saw them kiss a couple of times.”
“Not to speak ill of the dead, but I heard Tamzin was a very affectionate girl,” said Lucy.
“That sort always gets in trouble,” said the clerk, clucking her tongue.
Leaving the store with Bill's suit, Lucy wondered about Trey and Tamzin's relationship. They had seemed quite friendly when she'd interviewed them, but she hadn't really thought anything serious was going on between them. Now it seemed she may have underestimated their relationship. Or maybe the clerk had overestimated it. Two good-looking people, single, working together. It wasn't like they were kids or anything, they were a man and a woman and these things happened. It didn't necessarily mean they were truly intimate and involved in each other's lives.
And Tamzin wasn't shy about making her availability known. She might even have been using her sexuality to advance professionally. She certainly wouldn't be the first woman who'd slept her way to the top. And, to his credit, Trey had seemed shaken by her death.
Maybe he was still in shock, she thought, carefully hanging Bill's clean suit inside the car. A sudden loss could make your mind play tricks, make you forget details. She remembered how she'd struggled to remember appointments and keep the family on track after her mother died. Come to think of it, she was still struggling, but now it was just due to an overpacked schedule.
Lucy slid behind the wheel and consulted her list. Next stop: the post office. She had a box of books and clothing that Elizabeth had asked her to send to her in Florida.
Lucy was thoughtful, wondering if some small choice might have changed the direction of Tamzin's life and saved her from her terrible fate. If her mother, perhaps, had insisted she dress more modestly, or if her father had encouraged her to study harder and become a professional. What if she'd become a doctor instead of a chocolate shop manager? What if she'd taken another path and become a famous actress? Could she have changed her destiny? It was impossible to know; she didn't really know anything about Tamzin's background. She didn't know if she'd slipped down the social ladder, or if working at Chanticleer Chocolate was a step up; she had no idea what obstacles Tamzin had faced.
Lucy was wondering what information Tamzin's obituary might provide when she rounded the corner by the Quik-Stop and saw an ambulance with its lights flashing parked by the air machine. Slowing for a better look, she saw her friend Barney sitting on the raised concrete slab that protected the gas pumps, with his head in his hands. What was going on? She pulled off the road and parked, then hurried to his side. As she approached she saw he was crying; tears were rolling down his crumpled bulldog face.
“Barney! What's the matter?”
He looked up, blinked, and brushed at his eyes with his gloved hands.
“It's Eddie,” he said.
Lucy looked around and spotted Marge's car, which Eddie had been borrowing, parked by the Dumpster, apparently undamaged. A sudden wail of the siren indicated the ambulance was leaving; she watched as it departed, lights flashing. A police cruiser remained, and Officer Todd Kirwan approached with a sympathetic expression.
“They're taking him to the hospital,” he said, leaning down and touching Barney's shoulder. “They think he's going to make it.”
Barney nodded, but made no effort to move.
“What happened?” asked Lucy.
Todd turned to her, speaking softly. “It's his kid. Just back from Afghanistan. He OD'd.”
“Eddie? On drugs?”
Todd nodded. “Heroin. He was shooting up, we found the needle.”
Lucy's eyes widened. Now Frankie's suspicions about Eddie and Lily didn't seem so ridiculous. But what a terrible waste. She knew drugs were a problem everywhere, Tinker's Cove included. She'd seen the number of arrests rising, she'd written a number of obituaries for young people who didn't seem to have much going on in their lives but had loved animals, had lots of friends, and died unexpectedly of unexplained causes. She'd had her suspicions but somehow she'd managed to insulate herself. She'd been in denial, thinking drugs were something that happened to other people. She had never been personally affected, until now.
“It's everywhere,” said Todd.
“Come on, Barney,” she said, taking his huge hands in hers. “I'll give you a ride to the hospital.”
He looked up at her. “I've got to get Marge.” He shook his head. “How am I gonna tell her?”
“We'll go together,” she said. “Where is she? Home?”
Barney seemed to be struggling to remember, trying to see through his fogged emotions. “She was taking a cake to that dessert contest.”
Good heavens, thought Lucy, thinking of the now-crowded church hall, filled with happy, busy volunteers getting ready for the contest. Poor Marge! She'd just gotten her son back, safe and sound, from the war and now she might lose him. It was too cruel.
“Come on,” she said, tugging at Barney's hands. Slowly he rose to his feet.
“You go back to the station, file the report,” he told Todd.
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