Chocolate Covered Murder (9 page)

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Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Chocolate Covered Murder
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Then, giving her a quick smile, Brad hurried out the door and Tamzin greeted Lucy with a big smile. “What can I get you? A little extravagance for yourself? A gift?”
“Actually, I'm working,” said Lucy, explaining her mission. Tamzin was agreeable and posed for a photo, then told Lucy she had no special plans for Valentine's Day but was hoping that would change.
“I'd hate to spend Valentine's Day all by myself,” she said, with a little pout, and Lucy remembered Barney saying that Max had been obsessed with Tamzin.
“I suppose you miss Max quite a lot,” said Lucy.
Tamzin lowered herself onto a tall stool and hooked her heels over the bottom rung; she looked like she were about to break into song in a nightclub. “We had some fun,” she said, with a shrug, “but that was all. It was nothing serious.”
“But a death like that affects us all. And besides, there aren't that many available men in a town like Tinker's Cove.”
Tamzin's eyes sparkled. “They're all available, honey.”
Lucy was shocked at her bluntness, but had to concede she had a point. “I suppose they are,” she said, deciding she'd better make one thing very clear. “Except for my husband. He's definitely off limits.” She smiled when she said it, but it was a warning, a preemptive strike.
Not that Tamzin noticed; she was lost in her own thoughts. “Come to think of it, I was going to call you. About your daughter, Zoe. Trey has given the okay for her to work here after school.”
Lucy knew Zoe was eager to make some extra money, but she didn't know she'd gone so far as to apply at Chanticleer. She wasn't at all sure Zoe was mature enough to handle a job in addition to school, and furthermore, she was uneasy about letting her work with Tamzin. The woman was hardly a good influence. Lucy didn't like the way she dressed and she sure didn't like her attitude toward men, especially married men.
“I'm not sure Zoe has time for a job, and besides, she's just turned fourteen,” said Lucy, hedging until she had a chance to talk with her daughter.
“Oh, she's already said she'd take the job. I texted her first thing this morning. She's going to start today, after school.”
Lucy felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. She was furious about being sidestepped this way. Tamzin had no business getting a commitment from Zoe before she checked with her parents. After raising four kids, Lucy knew her rights and responsibilities as a parent and she wasn't about to relinquish them.
“She can't start today,” said Lucy, narrowing her eyes. “Zoe's not sixteen, she needs a work permit from the Superintendent of Schools and it takes a few days to get it.”
Tamzin rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.” Lucy looked her in the eye. “The child labor laws are quite clear and I will report any violations.”
“Okay,” said Tamzin, reaching for her phone, “but Trey's not going to like this.”
“Then he can hire somebody else,” said Lucy, turning on her heels and pushing the door open. This time she found the little musical chimes really irritating.
Chapter Eight
L
ucy was so furious with Tamzin that she didn't even notice the sleet and slush as she marched back to the
Pennysaver
office. She plunked herself down in her chair and reached for the mouse, then proceeded to strip off her winter clothing, feeling unusually warm as she clicked away, Googling Tamzin Graves.
“Did you put the heat up?” she asked Phyllis, who was regarding her with amusement.
“I would if I could, but you know as well as I do that Ted freaks out if the thermostat is a hair above sixty-five,” she replied.
Lucy shrugged and stared at the screen, but the only thing that turned up was an announcement that ran in the Portland paper a few years ago reporting that Tamzin had achieved black belt status in tae kwan do at the Maine Martial Arts Academy.
“Typical,” snarled Lucy.
“What's got into you?” asked Phyllis.
“That witch at Chanticleer Chocolate, and witch isn't the word I want to use,” said Lucy, scowling at the computer screen.
“But it rhymes with witch, right?” asked Phyllis, chuckling.
“You said it.” Lucy swung around in her office chair and faced Phyllis. “She hired Zoe behind my back, never even mentioned a work permit. She wanted Zoe to start this afternoon.”
Just then Lucy's cell phone rang and she began digging in her purse for it. After a few more rings, she dumped the entire contents on her desk and snatched it up. “Zoe! I thought you might be calling.”
“Mom, I can't believe you did this to me!”
Zoe's voice was so loud that Phyllis could hear her right across the room.
“I did what I thought best,” said Lucy.
“And now I'm out of a job!”
Phyllis had turned back to her computer, but Lucy knew she was listening to every word.
“They were taking advantage of you,” said Lucy. “You need my permission to work and I'm not going to let you work illegally. These laws are there for a reason. It's easy for employers to take advantage of underage workers.”
“Mom, it's a chocolate shop, not some sweatshop.”
“Then I don't see what the problem is. They can file the paperwork... .”
“Then you mean I can work there?”
Too late, Lucy saw she'd stumbled into a trap. “I guess so. If the permit's approved,” she said, reluctantly. It wasn't really the work permit that was the issue, it was Tamzin. She really didn't want her daughter anywhere near the woman.
“You're the best, Mom. Tamzin's pretty sure they can have everything in order by tomorrow afternoon. She says Trey knows somebody in the Superintendent's office.”
“Oh, great,” said Lucy, with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.
Looking over at Phyllis, she saw her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“It's not funny,” said Lucy, flipping the phone shut.
“I know,” said Phyllis. “It was just your expression. You looked so pissed.”
“I've been advised not to play poker,” said Lucy, already calling Sue. “Have you got a minute?” she asked, knowing that Sue was working and the needs of the kids at Little Prodigies took precedence. “Can you talk?”
Getting an affirmative, she continued, in a whisper. “I was over at Chanticleer Chocolate and I saw Brad Cashman in a, well, compromising situation.”
“Hmmm,” said Sue. “I'll have to check the invoice.” A few moments later, she was back on the phone. “I'm in my office. Exactly how compromising was the situation?”
“I'm not sure,” admitted Lucy. “I think I caught them kissing. They sort of jumped apart when I went into the shop.”
“I've heard she's a real flirt.”
“That's an understatement. She actually told me she thinks all men are available.”
“They probably are,” said Sue.
“How can you think that?” Lucy was shocked. “Does Chris seem upset or worried?”
“No. She's the same as always.”
“Maybe she doesn't know,” said Lucy. “Or maybe it's just the way Tamzin treats every man who comes in the shop. I saw her wrap a box of chocolates and it was about as subtle as a pole dance.” She paused. “Maybe you can give Chris a heads-up.”
“This is awkward—I'll have to think about it. I don't want to cause a problem if there's nothing there, if it's just a little flirting,” said Sue.
“If she knows there's a potential problem she can take action,” said Lucy. “She can cook his favorite dinner and wear a sexy nightie to bed.”
“You think it's that simple?” Sue sounded amused.
Lucy bit her lip. In her experience, men were that simple. She and Bill had been married for over twenty-five years and there hadn't been much that a meat loaf dinner and a scented candle in the bedroom couldn't fix, but maybe she was just lucky. “It's worth a try,” she said.
“I guess I can send up a test balloon and see if she's worried,” said Sue.
“That's a good idea—but you better be careful. Use tact.”
“Of course,” said Sue, sounding a bit miffed. “By the way, have you been thinking about the dessert contest? It's just around the corner. Have you come up with any ideas?”
“Not really. Besides, I'm on a diet.”
“And I told you to make a diet dessert,” said Sue. “There's plenty of recipes on the Internet.” Lucy heard a distant childish wail. “Gotta go,” said Sue.
Lucy sat for a minute, holding her phone and scowling. Things were not going well. She sighed and looked out the window. It wasn't an inspiring sight. The street was filled with filthy snow, the sky was gray, it was so dark, in fact, that the street lights were still on and it was almost noon. She was thinking that if she had a gun she'd probably shoot herself, when she noticed Bill's red pickup truck going down the street. Impulsively, she punched in his cell phone number.
“Hey,” he said.
“I saw you driving by.”
“I'm done for the day. I thought I'd head home and have some lunch.”
“Want some company?”
“Sure.”
When Lucy got home, she found Bill was already heating up a can of soup on the stove and mixing up some tuna salad for sandwiches. A bowl of chips was on the table and she took one, then remembered her diet and put it back. “I hate myself,” she said, collapsing in a chair.
“It's that sort of day,” said Bill, unwrapping a loaf of bread. “Do you want a whole sandwich or a half?”
Despite herself, Lucy was smiling. “I can't believe you remembered.”
“What? I noticed you've been skipping seconds and desserts and only been eating half-sandwiches lately.”
She stood behind him, resting her cheek on his back and slipping her arms around his waist. “I've been trying to exercise, but it's hard this time of year.”
Bill was about to pull some slices of bread out of the plastic bag but stopped. “I know how you can get some exercise,” he said, with a wink.
“I might not have the right clothes, or the right equipment,” said Lucy.
“Don't worry,” said Bill, turning off the stove and taking her hand. “You don't need any clothes—and I happen to know you've got the right equipment.”
“Oo-oh,” said Lucy, following as he drew her upstairs.
 
An hour or so later, Lucy found her mood was much improved as she finished her one-hundred-calorie bowl of soup and half-sandwich lunch. “I'm not happy about Zoe working at Chanticleer Chocolate,” she told Bill, putting down her soup spoon. “I don't think Tamzin is a good influence.”
Bill grinned at her. “What have you heard?”
“It isn't what I've heard—it's what I saw. I caught her in a compromising position with one of our upstanding citizens.”
“As long as he was upstanding, I don't see the problem.” He smiled at her. “Come to think of it, you're no stranger to compromising positions.”
Lucy still felt warm all over. “We're married.”
“Good thing,” said Bill, scratching Libby behind her ears. The dog was hoping a few leftover scraps might come her way. “Otherwise what we just did would be very wrong.”
“I'm no prude ... ,” began Lucy.
“I'll say,” said Bill, with a leer.
“That woman's trouble and I don't want Zoe around her.”
“From what I've heard, she's pretty harmless,” said Bill, clearing the table and carrying the dishes over to the dishwasher. “You can't blame a fellow for looking, especially when you consider what most of the wives around here look like. Even if they've got nice figures, they hide them in baggy sweatpants. They don't even try to look good.”
“That's no excuse for infidelity,” said Lucy.
Bill closed the dishwasher door and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “She puts on a good show, but from what I've heard that's as far as it goes.”
“What about Max? I heard they were seeing each other.” Lucy gave him a look. “I bet you didn't know she's got a black belt in tae kwan do, did you?”
Bill rolled his eyes and grinned. “Don't tell me you think she's some sort of black widow killer?”
“I wouldn't be surprised. She's certainly able to overpower a man, especially a drunk one. And she seems to be morally challenged. Look at the way she went behind our backs to hire Zoe.”
“That's hardly the same thing as committing murder. Besides, I don't think Max was interested in Tamzin. I heard he and Dora were seeing a lot of each other.”
Libby gave a little yip, and Bill looked out the window as the mailman drove up to their box. “Mail's here.”
Lucy watched as he went down the driveway, without his coat. Men were so silly. And blind. Didn't he see it? If Max had left Tamzin and gone back to Dora, Tamzin would have been hurt and angry. Maybe even angry enough to kill him.
That afternoon, instead of simply parking out front and waiting for Sara and Renee, Lucy went inside Fern's Famous, hoping to have a word with Dora about Max. The police might consider his death an accident, but she wasn't satisfied and she knew Dora had her suspicions, too. But instead of Dora, she found Flora behind the cash register. Her salt and pepper hair was cut in a neat bob, gold granny glasses perched on her nose, and she was wearing a red-and-white-striped smock with the Fern's Famous logo embroidered on the pocket. Her complexion was fresh and smooth, belying her sixty-odd years, and Lucy wondered if chocolate had something to do with it. Dark chocolate, anyway, was supposed to promote good health.
“The girls'll be out in a minute,” she said, with a little nod. “Dora's got them packing up Valentine's Day orders.”
“I'm not in a hurry,” said Lucy, glancing around the shop. Unlike Chanticleer Chocolate, with its mood lighting and artful displays, Fern's was bright and white and the trays of fudge were kept free of contamination in a huge glass case. The atmosphere was almost clinical, and a vintage poster with two apple-cheeked children and a smiling Holstein nibbling a daisy declared,
WE USE ONLY THE PUREST FARM
-
FRESH INGREDIENTS
.
“Sara's a good worker,” said Flora, pulling out a tray of penuche and realigning the little cubes with a gloved hand.
“That's nice to hear,” said Lucy. “How's Dora doing?”
“About like you'd expect, I guess,” said Flora. “Lily's the one I'm worried about. She really misses her dad. They spent a lot of time together.”
“I didn't know that,” said Lucy. “I guess I thought she'd be closer to her mom.”
Flora slid the tray back in place. “Oh, she is. They had shared custody, so she spent time with both of them. I don't approve of divorce, but I have to say they were very amicable. They got along better after the divorce, really, and I have to give Max credit for being an excellent father. He taught Lily to fish and hunt and ski, turned her into a real outdoors person.”
Lucy thought of the beautiful, ethereal girl she'd seen in the shop so often. “She looks so fragile,” she said.
Flora laughed. “That fragile creature is a hell of a shot. We've been eating venison all winter, thanks to her. And she didn't just shoot it. Max made sure she hung it and dressed it proper.”
Lucy figured her own girls' reaction to a job like that would be a big
Eeeuw
.
“She's a good cook, too,” continued Flora. “Not only killed the beast but cooked it, too. Ragout, she calls it, but I think it's just a fancy word for stew.”

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