Death is Semisweet (15 page)

I
can’t carry another package,” Iris gasped.

Heaven smiled. “I’m so glad we did this. I hadn’t done much Christmas shopping. What a good idea you had, to get Hank a tuxedo.”

“Mom, he’ll look like a movie star in it. And doctors do need to dress up occasionally, I would think, especially if they live with the famous Heaven Lee. I need an espresso.” Iris was almost whining.

“You’re right about the first part. He’ll be gorgeous in his new Armani tux. But the famous Heaven Lee part is hooey,” Heaven said with a big smile on her face, obviously complimented. “Let’s go around the corner to Stephanie’s for a coffee drink and some chocolate.” She guided her daughter around a busy corner on the Plaza.

Today was special for Heaven. Christmas shopping with her daughter was the kind of activity she had missed so much in the last few years after Iris had gone off to England for college. As she spotted her own image reflected in a store window she realized she was positively
beaming and almost skipping along beside her daughter. She blushed, embarrassed at her own happiness, and tried to look more sedate.

When the two women opened the door of the Chocolate Queen, Stephanie Simpson slammed down a telephone behind the counter. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you every ten minutes for an hour.”

“And a cheery hello to you too,” Heaven said.

“Hi, Iris,” Stephanie said distractedly. “Come in the back.”

Iris looked longingly at the espresso machine.

“Get a latte and a treat, then come in the back,” Heaven said, getting Iris off the hook.

The store was crowded and Stephanie didn’t say anything until they were down in the basement, a rather dungeon-like place with stone walls and uneven concrete floors. She quickly sent the two employees that were taking a break down there back up to the selling floor, then flung herself in a chair. “Do you remember about two years ago when the couple that owned the bin candy stores got in trouble?”

Heaven frowned. “Vaguely. Was it something about bugs in their candy?”

“Yes, and Stan Kramer did an exposé on Channel Five and—”

Heaven broke in. “Now I remember. There were creepy shots of bugs in those plastic bins. Ugh.”

Stephanie nodded, not looking up at Heaven, her head in her hands. “Yes, and then they went out of business. Broke. Bankrupt.”

“I sure didn’t want to eat any gummy bears out of those bins after that.”

“Well, I’m ruined,” Stephanie said dramatically.

Heaven was beginning to be irritated. “Your store is
full of affluent Christmas shoppers buying things. Why are we talking about the bin candy people and how can you be ruined?”

Stephanie went over to a work counter and pulled a large plastic storage container out from under, sitting it on top of the counter with a flourish. “Open it if you dare.”

Heaven jerked the lid off. The container was full of ten-pound blocks of chocolate. And the chocolate was moving. She peered in the container more closely and realized there were some sort of white worms winding in and out of the chocolate. Lots of them. She closed the top and snapped it shut tightly. “Is it just one tub?”

“I wish,” Stephanie said. “There were four of those and I’ve already thrown away the other three, tub and all. I kept this one to show you and maybe Bonnie Weber.”

“Bonnie? I know it’s upsetting but it’s not exactly a crime. It’s not as bad as stuff I’ve seen in my own restaurant kitchen. Things grow. One fly is left in the whole universe and it finds its way to food and then there are maggots.”

“I do not have maggots,” Stephanie said, practically screaming.

“Look, I think I’m missing something here. And keep your voice down, for God’s sake. The word ‘maggot’ shouldn’t be yelled out in a place that sells food. Whatever the little critters are. Aside from the obvious cost connected with all the chocolate you had to pitch today, no candy you’re selling on the floor was affected, was it?”

“No, but I haven’t checked every single piece of candy. And it will only take one to finish me,” Stephanie
said, refusing to give up her position that ruin was around the corner.

“So be sure and give your employees a good talking to about keeping the lids on these containers sealed at all times.”

“Heaven, we always keep the lids on. Someone came in here and put bugs in my chocolate. That’s the only explanation.”

Heaven immediately thought about Uncle David. “Are these blocks kept down here in the basement?”

“No, in the room upstairs by the selling floor. And I’m sure this chocolate was just fine yesterday. I know it has to do with all these Foster’s problems, I just know it,” Stephanie said with feeling.

“You may be right,” a male voice said from the top of the stairs.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Iris called down.

Together Iris and Uncle David came down the stairs. “This is Stephanie’s uncle, David,” Iris said. “We met upstairs.”

“Yes, we met the other day. David, why did you say you may be right?” Heaven asked, knowing she was slightly rude. Her instincts about this guy were telling her he could sabatoge Stephanie too.

“Because Stephanie may be right. This may be connected to the Foster’s candy drama.” He turned to Stephanie. “I was visiting your mom before I came to work and your aunt called. It seems Janie called home and there’s been a whole batch of chocolate, hundreds of pounds, that suddenly has bloom on it. And the foreman is sure it was fine a couple of days ago.”

Iris held up her hand. “Okay. What’s bloom?”

Heaven knew Stephanie would give a lengthy lecture on bloom so she answered quickly before Stephanie
could. “I don’t know all the chemistry but air and moisture combine somehow and the surface of the chocolate becomes discolored, lighter than it should be.”

“That icky white stuff?” Iris said, wrinkling her nose.

“It doesn’t really hurt the chocolate but it does render it unsalable,” David said and then smiled at Heaven and his niece. “Just because I didn’t get to work in the company doesn’t mean I don’t know about chocolate. It seems someone doesn’t want any of the Fosters in the candy business to have a good Christmas.”

Heaven was sure he had a look of satisfaction on his face as he talked about his family’s problems. They needed another nutty Foster family member like they needed another hole in the head. “That’s it. I’m calling Bonnie,” she announced and no one argued.

E
veryone was talking at once.

Bonnie had agreed to meet Heaven and whoever else she wanted to bring along at Heaven’s favorite Mexican restaurant down on Southwest Boulevard, the Hispanic section of Kansas City. Heaven had insisted Stephanie and David come along and Iris had called Stuart to meet them. Hank came from the hospital only thirty minutes late. Now they had a long table full of food, two pitchers of margaritas, and plenty of opinions. The days’ discoveries, bloom on the chocolate at Foster’s and bugs at the Chocolate Queen, met with mixed reviews from the crowd. Some found it more significant than others did.

Hank took a logical approach. “Both of these things could have occurred naturally. I know it’s a weird coincidence, but the discoloration, the larvae, both could be the product of simple accidents.”

Bonnie nodded. “Hank’s right. Carelessness on the
part of workers could have caused both of them, and I’d be inclined to believe that was the case if there wasn’t the tiny little problem of a sniper taking down the Foster’s airship and killing its pilot, then Oliver Bodden’s murder. When you add them all up, it stinks.”

David Foster turned toward the detective. “But I thought you’d arrested my brother for the Oliver Bodden death. He’s still in jail, isn’t he?”

“No, as a matter of fact, he’s not,” Bonnie said. “He posted bail. That’s the American justice system, you know. Unless the accused is a flight risk bail must be set. And the judge and even the prosecutor didn’t believe your uncle was going to fly the coop. Strong ties to the community, they call it.”

Stephanie held up her hand dramatically. “This doesn’t make sense. Not that I believe Uncle Claude killed that man I found in the conching machine, but even if he had an argument with the victim and somehow things got out of hand and he
did
kill him by accident, Uncle Claude would have no reason to ruin a big batch of his own chocolate or shoot down the anniversary blimp.”

“If he wouldn’t trash his own product, how about yours?” Heaven asked.

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Stephanie said again. “I’ve been open for months and I’ve lived in this town my whole life. Why would Claude wait until he was under indictment for murder to start harassing me? The man’s not stupid.”

“He’s not moral, either,” David mentioned quite caustically.

Heaven’s ears perked up from her chair on the other side of David. Even if Stephanie’s mother and aunt didn’t hold a grudge, it sure sounded like Uncle David
did. “I have news, Bonnie,” Heaven announced.

“I bet you do,” Bonnie said with a weary sigh. This case was getting out of hand.

“I went to visit a friend of mine who lives in that tall condo behind Barnes and Noble on the Plaza. I was hoping he’d been home on the Sunday of the airship attack and might have seen someone up on the roof. He lives in the penthouse.”

“Gosh, Heaven, what a good idea. Why didn’t I think of that the day of the attack? Oh, wait a minute, I did think of it,” Bonnie said, pouring herself another margarita.

“I know you sent uniforms around but they didn’t talk to my friend because he wasn’t home. He went to the Nutcracker Ballet. But as he was leaving the building, there was a Santa Claus with cameras and a camera case waiting for the elevator. He thought the Santa was going to work a children’s party but then later he asked everyone in the building and no one hired a Santa that day, so I’m pretty sure it was the sniper. Those metal Halliburton camera cases could carry a gun,” Heaven said.

“You’ve involved another civilian in investigative work, haven’t you,” Bonnie said accusingly. “He didn’t ask his fellow apartment dwellers until you told him to.”

Heaven waved her hand impatiently. “Dale, my friend Dale Traver, has a natural in, living there. His neighbors were probably much more forthcoming with him than they would be with your people, the uniforms.”

A server arrived with a platter of flaky fried pockets of dough dripping with
cajeta
caramel sauce.

“What are those?” Iris asked.

“Chocolate-filled empanadas,” Heaven said, grabbing one. “It’s a house specialty.”

Bonnie took an empanada and pulled a legal pad out
of her large tote bag and slammed it down in front of Heaven. “Now they’re ‘my people,’ eh? Bull. Write down his name and phone number. I’ll talk to this guy, one of your people. Is there any other little side investigation you’re doing that I should know about?”

Heaven thought about cousin Janie, but decided to keep her mouth shut. That really fell under the body building mysteries area anyway.

Stuart Watts, who found himself in the strange position of not being the center of attention, had been rather enjoying this state of affairs. He’d always gotten a kick out of Heaven and she had definitely not mellowed with age, that was obvious. He reached across the table and touched Iris’s hand. She was talking to Stephanie about lipstick colors. What a dear. He decided to weigh in on this chocolate matter. “Chocolate has an interesting history,” Stuart said. “The Spanish found it in Mexico and it had been used for years down there. The Dutch improved it and then of course the Brits, and others, too, exploited it to the hilt.”

“What do you mean by that?” Iris asked.

“Took it to Africa where they’ve turned it into a big business in the Ivory Coast and other parts of West Africa. But there’s a problem, just like with the other bloody crops that Europeans took a liking to.”

“Like coffee and tea?” Heaven offered.

“Exactly,” Stuart said. “We learn to love this stuff that takes the exploitation of workers to produce. Usually it grows best in nasty equatorial weather, people make little or nothing for working with it. Like the slaves who worked the cotton and sugarcane down in your South.”

“Surely chocolate has nothing to do with slaves?” Stephanie said, uncomfortable at the thought.

“Yes, it absolutely has to do with slaves. They did a big
send-up in one of the London papers just a few months ago. Little boys were sold by their own parents to these middlemen who sold them to plantation owners in the Ivory Coast. Kept them locked up in bloody pens. Didn’t pay them a dime and beat them as well. Makes the old hot fudge sundae rather pricey, don’t you think, in terms of human sacrifice?”

The table fell silent. No one had thought about their chocolate in quite those terms before. Heaven was really irritated that a rock star richer than God was discussing the fate of equatorial workers. He could pay all the chocolate workers out of his own pocket if it really bothered him so much. The slave-labor angle was intriguing, though, she had to admit. “Bonnie, what if the thugs and Oliver Bodden were part of a slave labor ring and somehow the brothers had found out about it and were going to expose them? No, that doesn’t get Claude off the hook, does it. What if Oliver was going to blow the whistle on the slave labor ring back home and the thugs killed him because of that?”

For some reason, maybe the margaritas, everyone at the table thought this was a great idea. Perhaps the idea of evil slave lords from Africa was easier to take than Uncle Claude putting a packing wire around Oliver Bodden’s neck. It was Bonnie who brought the group back down to earth.

“So the slave lords from Africa shot down an airship, killed Oliver Bodden and then started playing dirty tricks on all the chocolate in Kansas City? Busy, aren’t they?” Bonnie said as she stood up and threw down two twenties on the table. “Slave labor is an awful appetite depressant, that’s for sure. But I don’t think it’s at the bottom of our problems here in Kansas City. Everything revolves around the Foster family and so I’m going to
get busy on the phone and insist that everyone who’s in that family and in this town come to Café Heaven tomorrow morning at ten for a little sit down.”