Oh Say Can You Fudge (11 page)

“No. Actually, I’m putting the finishing touches on the trim of the lower level of the B & B.” Luke wore white painter’s jeans, a T-shirt, and a white shirt over that with his name embroidered over the pocket and had a plastic bucket with various paint brushes inside it in his right hand. “Pete turned the formal parlor into a business center. He needed the room painted and the trim painted white to match the rest of the interior trim. He also wants me to come back this fall and paint his hallways.”

“Wait. Pete put in a business office? What’s in it?”

“A few computers and a printer,” Luke said.

“Really? Does he get much call for a business office?” I asked.

Mal tugged on her leash. She wanted to go under the fence so badly and greet Luke.

“I think he is trying to compete with the new Grander Hotel,” Luke said.

“Crazy about the fire,” Sophie said. “Were you here when it happened?”

“No, I’d gone home about half an hour before it broke out. I hear your puppy discovered it.” He glanced at Mal who had given up on the hole and jumped on the fence begging for him to reach over and pet her.

“Yes, she got under the fence through this hole,” I said. “It’s why I bought supplies to fix it.” I held up the chicken wire.

“You should make Pete fix it,” Luke said, drawing his eyebrows together. “It’s his fence, right?”

“Pete’s not exactly speaking to me,” I explained.

“He blames her for the fire,” Sophie added.

“Well, that’s plain silly,” Luke said. “I heard through the grapevine it was an electrical fire.”

“Either way, the siding is going to need to be replaced and painted to match—which means more work for you,” I said with a smile.

“Speaking of work, I’d better get to it.” Luke lifted his bucket to emphasize his words.

“See you,” I said and turned toward the McMurphy. “I bet Sherman was looking for his dad last night.” I opened the back door of the McMurphy and let Mal go. She gathered up her leash and raced off to find Frances.

“I bet that’s it,” Sophie said. “The kid is a bit of a shy one, typical teenager, though, slouching about. Luke did some work out at the airport. Sherman came to see him every day.”

“Aw. Luke must be a good dad for his teenage son to want to hang around with him.”

“He’s a nice guy. His wife is a real sweetheart. In the summers, she works part-time for the Grand in the event planning area so I see her a lot.”

“Who are we talking about?” Frances asked as she stood up from taking off Mal’s leash and harness.

“Luke Archibald,” I said. “He’s painting trim on the lower floor of the Oakton. Pete put in a business center for his guests.”

Frances frowned. “What business person wants to stay at a B & B?”

“That’s what I was thinking.” I put down my bag and chicken wire. “It’s not like they have to print off plane tickets when they leave.”

“I think offering Wi-Fi is too much,” Frances said as she went back to her perch behind the reservations desk. “People come to Mackinac to get away from all that Internet stuff. They want to unplug and experience another, more genteel way of living.”

“And here I thought they came for the fudge,” I said with a laugh.

Sandy was working in the fudge shop. The candy counter shelves were full and she was working on chocolate centerpieces for a wedding.

“It does smell good in here,” Sophie said.

“Frances, have you met Sophie? Sophie, this is Frances. She is my hotel manager.”

“You’re the pilot, right?” Frances held out her hand.

“Yes,” Sophie shook Frances’s hand. “We’ve met before a couple times.”

“I thought so. Pretty gutsy being a female pilot.” Frances looked over the top of her red reading glasses at Sophie. “Good for you.”

“Thanks. I don’t see it as gutsy.”

“She was born into it,” I said. “Like me and the McMurphy.”

“‘Some people are born into greatness,’” Frances quoted with a smile.

“‘Some people have it thrust upon them.’” I finished the quote and picked up the bag with the cat food. “I bought stuff to fix the fence. Can you have Mr. Devaney do it? We’re going upstairs for beignets and coffee. Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“I’ll let Douglas know,” Frances said. “You realize that he will tell you that it’s Pete Thompson’s fence.”

“I know,” I laughed. “Tell him I want to do it anyway.”

“Fine.” Frances waved us off. “I don’t need anything. You two go visit. Take that little rascal with you.”

Mal wagged her stub tail and raced up the stairs in front of us.

“Mal loves to show off the apartment,” I said as we climbed.

“How’s the puppy feel about the cat?” Sophie asked.

“I’m sure the cat will grow on Mal or at the very least Mal will grow on the cat.”

Sophie laughed. “Somehow, I imagine it isn’t Mal you have to worry about.”

Mal stopped a few steps ahead of us and wagged her tail at us as if to say hurry up. I think Sophie was right. Mal got along with all creatures. I just hoped the cat felt the same way.

Chapter 11

“So I have some interesting information,” Liz MacElroy said as she leaned over the candy counter.

It was after five
PM
and the big crowds had begun to thin out. I was cleaning up the kitchen and setting up for the morning.

Liz had her dark hair pulled back in a thick braid. She wore a pale blue tank top under an open khaki camp shirt, a pair of jeans, and thick hiking boots.

“Spill,” I demanded, my eyes lighting up. “Is it about the explosion?”

“Better, it’s about Rodney Rivers. My research uncovered a couple threatening notes in his e-mail.”

I paused in the middle of wiping down the cooling table. I wasn’t going to tell her that Shane had told Jenn about the threats on Rodney’s phone. I’d learned to keep my mouth shut about investigations when talking with Liz. “How?”

She grinned and her blue eyes sparkled. “I know someone who can hack through anything.”

“Is that legal?”

“It is if he works for the police.”

“Oh.” I nodded. “An inside job.”

“Yes. A girl has her friends.”

“And knows how to bribe people,” I said with a laugh.

“That, too,” Liz agreed. “Anyway, Rodney owed some not very nice people money and he was getting threatening e-mails and text messages.”

“You don’t think his death was a mob hit or something, do you?”

“Here on Mackinac?” Liz shook her head. “No, no mob hits, but my source says that the threats led them to send Rivers Productions accounting to forensics for an audit.”

“They do forensic audits?” I asked and made a face. “Why?”

“To see if anything fishy was going on in the business.”

“Oh.” I pursed my lips. “Does that mean that Rodney’s partner Henry might be in danger?”

“That or if he’s hiding anything, it could be a motive for murder.”

“Let’s hope not. I still need someone to light the fireworks for the shows and Henry can’t do that if he is in jail.”

“Or dead.” Liz frowned. “When did you last see the guy?”

I froze. “Oh, no no no.” I turned to her. “I need him. He can’t be dead.”

“Maybe he’s not dead. When did you last see him?”

I tossed my cleaning cloth into the sink and pulled off the pink and white striped apron I wore. “It was yesterday. He was here to let me know about the insurance. He’s supposed to be staying at the Hamilton. I left him a message but he never called.”

“Let’s go over there and see if we can find him,” Liz said.

“I agree.” I hung the apron on the hook in the metal corner that held the glass walls in place. “Frances, I’m going out with Liz for a while. Can you keep an eye on the fudge?”

“Sure,” she said, not looking up from her computer. Sometimes when things were slow, Frances played games like Candy Crush or Farmland. I suspect that’s what had her engrossed at the moment. “Take Mal with you, would you? She needs a walk.”

As if on cue, the puppy came racing over. She stopped and slid across the floor until she hit my legs with a
humph
.

“You little nut,” I said and picked her up.

She kissed my cheek, her stumpy tail wagging fiercely. I grabbed her pink halter with the white hearts on it and her matching pink leash. She stepped into the halter and I snapped it closed then hooked the leash and grabbed some poo bags from the box near the coatrack where we kept Mal’s things. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Liz had her hands in her pockets and watched us, bemused. “You sure do love your pup.”

“Yeah, she keeps me out of trouble,” I said and then thought about it. “Mostly,” I qualified.

Liz laughed.

We walked down Main and turned down a side street to hit Market and the streets beyond. The Hamilton was one of many lovely summer cottages that had been built in Victorian times, complete with turrets and gingerbread cutouts.

We walked past two ladies sitting in the white rocking chairs on the porch and gabbing about their day. Liz pulled the heavy lead glass door open and held it for Mal and me. We walked through into the cool, main foyer. It smelled of beeswax and candles. A giant chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling with stairs going up the left side of the hall.

“Hello,” Mrs. H called as she came in from the backdoor like she had done the day before. “Oh, hello, Allie, Hi Liz. Who’s this?” She bent down to give Mal a pat on the head and some scratches behind the ears.

“This is my puppy, Mal,” I said.

Mrs. Hamilton wore neatly pressed jeans and a thick, blue T-shirt with a boat neck and three quarter length sleeves. She had white athletic shoes on her feet and her gray hair was pulled back into a neat, low ponytail. “Hi Mal. Are you the intrepid doggy who has a knack for finding dead people?”

“The very one,” I said with chagrin.

Mal held out her paw for Mrs. Hamilton to shake.

“My, you are smart,” Mrs. H said and shook Mal’s paw and then straightened. “What can I do for you girls?”

“We are looking for Henry Schulte,” Liz said.

“We have reason to believe he might be in some kind of trouble.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. H said. “That’s not good. We don’t like trouble at the Hamilton.”

“Have you seen him today?” I asked. “He never got back to me after I left the note yesterday.”

“I haven’t seen him today.” She drew her eyebrows together. “I don’t remember seeing him yesterday, either. I usually make up the rooms but he had his
N
O
T
HANKS
sign on his door handle.”

“Did you give him my message?”

“I placed it under his door. Do you think he’s all right?”

“We have reason to believe his partner was getting death threats before he was killed,” Liz said.

“And you think someone might try to kill Henry as well?” Mrs. Hamilton’s voice rose an octave. “Oh, no, not in my hotel. I won’t have that in the Hamilton. Let me go get my husband. We can go to Mr. Schulte’s room and ensure he is safely alive.”

“Okay,” Liz said. “We’ll wait here.”

Mrs. Hamilton scurried through the kitchen door into the back of the hotel. I noticed that across from the stairs was a formal front parlor with a fireplace and two pastel striped settees with a cherry wood coffee table between them and a couple winged back chairs in a floral pattern. On the mantel of the fireplace was a wooden cuckoo clock.

The second doorway off the main foyer contained a breakfast room with four round tables covered by long tablecloths with pastel skirts and white tops. Around them was a wide assortment of dining chairs. In the space of a bumped out window box was an antique buffet. I could imagine that breakfast was served from the buffet.

A door on the back wall led to the kitchen, I assumed. It was the door Mrs. Hamilton had come out of each time I had visited. To the right of that door was another door which was closed. Under the stairs on the right was a third doorway. I glanced in to see a finely appointed library with cherry wood bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling. Two long windows let in the light. The bookshelves had a single ladder on rollers that helped reach the top shelf.

Inside were cozy chairs, each with a small table that held a reading lamp. Between the windows was a long antique desk and matching chair. On the desk was a computer system complete with printer.

“Huh. It looks like the Hamilton has a business center, too,” I said.

“We just put that computer in the library,” Mrs. Hamilton said behind me.

I turned to find her behind me with a tall, thin, bald man who I assumed was Mr. Hamilton.

“We argued for months about putting one in or not,” the man said. “But eventually we decided it was time to bring a little bit of the twenty-first century into the business.”

“Alex wanted three computers,” Mrs. H said. “But I put my foot down at one. When people come to Mackinac, they come to get away, not to sit at a computer and answer e-mails.”

“That said, there is an entire business center in the new Grander Hotel. Have you seen it?” Mr. Hamilton asked.

“No.” I shook my head.

“I have,” Liz said. “It’s got six computers, three printers, one of which is full color. They also offer a lending service.”

“Lending service?” I asked, my eyebrows drawn in confusion.

“They lend out tablets and laptops for people who want to use one in their room.”

“Is it popular?” I asked and raised an eyebrow.

“The Grander claims it is.” Mr. Hamilton shrugged. I noticed that his brown eyes darkened. “It’s pretty darn hard to compete in this tight market when they have all the newest gadgets.”

“I agree with Mrs. H,” Liz said. “People come here for the old-fashioned peace and quiet. If I had my way, they would ban the Internet from the island.” She crossed her arms.

“I bet that would sell more papers,” I said with a smile.

“There is something to be said about unplugging,” Mrs. Hamilton said.

“I don’t think people know how any more,” Mr. Hamilton said. “I’m Alex by the way.” He held out his big square hand.

“Allie McMurphy.” I shook his hand. “This is my doggie Mal.”

Mal sat and lifted her left paw for a shake.

Mr. H laughed and squatted down and shook Mal’s paw. “Please to meet you both.” He stood, his long legs encased in jeans. He wore work boots on his feet and a green shirt with
Hamilton B & B
embroidered across the top of the pocket on the left side. “My wife told me you had some concerns about the safety of one of our guests.”

“Yes,” Liz said. “We have reason to believe that Henry Schulte may be in trouble. My investigation into the murder of his partner Rodney Rivers has shown that Mr. Rivers received death threats before he died. It seems that the company was dealing with some pretty shady characters.”

“And you are worried that those characters may have harmed Mr. Schulte,” Mr. Hamilton surmised.

“I hope not,” I said. “I left Mr. Schulte a message yesterday to contact me and never heard from him. Your wife tells us she hasn’t seen him in almost two days.”

“It is important that we know he’s okay,” Liz said.

“Did you contact Rex Manning?” Mr. H asked.

“We weren’t sure we had to go that far,” I said. “Right now, we simply came to see if you had seen him lately. I would rather believe he is alive and ignoring my message than to find out he was hurt like Rodney.”

“Well, all we can do is knock on the door and see if he answers,” Mr. Hamilton said. “Until he misses his check-out date, we really can’t go into his room. It’s not like the cop shows where they just give them the key to go inside.”

“Okay. Please knock and see if he’s in,” I said.

“Fine,” Mr. Hamilton said. “If you ladies don’t mind, I’d prefer you didn’t go up. The man’s room number is private unless he tells you.”

“Fine,” Liz said. “If he answers the door, let him know two good-looking women want to speak to him.”

Mr. Hamilton smiled. “If that doesn’t peak his curiosity something is really going on here.”

We waited with Mrs. H while he went upstairs and did his thing. I tried to be patient and not speculate if Henry was dead or not. Mal spent the time begging Mrs. H for pets and the older woman was happy to oblige.

“You are the sweetest puppy,” she cooed. “What a cute dolly.”

“She has a whole repertoire of tricks,” I said. “I’ll have to bring some treats with me next time so that she can show them off.”

“I’ve heard this little one has quite the reputation of sniffing out danger,” Mrs. H said with a smile. “Don’t you, Mal? Yes, you do.”

Mr. Hamilton came down the stairs with a look of concern on his face. “He’s not answering the door. I slid a note under it. It’s the best I can do.”

“When is he supposed to check out?” Liz asked.

“He paid up for the full week,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “He still has the privacy note hanging from the doorknob. There’s nothing we can do until Saturday.”

“If he’s dead, the body is going to start to stink,” Liz pointed out.

“We’ll be sure to keep an eye on any foul odors coming from the room.” Mr. H crossed his arms. “I’m still not sure that is reason enough to enter the room. With the privacy sign on the door, we can’t even go in and make up the room. Look, girls. It’s only been a day or so. Let’s give it a little more time. Okay?”

“Okay.” I sighed and looked at Liz. “Let’s go see Rex. He needs to know that his witness may not be safe.”

“I agree,” Liz said. “Thanks for checking, Mr. Hamilton.”

“You’re welcome, girls,” Mr. H said, his big Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny throat. “Keep us posted if you hear anything.”

“I’ll give you a call if I see the man,” Mrs. H added. “That way you won’t worry. You’ll know he’s rude and not dead.”

We both laughed. It was the first time either of us wished someone was just rude.

 

Butter 8x8x2-inch cake pan.

Mix cream cheese, unprepared instant pudding, pumpkin, vanilla, cinnamon, and pumpkin pie spice. Add powdered sugar 1 cup at a time until you reach the desired thickness. Add chopped walnuts and mix well.

Scoop into prepared pan. Pat until smooth. Score into 1-inch pieces with butter knife.

Refrigerate for 2-3 hours until set.

Break into 1-inch pieces along score and serve in individual paper candy cups or on a platter. Store leftovers in covered container in the refrigerator.

 

Enjoy!