Oh Say Can You Fudge (14 page)

“So,” I said as Sandy left out the back. “We have a lead.”

“I heard.” Frances’s eyes were twinkling. “And I have an address.”

“Great!” I practically clapped my hands. “Do you have time to go with me?” I asked Sophie.

“Sure. I can take a few minutes.” She patted Mal on the head as we realized my puppy had stashed her treat in the cushion on her bed and come back for more attention. “Can we bring Mal?”

As if on cue, Mal looked at me and then ran to get her leash.

I laughed. “Okay. If Henry is truly missing, perhaps she can help us track him down.”

“Let’s hope he is alive,” Sophie said as I bent to put on Mal’s halter and leash. “I’m not as excited to find a dead body as you are.”

“Not me. Mal. She’s the one who seems to enjoy it most.”

“Be safe, girls,” Frances said. “If there is a killer out there, he may not like it that you are investigating.”

“We’ll do our best.” I let Mal draw me out the back door.

 

Butter 8x8x2-inch pan.

Carefully melt white chocolate chips and dissolved gelatin in the top of a double boiler. Hint: White chocolate burns faster than regular chocolate. Melt slowly and stir constantly.

In a medium bowl, mix can of frosting, melted chocolate-gelatin mixture, and chopped cherries. Stir until combined.

Pat into pan. Score into 1-inch pieces with butter knife.

Refrigerate for 3 hours.

Remove and cut into 1-inch pieces following the score marks. Serve in individual paper cups or on platter. Cover leftovers in air tight container and store in refrigerator.

 

Bonus: I melted 1 cup of dark chocolate chips with 1 tablespoon of butter in the microwave and poured a thin ganache on top. Yum!

Chapter 15

“What are you doing here?” The female officer scowled at me and ignored Sophie.

We had arrived at Henry’s aunt’s house and were met by Officer Lasko.

She was petite and looked gorgeous in her police blues. Her blond hair was neatly tucked up off her collar. She was all business and yet still looked like an actress who played a police officer on television. I have no idea how she managed it. Or why she so blatantly didn’t like me.

“We are looking for Henry Schulte,” I said. “We were told he may be at his aunt’s house. This is her house, right?” I tried to look around Officer Lasko, but she stepped into my view.

“Step back,” she said, her tone official. “This is a police investigation.” She held out her hands to push us off the sidewalk and into the street.

Mal tugged on her leash and wrapped herself around Officer Lasko, stopping the woman in her tracks.

“Sorry. She prefers standing on the grass rather than standing in the street.” I carefully unwound Mal’s leash and then picked her up and took a step back from the frowning female officer.

Henry’s aunt lived in a small worker’s cottage near the airport. The place was neatly painted a pale green with cream shutters. A short sidewalk flowed into a small front porch which framed the 1920s bungalow. In comparison to the painted ladies called “Summer Cottages” this was a modest home most likely holding only two bedrooms and one bath.

“What is going on?” Sophie glanced around.

There were no ambulances or fire trucks. That was a good thing as far as I was concerned. It meant that no one was hurt or worse . . . dead.

“We’re here to talk to Henry about the contract his partner Rodney Rivers signed with the fireworks committee,” I offered. “We’re not impeding an investigation and we are definitely not investigating anything. Are we Sophie?”

“No,” Sophie said, backing me up. “We are trying to find Henry to get him to fulfill his contract.”

“Henry Schulte does not live here,” Officer Lasko said. “I have been told he is staying at the Hamilton.” She pointed away from the house.

“His aunt lives here,” Sophie said. “We want to talk to her about Henry’s whereabouts.”

“He’s not answering my calls or responding to my messages,” I said. “We are concerned about his well-being.”

“I’m certain he is fine,” Officer Lasko said. “Leave him another message.”

The cream-colored front door opened and Henry Schulte came out, his hands clearly cuffed behind him. Rex had his hand around Henry’s elbow. Henry looked disheveled. His shirt was wrinkled as if he had slept in it a few days. His jeans were wrinkled and his shoes were untied. His blue-tipped, spiked hair stood up in places it hadn’t the last time I’d seen him. It appeared that Rex had disturbed Henry’s nap.

Mal’s stubby tail wagged hard against me as she wiggled to get down and greet Rex.

“Is Rex arresting Henry?” I asked, holding tight to Mal. The last thing I needed was to give Officer Lasko an excuse to accuse Mal of obstructing justice.

“As I said,” Officer Lasko repeated, “this is an official police investigation. Please back off. And keep that dog out of the way.”

Sophie pulled out her phone and snapped a few quick photos of Rex hauling Henry out of the little bungalow. “What is he being arrested for?”

“An official statement will be given at seven
PM
.” Officer Lasko kept her body between us and Rex.

“It’s not like you are going to be able to keep this secret,” I said. “We’re blocks from the police station and Rex is going to walk Henry through town. People talk.”

“And take pictures.” Sophie shot a few more pics and then quickly texted them. “I’m sending these to Liz. She’ll be at the police station before Rex.”

“Rex,” I called. “Why are you arresting Henry?”

“There will be an official announcement,” he said as he pulled a reluctant Henry past us. “But I recommend you find yourself another pyro tech for the fireworks show.”

“That’s all I needed to know,” I said.

Sophie looked at me.

I looked at her. “I’ll bet a year’s worth of fudge that Rex is arresting Henry for Rodney’s murder.”

“I won’t take that bet. I told Rex I flew Henry in the day before the explosion. As far as I know, he was on Mackinac when it happened.”

“Great,” I said with a breath of relief. “Now I can tell my new contact that the murderer has been caught and the show is no longer jinxed.”

“We can’t make any such statements at this time. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty.” Officer Lasko’s gaze was serious.

I frowned. “Wait. I thought you would be happy to catch a murderer.”

“I’m happy when justice is done. I’m not so reckless as to make statements like you just did. I believe in the law.”

“Fine.” I worked to keep from rolling my eyes then stopped and looked at her. “No, you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” She stood up straighter.

“Listen, somehow we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t you come over to the McMurphy sometime? We can have coffee and get to know each other better.”

She drew her eyebrows together. “Why would I want to do that?”

She turned on her heel and followed Rex, ensuring that anyone on the street did not get too close or take pictures.

“Wow,” Sophie said as we watched them go. “She does not like you.”

“One of my claims to fame.”

“What did you do?”

I shook my head. “Heck if I know.”

“Well, listen. Now that we’ve solved the murder, I’ve got to get back to work. There’s a couple from Chicago who are coming out for the week.” Sophie patted me on the shoulder. “I don’t want to be late picking them up. They’re big tippers.”

“Sure. Thanks for your help. Come by anytime. There’s always coffee.”

“Will do.” Sophie headed in the opposite direction.

“Come on, Mal. Let’s go home, get some dinner, and call a man about signing a contract.”

 

 

We were a few blocks from the McMurphy when Mal started to tug on her leash. She usually walked very well, keeping beside me unless there was something not quite right.

I had learned to pay attention to her antics. “What is it, Mal?”

She wanted to go left—not right toward the McMurphy.

I let her tug me off toward a group of small cottages rented by summer hotel staff and shop workers. The area was a bustling mini city where minimum-wage workers stayed for the summer. Often in the early morning, maids and porters and reception-desk workers could be seen walking from this area toward the hotels that employed them.

The little bungalows were clean and neat and simple. Some of them dated back to before the McMurphy—over 100 years. The waitstaff was often given weeklong ferry passes and free room and board in the smaller cottages—usually at two people per bedroom.

I had always stayed at the McMurphy growing up and so I rarely had a chance to venture into the staff housing area. Mal had decided that it was a good time to do that.

Then I smelled it—the scent of smoke on the damp evening air. “Oh, no. Not another fire.” I let Mal pull me between two buildings.

We came around the back corner of a tiny white cottage to find a small shed on fire. Mal sat a few yards away and looked at me. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Charlene.

“9-1-1. Please state your emergency,” she said.

“Hi Charlene. There is a shed on fire at 900 East Marrow Street.”

“Is this Allie McMurphy?” Charlene asked.

“Yes, this is Allie. I was out walking my dog when she smelled something. We approached and there is a small shed on fire. It looks like one of those wooden sheds that holds lawnmowers and racks and such.”

“Oh, dear. Step back. Where there are lawnmowers there is usually—”

A loud explosion knocked me back against the bungalow. Debris smacked against me. Mal leapt into my lap and I turned my body so that my back was to the fire and Mal was between me and the house.

A second explosion rattled my teeth and smacked me with pieces of wood and glass. The heat of it warmed my back. I struggled to catch my breath and braced myself for more.

Everything moved in slow motion as I breathed in and out. I could feel Mal shiver in my arms and my ears rang from the blast. I couldn’t hear anything. I was too scared to see if anything was left of the shed.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into George Marron’s dark black gaze. I could see that he was saying something, but I had no idea what. I shook my head. “I can’t hear you.” My voice sounded muffled as if I had cotton in my ears or a bad head cold.

He nodded his understanding and then gently took ahold of my elbow and helped me up. He motioned that we were going to move between the two bungalows and away from the fire. I followed on shaky legs with Mal safely tucked in my arms. She seemed more excited than scared as she licked my face.

The ambulance was parked in front of the bungalow and the fire truck was parked behind it. The firemen in full gear hauled hoses around the homes and commanded the scene. Mal took it all in without a bark.

George guided me to sit on the back of the ambulance then gently took Mal from me. She licked his face and I smiled. I knew if he wasn’t careful she’d French kiss him. He was a handsome man any girl would be lucky to snuggle up next to just like Mal was doing. I suppose it was one of the privileges of being a fluffy white doggie.

The air smelled of soot and petroleum. George handed Mal off to Officer Brown who’d arrived at the scene via his bike. They talked, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I blinked and George turned back to me. He carefully listened to my lungs and then put an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth.

I think I was still a bit dazed. The oxygen had a tinny scent to it and I tried to breathe deeply. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. George checked my pulse and shone a light into my eyes. He then put up his finger and expressed that I should follow it. I did and passed the test just fine.

He nodded and then gently moved my arm looking for broken bones. I winced when he touched me. I glanced over to see that I had a gash in my left forearm.

George’s expression was solemn as he checked all my limbs. I learned that my left shoulder hurt. My right thumb was swollen and my ears still rang from the explosion. He went to work splinting my thumb and triaging the shrapnel wounds and bits of glass from my arms and back.

The gash was deep enough that he motioned I would have to have stitches and he wanted me to get on the stretcher.

“I’m fine,” I said into the mask and shook my head. I didn’t want to get on the stretcher. I didn’t want to go to the clinic.

He shook his head in disagreement and insisted I get up on the stretcher.

Rex appeared on the other side of the ambulance just as my ears popped. “Concussion?” I heard him ask George.

“Her eyes look fine,” George said. “I’m pretty sure her thumb might be broken and she needs stitches and glass removed from her back.”

I lifted the oxygen mask. “That is exactly why I should not lie down on the stretcher.”

“Put that back on,” George commanded, gently pushing my hand up so that I had to cover my mouth and nose with the mask. “Your hearing has returned?”

I nodded as he turned my head and looked into my ears.

His breath was warm and minty on my face. “Your ear drums are irritated. You need to keep the oxygen mask on. An explosion and the resulting heat can collapse or scorch your lungs. You’re at risk for pneumonia.”

“I feel fine,” I said into the mask. It came out muffled and Rex frowned at me.

“You need to go to the clinic.”

I lifted the mask. “What about Mal?”

George pushed the mask back to my face.

“Charles called Frances,” Rex said. “She is on her way. As far as we can tell, the dog is completely unhurt.”

I sent him a look that meant that I didn’t believe him.

He blew out a long breath. “Frances will see that Mal goes to the vet and gets a thorough checkup. You need to go to the clinic where they can do some X-rays and get you stitched up.”

“Fine.” I attempted to cross my arms, but the pout didn’t work. It hurt to move and I winced.

Rex lifted his eyebrows and nodded at me. “Get on the stretcher.”

I lifted the mask. “I’ll go, but I’ll sit.”

George pushed the mask back. “Fine,” he agreed and helped me up and into the back of the ambulance.

“I’ll be over there in a bit,” Rex said, “to ask questions.”

I suddenly felt exhausted. “Okay.” I was regretting not getting on the stretcher.

George put a blanket gently around my shoulders as Rex closed the ambulance doors on us and pounded on the back. The vehicle took off in a slow roll away from the smoke-filled scene.

George sat beside me and I leaned against him. The trip to the clinic took only a few minutes. The ambulance ran silent through the back roads of the island, honking at the bicyclists and buggies to watch out.

I must have nodded off. The next thing I knew, I was in the clinic on a bed. I was lying on my stomach, my back free of clothing as someone worked on removing glass and wood.

The oxygen mask was still on my nose and mouth. I winced as the person tugged on my back.

She finally moved so I could see her face. “Hello, I’m Doctor Seager. I put an IV in your hand, but we aren’t going to give you pain meds until we know for sure you don’t have a concussion. We’ve taken some X-rays of your head, your lungs, and your thumb. Those results will be in soon. Meanwhile, you lie there and relax. We’re nearly done cleaning up your back and shoulder.

I raised my thumb as a way of indicating that I understood.

I faded in and out while they worked on me. Finally they gave me pain meds and the next time I woke up the entire night had passed. I was in a curtained area still on my stomach. The mask was gone and I had oxygen hooked to my nostrils. “Ugh,” was all I said.