Oh Say Can You Fudge (8 page)

Chapter 8

“Happy news. I’ve found a company with fireworks,” Jenn said as she hustled into the fudge shop kitchen where I was in the process of cooking a batch of Maple Walnut Fudge.

“Great!” I stirred the sugar and cream as it cooked. “What’s the cost?”

“It’s in line with your budget and they can get them to us on the dates we need them.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said as I removed the syrupy base from the heat and added butter and maple flavoring.

“There’s just one catch,” Jenn added hesitantly.

“Well, I figured. What is it? Are they brand new? Will the fireworks show times be less?”

“No, the company has been in business for fifteen years and have loads of references.” Jenn leaned against the counter, watching me pour the hot candy onto the cooling table. The metal frame caught the liquid like a dam around the edges.

I paused before scraping the pan and studied my friend. “What’s the catch?”

“They have only fireworks. All their technicians are booked. They don’t have a good technician to put the show together and light the fireworks.”

I grabbed a handheld spatula and scrapped the pan clean then put it back into its holder. I set the timer for ten minutes. The fudge had to cool to a certain consistence before I began to stir it. “Fireworks don’t do us much good if there’s no one to fire them.”

“I know.” Jenn went on. “The person to fire them has to be certified. I can’t find anyone who fits the bill who isn’t busy already.”

I drew my eyebrows together and frowned as I poured soap and water into the pot. “I wonder if Rodney’s partner is certified to run the show. I mean, he is Rodney’s partner. That means he has to have some kind of license. Right?”

“He must,” Jenn agreed. “Do you still have his number?”

“I do. I’ll call as soon as I finish this batch.”

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Jenn asked, her eyebrows drawn together.

“I’m betting he can’t say no. We do have a contract. I’ll pull it out and see what it says. If we have fireworks, then he has to do the show, right?”

“That would be ideal.”

“Thanks, Jenn.” I finished washing and drying the pot in time for the timer to go off.

“You’re welcome. I love watching you make fudge. It never gets old,” Jenn said as I removed the frame from around the fudge and it set in place, slipping only slightly toward the edge of the table.

“I know what you mean.” I grabbed a long-handled spatula and started to flip the fudge. “Where are the fireworks? Can we get them here in time?”

“Yes, if we expedite the shipping.”

“Do it. I’ll call Henry and send him a copy of the contract if he needs to see it. We paid them fifty percent down. I think that entitles us to someone to run the show, don’t you?” I switched from the long handle to the short-handled scraper and turned the fudge into a long loaf. Then made short work of cutting quarter-pound pieces and placing them on a tray.

“Sure do,” Jenn said with a grin.

“Thanks for tracking them down.”

“That’s my job.” She curtsied and bowed.

“Remind me to give you a raise someday.”

“I’m counting on it.”

 

 

A few minutes later, I was upstairs in my office with the Rivers Productions contract in my hands. I dialed the phone and put it on speaker.

“Rivers Productions. This is Henry Schulte. I’m unable to get the phone. Leave your name and number and reason for calling and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

The phone beeped and I frowned. “Hi, Mr. Schulte. This is Allie McMurphy. We were able to find enough fireworks to do the shows we contracted Rodney to do. What we need now is someone to light them and do the show. I’ve got a contract in my hand that says Rivers Productions will supply the personnel to do the show. I know Rodney is dead, but you are still alive. Please call me back. The show must go on.”

I left my number and hit
END
, scowling at my phone and willing it to ring. Henry Schulte had been the most difficult person to get ahold of. If he didn’t call back by this time tomorrow, I’d go see Rex. He had somehow gotten Henry to come down to the station. Maybe he could help me track him down again.

You know, maybe if I hurried I could find Henry still at the police station. I yanked off my sticky chef coat, tossed it on the back of my desk chair, grabbed my copy of the contract, and headed down the hall to the apartment. I’d take the fire escape down to the alley. It would keep me from running into too many people. It sometimes took an hour to get out of the McMurphy. People always wanted to know about fudge making, or they had an issue in their room, or they needed directions.

It wasn’t that I minded so much talking with them and helping them out. But I had a feeling if I didn’t hurry, I might miss Henry altogether. And that was not something I was going to take a chance on.

I stuffed the contract in my purse and opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the fire escape to find the beautiful black, white, and orange kitten sitting on the stoop, licking its paw as if he belonged there.

“Hello. So you’re back.” I paused, careful to ensure the door was closed tightly behind me. The last thing I needed was another episode of loose cat in the McMurphy. “Do you live nearby?”

The cat didn’t answer. In fact, he barely paid me any mind at all. If it was a he. Or was it a she? I couldn’t remember what Trent had told me he thought the sex was. Not that it mattered. I like boys and girls.

I squatted down and held out my hand. “Pretty kitty.”

The cat continued to ignore me.

I studied its shiny fur and bright eyes. It looked to be of medium size and didn’t have any of the awkwardness of a kitten. “Are you an alley cat? Or does someone nearby love you?”

Slowly, I reached into my pocket and took out my cell phone. Then I aimed the camera at the cat and snapped a nice picture. I sent the picture to Jenn in a text.
Look who is outside on the fire escape
.

She texted back immediately.
Pretty
!

Sure thing
was her texted reply.

I stood and studied the cat who continued to act as if I didn’t exist. “If you’re still here when I get back, I’ll bring out some tuna and water,” I promised.

The cat seemed to expect me to do just that. I sighed and climbed down the metal stairs. I was supposed to be going to find Henry Schulte. A glance at the time told me I’d be lucky to catch him still at the police station. It was growing later in the evening and Rex would have no real reason to keep Henry. That is, if he hadn’t left the island right after he walked out of my shop this morning.

I pushed open the door to the white administration building and went straight to the police department. “Hello,” I said to the officer on desk duty.

He looked up and I realized it was Officer Brown. He was about my age with dark green eyes and caramel colored hair. He had nice broad shoulders and wore the uniform crisply pressed.

“Oh, hi, Charles.”

“Hey, Allie, what brings you by?” He put down his pen and gave me his full attention.

“I was looking for Henry Schulte. I know that he was here earlier to see Rex. Is he still around?”

“Rex or this Schulte?” Charles asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“Schulte, actually.” I scrounged around in my purse until I came up with the contract. “I’ve located replacement fireworks for the shows, but I need a tech to light them. Since we still have a contract with Rivers Productions I want to see if Henry will run the show in Rodney Rivers’ place.”

“That’s smart,” Charles said. “Where did you find replacement fireworks at this late date?”

“Jenn found them. She is amazing at scrounging up stuff.”

“I’ll give Rex a ring and see if he knows where Schulte is. Why don’t you have a seat?” Charles pointed at the four plastic chairs across from the desk.

“Sure.” I sat down and watched him pick up the phone and place the call.

“Hey, Rex. Allie McMurphy’s here looking for Henry Schulte. Is he still around?”

I could hear Charles’ deep voice over the top of the wooden reception desk. The floor between him and the chairs where I sat was tiled and polished to a deep shine. A five-by-seven foot rug filled up most of the space so that it was difficult to slip or fall on all that shine.

“I see. Okay. I’ll let her know.” He hung up the phone.

I stood. “Is he here?”

“Rex asked him to stay on the island for a few days. He got a room over at the Hamilton B & B. You can try him there.”

“Thanks. Have a great day.”

“You, too.”

“Oh, wait.” I turned on my heel and pulled out my phone. “You wouldn’t happen to know if anyone is missing this cat, would you?” I showed him the picture on my phone.

He studied it carefully then shook his head. “No. Nice cat, though. Is that the one Rex let into the McMurphy?”

I couldn’t help but match the grin on Charles’ face. “Yes. This time it was sitting on the fire escape. I was careful not to let it inside.”

“Don’t feed it,” he warned. “It will never go away if you do.”

“I’m having Jenn put up signs. It’s a pretty cat. Someone must be missing it.”

“I’ll let you know if anyone calls. Usually they call animal control, but sometimes they call here, too.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Is the shelter here on the island?”

“No, Mackinac County Animal Shelter is in St. Ignace.”

“Okay.” St. Ignace was the closest town on the Upper Peninsula side of the island. Several ferries went to and from there daily. “I’ll have Jenn fax them a picture.”

“Good luck,” Charles said with a grin.

“Thanks.” I texted Jenn about the animal shelter. I wanted her to let them know we had the cat if anyone was looking, but I didn’t want them to get the cat. I had no idea if they were a no-kill shelter or not. I couldn’t live with the idea that that beautiful cat might be no more.

The Hamilton B & B was just off Market Street less than a mile from the police station and two blocks behind the McMurphy on Main. It was a lovely old cottage that had been turned into rooms. I walked up the sidewalk and enjoyed the fresh air and the cool flutter of the leaves on the tree-lined street.

The Hamilton was deep sage green with orange and white painted trim. It had a wide front porch that overlooked a deep front lawn. It was times like this I wished the McMurphy had a wide front lawn or any lawn for that matter, but my family had given up the lawn for prime real estate on Main Street. The Hamilton had a fire pit in the center of its lawn and several comfy looking metal Adirondack chairs. Two big oaks framed the four-story house. It had pitched roofs and gingerbread trim in all the corners.

The porch held several rocking chairs. Two chairs were currently filled by a middle-aged man in denim shorts and a navy T-shirt and a middle-aged woman in shorts and a white tee with a big flower print.

“Hello,” I said as I reached for the brass handle on the door.

“Hello,” they said, revealing their Chicago accents. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

“It sure is.” I opened the door.

The inside smelled of beeswax and old wood. The house had a central foyer and hall. To the right of the door was a large wrought iron coatrack. To the left was a mirrored, oak foyer bench and coatrack.

“Hello?” I called.

A woman with short gray hair and oversized black glasses stepped out from the far left doorway. “Hello. I’m Susan Hamilton. How can I help you?”

“Hi Susan.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Allie McMurphy. We’re neighbors, sort of. . . .”

“Ah, the McMurphy girl,” Susan said, her pale blue eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “Nice to meet you, dear.” She shook my hand. “I knew your grandparents well. I’m so sorry for your loss. Liam was a gentleman through and through.”

“Thank-you.”

Mrs. H was about five foot six inches tall and wore a sweatshirt with a Michigan State logo on it over jeans and athletic shoes. “What brings you to the Hamilton?”

“I suppose you heard about the fireworks explosion,” I said.

“Oh, dear, me, yes. I was in the kitchen when it happened. I could hear the booms and see the smoke. What a ruckus.” She shook her head. “I understand you were there.”

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “It was not fun. We lost all the fireworks for the Star Spangled Fourth.”

“Oh, dear.” She pushed her glasses farther up on her nose and blinked at me. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all. What is the committee doing about it?”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m the person in charge of the fireworks. I’ve been lucky enough to find replacements. All we need now is someone qualified to fire them.”

“I see.” She frowned. “I don’t know what that has to do with me. I’m certainly not qualified.”

“Oh, no.” I touched her forearm in reassurance. “I’m here to see your latest guest, Henry Schulte. He’s the partner of Rodney Rivers, the technician we lost in the explosion.”

“Oh, dear, someone died?” Mrs. H asked. “Why did I not hear about that?”

“The death is still under investigation, but I’m pretty sure it was reported in the
Town Crier
. I know that Liz was at the scene.”

“Well, that’s the reason. I’ve been in Petoskey visiting my sister. She lives on a farm and when we get together we do so much chin wagging that we don’t even turn on the television, let alone read a paper.”