The Chocolate Bear Burglary (27 page)

He patted his uncle on the shoulder. “Uncle Tim didn’t know anything about it. He found the kitchen utensils and molds in the basement and gave them to Gail to sell. The molds wound up being displayed at the TenHuis shop. At first Mother thought that was okay, but then she found out some expert on chocolate molds was going to come to look at them. Apparently Mother tried to break into TenHuis Chocolade and get hold of that bear mold before the expert could want to know why it had been treated badly. Gail must have figured out that the burglar used Uncle Tim’s MGB, because of the broken taillight.”

Tears were running down Timothy’s cheeks. “Gail had seen the MGB,” he said. “I showed it to her when she picked up the molds. She knew it had a broken taillight. She may have thought that I was the burglar.”

I was having trouble taking all this in. “Did your mother use the snowmobile to chase me?”

“She did have the snowmobile out yesterday,” Hart said.

“Why would she chase me?”

Hart rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I know that something you said upset her, when we talked outside the police station that morning. She must have decided you knew something. Maybe that Gail had told you about the MGB and its broken taillight.”

The chief came in then. The first thing he said was that Hart should get a lawyer. Then the chief instructed Jerry Cherry to let Jeff out of the holding cell, and he told me we could leave. He and Hart were still arguing about whether Hart should call a lawyer as Joe, Jeff, and I headed out into the winter dusk.

But as we stepped outside that dusk was shattered by strobe lights. I almost ran back inside. Two guys had been waiting, and I recognized them as part of the tabloid crew that had invaded Warner Pier the previous summer.

“Cool it!” Joe told them. “The story’s inside the police station! Not out here.”

The photographer laughed and flashed his strobe again. “That’s not what George said.”

“Shut up!” That came from his companion, a man with a notebook.

“You’d better get inside to talk to the chief,” Joe said. “I think you’re the first team on the scene, and this is going to be a big story.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Did somebody from Warner Pier call you? George? George who?”

“Never mind!” The reporter grabbed the photographer and the two of them hotfooted it into City Hall.

Jeff, Joe, and I stood looking after them. “George?” I said. “Surely he didn’t mean George Palmer?”

“Surely he did,” Joe said. “George is on the park commission. I thought one of the commission members had to be the tabloid source. They were the only people who knew I’d approached Mike Herrera about selling the Warner Point property to the city.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I couldn’t rule out someone from the lawyer’s office blabbing. I tried to give George the benefit of the doubt.”

“He’s so obnoxious!”

Joe shrugged. “Well, I’ll tell Mike Herrera what we’ve deduced, and Mike will call George’s father-in-law, and maybe old George will have a new job pretty quick.”

“Wouldn’t that be great! Maybe Barbara can come back.”

Jeff’s jacket was still being held as evidence, so the three of us ran the two blocks to TenHuis Chocolade for a joyful reunion with Aunt Nettie and Tess. We were all in the workroom, jumping up and down and turning cartwheels, when someone came in the front door. One of the hairnet ladies went up to the counter.

I heard a deep voice with a Texas accent. “Ah’m lookin’ for Lee McKinney,” it said.

Jeff’s eyes suddenly were the size of dinner plates. “It’s Dad,” he said in a whisper.

I sighed. I had to face Rich sometime. “Bring him back to the shop,” I said.

Rich came in. Dina was with him. Dina’s eyes locked on only one thing. “Jeff!” she said. “You’re here!”

Suddenly they were in a three-way hug. “I’m all right!” Jeff kept saying. “I’m all right.”

They finally loosened their grips and turned around toward the rest of us, all three of them with tearstreaked faces. And sometime in there Jeff’s lip stud had disappeared.

Jeff started talking. “Lee kept working ’til she figured out who really killed that woman. She got me out of jail.”

That led to more commotion, of course. Dina had to hug me—and after a minute, Rich did, too. They had to meet Tess. They had to confirm the news Jeff had told us earlier—they had gone to Mexico in an attempt at reconciliation.

Apparently it had worked. Dina held out her left hand and proudly showed off her new wedding ring. I was surprised at its appearance. It was a simple piece of Mexican silver. No clusters of diamonds. No ruby the size of an idol’s eye. It was definitely a sincere wedding ring, not one to show off to your business associates. Maybe Rich actually had changed his ways.

I hugged her. Dina had always been pretty nice to me. “I want you two to be really happy,” I said. I shook Rich’s hand.

Then they had to hear the whole story of our burglary and the murder of Gail Hess. Through all of this, Joe leaned against a worktable, saying nothing. It was nearly an hour later when Rich looked at his watch and said, “Are we going to be able to find a place to stay?”

I called the Inn on the Pier and was assured they had rooms available. “Good!” Rich said. “Now, I already noticed a restaurant open down the street. I’d like to take everyone to dinner.”

I looked at Aunt Nettie. She looked at Tess. Aunt Nettie used her mental telepathy powers and told both of us to say no.

“I think I’d better go home, take a hot shower and get into my flannel pj’s,” Aunt Nettie said.

“And I think I’d better go with you,” Tess said. “I have to call my parents.” Aunt Nettie patted her hand and smiled.

“Lee?” Rich looked at me.

Behind me Joe stirred. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m taking Lee to the Dock Street Pizza tonight.”

I went over to Joe. “You’re sure?”

“I’m not taking another chance on losing you, Lee.”

Then he put his arms around me, right in front of God and everybody. Which included Aunt Nettie, Rich, Dina, Jeff, Tess, and three of the hairnet ladies who hadn’t left yet.

But Aunt Nettie had one more comment. “Before the party breaks up,” she said, “would anybody like a sample chocolate?”

Rich had an Italian cherry bonbon and immediately began talking to Aunt Nettie about boxes to give as business gifts.

Dina told him to hush and picked out a raspberry cream bonbon (“Red raspberry puree in white chocolate cream interior”). “It smells heavenly in here,” she said.

Tess went for a double fudge bonbon and Jeff asked for a Jamaican rum truffle.

“Could Lee and I take ours in a little box?” Joe asked. He took a coffee truffle (“All milk chocolate, flavored with Caribbean coffee”) and I chose a Frangelico one. Aunt Nettie settled for solid chocolate with bits of hazelnut.

Ten minutes later—after we’d seen the others off and I’d locked up—Joe and I went out the front door. Joe took my hand again. “Our friendship is about to meet a new challenge,” Joe said. “The big question is, do you like anchovies on your pizza?”

“No!”

“Good! Come on.”

We got in Joe’s truck and headed for Dock Street Pizza. Right in front of God and everybody.

 

JoAnna Carl is the pseudonym for a multipublished mystery writer. She spent twenty-five years in the newspaper business, working as a reporter, a feature writer, an editor, and a columnist. She holds a degree in journalism from the University of Oklahoma and also studied in the O.U. Professional Writing program. She lives in Oklahoma but summers in Michigan, where the Chocoholic Mysteries are set. She has one daughter who works for a chocolate maker and another who is a CPA.

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