A Ghostly Affair: A cozy mystery series (Death by Chocolate Book 3) (3 page)

“Without my cooking supplies?”

He sighed. “Maxine-“

“I know, I know, in a life or death situation,” she said holding up her hands to forestall any further argument.

The smell of gym shoes and floor polish, over-laid with the scent of cinnamon and apple from a multitude of flame-less candles, greeted Maxine as she entered. A garland of fall leaves, each done by one of the 358 students of St. Anthony’s, circled the walls while the gymnasium buzzed with the sound of many voices.

Several of these students were busily helping organize the tables and displays of the annual Fall Fair along with parent volunteers. Shar had apparently volunteered, or to be more specific, been volunteered, to run the bake sale. Some people would have found their inability to cook a problem when encouraging other parents to volunteer and come up with baked goods themselves. Not Shar.

“And I wasn’t there at the time. That always makes it easy to have you volunteer for organizing the bake sale. Anyhow I love your cooking. Nobody said anything about having to personally bake the donations did they? Not me.” Shar’s ready laugh and infectious personality, teamed with a spirit of innovation, allowed for a creative solution which had Maxine baking the cookies and other goodies for Sharlene and a host of other time-stressed moms.

It was a perfect solution as far as Maxine was concerned. She’d been more than happy to do brookies (combination cookie and brownie) for Shar, classic checkerboards for Maria, black and whites for Elle, white chocolate with macadamia nuts for Clare and a host of other cookies for moms unable or unwilling to do the actual baking.

Only a small minority of moms had actually done the baking themselves. Heather Atkins was one. “What’s the point of having a home baking sale if no one does their own home baking,” she’d said thrusting a container filled with some sad looking cupcakes at Maxine.

“I’m sure your family loves them,” she’d said doing her best to sooth ruffled feathers.

“They’ll love Shar’s brookies better,” Heather Atkins said despondently. “Or those white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Who wouldn’t? Even I wouldn’t buy my cupcakes if I had a choice.”

“Oh come on now. The others may look better but I’ll bet yours taste –“ she took an experimental bite and stopped herself from grimacing, “fine. I mean your family eats them.”

“They don’t have any choice,” Heather said gloomily. “But I have to donate something and I’m out of a job so I thought I’d make a plate of cupcakes.

I mean how hard could it be?” she said, her voice rising up a good octave at the end.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll sell out,” Maxine said desperately. “And there’s no point in feeling bad. I mean I’m a professional baker. It’s what I do. I have to have treats that are better than average or nobody would come in. They’d all be sitting at home eating their own chocolates and cookies and then where would I be?”

Heather Atkins gave her a small smile.

“What type of work do you, did you do?” Maxine said searching through her things frantically.

“I’m a professional organizer,” she said with some pride. “Or I was.” Her mouth drooped downwards.

“A what?”

“I go into clients houses and de-clutter them. Or businesses. Really, pretty well anywhere.”

“Oh right, didn’t they have that show,” Maxine snapped her fingers trying to remember.

“Clean sweep on TLC? Yeah, that’s what got us started. But no one watches that show anymore and…”

“But people still need help de-cluttering.” Maxine could use some help herself she thought. And a few years ago something like that would’ve been invaluable with Bernice.

“Maybe but they weren’t hiring us anymore. Not enough anyway. It was pretty well a joint decision between Janice and I. And I don’t regret it! I really don’t-“

“But until you find something else you’re trying to keep expenses down,” Maxine guessed as she pulled out a stand. “You know I could use some help with my business and if you’re good at organizing-“

“As long as it doesn’t involve cooking.”

“That’s my area,” Maxine said brightly. “Organizing, not so much. If you wanted to come by in the morning sometime I’m pretty sure I’ve got some work which would be right up your alley.”

And hopefully give Maxine a bit more time to spend trying to figure out what had happened to Wendy’s dog. Because when she’d talked to her earlier it had become crystal clear finding Toto wasn’t going to be as easy as Patrick had suggested.

“A what?” she’d said when she’d asked Wendy if she’d had a tracking device implanted on her darling dog. “That sounds horribly cruel.” She’d looked offended at the mere thought of such a device.

In the same vein phone calls to the local SPCA and pet rescue places had turned up nothing. Maxine had given them her phone number and would check back with them personally in a few days. But Toto had seemingly vanished.

“Who could do this,” Wendy cried when she’d gone over to her exclusive Uplands home to deliver the bad news in person. No amount of chocolate had been able to stop the angst. It was worse than being the mother of a teenager girl after her first bad break-up.

With triumph Maxine opened a cardboard stand and transferred Heather’s cupcakes onto it. She pulled out her emergency decorating kit and threw candy funfetti over the cupcakes with practiced ease. Still not perfect but they didn’t look too bad.

Shar had tried to talk her into spending the whole evening there pushing baked goods.

“It’s for a good cause. And I’d pay you.” Shar had been at her most persuasive sweet-talking her. No wonder she was such a star real-estate sales woman.        With a warm manner other woman liked and the looks of a model, which tended to leave men like putty in her hands, she was able to sell almost anything.

Except Maxine. “This is supposed to be a fundraiser. If you donated the money you’re spending on me and did the work yourself, imagine how much more money you’d be able to raise.”

Sharlene had snorted. “And not take part? I’d be black-listed by the PTA. Besides I consider this time management.You’re good at baking, I’m good at selling. So you do my baking – and some of the other moms, the school gets the proceeds and I have more time to do what I do best. Sell houses. See, a win, win for everyone.”

Except for parents like Heather Atkins, Maxine thought. It wasn’t what she said. What she said was “and because you’re such a good salesperson you should be the person manning the bake sale table. In fact because you’re such a good salesperson you can sell the home-made baked goods first. Like these,” she said, pointing to Heathers.

Shar had pouted briefly. “Mine would be much easier to sell.” A quick glance over to where Heather was checking out the crafts table had her changing her mind. “But where’s the challenge there! Oh, OK, I can spend a couple of hours here. And I do appreciate you doing this for me.”

“I knew you would,” Maxine said feeling a burst of relief.

“Be sure to look around before you go. You’d be amazed at some of the costumes and crafts people bring to these things. And so Maxine had. Her visit had been illuminating to say the least.

Cosplay and mothers with a little too much time on their hands had resulted in children and some adults dressed and made up in everything from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs to characters from games such as Bioshock and Fable to Maleficent. That was one school mom Maxine had no intention of crossing. There was apparently a parade for the cosplayers later, along with a contest.

Halloween crafts consisted of everything from elaborate masquerade masks to pumpkin earrings been made of play dough. More interesting to Maxine, however, were the ‘drones’ of flying ghosts and goblins, witches and warlocks.

She made a quick call to Patrick or Ric. “I know what happened at the castle,” she said. “Seriously you have to come up here.”

But while he’d been fascinated by the process, he’d remained unconvinced. “We searched the castle, remember? And we talked to everyone there. “I agree the ghost drone looks a lot like what people reported seeing at the castle. But it would be impossible to hide it away and get out of the castle without someone seeing what happened. And even if it was a drone it would still be a terrible accident, not murder.”

“Well someone knows what happened,” she said firmly. And her money was on Travis. But how or why was another matter.

Travis seemed the kid most likely to succeed in life. And not as an eco-terrorist or master criminal. She’d talked to him that night! He seemed the type of teenager parents longed for and she’d have sworn he was beyond reproach. So why did everything point to him?

“Somebody caused Zak’s death,” Tanya said with certainty. “You can at least help me look into it.” She’d invited Maxine over as support as she removed all her personal items from Zak’s luxury condominium over-looking the water. Maxine could see a float plane taxying in as she spoke.

“His parents said I could stay here for as long as I want but it’s too painful, Tanya said as a tear ran down her cheek. She took a photo from the coffee table showing the two of them together, smiling and happy.

Tanya shivered slightly putting the picture into a bag she’d brought for the purpose. “I’m beginning to think I’m cursed. My life starts to go well and then – BOOM - something terrible happens. And this – this is the worst!”

A fresh outbreak of tears followed, leaving Maxine promising she’d do whatever it took.

Which was why they were making the trip out to Eagle Ridge developments, in Maxine’s little red smart car, later that day. She wanted her to see Zak’s latest development. Everything the brochures showed her of the development made it look wonderful. If she had any spare money she’d be buying one herself. But maybe, somewhere, somehow, she’d find some clue showing Zak’s death was not a pointless tragedy.

“Look, an eagle,” Tanya said excitedly as an eagle swooped down from high overhead. “You see why Eagle Ridge was a perfect name for the development? And look at the views,” she said pointing to a row of houses situated high up Triangle Mountain and looking out over the water. Maxine didn’t even have to ask to know they were pricey.

She was a little more interested in the group of people at the bottom of the mountain. They seemed to consist of a variety of people, some carrying placards protesting against the loss of Eagle Habitat. Several looked to be native Indians and held signs, saying the land was part of their ancestral heritage and needed to be returned immediately.

“How long have they been protesting?” she asked Tanya who seemed oblivious.

“Couple of weeks,” Tanya said shrugging.

“You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?”

“Zak said they were harmless. He said you pretty well couldn’t throw a stick as a developer without having someone protest. It’s just part of the package.”

Maxine couldn’t help wondering, if somehow, some way, Zak’s accident was part of the package too. She gave a side long glace to Tanya.  Pale and quiet she wasn’t saying anything. Maxine made a point of noting the environmental group and Indian tribe who seemed to be taking credit for the protest.

And as she got ready for her date, not date, self-defense lesson with Patrick, she watched the five o’clock news.

“These are the traditional ancestral ground of our ancestors,” she heard. “Worse, it also disturbs the breeding area of eagles. There is no way these lands should ever have been cleared for developmental purposes.”

“But according to AZK Developments they had an environmental assessment done as well as checking for any prior claims. Everything that could be done was done prior to development.” News woman Angie Kelly stood off to one side allowing the camera man to get both of them into the picture with the rest of the protestors providing a nice background for the story. Angie couldn’t have done better if she’d planned it in advance. And knowing Angie she probably had.

“Tell that to our Ancestors who are buried there. Tell that to the noble eagles who have lost their homes. We know there were at least twenty eagle’s nests their last year. Now… See for yourself,” he said pointing to the new houses. The man was in his mid-twenties to early thirties Maxine judged.

And he was persuasive. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous with coffee colored skin, a strong face and a body that had obviously benefitted from extensive workouts. He was, in fact, a man Tanya would normally be drawn to. But Maxine wasn’t going to say that. Not now, not ever.

Grandma Ellie knocked on her door and Maxine pulled it open, distracted by the news. “Hi, I thought I’d drop by and see how my favorite granddaughter was doing.” She held some fall flowers in her hands.

“Oh Grandma, you don’t need an excuse and I’m you’re only granddaughter.”

Her Grandma Ellie laughed, “good manners are always important, family or not. I don’t appreciate people barging in on me uninvited. I shouldn’t be any less courteous. Oh My!” she said, noticing the news for the first time. “Who’s that? He’s gorgeous.”

“You are not just anyone,” Maxine said taking the flowers and finding a vase for them. “And those are the people protesting Zak’s latest development.”

“Tanya’s-“

“The one and only.  She’s sure it wasn’t an accident. I thought she was wrong but now I’m starting to wonder.”

“The plot thickens,” her grandma said. “I’m all ears.”

“Well, don’t be,” Maxine said. “I promised Tanya I’d look into it but I’m not doing anything other than giving the police anything I learn and letting them investigate. And I certainly am NOT getting you involved.”

Her grandmother had been there when a guest died during an event she catered the previous Christmas. It had upset her horribly and Maxine had vowed never to get her involved again.

Which was easier said than done.  Grandma Ellie tended to know everything going on and didn’t like being left out.  And Maxine couldn’t help thinking she’d taken karate classes for a reason.

“Anyway Patrick – or Ric – whatever you want to call him is picking me up in a few moments. “I’ll tell him all about it and leave it up to him to decide what he wants to do about it.”

Patrick, however, had shown no interest whatsoever. Not in the protestors anyway.

He’d greeted Grandma Ellie like a long-lost relative and gone out of his way to charm her. “I hear you’re a karate master.”

“I figured it couldn’t hurt. And you never know when it’s going to come in handy.”

“My thinking exactly which is why I’m teaching Maxine self-defense. You could help her practice and she might be able to show you some new moves.”

Maxine gave him a dirty look.  He wasn’t supposed to be encouraging Grandma Ellie and she told him as much as they drove to the gym they were using for self-defense training.

The smile he gave her was pure mischief. “And now you understand how I feel.”

“Yes,” she said. “But…I’ve never purposefully involved myself in anything dangerous.”

He just looked at her. “Maxine, you’ve gone after killers.”

“But only to save my business.” The virtuous glow she felt disappeared as she remembered Zak. Now was not the time to tell him about Zak’s development she realized as they drove into the parking lot. She’d tell him later, when they weren’t in the middle of a conversation on taking chances. After all, she wasn’t. She was going to pass on the information she knew and keep out of it.

The main dojo was being used for a class of about ten from what little she could see and hear of it before going into a smaller room with Patrick.

They pulled mats out together covering the floor with them.

“Tonight we’re going to do some floor work. Are you OK with that?”

The look he gave her sent a zing of sexual awareness through her even as she did her best to pretend she hadn’t noticed. “There’s only so far yelling at them, attacking them with your bag or whatever else you have on hand or running will do for you,” she said levelly.

“Good, because I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” he said. “Lie down on the mats with your legs spread apart.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, doing as he asked. But she couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable lying there with her legs open. Especially when he got down in front of her. And she was more than aware he was a man. A very attractive man with wide shoulders tapering down to six-pack abs and….

“Now we’re going to pretend I’m the attacker,” he said. “You’ve tried everything but he’s got you on the ground, you’re scared and angry.”

“OK,” she said. But Patrick didn’t scare her in the least when he moved in over her. No, he had her heart beating double time. Not good. Focus she told herself. This was a teaching moment.

But she could see his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned over her. She tried to ignore the sexual undertones and concentrate even as she found herself breathing more quickly. Friends, just friends.

“Remember, you’re probably already going to be kicking at him and hitting him with your hands, scratching him. But now he’s over top of you and he’s not going to stop.” His voice sounded gruff, deeper than ever and sexy as hell.

“If he’s stopped at your hips, or stopped trying to get his pants down, kick the shit out of him. But if the guy comes over-top of you put your hands out not allowing him to come down. Then you’re going to bring your arms down in a crossed position over his arms with thumb and fingers hooking on to his arms. Try and break his hold by bringing your arms down. That’s going to force his elbows down when you snap down really hard. Let’s practice that now.”

“OK,” she said but the atmosphere had gone from sexy to serious in about sixty seconds. Even after they’d practiced several times she still looked at him in despair. “But how will I ever do it fast enough when it’s an actual attacker coming at me?” she asked.

“Practice,” he said gruffly. “Besides if I have my way you won’t put yourself in a situation where you need these skills.

She sat up looking at him defiantly. “I’m not going to live my life wrapped in saran wrap.”

He sighed. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“OK, then,” she said with fresh purpose. “Time to practice. Come and get me!”

But although they practiced numerous times she still didn’t feel as if she had a lock on the self-defense. She told him as much.

Then he reached out, gently touching her chin with his hand, his eyes looking into her soul. “We’ve only just begun,” he said softly. “And you could still do some serious damage to any scumbag stupid enough to come after you.” His eyes darkened. “Not to mention they’re going to have to get through me first to get to you.”