Chocolate Covered Murder (18 page)

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Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Chocolate Covered Murder
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The young officer nodded. “I hope, uh, I hope Eddie's okay.”
“Yeah,” said Barney, straightening his shoulders. He turned to Lucy. “Let's go.”
It was only a short drive to the Community Church, where Marge was just coming out of the door, an empty pie basket slung over her arm. She was wearing a flattering knit hat and scarf that matched her green eyes and smiled as they pulled up, recognizing Lucy's car. When she noticed Barney in the passenger seat, her brow furrowed in concern.
Lucy braked and Barney got out, slowly, and lumbered clumsily across the sidewalk to his wife's side. He lowered his head, speaking to her, and Lucy saw Marge's face crumple. Then, taking Barney's arm, she hurried to get in the car.
“Let's go, Lucy,” she said, taking charge. “As fast as you can.”
In a matter of minutes Lucy reached the small “cottage” hospital that served the town's basic medical needs; the ambulance was parked outside the ER entrance. Lucy dropped Marge and Barney off at the door and parked the car. When she joined them in the waiting room, they were talking to Doc Ryder.
“He was lucky,” the doctor was saying. “A few minutes later and, well, this story would have a different ending.”
“He's going to be okay?” asked Lucy.
“Well, let's just say his chances are good at the moment,” said the doctor. He took Lucy's elbow and guided her to a corner of the waiting room, apart from Marge and Barney. “We've got a real problem on our hands,” he said, shaking his head. “This is the third overdose this week.”
Lucy's jaw dropped. “Third?” She knew that Tinker's Cove was a small town, with a population of less than five thousand. Three overdoses in one week constituted an epidemic.
“It's out of control,” said Doc Ryder. “We've always had a problem with drugs here in town but I've never seen it this bad. The stuff is pouring in from somewhere.”
Lucy knew that illegal drugs had long been available to those who wanted them, but it wasn't terribly obvious. There were plenty of secluded areas in town where deals could be conducted; plenty of places where a user could get a fix unobserved. Police occasionally made a bust and sometimes the illicit traffic erupted in violence, as it had last year when Rick Juergens and Slash Milley were murdered. But most people in town had little or no contact with drugs except those they bought with a prescription.
“People need to know what's going on,” said Doc Ryder, peering at her over his half-moon glasses.
“I'll see what I can do,” said Lucy. “I'll check with Ted and give you a call next week.”
“You know how to reach me,” said the doctor, giving her a nod before going back to Marge and Barney. They made a tight little circle and Lucy felt it was time for her to go; she wasn't needed here. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need to make sure the girls were okay, to reassure herself that they were safe and sound and straight.
Chapter Fifteen
L
ucy was leaving the hospital when she saw Max's big old silver pickup truck speed into the icy parking lot, taking the turn too fast. She held her breath, watching as the driver zoomed into a vacant spot and braked hard. The door opened and Lily jumped out, still wearing her red-and-white-striped apron with the
FERN'S FAMOUS FUDGE
logo.
Lucy waited inside the doorway and grabbed the girl's arm as she hurried in.
“Eddie's going to be okay,” she said. “You can slow down.”
Lily whirled around. “Let me go,” she said, pulling her arm away. The girl was a nervous wreck, twitching and shivering.
“Take it easy,” said Lucy, in mother mode. “Everything's going to be okay.”
Even as she spoke she realized how ridiculous her words were. Things weren't okay for Lily, far from it. Her father had been murdered, her mother was in jail, and her boyfriend had just overdosed.
“Where's Eddie?”
“In the ER,” said Lucy, pointing down the hall.
Lily started to run off and Lucy called after her. “His mom and dad are already there.”
Lily stopped in her tracks and suddenly hunched over, as if in pain. “They are?”
Concerned, Lucy approached her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” Lily was nodding like a bobble-head doll. “What are they doing here?”
“They're his parents, they love him.” Lily was clearly in some distress, trembling from head to toe. “Do you want me to take you to them?”
“No!” she shouted. “No, no, no!”
“Okay,” said Lucy, who was completely confused. “Let me buy you a cup of tea,” she suggested. “It will warm you up and help you relax.”
“Tea.” Lily said the word slowly, as if she'd never heard of it.
“Yes. Tea. We'll have a cup of tea in the cafeteria and you can pull yourself together and then you can see Eddie.” Lucy had to admit her motives were mixed. She wanted to help Lily, who was obviously in trouble, but she also hoped to ask her a few questions about her mother.
Lily was staring at her warily, as if she sensed a trap. “Who are you, anyway?” she demanded.
“I'm Sara's mom. You know, Sara works at the shop with you.”
“Right.” Lily bit her lip. “Mom's gonna be mad. I better get back to the shop.”
Lucy's jaw dropped. Dora was in jail, awaiting arraignment for murder, and had bigger things to worry about. But before she could say a word, Lily disappeared back through the door. Lucy started after her, but by the time she got outside, Lily was in the truck and speeding out of the parking lot.
Shaking her head, Lucy headed for her own car, pulling the list of errands out of her pocket. Post office. Right. She checked her watch and discovered she just had time to make it before it closed at noon. But as she drove along the familiar roads, she struggled to figure out what was going on with Lily. The poor girl was clearly an emotional mess, but who could blame her? Considering everything that had happened to her, it was no wonder she was struggling. Thank goodness she had her grandmother and great-grandmother, Flora and Fern, to take care of her.
 
Leaving the post office, Lucy noticed the lights were on in the
Pennysaver
office and decided on impulse to stop in. As she suspected, Ted was there, hunched over his desk.
“Hi,” she said. “What are you doing here on a Saturday? You should be getting ready for the ball tonight.”
Ted laughed. “I won't need much time, but Pam is making a day of it. She's getting the works at the Salt Aire Spa.”
“Lucky her.” Lucy felt a twinge of jealousy but resolutely ignored it. “Did you hear about Dora?” she asked.
“That's why I'm here. The cops had a press conference this morning. Horowitz was unusually chatty.”
“Really?” Lucy had taken off her hat and gloves and was loosening her scarf. “What did he say?”
Ted stopped typing and looked at her, twisting his mouth into a scowl. “I don't know. Maybe I'm hallucinating or something, but I got the feeling something was going on. It's all circumstantial, there were no witnesses... .”
“You'd hardly expect a witness.”
“It's more than that. They didn't have a weapon, no concrete evidence. Just a theory.”
“That she was a woman spurned?” Lucy's voice was dramatic.
Ted nodded. “Yeah. She killed Tamzin out of jealousy, and they're reopening the investigation into Max's death, figuring to charge her with that, too.”
Lucy sat down, mashing her hat, gloves, and scarf together in her lap. “I expected as much.” She sighed. “What about Tamzin? Any family?” She paused. “How old was she, anyway?”
Ted laughed. “You women are all alike—that's what Pam wanted to know, too.”
“And?” prompted Lucy.
“Forty-six.”
“I knew it!” crowed Lucy. “I knew she was no spring chicken!”
“She was well preserved, you've got to give her that,” said Ted. “And there's a husband... .”
“A husband?”
“Well, an ex. Career army, in Afghanistan. They stayed in touch, there were letters and photos in her apartment.”
“I had no idea.” Lucy suddenly felt ashamed of her uncharitable opinions of Tamzin.
Ted shrugged. “Nobody did.”
 
When Lucy returned to the church basement later that afternoon for the judging, she found the air was heavy with the scent of sugar and chocolate. The tables Sid had arranged under Sue's instructions were now covered with white cloths and packed with desserts of all kinds, arranged by category. There was a table with nothing but pies and fruit tarts, another with cookies and cupcakes, and several others devoted to all sorts of chocolate treats. Smaller tables with red balloon centerpieces and chairs were scattered around the room, ready for the customers who would buy the treats after the judging, and then consume them along with tea and coffee. Just looking at all the goodies was enough to cause a diabetic coma, but nobody was interested in checking them out. Instead, everybody was talking about Dora's arrest. That was fine with Lucy, who was relieved that news of Eddie Culpepper's overdose hadn't reached the grapevine yet.
“She was always a prankster,” recalled Franny Small, her face unnaturally smooth and tight thanks to a recent face-lift. Franny owned a wildly successful jewelry company and could afford anything she wanted; her Lexus was parked outside. “I remember she got in trouble when she was in high school—something about an effigy of the principal.”
“It wasn't an effigy,” offered Luanne Roth, who had recently contacted Lucy about publicizing the twentieth reunion of her class at Tinker's Cove High School. “We were in the same class, you know, and there was quite a fuss. It was a sign. A bed sheet they hung from the roof that said something bad about Mr. Wilkerson; he was the principal then. I can't remember exactly what it said but it was insulting.”
“They let her graduate but they kicked her out of the National Honor Society,” said Lydia Volpe. Now retired, Lydia had taught kindergarten to all four of Lucy's kids. “It was quite a scandal at the time. The police prosecuted and she was on probation and had to perform community service and couldn't go to college right away. They postponed her admission until her probation was completed.” She paused, her huge brown eyes momentarily unfocused as she dredged her memory. “I don't know if she ever did go, now that I think about it.”
“I think she went right to work in the shop,” said Luanne.
“She got pregnant,” said Franny, with a little sniff.
“That's right,” agreed Lydia. “We had quite a little flurry of teen pregnancies around then.”
“Well, I know Dora has a unique sense of humor, but getting in trouble for a high school stunt is one thing and murder is another,” said Lucy.
“A double murder,” offered Dot Kirwan, joining the knot of gossipers. They all looked at her expectantly, knowing she was the police chief's mother and most likely had the latest information. “They're most likely charging her with Max's murder, too.”
“Now that I don't believe,” said Luanne. “They've been on and off ever since junior high school. I mean, even though they're divorced, I still think of them as a couple. I think everybody who was in school with them does. They were always fighting and making up. The girls would side with Dora and the boys with Max; it was high drama in the cafeteria. A real soap opera, a new installment every day.”
“Well, if it was a soap opera, this was the final episode,” said Dot. “They've got witnesses who saw Dora on the ice, arguing with Max, the evening before he was killed.”
If that was true it was bad news for Dora, thought Lucy, who remembered Barney telling her that Dora said the last time she saw Max was at the house, when he came to help her with her car. Did she lie, or were the witnesses mistaken? Was it Dora, or someone else?
“Max had been seeing a lot of Tamzin,” said Luanne, who worked at the Irish pub by the harbor. “They came in for drinks quite a few times.”
“A classic love triangle with a tragic ending,” said Lydia, welling up with tears. “I remember Max and Dora, they were in some of my first classes. I had such high hopes for them—especially Dora. She was such a bright little thing.”
Lucy gave her a hug. “Well, she's innocent until proven guilty.”
“That's right,” said Dot, with a smart nod. “If you ask me, I don't think Dora would hurt a fly.”
“You know she makes those dirty chocolates,” said Franny, pursing her lips with disapproval. “She sells them on the Internet.”
“I've seen the chocolates—they're not offensive,” said Lucy. “My own daughter works there, packing them, and I certainly wouldn't let her handle anything I didn't approve of.”
“Dora's always marched to her own drummer,” said Dot, “but that doesn't make her a murderer.”
“Is the case against her strong?” asked Lucy. “They must have evidence... .”
“Circumstantial,” said Dot. “And she's a smart girl. Last I heard, she's refusing to talk to investigators—you know most perpetrators are only too happy to incriminate themselves. My Jim says if it wasn't for the fact that the bad guys aren't too smart and love to talk, they'd hardly convict anybody.”
“I saw Flora this morning,” said Lucy. “She said they're looking for a lawyer.”
“Smart,” said Dot, with an approving nod. “That's the other thing in Dora's favor. She's got a lot of support from her family.”
“That's for sure,” agreed Lydia. “Flora was always there for every conference, every school event. And Fern, too. And then when Lily came along, all three of them would show up.”
Sue was tapping on a glass with a spoon, so conversation ceased as everyone focused on the panel of judges gathered beside her. Sue then made the introductions, but Lucy wasn't listening because she recognized them all: Roger Wilcox, chairman of the board of selectmen; Hildy Schultz, who owned a bakery; and Fred Farnsworth, executive chef at the Queen Victoria Inn. They were nodding and smiling and saying nice things about all the entries, but Lucy's mind was miles away, thinking of Dora, sitting in the county jail. As a reporter Lucy had been there numerous times, covering various stories. It was one of her least favorite assignments; she hated the moment the door clanged shut behind her, even though she knew she could leave whenever she wanted. Nevertheless, she always sympathized with the inmates, who couldn't.
Of course, Dora was tough. She was probably better able to withstand the indignities of imprisonment than most. And, as Dot had mentioned, she had plenty of support from her family. If anybody could successfully conceal a saw in a cake and smuggle it in to the jail, it would be Flora, she thought, as a little smile flitted across her lips.
Thinking about that tight family of women, who all lived and worked together, she wondered if perhaps Dora was protecting somebody else. Not Fern, she was too old to manage such elaborate murders. She could probably bash somebody on the head or shoot them, but staging the bodies the way the murderer had was a big job and Lucy doubted she had the strength. Flora, however, was a big woman with a lot of determination. And she'd been handling heavy sacks of sugar and other ingredients her entire life. Flora was also judgmental, and used to getting her way, according to Miss Tilley, and had forced Max to marry Dora when she got pregnant. Perhaps Flora didn't approve of the divorce and would rather see Dora as a widow than a divorcée with an ex who kept hanging around. Lucy was wondering if Flora wasn't a likelier suspect for the murders than her daughter when Dot elbowed her in the ribs.

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