Death is Semisweet (18 page)

The whole day had been tinged with melancholy anyway. Stephanie thought that her mother and aunt and uncle were more acutely aware of the rift in the family this year, having recently been assembled together with the brothers. Stephanie’s grandmother had done her usual, she came to Stephanie’s mom’s first, then took off the minute lunch was over to go to Junior’s. Junior and his and Claude’s families ate their Christmas dinner in the evening. Stephanie’s father took his mother-in-law and dropped her off at the front door of Junior’s house. It was sad.

Suddenly Janie came around the corner, rage on her pinched face, slamming something down on the card
table. It scared Stephanie because she was half asleep.

“Why,” Janie said loudly, “do we have to have chocolate cake on Christmas? Why not pumpkin pie or mincemeat like other people?” She tipped the plate with the slice of cake over and smashed it into the table, catching a few cards in the frosting. “I hate chocolate!” she said and stormed out of the room.

For a while no one else moved or made a sound.

H
eaven and Iris were on horseback, riding behind Del and his family, who were also on horseback. There was about two inches of new snow on the ground. It was something out of a picture postcard for Colorado or some other Western state, only this time it was Kansas that looked so lovely. They were riding on the Flint Hills side of the family farm.

One side of the property, the northern side, was farmland. The southern side was the start of the Flint Hills, cattle country. Del and his father before him raised crops on one side and cattle on the other. The family had gone south into the grazing land for a holiday ride.

“I got married for the first time right over there,” Heaven said as she pointed to a hill just to their west. “There were horse and buggies and lots of folks came on horseback to the ceremony, and see that little chapel out on the hillock? The Presbyterian minister brought his fancy robes and married us right out there. It was quite a party.”

Iris looked at her mother. “I always think of you as a rock-and-roll, urban girl. What a prairie bride you must have been.”

“It’s the most beautiful place, isn’t it?” Heaven was lost in her memories of that day.

“You know how people used to say that the television show
Seinfeld
was about nothing? Well, this place is the
Seinfeld
of America,” Iris said, without rancor.

“It might be about nothingness, but it’s not about nothing,” Heaven said as she looked out on the rolling plains covered with snow.

The horizon met the ground effortlessly, the color of both blending into the other. The bright blue sky of earlier in the day had dulled into a gray that popped out only slightly from the snowy plains. They had all cantered over a pasture, Iris and Heaven both squealing with delight and a little fear. Heaven only rode three or four times a year so she wasn’t used to the power of a big horse running. Now they were almost back to the farm and the horses suddenly turned from an east/west direction to the north, where their barn was located.

The whole family rode into the barn and took the tack off the horses, fed them some Christmas oats and headed into the house. When they got inside, Heaven’s purse was ringing.

Heaven didn’t talk all the time on her cell phone, she thought it was tacky, but she felt much safer traveling around alone and driving home late at night from the restaurant with a cell phone in her bag.

“Hello and Merry Christmas,” Heaven said. She paused and then said, “Thanks, Hank. We’ll see you in a couple of hours. Me too.” She clicked the phone off and looked at Iris. “We better go, honey.”

“What’s the matter, Mom?”

“Hank says Stephanie called him at the hospital. She said to call her as soon as we got back. Her cousin Jane stormed out of Christmas dinner. But that’s not why he called.” She didn’t continue, though, staring out the window at the rolling hills, wanting to go back a
couple of hours and stay there. She heard laughter coming from the kitchen, her sister-in-law Debbie rattling pans.

“What, Mom?”

“Someone broke every window at Café Heaven and wrote graffiti all over the front of the building.”

“Did Hank see it?”

“No, Bonnie Weber called him. The patrol unit called her, knowing she was my friend. They didn’t think anything inside had been touched. I guess someone wrote, ‘Death Is Semisweet’ all over the outside of Café Heaven.”

T
he windows of Sal’s barber shop were crowded with faces peering out. Mona, Joe, Murray, Heaven and Iris were there, and Sal, of course. Everyone was lined up watching the glass crew across the street replacing the windows in Café Heaven as if it were a play on a stage, put on for their amusement. Only no one was amused. The words, “Death is Semisweet” had been written in dark brown paint, paint the color of dark chocolate. They looked ominous.

“What did you do last night, Heaven,” Sal asked, “camp out over there so no one would come in and help themselves to the vodka?”

Heaven, staring vacantly across the street, shook her head and took another piece of chocolate chip gingerbread that Mona had brought in. They were all anxiety eating. “Hank had already called the glass service. Bonnie told him who to call. They work twenty-four hours, the glass people, because lots of barroom brawls and
breaking and entering occur at night. By the time Iris and I got back from the farm—”

Murray broke in. “Hank called me and I came right down and met the glass guys, opened up. They nailed up these four-by-eight pieces of plywood for the night.”

“—they were already almost done covering up the windows,” Heaven continued.

“Securing the premises, they call it,” Iris offered.

Mona sniffed. “I’m sorry. I just don’t get it. What in the world do you have to do with all of this chocolate mess?”

“She’s a friend of the Chocolate Queen,” Murray offered.

“Who just happens to be related to the Fosters,” Sal added. “And we know what’s happened to the Fosters lately.”

“Mom also let the police have a meeting of all the Foster family at the café,” Iris said.

Joe, who’d been quiet until he’d finished two cups of coffee, was now ready to speculate. “And Heaven is one of the featured chefs at Foster’s big chocolate party on New Year’s Eve.” He looked sharply at Heaven. “Don’t tell me you’re going to show up at that event after this.”

Iris was nodding vehemently, obviously agreeing with Joe. “I told Mom last night they should cancel it. It would be just asking for trouble to have some big party sponsored by Foster’s right now. Yes, Mom could get hurt, but there’s also the possibility that everyone that attended could get mowed down with an automatic weapon or something. I’m beginning to think that the brother who got arrested for killing that African guy was framed. So many things have happened since then that I have this mental picture of a deranged chocolate hater out there, armed and dangerous.”

Heaven left the window and flopped down on one of the many Naugahyde and chrome chairs that lined the barber shop. “Remember that brother Claude is out on bail. He could still be on some terror spree. But the deranged part I think is true, whoever it is. That’s why I’m going to the hospital this morning. Hank had an idea last night.” She stopped talking, deep in thought, and the whole room waited quietly for her to tell them Hank’s idea.

After what seemed like hours but was just a few seconds, Sal cleared his throat loudly. “Are you gonna tell us or what?” he said gruffly.

Heaven started. “Oh, sorry. Well, Hank and Iris and I were discussing the fact that it seemed like someone really had a grudge against either chocolate in general or Foster’s in particular and Hank suggested that Bonnie and I talk to a therapist who deals with eating disorders to see what a professional thought of the whole idea. Could a person be so fixated on a certain food that they’d actually kill because of it?”

“Right. I bet what Hank really said was that maybe Bonnie should consult an eating disorder shrink and somehow you stuck your nose in,” Sal said as he laid out his combs and clippers.

Heaven folded her arms over her chest. “So? It’s my restaurant that just got vandalized. I guess that puts me right in the middle of this. Besides, I sell food for a living. I’m curious about food crackpots, so this will benefit me as much as Bonnie.”

“How did you get Bonnie to agree to you going along?” Mona asked, always in awe of her friend’s chutzpah.

Heaven got up and stretched her arms. “Ouch. I’m sore from riding a horse yesterday. I asked Hank if he
could recommend someone over at the medical center. Then I asked him if he would call that person up early this morning and tell them that the police needed to consult with her, turns out it’s a her, right away about a case. After he did that I called Bonnie and told her it was all set up, that we were going to see a food shrink about eating disorders at ten this morning.”

“Smooth,” Mona said, shaking her head.

“Iris, what did you get for Christmas from your mommy?” Joe asked, changing the subject.

Iris beamed. “My mommy is taking me to Paris in April, just the two of us.”

“If the deranged chocolate killer doesn’t get me first,” Heaven said lightly. “Murray, I called the insurance man and he says my insurance covers the windows. Will you make sure the glass guys leave an invoice so we can give it to the insurance company?”

Murray held up his hands like he was on top of it. “I’m going to stand right here until they’re done, and also make sure the painters get here and fix the graffiti. They said they wouldn’t be here until mid-morning.”

“Thank you and you can even charge me for your time. Iris, what are you going to do, honey?”

“I think Joe and I are going to go have a real breakfast at the Corner.”

“Then I’m outta here. I’ll come back to the restaurant as soon as we’re done. Our meeting is at the hospital so I won’t be too long,” Heaven said and walked out the door.

“They’ve got to cancel that party,” Iris said as she watched her mother cross the street.

·  ·  ·

“
T
here’s lots to choose from,” Dr. Helen Walker said, tossing a paper across her desk toward Bonnie Weber and Heaven.

Bonnie took the page and looked up with a quizzical expression. “What’s this?”

“A little article I found on the effects of chocolate on the human brain. At least three hundred known chemicals have been identified in chocolate. Most of these chemicals create good feelings.”

Bonnie folded up the copy. “Can I take this with me to read later?”

“Yes, of course.”

Heaven broke in, impatient. “Can you just give us the drift?”

“Well, the best known is probably caffeine, which is only present in chocolate in small quantities. But there’s also another weak stimulant, theobromine. Then there’s phenylethylamine, which is related to amphetamines. All of these increase the activity of neurotransmitters in portions of the brain that control our ability to pay attention and stay alert.”

“Sounds like coffee. Is that all?”

Dr. Walker shook her head. “They’ve done some work out in San Diego. Chocolate may have something similar to THC, the active ingredient in marijuana, and that component could be creating the drug-induced psychosis that’s associated with chocolate craving.”

Bonnie beamed. “Now we’re talking.”

The doctor held up her hand. “It isn’t exactly THC, it’s called anadamide. The brain also produces anadamides naturally. All these neurotransmitters, such as anadamide and theobromine, break down quickly after they’re produced by the brain. But there’s some evidence that some other chemicals in chocolate inhibit
the breakdown, so you feel better, longer. It’s really amazing stuff.”

“So is it addictive?” Heaven asked.

“Not physically, but certainly I’ve had some patients that were psychologically addicted.”

“Do you have any right now?” Bonnie asked, knowing the doctor wouldn’t want to share that information.

Dr. Walker smiled and shook her head. “Good try.”

“Come on, doc, I’ve got two homicides and a string of vandalisms that are all focused on chocolate, and Foster’s in particular,” Bonnie said.

“I understand, and I will say that I don’t have anyone I’m treating right now that comes right to mind.”

“But if most of the things that chocolate does to our brains are things that we consider positive, why would anyone hate chocolate candymakers?” Heaven asked.

“Most of the people I treat, most people with eating disorders, have terrible self-esteem and self-worth issues. If you think of yourself as a bad person and chocolate makes you feel good, happy for a few minutes, then you have conflict about chocolate,” Dr. Walker said.

“Sounds perfectly logical,” Bonnie said as she stood up and put the article in her big purse. “I can see another Twinkie defense coming my way. Thanks for the information. If someone comes in and confesses to being the Foster’s Chocolates killer, I don’t suppose I’ll be getting a call?”