Death of a Chocolate Cheater: A Food Festival Mystery (21 page)

Which one was telling the truth?

I checked Harrison’s head. The scarf seemed to be helping. Some of the bleeding was abating.

“That blood will never come out,” Reina said.

I looked at the scarf, thinking what an odd thing that was to say. I noticed a light brown stain on the end of the scarf that I hadn’t used for Harrison’s wound. The stain was about the size of a Hershey bar and resembled the stain on my T-shirt, the one left by a smear of melted chocolate during my food fight with Dillon.

Only this one was a little different. I held the stained part of the scarf up to my nose.

It didn’t smell like chocolate. . . .

This was a bloodstain.

Reina had been wearing that scarf at the party. In fact, she’d been wearing it every time I’d seen her in her chocolate outfits.

Except once—when she was in the room with the vat of chocolate.

I tried to recall the video and visualized her standing
beside the vat, a look of horror in her eyes, her hand grasping her neck.

Her long, thin,
bare
neck.

What had been different about that picture?

It was the only time she hadn’t been wearing that chocolate-chip-decorated scarf.

And now it was stained with blood. Polly’s blood?

I looked up at her.

“How did you get this stain?” I asked her, my heart beginning to beat faster.

“What?” Reina said. “I have no idea.”

“It’s blood, isn’t it?”

She shrugged and began stammering. “No. Of course not. Unless it came from Harrison.”

I stood up. “This is dried blood, not Harrison’s blood. Reina, I saw the video from the party.”

She blinked. “You couldn’t have. It was destroyed.”

I shook my head. “J.C. had downloaded it to his computer before it was smashed by that hit-and-run driver.”

“His computer?” she said, her eyes narrowing. “How did you . . . ?”

“Dil—,” I started to say, then changed it to “A friend of mine managed to find it. We watched the footage, and there was no sign of Harrison doing what you claimed you saw.”

“You must have missed that part,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t think so,” I said, “because I noticed something else. You were wearing your scarf at the party on the veranda, but when we went into the room with the vat of chocolate, it was gone from your neck.”

“So? I took it off. . . .”

“You took it off because you got blood on it when you hit Polly over the head with Harrison’s auger and shoved Polly into that vat, didn’t you? You only pretended to put Polly in a cab, but you must have put her somewhere else. Where? In your car? Then what? You sneaked out while the crowd was still on the veranda, brought her into the room with the vat of chocolate, hit her over the head with the auger, and pushed her into the vat, getting blood on your scarf. So you took it off and probably stuffed it in your purse to clean later. Then you returned to the party, had everyone come into the room, and pretended to be shocked when you saw Polly’s hand pressed against the wall of the vat.”

Reina glanced at the ugly-looking auger that Harrison had brought with him. It lay on the floor at her feet. She bent down, grabbed it, and raised it over her head.

I felt beads of sweat break out on my forehead. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest.

“Reina . . .” I held up my hands as if they’d protect me from the metal pipe. “The police and ambulance will be here any minute. You don’t want to make this any worse than it is.”

She smiled. “No, they won’t.”

Uh-oh. She hadn’t called them.

She’d only pretended to call 911 and the security guard. I was alone in a trailer with a dying man and a killer who was holding a nasty weapon.

With nothing to defend myself.

Except my big mouth.

“Reina! How are you going to explain two dead people in your trailer? You can’t get away with this.”

“Easy,” she said, lowering the auger a little. “Harrison killed Polly and I have the proof—the other auger with his fingerprints. He came here to kill me and get it back. You got in the way, and he hit you over the head with this one. That gave me the chance to grab a chair and defend myself.”

I had to admit, it sounded plausible. Now what?

“At least tell me why you killed Polly.” I backed up a step toward the door.

She moved forward a step, holding that menacing auger higher, ready to strike.

“Isn’t it obvious? She was blackmailing me, like she was everyone else.”

“What for?”

“Why should I tell you?” Reina asked.

“Because in a few minutes I’m not going to be able to tell anyone, so why not?”

“Good point,” she said, grinning, no doubt at the thought of killing me too. “Okay, I’ll tell you, if you promise not to tell.” She laughed at her morbid joke.

I nodded, playing along, buying time.

“She found out I killed George. It was an accident, for real this time. I was over at his place, talking about the festival and whatnot, and she came by. George was quite the ladies’ man, you know—or maybe you didn’t. Anyway, when she burst in on us, we were sort of in a compromising position. She starting yelling at me and calling George a two-timing jerk. She looked like she might kill someone, so I left before things got ugly. I got in my car, which was parked out front, and apparently he came running out after me. . . . I didn’t see him. . . . I backed up and hit him. Unfortunately, Polly saw the whole thing. But instead of telling the police, she wanted money to keep quiet. I didn’t feel like paying her, so I thought up a way to get rid of her. Then I d clueless Wendy. Problem solved.”

“You just said it was an
accident
. You should have told the police the truth.”

“I know, but believe it or not, it wasn’t the first time I’d hit someone with my car. When I was a teenager, I hit a guy on a bicycle. Put him in a wheelchair. It was ruled accidental, but it stayed on my record. Another accident wouldn’t have looked good, you know?”

“Why did you try to kill J.C.?”

“You know, I hated to do it because he was a sweet kid, but like you, he noticed the spot on my scarf and mentioned it after he played back the footage and saw I wasn’t wearing the scarf during the second half of the party. He was starting to put two and two together, so I told him to bring his camera over and I’d take a look and explain everything. Then I waited outside for him to leave his apartment. And hit the gas. It was almost too easy. I’d planned to break in and get his computer too. But time ran out.”

Time was running out for me too. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back. I thought about pleading with her to let me go, but there was no way she would do that. This woman had ice in her veins. It was fight or flight, and neither one looked promising.

I had a sudden thought. “Password!”

“What?” Reina frowned at me.

“One, two, three, four!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Password, one, two, three, four,” I repeated. “That’s
your
password, isn’t it?”

Reina looked stunned. “How did you know that?”

“Jake figured it out. And he knows all about you too,” I bluffed.

“No, he doesn’t,” she said. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

“How else would I know your password? Remember when we stopped by the office and Jake accidentally knocked some of your papers on the floor? That’s when he took your cell phone. He figured out your password and downloaded a whole bunch of your saved messages and contacts and everything. If something happens to me, I’m sure he’ll go through all that stuff and put two and two together, just like J.C. And so will the police.”

Reina thought for a moment, then said, “Call him.”

Uh-oh. Had I just put Jake in jeopardy?

“What for?”

“Get out your cell phone and call him. Tell him to meet you here and that you’ve learned something. And don’t say anything more or I’ll kill you on the spot.”

I got out my phone and reluctantly punched Jake’s autodial number.

“Darcy?”

“Hi, Jake. Uh, can you meet me at Reina’s trailer? She has a
tell
. . . .” I glanced at Reina. She waved the auger threateningly. “I mean, she has something to
tell
you about the murder.”

Reina nodded and mouthed, “Hang up.”

I did as I was told, hoping Jake got my
real
message. I glanced down at Harrison. He’d gone quiet and wasn’t moving. If he didn’t get help soon, he wasn’t going to make it.

“Good girl,” Reina said. “Sorry I have to do this, but I don’t want you running out the door or screaming when Jake gets here.” She raised the auger.

I ducked and ran to the other side of the room behind her desk.

She came at me with a vengeance, growling as she began swinging the metal rod. It came slamming down on her desk, just missing me. She raised it again.

She had backed into a corner.

I looked around for anything,
anything
I could use to protect myself. My purse lay on the floor, next to a bunch of posters. With nowhere else to go, I pressed myself against the back wall.

Where was Jake?

Something bright caught my eye. Lining the shelf next to me were the three trophies Reina would be handing out to the contest winners. I lunged for the big one, three feet high, and grabbed it off the shelf.

Reina’s eyes flared. She swung the auger at me, but I blocked it with the heavy trophy. Reina’s auger went flying out of her hands.

As she bent down to reach for it, I brought the trophy down on her head.

She collapsed onto the floor, groaning. I sat down on her, hard, knocking the wind out of her. As she gasped for breath, I glanced around for something to tie her up with before she got a second wind.

Nothing.

Then I reached around behind me, slipped my hand up the back of my shirt, and unhooked my bra. With
practiced skill, I removed it from under my T-shirt, then used it to tie up Reina’s wrists behind her back.

Seconds later there was a knock on the door. I ran over and opened it.

“Darcy?” Jake said from the top step. Behind him stood two police officers

He’d figured out my clue!

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. A little shaky, but okay. Reina’s the killer. She murdered Polly and tried to kill J.C. Harrison needs an ambulance.” I spilled it all out as quickly as I could.

The cops followed Jake inside and took in the scene. One called for an ambulance while the other got out proper cuffs for Reina. I blushed as I untied my Victoria’s Secret 34C Dream Angels bra from her wrists.

Jake grinned and checked me out with a raised eyebrow.

“You tied her up with that?” he asked.

“It was all I had,” I said, stuffing the bra into my pants pocket.

“Great job,” he said. “I got your message. Very clever.”

“Thank God!” I said. “And you brought the police.”

“Thanks to you,” Jake said.

I really should have 911 on my speed dial, I thought.

*   *   *

A few minutes later an ambulance arrived to take Harrison Tofflemire to SF General, while Detective Shelton escorted Reina to the police station. She had a few
bruises from where the trophy had hit her, but otherwise she was well enough to go to jail.

I was shaken up, but I wanted to support Abby at the contest after all the work she’d done and headed over after talking to the detective, arriving just in time.

“Aunt Abby!” I called as I entered the bus. “I’m here!”

Aunt Abby looked up from the tray she was arranging and grinned. “Thank goodness. Where have you—” She cut herself off after looking me over. “What happened to you?”

I frowned, wondering what she meant. She pointed to a bruise on my arm and Harrison’s blood I had wiped on my shirt. In all the commotion with Reina, I hadn’t noticed that I’d somehow hurt my arm and figured I must have bumped it at some point. “I’m not sure about the bruise, but that’s not my blood. It’s Harrison’s.”

Aunt Abby’s eyebrows shot up. Dillon’s mouth fell open.

I realized the shocking statement I’d just made and tried to explain. “Oh, uh, he’s alive. They’ve taken him to the hospital.”

“What happened?” my aunt asked, shaking her head. Obviously, the more I said, the more I confused her.

I took a deep breath. “Reina was the one who killed Polly. Then she tried to kill Harrison when he figured out that she’d used part of his Chocolate Falls machine to knock out Polly. She ran down George too, but I don’t know if anyone can prove it, and it might have actually been an accident.” I was talking fast, worried about
making it to the contest tent on time, but I knew Aunt Abby wouldn’t go until she’d heard it all. “Then she tried to kill J.C., her videographer, because he
did
have incriminating footage on his camera after all. And then she made me lure Jake over to her trailer, planning to kill both of us, but I beaned her with the trophy you’re going to win in a few minutes and sat on her and tied her up with my bra. . . .” I was about out of breath. Reliving the scene brought back the fear I’d felt in the midst of everything, and I suddenly had to sit down.

“Goodness!” Aunt Abby said, wrapping an arm around me. “You poor dear. Dillon, get her a drink of water.”

“I just need a second,” I said, catching my breath. I downed the bottle of water Dillon handed me and sighed. “Don’t we have to get going?”

Aunt Abby looked at the clock. “I suppose, although if Reina’s not there . . .”

“I highly doubt she will be, since she’s on her way to jail,” I said.

There was a knock at the bus door. It was open and Willow suddenly appeared at the top of the steps.

“Hey, guys. There’s been a little change in plans,” she announced.

“What’s up?” Dillon asked. “Is the contest still on?”

“Yeah,” Willow said, “but guess who’s MC.”

No one said anything.

“Me!” Willow announced proudly. “I’m replacing Reina. How cool is that?”

“Cool,” Dillon said.

“Don’t you want to know why?” Willow asked, excitement evident in her green eyes.

I looked at Aunt Abby and Dillon, then decided to play dumb.

“Sure,” I said. “How come?”

“Reina was arrested for murder! Incredible, huh? Apparently, she killed that judge chick and tried to blame it on that old lady, and then she tried to kill J.C.! She was probably jealous that he liked me. Anyway, I gotta tell the other contestants the show is on. See you at the contest tent ASAP. Good luck!”

Willow bounded out of the bus, leaving the three of us a moment to take it all in.

“Well, let’s get over there,” Aunt Abby said. “We’ve got a contest to win!”

*   *   *

Aunt Abby, Dillon, and I finished gathering up the whoopie pies and carefully carted them over to the contest tent. As soon as I entered, I spotted Lyla Vassar, dressed in a smart chocolate-brown suit with matching stiletto heels, her hair cascading gently over her shoulders. Once again, she was drop-dead gorgeous—and hard to miss with her cameraman at her side. He was panning the room with his camera. The back of my neck prickled at the sight of her. I forced my gaze away and focused on finding Aunt Abby’s table in the crowded room. We located her assigned spot at the far side of the room, sandwiched between two other contestants I didn’t recognize.

I tried to ignore Lyla while helping Aunt Abby set up her display, but it wasn’t easy and I kept sneaking
looks at her. Aunt Abby placed each pie on a petite white doily and arranged them in a circle, with the most perfect one in the middle. I glanced on either side of my aunt’s table to check out the competition. A heavyset woman was arranging a platter of classic chocolate chip cookies on the right, and on the left, a man in chef’s whites fiddled with raspberries as he placed them on a luscious-looking chocolate cheesecake. My mouth started to water.

As soon as we’d finished showcasing the whoopie pies, I scanned the room for Jake. He was easy to find, since Lyla and her cameraman were now focused on him and his cream puffs. As usual, he looked hot in a fresh Dream Puff shirt stretched across his chest. He smiled as he talked into the microphone Lyla held in front of him. I watched, unable to look away until the interview was over. As soon as the camera turned off, Lyla reached over and touched Jake’s arm affectionately. Jake glanced up from rearranging his cream puffs and spotted me watching. I turned away quickly and pretended to busy myself with Aunt Abby’s display.

“Where are the judges?” Aunt Abby said, frowning as she searched the tent. “Do you think they might not show up after all?”

I shrugged, wondering the same thing. Neither Isabel Lau nor Simon Van Houten had arrived yet; nor was there any sign of a third judge at the judging table. Would they really be no-shows, in spite of the fact that Reina was in custody? Was all of this for nothing?

While we waited, I checked out the other tables. Among the twelve finalists, only a handful seemed to
be real contenders. I discounted the chocolate chip cookie lady, figuring those were a dime a dozen. And while tempting, the chocolate cheesecake didn’t seem like anything you couldn’t get at the grocery store. I spotted some white chocolate squares that looked about as appealing as ice cubes, some black-bottom cupcakes that had obviously deflated once they left the oven, a batch of ordinary-looking brownies from a guy who was stuck in the sixties (did they contain a little extra ingredient?), and several other offerings that didn’t compare to my aunt’s pies—or Jake’s puffs.