Hot Fudge Frame-Up: A Fudge Shop Mystery (23 page)

When I got home, I called Dillon. Back in his mother’s sports car, with Dillon beside me in the passenger’s seat holding another pie, I asked, “How the heck did you and Sam get along on that boat ride to the shipwreck with John?”

“We did it for Cody. He invited us both.”

“Have you ever wondered why?”

“To go fishing.”

Men could be so dense. “Cody was matchmaking, comparing the two of you on my behalf. I’m sure of it. I hope he doesn’t mind that it’s not Sam I’m dating. He likes Sam a lot.”

“So do I. Sam’s a good guy. So is Cody. We’ll work it out. I doubt you’ll witness a duel on the harbor docks.”

Dillon’s humor made me laugh. It always had. I hoped that dating him this time around meant I’d get to learn more about all the other sides to Dillon, and find them as wonderful.

I pointed the Corvette out of town.

“Where are we going, Ava?” Dillon asked.

“Libby Mueller’s. She needs another pie. It’s a good excuse to find out how Kelsey King poisoned Lloyd at Libby’s on Friday night. When we’re there, look around for lined paper, stolen cups, rifles, crayons, and mushrooms.”

I
parked the red Corvette next to Libby’s old gray Honda. It was around eight in the evening and still light out. Dillon, holding the strawberry pie, nodded to the small house and beater car. “Let’s hope she gets a good chunk of money from Lloyd.”

“I’m sure he did right by her.”

“You ever think she might have had something to do with his death?”

“Many times, Dillon. But the two of them had always gotten along, and there’s no need for Libby to murder Lloyd; she knew she was likely going to get an inheritance from him. Libby and Lloyd remained good friends all the way to the end.”

“You’re sure? What if Libby was secretly angry about Lloyd hiding her things in that box? Or what if Libby thought Mercy was paying too much attention to Lloyd’s matters?”

“The problem is that Libby’s easily swayed by people like Mercy and Kelsey. All we need to do is prove Kelsey poisoned Lloyd.”

“But what about that box? Piers Molinsky has it. Did you report that yet?”

“I can’t report it. I didn’t see it with him and Laura fainted, so I’m sure the sheriff won’t find her reliable.”

“Do you think Kelsey knows about the box? Maybe she and Piers uncovered it together at your shop.”

“Conjecture of course. But it could be that Kelsey is using Mercy’s vile letters to keep Mercy shut up and out of the way while Kelsey ingratiates herself with Libby.”

Libby came to the door. She swooned over the fresh strawberry pie.

“Thank you! Please come in. We’ll have a piece right now with coffee.”

“You’re sure you’re not too tired?”

“It doesn’t matter. I could use the company. After today, it feels like a morgue in here, no pun intended.”

Libby’s demeanor about the funeral encouraged me to be forthright. “Dillon and I just came from dinner at the Troubled Trout. That’s the last place I saw Lloyd, on Friday night at the fish boil. He was happy that night. You and Lloyd were together.”

“Luckily, yes. I have that nice memory.” She waved at us to take seats around her small dining table between the kitchen and living room. She grabbed cups from the cupboard. I craned my neck automatically, looking for Lloyd’s antique cups, but couldn’t see around the cupboard door very far. “What a lovely night that was,” Libby said. “The good memories gave me strength to get through today.”

I let my gaze travel about for paper, crayons, cups, the wooden box, but only saw a small tablet and pen on the kitchen counter near a telephone. I wouldn’t be able to riffle through drawers, so I settled into my agenda to figure out how Lloyd was poisoned. “Somebody mentioned that you had several friends stop by here later on Friday night. That was nice, too.”

Libby poured the coffee. “It was quite a houseful. Kelsey and Piers were here for a short while. Lloyd had invited them. Alex was here. Erik Gustafson stopped by briefly after he got off work. Mercy was here, but my dear friend had a few too many, so Erik drove her home while the rest stayed. And of course John Schultz was here.”

“John?” Pauline must not have known about that or she would have mentioned it.

“He was videotaping everything.”

“Everything? Were my guest chefs cooking?”

“I was mostly. Alex was telling us about his cookbook’s recipes and how the Native Americans had settled Door County eleven thousand years ago, which Kelsey loved because she said they’d be eating chemical-free plants back then.”

“Not necessarily true. Chemicals and gases come up from the earth all the time, but go on.”

“She was mixing up something from her forest foraging in a fry pan, I recall. I didn’t eat. I’d eaten enough at the fish boil.”

Bingo!
“But Lloyd ate some?”

“Oh yes. Alex served it up with a great flourish.”

“Everybody ate what Kelsey fixed?”

“I didn’t really notice. It was a mishmash of people in this tiny space.”

“John videotaped the dinner?” I had to be sure.

“Indeed. He liked the atmosphere. He said something about calling his show ‘The Friendship Foodie.’”

“Hmm. Libby, you must have heard by now about the autopsy.”

Dillon kept quiet, drinking his coffee.

Libby eased down in a chair across from me. “I don’t know how he could have been poisoned. We were all right here, eating everything.”

“Libby, Kelsey may have poisoned him. When you weren’t looking, she slipped something in his food. Then she followed him after he left because she knew he’d be woozy.”

“Kelsey? That sweet girl?”

I reached across the table to take her hand in mine. Her bones were thin. Although she had dyed her hair to look younger, her face wore plenty of wrinkles. “I’m sorry. Kelsey’s been using you to get access to Lloyd’s things. But I think we have a way of catching her red-handed. John was videotaping. All it’s going to take now is for the sheriff to get his hands on that video. He might be able to see Kelsey doing a sleight-of-hand trick to put poisonous mushrooms in the skillet. The sheriff is also checking on possible video or still-action cameras that somebody may have set up at the park by the lighthouse. Perhaps John set them up. He may have inadvertently captured Kelsey doing harm to Lloyd that night.”

Libby gasped. “Kelsey?” She slapped a hand over her mouth as she choked back a cry. I comforted her as best I could in the horrible reality we were in, and then Dillon and I excused ourselves.

When we got back on the road, with me driving again, which settled my nerves a little, Dillon said, “Good work back there, Deputy Oosterling.”

“Poor Libby.”

“You’re right. She’s the type of person who gets taken in by people.”

“Lloyd told me that Libby needed him watching out for her. People here are kindhearted, Dillon. It leaves some of them easy prey to charlatans.”

“All that’s left to do is to call the sheriff. Then we can get back to what’s really important.”

His lascivious smile made my breathing pause. The feeling was so warm and good that I resented having to think about a murder. I squeezed the steering wheel, wishing I could fall into Dillon’s arms instead. The murder had to have been accomplished by more than just Kelsey, yet Kelsey was so bullheaded and prideful I also couldn’t imagine her asking anybody to help her or share the riches she’d get from her plot to soak Libby.

As I drove us back in the red Corvette to my cabin, with the crisp night air whipping my ponytail in the wind and clearing my muddled head a little, my instincts and womanly intuition told me I was a fool about everything and everyone. This blaming Kelsey was all too easy, and frankly, anything that came easily in my life hadn’t been worth spit.

Did that apply to Dillon? Was I already falling too fast for him all over again? When Dillon kissed me good night on my front porch, the answer didn’t matter. He took me in his arms the way a good man should. His lips were hungry, eager, encouraging. I was floating in his arms, an ethereal experience in a heady mist of romantic ardor. I imagined us going inside, stripping off our clothes, tumbling in each other’s arms on the couch before we landed on the rug, where we’d make love in front of my fireplace.

I kicked at my door to open it, trying for some Hollywood movie star move while Dillon kept peppering sweet kisses down my neck, but he stopped.

We both stood back to catch a breath. He looked disheveled. I think my hands somehow were everywhere in his hair. I patted my hair and found my ponytail gone, my hair loose about my shoulders. A gray mist felt cool and damp against my hot face as I looked into his eyes.

“Do you want to come in?” I said.

“Better not,” he said. “I want to do this right this time.”

“Oh.” This time. Not like eight years ago. When we’d been a tad too hasty and eloped. But darn him, I ached inside. I remembered . . . all that other stuff that he was mighty good at, and I wanted it. A wanton woman, I know.

Dillon saved me from my thoughts with a big, goofy grin. He reached out with a finger to tip my head up and then kissed me sweetly, lingering just enough to make my knees wobble. He said, “I’m already liking this plan to get your grandparents back together.”

“Dillon, it’s more than a plan. I really do have feelings for you.”

“I know. I have feelings for you. The feelings are real. But I want to go slow. You deserve that. You deserve a different me this time around. I’ll keep saying it if I have to.” He cocked his head, indicating across the street. “I saw the light go on over there. Your grandmother’s watching. One more kiss to help the cause?”

We chuckled together and kissed again, this time hugging a long time before we parted. His warmth and kindness seeped into me. I hoped that I was giving something back to him in this deal. It felt raw and new to me, as if Dillon wasn’t Dillon and I wasn’t me. Could we really start over? Was it this simple? Was it too easy?

He roared off in the Corvette, probably waking up the entire neighborhood. I saw my grandma let her curtain drop back in place. I smiled.

* * *

On Wednesday morning Grandma Sophie was at the shop by seven. I’d been there since five a.m. making fudge and helping fishermen, and savoring my time with Dillon last night. It was amazing how the taste of a wonderful kiss could linger on and on even better than fudge.

Grandma’s face lit up at my apron. I wore a lilac-checked, lace-trimmed apron over a white blouse and denim shorts. My heavy shoes didn’t match, but safety was more important than looks when I was hefting my copper kettles. For Grandma I chose the frilly pink, satin-trimmed full-bib apron and helped her into it. With her white hair, she looked like a tall helping of cotton candy. Very sweet. Just as I wanted her to appear.

While Grandma was busy with our first fudge customers, I slipped to the back with my phone and called my mother.

“Hey, Mom, how’s Grandpa?”

“Out in the barn helping with the milking. And he plans to stay forever, he says. He’s done with the city life.”

“I see.” Our tiny village of two hundred wasn’t exactly a big city, but Grandpa was in a stubborn state. “Mom, I wanted to tell you something before you heard it off the church lady grapevine. Dillon and I are back together.”

Her scream on the other end of the phone almost broke my eardrum. I held the phone away from me while she jabbered incoherently. I caught a few words, including, “Are you freakin’ crazy?” and “You’re not too old to take over my knee!” And the big kahuna warning was invoked, too: “Wait until your father hears about this!”

I knew getting back together with Dillon would take all my courage. I sent up a tiny prayer that Mom and Dad would forgive me later for this. They certainly didn’t want Gilpa back on the farm trying to take charge, I was sure.

Lucky Harbor showed up outside the shop’s door at around nine, wagging his tail and panting at me through the glass. I wasn’t going to let him in, but Pauline showed up with Bethany and the Butterflies and everybody tumbled inside.

Pauline said, “We’re here to buy fudge to take with us to Sister Bay. We’re going to visit the goats on the roof of Al Johnson’s Swedish Restaurant, then take fudge to a nursing home.”

“Sounds good,” I said. I ached to launch into the news about Dillon and me, but I didn’t want to spoil any surprise for my grandmother. I was expecting Grandpa to be flying through the door within the half hour.

Grandma Sophie was already twirling in place for the little girls, who were giggling and calling her a princess.

A fisherman walked in right then and said, “A princess fer sure! Both of youse
look like princesses.”

The fisherman’s pals came in next, all of them engaging me and Grandma in conversation immediately. Grandma flirted right back! She led them over to Grandpa’s side of the shop, helping them with their purchases. I was getting a little scared now that she didn’t care if Grandpa came back soon!

Pauline raised an eyebrow, looking down at me in silent questioning.

I leaned over with a whisper. “This is perfect.”

“How can you be happy when your grandparents are breaking up?”

“Patience. You’ll see. Now tell me, how’s Laura? I was just about to call her.”

“She’s not feeling well again. Can’t keep food down.”

Verona butted in between us. “I puke when I eat too much cake, but I don’t puke up fudge.”

I said, “That’s a compliment to me, I think. Thanks, Verona.”

“Who’s Laura?”

I knelt down to Verona’s level. “Laura Rousseau. She runs the Luscious Ladle in Sister Bay.”

“Oh. I remember her. We made bread there with Miss Mertens.”

“That’s the place.”

“Miss Rousseau is having two babies, she said.”

“Yeah. That’s why she’s a little sick today. I’m worried about her.”

Verona wiped her dark hair back off her forehead. “She’ll be okay, just like Rapunzel.”

“What about Rapunzel?”

“She didn’t feel good for a long time because she was locked in a tower, but she had hair longer than mine and she let a prince climb up it. Then she was happy, but then an evil person poked her prince’s eyes out.” Verona looked at me with wide eyes.

I said, “That’s awful. And sad.”

“But it’s not sad. The prince wandered around for a while, but then he found Rapunzel had jumped from the lighthouse tower and run away and had two babies, too, just like Laura. Rapunzel was so happy to see the prince that she cried and her tears fell into his eyes and he could see again and they lived happily ever after. Does Laura have a prince?”

Who knew where the army had sent Laura’s husband? “Oh yes. She has a prince.”
He just isn’t here, sadly.

“Then Laura will live happily ever after. Her babies will come out of her belly and they’ll be in pink dresses just like the dolls in your store and eat Cinderella Pink Fudge, just like Rapunzel did,” Verona said, skipping away to rejoin her friends at the tea table in the corner.

I got up from my crouch, mesmerized by Verona, and thinking.

Pauline said, “Just like that. Problems are solved with your fudge. Can I try the new batch you made? I can smell the raspberry flavor from here. My mouth is watering.”

“Fudge for breakfast?”

“Why not?”