Sweet Revenge (Cocoa Narel Chocolate Shop Mysteries Book 1) (11 page)

Then the biggest dog noticed Carl’s man-bag. He threw himself at Carl, while the other two continued to jump on me.

“Run!” Carl said. He took at a sprint to his car. I sprinted after him. It was the most exercise I’ve had since… Well, I think it was the most exercise I’d ever had. Carl rolled his window down to say goodbye to a puzzled Wayne, who kept saying in a monotone, “No, no, no. Stop jumping on Carl’s car. Stop it, you naughty dogs.”

Carl drove off. I looked behind me, and the three dogs were running down the road after us.

Chapter 15

I had been painting inside my chocolate shop for an hour and almost finished one wall. I stood back to admire my work. It looked pretty good, if I did say so myself. I’d had a rather restless night wondering whether Borage could in fact be the murderer. Really, it didn’t pay to discount anyone. Tom—I found it hard to think of him as Borage now I knew his true identity—had been bullied just as badly as the rest of us. Why else would he change his name unless to avoid suspicion as a murderer? Yet the police would know who he really was, so surely he had not changed his name for that reason. Perhaps it was just as Wayne had said after all, that Tom wanted a bit of privacy. I was still surprised that he hadn’t let on who he was to me earlier, or to Carl for that matter.

Truth be told, I had developed a crush on Tom, and that was somewhat ironic given the fact that I’d had a major crush on him back in high school. He had always been kind to me. He hadn’t been a close friend like Carl, because he had kept to himself. Perhaps that was just his personality, and that could explain why he had changed his name.

I sighed and turned my attention back to the task at hand. I had watched a lot of home renovation shows during my months in the hospital. I realized after watching countless episodes that I needed to appeal to the majority of people and not simply to my taste. I hoped that I had not made a mistake by choosing the chocolate colored paint. Still, it was a chocolate store. I hoped that no one would look at the paint color and shudder.

I heard someone clear their throat and swung around. My heart sank. It was Lucinda. Of all the people I didn’t want to see!

“Whatever possessed you to choose such a color, Narel?” she asked haughtily.

I was in no mood for her nonsense. “What do you want, Lucinda?” I snapped.

“I think perhaps a nice pastel blue or pink would have been better there, Narel, but we all know how much you love your chocolate.” She laughed cruelly.

Her barbs no longer had the power to upset me. “If I want decorating advice, then I’ll pay an
expert
for it,” I said. I turned my back on her and picked up the brush. Without looking at her, I said loudly, “I’m not open for customers, as I’ve already told you.”

I heard her footsteps approach me so I turned around again. “I wanted to buy some chocolates to send to Mandy’s family.” Her tone was imperious.

What did she want me to do about it? She could see there were no chocolates in sight and that the store was only in the early stages. She continued to glare at me. “Lucinda, should you be out in public?”

She looked surprised. “Whatever do you mean, Cocoa?”

For the first time, I didn’t mind being called Cocoa. After all, I was naming the shop
Cocoa Narel’s Designer Chocolates
. “I mean, aren’t you worried that you’re the last Popular left?”

“That’s a really spiteful name, The Populars,” Lucinda said. “How mean-spirited.”

Was she serious? “Whatever. Anyway, you’re the last Popular left, so aren’t you worried that you’re next on the murderer’s hit list? He’s got all the others, so he must be coming for you now.” I didn’t feel the slightest bit mean saying that. After all, I was sure it was the truth, and I really didn’t care less at that point if it hurt her feelings or not.

Before Lucinda could reply, Tom, I mean Borage, walked into the store. Lucinda at once looked him up and down. I wondered whether she knew his true identity.

“That wall looks amazing,” Borage said. “You’ve made quite a lot of progress in here.”

“Well, hello!” Lucinda said in a simpering voice. She sashayed over to him, and seized his hand which she shook strongly. “I’m Lucinda Shaw-Smythe,” she said and then giggled.

I rolled my eyes. She was acting like a schoolgirl all over again. I shot a look at Borage to gauge his reaction to her, um, charms. I was delighted to see that he looked alarmed.

“Hello,” he said, as he managed to extract his hand.

Lucinda patted his arm playfully. “I’ve seen you around town. You’re the new realtor, aren’t you!” She continued to pat him on the arm. She looked like the cat that had got the cream. I did my best to resist the urge to slap her hand away.

“Err, yes,” Tom said, and he took a step backward.

I remembered what she had done to him in high school. I’m sure there were more things, but I was still having partial memory problems.

Lucinda finally removed her hand. “I saw you with Hamilton Howes the other night. Was he buying a property from you, or was it a personal matter?”

Borage’s eyes narrowed. “Hamilton’s firm invests in commercial property, as you probably know. He was inquiring about a local investment that was for sale.”

“Are you married?” Lucinda actually batted her eyes at him.

Borage took another step backward. “No.” He looked alarmed.

“What a coincidence! Neither am I.” Lucinda burst into raucous laughter.

She’s completely lost her marbles
, I thought.
She’s acting completely nuts
.

“I’m just here to speak with Narel,” Borage said.

“Don’t mind me,” Lucinda said. “Cocoa Narel and I are old friends, aren’t we?”

She took me by my arm and held it in a vice-like grip.

“Actually, I wanted to have a word with Narel in private.”

“Go ahead!” Lucinda said.

I sighed. Clearly she was so busy being mean at school that she hadn’t learned the meaning of
private
.

Borage shrugged. He looked at a loss. I wondered what he wanted to speak with me about. If only that pesky Lucinda would leave.

“I was just telling Lucinda that I’m surprised she’s out in public,” I said to Borage. “What with all the murders and everything. Her closest friends have all been murdered, so if I were her, I would lock myself in my house.” I was hoping she would take the hint.

No such luck. “Who would want to hurt me?” Lucinda said. “I’m such a lovely person.”

I nearly choked. “Are you saying the murder victims weren’t lovely people?” I asked her.

For some reason, that seemed to hit a nerve. Her expression changed. She appeared to be at a loss for words.

Just then, Carl bounced into the shop. “Love the color, Narel!” he said cheerfully “Oh, Lucinda. Hi there, Tom.”

Lucinda looked puzzled. “Tom? Don’t you mean Borage? There’s no Tom here.” She looked around the room as if expecting to see another person suddenly manifest.

Carl’s face turned beet red. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Tom. Sorry again, I mean Borage. Oops. My bad.” He clutched his cheeks.

The three of us all turned to stare at Lucinda. I wondered how she would take the news, but it did seem to take an awfully long time to dawn on her.

“Tom?” She looked Borage up and down once more. “Wait, you’re not Tom Fletcher?” When no one answered her, she continued to stare at Borage. “Tom Fletcher?” she said again. Her cheeks puffed out like a giant cane toad’s. “You, you! The three of you are playing a joke on me! You’re all mean!” With that, she hurried out of the store.

Carl turned to Borage. “I’m so sorry to let the cat out of the bag.”

Borage smiled. “No matter. At least it made her leave.”

Carl and I laughed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you both before,” Borage said. While he addressed both of us, he was looking directly at me. “How did you find out? Or did you just finally recognize me?”

“Wayne Sidebottom told us yesterday,” Carl said. “We had lunch with him at his winery.”

“I hope you’re not upset that I deceived you,” Borage said.

“No,” I said, “but if you don’t mind me asking, why did you keep your identity from us?”

Borage looked uncomfortable. “I guess I was embarrassed. I just wanted to have some anonymity. I didn’t mind the townspeople knowing who I was eventually, but since I’ve just moved back to town, I just wanted some quiet time before they all realized I was the little Tom Fletcher who’d been bullied so badly at school. Borage is my middle name.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Carl said generously. “Do the police know you’re really Tom Fletcher?”

I, too, wanted to hear the answer to that.

“Yes, of course,” Borage said. “They’ve already questioned me several times, especially as I don’t have an alibi for Mandy Makim’s murder.”

“You don’t?” I said with alarm. Carl and I exchanged glances. Yet surely if Borage wanted to murder Mandy, he would have gone to the reunion. That would’ve been the logical thing to do. If he had gone there to murder Mandy, then the logical thing to do would have been to attend the reunion. Otherwise, if he had been seen, the finger would have been pointed firmly at him. No, it seemed logical to me that Borage could not be the murderer. Of course, I’m sure I wasn’t thinking that only because butterflies danced around my stomach every time I saw him.

“Well, that was awkward,” Carl said when Borage had left the shop.

“He didn’t seem to mind us knowing that he was Tom Fletcher,” I said.

“I suppose. Anyway, what did Lucinda want?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea. I think she just wanted to be mean, as usual. I don’t know what Borage wanted, either. Anyway, Lucinda brought up something very disturbing about Borage.”

“Out with it! Don’t keep me in suspense.”

I took a deep breath. I knew that Carl was already suspicious of Borage. “Lucinda said she saw Borage out with Hamilton Howes the other night, and then I remembered that Borage took a call only hours before Hamilton was murdered. He said he’d meet Hamilton at seven.”

Carl was silent for a while. “That doesn’t necessarily implicate Borage,” he said. “If Lucinda saw Borage with Hamilton, then it must’ve been in a public place. The detectives would already know about it.”

That made sense to me. I nodded.

“Anyway, hurry up and clean up. Get that paint off your face. I’ve set up a meeting with another suspect.”

I groaned. While I could do with a break, I wasn’t really in the mood to grill a suspect. “What exactly do you mean, Carl?”

“I’ve set up lunch with Frederick Flowers. I’ve invited him to the Steakhouse.”

“What, the Steakhouse? The one in the old warehouse?”

“Yes,” Carl said smugly.

“That’s awfully posh and expensive.”

“My treat,” Carl said. “Frederick has gone to the top of my suspects list. I’ve rearranged all the whiteboards.”

Chapter 16

I was sitting at the Steakhouse next to Carl, waiting for Carl’s new Number One Suspect, Frederick Flowers, to arrive. Carl had already ordered a nice wine.

“So what do we do if we think that Frederick’s the murderer?” I asked Carl.

“We go to the police with the evidence, of course.”

I shrugged. “Okay.” I didn’t really think we would discover any evidence, but it was fun to go out.

The whole atmosphere of the restaurant screamed opulence. The crisp white tablecloths contrasted sharply with the plush, buttoned, crimson velvet chairs. The lighting was dimmed just enough to give the suggestion of intimacy while allowing people to be able to see their food. The decorators had not hidden the fact that this was an old warehouse, but had managed to give the feeling of luxury by placing numerous candles in glass jars along the walls. The lighting was unusual, and reflected in the many mirrors lining the walls.

“Hello,” came a booming voice from behind us.

I swung around to see Frederick Flowers. He was dressed in a very tight suit, and I wondered if his suit would split if he ate spinach. He reminded me of Popeye.

“Thanks for inviting me, Carl.” He slapped Carl so hard on the back that Carl fell forward and his face missed the table by inches.

“Well, it’s good to be able to catch up with you before you go back to Sydney,” Carl said when he had recovered. “This is the first reunion our class has ever had.”

Frederick nodded and took his seat. He picked up a menu, and made strange sounds of appreciation as he looked through it. At that point, a waiter appeared to take our orders. “I’ll have the oyster platter and the rare porterhouse steak, and the garlic prawns as well. Oh yes, I’ll also have the pork ribs and the chunky crispy fries.”

I hoped that Carl had brought his Gold American Express. This was going to be an expensive meal. Carl ordered a grilled chicken salad.

“Are these mains for both of you?” the waiter asked. “No entrées?”

Carl shook his head. “Mains,” he said.

The waiter turned to me. “I’m having a dessert as a main and then a dessert as the dessert,” I said.

The waiter looked highly confused, but did not comment. “Yes, madam,” he said. He seemed a little annoyed.

“I’ll have the warm flourless chocolate cake with hot Mars bar sauce and chocolate ice cream as the main,” I said.

The waiter raised his eyebrows and then left.

Frederick laughed. “You haven’t changed at all, Narel,” he said. “Your appearance has changed, that’s for sure.” He laughed so loudly that the other patrons in the restaurant turned to look at him. He slapped the table hard and a collective gasp went up from the room.

Carl once turned the subject to the murders. “That was quite a dramatic class reunion.”

Frederick stopped laughing. His face turned bright red. “Those Populars! What that horrible Mandy Makim did to me at school, and to you guys as well! It’s a wonder no one has murdered her before now.” He cracked his knuckles as he spoke.

I was a little afraid of him. “No one would victimize you now, Frederick,” Carl said. “You’ve certainly bulked up since school days.”

“It’s all the steroids,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Aren’t steroids illegal?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said. He drank his wine in one gulp. “So are peptides, but only if you’re playing football.”

I nodded. I was too afraid to ask him if he played football. We made some small talk for a while, and then a waiter appeared with steaming plates of food. We all straightened up and arranged our cutlery, but the waiter walked straight past us.

“They’re taking a while,” Frederick said in a booming voice.

“It’s quite crowded tonight,” Carl pointed out.

Frederick emitted a guttural grunt by way of response. He commenced drumming his feet on the floor, and the table shook. Thankfully, our food arrived, but my relief was short-lived. “Where are the garlic prawns?” Frederick snapped loudly.

The waiter took a step backward. “This is your entrée.”

Frederick stood up abruptly, bumping the table in the process. “I told that waiter I wanted it all as a main. Do you understand? Main!”

The waiter nodded and hurried away to fetch the rest of the meal.

“I wonder who the murderer is?” Carl said, in an obvious attempt to distract Frederick.

“I don’t know, but if I find out, I’ll shake their hand,” Frederick said.

I was shocked. “Surely you don’t mean that.”

Frederick stretched out his beefy arms and cracked his knuckles again. “I sure do, Narel. I’ve often thought about ways I’d like to kill them all. Long nights I’ve lain awake in my bed thinking just how I’d murder each one of those Populars. You remember what they did to me, don’t you? What about how they took that photo of me sitting on the toilet seat and put it all over MySpace? I wanted to kill them then, but I wasn’t strong back in those days. I
am
strong now.” His tone was menacing.

I shook a little.

Frederick kept talking. “Of course, I haven’t killed anyone before. Really.” He stopped chewing and looked at us. We both nodded. “I was accused of beating someone up, but I got off the charges.”

“Oh, so you didn’t do it?” I asked him.

“Yes, I did do it. I just had a good lawyer.” He frowned. “That man really annoyed me! He got what was coming to him. That was back in Sydney, anyway. And don’t you remember what that awful Lucinda did to you, Narel? And you too, Carl?”

“She did lots of horrible things to me,” I said.

Frederick nodded. “One of worst things she did to me was the time she invited me to a fancy dress party, only it turned out to be a formal party. I came dressed as Batgirl. It was her suggestion, of course.” He scowled.

“Of course,” I said.

Frederick cracked his knuckles once more and bent his fork with his bare hand. “And she always made fun of my name. She always called me Petal. She’ll be next!”

I looked at Carl, but he was staring at Frederick with his mouth open. “Do you mean Lucinda will be next to be murdered?”

Frederick nodded. “Yes!” he said through a mouthful of steak and fries.