Sweet Revenge (Cocoa Narel Chocolate Shop Mysteries Book 1) (14 page)

We decided to take a taxi. It was a reasonable distance to walk, but after a bit to drink and carrying a whiteboard each, we decided something a bit quicker and easier would be best. After a short wait and a shorter drive in a taxi, we arrived.

Once we arrived, the receptionist directed us to sit and wait. The waiting room was busy, with almost every seat filled. I was already feeling nervous about presenting what we knew to the detectives, and being surrounded by strangers like this didn’t help. After about fifteen minutes, Detectives Rieker and Clyde rounded the corner and greeted us.

“You were told to stay put, Miss Myers,” Rieker said bluntly, flaunting his typical lack of tact. “You have something for us?”

“I hope so,” I said sincerely. “Can we show you somewhere a little more private?” I asked, looking at the people sitting around us.

“Fine. Follow me,” Rieker had begun to walk away before he’d even finished speaking, with Clyde, Carl, and myself in tow.

He led us into an interrogation room. I was the last to enter, and Rieker closed the door behind me. I swallowed hard and laid my whiteboard on the table in the center of the otherwise bare room. Carl put his whiteboard next to mine.

“These are all people who have been harassed by the victims in the past,” I explained, pointing to the list of names. “All of them—well, except Susie—were in town when the murders happened, too.” I looked up to see Clyde and Rieker wearing completely blank expressions.

“Go on,” Rieker said flatly.

“Um, err, that’s about it,” I stammered.

“You think that when notorious bullies are murdered, we don’t look at their victims?” Rieker asked, his voice rising. “We’re detectives, for goodness sake. We’ve looked at all of these people and have no reason to suspect...”

“The details of the case are confidential,” Clyde interrupted. “You understand. We appreciate that you’re trying to help, but none of this information is new to us. If you come across any new information, then please let us know immediately, but don’t go looking for leads yourselves. That’s what
we’re
here for.” Clyde said it with a warm smile, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Clyde and Rieker had now decided to go for some kind of ‘good cop/bad cop’ routine. Rieker had his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face, which told me I was better off not pursuing the topic further.

“You could swing by my house, Detective Clyde,” Carl said with a smile. “I probably have some material from school around somewhere, if you wanted to look at them over dinner or a drink.”

Clyde managed to maintain his smile, though he shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

The detectives ushered us out of the station and Rieker warned me not to leave Carl’s house under any circumstances. It felt like we were back to square one, but the truth was that I felt even worse than when we’d started. It didn’t seem like there much hope of us figuring out who did it.

Chapter 20

The following morning, I was alone in Carl’s house. I had a strangely uneasy feeling, but I supposed it was just because I was alone and the detectives obviously thought I was in some kind of danger. I’d had the vibe that they knew who the murderer was, and were just collecting evidence to charge whoever it was.

Therefore, putting two and two together, I had been the intended victim of the arrow. Well, perhaps Borage had been too, but the point was that whether Borage was included in the attempt or not, the cops obviously thought that I, at least, was one of the intended victims. That put a whole new light on the case, and now I had an urge to solve the mystery.

Carl had gone for supplies. His house was bereft of essentials: no chocolates, no chocolate cake. Even his liquor supplies were low. And of course, Carl liked to eat things that other normal people liked to eat, non-chocolate type of things. I couldn’t relate, but each to their own.

I did yet another lap of Carl’s house, checking that the windows were firmly shut, and that the back and front doors were both locked. Louis the Fourteenth was once more asleep on Carl’s bed, so I shut Carl’s bedroom door. Having satisfied myself that everything was secure, I gingerly opened Mongrel’s basket door and walked once more to stand in front of the whiteboards.

I removed the Suspects whiteboard from the chair and put it behind one of Carl’s white sofas. I no longer thought that any of the suspects could have done the murders. These people were all victims, like I had been, and so would have no reason to murder me. No, there must be an entirely other reason, one that Carl and I had not considered.

Still, common sense dictated that the murderer was someone from our school group. One hundred percent of the victims and intended victims had been from our high school class. That meant that I had to look at everyone with fresh eyes.

I fetched three new whiteboards and set them on chairs, for once grateful for Carl’s obsession with whiteboards. I picked up a marker, and then my mind went just as blank as the empty whiteboard in front of me. I couldn’t think of a single suspect now. Okay, what did I know? I tried to think of facts. I wrote down the names of the victims: Mandy, Guy, Ridgewell, Hamilton.

I decided to research each one of the victims, because surely there was a link there somehow. I went to Carl’s laptop, which was of course white, and googled Mandy Makim. There were a lot of news articles about her being married to Guy Smith and both of them being murdered. She was only married to him for a short time, however. It listed her other five husbands. To my surprise, it said she had been married to Lucinda’s ex-husband, Henry Shaw, and divorced him five weeks later. I walked back to the whiteboard and wrote the names of Mandy, Guy, and Lucinda’s husband, Henry. Then I wrote Lucinda’s name, and I connected the names with arrows.

My head was already spinning and I couldn’t make any sense of it yet, but I had already decided that I would just write as many facts as I could on the whiteboards, and when Carl came back, we could brainstorm for answers.

I drew a blank with both Ridgewell and Hamilton. The news articles just went on at length about how successful they were. They had won all sorts of awards and they generally seemed very popular. I didn’t write anything next to their names on the whiteboard, because I didn’t find out anything useful about either of them.

I decided to google Lucinda, because she was the first intended victim. Well, that was a surprise! She had boasted at the reunion that she was a successful dentist, but she had been struck off for dealing in prescription drugs. She had even done jail time for it. My jaw fell open with shock. That was something I hadn’t heard before, and Carl hadn’t told me. Perhaps we hadn’t heard about it because it had happened interstate and some years ago.

I looked out the window, but there was still no sign of Carl. After a brief check of his kitchen to make sure he didn’t have a secret chocolate stash, I walked once more to the whiteboards. Surely I was missing something. I decided to google the victims once more. I started with Guy Smith because he was the first victim. Apparently, after graduating from medical school, he returned to town and had been a successful doctor ever since.

I looked at new articles about him, but the first few pages were all about his untimely demise. On page five, I found an old article. It was only a paragraph long, but it actually mentioned Lucinda. It said he had given evidence against her for dealing prescription drugs.

There was a motive right there! Lucinda would have reason to resent Guy Smith, but it was years ago. What’s more, it didn’t explain the other killings. Sure, perhaps Lucinda was upset that Mandy had married her ex-husband, so that could be a motive for murder, but what about Ridgewell and Hamilton?

I started tapping away at Carl’s laptop once more. This time, I started with Ridgewell who had been shot with an arrow. Then it dawned on me—while I had been the school archery champion, Lucinda had always been second to me. She was looking more and more like the murderer, but I still had nothing to tie her to either Ridgewell or Hamilton.

Nevertheless, I wrote Lucinda’s name at the top of a fresh whiteboard. I wrote the names of both Guy and Mandy under her name and then wrote the possible motive next to their names. Under that, I wrote the names of Ridgewell and Hamilton with a question mark next to each of them.

I looked out the window for Carl. Again, there was no sign of him, so I sighed and went back to his laptop. I typed in Ridgewell Dugan’s name once more, and resigned myself to wade through dozens of pages.

I finally found what I was looking for on page fifteen, although at first I didn’t think the news article held any significance. Ridgewell Dugan was awarded an honorary doctorate at the nearest university for humanitarian works. In the small newspaper article, Lucinda was interviewed. In fact, most of the article was about her complaining that she wasn’t the recipient of the honorary doctorate. She said she did plenty of humanitarian work. The example she gave was that she allowed her poorer patients time payments with “only” thirty percent interest.

Was she for real? She was so ridiculous that she was almost comical. But was that a motive? Jealousy that Ridgewell Dugan was successful and she wasn’t? He was a lawyer, so I wondered whether he had any connection with her prescription drug dealing conviction.

It took me another half hour to find it. He had in fact represented her in the case, and had lost. I walked over and wrote a note next to his name on the whiteboard.

Now there was only Hamilton Howes, who had been hit by the train. What possible motive could the murderer have had in his instance? I googled and googled, but couldn’t find a thing. Then I remembered what Lucinda had said to me at the reunion. She had said that Hamilton was wearing a diaper-brown color when he died.

Lucinda told me that she’d recently had eyelid lifting surgery, so would she even able to watch TV? I doubted it. Of course, someone could have told her that Hamilton was wearing brown jeans in the news report, but who else but Carl would even notice such a thing? And then there was the fact that she had seen Hamilton with Borage that night. In the photo that Borage had shown me on his phone, Hamilton was wearing a black suit. Borage was with Hamilton for over an hour, so if Lucinda saw Hamilton after that, why had he changed into comfortable clothes?

That was when I realized why the murderer had shot two arrows into Ridgewell’s back, and why the murderer’s arrow missed me.

Chapter 21

I looked around Carl’s living room for the wool that he used for connecting the magnets. Why was his place so pristine? There wasn’t even any cat hair, and that was a miracle, given Louis the Fourteenth’s long coat. My place was a mess, but I was always able to find something quickly. Perhaps Carl shoved everything out of sight, and that’s why he was able to keep his place so clean. My mess was always on display.

I finally found some black wool. I was amused for a moment, but I supposed that white wool would not show up on the whiteboards. I grabbed the wool and the scissors with it, and headed to the whiteboard. The afternoon sun was streaming through the window and I positioned the whiteboard in front of it. I cut some pieces of wool, and attached them under the magnets. Then I stood back to admire my handiwork.

I was sure I had solved the murders, but for one thing, or rather, two things, I still didn’t have a motive for the murder of Hamilton Howes, or my own attempted murder.

Next to the name of Guy Smith, I wrote, ‘Gave evidence against Lucinda for drug dealing.’ Against Ridgewell Dugan’s name, I wrote, ‘Represented Lucinda in the trial, lost the case.” Under that I wrote, ‘Received an honorary doctorate instead of Lucinda.’

Against Mandy’s name I wrote, ‘Married Lucinda’s ex-husband, and was probably cheating on him while he was married to her. She was probably jealous of him.’ Then I wrote, ‘Hamilton Howes.’ I wrote three big question marks next to him.

“Lucinda is the murderer!” I said to Mongrel, or rather, to his cat basket as he hadn’t so much as stuck his nose out yet. “If she hadn’t opened her big mouth and said Hamilton was wearing brown when he was murdered, I never would’ve put two and two together. I’m going to call those detectives and tell them right now. The only thing is, I can’t understand the motive for murdering Hamilton.”

At that moment, a shiver ran up my spine. I had the uncanny feeling that I was being watched. I spun around, but there was no one there, only an empty yard. I shuddered and drew the curtains. Now where was my phone? I remember—I had left it in the kitchen while looking for a stash of chocolates. I reached for the phone, when a voice came from behind me.

“Don’t touch that phone.”

I swung around, and there, to my horror, was Lucinda. “How did you get in?” I asked her. I was sure I had locked everything and double, even triple, checked it.

“When you do time, you pick up some nice little tricks,” she said smugly, as if it were something to boast about. “I had lessons in picking locks, lessons from the best in the business.” She giggled.

I summed up the situation. It didn’t look good. She was clutching a large shoulder bag to her, and while it wasn’t big enough for a bow, it was more than big enough for a gun. Although surely she didn’t have a gun, as none of the victims had been shot. “Carl will be back any minute,” I said.

Lucinda shrugged and looked unconcerned. “I’ll hear his car coming on the gravel. I’ll have more than enough time to do away with you and get out that window.” She pointed to the big window directly behind me, and then turned her attention to the whiteboard. She made a strangling sound that was halfway between a laugh and a choke. “I can fill in the blanks for you. You think you’re so smart, but you didn’t see why I had to kill Hamilton.”

“No, I had no clue at all. Why did you kill any of them?” I wanted to humor her, but I didn’t know whether or not it was a good idea to keep her talking, given that she intended to kill me the second that she heard Carl’s car.

“Don’t you want to know why I killed them all in different ways?”

“Sure,” I said. I wondered if I should jump her now, before she had time to get whatever weapon she had from inside her bag, but she was too far from me. By the time I got half way to her, she would have that weapon out of her bag.

“It was to throw the police off the track,” she said. “I thought different methods would confuse them.” She cackled.

Then something occurred to me. “Why did you try to kill me, Lucinda?”

“Obviously, I’m going to kill you now because you’ve figured out that I’m the murderer, and you were about to call the police and tell them. They haven’t figured it out for themselves yet,” she said with a sneer. “But if you must know, I tried to shoot you because that hot guy is interested in you and not in me—although why, I can’t imagine.”

“Tom, I mean Borage, Fletcher?” I asked her. “I didn’t think he was your type. You used to bully him at school.”

She shrugged. “He wasn’t hot then, but he sure is now! And why would he be attracted to you? You used to be hideous.”

“But I’m not now.” I instantly regretted the words, as a look of rage covered her entire face.

She reached for her bag, so I thought of something to say to forestall her. “I think you killed Mandy because she married your husband, and am I right in assuming she was having an affair with him while you were still married?”

Lucinda’s face grew redder, but her hand dropped away from her bag, much to my relief. “Yes, that little… She was having an affair with him, behind my back. She married him and she didn’t stay married for long at all. She only did it to get him away from me. She always
was
competitive with me. I’ve always hated her. I was just waiting for my opportunity.”

“And Guy Smith,” I asked her. “He was a doctor, and he gave evidence against you at your trial.”

“Right again,” she said. “Full marks. And when I looked through the window, I saw what you’d written on your whiteboard. I paid Ridgewell a lot of money to represent me in that trial and he lost. He didn’t put any effort into it at all; I was just another job to him. His heart wasn’t in it. He overcharged me, but now he’s paid the price.” She giggled at what she thought was her joke.

I still hadn’t come up with a plan, so I thought if I could keep her talking and edge closer to her, then I would be able to put up I struggle at least. “So why did you kill Hamilton Howes?” I inched forward ever so slightly.

Lucinda clenched and then unclenched her fists. “I didn’t want to kill Hamilton. I was actually having a one night stand with him.” She laughed. “Or a five night stand, if you want the truth. He figured out I killed Guy and Ridgewell, because he caught me putting the bow and arrows back in their hiding place.”

I edged forward a little. “Where did you hide the bow and arrow?”

“Simple.” She smirked at me. “There’s a trapdoor in the ceiling of the bathroom in the motel where I’m staying. I simply put it up there. Hamilton came into the bathroom and saw me with it, and then he knew that I killed Ridgewell and Guy.”

“But how did you overpower him and get him to the train line?” I asked her. Despite my situation, I was intrigued.

“He was already quite drunk at the time. That man never could hold his alcohol. I just shot him up with some insulin.”

“How did you get time to fetch the insulin?” I could picture it all now. Hamilton, drunk, staggering into the bathroom and catching Lucinda, who I assume was standing on the toilet seat or a chair, about to put the bow and arrows through the trapdoor.

She smirked again. “It was in my little bag of tricks. When he caught me with the bow and arrow, I was only inches from where I’d hidden a syringe of insulin in the ceiling. It was a simple matter just to jab him, given he was so drunk. The only trouble I had was dragging him to my car, but luckily for me he was such a skinny guy, and I work out. He was already gone when I put him on the train line. He never knew what hit him. It was sad, given that he gave me such expensive jewelry.” She patted her neck. She was a wearing a huge twisted rope necklace with an enormous jewel at the end. The jewel looked fake to me. He had probably bought it at the dollar shop, but that fact seemed lost on Lucinda.

I then figured she probably had a syringe filled with insulin in her bag. That wasn’t good, but it was better than a gun. If she tried to inject me with insulin, at least I’d have a fighting chance in a struggle with her. However, she worked out and I was still recovering from a series of major surgeries. “Why did you wait so long to kill Guy, Ridgewell, and Mandy?” I asked her.

“Simple. It was the first time they’d all been together in years, and there would be lots of suspects. Now, you tell me; how did you realize it was me?”

I took another tiny step. “You said you saw Hamilton and Borage out together. Borage had taken a photo, and in it, Hamilton was wearing a black suit. You said something rude about my dress, that it was the same brown color as what Hamilton was wearing when he was killed.”

“I don’t follow,” she said.

I sighed. “The last time Hamilton was seen in public, he was wearing a black suit. You said he was wearing brown when he died. How did you know? I know it was on the news, briefly, but you’d recently had eye surgery. It was that fact that led me to figuring it out. Ridgewell had two arrows in him, and the arrow missed me. If the murderer was a bad shot, why would he or she choose an arrow? The fact that you’d recently had eye surgery was what did it for me.”

Lucinda’s face contorted with rage. She reached into her bag. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?”

“Not really.” My voice came out as a squeak.

Lucinda lunged at me then, at the same time pulling a syringe from her bag. I tried to duck out of the way, but tripped backward over Mongrel’s cat basket, tipping it on its side. As Lucinda threw herself on top of me, her neck hovered over the door to the basket.

What happened next is something I have tried to forget many a time, but have never succeeded. I can only assume that Mongrel saw the rope jewelry necklace around Lucinda’s neck. I saw a flash of ginger fur as he launched himself at her face.

Lucinda fell down, screaming, with the enraged cat on her face. She managed to fling him off immediately, but he turned in mid-air and flung himself back at her face, just as she was struggling back to her feet. She went back down. Horrible sounds emanated from her face, and I didn’t know if they were hers or Mongrel’s. It didn’t take me long to realize they were the sounds that came from his basket when he was eating his food.

I ran for my phone, my hands clasped over my ears. I called the police and just as I did, Carl came through the door. Carl screamed at the sight of Mongrel attacking Lucinda. The syringe had already rolled out of her hand, and I retrieved it. “The police are on their way,” I told him, my hands firmly back over my ears.

Carl pointed at Lucinda, his eyes open wide in horror. “Shouldn’t we get the cat off her, Narel?”

“You do it,” I said. Carl shook his head in terror.

Lucinda was still screaming for help, although why she thought I would help her when she had just tried to murder me was beyond me. In the end, Carl and I clung to each other and averted our eyes from the scene until the detectives got there.