Chocolate Covered Murder Part 16

"Yes. Tea. We'll have a cup of tea in the cafeteria and you can pull yourself together and then you can see Eddie." Lucy had to admit her motives were mixed. She wanted to help Lily, who was obviously in trouble, but she also hoped to ask her a few questions about her mother.

Lily was staring at her warily, as if she sensed a trap. "Who are you, anyway?" she demanded.

"I'm Sara's mom. You know, Sara works at the shop with you."

"Right." Lily bit her lip. "Mom's gonna be mad. I better get back to the shop."

Lucy's jaw dropped. Dora was in jail, awaiting arraignment for murder, and had bigger things to worry about. But before she could say a word, Lily disappeared back through the door. Lucy started after her, but by the time she got outside, Lily was in the truck and speeding out of the parking lot.

Shaking her head, Lucy headed for her own car, pulling the list of errands out of her pocket. Post office. Right. She checked her watch and discovered she just had time to make it before it closed at noon. But as she drove along the familiar roads, she struggled to figure out what was going on with Lily. The poor girl was clearly an emotional mess, but who could blame her? Considering everything that had happened to her, it was no wonder she was struggling. Thank goodness she had her grandmother and great-grandmother, Flora and Fern, to take care of her.

Leaving the post office, Lucy noticed the lights were on in the Pennysaver office and decided on impulse to stop in. As she suspected, Ted was there, hunched over his desk.

"Hi," she said. "What are you doing here on a Sat.u.r.day? You should be getting ready for the ball tonight."

Ted laughed. "I won't need much time, but Pam is making a day of it. She's getting the works at the Salt Aire Spa."

"Lucky her." Lucy felt a twinge of jealousy but resolutely ignored it. "Did you hear about Dora?" she asked.

"That's why I'm here. The cops had a press conference this morning. Horowitz was unusually chatty."

"Really?" Lucy had taken off her hat and gloves and was loosening her scarf. "What did he say?"

Ted stopped typing and looked at her, twisting his mouth into a scowl. "I don't know. Maybe I'm hallucinating or something, but I got the feeling something was going on. It's all circ.u.mstantial, there were no witnesses... ."

"You'd hardly expect a witness."

"It's more than that. They didn't have a weapon, no concrete evidence. Just a theory."

"That she was a woman spurned?" Lucy's voice was dramatic.

Ted nodded. "Yeah. She killed Tamzin out of jealousy, and they're reopening the investigation into Max's death, figuring to charge her with that, too."

Lucy sat down, mashing her hat, gloves, and scarf together in her lap. "I expected as much." She sighed. "What about Tamzin? Any family?" She paused. "How old was she, anyway?"

Ted laughed. "You women are all alike-that's what Pam wanted to know, too."

"And?" prompted Lucy.

"Forty-six."

"I knew it!" crowed Lucy. "I knew she was no spring chicken!"

"She was well preserved, you've got to give her that," said Ted. "And there's a husband... ."

"A husband?"

"Well, an ex. Career army, in Afghanistan. They stayed in touch, there were letters and photos in her apartment."

"I had no idea." Lucy suddenly felt ashamed of her uncharitable opinions of Tamzin.

Ted shrugged. "n.o.body did."

When Lucy returned to the church bas.e.m.e.nt later that afternoon for the judging, she found the air was heavy with the scent of sugar and chocolate. The tables Sid had arranged under Sue's instructions were now covered with white cloths and packed with desserts of all kinds, arranged by category. There was a table with nothing but pies and fruit tarts, another with cookies and cupcakes, and several others devoted to all sorts of chocolate treats. Smaller tables with red balloon centerpieces and chairs were scattered around the room, ready for the customers who would buy the treats after the judging, and then consume them along with tea and coffee. Just looking at all the goodies was enough to cause a diabetic coma, but n.o.body was interested in checking them out. Instead, everybody was talking about Dora's arrest. That was fine with Lucy, who was relieved that news of Eddie Culpepper's overdose hadn't reached the grapevine yet.

"She was always a prankster," recalled Franny Small, her face unnaturally smooth and tight thanks to a recent face-lift. Franny owned a wildly successful jewelry company and could afford anything she wanted; her Lexus was parked outside. "I remember she got in trouble when she was in high school-something about an effigy of the princ.i.p.al."

"It wasn't an effigy," offered Luanne Roth, who had recently contacted Lucy about publicizing the twentieth reunion of her cla.s.s at Tinker's Cove High School. "We were in the same cla.s.s, you know, and there was quite a fuss. It was a sign. A bed sheet they hung from the roof that said something bad about Mr. Wilkerson; he was the princ.i.p.al then. I can't remember exactly what it said but it was insulting."

"They let her graduate but they kicked her out of the National Honor Society," said Lydia Volpe. Now retired, Lydia had taught kindergarten to all four of Lucy's kids. "It was quite a scandal at the time. The police prosecuted and she was on probation and had to perform community service and couldn't go to college right away. They postponed her admission until her probation was completed." She paused, her huge brown eyes momentarily unfocused as she dredged her memory. "I don't know if she ever did go, now that I think about it."

"I think she went right to work in the shop," said Luanne.

"She got pregnant," said Franny, with a little sniff.

"That's right," agreed Lydia. "We had quite a little flurry of teen pregnancies around then."

"Well, I know Dora has a unique sense of humor, but getting in trouble for a high school stunt is one thing and murder is another," said Lucy.

"A double murder," offered Dot Kirwan, joining the knot of gossipers. They all looked at her expectantly, knowing she was the police chief's mother and most likely had the latest information. "They're most likely charging her with Max's murder, too."

"Now that I don't believe," said Luanne. "They've been on and off ever since junior high school. I mean, even though they're divorced, I still think of them as a couple. I think everybody who was in school with them does. They were always fighting and making up. The girls would side with Dora and the boys with Max; it was high drama in the cafeteria. A real soap opera, a new installment every day."

"Well, if it was a soap opera, this was the final episode," said Dot. "They've got witnesses who saw Dora on the ice, arguing with Max, the evening before he was killed."

If that was true it was bad news for Dora, thought Lucy, who remembered Barney telling her that Dora said the last time she saw Max was at the house, when he came to help her with her car. Did she lie, or were the witnesses mistaken? Was it Dora, or someone else?

"Max had been seeing a lot of Tamzin," said Luanne, who worked at the Irish pub by the harbor. "They came in for drinks quite a few times."

"A cla.s.sic love triangle with a tragic ending," said Lydia, welling up with tears. "I remember Max and Dora, they were in some of my first cla.s.ses. I had such high hopes for them-especially Dora. She was such a bright little thing."

Lucy gave her a hug. "Well, she's innocent until proven guilty."

"That's right," said Dot, with a smart nod. "If you ask me, I don't think Dora would hurt a fly."

"You know she makes those dirty chocolates," said Franny, pursing her lips with disapproval. "She sells them on the Internet."

"I've seen the chocolates-they're not offensive," said Lucy. "My own daughter works there, packing them, and I certainly wouldn't let her handle anything I didn't approve of."

"Dora's always marched to her own drummer," said Dot, "but that doesn't make her a murderer."

"Is the case against her strong?" asked Lucy. "They must have evidence... ."

"Circ.u.mstantial," said Dot. "And she's a smart girl. Last I heard, she's refusing to talk to investigators-you know most perpetrators are only too happy to incriminate themselves. My Jim says if it wasn't for the fact that the bad guys aren't too smart and love to talk, they'd hardly convict anybody."

"I saw Flora this morning," said Lucy. "She said they're looking for a lawyer."

"Smart," said Dot, with an approving nod. "That's the other thing in Dora's favor. She's got a lot of support from her family."

"That's for sure," agreed Lydia. "Flora was always there for every conference, every school event. And Fern, too. And then when Lily came along, all three of them would show up."

Sue was tapping on a gla.s.s with a spoon, so conversation ceased as everyone focused on the panel of judges gathered beside her. Sue then made the introductions, but Lucy wasn't listening because she recognized them all: Roger Wilc.o.x, chairman of the board of selectmen; Hildy Schultz, who owned a bakery; and Fred Farnsworth, executive chef at the Queen Victoria Inn. They were nodding and smiling and saying nice things about all the entries, but Lucy's mind was miles away, thinking of Dora, sitting in the county jail. As a reporter Lucy had been there numerous times, covering various stories. It was one of her least favorite a.s.signments; she hated the moment the door clanged shut behind her, even though she knew she could leave whenever she wanted. Nevertheless, she always sympathized with the inmates, who couldn't.

Of course, Dora was tough. She was probably better able to withstand the indignities of imprisonment than most. And, as Dot had mentioned, she had plenty of support from her family. If anybody could successfully conceal a saw in a cake and smuggle it in to the jail, it would be Flora, she thought, as a little smile flitted across her lips.

Thinking about that tight family of women, who all lived and worked together, she wondered if perhaps Dora was protecting somebody else. Not Fern, she was too old to manage such elaborate murders. She could probably bash somebody on the head or shoot them, but staging the bodies the way the murderer had was a big job and Lucy doubted she had the strength. Flora, however, was a big woman with a lot of determination. And she'd been handling heavy sacks of sugar and other ingredients her entire life. Flora was also judgmental, and used to getting her way, according to Miss Tilley, and had forced Max to marry Dora when she got pregnant. Perhaps Flora didn't approve of the divorce and would rather see Dora as a widow than a divorcee with an ex who kept hanging around. Lucy was wondering if Flora wasn't a likelier suspect for the murders than her daughter when Dot elbowed her in the ribs.

Lucy was recalling her strange encounter with Lily and wondering if she wasn't an even likelier suspect-after all, Flora had bragged about Lily's skill at hunting and dressing deer-when Lydia poked her in the ribs.

"Lucy! They called your name!"

Lucy blinked. "What?"

"Once again," Sue was saying into the microphone, "our first-prize winner is Lucy Stone for her Maple-Blueberry Cheesecake!"

Stunned, Lucy made her way through the crowd toward the judges. When she was in place behind the table, Sue continued, reading from a card.

"The judges all agreed that this cheesecake showed an imaginative and original use of local ingredients. It was refreshing and light and surprisingly low in calories, the perfect end to a coastal dinner."

"And I might add, absolutely delicious," said Fred Farnsworth, leaning in to the microphone.

Everybody laughed and applauded, except for Sue, who looked rather annoyed as she handed Lucy an envelope. "The grand prize is a dinner for two at Chantarelle. Congratulations and bon appet.i.t, Lucy."

"Thank you," said Lucy, still not quite comprehending her triumph. "This is a real surprise."

"I'll say," muttered Sue, under her breath, as there was another round of applause. She held up her hand for silence. "And now, I encourage everyone to sample the delicious entries-the five dollar per plate cost goes to support the Hat and Mitten Fund, which provides winter clothing for local children. Tea and coffee are also available."

Putting the mike down, Sue thanked the judges while Lucy tucked the envelope into her handbag. Then she asked Sue if she could help with the serving as people started to mob the tables where the desserts were displayed.

"It looks like they could use some help with the pies," said Sue, scanning the crowd, which was thickest around the table displaying that category of entries. Cupcakes were also popular, as were the cookies, but Lucy noticed that few people had gathered at the table with brownies and chocolate cakes.

"Chocolate's gotten some bad press lately," said Lucy.

"Absolutely," declared Sue. "If that poor woman hadn't been coated with chocolate, I'm sure my Better-Than-s.e.x Brownies would have won. The entries were blind, you know, so they could have picked mine. But right now it's hard to think about chocolate without picturing Tamzin's body and it takes your appet.i.te away."

"I'm sure that's it," said Lucy, before heading over to the pie table.

"People are sick of chocolate," added Sue, in a parting shot.

When Lucy picked up Zoe at the Friends of Animals shelter, she discovered the news about Eddie was finally out.

"Mom! Did you hear? Eddie Culpepper overdosed at the Quik-Stop. He's in the hospital."

"I know." Lucy scowled, waiting for Zoe to fasten her seat belt. "How did you hear about it?"

"I got a text from Sara."

Hearing the click, Lucy shifted into drive. "How did she know?"

Zoe gave her a patronizing look. "From Lily, of course. At the shop. She and Eddie have been dating."

Lucy braked at the road. "You know about that?"

"Yeah." Zoe's tone implied that everybody knew this, everybody except her stupid mother.

"Does Lily use drugs?" Lucy kept her tone offhand, as she turned onto Oak Street.

"No way. She's anti-drug, anti-alcohol."

Lucy was beginning to think this was a bit of protective camouflage. Now that she thought about it, it seemed that drugs might explain Lily's odd behavior at the hospital. "How do you know all this stuff?"

Zoe shrugged. "I dunno. I hear stuff. Sara and her friends talk." She paused. "I guess they think I'm deaf or something." She laughed. "I'm the little sister. It's like I don't exist."

Lucy thought she had a point. "What else have you heard?"

Zoe's tone was serious. "Plenty, but you'll have to pay."

In spite of everything that had happened, in spite of Dora's arrest and Eddie's overdose, Lucy found herself chuckling as she turned into the driveway. But her emotions were ragged and she was on the verge of tears when she entered the warm and homey kitchen. Determined to distract herself, she got busy making supper for the girls.

Lucy saved the news of her prize until they were dressing, hoping to present it to Bill as a sweetener before she dragged him off to the Hearts on Fire Ball. She knew he was less than enthusiastic about wearing a tie, much less an entire suit, and he hadn't danced in years. Probably not since their own wedding reception, come to think of it.

"Guess what?" she said, leaning into the mirror and brushing mascara onto the back of her upper lashes, the way she'd read about in a magazine at the dentist's office. It seemed impossibly difficult and required a great deal of concentration, but whoever wrote the beauty column insisted it was important to first coat the lashes, then to use the tiny brush to lift them.

"What?' growled Bill, straining to b.u.t.ton the collar on his starched shirt.

"I won the dessert contest and the prize is dinner for two at Chantarelle."

Bill wasn't impressed. "What's Chantarelle?"

"It's fabulous, everybody raves about it."

"It's not here in town," he said, warily. "Is it in Portland?"

"Actually, it's in Portsmouth."

The collar was flipped up and Bill was looping a tie around his neck. "New Hampshire?" he demanded, his tone verging on outrage.

Lucy sensed her plan was not working. "That's where Portsmouth is, last time I checked," she said.

"No need to get all sarcastic," he said, scowling at his reflection in the full-length mirror behind the bedroom door and undoing the knot.

"Let me do that," said Lucy, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the cap on the mascara and setting it on her dresser.

"That's a heck of a drive for dinner," he said, surrendering the tie to her.

"The food is supposed to be well worth the trip," said Lucy, sliding the knot up to his chin. "There. You look very nice."

She was only wearing her bra and a half-slip and Bill slipped his hands around her waist. "You should go like this," he said, pulling her close.