Fatal Chocolate Obsession (Death by Chocolate Book 5) (11 page)

Henry leapt onto my porch like a graceful, unhurried ballerina.

I held the screen door open. “Inside. Now.”

He strolled casually, obviously not feeling my sense of urgency. That was a good thing, probably meant the car held no danger.

Even so, I wanted to get in the house and lock the door.

“Hurry.” I almost stepped on Henry’s tail in my eagerness to get inside.

A car door slammed. My heart stuttered then went into overdrive.

I reached down to give Henry’s fuzzy rear a push so I could get far enough in to close the door.

“Lindsay!”

For an instant I couldn’t breathe. For an instant I wondered if Henry had gone senile and would no longer warn me about threats.

But I knew that voice. I spun around. Trent strode up the sidewalk, resplendent in faded blue jeans, sports coat and a big smile.

I stepped back outside. “Hi.” I tried to sound calm, as if I hadn’t just been planning to barricade myself in the house. “You gave me a start. Where’d you get that ugly car?”

“It’s the department’s. I was working late tonight and needed to be inconspicuous.”

As if his regular car, a newer model black sedan, was conspicuous.

He stepped onto the porch and handed me a gold box. Godiva chocolates. “I thought you might need some chocolate you didn’t have to make.”

I accepted the box, threw my arms around him and held on tight. I didn’t want to seem needy, so I pulled back much sooner than I wanted to.

“Can we continue this inside?” I asked. “The neighbors get so uptight when we have sex on the front porch.”

He grinned. “How about the back porch?”

“That’ll work.”

I led him inside, closed and locked the door behind us. Even with a cop on the premises, I didn’t want to take any chances.

“Coke? Wine? Beer? Coffee?”

Trent sank onto the sofa and made a face. “You make the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted, and I’m driving so alcohol is out. How about a glass of water and a cookie?”

“I have some moldy chocolate chip cookies.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Private joke between Zach and me. I have cookies and water.”

I set the Godiva box on the coffee table and went to the kitchen where I found Henry begging for catnip. He’s addicted, but who am I to talk? I can’t imagine going through a day without chocolate and Cokes. “Tonight you need to be alert and protect me.” However, thinking about my chocolate and Coke addictions, I gave him a tiny amount. Wouldn’t want him to go into withdrawal.

I got a bottle of water for Trent, a Coke for me and a plate of cookies then went back to the living room.

“How are you doing?” Trent asked softly as I handed him the water and a cookie.

I hadn’t told him anything about my personal Santa Claus, so he must be talking about Rick. Good grief.

I sat beside him, opened the gold box and selected the Dark Ganache Heart. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?” I slid the candy into my mouth and savored the dark, smooth chocolate. A fresh box of Godiva chocolates and Trent beside me. Life was good.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Why? Well, let’s see. Last night your ex-husband was almost killed. Your friend was murdered in the alley behind your restaurant. Your ex-husband’s ex-girlfriend was murdered in front of his house and you’re a person of interest. Most people would find that upsetting.”

“I am upset about Bob and a little bit about Ginger. Have you figured out who killed either of them yet?”

I selected another candy and offered the box to Trent but he smiled and took another cookie. “I like the chocolates my girlfriend makes better than the store bought stuff.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Now answer my question. Who killed Bob and Ginger?”

He munched on his cookie.

I popped open my Coke with a loud snap. “Oh, for crying out loud! Do not give me that business about not being able to talk about an ongoing investigation. I just want to know what I’d hear on the ten o’clock news if I watched the ten o’clock news, which I don’t. But I can always Google it if you keep holding out on me.”

“That’s not what I was going to say, but it does apply.” He leaned back on the sofa and focused on the label on his bottle of water, avoiding my eyes. “The investigation of Bob’s death has reached a dead end.”

“Did you talk to Kenneth Wilson?”

He lifted his gaze to mine and frowned. “Yeah, I did. We just uncovered that connection today. How did you know—oh, Fred.”

“He looks guilty to me. Kenneth, not Fred.”

“Kenneth Wilson has an alibi. His wife swears he was with her all night.”

I snorted. “She’s so scared of him, she’d say he was with her the day she was born if he told her to.”

Trent nodded. “I know. But we have no evidence that points to him. I’m sorry, but unless a new lead turns up, we don’t have anything to investigate. The case has gone cold.”

“If he’d been a rich executive, you wouldn’t stop looking for his killer.”

“If we ran out of leads, we would.”

I thumped my can of Coke down on the coffee table. “Fred and I aren’t going to stop.”

Trent’s lips tightened. “I really wish you’d back off and let us handle things.”

“I would if you were handling things, but you’re not. You just said you don’t have any leads on Bob’s case.”

“Because we don’t. Do you?”

I hate it when he uses logic against me. “I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation.”

He laughed. “Okay, let’s leave that subject and get back to talking about your ex-husband who was almost murdered, the man you went to visit in the hospital.”

“I think we’d better leave that subject too. You told me it was a bad idea to tell a cop I wanted to murder my ex-husband. How about we move on to the weather?”

“So you’re not the least bit upset that a man you once loved almost died? It’s normal if you are. It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Really? I could have sworn from the desperate way you looked at me when I walked up and the way you held on while we were outside that you were a little stressed.”

“Well, maybe, sort of. Except not like you think. I’m upset because Rick didn’t leave the gifts for me.”

Trent looked confused. “You wanted Rick to leave you gifts?”

“No, of course not. I was angry with him for doing it except it wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him. He was lying in his garage bleeding or maybe even in the ambulance on the way to the hospital when someone left the butterfly.
That’s
why I’m upset. I could care less if Rick lives or dies.” Trent looked as if he’d just watched an Akira Kurosawa movie without English dubbing.

“Maybe I better start at the beginning,” I said.

“That would be a good idea. And I think I’ll have a beer after all.”

I started to get up, but he put a hand on my arm. “Stay here. I know where the refrigerator is. Don’t go anywhere. Stay right here.”

“Where would I go? This is my house.”

Henry leapt onto the sofa and sat close to me. I petted him and he purred. Listening to the sound of the ocean is relaxing, but it doesn’t come close to listening to a cat purring.

Trent returned with a beer and resumed his seat next to me. “All right. Tell me about the gifts Rick didn’t give you.”

I told him the whole story, from the roses to the butterfly, ending with my realization that it was probable some stranger had been trespassing on my property.

“And the reason you’re just now telling me this would be…?”

I shrugged and reached for another piece of candy. Confessions require chocolate. “I thought it was Rickhead.”

I watched his eyes and saw the evolution from boyfriend to cop. It wasn’t what I wanted to see. “You didn’t think the whole situation was a little strange?”

“Strange, sure, but normal for Rick. He’s done it before.”

“So the first two gifts and notes have been destroyed, but you have the butterfly, the wrapping paper and the note?”

He was all cop. My boyfriend had left the building. I needed comfort and cuddling, but I was going to get an inquisition. “The butterfly’s at the restaurant, and Fred’s got the wrapping paper and note.”

“What’s Fred doing with them?”

I spread my hands. “Seriously? You want me to speculate on what Fred’s doing with that stuff? Maybe he’s checking it for fingerprints and DNA. Maybe he’s using the back of it for scratch paper to make notes of what the voices in his head tell him. Maybe he’s developed a process to turn paper into gold.”

“Lindsay, this is serious. We need that wrapping paper, the note and the butterfly.”

“You’re probably not going to find much on the butterfly. I cleaned and sanitized it.”

He sighed. “And you call Fred OCD?”

“Hey! I put it in the display case with my cookies. I didn’t want Rick’s DNA anywhere near food.”

“I’d still like to look at it. Can you get the paper and note from Fred and bring them to the station tomorrow along with the butterfly?”

“Of course I can. What you should be asking is, will I?”

He smiled, set his beer on the coffee table and took both my hands in his. I was pleased to see flashes of green in the darkness of his eyes. My boyfriend was back. “Will you bring those items to me tomorrow?”

“Sure. After you leave, I’ll go to Fred’s and ask him.” And see if Sophie was there. Now I had a legitimate excuse for snooping.

He pulled me close. “I’m not leaving.”

I snuggled into his warmth, into his familiar arms. “I’m good with that. Not that I need a body guard, but I like sleeping with you.”

“Of course you don’t need a body guard. I would never suggest that.”

“Good.” I leaned back and cuddled against him.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and was quiet just long enough for me to relax and let my guard down. “So if Rick didn’t leave the gifts, who did?”

He just couldn’t stop playing cop. “I have no idea. Isn’t that your job, to find out?”

“I plan to do that. But this may be somebody you know. Has anybody been extra friendly lately? A neighbor? Somebody at the restaurant leave big tips? Ask you personal questions?”

I giggled. “Big tips? Definitely not. I really don’t want to talk about this right now. I want to go upstairs and get personal with you.”

Ask you personal questions?

The words evoked an image of a wide face with pock-marked skin and bushy brows low over narrow eyes that leered and winked.

“Boyfriend didn’t give you that butterfly, did he?”

“I’ll have the special dessert made by the special lady.”

“You are a feisty little thing!”

“There is a disgusting creep that’s been in Death by Chocolate a couple of times. I don’t know if he’s my stalker, but he’s awful. His name is Grady Mathis.”

“Grady Mathis? Who is he? How do you know him?” The cop again, but this time I didn’t mind, was almost glad.

Had Grady Mathis been on my porch, peeking into my window? The thought made me shudder. I’d have to scrub my porch thoroughly. Suddenly some of Fred’s OCD actions made sense.

I told Trent about the car repair shop and how Grady had acted in the restaurant, including what he asked me about the butterfly. He had shown an interest in it and had seemed certain my
boyfriend didn’t give you that butterfly, did he?

Trent shook his head. “I wish you’d told me about these incidents when they happened.”

I frowned. “Seriously? You think I should have told you that I thought Rickhead was leaving gifts again and that a rude customer flirted with me? Not my idea of pillow talk.” I settled back into his arms. “Anyway, this whole thing only started on Monday night
after
you and Lawson were over here, so other than when you hauled me into the station and had Lawson grill me about Ginger, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you. Oh, wait. Never mind. If it started on Monday, it can’t be Grady. I went to Mathis Paint and Body Shop on Tuesday. That’s the first time I met him.”

“Stalkers often obsess about someone they’ve seen but never actually met. Are you sure he hadn’t been in Death by Chocolate before you met him on Tuesday?”

When I first saw Brandon’s father I had a feeling I’d seen him before but assumed it was because there was a father-son resemblance. “I don’t know. He could have been. Their place of business isn’t very far from mine. In one day I see hundreds of faces. Brandon knew me, but I didn’t remember him.”

“Brandon’s the son, the one who ran into your car and convinced you to come to their shop in the first place?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe Brandon’s involved in all this. Maybe the father and son are in this together, and Brandon staged the accident to get you into their shop.”

Trent’s a cop and he knows about these things, but I couldn’t buy into that theory. “No way. Brandon’s a big, soft-spoken teddy bear. He’d never do something like that.”

“I’ll run a background check on both of them in the morning—”