First-Degree Fudge: A Fudge Shop Mystery (22 page)

T
hat Thursday wasn’t all bad. I got so engrossed in the art of loafing fudge with one hand that time escaped me.

At ten that morning Destiny Hubbard and my grandfather walked down the pier. Both did a jig in the middle of the shop, which made Harbor leap from his bed of towels by the beer cooler. I was the only one there. Cody had gone to school, happily so with his new buzz cut. He said he was a “new man.” I suspected he felt Bethany would love the look.

Gilpa crowed, “I’m a free man! Isn’t Destiny great?”

Harbor had his paws on Destiny’s shoulders before I could intervene. I couldn’t do much with my bandaged arm but say, “Harbor, sit.”

He did, his tail swishing the floor as he stared at me with his big brown orbs. I slipped him a piece of beef jerky.

Gilpa asked, “And who’s this?”

I hugged my grandpa, explaining about Harbor being a stray, then asked Destiny, “How did you do it? Bail had to be enormous.”

She was brushing dog hair off a red pantsuit that made her cute as a Christmas elf. “I studied all the theories about Rainetta Johnson and convinced the authorities that with that much circumstantial evidence only and nothing concrete, they had to reduce the bail. Considerably.”

Gilpa hauled an arm around Destiny’s shoulders. “We got bail down to only this shop. They left my boat alone. I gotta go take a look at ’er and get myself ready for weekend tours.”

I almost told him about the smoking engines, but didn’t want to break his happy mood. He gathered tools, then hiked out. The bell clanked behind him. His footsteps faded on the wood pier.

Harbor watched him through the windows, then put his front paws up on the edge of the marble loafing table for a gander at my fudge.

“No, Harbor!” I raced to pull him down with one arm. “Sit.”

He did. Then he snuck a lick of my hand.

I sighed. “At least he knows some tricks. Ranger found this mutt this morning. I have to call the Humane Society. And I have to wash my hands again. You want to come back while we talk?”

I headed to the kitchen.

Destiny’s heels echoed on the floor. “Having a dog is good psychology. Maybe you should skip calling about him for a couple of days at least.”

“Why?”

“Nobody looks guilty when they have a cute dog by their side. The press will be back when news leaks out about the Reeds and the other guests all possibly being arrested for a conspiracy. Nothing like this has ever happened in Wisconsin or maybe anywhere.”

With the water running in the sink, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. But when I asked her to repeat it as I dried my hands, the molecules in my body realigned. I thought of poor Izzy. “As much as I want publicity for my shop, there’s a big downside to all this attention. It’s stressful for everybody here in Fishers’ Harbor.”

“But you can’t wish it away. You’re going to have to deal with this for weeks to come.”

I thought about the diamonds Pauline and I had left in Jeremy Stone’s room. “Did they find anything yet?”

“Too early for me to know. And the sheriff isn’t going to divulge anything until he feels like it. But because Gil Oosterling is my client, I’ll of course stay vigilant and request anything that’s public record.”

My appreciation for this sharp slip of a young woman rose yet again. We headed back to the front just as Laura Rousseau surprised me by walking in with a huge box cradled in her arms. She was struggling to carry it because of her huge pregnancy bump and because Harbor kept leaping into the air to try to look in the box.

I introduced Laura to Harbor, and Destiny to the owner of the Luscious Ladle Bakery and Cooking School in Sister Bay. Cinnamon fragrance swirled around our heads, intoxicating us.

“Don’t tell me you brought cinnamon rolls?” I helped her set the big box down on the register counter and tucked away the thought of developing cinnamon-bun-flavored fudge.

“Made with wheat from Washington Island,” Laura said. Washington Island was off the northernmost tip of Door County. The wheat was famously used now in Wisconsin beers as well as baked goods. “We talked about doing an exchange to help cross-promote each other, so here I am. I’ll leave my rolls here for sale if you’ll give me Cinderella Pink Fudge for sale at my shop.”

“And maybe you can convince Al Johnson’s Restaurant to give out samples since you deliver bread to them.” I was feeling on top of things again. Grandma was right; I just had to commit to something. My fudge had to be my priority. And it was going to suffice for a relationship for now. Although it might please Grandma, I couldn’t encourage Sam. Besides, it was proven that eating chocolate increased brain activity and your heart rate more than passionate kissing did.

Laura agreed to the deal just as the back door banged. It was Isabelle again.

This time she was dressed in designer jeans and a V-necked, white cotton sweater. Her face had been scrubbed. She had a sheepish demeanor. Harbor seemed to sense something was amiss and lay down in a furry puddle in the middle of the floor.

Izzy already knew Laura, but I introduced her to Destiny. They were close to the same height, a matched pair of cuteness and chicness.

Izzy said, “Cody’s the real reason the sheriff turned my world upside down today.”

I sucked in my breath, ready for a fight in front of me, but Izzy laughed. “I came down to apologize, Ava. I’m stressed out from this murder. It’s an awful thing when that happens in your own house.”

“All is forgiven,” I said, rushing to wrap her in a hug.

“I want to make it up to you. I was thinking about having another party that would feature your fudge. Maybe we could introduce a second new flavor, to make the party special.”

This puzzled me. “Are you sure you’re ready for another party?”

“No, but it wouldn’t be at my place,” she said.

Harbor came over to sniff her, then sat next to me and leaned against my legs while Izzy continued. “Since the party was supposed to be a fund-raiser to refurbish that old mansion that the village inherited, maybe we could find a way to have the party there?”

A candlelike glow popped to life inside me. “Have you been talking to Cody Fjelstad?”

“No, why?”

I told the women about Cody’s wish for holding a prom party in the mansion. Prom was only a week from Saturday, unfortunately.

“Not much time at all.” Izzy worried a lip with her teeth for only a moment. “But we can do it. I’ll contribute cleaning supplies and round up the cleaning ladies I hired last fall when I took over the Blue Heron.”

Laura volunteered to provide balloons. “I keep tons of them on hand for my baking school parties for kids. And I can bake bread bowls for special dips and special cupcakes. What’s the color scheme?”

“It has to be pink,” I said. “Cody said Bethany’s favorite color is pink, and he’s already planning to give her pink carnations.”

Izzy said, “And of course your fudge is pink.”

We laughed at how quickly we put together a prom party. Harbor barked, making us laugh harder.

“He’s volunteering, too,” Destiny said. “What can I do?”

I asked, “Can you look into our village codes? We might need permits fast. Our village president is all of nineteen. He might need guidance.”

“Nineteen?” Destiny struck a modeling pose. “This is a cinch. I’ll stop by to talk with him before I drive back to Sturgeon Bay.”

I told her where Erik Gustafson lived, and then Destiny took off. Laura left right after her.

I headed back to finish loafing my fudge at the front of the store, Harbor following and settling at my feet, so close that I feared he’d trip me.

Isabelle shook her head. “He sure sticks by you, for some reason. Maybe he’s afraid of me.”

“I doubt that, Izzy. Maybe it’s that perfume you’re wearing. What is it?”

Isabelle flushed.

Kneading the silken dough under my hand, I said, “Don’t tell me. It’s Rainetta’s?”

“What use was she going to get out of it? Her manager would have just tossed it.”

What she said made sense, though her taking things from a dead woman was starting to feel unsettling. Maybe I was just too sensitive and not being practical. But then there was my trust issue. I trusted Izzy. She had a good heart, after all, and was being put through hell right now, what with the sheriff rifling through her things and questioning her guests again. Izzy had to feel adrift; she was in need of true friends. “Thanks, Izzy, for the party idea. I hope we can get that place in shape within nine days. It’s a mess. Have you seen it lately?”

“I’ve never been inside. Too busy with my own place.”

I told her about my sojourn there with Pauline two days ago and confessed about being pushed down the stairs.

She gasped. “My gosh. I really have been distracted. Did you always have that wrist bandaged? I never noticed it until now.”

I held up my left wrist. “I only started bandaging it yesterday. It was Cody’s idea, and it feels better with the support. He thinks the Reeds are responsible. Or at least, I think that.”

“Will and Hannah are always nervous, and they are constantly arguing.”

“Cody thinks the Reeds tried to push him down the back stairs in your place, and I’m thinking that maybe they were in that mansion and tried to do the same to me.”

“Do you suppose they were trying to hide diamonds over there?”

“Or other things from your place, too. Have you done an inventory lately?”

“No, but I did notice a couple of the glass paperweights missing, but I assume my guests are using them on their desks or something. I’m sure they’re still at the inn. I’m always there, and so are the Reeds.”

“Are you sure? What if they’ve been sneaking down your back stairs? Hannah came through the back door of my fudge shop on Tuesday to make a purchase of some kind, then left the same way.”

“But they’d have to go through Jeremy Stone’s room.”

“He’s never around. They’d have no problem stealing and sneaking things out.”

Izzy got a horrified look. “Maybe we
should
look around that abandoned mansion.”

“I don’t know if that’s wise, not without the sheriff with us.” I suddenly didn’t want to go back to the place for fear of finding all manner of stolen goods from Izzy’s inn.

“But all the suspects are with the sheriff right now at my inn. This could be a perfect time to check out the mansion for the party. And if we find diamonds or my paperweights, that’s a bonus.”

Izzy appeared to be her old self again, and her plea sounded too adventurous to pass up. I said, “Help me put this fudge in a cooling pan. Then we’ll go.”

Moose Lindstrom walked in just then, banging the door all the way back to where it clanged the cowbell against the wall under the big picture window. He glanced at all the pink stuff on the shelves on my side, shuddered, then said, “Did ya know your grandfather’s trying to blow himself up?”

• • •

Gilpa had an engine casing off. He appeared to be rewiring old, frazzled wires that were likely the reason for us smoking all the way back in the boat yesterday. Izzy and I stood safely on the pier with Moose.

I called over to Gilpa, “What’re you doing? Moose says you’re trying to kill yourself.”

Gilpa didn’t look up. “Tell Moose to mind his own business because I’ve got a business of my own to run.”

It was heading toward ten thirty, which made me look up at Moose, who was standing between Izzy and me. I asked, “Aren’t you usually out with a fishing tour at this time?”

Thursdays were pretty busy days for Moose and Gilpa because people started four-day fishing weekends then. A lot of Chicago people came up to Door County on Thursdays.

Moose harrumphed. “Coast Guard had us stay in this morning. Something about inspecting all vessels for illegal cargo. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was about those diamonds in your fudge. Wouldn’t take much to run a batch of fudge in my boat to a buyer out on the water.” He chuckled. “Imagine hauling fudge as if it were some pirate’s booty.”

“Moose, that’s exactly how I want people to feel about my fudge.”

Gilpa called over, “You tell ’im, Ava Mathilde! Chocolate doubloons!”

Izzy tugged at my elbow. “Everybody’s all right here. Let’s get to the mansion before I have to go back to the surly lineup of guests I’m babysitting.”

“They might need to be in a lineup soon,” I said, following her up the pier and past my shop.

The shop building looked worn out today; I was seeing it through new eyes. Grandma’s words from last night were resonating with me. She was right about setting priorities. If I were going to thrive here, I had to do something about our old building. Gilpa and I were just too cramped in it. But I also knew that Door County didn’t let you destroy the historical integrity of buildings, such as remodeling too much or razing them to build something bigger. I didn’t have enough money to move anywhere else, though. Harbor put his paws up on the inside windowsill as I passed the shop, emphasizing that the shop was no bigger than a giant dog house.

Izzy and I made our way down the dock area, past the parking lot, and across the street and past the back sides of condos and shops. We headed for the corner. We had one block after that to reach Main Street.