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Authors: Cynthia Hickey

BOOK: Chocolate-Covered Crime
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“What are you doing here?” She struggled to her feet.

“I could ask you the same question.” I dropped my phone back in its case. “Keeping the business going without Mae Belle?”

“No.” She straightened her blouse. “I left something, and I’ve come back to get it.”

“You have a key?”

“Yes. I often worked longer hours than she did. Mae Belle trusted me.” Sherry pushed past me and closed the closet door. What could she have lost in a supply closet? I’d be back at another time to search more thoroughly.

“I’m just here to get the notes Mae Belle took for my wedding. I’ll be finished in a jiffy.” My spine tingled as I marched away from her, expecting at any moment to have something sticking out of my back.

The pink and white rug that once spread beneath the desk had been removed. Other than black powder over every available surface, the room looked the way it had when I’d found Mae Belle. I set my purse on the cleanest corner of the desk and opened the closest file drawer. Not much in there. I grabbed the handful of files and riffled through them. There had to be something here with handwriting that didn’t belong to my cousin.

One of those lethal, pointy note holders held many slips of messages. I grabbed them, pricking my finger in the process. Sherry’s chicken scratch could in no way match the note attached around Trashcan’s neck. I continued my search.

“What are you doing?” Sherry’s screech sent me flying back in my chair.

“I told you. Looking for my file.” My heart thudded. She reminded me of an outraged, out-of-shape Amazon warrior. “What are
you
looking for? Maybe I’ll find it.”

She grabbed the messages from my hand. “Mae Belle hadn’t had time to make you a file yet.” She stalked to the cabinet, yanked ~R acethe files from the desk, and tossed them back in the drawer. “Any notes she took would be here.” I scooted back as quickly as possible to avoid being rammed in the gut by the desk drawer. Sherry tossed a fluorescent yellow folder in front of me. “There you go. Next time, ask.”

When I stepped outside into the late September sunshine, I realized Sherry hadn’t answered my question.

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

 

Aunt Eunice arrived at work to the sight of me with pastel-colored papers spread across the marble slab in the back room. Most of the notes had nothing to do with my wedding. The colors were wrong, the food something I’d never choose, and who wanted carnations in their wedding bouquet? I fought the urge to swipe everything to the floor. No wonder Mae Belle left a long line of disgruntled customers. She didn’t pay attention to what they wanted.

“What’s up?” Aunt Eunice lifted a page.

“These are supposed to be Mae Belle’s notes for my wedding. Nothing’s right.”

I scooped the papers back in a pile. Good thing I’d kept my own set of notes in my tote bag. My glance fell on a circled letter within the name of a flower. Then another in the description of a wedding dress. A word within the ingredients of a cake. I fanned through the sheets. “Look at these words.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I think Mae Belle got my notes wrong on purpose. Get me a pencil.”

I spread the pages in a line, wishing I’d kept them in order. I scribbled the circled letters and words, holding my breath. If my hunch proved true, the puzzle Mae Belle left behind might show the identity of her killer. I stared at the confusing jargon in front of me. This could take forever. Circled words. Circled letters. I hated word games.

“Aunt Eunice, can you help me?”

“Do you realize how many messages we could make with this list?”

“That’s why I need your help.” I tossed the pencil down. “Two heads are better than one.”

“Fine.” She picked up the pencil. “Let’s count the letters. How many As are there?”

“One.”

size="3" face="Times New Roman">“Great. Bs?” And so on we went until I grew more confused than ever.

“There are six Ss. Let’s assume the message begins with your name. Also, she’s given us some words to work with—
something, cushions, sofa
, and
happen
.”

“Some of the
Ss
you asked for are in those words.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Aunt Eunice chewed the end of the

pencil. Whenever I tried to volunteer an idea, she shushed me. Two hours later, with me bored out of my mind, she grinned. “Solved it.”

She handed the message to me.

 

Summer, if something should happen to me, look in the cushions of my red and white sofa. M.B.

 

I frowned. “How do you know this is what it says?”

“It makes sense. Look at the letters that are left after you use the words. There are only so many possibilities. You just try them all until you hit on something. And Mae Belle did have a red and white sofa.”

Horror
. We’d donated it after cleaning out her apartment. I grabbed my purse. “Let’s go. Hopefully, Secondhand Bart still has that monstrosity in his store.”

We hung out a Be Back Soon sign and hopped in the car.

Each mile nearer to the resale shop brought me that much closer to solving Mae Belle’s murder. She wouldn’t have taken the time to leave me a message if it weren’t to tell me something important. Worse, she probably suspected something might happen to her and needed to tell someone about it in secret. Goose pimples prickled my flesh.

“Slow down, Summer.” Aunt Eunice clutched her purse to her stomach.

I glanced at the speedometer. Seventy! I eased my foot off the pedal. “Sorry. We could have this case solved by tonight, Aunt Eunice. Imagine.” Then I could get back to planning my wedding.

“Don’t jump the gun. Mae Belle had a tendency to be a little wacky. Could be a wild-goose chase. Why didn’t she just leave the clue in her office? Or a safety deposit box? Or mail it? Now that’s a concept.”

“I don’t know. One thing at a time. I’m just hoping the sofa is still with Bart.”

My nerves twitched like live wires by the time we arrived at the consignment shop. Right away, my gaze landed on Mae Belle’s seven-foot sofa st~R w Ruffed in a back corner.
Thank You, God.
I marched over, lifted a cushion, and unzipped the cover.

“Excuse me?” Bart’s paunch blocked my view. A stain in the shape of Texas stretched across his belly. “May I help you?”

“I need to look inside these cushions.” I shoved my hand beneath the cotton fabric feeling nothing but rough foam. I tossed the cushion and grabbed another. Bart snatched it from my hands and leaned over me. I glanced up into a ruddy face with a bulbous nose and flashing green eyes.

“Stop.”

I tried standing, bounced off his gut, and landed back where I’d started. I could’ve asked him to move, but his expression told me my request wouldn’t be well received. I kept my gaze focused on his stomach. The stain danced as he breathed.

“I’m sorry, Bart, but we donated this sofa to you, and we left something in one of the cushions.”

“I’m not Bart, and anything left is now mine.”

“Then let me speak to Bart.”

“There isn’t a Bart.” He spoke slowly and distinctly like he thought I’d have trouble understanding.

“How much?” Aunt Eunice stepped forward. “We’ll buy the sofa.”

“Aunt Eunice!”

Non-Bart backed up and grinned. “Seventy-five dollars.”

“Sold.” Aunt Eunice wrote him a check while I resumed my digging.

Aha!
Deep in one of the corners, I found a folded triangle of paper. “Got it!”

“Great.” Aunt Eunice turned back to Non-Bart. “I’m now redonating the sofa and would like a receipt for tax purposes.”

I smiled. Good ol’ Aunt Eunice. The woman thought of everything. I fairly skipped to my car, the triangle clutched in my fist like a prize.

“Well, let’s see it.” Aunt Eunice slid into the front seat. “I’ve got a headache from breaking the code. Don’t keep me waiting.”

I unfolded the paper and groaned. Water stains marred the words. What had Non-Bart done? Cleaned the sofa? I’d need a brighter light than the failing sun to be able to make anything out.

“It looks like a list.” Aunt Eunice peered at the paper as I drove. “No, a list of thoughts—like clues.
Computer, scam, money
. . .I can’t make out the rest.”

“Mae Belle knew something about someone. But what? This whole thing is driving me crazy.”

“We’re getting closer all the time. Almost as close as you are to that car.” My aunt clutched the dashboard.

My tires screeched as I slammed on the brakes. Aunt Eunice’s purse hit the floor between her feet. My heart lodged in my throat. The driver of the Cadillac sent me an obscene gesture through his rearview mirror. I waved apologetically in return and willed my pulse to slow.

“Well, that was fun.” Aunt Eunice retrieved her spilled belongings and straightened. “Best I can figure out from Mae Belle’s waterlogged clues is that someone was a victim of a computer scam. And since most people nowadays have a computer, it could be anyone.”

I pressed the accelerator. “Mae Belle figured out who was scamming whom, and the rest is history.”

But where did I go from here? How many people in Mountain Shadows would fall for a computer scam? We might be country, but we weren’t stupid. But were any of us capable of sticking a letter opener in Mae Belle’s back? I shook my head. No, the wielder of the deadly weapon must be the person responsible for the scam.

I’d really been hoping to find out whose handwriting matched the note on Trashcan’s collar. How could I get a peek at Renee’s handwriting? Her printing, not cursive.

“You’re speeding again.” Aunt Eunice tightened her seat belt.

“Sorry.” I needed to get back into A Dream Wedding. There had to be something left from Mae Belle’s planning of Renee’s birthday party.

I’d go tonight. I pressed harder on the gas pedal.

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

Dressed in black jeans and a turtleneck sweater, I pulled a knit cap over my head. I didn’t need my hair shining like a red-light special announcing to the world I snooped through A Dream Wedding after hours. I grabbed my bag of investigating tools and sneaked downstairs, avoiding where the floor creaked.

“Where are you going?”

I shrieked and whirled. Aunt Eunice stepped around the corner.

“How did you know I was going anywhere?”

“These walls are thin, Summer. I heard you getting dressed. It’s a g~R nheiood thing your uncle sleeps like the dead, or you wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

“I’m going to Mae Belle’s shop. I didn’t have time to search thoroughly earlier.”

“I’m going with you.” Aunt Eunice moved into the glow from the hall night-light also dressed in dark colors. “I knew you were up to something. I got ready and waited.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Sneaky woman. You do realize we might get into trouble?”

“Bring it on, honey.” She giggled and locked the door behind us. “This detective stuff gets under your skin, doesn’t it? Burrows in just like a chigger.”

“Ethan told me to buy bug spray to take care of the mystery problem. It is kind of like an insect that digs in and doesn’t let go.”

The closer we got to A Dream Wedding, the sillier we became until we snorted with laughter. My eyes watered. The promise of adventure ensnared us with its euphoria.

I pulled into the alley behind the store and cut the lights. A street lamp highlighted the door like a portal. I grabbed my bag, exited the car, then stood staring at the building. The alley didn’t afford any glimpse inside. My heart skipped a beat. What if someone waited, lurking in the shadows, with the evil intent of finishing me off? I choked back a scream when Aunt Eunice clapped me on the shoulder.

“Come on. I’ve got a key. Claudia gave it to me.” She marched forward and unlocked the door. “I’ll turn on the lights.”

“No, I don’t want anyone to know we’re here this late. Too many questions.” Inside, I flicked on my nifty little flashlight. “I’m looking for anything that matches the handwriting on this.” I handed her the note from Trashcan’s collar.

“Weren’t you supposed to turn this over to Joe?”

“Haven’t had the chance. He knows where it is if he wants it.” I ran the light beam over the storage room. “My guess is that one of Mae Belle’s previous clients left their signature, notes, something behind. And whatever it is, it matches this print. I’m going through her office again. You check in front behind the counter.”

Aunt Eunice pulled a flashlight from under her sweatshirt. “I came prepared.” She brandished it like a warrior’s sword and stalked away, shining the light from one corner of the store to the other.

My gaze fell on the plateglass window that graced the front of the building. “Stop flashing that light around. You’re announcing to the whole town that we’re in here.”

“Okeydoke.”

I headed to my destination, pulled the blinds closed on the office window, then turned on the light. I plopped my bag on the desk and my bottom in Mae Belle’s~R fty littl office chair. She’d spent her inheritance well. The chair cushioned me, folding me in leather softness.

With a sigh, I glanced around. I’d checked the file cabinet already. Where else could my scatterbrained cousin have stashed notes?

A Rolodex caught my attention, and I flipped through the few cards with names and numbers. Every name on my suspect list was in there. I grabbed an empty card and scribbled down the information. Bangs and thuds came from the front of the store.

“Aunt Eunice?” I dropped the card in my bag.

“I’m all right. Just looking! Knocked over some ugly statue thing. Its head fell off.”

I gazed around the room. For something so gaudily decorated, Mae Belle had kept it impossibly neat. Surely one of her clients had written down something she’d kept.

“Woo-hoo! Found something.”

Great. I leaped to my feet and sprinted to join my aunt. She handed me a slip of pink paper. “Here.”

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