Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates (A Chocolate Covered Mystery) (22 page)

She looked shocked and then laughed. “What happened?”

“Erica had to run out and I was elected game warden.” The affection in my voice surprised both of us.

One of the twins pointed to the sling on my shoulder. “Boo-boo.” He made a sad face.

“Will wonders never cease,” she said. “Do you want me to take over?”

I thought about my cell phone back in the kitchen and what Erica and Bean were doing. But there was something about holding those two that made me all squishy inside. Then Thing 1 bounced a little on my leg and I felt something else squishy. “They’re all yours.”

They went to Kona happily, Thing 2 giving me a sticky kiss on the cheek before grabbing her hand.

I’d missed one call from Erica, so I called her back, anxious to find out what happened with the phone. Had they caught the guy who called Emberton?

“The police are here,” she said. “I’ll call you later.” She hung up.

E
rica and Bean arrived at the store five minutes before we opened at ten. Bean filled me in while Erica finished getting the store ready. A teen had dropped his last cigarette in the tall grass behind the inconvenience store. When he moved the grass aside, he found a cell phone and turned it on, and it pinged off the closest tower. The poor kid was fooling around with the phone and enjoying his smoke when Detective Lockett and Lieutenant Bobby drove up and scared the crap out of him.

The police had decided that the phone most likely had been thrown from the highway soon after the call to the gallery owner was made. It was a prepaid “burner” phone, commonly used by criminals like Larry.

They were not happy to see Erica and Bean show up, but neither one admitted how they knew where to find the phone.

Bean took Colleen’s usual place at the store, working the cash register. As the morning wore on, I realized I had some kind of radar for him, constantly feeling the tug to see if he was still there. And he was often looking back with a warm smile.

He was probably smiling because of my ridiculous scratched face and my arm in a sling. His presence certainly added to my tension—as if I didn’t have enough to worry about.

At noon, Erica brought over small flyers for the Denise Coburn Memorial Photography Exhibit. She’d worked fast; the flyer used a photo of the beautiful oak tree that had grown beside the town church for decades and noted that the event would be held Friday evening in the community center.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Is that one of Denise’s?” Erica nodded. “She was so talented.”

I stared at the photo, realizing that the shadows on the bottom were gravestones from the old cemetery. I couldn’t help feeling like we were on a runaway train that might not stop in time.

• • • • • • • • • 

A
s Friday approached, Emberton threw himself into the show, calling us constantly to inform us of his progress in printing the photos over and over until they were perfect.

Erica had asked him why Denise had stripped the geotags from the photos for his gallery.

“That’s not so uncommon,” he said. “Especially for nature photographers. They don’t want another artist to go shoot the same scene.” He sniffed. “Although it would be nearly impossible for another photographer to capture the same photograph.”

We never told him our secret motive for the exhibit; he was so entranced by Denise’s art that he’d be totally heartbroken if he found out. He used his considerable public relations reach to promote the show and we were getting calls from all over northern Maryland and as far east as DC and Baltimore. We encouraged each contact to stay for the rest of our weekend events.

Kona, Kayla and I ramped up our chocolate production for the arts festival, still unsure what to expect. We held daily meetings with the Great Fudge Cook-off committee to keep everything going according to schedule and attend to last-minute details. Hotel reservations had dropped off even further after Larry’s murder, and no amount of press releases by Erica or new slogans by Gwen were bringing people back in.

We still hadn’t heard anything concrete from Hillary’s people, so we assumed the worst and asked Nurse Tonya, our YouTube star, to fill in as our celebrity judge if we needed her.

Colleen made herself scarce most of the week, and Bean was taking up the slack, so I had a lot of unnerving moments seeing him across the store. Kona noticed. “Someone’s got a boyfriend,” she teased.

“Nah,” I said. “That would really be a bad idea. He’s leaving right after the book signing.”

“But just think how much fun you could have before he goes.” She laughed at my intrigued expression.

It didn’t help that word had spread that the great Benjamin Russell was helping out in his family bookstore. Fan girls started arriving from all over, even as far away as Baltimore. The one who showed up right before closing wearing a halter top and almost illegal shorts caused me some worry, but Bean sent her on her way.

Other than a few flirty looks, he didn’t try anything with me either, no matter how many times I left the door open to my kitchen. I could not figure him out.

The arts festival stuffing party took over the dining area on Wednesday night, with the drama club and math team coming together to help us out. Though from the sullen expressions some of the kids had, they may have been there to fulfill volunteer hours.

Steve and Jolene herded them all with humor and genuine fondness. “Okay, we’re setting up an assembly line here,” Steve explained. “Put these tables together, sit down, take your pile of junk that’s depleting our environmental resources, I mean valuable advertising that everyone will want to read, and put it neatly, and I mean neatly, into the bag.”

Johnny Horton, our security kid, had tagged along with an adorable teen with
Nerd Girl
on her T-shirt and huge manga girl eyes that reminded me of the stuffed animals Erica sometimes sold. He sighed as he saw me and came over, while she stared longingly after him, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from him for one freakin’ minute.

I felt like sighing too. I’d forgotten about Denise for a little bit with the place full of young, bubbly energy.

“Hey, Johnny,” I said, while I finished wiping down the counters. My arm was doing much better but still twinged if I overdid it. “Any news for me?”

He nodded. “Wanted to let you know that it was the backdoor code that guy used to get in here.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Any way to figure out who all knows that code?”

“I can’t,” he said with a that’s-all-I-can-do jerk of his shoulder, and then he shuffled back to Nerd Girl.

I finished cleaning up while the group continued stuffing flyers into the plastic Get Me Some Solar bags, which reminded me that with all the other stuff going on, Erica hadn’t researched that company.

Just as the students were about to finish, Principal Palladine stopped in. “I heard some of my juvenile delinquents were here trashing the place.” He smiled affectionately as they greeted him, some with more enthusiasm than others. Johnny gave the principal a high five as he stood behind the chairs, and his girlfriend beamed.

School sure had changed if it was actually cool to know the principal.

• • • • • • • • • 

C
olleen was waiting for me outside the store on Thursday morning. Even though she was sitting down, petting Coco, I knew something was up. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Well, not really. I need to ask you . . .” She seemed to run out of steam and then blurted out, “What do you think of me handing over management of the store to Erica and going back to school full time?”

What? I needed more coffee for this. Coco left Colleen and started winding herself around my ankles. “What does it matter what I think?”

She scowled. “Do you think Erica would be okay with it? I mean, I’m sure she’d be able to handle it, but do you think she’d feel trapped?”

“That’s a good question,” I said. “I know she liked being away, but she seems really happy being home. Did you feel trapped?”

She got a faraway look. “I’m figuring that out, with my therapist. I do. But she’s helped me realize that I always trapped myself.”

I thought carefully about what I would say. “Everything I know about Erica is that if she felt trapped, she’d find a way out. But I think she feels that she’s got it made now. She gets to be around her family, especially your adorable kids.” Hey! I was able to say that without a grimace now. “She loves working with books. She does research whenever she feels like it. She—”

Colleen interrupted me. “But Bean’s been helping her and he’s going to leave soon.”

I felt a pang at her certainty that Bean would be gone. Of course he was leaving. I was an idiot to hope he wouldn’t. “Then Erica will hire and train someone. They won’t be as good as you, but they’ll be good enough. Look at Kona and Kayla—they could run the place without me.”

Well, they couldn’t
really
, but Colleen didn’t have to know that. She left, appearing to feel better. I hoped she planned to tell Erica soon. This was one secret it’d be hard to keep.

• • • • • • • • • 

L
ater that afternoon, Emberton and his assistant drove up from DC with a van full of Denise’s mounted photos in various sizes, stands and lighting, and we started setting up for Denise’s memorial photo exhibit.

Plenty of people tried the door handle and then knocked to offer their assistance, but we firmly but politely told them we were handling it. The show would open early Friday evening with a simple wine and cheese spread, donated by Emberton himself.

Detective Lockett had approved Bean using his own “photog,” as he called him—a leathery-faced man in a cowboy hat who silently went about setting up hidden cameras around the community-center-turned-gallery. Bean said he’d worked with him on some undercover story, but I didn’t want to ask too many questions.

Every once in a while, I’d position a photograph and my hands would tremble until I got control again. It felt like I was holding something sacred—the work of someone who had just died. Denise had worked on her craft as hard as I worked on making chocolate, and she didn’t even get to eat the result.

If this worked like we hoped, we’d catch a killer, which had to be good. Someone would try to get a photo out, or hide it, and we’d know the bad guy. Just like on TV.

I should have been more excited, but instead I was scared that we were causing something monumental to happen, something that would affect the whole town.

Erica was quiet, perhaps feeling the same trepidation I did. “I looked into Maryland inheritance law,” she said. “Since Denise had no relatives, not even distant ones, her estate goes to the local school district.”

“That’s kinda nice.” I looked around at the carefully placed photos. Then worry got to me. “What if no one shows up?”

She knew I meant the killer, not our neighbors. “Then we’ll think of something else,” Erica said.

• • • • • • • • • 

B
ean and his photog, appropriately nicknamed Cowboy, set up a pseudo command center in the back hallway after we closed up the store. We’d gone into stealth mode, shutting the blinds and turning off the lights. We’d stocked up on pizza and caffeinated soda, determined to keep watch on the community center all night.

The desk lamps competed with the glare from multiple computer screens set up on the tables we’d dragged in from the dining area. Zane and Cowboy hit it off right away, talking tech stuff as they watched the various camera views.

Bobby, Bean, Erica and I took turns paying attention to the view from the outside cameras. Bobby wasn’t all that sure he should be there. While Lockett had supported our little sting operation, Chief Noonan had protested the use of “civilians,” as he described us.

“Remember when Lucky got sprayed by a skunk and we chased him through the house?” Bean seemed to be trying to put everyone at ease.

Erica met Bobby’s eyes when they laughed, and then she looked away.

Bobby cleared his throat before adding, “I don’t know who your mom wanted to kill first—us or the dog.”

By midnight, we decided that Bobby and I should take a break and nap on the couches in the dining area until our shift at two. Zane and Cowboy exchanged a sneer that said, “
Wimps
.”

“This is weird, right?” I murmured as we dozed in the dark in couches across from each other.

He yawned. “Definitely weird.”

At one, Erica said, “There he is!”

Bobby and I jumped up and dashed to the hallway, pushing our desk chairs back to the table.

An outside camera showed a man letting himself in the back door of the community center. We all scrambled to crowd around Zane and Cowboy’s table, craning for an inside camera view. The man walked between the photos with a small flashlight, scrutinizing each one. It was impossible to see his features, but something about the way he held himself seemed familiar.

Bobby called Detective Lockett to bring him up to speed.

I squinted at the screen. “Who is it?” I was surprised by the urgency in my voice. “I swear I know him.”

No one responded, each of us trying to figure it out. The man stopped in front of one of the larger photos and picked it up from its easel. He stared at it for a long time. Then in one angry gesture, he ripped off the cardboard backing, folded the photo and shoved it in his jacket pocket. He lifted a tablecloth and hid the cardboard underneath.

As he replaced the photo with one from the wall, the flashlight fell against his face and I recognized him.

I ran for the back door, ignoring Bobby’s yell to stop and took off for the community center two blocks away. He caught up with me just as Principal Palladine came out the back door and two police cars drove up behind us, lights flashing. Peter looked around wildly, realizing he had nowhere to go. Then he met my eyes.

I sidestepped Bobby’s grab for my arm and parked myself in front of the principal. “How could you?” I yelled, sounding more like a betrayed child than an angry adult. I pushed him hard in the chest and he took a step back.