Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates (A Chocolate Covered Mystery) (5 page)

I
screamed, just as Erica came through the front door, the bells attached to the handle ringing. “Erica! Something’s wrong with Denise!”

Erica whipped out her phone, dialed 911 and handed it to me. She checked Denise’s neck for a pulse and then pulled her awkwardly to the floor.

“West Riverdale Police. State your emergency.”

I recognized Maxine’s voice, the older lady originally from New York who bought a small box of Black Forest Milks every Friday night before her shift. “I have an emergency.” My voice shook. “At Chocolates and Chapters.”

“Michelle?”

“Yes. I think Denise is seriously sick.” I watched Erica start CPR and added, “Maybe dead. Please send an ambulance now!”

Her training must have kicked in because she said, “I’ll have someone there right away. Please hold on.”

“Michelle.” Erica used her no-nonsense tone while she pushed on Denise’s chest and counted. “Go into the kitchen and find something to suction out her airway.”

I ran to the kitchen and set the phone down, ignoring Maxine’s voice when she came back on. I wrenched open a drawer, grabbed a turkey baster and ran back to Erica as sirens sounded in the distance. Luckily, the town’s police and fire stations were only a few blocks away.

“Perfect,” she said, continuing to count and push down hard on Denise’s chest. When she paused to check her pulse, she told me, “Now clean out her mouth, but don’t touch anything. That foam may indicate poison.”

Poison? My eyes went to the box of my chocolates on the table. Oh. My. God.

A police car screeched to a halt in front of the store and Lieutenant Bobby Simkin ran in. He dropped down beside Erica and took over CPR. “Anything?” he asked her.

She shook her head and moved me aside, grabbing the turkey baster from my hand. “Sorry.”

“You did great,” he said, completely focused on Denise.

We backed up out of the way when the fire truck arrived and two firefighters rushed in.

I grabbed Erica’s hand which started to shake violently.

The firefighters stepped in and Bobby joined us. “What happened?” he asked, breathing hard from his effort.

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling powerless. “She was here when I came in.”

“Let’s go.” Bobby directed us outside as the ambulance arrived, the EMTs rushing in with a gurney. “I’m sorry but I have to separate you two while I secure the scene.”

We both stared at him, stunned that he was treating us like suspects.

Erica and Bobby had dated in high school, and he was one of my brother’s best friends. Sometimes it was still hard for me to believe he was a policeman.

“It’s procedure.” He glanced sideways at Erica, but she followed directions and moved to stand on one end of the building and I waited by the other. It seemed ridiculous.

Bobby retrieved crime-scene tape from his car and secured it between trees in front of the store. Another policeman, who didn’t look old enough to drink let alone wear a police uniform, arrived. He pulled out his own yellow tape and went around to the back of the building.

Chocolates and Chapters was a crime scene.

I tried to catch my breath, leaning back against the wall. Erica looked like how I felt—shocked and bewildered.

Tires screeched and we stood up as Colleen jumped out of her car.

“Colleen!” Bobby grabbed her arm as she attempted to come inside the tape. “Erica is fine.”

She watched as the emergency workers placed Denise on the gurney while continuing CPR.

“You can’t go in,” Bobby said.

Erica’s face crumbled when she saw her sister and she rushed over to grab her, the tape between them. I pushed back tears as a flood of emotion hit me. The grim faces of the emergency personnel told me the truth. That Denise was dead. Maybe poisoned. Maybe by my chocolates.

Chief of Police Eric Noonan drove up in his own car, his pace sedate compared to Colleen, and my heart began to race. He got out, seeming unhurried even though he must have rushed to get dressed and looked like he’d just run a hand through his shock of gray hair.

Usually I appreciated his deliberate air. Somehow it inspired confidence in his ability to do the right thing, although people sometimes grew exasperated when it seemed to take so long. Even choosing which chocolates to order took him forever and he always chose Simply Delish Milks. Every single time.

The chief watched Denise being loaded into the ambulance and took in the entire scene before directing the other officer to widen the secure area. He strolled over to us. “Report,” he ordered Bobby as he opened a well-worn notepad.

Bobby had transferred home over a year before from the Baltimore Police Department, where he’d been a decorated officer, but Chief Noonan still acted like he didn’t quite trust him. It might have something to do with Bobby riding his motorcycle through our high school graduation, narrowly avoiding hitting a lot of parents. But it was an awesome memory for our class.

Bobby spoke in a respectful tone. “The nine-one-one dispatcher informed us of an emergency at this address at zero seven hundred. I arrived to find Ms. Russell performing CPR on Ms. Coburn, with Ms. Serrano helping. I proceeded to take over. The patient was nonresponsive. The firefighters arrived and continued CPR.”

Noonan nodded to Bobby. He turned to me. “Who found Ms. Coburn?”

“Me,” I admitted in almost a whisper.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I came in early as always, but the door was unlocked. I was distracted by this cat outside and Denise was here ahead of me. I thought it was weird when I smelled . . .”

“Smelled what?” he asked.

“I smelled her perfume.”

He stared at me.

“It’s Samsara,” I said, my tone defensive.

“Michelle’s borderline hyperosmic,” Erica said. “In a good way. Smells aren’t stronger for her than the average person. She can just smell variations of scents others can’t.”

“I’m not hyperosmic,” I told the chief. “It’s part of being a chef.” He wrote down a note. I could just imagine it.
Thinks she smells well.

The chief asked, “So you walked straight back to Denise?”

“Yes.” I remembered my side trip. “Well, no. I remembered the break-in Denise had last month, so I went back to the kitchen and picked up a big ladle. And my cell phone.”

“A ladle?” Chief Noonan sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lieutenant Bobby tried to hide a smile.

“It was heavy!” I said.

“So you thought you might be going into danger, so you picked up a
ladle
, and continued on.” He shook his head like a disapproving parent. “What happened next?”

“I, uh, found her.” My throat closed up and I began again with effort. “She wasn’t moving.”

Erica took a step toward me and I shook my head. I told him everything, my voice shaking. The chocolate on the table. The froth in her mouth. Erica’s CPR attempt.

He stayed quiet, taking copious notes and nodding at times. “Anyone you know have a beef with Denise?”

“Enough to want to . . .” I couldn’t finish the thought as the ambulance drove away ominously slowly, the siren on low.

“I know it’s difficult to consider, but just think about it. Was anyone mad at Denise?”

Erica jumped in. “Larry the Loser. I mean Stapleton. Her ex-boyfriend. He has criminal tendencies.”

Holy cow. Could Larry have done this? “And we think he’s the one who broke in here,” I added.

“You didn’t tell us that at the time,” Noonan said, exasperation coming through.

“Um, no,” I admitted. “It was Denise’s studio. We let her handle it. And she said nothing was stolen.”

Erica dropped Colleen’s hand and started pacing, which always got her brain juices flowing. “But we changed the security codes after the break-in. How could he possibly get in here and poison the chocolates?”

Colleen and I gasped together. She thought the same thing. That my chocolates were poisoned. And they killed Denise.

“Okay, that’s enough speculation.” The chief’s voice was firm. “Colleen. If you must stay, please wait across the street and don’t discuss anything you heard.”

Colleen nodded, blinking as if she couldn’t believe what was happening and moved to the other side of Main Street, where other neighbors were starting to gather.

“Sorry,” Erica said, but continued pacing. “Maybe he had an accomplice. Perhaps you should investigate—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” interrupted Noonan. “This is a job for the police.”

The sound of a motorcycle came from down the street, becoming an ear-pounding roar, and Leo drove right up to us, the front tire stopping past the tape as if dismissing its power. I felt my chin quiver before tears broke through. I went up to him as he swung his leg off the bike. He wrapped his arms around me, both of us a little unsteady.

“Is she done?” Leo asked the chief.

Noonan paused and then said, “For now.”

“Then we’re leaving,” Leo said, pulling the crime-scene tape over my head and tugging me away.

Noonan scowled but didn’t stop us. “I’ll need a formal statement down at the station. This morning.”

Leo nodded curtly and ushered me out.

The crowd across the street was growing. Bad news spread fast.

• • • • • • • • • 

B
ack at home, Leo used my cow-painted kettle to make me tea with too much sugar and milk. “I’m not going into shock,” I told him. He’d left his motorcycle behind the shop and driven me home in my minivan.

“Sorry,” he said mildly. “That’s the way you used to like it.”

“When I was eight,” I said, but drank it anyway. The sun came through the kitchen window, highlighting my hands on the cup.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

I told him what I’d seen, leaving out the whole ladle thing.

“So you think someone poisoned Denise?” he asked.

I shuddered. “I don’t know. I can’t see how poison could get in my chocolates otherwise.” My voice trailed off. It sounded dramatic but those chocolates were a part of me. I couldn’t bear to think of them causing a tragedy. In the world of good and evil, my chocolates had always been solidly on the good side.

Kona called, and I told her everything I knew and that I’d let her know when she should come to work again. I also called Kayla. She’d been sound asleep and hadn’t heard anything about Denise.

Erica drove up. She came into my kitchen, stress causing her face to pinch. “Hey, Leo.” She helped herself to tea. “Crazy morning, right?”

“For West Riverdale,” Leo said.

Of course. He’d seen a lot worse than one dead person. He’d lost fellow soldiers, his own friends and colleagues, in situations a heck of a lot worse than this.

“So is she . . . ?” I asked Erica.

She nodded.

I took in a deep breath, letting go of the little ray of hope I’d had. “What happens now?”

“They called in the Baltimore crime-scene techs and the state police.” She sent a sympathetic glance my way. “And the health department may investigate as well.”

The health department. Words that strike fear into anyone who sells food.

The health inspector I’d worked with when the store opened was a doll who loved my truffles, but I was sure she had procedures to follow that would keep my store closed for too long. And what if they found poison in more of my chocolates? My business would be done. My reputation shattered.

I fought off worrying about my livelihood. At least I was alive. Poor Denise was dead. She’d never get to move to the beach like she dreamed of.

“I made my statement to the homicide detective,” Erica said. “He’ll probably be out here pretty soon.”

“So we just wait?”

“We can’t work today,” Erica said. “Do you have any special projects you want to work on?”

Oh no! My bridal shower chocolates were still in my minivan. Not only did I have to get them in the mail, I had to do it before anyone saw them. “I have to mail a package.” I tried to be casual. Wait. How could I know they were safe? I had to get rid of them. Shoot! I couldn’t throw them away. What if someone, or something, found them? I’d have to treat them like toxic waste or something.

Then a larger realization hit me. “Oh my God,” I said. “My four-packs of truffles and chocolate bars are all over this town. The drugstore. The diner. I have to let them know . . .” I felt heartsick, finally realizing what had probably already happened in my shop. “Oh my God. They’re destroying all of those caramels I made.” I thought about the hundreds I’d stored in the wine coolers—the Lemon Meringue Milks that I’d just perfected. The Chai Darks. I imagined strange men throwing my creations into plastic bags like cheap Halloween candy corn and felt sick to my stomach.

How much money had I just lost? How much time?

I dropped my head into my hands. “My hotel.” My biggest client, the upscale hotel in Georgetown. If I lost them, I’d be so screwed.

What was wrong with me? Denise was dead. That was so much more important than my dead business.

“I’ll call them,” Erica said. “While you run your errand.”

“No,” I said. “I need to do it.”

“You should stick close to home,” Leo said. “So far, it isn’t clear who the intended target was.”