Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 04 - Chocolate Mousse Attack (12 page)

Chapter
Twelve

“Go back inside my house!” I shoved Rickie toward the street, killed my call to Sophie and punched in 911. “Gas leak!” I shouted into the phone, then took a leap of faith in Rickie’s story and added, “Home invasion!”

While I answered their questions, I grabbed my trusty iron skillet and ran around to the side of the house where the gas meter was located. I needed a wrench but all I had at the moment was the skillet. I used the handle to whack the lever in the direction to turn off the gas to the house.
The gas company would probably be upset with me for damaging their equipment. They could get in line behind the people who thought I should put poison on my lawn and the ones who didn’t like my driving and…well, the list goes on.

When it appeared to be in the correct position, I disconnected the 911 operator, turned to go back to the front of the house and ran smack into a solid body.

Strong arms grabbed my shoulders. I went straight from panic mode to sheer terror mode. Had the mysterious man in black with a big gun and a big knife returned? I lifted my skillet to defend myself but recognized Fred before I delivered a fatal blow.

I lowered my skillet and he stepped back.
“I was going to take care of that.” He  nodded toward the battered gas valve and took one of those multi-purpose tools that men carry from his pocket. “But it looks like your method, while a bit crude, worked.”

I lifted a hand to my throat and tried to appear calm. “Is Sophie okay?”

“She’s fine.” He pointed to the far side of the street where Sophie stood in her white nightgown, arms wrapped around herself, obviously terrified. “Where’s Rickie?”

“I sent him
home even though that means I may not have a home when I get back over there.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. He’ll probably be sitting on the sofa with the television blaring, drinking a Coke.”

“I guess he kind of saved Sophie’s life tonight.”

“Yes, but only because he was somewhere he shouldn’t be.”

Sirens sounded in the distance. Pleasant Grove’s a small town. They didn’t have far to travel.

“He’ll get to tell his story to the cops,” I said, heading to the front of the house to meet the EMTs and cops. “He’ll get to be the center of attention.”

The sirens got closer.

Fred sighed. “His fifteen minutes of fame are rapidly approaching.”

I nodded. “I suppose he’s entitled. Sort of.”

“If you want to let him off the hook for the ring, I can slip it back into Sophie’s house and nobody will ever know the difference.”

“No way! He needs to learn that actions have consequences.”

A fire truck and a police car pulled up. The doors flew open and firemen and cops piled out.

I looked at Fred and heaved a deep sigh. “I guess I’d better go get him so he can tell them his story. But as soon as they leave—”

“He has to face the consequences of stealing. Agreed.”

As I crossed the street to my house, I noticed several neighbors opening windows and doors. We were going to have a middle of the night block party. Maybe I should pass out cookies.

I called Paula
from my cell phone to tell her what was going on and to suggest she stay inside. She was happy to comply with that request.

As soon as I stepped onto my front porch, I knew Fred was right again. I could hear the TV even with the door closed. I went in and found Rickie sitting on the sofa, drinking a Coke.

“Come on,” I said. “You get to tell your story and be a hero.”

He sat forward excitedly. With enough Cokes, anybody would be excited. “Am I gonna be on television?”

I doubted that a gas leak in Pleasant Grove was going to make the morning news, but if I killed Rickie in front of the cops, that probably would. “Maybe,” I said. “Come on.”

Rickie grabbed his Coke and headed out the door. Perhaps he’d be on television and we’d get a free lifetime supply of Cokes for product placement.

By the time we got back to Sophie’s house, the doors and windows were open and Fred and Sophie stood in the yard, talking to the cops. I didn’t know either of the officers, and I wasn’t going to call Trent in the middle of the night. He was homicide and so far no homicide had been committed.

Rickie got to be the star of the show. After about the third time he told his story, it became a little more coherent. I wasn’t sure if that was because he was calming down and remembering or because he had more time to polish the story and make it believable. He continued to insist that the intruder had carried a gun and a knife and had threatened him with both. I wasn’t so sure about that part, but it didn’t matter. The essential part was true. Somebody had loosened the fittings on Sophie’s new gas stove. If Rickie hadn’t told someone,
she would have died from inhaling the gas or it would have caught fire from the pilot light and her house would have exploded.

Just like her parents died.

*~*~*

Finally all the uniforms left and the neighbors went back inside. Only Fred, Sophie, Rickie and I were left.

“They’re not totally convinced a crime occurred,” Fred said. “No evidence of a break in. No prints.”

Rickie looked indignant. “I saw him!”

“I believe you. He must have worn gloves when he unscrewed the fitting. There is evidence somebody used a wrench. That’s probably what you saw, Rickie, not a gun or knife.”

“I saw a gun and a knife,” Rickie said. “He would have killed me if I hadn’t run away.”

Sophie, wrapped in one of Fred’s robes, stepped over to Rickie and hugged him, then leaned back and smiled. “Thank you for saving my life and my house.”

Rickie grinned proudly.

I poked him in the ribs. “Tell her what you were doing at her house in the middle of the night.”

He flinched but didn’t back down. “I snuck out of Aunt Lindsay’s house. I shouldn’t have done that, but I’m awful glad you didn’t die.”

Fred held out the ring. “I think this is yours.”

Sophie gasped, took the ring and slid it onto her finger. “It was my mother’s. Where did you find it?”

Crickets chirped. A dog barked in the distance. Sophie looked from Fred to me and back to Fred, waiting for someone to answer.

I gave Rickie another nudge.

He looked down at the street. “I found it,” he mumbled.

Sophie took Rickie’s grubby little face between her hands, leaned over and kissed his grubby little forehead. “I left it on the kitchen table. That man must have taken it. You have definitely been my hero tonight.”

I gritted my teeth and looked at Fred. He gave a slight shake of his head.

I didn’t feel right letting Sophie think Rickie found her ring rather than stole it, but I would give Fred the chance to deal with the boy later.
He seemed to know the secret to controlling him.

Fred draped an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “Let’s go inside and get an overnight bag so you can spend the night in my guest room.”

She nodded. “Thank you. If I walk in my sleep again, I won’t have far to go.” She smiled weakly. “And I won’t risk leaving the door unlocked so somebody can come inside.”

I grabbed Rickie’s ear, a technique I’d learned from Rick’s mother, and hauled him across the street.

I had about a half hour before it would be time to get up and go to work, and I intended to use that half hour to sleep if I had to bind and gag the kid.

*~*~*

Paula’s babysitter refused to take Rickie. She already had four children under her care and claimed that was the legal limit. My personal opinion was that she took one look at Rickie and made that up, but I didn’t argue. I took him to the shop, set him down at the desk in the small room we used as an office and booted up the old laptop we kept there for Zach to play games on when he had to stay there.

“If you sit here and don’t cause any problems, you can have unlimited Cokes and cookies. If you cause even the slightest problem, Fred’s going to come get you.” I picked up the new laptop we used for business and took it into the kitchen with me.

Paula looked up from rolling out biscuit dough. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any word from Rick.”

I set the laptop on top of the refrigerator where Rickie couldn’t reach it just in case he tried. “No. I’ve left three messages, but I don’t even know if he’s getting them. If he is, I don’t suppose he has any reason to call me. He wanted me to take care of Rickie in the first place, so he got his way.”

“You think he really left the boy at his place all alone?”

“It’s possible. It’s also possible he gave him cab fare and told him to go to my house.” I took down a bowl and began preparing my trademark chocolate chip cookies. “You seemed to get along well with Matthew at the barbecue.” If she gave me her usual response, that she was just being polite, didn’t want to get involved with anyone, blah, blah, blah, I wouldn’t have to worry that he might be a psycho.

She didn’t look up from her work, but a tiny smile appeared on her lips. That was bad.

“He’s nice,” she said. “Zach likes him.”

Very bad. I dumped flour into my mixture and stirred vigorously. “He hasn’t passed the Henry test yet.”

“We can set that up for Saturday. He’s coming over to take Zach and me out for pizza.”

I swallowed around a big lump growing in my throat. “You’re seeing him again on Saturday? That’s a big step for somebody determined to live her life as a retroactive virgin.”

She laughed softly. “For once, you may be right. Perhaps it’s time for me to put the past behind me and trust someone again. I didn’t trust you when I first met you, but now you’re my best friend and I’d trust you with my life. Well, other than in an automobile.”

Great. She trusted me and I might have introduced her to a nut job
who hung around our neighborhood in the middle of the night. Introduced her then convinced her to give him a chance to worm his way into her life and possibly break her heart. On the other hand, the only real evidence I had against him was based on Rickie’s word which was about as reliable as his father’s. If I told her my suspicions and she freaked out then I found that Rickie was lying and Matthew was a perfectly nice man, that would not be good. If I didn’t tell her and Matthew turned out to be a stalker, that would not be good either. I had to find out about Matthew one way or the other soon.

I added a few extra chocolate chips to my cookies. Okay, I added a lot of extra chips. I had a feeling I was going to need them.

*~*~*

I didn’t answer the first time Trent called my cell phone. We were in the middle of the breakfast rush. I figured
the reason he was calling had something to do with the night before, that word got around that his girlfriend had called 911 and he wanted all the details. Well, he’d just have to wait while I dispensed chocolate.

When he called a second time fifteen minutes later,
I started to get concerned. He knew my schedule and wouldn’t normally call during that time.

As soon as I got a chance, I went into th
e kitchen to return his calls. But just as I took out my phone, it rang again. Fred. He never called during that time period either. I could only assume it must be important.

“Hello?”

“I know you’re busy, so I’ll keep this short. Sophie’s going to keep your ex-husband’s son this afternoon while you and I go out to Summerdale Retirement Village to talk to the Murrays. She actually likes the kid.” He hung up.

Brilliant! Cathy and Harold Murray had owned my house before I did. They would remember who, if anybody, had lived next door when Sophie and her parents were there. Not only would we get the answer to Carolyn’s existence, I’d have an evening visiting
with two people I really liked and somebody else would have to deal with Rickie. Though I’d have to search him when I got home to make sure he didn’t walk off with anything else that belonged to Sophie like a lamp or chair or coffee table.

The thief in question chose that moment to come out of the office. “I need another Coke.” I took his glass and headed for the front to fill it from the fountain.

The restaurant phone rang. Paula answered it and turned to me as I emerged from the kitchen. “It’s Trent.”

When he called on the business phone, that
was a sign of disaster. Surely he couldn’t be all that upset about my hobnobbing with the cops in the middle of the night. Something else must be going on.

I lifted the receiver to my ear. “I was just
getting ready to—”

“Lindsay Powell?”
The voice came from behind me. I turned to see two uniformed cops standing on the other side of the counter, looking grim.

“Hang on,” I said to Trent and moved the phone receiver to my neck. “I’m Lindsay Powell. Can I help you?”

“We’re here for the minor child Rickie Ganyon.”

Chapter
Thirteen

I gulped. Had they found out about the ring? Or something worse? What had he done now? “Okay,” I squeaked.

“Is he here?” the cop asked.

“Can you hold on just a minute?” I put the phone back to my ear. “What’s going on?” I asked Trent. “Why are the cops looking for Rickie?”

“There’s an Amber Alert out for him,” he said.

“What? Who reported him? Is Rick back in town? His mother?”

“Turns out Rick didn’t leave him alone in his house. He left him with neighbors. When they got up Saturday morning and found him gone, they immediately reported him missing.
As soon as I got in this morning and heard about it, I told them you had the boy. I’ve been trying to get hold of you to tell you to bring him in.”

“Ma’am,” the cop said, rudely interrupting my conversation with Trent, “is the minor child Rickie Ganyon on these premises?”

“Yes.”

“Would you take us to him?”

“Yes, I can do that. Trent, I have to go now.” I hung up the phone and looked around the room. There were only a few customers left in the restaurant, but we certainly had everybody’s attention. I usually like attention but not that kind.

I
led the rude cops to the back.

Rickie looked up from his video game when we entered the office. His big eyes got even
bigger at the sight of the uniform. He stood, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for a way out or a place to hide. It was a small room, and the only way out was the door where the two cops and I stood.

“Are you Rickie Ganyon?”

He lifted his small, pointed chin and stared back fiercely. “Who wants to know?” I had to give him credit for guts.

The officer knelt in front of him, getting down to his level, and smiled. “The Fergusons have been worried about you, Rickie. They’d like for you to
return to their house.”

Rickie backed away. “I won’t!”

The officer frowned. “Why not?”

“I don’t like them people! They—” He hesitated, looking directly and intently into the man’s eyes. I knew that look and that hesitation. I’d seen his father do it often enough. He was taking time to make up a lie. “They were mean to me.”

“What did they do to you that was mean? Did they hurt you?”

Rickie held out his thin arms which were covered in scratches and puckered up his face as if he was about to cry. “They did this to me.”

“Oh, stop it,” I snapped. “You got those scratches last night when you were climbing around in that tree!” 

“Is that true, Rickie? Did you get those scratches last night instead of from the Fergusons?”

“I’m not going back! They don’t like me. They beat me and they don’t feed me.”

The officer rose. “Why don’t we all go down to the station and sort this out?”

Rickie folded his arms obdurately. “No.”

I folded my arms the same way. “You’ll have to get out the cuffs, officer.”

Rickie looked interested. “You got handcuffs?”

“I’ve got handcuffs and a radio in the car and—”

“And Cokes,” I said. “He’ll give you a Coke if you go to the station with him.”

Rickie shrugged and let the officer guide him out the door. “Am I being arrested?”

“No,” the cop said.

“Yes,” I said.

Rickie looked kind of pleased at that prospect.

I watched him
heading toward the door with the officer. Did I feel a tiny bit of regret that our visit was over? To be completely honest, I felt an enormous sense of relief. I suppose it’s one thing if you give birth to a child and have him around from the beginning, but having a nine year old demon child suddenly thrust on me was more of a challenge than I wanted.

“You too, ma’am,” the second cop said, effectively ending my good feelings.

“Me?” I pointed to myself. “You want me to go to the station with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I really wished they’d quit with the
ma’am
business. Made me feel ninety years old. “Why do you need me to come with you? I trust you with the kid.”

“You were in possession of a minor child who disappeared under unknown circumstances. We need you to come down and make a statement.”

“
Unknown circumstances?
Surely you don’t think I kidnapped him! Nobody in their right mind would kidnap that boy! He came to my house and told me his father left him alone and he had nowhere to go! Ask him! He’ll tell you.” Actually I had no idea what Rickie would tell them.

“Why didn’t you call social services?”

“Because social services sucks.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This wasn’t going very well. I really didn’t want to be hauled in on kidnapping charges. “Look, it’s not like the boy’s a stranger. He’s my ex-husband’s son.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I swallowed hard. “Are you going to arrest me for taking the kid in?”

“We just need you to come down
and make a statement.”

I could feel the steel bars closing around me. Who’d take care of Henry? How would Trent feel having a jailbird for a girlfriend? “He’s my stepson, for crying out loud!”

Oh, God! Had I really said that? Some words should never be uttered even in the interest of staying out of jail. I shouldn’t be talking without a lawyer. I was glad no one else was around to hear that insane statement.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I sighed. “Let me get my purse. Can we go out the back door so the customers won’t think I’m being arrested?”

“No, ma’am. Our car’s parked out front.”

Great. I had to do a perp walk through my own restaurant. Maybe I could serve Perp Walk Brownies tomorrow. There’s nothing like a good crime to make people hungry and rev up sales.

*~*~*

I got out of jail. Trent vouched for me, swore I made every effort to find out where Rickie belonged and that the kid really did tell me he’d been abandoned at his father’s house. They released me with my record if not my dignity intact in time to get back and help Paula clean up after closing.

I had no idea what Rickie told them, and I really didn’t care. I was just relieved he was no longer my problem. My world could get back to normal. Make chocolate, serve chocolate, eat chocola
te, feed Henry.

As soon as I got home and fed Henry, Fred and I took his vintage Mercedes across town to Summerdale Retirement Village where Cathy and Harold Murray, the former owners of my house, lived.

Since first meeting the older couple a year ago we’d stayed in touch and become friends. They popped into Death by Chocolate regularly, but we didn’t get to spend a lot of time together because the Murrays kept a busy schedule…dances, dinners, card games, board games, movies, golf, bicycling and walking. They were fun people. I looked forward to seeing them again.

Cathy greeted us at the door with a wide smile. “Come in. Oh, you brought more of those wonderful cookies!”

Harold came up behind his wife, hair the same shade of white as hers, blue eyes twinkling behind thick glasses. “Come in, come in. Cathy even cleaned house because you were coming.”

Cathy punched him playfully. “Stop that!”

We entered the sunny, cheerful apartment that reflected the personality of its inhabitants.

“I’ll be right back with something to drink,” Cathy said, heading toward the kitchen.

Fred and I sat on the muted rose sofa and Harold sank into a chair.

“Have you been playing golf in this heat?” I asked.

“I get up early every morning before it gets hot.”

“I’ve seen him play when the temperature was over a hundred,” Cathy called from the kitchen. “He’s obsessed.”

Harold grinned. “It’s true. I’m making up for all those years when I had to spend my days in an office instead of on a golf course.”

Cathy returned with a large tray holding three cups of coffee, one Coke and a plate heaped with the cookies I’d brought.

“Now,” she said, setting the tray on the coffee table and taking a seat in the other chair, “tell me what’s been going on. Are you still dating that nice policeman?”

“I am, and now that Rick’s almost out of the picture, we’re having a lot more fun.”

Cathy’s forehead beneath her white curls wrinkled with a frown. “
Almost
? Your divorce was final, wasn’t it?”

I sighed, took a long drink of my Coke and launched into an abbreviated story of how I had come to babysit my ex-husband’s son for two days. Fred sipped his coffee and waited patiently while I finished with the trivia. Actually, while he appeared to be waiting patiently, I could feel the tension vibrating from him. He’s not big on chit-chat. 

“If that ever happens again, you just bring the boy over here and let Harold and me babysit,” Cathy offered.

“I would never do that to you. Rickie is a
demon child.” Of course, I was talking to the couple who continued to believe their grandson George would one day come home from prison, go to college and become a model citizen.

Cathy gave a tinkling laugh. “All kids seem like that from time to time
. They just need love and guidance.”

I couldn’t deny that Rickie had received very little of either of those things. Would he have been a different child if he’d been raised by someone like the Murrays?

We talked about the dances and dinners the Murrays had gone to, how much they’d won the last time they went to the casino, new desserts I’d created at Death by Chocolate, and how Paula and Zach were doing. I didn’t tell them about the possibility of Paula having a man in her life. The Murrays would love to hear that. They wanted everybody to be as happy as they were. But Paula’s love life could wait until I was certain how it was going to turn out. 

At a lull in the conversation Cathy folded her hands in her lap and exchanged a smile with her husband. “We have some exciting news.”

My lips automatically moved upward to form a smile, expecting to hear they were going on a cruise or buying a new car or getting a dog.

“George just had a parole hearing, and it looks like he may get to come home.”

George, their drug-dealing grandson whose activities had almost got me killed a year ago. My smile froze in place.

“The new attorney we hired,” Harold said
. “Guy’s really good. He got some evidence overturned and showed the parole board that George is trying to turn his life around.”

“When he gets home, he’s going to get his GED and go to college.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Does he have any idea what he wants to be?” Though he was pre-qualified to be a pharmacist, he’d probably have a little trouble getting licensed in that field.

Cathy shrugged and reached for another cookie. “He’ll figure it out after he takes a few classes.”

“We know it won’t be easy,” Harold said, “but we’ll do all we can to help him. George has had some problems, but the boy has a good heart.”

I thought of the angry man Fred and I had visited in prison, of the darkness that lived in the back of his eyes. But he had sounded sincere when he said he loved his grandparents. Anything was possible. If the Murrays were able to rehabilitate George, maybe even Rickie could become a
n upstanding citizen.

“When he comes home, we’re going to have a party for him, and we’d love for you all to come.”

It took a couple of heartbeats for me to catch my breath and respond. “Of course we’ll be there.” 

Fred was silent.
I elbowed him.

“Yes,” he said. “We’ll be there.”

“I’ll bake a chocolate cake for him,” I promised. That would be the easy part of that event.

Cathy beamed. Harold smiled. I got the feeling he wasn’t quite as certain as his wife that George was going to become the perfect grandson.

Then we got to the subject of our new neighbor.

“Do you remember Sophie Fl
eming?” Fred asked. “She lived across the street about twenty-five years ago.”

Cathy poured more coffee for Fred. She must make really good coffee for him to go beyond the polite first cup. “Of course we remember the Flemings,” she said. “Sophie was the cutest little thing with those big brown eyes and all that dark, curly hair. She was a live wire. Never met a stranger. We babysat her a couple of times, but the Flemings didn’t go out often. They were young and struggling.
What happened to them after they moved to Nebraska was so sad.”

Cathy’s description of Sophie as a bubbly little girl presented a contrast with the adult Sophie. Of course we all grow up and change, but I suspected Sophie’s early losses had a lot to do with her change. “Did you know the family was planning to move?” I asked.

Cathy shook her head. “No, it was all very strange. He had a decent job, possibility of moving up in the company. They loved the house and had some kind of arrangement where they could buy it for no down payment if they did enough improvements. They seemed perfectly happy and settled one day. Then the next, they were gone.”