Sweet Taffy and Murder: Sweet Taffy Cozy Mysteries Book #1 (4 page)

Ethan had managed to reach Bill, the utilities guy, who said he’d stop by the Harken house sometime in the late afternoon or early evening.

Ethan then said he had to get back to work and check on some park trails. He gave Taffy his number and told her to call if Bill didn’t show up, and then he dropped her back at Janet’s house.

Reluctantly, Taffy sidled up the front steps. She picked at the peeling paint of the porch railing as Ethan’s truck grumbled down the driveway. She sighed loudly, just to make a noise in the country silence, until a nearby rustling in the bushes made her tense up. Was that the cat? Or the coyote Ethan thought might have eaten the cat? Taffy slipped into the safety of the house and shut the door.

Standing in the foyer, she couldn’t get over the fact that someone had died here. It sent shivers down her spine every time she thought about it.

Taffy wandered from room to room examining the knickknack shelves, photos and prints on the walls, the china cabinet, and a few pieces of old furniture. There were a few valuable items. If Janet had been planning to move to Arizona, she certainly hadn’t gotten around to packing much.

She continued to explore the main floor rooms. With some careful strategy, she managed to avoid crossing the foyer where Janet’s body had been discovered. She stood in the arched threshold connecting the foyer and the living room and looked toward the closet. Ethan had done a great job cleaning up the body outline, but Taffy could still see it in her mind’s eye, and she couldn’t help but imagine the older woman lying in a lifeless heap in front of her hall closet. What a tragic demise. You open your hall closet to get your coat, and
thunk,
your own bowling ball falls on your head and kills you? Taffy shivered.

She wandered back into the living room, which adjoined the dining room. A swinging door led to the large kitchen that took up the back of the house. By going through the kitchen, she could move through the house in a u-shape and avoid the foyer almost completely. Taffy noticed a door in one corner of the kitchen that must lead to a basement. Somewhere in the house there must be access to the attic. She could see that the angled rooftops didn’t match up with the rooms on the second floor.

Off the foyer and adjacent to the living room was a kind of parlor that housed a baby grand piano, a wall of bookshelves, a settee, and some chairs.

Taffy perused the parlor shelves. In addition to old books, mostly Readers Digest editions, Taffy found a collection of gardening magazines going back twenty years and a large jar full of marbles. She picked out a marble, tossed it in the air, and caught it in her palm. She did it a few more times until she missed the catch and the marble fell to the floor. It rolled across the room…and kept rolling. When Taffy eventually retrieved it from under a chair, she set it on another part of the floor, and it rolled away again. It was such an old house, the floor wasn’t level anymore, and it was dented or scratched in many places. She dropped the marble back in the jar and opened a horizontal cupboard set at hip height.

The door flipped down to make a small desk. Inside were cubbyholes for papers and bills and an old mug full of pens, pencils, and a gold-filigreed letter opener that looked identical to Mr. Davenport’s. She picked it up, felt its sharp edge, and then stuck it back in the mug.

Taffy sat on the piano bench and plunked out a few notes. She’d taken lessons as a kid, at her father’s insistence, but had forgotten most of what she’d learned. She adjusted the bench to get a bit closer. The floor creaked and the bench seat nearly bit her finger. It was one of the lidded kinds that could store music sheets, and it lifted and snapped shut as Taffy repositioned it. She opened the lid of the bench seat. In a messy jumble she found sheet music, a few recipe cards, letters, receipts, a composition notebook—for writing, not music—a couple of cancelled bank checks, and several unopened letters.

The composition book intrigued her. On the title page she saw the words: The Magpie
Baking
Bowling Club. The word Bowling was written over a crossed out “Baking.” Inside, she found a list of letters, in pairs like initials, and on a second page a list of numbers. None of it made sense to Taffy.

She looked at the unopened letters. Technically, it was illegal to open someone else’s mail. But what if the person was dead? She picked at a corner of one envelope. Then she remembered the letter opener. She sliced neatly into one of the unopened letters. It was addressed to Janet from someone named Tony.

Staring at Janet’s loose swoopy writing reminded Taffy of her grandmother’s notes and manila envelopes, which quickly put Taffy in a bad mood. She closed the lid of the bench and walked away from the piano.

Standing at the threshold between the parlor and the foyer, she assessed her situation:
banished New York socialite bored stiff in dead woman’s house while waiting for a moody utilities technician to appear
.

What if he didn’t show up? Taffy didn’t want to stay in the house alone after dark. She’d have to call up Ethan, ask him if she could crash on his couch. She wished she wasn’t such a scaredy cat. Cats… Where was Midnight?

Would he come if she called? Probably not. But he might if she opened a can of food and banged it with a fork. She took the long way around to the kitchen and searched the cupboards. On the shelves amid the soup cans she found a tin of kitty chow. She pawed through drawers for a can opener. In one drawer she found strange things like heavy gauge wire, cutters, and some kind of putty mixed in with other utility items such as ceramic glue, matches, X-Acto blades, and screwdrivers. In another drawer she found semi-familiar items such as small strainers, a cheese grater, potato peeler, and finally, a can opener.

She tipped the cat food onto a chipped plate and carried it toward the front door.

The sun had fallen behind the trees. Slanted orange stripes of light reached through the western windows and faded quickly. Soon it would be full dark. She hadn’t noticed any candles or a flashlight in the drawers she’d searched. Maybe she should go back to Ethan’s. But first feed the cat, for Ethan’s sake.

She headed down the hall leading from the kitchen to the foyer. She walked right by the spot where Janet Harken had died. Her breathing got shallow, and her steps picked up speed until she was at the front door. She let out a sigh of relief, and then opening the door to call out for Midnight, she choked on that relief and failed to stifle a scream.

The plate of cat food crashed to the floor.

A dour, long-faced man wearing a cap that shadowed narrow, dark eyes stood on the threshold. Embroidered onto his dark-blue work shirt was the name ‘Bill.’ Taffy silenced her scream.

“You scared the Beetlejuice outta me,” snapped Taffy.

He looked past her into the house. His eyes rested on the floor in front of the closet.

“McCoy called me.” His voice was rough, reluctant. He reached down and picked up a toolbox Taffy hadn’t noticed was there. One corner was splattered with cat food.

“Sorry about the wreckage,” said Taffy. She’d have to pick up the shards and mop up the mess.

“You want power, I’ll have to get to the breaker box inside.”

Taffy stepped aside to let him pass. He was tall, lean, and wiry with a long jaw and shifting eyes.

He gave the floor around the closet a wide berth on his way to the kitchen, just as Taffy had done. She left the cat-food mess where it lay and followed him. In the kitchen, he paused to look at the long farm table and tiled counters. For a moment he seemed frozen.

“You were the one who found her, weren’t you?” Though her words were gentle, he startled where he stood and turned with surprise, as if he’d forgotten she was there. After seeming to remember, he gazed around the kitchen again.

“I had many much-needed meals and fortifying cups of coffee in this kitchen.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t make you any coffee without power.”

Actually, Taffy had no clue how to make coffee with or without power.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Bill gruffly. “I don’t need anything.” He reached for a long-handled flashlight at his hip and then opened the door in the kitchen that Taffy had guessed led to the basement.

“Would you mind letting me know if you see any trunks or antiques while you’re down there?” said Taffy. He didn’t answer as he followed his beam of light and descended into darkness.

He was odd, and slightly creepy. Taffy wished Ethan was here. She didn’t like being in the house alone with Bill.

She grabbed a bucket, mop, broom, and dustpan and headed back to the front of the house to clean up the cat-food mess. She’d left the door open, and as she approached, she noticed a dark mass crouched on the threshold.

“Midnight?” The cat looked up, licking his chops. He stared at her with reflecting amber eyes. The collar at his neck clinked. She crept forward slowly, not wanting to scare him. He stayed where he was, watching her for a moment, before going back to licking up the splattered food. Taffy was almost close enough to pet him now. Kneeling, she reached out to touch his silky coat. Just before her fingertips made contact, Midnight’s fur went straight up and he turned and bolted. Taffy heard the floor creak and turned to see Bill looming over her.

“You scared me again!” She scrambled to her feet. “The cat, too!”

“Got to adjust the wiring on the outside now.” He stepped around her. “Almost done.”

By the time Taffy had gathered up the broken shards, Bill was back on the front steps.

“Try a switch now,” he said before spitting into the bushes. A dark drop trickled down his chin. He rubbed it away. Was he chewing tobacco? Gross.

Taffy reached for the entry switch. The foyer lit up with warm light and pushed the oncoming night back toward the trees.

She smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

Bill shrugged off her thanks and glanced through the doorway again. Then with a troubled look on his face, he cast his eyes on his boots. Taffy sensed he wanted to talk.

“What was it like? When you found her?”

He lifted his ball cap, shoved his fingers through his matted hair, and replaced the cap.

“One of the worst days of my life.”

“You knew her well?”

“I think better than anyone else in this town.”

“Do you think she was killed by her bowling ball?”

He stared at Taffy for a long, cold second.

He shrugged. “That’s what the police said.”

“What do
you
think happened?”

He shrugged. “I gotta go now. I’ll send the invoice by mail.”

He turned and stepped away from the pool of light on the stairs.

Taffy watched Bill’s truck pull away, and then after he was gone, she stood a bit longer, waiting to see if Midnight would reappear.

She called across the dark lawn. “Kitty, kitty, kitty.” But the distant hooting of an owl was the only response.

Midnight was clearly on the prowl for the night. Taffy shut the front door and proceeded to turn on all the light switches in the house (minus the attic and basement).

She plugged her phone into the newly coursing electricity. While her phone charged, she started a bath in the claw-foot tub. Rifling around for bubble bath, she found some rose-scented bath salts. She dumped those in the water and then felt the temperature. Stone cold! She turned off the taps and dialed Ethan’s number.

“The hot water tank has to heat up first,” he explained to her.

“What is that and where, and how darn long is
that
going to take?”

Ethan chuckled. “It’s probably in the basement, and its job is to heat your hot water. I’m guessing it will take an hour or two.”

Taffy refrained from swearing into the phone.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” said Ethan.

“At the moment, I’m too mad to be scared.”

He chuckled again, and the sound started to make Taffy’s frustration melt a little.

“Did Midnight ever show up?” he asked.

“For a little while. Bill scared him off.”

“He’ll be back.”

“Bill, or the cat?”

“Probably both, but I’m guessing not at the same time.”

“Bill was acting kind of strange. Do you think he might have had something to do with —”

“If you’re going to say ‘Janet’s death,’ forget it. Bill and Janet were very close. He’d never have hurt her.”

“Yeah but don’t most murders take place between people who are ‘close’?”

Ethan sighed. “It was an accident, Taffy. Don’t you have to work in the morning?”

“Yeah.” She’d almost forgotten.

“Did you eat any dinner?”

“Some.” She wasn’t about to tell him that she’d only eaten a tin of cold soup because she couldn’t figure out how to turn on the stove.

She didn’t want to hang up yet, but she didn’t have anything else to say. She chewed at her thumbnail and grimaced when she tasted cat food.

Ethan said, “Call me if you need anything else.”

Did he have any idea that she’d be calling him twenty-four, seven if she really took him up on that offer? Taffy didn’t have enough minutes in her plan. That thought made her realize that, by some miracle, Nana hadn’t cut off her phone yet.

After Ethan said good night, she tried calling New York again, but no one answered her call. Not even after twenty rings.

By morning, hot water cascaded in generous rivulets over Taffy’s tangled, not-washed-for-three-days hair.

Overnight she had convinced herself that her new job might actually be better than she imagined. A managerial position maybe. Or spokesmodel. She was optimistic as she blow-dried, flat-ironed, and made herself gorgeous.

She typed the Sweet Abandon Candy Factory address into her rented GPS and then cruised along the coastline road and up into the hills above town.

The candy factory sat on a prime piece of land on a bluff overlooking the ocean. From here she could look down on the town, the beach, and the pier out in front of the Castle Rock Golf and Country Club. A little ways out in the water was the ragged rock she’d seen the day before.

Turning away from the ocean, the factory came into view. Painted in candy hues of pink, yellow, and green, it somehow managed to blend into the surroundings. Sort of.

The forested property adjacent to the factory looked wild and untamed. Taffy didn’t manage to read the sign before turning up the factory driveway.

She parked in the lot marked ‘Staff’ and then headed up the wide walkway until she arrived at the candy-striped double doors of the factory entrance.

Inside, the main entrance was dominated by a long counter the color and texture of red licorice. Behind the seemingly sticky counter sat a receptionist whose hair resembled a bleached bouffant helmet.

Taffy laid her papers on the glossy red counter.

“I’m starting work today.”

“Oh? I didn’t realize we were hiring right now.” The blonde helmet-hair tipped to one side. “What’s your name, Sweetie?”

“Taffy Belair.”

The woman grinned. "
Taffy
?”

"It really is my name."

“Oh, yes. I see it here now. I’m just surprised. I was told we’re downsizing, with this crappy economy and the change in ownership and all. I guess you’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Not exactly how I see it,” Taffy mumbled.

“Well, welcome, Miss Belair. I'm Aubin Terkle, the receptionist."

Taffy had gathered as much, given her position behind the counter and the name tag attached to her protruding bosom.

"Miss Terkle—"

“
Mrs.,”
she corrected, waggling her ring finger under Taffy's nose. "Only four months so far, but I still feel like a bride." She sighed and stared at her pale-pink diamond. "But you can call me Aubin."

"
Aubin
. Any idea when the paychecks are cut?"

"Let me see where you're assigned. Hmmm. It says here you're to start in chocolate dip. That's on the third floor." She tapped a few more keys. "It's the base rate, I'm afraid. Though there's a lot of spillage in chocolate dip, so you'll never go hungry." She winked. "Pay is every two weeks, and you just missed a payday, sorry."

"Too bad I can't cover the bills with chocolate."

"Ain't that the truth! We'd all be millionaires here." She giggled, and then lowered her voice. "I'll let you in on a secret. The candy-apple coaters make the most here. The job requires a particular technique, taking months to learn, and working with all that fresh fruit requires a certain delicacy, so put your name forward in that department if you're feeling ambitious." She nodded sagely.

"Thanks for the tip."

"My pleasure, Hon." Aubin dug around in the file with Taffy’s information and pulled out a magnetic name tag. “Ah, here's yours. All the elves go by first names only."

"Elves?"

"Our associates are called sugar elves."

Taffy thought she might vomit from the sugarcoated sweetness of it all, but she smiled tightly and took the name tag. Its edge was trimmed with fake sprinkles.

"Where's the chocolate thingy ma-doodle?"

"Third floor, Hon. You'll do fine. Here, take a lolly for luck." She hoisted a silver bowl full of suckers onto the counter. "I only hand those out to the sweetest elves.”

Taffy politely retrieved a lollipop, but she had a feeling she'd need a lot more than a luck sucker to get through this day.

"Don't forget this." Aubin handed over a plastic-wrapped, folded pink-and-white-striped jacket. “You're so petite. This is the smallest we've got."

Taffy tucked it under her arm.

“Oh, and this,” Aubin added, handing her a small, clear pouch with something hay-colored inside. “It’s a hairnet. All the elves wear them.”

Taffy proceeded through a brown padded door that resembled a bar of chocolate.

She didn’t have a clue how she was going to survive two days here, let alone two weeks.

* * *

By the end of the day, Taffy was covered in chocolate. The manager, Anthony Herbert, was not impressed. He was tall, with a receding hairline partially covered by a comb-over, and he wore thick dark-framed glasses. After assessing the one hundred chocolate-covered cherries that were
mostly
covered, he cast a critical gaze on Taffy.

“Do you have
any
experience making candy?”

She shook her head.

He glanced at his clipboard. “Do you have any work experience
at all
? Anything that makes you remotely qualified for this job?”

“I’ve been in all of the best chocolate shops in Manhattan. That should count for something.”

“
Been in
?” He narrowed his small eyes at her. “How did such a princess get this job?” he muttered, shaking his head and marking something on his clipboard.

She was tempted to tell him to go dip his comb-over in toffee pudding, but she had to make it through at least one pay period if she wanted to buy a plane ticket home. "I promise I'll do better. I’m a fast learner.” She was supposed to say that, wasn’t she? Even if it wasn’t true?

"If you don't, you won't last the week. Tomorrow I’m moving you to wafer layering. Chocolate dip is too complex for you.” He noted something else on his clipboard and then moved on to check the other elves' progress.

Disheartened, Taffy left the chocolate level and headed for the staff room on floor 3. A pudgy twenty-something blonde wearing a hairnet followed her.

"Don't you worry. Herbie’s hard on all the newbies. My name's Ellie.” She held out her soft, doughy hand. Taffy stared at her smiling mouthful of tiny white teeth.

"I'm Taffy."

"No way! You
belong
here. You've found the
perfect
job!”

If this was a perfect anything, it was a perfect hell.

Ellie chattered on. “I thought of changing my name to Candy when I first got this job. Wouldn’t that have been just been so cute?” Ellie held the door open to the staff room. Taffy slipped out of her chocolate-stained jacket and yanked the hairnet from her head.

"Where do I put this?"

"Oh, we all have to do our laundry. I'm pretty neat so I only have to wash mine once a week."

Taffy had never done laundry in her life. She didn't even know how.

She turned her jacket inside out and rolled it up so she wouldn't get chocolate on her other clothes. Ellie handed her a tissue from her purse. "You have chocolate on your chin."

"Thanks," said Taffy, rubbing her chin with the tissue, which smelled faintly of roses.

"And your cheek," said Ellie, pointing. "And nose, and forehead. Yeah, pretty much all over."

Taffy found a mirror in the bathroom. She was smudged from wrist to temple. She turned on the warm water and worked at washing it off. The greasy chocolate smeared all over. Taffy could feel it clogging her pores. She dried her face with paper towels and muttered, “I bet there’s no place for a decent facial around here.”

Ellie said, “There’s a
fancy-shmancy
spa at the Castle Rock Resort. Gillian from accounting goes there sometimes.”

It would be a while before Taffy could afford that.

Ellie proceeded to inform her that Gillian was having a fling with ‘the Herbster,’ only it was very hush-hush because dating between staff was against the rules, even though Herbert was the one who made the rules, and Ellie made Taffy promise not to tell anyone because if Herbie found out he’d demote her to jujubes.

"Don't worry," Taffy assured her. “Doesn’t matter to me who's dating whom. I don't plan to be here long enough to keep up with the local gossip."

Ellie looked crestfallen. "What do you mean? I thought we'd be friends."

Were those tears building in Ellie's big brown eyes? She seemed to be a girl who really wore her heart on her sleeve.

"Sure, sure, we can be friends," said Taffy, assuring her again, which made the tears disappear and an excited smile warm her cheeks. Ellie slid her arm through Taffy's as they headed down the hall toward the main doors.

"Good! Then I'm inviting you to my house for a party next weekend."

That was the last thing Taffy wanted, but she nodded politely and said, “Thanks, I’ll try to make it.”

“You
have
to. I’ll introduce you to
everyone
.”

Ellie's clutch on Taffy’s arm was annoyingly tight, and the girl wasn’t all that bright, but Taffy wasn’t exactly on a roll making friends here either. Apart from Ethan.

“Can I bring someone to the party?”

“A date? As long as it’s not someone from work. Nudge, nudge, wink wink.”

They turned down a hall. Up ahead on the wall Taffy noticed a framed picture with fresh flowers tucked around it. As she got closer, she saw it was a portrait of an older woman in a candy-making jacket like the ones Ellie and Taffy had been wearing.

“Who’s that?”

Ellie sighed and shook her head. “Poor Janet Harken.”

“That’s her?” Taffy peered closer. "Did you know her?”

Ellie tossed her head back and laughed. “Everyone knew Janet. She was so amazing. She used to give me piano lessons. And even though she had officially retired, she came to the candy factory every week, like clockwork.”

“She worked here?”

Ellie looked at her as if she had just flown in from Mars.

"Silly! She owned half the factory. Everyone knows that."

Not everyone. Not Taffy.

Ellie tucked her arm tighter to Taffy’s and explained that Mr. Herbert had been promoted after Janet retired and it was rumored that he’d been romantically involved with her before Gillian. He hardly seemed the Don Juan type.

In the parking lot, a fancy white Mercedes coupe purred past. A woman with starlet sunglasses and several sparkling rings was behind the wheel. As the coupe turned out of the lot, Taffy read the vanity plate: GILLS.

Ellie said, “That’s Gillian.”

“How does an accountant at a candy factory make enough money to wear Gucci glasses and drive a Merc?”

Ellie shrugged. “She’s good at her job?”

Taffy slid her key into her Aveo while Ellie unlocked an older model Toyota Camry.

Ellie waved to her. “See you tomorrow.”

* * *

Pulling away from the factory, Taffy could now make out the sign in front of the forested lot across the road: ‘Castle Rock Bird Sanctuary.’ An application for rezoning was pasted across the bottom of the sign. Taffy merged onto the stretch of road that hugged the coastline.

Apart from sucking at chocolate dip, earning the stink-eye from Mr. Herbert, and attracting the sticky sweet Ellie, working for a day hadn’t been quite as hellish as she’d thought. In fact, she felt a little proud of herself. She would have liked to share her news with her friends back home, except they would have laughed at her. She wondered what her dad would say, if she even knew where to find him. Her Nana would smile smugly and be proud of herself for setting Taffy up like that. And then it hit her. The person she really wanted to tell was her mom. A lump started growing in her throat. She tried to swallow it away, but it kept coming back.

She knew what she had to do. The only solution was to drive.

She pressed on the gas and let the Aveo fly. It rattled and strained to reach a higher speed, but its smallness made it easy to maneuver. She took the curves a little too fast, but maintained control. She loved the rush of adrenaline that came with speed. She turned on the radio. She didn't recognize the song, but it had a good beat. She cranked it louder. Soon it devolved into a techno mash-up, and a blaring siren sound was ruining the chorus. When she changed the station the siren only got louder. She looked in the rearview and saw red and blue lights. She banged her palm against the steering wheel before she slowed down and pulled off to the side.

She hoped it would be a different cop, not the woman from the other day. What was her name? Salinas. Maria Salinas. Why did that name seem familiar?

Taffy pulled out the car registration from the glove box and dug around in her purse for her driver’s license.

She glanced in her side mirror. Darn it. She recognized that feminine swagger.

"Well, well, well. We meet again."

"Was I really going that fast?" Taffy said, handing over her papers and license.

"How fast do you think you were going?"

"Just a good first day of work kind of speed. Nothing too dangerous."

"I clocked you at one-ten. It couldn't have been that good of a day. Not at the candy factory."

Did everyone know everyone's business in this town?

"I didn't get fired. That made it a good day."

Officer Salinas gave her a funny look. She tucked a short curl behind her hair, and for some reason the gesture seemed familiar to Taffy, but she didn't know why. None of her friends had curly hair, or if they did they got the keratin treatment that smoothed out all the curls.

"I'll be right back.” Salinas headed back toward her car.

"Do you think you could just give me a warning this time?" Taffy called out.

Officer Salinas just shook her head. What had Taffy done to piss her off? She really did have a stick up her tush.

For the rest of the drive home, Taffy stuck to the speed limit. The cop car tailed her the whole way. Taffy was fuming. When she finally pulled onto the road that led to her place, the cop car carried on down the highway.

She stomped up her front steps, still fuming from the encounter. She needed to cool off.

She headed straight for the fridge, where she’d seen a few cans of iced tea, and nearly slipped in a puddle of water on the kitchen floor.