The Chocolate Moose Motive: A Chocoholic Mystery (5 page)

Aunt Nettie spoke. “Yes, Connie?”

“Nettie, you and Lee aren’t really going to hire that awful Sissy Smith, are you?”

“Do you know some reason we shouldn’t?”

“Well.” Connie frowned harder. “Everyone knows she killed her husband.”

Before I could lace into her, Aunt Nettie spoke. “Oh! If that’s true, you’d better tell the sheriff.”

“Wha-what?”

“Yes, Sheriff Ramsey has been very upset because that case
is on his unsolved list. Or that was what Hogan told me. If you have new evidence, the sheriff will want to hear it.”

“I don’t have any evidence!”

“Then what makes you think she killed her husband?”

Connie frowned. “Well, my cousin Jenny talked to a lady who saw her car go back out to that weird, hippie place where they lived—right at the time when Buzz Smith was killed.”

“How did Jenny know when he was killed?”

“Well, everyone knows…” Connie paused. “It wasn’t Jenny who knew. It was this lady she knows. And Jenny didn’t tell me who it was.”

“So it was the lady Jenny knows who saw the car.”

“I’m not sure she
saw
the car. Maybe she knows somebody who saw it.”

“Why don’t you talk to Jenny and see if you can track down this unknown woman who claims she saw the car. Because I’m sure either the sheriff or the state police would be glad to hear about that. Or, once you get the facts, you could talk to Hogan. He’s not directly concerned with the investigation into the death of Buzz Smith, but he’s discussed the case with the sheriff, and I’m sure he’d help you get the new evidence to the right person.”

Connie had the sense to look a little embarrassed. “I guess Chief Jones knows you’ve hired Sissy Smith.”

Aunt Nettie nodded and smiled her sweetest smile. “He knows we were thinking about it. He said she ought to be a good employee.”

“Oh.” Connie swallowed. “Well, I’ll get back to work.” She left.

Aunt Nettie and I looked at each other. Neither of us spoke for a full minute. Then Aunt Nettie stood up. “I guess I’d
better get back to work, too. As for Sissy, well…we may be in for an interesting time.”

“I hope Sissy has a smart-aleck remark to handle this situation.”

I went back to work, too, but if I’d been nervous about Sissy before, now I was ready to pull my hair, chew my nails, and fidget all over. I still believed Aunt Nettie and I were right to give Sissy a chance, but I dreaded Monday, Sissy’s first day on the job.

But when Monday came, Sissy took her place at TenHuis Chocolade with no commotion. The hairnet ladies buzzed, of course, but they kept working, and Sissy didn’t even complain about the lousy office we gave her.

TenHuis was originally set up—thirty-five years ago—as a two-person business. Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil had spent a year in the Netherlands, doing an apprenticeship to learn the chocolate business. They returned to their hometown, Warner Pier, and opened a small shop. At first, both made chocolate and both waited on any customers who came in. Uncle Phil made a few sales calls on restaurants and specialty shops, but the business grew simply because they made wonderful bonbons and truffles and Warner Pier residents and visitors began to buy them. Then specialty shops and restaurants began to buy them. Out-of-town people began to call, write, and e-mail to order them. Now we sell more chocolate out of town than we do in Warner Pier. We’re well acquainted with the FedEx and UPS drivers.

After they’d been in business a year or so, Aunt Nettie and Uncle Phil needed to hire more help, and eventually the business operation shook out with Aunt Nettie managing the workshop and overseeing the twenty-five or so ladies who
make the chocolates, and Uncle Phil handling the business and shipping ends and supervising the small retail shop.

After Uncle Phil died, Aunt Nettie hired me to run the business side. But through all this, the shop had remained at the same address. Things changed, of course. The building they were in went on the market, so they bought it. The store next door closed, so they expanded into that space. As the mail-order business grew, they added a shipping room at the back. But the workshop and retail store remained small, and my office was an eight-by-eight glass cubicle overlooking the retail area on one side and the workshop on another.

Until Sissy started work, that office housed the whole business department. I definitely couldn’t share it with another person; it would barely hold my desk. So we had adapted a small storage room for Sissy. She and I had to walk through a corner of the shop to reach each other, though we did have an intercom as part of our telephone system. But Sissy was pretty much stuck in a closet—a well-ventilated closet, but a very small space in an inconspicuous part of the business.

Until the parade started, I hadn’t realized this would turn out to be a big advantage. Because beginning Monday morning, we had a small boom in business.

The retail shop is always busy during the summer tourist season, but that morning we weren’t drawing tourists. No, we were invaded by locals.

Barbara, manager of our bank branch, came in to buy a half pound of Amaretto truffles (“milk chocolate filling flavored with almond liqueur, enrobed in milk chocolate, and dusted with chopped almonds”).

“These are my mom’s favorites,” she said, “and tomorrow is her birthday.”

She spoke a little too casually, and she looked all around
the office and the shop. It was obvious Barbara was checking out the news that we’d hired Sissy Smith.

“Nice present,” I said. “I’m glad you came in. I want you to meet our new bookkeeper. She’ll be doing some of our banking.”

“Oh! You’ve finally hired some office help?”

“Sure have.”

We both sounded as innocent as lambs.

I took Barbara’s money, then led her back to Sissy’s little office. The two of them shook hands, and we all acted friendly and casual.

It was after Barbara left that Sissy spoke. “The gauntlet begins,” she said. “Everybody’s going to want to get a look at me.”

“Warner Pier is a small town,” I said. “There aren’t that many people to come by for a look. How are you coming with the payroll records?”

“You haven’t asked me to do anything complicated yet.”

“I warned you the job would be routine.”

“Routine sounds great. After the past four months, I love routine.”

Barbara’s visit set the pattern for the day.

At ten thirty, Sarajane, the B and B owner, came in personally to buy five pounds of mint truffles (“dark chocolate mint-flavored filling, covered in dark chocolate, and embellished with pale green stripes”). She buys these all the time to place on her guests’ pillows, but usually she expects me to deliver them.

At eleven o’clock, Jason Foster, who runs the Warner Point Restaurant, bought several pounds of Kahlúa truffles (“milk chocolate centers, flavored with coffee liqueur, covered with milk chocolate and decorated with dark chocolate stripes”). He
said he was going to experiment with offering them to accompany after-dinner coffee. Since Jason already offers a fabulous dessert cart, I didn’t really expect him to add TenHuis chocolates to his menu, but I didn’t turn down the money.

After lunch, four Warner Pier teachers came in and indulged in just one bonbon each. One had Asian spice (“milk chocolate center flavored with exotic spices and enrobed in milk chocolate, then embellished with ground ginger”). Two had French vanilla (“milk chocolate center with a milk chocolate coating, decorated with crumbled white chocolate”). The fourth went for nocturne, our darkest chocolate. Both center and coating are dark chocolate, and it’s even decorated with shaved dark chocolate. I could hear them telling the counter girls that they’d skipped the fabulous peach melba at Herrera’s, the town’s most elegant restaurant, so they could each splurge on a TenHuis chocolate.

None of these people got a look at Sissy, however. She was occupied in her office, and I didn’t offer to call her out to put her on display.

About fifteen or twenty other Warner Pier people came in—people I wouldn’t have expected to see, that is. In June, most of our customers are tourists, with a sprinkling of summer people. But that day it seemed that lots of locals had decided they needed expensive chocolate.

In fact, I began to get a bit annoyed at the parade. It was so obvious that they wanted to gawk at Sissy. Then I reminded myself to have a sense of humor. The “new” would wear off soon enough. People would get used to Sissy as a regular part of our downtown scene.

Or that was what I thought until about four forty-five.

That was when Sissy came around to my office, and at the same time a woman I didn’t know walked in the front door.

I immediately knew something was wrong. Sissy took a deep breath, and the tension in the shop grew as thick as my grandma’s mashed-potato soup.

The woman was slightly familiar, in the way that nearly everybody in a town this small is familiar. I’d probably seen her at the grocery store or the post office. But I didn’t know her.

I guessed her age at mid-fifties. Her most distinctive feature was that she layered her makeup on with a trowel, and her second most distinctive feature was phony blond hair.

Okay, I admit that as a natural blonde, I’m critical of other people’s dye jobs. I have a rather smug feeling that they’re going to work hard and spend a lot of money, but the light blond hair I got from my Dutch ancestors is still going to look better than their expensive dos. But this hair was really awful. The color was harsh and the texture dry. Why anyone would want to have hair like that was beyond me.

The other thing I didn’t understand was the stillness that fell over Sissy and the woman.

Then Sissy spoke, and the stillness went away. “Hello, Helen,” she said. “Still busy spreading joy everywhere?”

Chocolate Chat

Since its earliest days, chocolate has been assigned medicinal or health functions.

Chocolate was cultivated by the Olmec Indians in South America as early as 1500 BC. By the time Europeans entered the picture in the 1500s, it was grown, processed, and used by many tribes in South and Central America and by the Aztecs in Mexico. At that time, chocolate was a bitter drink, and it was too expensive for ordinary people. Only the wealthiest and most important could afford it.

Those ancient chocoholics believed chocolate brought wisdom, knowledge, vitality, strength, and other qualities associated with good health.

The Aztec emperor Montezuma reportedly drank chocolate before visiting his harem. Was this the first link of chocolate with romance?

Over the years, chocolate was credited with relieving diarrhea and even improving an upset stomach caused by a hangover. Chocolate makers said their product encouraged sleep, cured the common cold, brought quick energy, and eased mental stress. Plus, they claimed it even reduced belching.

Chapter 5

“I try, Sissy!” The woman’s voice dripped sugar sweeter than anything TenHuis Chocolade sells. She hadn’t seemed to notice the sarcastic edge to Sissy’s voice. “You’re looking as pretty as ever!”

“Thanks, Helen.”

Sissy turned toward me, but the new customer kept talking. “And how’s that darling little boy of yours?”

“He’s fine.”

“His grandpa would sure love to see him.”

Sissy’s only answer was a smile—a rather strained smile. Then she turned away from the woman and spoke to me. “I have a question, Lee.”

“Sure,” I said.

Sissy closed the door and stepped closer to my desk. Since the door to my office is just a sheet of glass, that didn’t accomplish much, but at least it gave the illusion of privacy.

“If you’re going to tell secrets,” I said, speaking in a low voice, “I’d better warn you this office is not soundproof.”

“No secrets. I just had a question about Tracy’s hours.”

She handed me Tracy’s time sheet, and we both looked at it, with our heads close together.

I spoke in a whisper. “Who’s the old bag with the slut makeup?”

Sissy broke up. Rarely have I had such a reaction to a remark, at least one I have made to be deliberately funny. Because of my habit—maybe I’d better call it an affliction—of getting my tongue tangled, I frequently get unsought laughs, but I’m not exactly witty.