All You Need Is Fudge (23 page)

“No,” Frances said with a shake of her head. “But he did ask me to dress semiformal. Jennifer is going to come home with me at five and help me. She promised to do my makeup so that I look great.” Frances leaned in closer. “I want to look good should we go to the Grand and the photographer wants to take our picture.”

“That would be a great memento.” I made a mental note to see if we can't get a still photograph to go with the video.

“I'm excited,” she said, her gaze sparkling in the afternoon light. “I feel like a teenager again. Who knew we could find love at our age?”

“I think you can find love at any age,” I said. “If you look for it hard enough. In fact, most of the time it's right under our noses.”

“Yes,” Frances said with another nod. “The answers to life usually are.”

I handed Frances off to Jenn and went upstairs to my office. I'd asked Trent to have Paige go over the list of party invitees and mark through anyone who hadn't gone and add anyone who was not on the original list. He'd texted back that Rex had asked for the same thing early on in the investigation so they already had a copy on hand.

I downloaded the list to my laptop and printed it out. I studied it carefully. Several of them simply had a plus one marked by their name. It was important to know who all were there. I made notes of who I knew and who I didn't know. All told, twenty-five people had been aboard. The boat had been captained by Trent's friend Peter. That was the extent of the crew. A catering staff and bartender had also been aboard. I frowned. The list wasn't telling me anything.

I gave up and went up to the rooftop to see how things were progressing without Jenn. She had said all was well and I believed her, but still I wanted to check it out. Frances had been so cute about her date tonight. I'm not sure she suspected the proposal, but I was happy to help make it special.

It had me wondering why Trent and I didn't celebrate our monthly anniversaries. I'd never really thought of it. We'd been together eight weeks . . . or was it ten? I laughed at myself. No wonder he didn't include me in his sister's investigation from the start. We weren't as serious as Frances and Mr. Devaney. The next thought had me stopping halfway between the roof and the attic.
What would I do if Trent asked me to marry him?

White sheers billowed prettily in the breeze. The sky was a royal blue, creating a stunning backdrop for the gazebo. Soft music played through the speakers hidden behind four large palms. I knew video cameras were also hidden in two of the palms and would be activated with a remote by Mr. Devaney, giving him total control of what was recorded and what wasn't.

I smiled at the thought of when he might turn it off.

“Everything is set and ready,” Sandy said. She had two big pillows in her hands.

I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow at the pillows.

“Editing,” she said solemnly. “First you put out everything you think you want, then you edit back. What you leave out is just as important as what you put in.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Makes sense. At their age, I don't see them getting down on the floor and sitting on pillows.”

“The chairs were plenty,” Sandy said. “Plus more room for dancing.”

“It's going to be a wonderful evening.” I held the trap door open for Sandy as she climbed down with the pillows. When I headed down a thought struck me.
Maybe it wasn't as important who was on the invitation list for the
Scoundrel
that night as it was who was left off the list.

I headed back to my desk where the list sat and scanned it briefly front and back. If Carin and Paige had made up and were becoming fast friends, why wasn't Carin invited to the party?

I sent a text to Trent.

Trent texted back.
Let me ask Paige.

I waited a minute and drummed my fingers on my desk.

He finally texted back.
Carin had a campaign committee meeting she'd planned to attend via Skype.

Wait. If she was part of a Skype committee meeting, why was she wearing a silk cocktail dress?

It was yacht club week. Everyone was having a party that night.
Trent answered.

 

Except you and me.
I texted back wryly.

 

 

I texted a smiley face emoji, but my mind was still on Carin's murder. If Paige and Carin had joined forces to support James Jamison's political campaign, who else had joined in? Eleanor? Mrs. Jones? I needed to get my hands on a list of locals who may have contributed. Maybe Carin left the Skype call to attend a political party.

He texted back.
I'll have her e-mail it to you. Am I still dropping by around ten?

I texted back.
Oh yes. You don't want to miss this.

He sent me a heart icon, which made me smile. This gorgeous, sexy, wealthy man had said he loved me. It made me want even more to prove his sister's innocence.

The list of political contributors was short and mostly the names I expected—people with the most wealth and power on the island—except one. I frowned at the name and the substantial amount that she had contributed.

Gail Hall, the coffee shop owner, had contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to the Jamison campaign. She didn't seem the type to have that much money. I checked my watch. It was eight fifteen. Time for Mr. Devaney to pick up Frances for their romantic carriage tour of the island.

Jenn sent me pictures of Frances wearing a black sequined top with a floaty chiffon tea length skirt and black pumps. Her hair was tucked into an updo with baby's breath in it. She looked gorgeous. I also received phone pictures of Mr. Devaney in a black suit, white shirt, and red bow tie. He'd picked Frances up in a white Cinderella carriage and they slowly took the trail around the island that started at Main Street. Later they would return to the back of the McMurphy where he would help her up the flower strewn steps to the roof.

Everything was set. Mal was freshly bathed and had a red bow attached around her neck. Caramella was also groomed with a red ribbon and little bell around her neck . . . much to her chagrin. I was dressed in a black cocktail dress and three-inch black pumps. In exactly an hour, Jenn and Shane would be here. Trent would come. The four of us would have cocktails in the apartment and wait for Mr. Devaney to signal that she said yes and they were ready for us all to come up and bring champagne.

I looked at the list and I looked at the time once more. The coffee shop didn't close until nine
PM.
I could go get some éclairs and ask Gail about her contribution to the Jamison campaign and still be back by nine.

Really, I had nothing else to do but wait. I grabbed my clutch purse, gave Mal a treat, and texted Jenn as I left the McMurphy.

I stuffed my phone in my clutch purse and headed off as fast as I could in heels. I knew better than to check my phone when I heard it ding that a text had arrived. Jenn would be chiding me. But really, the coffee shop was a half a mile from the McMurphy. I doubted I would be in too much trouble if I stopped by and bought dessert.

“Allie McMurphy,” Gail said as I entered the empty coffee shop.

“Hi Gail,” I said with a smile. “I hoped you were still open.”

“You know we close at nine, but since yacht week is over, there's little business after seven.”

“Do you have any of your éclairs left? I thought I'd pick up a dozen for dessert.”

“Sure.” She pulled out a bakery box and folded it. “Chocolate?”

“Yes,” I said.

The shop was quiet. I could hear the splash of the waves against the pier and the distant sound of a foghorn.

“Do you live above the shop?” I asked to make conversation. After all, I lived above my shop and the coffee shop had two stories.

“Yes. I like being right on the water.” Gail grabbed a bakery tissue from the box and opened the glass door and started to count éclairs as she put them in the box.

“You must have a great view,” I said, chattering as I tried to bring up the question I had come to ask. “We have to go on the roof of the McMurphy to see the lake. My apartment has a nice view of the alley and the pool house behind.”

“Too bad for you,” she said as she put in thirteen éclairs.

She smiled at me. “A baker's dozen.” A baker's dozen was when they added extra for free. She closed up the box and moved to the counter.

“Thanks.” I said as she closed up the box and moved to the counter. “Listen I was wondering . . .”

“Yes?” She rang up the éclairs at fifteen dollars.

“I saw that you contributed quite a bit to the Jamison for congress campaign.” I tilted my head and opened my purse to dig out a ten and a five-dollar bill.

“Yes,” she said.

“Why? I mean he's running for congress in Chicago, right?” I handed her the money.

She took it and opened her register, placed the bills carefully in the bin, and then looked at me. Her brown gaze had turned strangely cold. I took a step back.

“Carin had promised me if I gave that amount to the Jamison campaign she would ensure that the marina zoning committee renewed my lease for another five years.”

“Oh.” I sent Gail a small smile. The hair on the back of my neck rose when she didn't close the register drawer. “I would have donated, too, if I thought it meant I could keep the McMurphy.”

“The committee turned down my renewal,” Gail said, her gaze growing dark. “They want to tear down the historic shops and put up condos.”

“Well, they can't do that.” I picked up my box of eclairs and took a second step toward the door. “The historic committee won't let them.”

“That's what Carin said.” Gail closed her register with a bang. “But she lied. It seems it takes more than my life's savings to buy the historic committee.”

“That's horrible.”

“Yes, it is, but not enough to make Carin sorry. I wondered how long it would take for you to figure me out.” She pulled out a gun and aimed it at me. “Drop the eclairs.”

I swallowed hard. The glint of light on the gun was terrifying. I raised my hands. “I didn't have you figured out. I . . . wait. You had black paint on your hands the morning I pulled Carin from the water.”

Her expression was grim. “I stenciled
Scoundrel
on the oar. But you figured that out, didn't you?”

I winced. “I knew that oar was not an original. It didn't make sense. Let me guess. There are only two on the manifest, but there were three on the boat.”

She didn't say anything.

So I had to ask, “How did you get Paige's fingerprints on the oar?”

“That was pure luck,” Gail said. “I put the oar on the deck. Paige must have picked it up and moved it.”

“And drugging everyone?”

“I had nothing to do with that. I overheard Harold bragging about the prank he pulled and used it to my advantage. I confronted Carin on the pier that night when I'd overheard the committee talking about building condos where my shop is. She couldn't have cared less that I gave her my entire life's savings. She shrugged and said that was a risk I took.”

“So you grabbed an oar and hit her as she walked away.”

“I was so angry all I saw was red. The next thing I knew, she was in the water. I thought, good. Let her ruin her dress and have a headache in the morning. That darn dress probably cost what I had given to the campaign.” Gail shook her head.

“But you'd painted the oar before you brought us coffee the morning I pulled Carin from the marina.”

“I saw you jump in and got worried. I pulled the oar out of the back room and stenciled it with
Scoundrel
,” she said. “It was still drying when I brought you coffee.”

“You hid the oar until the
Scoundrel
came in and then managed to toss it on the deck without being seen.”

“No one notices you if they are used to seeing you on the pier. It was a simple matter of rowing over, tossing the oar, and rowing back to the coffee shop.”

“And they arrested Paige,” I said.

Gail shrugged. “The Jessops are rich enough that they would be able to see that Paige didn't go to jail for long. The cops wouldn't look anywhere else. I was out my life savings, but I had my revenge.”

“Until I started looking.”

“Until I heard you were poking around. Then I got nervous.”

I frowned. “You put the bear trap on my doorstep.”

“I warned you to back off.”

My hands were in the air, but I took a step back so that I was in the window of the shop. All I could do was hope that someone was out and about and would see me standing there with my arms up. “You could have killed my pets.”

“I doubt it. Your dog is too smart and a cat . . . well, a cat isn't going to get caught in a trap.”

“You shouldn't have done it,” I said. “It only made Rex suspicious and kept me looking.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but Rex is as much a part of the political scene here as the Moores and the Jessops. He wasn't going to do anything about a bear trap he couldn't trace.”

I tried to keep her talking. “You can't shoot me. People will figure you out. If you let me go, I won't say anything. I just came for éclairs.”

Gail smiled. “Don't be silly. If I let you stick your head out of the door you'll be screaming bloody murder. No, we're going to go out the back and down to the water. You're going to kill yourself and leave a note that you were the one who killed Carin. That you did it because Trent asked you to, but you couldn't live with yourself.”

“No one will believe that,” I said.

Gail shrugged. “Maybe not, but they aren't going to have any idea it was me.” She waved the gun toward her back door. “Go. Don't try anything heroic or your body might be lost at sea.”

“You can't shoot me here,” I said. “There will be blood evidence.”

“I have a lot of bleach,” she said. “I'm not too worried about blood. Now go out the back.”

“No.” I held my ground with my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “If you're going to shoot me, you are going to have to do it here. In front of your windows. Then you're going to have to figure out how to clean up the mess.”

A flash of pure anger rose in her gaze. “I'll simply burn the place down,” she countered. “Your death will be accidental and I'll get insurance money.”

“People won't believe you.”

“They will because they'll want to. They want this property for condos, remember?” She held the gun out straight. “Good-bye, Allie.”

The door was kicked open with a bang.

“Freeze! Police!”

The sound of four guns being cocked filled the air.

Gail's eyes narrowed and for a brief moment I thought she might shoot me anyway. Then she raised her hands in surrender.

“Put the gun on the ground!” Rex ordered.

Gail slowly put the gun down, not taking her gaze from me. I shook from head to toe with my arms in the air.

“Get down on the ground,” Rex said.

I fell to my knees along with Gail. Two policemen grabbed her and pushed her down, cuffing her.

Officer Brown came toward me. “Are you all right, Allie?”

I nodded. “Yes. How did you know to come?”

“Jenn Christensen called Rex,” Charles replied as he helped me to my feet.

My knees were still a little shaky.

Jenn burst through the door as Gail was hauled away. “Allie, are you okay? I called Rex the moment I got your text.”

I tilted my head, confused. “All I texted was that I was going for éclairs.”

Jenn put her hand on her hips. She looked ridiculously fierce in a black body-conscious dress and spikey heels. “You never go out for éclairs this late. I figured it was code for you knew who the killer was. Why else would you leave us during this big night?”

I sent her a wry smile and shrugged. “I wanted éclairs?”

Jenn snorted inelegantly and I laughed.

“What happened?” Rex asked.

Shane came in the coffee shop with his crime scene kit in hand. He put down the kit and put on gloves.

“Um,” I started to say when my knees buckled with relief.

Officer Brown caught me and pulled out a chair from a nearby table.

“Thanks.”

Jenn stood over me. “This could have waited until tomorrow.”

I winced. “I had a question. I thought it was an easy question.”

“What was the question?” Rex asked me.

“I wanted to know why Gail gave twenty-five thousand dollars to James Jamison's political fund. He's running for congress in the Chicago district.”

“And Gail's answer?” Rex asked.

“She said that Carin had promised to influence the board against putting condos up where the coffee shop is . . . if Gail donated to Jamison's campaign.”

“But the board passed zoning for condos here,” Jenn said.

“Gail confronted Carin that night when Carin was waiting for her lover on the pier,” I said.

“Where did she get the oar from the
Scoundrel
?” Jenn asked.

I looked at Shane and Rex. “I bet if you check the inventory there were three oars not two on board when you searched. Shane, check the paint on the murder weapon. The morning I pulled Carin from the marina, Gail brought us coffee. She had black paint on her hands. Tonight, she told me she had stenciled
Scoundrel
on the oar.”

“What about the drugs found in the alcohol at Paige's party?”

“A prank,” I said. “Harold bragged about it after the
Scoundrel
left the marina that night. Gail overheard him and that's how she knew Paige wouldn't have an alibi. It wasn't premeditated. Stenciling
Scoundrel
on the oar was an afterthought.”

“And you're okay?” Rex asked.

“Yes.” I raised my hand to stop Shane. “There's no reason to take this outfit into evidence.”

Jenn laughed. “Let's hope not. We have an engagement to celebrate.”

“Crap,” I muttered and looked at my watch. It was 9:15. “Did we miss it?”

Jenn checked her phone and chuckled. “Mr. Devaney texted.” She showed us her phone.