Behind Chocolate Bars (7 page)

“What do you mean?” Was it a coincidence that as soon as the class mean girl was found, she was dead?

“She was just so nasty to anyone who wasn't in her little group,” she said. “Today she'd be labeled the bully that she was, but back then we all just dealt with her the best way we could.”

“But you were class president.”

She nodded with false modesty. “I know. Lucky for me she wasn't interested in anything like that—just Homecoming Queen. And Prom Queen of course.”

“What kind of bullying did she do?”

“She was just vicious. At the time, I thought she could read everyone's mind and know the exact thing they didn't want anyone to know.” She stopped to think, with a look of vulnerability. “For me, it was that I was a little overweight. I can't tell you how many times she whispered things like ‘fat pig' at me as I walked by. Or she'd make fun of my name, saying things like ‘On her tambourine is here.'” She
rushed on to add, “But she was much worse to others, especially anyone really on the outs.”

“Like who?” I asked, even as I heard Erica's grammar ghost whispering “whom” in my ear.

“Everyone,” she said. “The goths, the druggies, the wannabe jocks, the nerds. Even the kids who just wanted to be left alone.
Especially
them.”

“Wow.” Inside I was thinking,
That's a lot of people with motive
. “Did
anyone
like her?”

“I don't think so,” she said. “She went to college in Colorado or someplace out West and didn't even tell anyone when she came home. At least according to her friends. They were all shocked that she lived so close for the last few years and never contacted them.”

I realized that we'd been talking about Faith for a long time. “Did you ‘find' any other students on the Lost Classmates list?”

She chatted on about several of the “found” students until I asked, “Are you collecting any kind of information about your classmates? Jobs, families, that kind of thing?”

“Oh yes!” she said. “But our survey is way cool. Instead of those stupid questions like ‘How many children do you have?' we made it all about high school. Like, favorite lunchtime experience, most embarrassing story, who'd you have a secret crush on, that kind of thing. Someone on the reunion committee is putting together a slide show with photos and answers to the questions for the party.”

“That
is
cool,” I said casually, even though I was thoroughly excited at what could be a treasure trove of useful information. “Another way social media is influencing reunions. Is there
any chance you could send me the questions and responses? We wouldn't use any of it in the story without your permission.”

“Sure,” she said. “We emailed it to everyone we could find, and it's part of the Facebook page too. I can add you if you send me a friend request.” She brought Facebook up on her phone. “Oh wait. You want to be a secret, right? Let me think of a name you can use.” She paused to think. “You know, it's too bad you're not taller. We had a Swedish exchange student that you could pretend to be.” Her eyes made a sweep of the store. “So when is Benjamin getting here?”

“Let me text him and see,” I said. “While we're waiting, did any of the answers to your survey surprise you?”

She frowned as she scanned the answers on her phone. “There was only one. When we first sent it out, Wade Overton emailed it back right away. And he said he had a crush on Faith Monette way back when.”

A crush? “Why did that surprise you?”

She shrugged. “He was this really quiet guy in high school, hung out in the machine shop mostly. I doubt she ever even spoke to him.”

“Is he coming to the reunion?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. She glanced at the door and her face lit up.

Bean had arrived. I wondered if that's what my face did when I first saw him.

*   *   *

I
t took all of my control not to slap Honor's hand off of Bean's arm while she finally said good-bye. I'd tried to find Erica while Honor gushed over Bean, but she had run over to the post office. Finally, Honor was gone and Bean told
me that the only additional information he'd learned was that Honor was single and her high school crush had been the captain of the water polo team. Not at all helpful. He seemed highly amused by Honor's adoration before he left.

I filled Erica in about Faith's mean-girl reputation when she got back. “She mentioned only one person who seemed to actually like Faith in high school,” I said. I explained about the questions for the reunion. “Wade Overton said he had a crush on Faith back then.”

She shrugged. “Worth a shot. Should I ask Zane if Wade was one of her dates?”

“Sure,” I said. “I wonder why she wanted to attend the reunion after so many years of ignoring her high school friends.”

“Maybe she was planning to apologize,” she said.

Sheesh. Erica really liked to see the best in people. Even a catfish like Faith.

L
ater in the evening, Erica and I were at the Boys and Girls Club, meeting with Harold Duncan about where to place the vampire coffin so it wouldn't hit anyone when it opened. Harold's son Sammy was putting special hinges on it to make it spring closed once the vampire inside wasn't holding it open. I was sure something was going to go wrong with this prop at some point, but we were on a fast-moving train that wasn't stopping until opening night.

The club looked so crazily different from the place where I'd spent so much time growing up. It wasn't just the blackout paper covering the windows, the dark walls we'd built to guide the customers to their next frightening moment, or all the scary decorations we'd placed everywhere. When I'd been at the club, someone else had been in charge of all the kids' safety. Now we were in charge.

But Yvonne was the Boys and Girls Club director, and she didn't seem worried at all. “If we angle it deeper into the corner, and place the glow-in-the-dark tape showing where to walk farther away, it'll be fine.”

Quinn had backed out of meeting with Erica at the shop, but she had shown up to volunteer for the festival preparations. We'd asked her to help Janice the Costume Lady spray red paint onto the zombie costumes, so we knew where she'd be all evening.

I noticed her walking toward the now-empty quiet room, so I gestured for Erica to follow me. Quinn set down her backpack, which was covered with patches of superheroes.

She turned to go and saw us in the doorway, and looked trapped. She obviously didn't want to talk to us. Luckily, I'd grabbed her favorite chocolates as a bribe and held out the box. “Watermelon and Cotton Candy Whites?” I didn't work with a lot of white chocolate but some of my customers loved it.

She took the box reluctantly.

“How is Dylan doing?” Erica asked.

Quinn's face froze. “He's fine.”

“Have you seen him?” I asked.

“No,” she said in a grudging tone. “Just texted.”

“We're just trying to help,” Erica said. “You know that, right?”

“I can't tell you anything.” She took a bite of her truffle and the pink filling oozed out.

Oh man. That meant there was something to tell.

“We know that Oscar was dating Faith,” Erica said quietly.

Quinn's eyes widened, but she didn't respond.

“And we know Faith was a catfish,” I added.

Quinn pressed her lips together hard, as if forcing herself not to say anything, and stared at the floor.

Erica ducked her head to try to get Quinn to look at her. “Did Oscar know?”

Quinn took a short, fast breath and blurted out, “Oh my God, it was so obvious! She said she was some big-time real estate agent and then Dylan couldn't find anything about her so-called business and told his dad.”

“Did his dad ask her about it?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “And then she pretended to admit that she really was just a secretary to a Realtor and was getting her real estate license, like she was ashamed or something. But even that wasn't true. She didn't even have a job.”

“How do you know that?” Erica asked.

Quinn stuck out her chin. “We followed her. A lot. She never went anywhere but her apartment and on dates.”

They followed her?

Erica seemed shocked as well, taking a moment to respond. “Who followed her?”

“We all did. Dylan, Trent, Tommy and me,” she said. “We took turns so she wouldn't recognize us. And Dylan's dad didn't even believe us when we all told him together that she was a liar.”

“What did Oscar say?” I asked.

“He told Dylan to stay out of his business.”

“What did Dylan do then?”

“Nothing.” We could see her close down. “I have to get to work. Right now.”

She pushed past us, and we let her go.

*   *   *

W
hen we opened up on Wednesday, I was surprised and delighted to see Coco sitting on the back porch of Chocolates and Chapters, her brown tabby fur almost blending into the wood. “Are you getting ready for empty-nest syndrome?” I asked her. Maybe she'd resume her Main Street shop visits once she was kitten-free.

She stayed on the porch and waited patiently for me to go back inside and dig up some cat food, just like our old routine. I sat on the little porch and petted her while she purred and ate.

It was amazing how much Coco's visit comforted me. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed her.

When she finished eating, she thanked me by cleaning her face on my jeans. Then, tail high in the air, she took off for her next visit, and her next breakfast.

I grabbed the empty bowl and went back into the store to find Erica rearranging bookshelves. Kona appeared from the back, tying her apron as she walked. “Did you guys see Reese's article?”

Erica pulled her phone out of her pocket while I whined, “Am I going to have to read her blog every day now?”

“You might want to see this,” Kona said. She turned her phone around and I took it from her so I could read.

Murder Victim Victimized Twice!
the headline said. It seemed that Faith Monette's apartment had been ransacked and robbed the same night she was killed. Reese was already predicting that whoever had robbed her had killed her, which to be fair wasn't too far-fetched.

“What could a twenty-eight-year-old own that someone would want to kill her for it?” I asked Erica and Kona.

Kona looked offended. “I have plenty of stuff that people want. TV, my gaming system, computer—”

“Computer!” I said.

Erica's eyes narrowed. “Maybe someone wanted the information she had on her computer.”

“Enough to kill her for it!” I sounded way too dramatic, as if I'd just cracked the entire case. “Do you remember when I couldn't find my laptop at the haunted house and Zane tracked it down for me?”

Erica nodded, probably already two steps ahead of my thinking process.

I went ahead anyway. “If what Reese wrote is true—and you can ask Bobby now that it's public—then maybe the police don't have Faith's computer yet. And if the police don't have it, then maybe Zane could figure out where it is.”

“If we found it, we'd have to give it to the police,” Erica warned while she texted Bobby.

“I know.” I smiled. “But maybe we can, you know, at least check out her emails first?”

Kona gave a big sigh. “You guys can't help yourselves, can you?” She grabbed her phone from me, and I pulled mine out of my back pocket.

Erica's phone dinged. “Bobby says it's true and to leave it alone.”

“At least he answered you.” I was already dialing Zane, not realizing that it was still early in his world.

He answered with a sleepy “Yeah.”

“Sorry to wake you, Zane. This is Michelle,” I told him,
in case his brain wasn't processing voices yet. “Is there any chance you can use that same app that you used to find my computer and track down the location of Faith's computer?”

He was silent on the other end for a moment. “Give me a minute.” He hung up.

I couldn't help my excitement. “If Faith is anything like us, she had her whole life on that computer.”

Zane called back. “Luckily for you, she has the same app. And she uses the same password for just about everything. It says the computer is at her home address.”

“You're sure?” I asked. “How accurate is that app? If it was at her home, why wouldn't the police have taken it?”

I could almost hear his shrug. “Pretty accurate. The app gives me the address. It's an apartment complex, so the computer could be anywhere at that location.” He yawned. “Why? What's going on?”

I filled him in about the burglary, and then realized I'd never learned if the guy who had liked Faith in high school was in touch with her. “Did you find out if that Wade guy was one of Faith's dates?”

“Yes I did. And no, he wasn't,” Zane said.

There went that idea.

We said our good-byes, with Zane most likely going back to sleep, and I told Erica what he'd found.

The bells on the front door jingled as Bean walked in.

I smiled. “Hey. Want to take a field trip this afternoon?”

“Sure,” he said. “Is this about Dylan?”

I explained about the computer still being in Faith's building.

He got his “on the hunt” look. “Now?”

Amused at his impatience, I said, “No. I have to make a batch of Goji Berry and Himalayan Salt Dark Chocolate Bars.”

He relaxed. “Goji berry?”

“Yes. They're amazing for antioxidants,” I said, “and delicious.” I picked up my phone. “I'll see when Kayla can come in.” The call went straight to voice mail and I left a message.

Erica gave me a serious look. “You two need to be careful. Whoever is holding on to that computer may have killed for it.”

*   *   *

K
ayla wasn't free until one and then Bean got held up on his own investigation, so we didn't get started until late in the afternoon. Bean drove in his nondescript Honda, and we made it to the address of Faith's apartment complex, which Zane had provided before the evening rush hour. It was a series of relatively new two-story buildings along a country road. The first foray of development into the countryside that would inevitably lead to more and more buildings and fewer and fewer trees.

Faith's building was on the end, with a huge banner that said,
First month FREE!
It seemed to contain four nice-sized apartments on two floors. “What do we do?” I asked.

“Let's knock on doors first,” Bean said. “We'll see what we can learn from her neighbors.”

As we got closer, we could see the crime scene tape fluttering across a door on the second floor. Was that where it happened? Whoa. I had to calm myself down. Detective Lockett hadn't said if the police knew where the murder
occurred yet. Her apartment was still sealed off as a crime scene, so we wouldn't be able to get in there.

We split up the downstairs units and each knocked on a door. Nothing.

We both went upstairs to Faith's neighbor. A small dog yapped from inside, but no one answered.

“Let's see if we can find the super,” Bean suggested.

Just then I got a text from Leo.
Staying out of trouble?

That was weird.
I'm out with Bean
.

And staying out of trouble?
Leo repeated.

I held up the phone to show it to Bean. I could tell we both had the same thought, that maybe Leo was actually following us. We scanned the road and didn't see Leo's car or motorcycle. We shouldn't have bothered. Leo had been a Marine. If he didn't want us to see him, we never would. I texted him again.
Of course. I'll call you in ten?

He didn't reply. I checked behind us several times as we followed a winding cement path to the pool and barbecue area. We found a door with a Building Manager sign and hours when he was available. Bean knocked and a bow-legged man with a grizzled face opened the door. He could have been anywhere from sixty to ninety.

He frowned. “Not talking to no reporters.”

Wow. He had pretty good radar.

He tried to close the door but Bean stuck his foot in. “This isn't about the murder,” he lied. “I'm working on a piece about keeping people, especially women, safe. We've learned that your tenant was dating men she found online and that may have led to her death.”

The manager stared as if evaluating whether he could trust Bean.

I stepped forward. “Do you have a daughter?” I asked. “I'm only asking because I'm a victim too. Not as terrible as what happened to Ms. Monette, but . . .” I let my voice trail off. “I'm doing what I can to make the world safer.” Maybe I was getting too good at lying for an investigation.

The manager scowled, but held the door open. “Come in, I guess.”

“Thank you,” Bean said and pulled a small notebook out of his jacket. “Could I get your name or would you like to be anonymous?”

“Anonymous,” he said. “But you can call me Floyd.”

I looked around the living room, where bookshelves filled with models of various NASCAR cars lined a whole wall. The rest of the room was filled with an eclectic assortment of furniture. Maybe he kept what tenants left behind. “Cool collection.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for talking to us, Floyd,” Bean said. “Since our story is about being safe online, do you have any knowledge that Ms. Monette used an online dating service?”

He shook his head. “Just that she had more than a few fellas sniffing around.”

“Have the police given you any information about the burglary that occurred? Do they think it's connected to what happened to her?” Bean asked.

Floyd sat up straight in his chair. “No! And you don't put that in there. This is a safe place.”

Bean held up his hands. “Of course. It certainly looks safe. Did they say anything about the murder happening here?”

“No,” he said. “They didn't find anything here. Just her stuff missing.”

“Okay,” Bean said. “Any idea who broke in to her place?”

“No idea,” Floyd said, shifting in his seat.

“What kind of security cameras do you have?”

“Why you asking that?” he said, starting to get riled up. “Don't have any. No need.”

“Did she have friends here in the complex?” Bean asked. “Someone that looked out for her?”

Floyd reacted with something between a snort and a “pshaw.” “There's that Chuck fellow. Total pothead. His folks bought him this condo and every time he gets himself fired, they tell me they're gonna sell it and put him on the street. But they never do.”

“Chuck?” I asked. “Where does he live?”

“Next building over,” he said. “But he didn't help her none. She probably helped him.”