Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates (A Chocolate Covered Mystery) (14 page)

“A
ny other photos on that drive?” I asked.

“This one.” She clicked on the final photo. It showed Larry about to enter a small, run-down house, the only light coming from a single bulb hanging from a wire above the porch. “And one more that has a different password. Zane’s still working on it.”

“Maybe that house is where he lives,” I said. “What does the geotag say about that?”

“It’s in a pretty bad area of Frederick,” she said. “Well, as bad as Frederick gets. It’s listed as Larry’s address, so I’m sure the police are all over it.”

“I guess we should hand this over to Bobby,” I said.

“Yep,” she said. “Zane already made copies.”

“We also need to blow up one of those to show Jake at the Ear.” I was hesitant to work on Denise’s murder investigation. After getting back to the safety of my kitchen I didn’t want to leave.

“Done,” she said. “I’ll have Zane call Bobby and handle the transfer.”

I flapped my elbows and clucked like a chicken.

“Just busy,” she insisted.

“So, are we both thinking that Denise maybe used these photos to . . . blackmail Larry?” I asked. It seemed ludicrous.

“Based on what we learned from Jake at the Ear and what Henna said about Denise’s financial situation suddenly righting itself, that seems to be one logical conclusion,” she said. “Maybe we should talk to Yuli about Henna’s claim that Denise had trouble paying the rent.”

Yuli Gorshkov was our landlord. His family had bought up most of the Main Street buildings after moving over from Russia in the 1940s and he still held on to his accent. Everyone thought he was in his eighties, but he’d looked eighty when I was in grade school.

“Do we have any reason to ask him to come in?” I asked her. “Maybe we can get him talking while he’s here to confirm that, and to find out where the money came from.” Although I’d never had much luck getting him to talk.

“I could ask him to check out that loose floorboard outside your kitchen,” Erica suggested. “I’ll tell him you’re concerned that someone could trip over it.”

“You could add that I almost fell carrying scalding hot chocolate.”

Erica looked alarmed. “You did?”

“No, but it’s entirely possible,” I said. “Even without a loose board.”

“I’ll call him now,” she said.

Everyone knew that he spent as much time as he could in his garden. “It’s sunny out,” I said. “Not a chance of him answering.”

• • • • • • • • • 

O
f course, Yuli didn’t answer, but Erica left a message and he surprised the heck out of me by showing up at the store as we were about to clean up. Kona, Kayla and I had finished up the day making chocolate bars. I was exhausted and happy.

Yuli came in the back door with his ancient toolbox in tow. He had white hair that wanted to stick straight up, stooped shoulders and a perpetual grumpy expression for anything that dragged him away from his flower gardens.

I was in the process of running some chocolates to the wine cooler we keep in the front kitchen when I almost ran right into him with a tray full of Dark Passion Fruit Truffles. Only years of experience juggling errant trays kept me from dropping the whole lot . . . and knocking down an old man in his eighties wouldn’t have been a good idea either.

“No pets!” he said.

“What?”

He raised a gnarled finger. “One of you is feeding a cat outside. No pets.”

“Um,” I said. “Okay.” I should’ve cleaned that up before he came over. Next time, I’d be more careful.

He stared down at the floorboard that rose a little at the end. “This one?”

“That’s the one,” I said in my most friendly voice, hoping he’d forget about Coco. “We’ve hammered it down but it keeps popping up.”

“Probably dry rot,” he said dourly.

“What?” Anything with rot in it sounded bad to me. Dry rot, root rot, foxtrot.

He waved me away. “I handle. I handle,” he said. He dropped the toolbox with a clang and struggled to get down on his knees. I felt terrible for making him do that. The first thing he did was pull out a knee pillow and step his knees up onto it. He pulled out a crowbar to lift the edge of the board and peek under.

“Sorry to bother you with this, but my cart catches on it. And I always worry when we bring field trips through here. Can I get you anything?” I asked. “I don’t have your favorite Banana Toffees done yet, but the Raspberry Surprise Milks are amazing.”

“No.” He put his hand to his back and stood up with a struggle. “I’ll be back.”

He had to know he sounded just like the Terminator when he said that line in his accent.

I was going to protest, but he left his toolbox off to the side, so I knew he really was coming back.

I was scraping chocolate drips off the linoleum floor in the kitchen when I heard Yuli return. I handed the scraper to Kayla and found Yuli lowering himself back down to the floor with a Duncan Hardware bag beside him.

“Can you fix it?” I put down a plate of raspberry chocolates and a cup of coffee within reach.

He grunted his thanks, and took a bite of one and a loud slurp of coffee.

“Yes,” he said. “It is, how you say?” He held his hand out straight and then bent it.

“Warped?”

“Yes.”

“So how’s the landlord business?” I asked, leaning on the wall.

He glared up at me from the floor, his bushy eyebrows coming together in suspicion. “Not lowering rent,” he said loudly.

“Oh no!” I said. Although now that he brought it up . . . I mentally shook myself and focused on my mission.

He lifted the edge of the board and squirted yellow glue underneath it.

“Have your other tenants asked for a reduction in rent?”

“No.” He pulled out a nail and hit it with a hammer several times.

When he stopped to check that it was smooth with the wood surface, I jumped in. “I heard that Denise was having trouble with finances, before, you know.”

He glared at me. “You pay rent on time?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.” He pulled out another nail and hammered a few more times.

I guess that meant I should mind my own business. I turned to get Erica before our prey escaped and ran right into Bean.

“What are you up to?” he asked, amused. His hand stayed on my arm, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Trying to find out if Denise was having money troubles before she died,” I whispered defensively.

“Let me try.” He walked past me to Yuli and spoke rapidly in what sounded like Russian.

Yuli’s face lit up and he returned the greeting, standing up and grabbing Bean by the shoulders to hug him.

How did Bean do that? I’d never, ever seen Yuli smile. Maybe I needed to learn Russian. They launched into a fast-paced conversation. At some point, Yuli gestured to me and asked dubiously, “Podruga?”

Bean smiled at me and said something back that made Yuli laugh.

“Back in a minute,” Bean said and they moved to the back door. Yuli held the door while Bean picked up a cement block Yuli must have left there.

“You got a towel you don’t care about?” Bean asked and I pulled the one off my shoulder.

“Put it over the board,” he said, and then placed the block on it.

Yuli moved it to exactly where he wanted it. “Don’t move for two days,” he told me in a stern voice, and then switched to more delighted Russian with Bean.

He better have coughed up the info for Bean
, I thought, just as Erica joined us and spoke in Russian as well.

“Of course you speak Russian,” I said to her.

“Just a few words,” she admitted. “Bean is the expert.”

“What does something like pa-droo-ga mean?” I said.

“Girlfriend,” she said absently, focusing on a new conversation Bean was having.

Girlfriend? Right. Bean had dated freakin’ models before spending so much time in Africa. And not just models. Models who had half a brain.

I gave up trying to be part of the group and went to find our
Be Careful. Wet Floor
sign to put over the cement block. The solution was going to be more of an issue than the problem over the next two days.

We hovered in the area until Yuli packed up. Bean carried the toolbox outside to Yuli’s pickup truck.

“What did he say?” I asked as soon as Bean came back in, trying to ignore how cute he was with his hair all windswept.

He waved us both into the back hallway, away from the kitchen. “Denise was more than three months behind in her rent,” he said quietly.

I gasped. “She could’ve been evicted for that.”

“Did Yuli tell the police?” Erica asked.

“No,” Bean said. “He doesn’t want his other tenants to know and try to get away with being late. Then about two weeks ago, she paid it all in full.” He paused. “In cash.”

“Holy cow,” I said. “That’s a lot of cash.”

“Did Yuli ask where she got it?” Erica asked.

“Yes,” Bean said. “He asked if she’d robbed a bank and she said no, that an old friend owed her money and finally paid up.”

• • • • • • • • • 

I
was restocking chocolate bars on Erica’s cashier stand. “An old friend who owed her? It had to be Larry the Loser.”

“It certainly gives our blackmail theory credence,” Erica said.

“You should ask Colleen what she knows,” I said. “They were best friends.”

“Ask Colleen what?” I heard behind me.

“Speak of the devil,” Erica said.

“You know I hate that expression,” Colleen said in her cranky voice. Of course, she must be grieving the loss of her friend. And her husband’s affair. And his being a suspect. Worse, she had one of the twins in full snotty-nose mode on her hip. He laid his head on her shoulder and sucked his thumb, obviously sick. She certainly wasn’t here to help in the store.

I took a step back. “We heard that Denise was behind on rent. Did you know why?”

Her already tired face drooped even further as she nodded. “She didn’t want anyone to know. She thought it would hurt her business even more.”

“Was the studio having problems?” Erica asked.

“She was doing okay, until that scummy ex-boyfriend stole five thousand dollars from her,” she said.

“Five thousand?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice.

“Yep.” Colleen shifted her son to her other hip. “He drained her savings and took off.”

I had a flash of anger at both of them. What did she expect messing with a criminal? “But two weeks ago she paid off her rent in cash.”

Colleen looked surprised. “She didn’t tell me that, but then, she hadn’t talked to me much lately.” Her face grew sad for a moment, and then she turned to Erica. “Can you babysit tonight?”

Say no
, I thought. Erica couldn’t afford to get whatever sickness germ-boy was carrying.

“I’m pretty busy getting ready to reopen,” Erica said. “What about Bean?”

Colleen gave her a “yeah right” look and waited.

“Okay,” Erica said.

Noooo!

Colleen thanked her and said she’d drop the kids off later, her fatigue undeniable.

“Makes you wonder if it’s all worth it.” I watched as she turned the corner and went out the back.

“What?” Erica set the latest Michael Connelly bestseller on a display stand.

“The whole kid thing.”

Erica looked at me like I was crazy. “Of course it is. Those kids are adorable.”

Adorable?

Just then Zane came rushing out. “I got it!” He opened his laptop on the tiny bit of counter not covered with books.

“You have the last photo?” Erica asked.

“Yeah,” he said and then paused, turning his laptop away. “It’s a little R-rated.”

“No problem,” I said and then wished I hadn’t. A photo of Larry asleep on his stomach, naked, appeared on the screen. “No!” I covered my eyes with my hands. “Now I can never un-see that!”

“Sorry,” Zane said.

Erica reached over to touch the keypad. With a few clicks, she zoomed in on Larry’s butt.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “My eyes are already bleeding!”

“I want to see his tattoo,” she said, as if she wasn’t staring at a photo of a naked man. “It says ‘No Regrets’ but it’s spelled ‘Regerts.’” She couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll bet he
regerts
that,” I said. “So you want to print that photo out to show Jake?”

“That guy looks nekked,” Bean said from behind us.

I jumped. “We have to start locking that door.”

“You just missed Colleen,” Erica said, trying to change the subject. “She wants you to babysit.”

“I heard,” he said, moving closer, “which is why I’m avoiding her.”

“So you can handle African warlords, but you can’t handle two-year-olds?” I asked.

“Damn right.” Then he paused. “So you read my book?”

“Of course I read it.” Did he think I couldn’t read?

He smiled and then pointed to the photo. “Who’s that?”

Erica rolled her eyes at his big-brother attitude. “Larry,” she said. He already knew our theory about Larry from the project plan and she filled him in on the photos Zane had found on the flash drive of Larry burglarizing a house. “We always thought he was the one who broke into her studio. Colleen said he took money from her. Maybe Denise used these to force him into paying her back.”