Death Is Like a Box of Chocolates (A Chocolate Covered Mystery) (19 page)

Since I found it nearly impossible to do public speaking even when I wasn’t emotionally involved, I’d convinced Erica to speak for both of us. She did a wonderful job, talking about Denise’s problem customers, from the woman who wanted her to use Photoshop to make her dog’s teeth straight to the man who insisted on a nude photo to post to his online dating account. And of course, she highlighted how much fun it was to work so closely with Denise.

Next Principal Palladine told the funny story of Denise deciding to skip school and then her car breaking down, causing a traffic jam on Main Street. So many people called to tattle to her mom that she never played hooky again.

Finally, Gwen spoke of Denise’s dedication to the town’s Memorial Day weekend. “So, let’s fulfill Denise’s wish to make this weekend truly special for everyone.”

When some of the audience murmured their approval, I met Erica’s eyes, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining that the mayor had highjacked Denise’s funeral for her own efforts. Erica’s face looked as what-the-hell? as I felt.

I hoped Gwen wasn’t losing her small-town mayor touch and turning into a politician with a capital P.

Principal Palladine must have had the same thought, and he was never shy about telling people to do the right thing. He peeled her off for a private talk during the short walk outside to the reception hall. She didn’t look very happy with what looked like a lecture, but she seemed to listen.

• • • • • • • • • 

T
he thought of a Preakness party with a restaurant filled with people yelling for their horse to win was too much for me after the funeral and small reception that followed. I escaped to my own home, closing the door to let Erica know I’d rather be alone in case she also skipped the festivities. I suspected some of the parties would be way more subdued than usual, even for people who didn’t know Denise personally.

Unable to settle in any of my favorite spots for more than a few minutes, I got ready to take the run I’d missed in the morning, hoping to dispel the restlessness that had settled around me.

Heat from the afternoon sun was still hanging on, but a light breeze hinted at the promise of a cool evening as I struggled through my first mile. Cicadas buzzed, birds swooped to catch low-flying bugs and dogs barked in the distance.

My neighborhood was normally quiet, but with practically everyone at Preakness parties, I didn’t even hear children playing outside at my neighbors’ houses like usual.

My parents had always had a big party for the Preakness, inviting tons of friends. When I was thirteen, I’d won the betting pool, accurately predicting the trifecta, the top three horses in order. That was enough to convince myself that I must be psychic. Leo had played along, reinforcing my newfound talent by saying I kept reading his mind, until my mom forced him to confess that he’d been messing with me. Of course, he’d have kicked the butt of anyone else who dared to make fun of me that way.

I filled my lungs, feeling like it was the first time I could breathe deeply since I’d discovered Denise’s body. Having the support of the town had gone a long way toward believing that the shop would be okay. We had a heck of a lot of work to do for the fudge cook-off, and too many people in the town were counting on Memorial Day weekend, but knowing Erica, it would all come together.

A few cars passed as I hit my two-mile marker and I focused on holding my pace steady. Summer league softball started soon and even though it was more about hanging out with friends than winning, I didn’t want to let my team down. We were like a weird little family that laughed and teased, fought and made up, and partied after games together.

I don’t know what clued me in that the car coming up behind me was a problem. It slowed down as it rounded the corner, like drivers always did when surprised by a runner in the road.

But then I heard the driver gun the engine. That determined acceleration made me turn my head. A black pickup truck was aiming right for me.

I
leapt to the side of the road at the last second, low, like I was diving into home plate.

Time slowed and every sensation was amplified. My hair whipped around as I pivoted to see where I’d fall. The rubber of my shoes squeaked as I pushed off the warm asphalt. Air whistled past my ears. My left arm instinctively pushed out as if to stop the assault and was knocked aside in midair, the pain shooting up through my shoulder. The thigh-high weeds scratched at the bare skin on my face, arms and legs, and the firm seedlings dug into me as I fell heavily into the ditch lining the road.

The fall stunned me for a painful moment, and then I realized the driver had slowed as if to evaluate his handiwork. A tiny sob caught in the back of my throat. Would he come back to finish the job?

I tried to still the swaying weeds, watching until the truck drove around the corner, and then I scrambled desperately up the slight rise into the trees, which seemed far too sparse to hide me.

My breathing was now frantic and I held my arm, hurting so much I was convinced it was broken, against my body. The nearest house was across the road, a wild, dangerous space I couldn’t face. Instead I began lurching home, angling through the trees until they broke into farmland. Still, I stayed in the shadows of the trees until I saw my house.

Relief rushed through me as Erica pulled up and parked in front, and I hobbled out into the open.

• • • • • • • • • 

E
rica drove me straight to urgent care. The waiting room was empty except for us, and the Preakness was being replayed on the TV hanging on the wall in the corner.

Nurse Tonya got me in right away to see a doctor, who looked like he was twelve. After an exam and an X-ray he told me my arm wasn’t broken, but bruised badly. It needed to stay in the sling until it stopped hurting.

Tonya brought Leo back. He limped in all worried, until he saw me sitting up with my legs over the side of the exam table. I was banged up but managed a smile for him.

He cleared his throat. “Worst day?”

Tears came to my eyes but I shook my head. “Not yet.”

He sat beside me and gave me a gentle hug. “I woulda been here sooner, but I was up fishing.” I leaned my head on his shoulder, grateful that he wasn’t asking questions.

Erica drove me home, my left arm in a sling, with Leo following on his motorcycle. “Where’s Bean?” I asked, as if I hadn’t been thinking it the whole time.

“In DC for a dinner with his publisher,” she said, her eyes on the road. “I texted him and he said to tell you he was looking forward to writing something obscene on your cast.”

I hid my smile.

“I told him you’d be sorry not to have one.” She had avoided asking any questions other than about how I felt. “So do you think someone hit you on purpose?”

I nodded. “Whoever it was slowed down and then aimed for me.”

She bit her lip. “I think we should listen to everyone and make sure we’re not alone until this is over.”

I nodded and we stayed quiet until we made it home, where Bobby and Detective Lockett waited for us, both of them leaning on the patrol car with their arms crossed.

I groaned when I got out of the car and added a little more to my limp, hoping they’d back off. Bobby looked distressed to see me that way, but the detective’s determined face never changed.

In the living room, I took the most comfortable chair and cushioned my arm on top of a pillow. Leo brought a chair close to me and held on to my other hand.

Lockett took the lead. “What can you tell us about the vehicle that hit you?”

I’d been thinking about that damn truck the whole time I was at the hospital, and still couldn’t come up with anything except that it was one of the larger models and black. Our town had about fifty of those; add in neighboring towns and the number grew astronomically.

“Could you see lettering on the back?” Bobby asked. “Did it have two tires in the back or four?”

When I shook my head, he suggested, “Close your eyes and try to remember.”

I did what I was told, and made a tiny gasp. “The back door was missing.” I opened my eyes. “Four tires.”

“Could you see the license plate?” Lockett asked. “Any of the numbers or letters?”

I shook my head.

A wave of exhaustion swept over me, making me sway in my seat. Even Lockett couldn’t ignore that and he allowed Erica to lead them outside, where they had a brief conversation. Leo stayed long enough for Erica to assure him that she’d take good care of me.

She helped me put on my favorite ripped Orioles shirt and shorts. Before I fell asleep, I asked, “What was that about outside?”

She grimaced. “They want us to stop looking into Denise’s death.”

At the moment, I couldn’t disagree. I fell asleep immediately, but woke up at one in the morning, my shoulder throbbing. My whole body joined in on the complaining when I got out of bed, aching from my leap into the ditch.

I made my way to the kitchen, turning the cow-painted teakettle on and pulling the painkillers out of my purse, all one-handed. A gentle knock sounded on my door, and Bean stuck his head in. “You okay?”

Great. I probably looked like hell. I nodded, giving up the idea of looking even remotely human, let alone normal. “Tea?”

“You sit,” he said. “I’ll make it.” He took a couple of muffins out of the plastic container in the refrigerator and popped them into the toaster oven. “You should eat something when you take those.”

My brain was still cloudy and I stayed quiet while he served my tea and a muffin and sat across from me with his own. “Thanks.”

“In case you’re nervous, or if you need anything,” he said, “I’m sleeping on the couch in the living room for a few nights.”

I blinked at him. “Do you think he’ll come here?”

“I doubt it, but you shouldn’t be alone until they find out who did this.”

I was having a hard time figuring out what I was feeling, like a strong emotion was being held down, wrapped in a big fuzzy blanket.

“Here.” He upended the prescription bottle and handed me a pill.

“Do you agree with the police that we should stop investigating?”

He smiled. “They don’t know you very well, do they?”

I must’ve looked confused, because he explained. “You’re an adventurer.”

His words struck a deep core inside me. No one thought of me that way, not even me.

“How?” I stopped to clear my throat. “What makes you say that?”

“I could say because you started this investigation. Or because you came with me to find Larry, even though you were scared, but it’s not just that. You started your own business from scratch. You wanted stability for Leo, but if that was all, you’d have picked any job. Instead, you took a huge risk and opened your shop. It took a lot of courage.”

I bit my lip, shaking my head and he reached out to grab my hand, his face filled with understanding. “It’s not soldier kind of courage, but it counts. It’s brave. You’re brave.”

I stared into his eyes, and then his other hand gently circled the scratches on my cheek. “These are going to be colorful tomorrow. A badge of courage.” He dropped his hand and got to his feet. “Now back to bed before those drugs knock you out.”

“Is Leo still mad at you?” I asked, as he guided me to my bed with one hand on my arm and the other on my lower back.

“Nah,” he said. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“I’m not going to stop.” My mouth felt like it couldn’t cooperate with my brain.

He nodded, knowing I was talking about the investigation. “Never doubted it.” I crawled into the bed on my hands and knees like a child and he helped me with the tangled covers. I closed my eyes against the cotton-filled air around me. When I opened them for a moment, he was still standing there with a tender expression that made me smile.

• • • • • • • • • 

B
ean must have silenced my cell phone while I was dead to the world, because I didn’t wake up until ten the next morning. Erica had coffee and bagels waiting for me in my kitchen, and had left a note that Kona and Kayla were handling the normal late Sunday opening at eleven.

I’d missed a slew of messages, most of them asking how I was, and Kona’s. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath, but you don’t need to come in. We have enough chocolate to get through the day. Kayla and I will make the caramel after we close so it can cool for tomorrow. Stay home and rest!”

Of course, I didn’t listen.

The only person I called back was Leo, to reassure him that I was fine and going to work. He told me to call him if I needed anything and I insisted he go back to fishing so he didn’t waste his cabin rental. He protested, but I put my foot down. He’d missed out on enough.

I decided against the painkillers, opting for ibuprofen instead. My regular morning routine took a lot longer than usual with only one arm and my body all stiff and sore. But I made it to the shop soon after opening.

Coco was waiting for me, meowing louder than ever when she saw me, as if she knew I was hurt. I spent a long time cuddling with her on the back porch and even came back out to watch her eat from one of the cans of gourmet food I’d bought. She rubbed along my leg as if saying thanks and then hopped off the porch and went on her way.

By early afternoon, I was already tired of everyone asking
how are you feeling
, and
who could have done it
, and
you should be more careful
. Like it was somehow my fault that a truck tried to hit me.

Bruised and limping, I was wiping down tables after the Moms on a Mission group left. They were raising money for an orphanage in Haiti, and unfortunately had toddlers. I always had to wipe down every single surface of the tables and chairs after they left. One time I’d found caramels smashed into the back of a couch, in the shape of a smiley face. How could the moms not have realized so many of my delicious caramels were missing?

If I ignored my pain and the way people looked at me out of the corners of their eyes, the shop seemed almost back to normal. But I couldn’t help thinking about who could have tried to kill me. Our number one suspect, Larry, was dead. Our number two suspect, Opal, had an alibi, as long as being too drunk to kill anyone qualified. Had someone moved up to the top of the list and we didn’t know it? Was someone else out there we weren’t even aware of?

As I picked up newspapers and returned them to the rack at the front of the dining area, I noticed a tall, thin man in oversized sunglasses cupping his hands around his eyes and peering into Denise’s studio. He had a sports jacket on over jeans, and a black T-shirt with a blue scarf artfully thrown around his neck.

I was just about to run out and ask him what the heck he was doing when he pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and came into our shop.

“Can I help you?”

He seemed a little taken aback, either by my beat-up appearance or the suspicion that had sneaked into my usually customer-friendly tone. “I’d like to inquire into the . . . property of your next-door neighbor.”

“Denise?” I asked

“Yes.” He looked a little uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” I said, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “She died recently.”

“Yes, I know. I’m Emberton Dansby,” he said, drawing out the last name in a nasally tone that annoyed me. He paused as if I should know who he was.

I waited.

“Denise was scheduled to meet me on the day she died,” he said.

“Oh, you’re the gallery guy.” I held out my hand. “I’m Michelle.”

“Yes.” His eyebrows drew together as he shook my hand. “Do you know who will be handling her estate, her artwork in particular?”

“No,” I said. “Why? I thought you weren’t interested in her work.”

“That’s not true,” he said. “I was looking forward to meeting with her and learning about her artistry, but she cancelled our appointment.”

I was sure my surprise showed on my face. “She did?”

“Well, I thought she did,” he said. “Someone claiming to be her assistant called and said she needed to reschedule. I thought it was rather unprofessional, but what could I do? Then a few days later the police told me she didn’t have an assistant. It’s all a big mystery.”

“Uh,” I said, suddenly feeling in way over my head. “Hold on.”

I winced as I hurried to find Erica, trying to figure out what this meant. Someone had cancelled Denise’s appointment without her knowledge. Did that someone want to keep her photographs from being seen?

Erica was having an argument with one of the comic book teens about the advantages of holding onto something called “covenant weapons” in a video game, but I had no idea what she was talking about. “You need to come with me.” My voice was urgent.

She apologized to the boy, who ran up the stairs two at a time to join his posse on the second floor. “What’s going on?”

“Denise’s gallery owner is here. He wants to talk to whoever will be handling her ‘effects.’” I resisted using finger quotation marks, mostly so I didn’t have to lift my arm. “And he said Denise’s assistant cancelled their meeting.”

Erica eyes widened in shock. “That could have something to do with her death!”

“I know!” I said. “Let’s figure out how we can use this guy.”