Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry (30 page)

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Skye got up and went over to a portable blackboard someone had stored in her office. She’d asked the custodian to remove it, but hadn’t bugged him enough yet to stir him to action. For now she’d put it to good use.

She picked up a piece of chalk and began to outline. “The first thing that happened is that Wally’s dad decides to look into acquiring Fine Foods. He’ll buy it only if the company has a good reputation, so he comes to town in disguise during the cooking contest—their biggest PR event—to check that out.”

Trixie nodded. “Number one: The sale of the factory hinges on its good name.”

“Second, the Friday morning before the contestants get to the factory, Ashley runs away from her abductor in the Fine Foods parking lot and has not been seen again.”

Trixie grabbed a foil-wrapped candy egg. “Number two: Does Ashley get inside despite the security measures you mentioned, and if so, is she still there?”

“Third, the contest has an unusual number of problems this year. The practice round is sabotaged. Jared and Grandma Sal’s private argument is broadcast on the PA, doors that were supposed to be locked aren’t, and to top it off, a woman is murdered.” Skye paused, thinking. “Not to
mention, who in his or her right mind would think Glenda Doozier’s cooking is worthy of finaling?”

“Number three: Someone knew Carson Boyd was here watching the contest. Knew he wouldn’t go through with the deal if Fine Foods ended up looking bad, and so this person made sure that it did.”

“That’s it!” Skye jerked as if she’d been zapped by a cattle prod. “Wally and I have been thinking that Cherry was murdered because she had something on the company that would ruin its reputation, but it’s the opposite. I’ll bet she caught someone sabotaging the contest, and that person killed her to keep her quiet.”

Trixie licked the chocolate from her fingers. “So who wouldn’t want the company sold?”

Skye wrote a list of names on the board. “Jared and Tammy can’t wait for it to sell. If I remember my brief conversation with Brandon and JJ, both of them don’t like it here at Scumble River either, so that only leaves Grandma Sal and maybe all the factory workers, if they’re afraid for their jobs.”

“Isn’t Grandma Sal a little old to be lifting bodies into chocolate fountains?”

“She may be in her late seventies, but she’s a big, strong woman who could probably outrun me in a race, maybe even you if it was an endurance event.” Skye bit her lip. “The big question is, would she be willing to make her own company look bad in order to keep it? And since she owns the majority percentage, why would she have to?”

“Yeah. As Nancy Reagan used to urge, she could just say no.” Trixie pursed her mouth. “On the other hand, would anyone outside the family know about the terms of the sale? The employees might know CB International is interested in buying Fine Foods, but would they know the one thing that would stop the sale?”

“Good question.”

Trixie and Skye sat in silence as they tried to think of another suspect.

Finally, when neither of them could come up with anything new, Trixie jumped up from her seat. “I’d better get
home. There’s a pile of laundry with my name on it. And I need to stop at the grocery store. Owen will be looking for his supper at five on the dot, and I don’t have a thing to cook.”

Skye waved good-bye to her friend, then closed her eyes and thought about what she and Trixie had discovered.
Hmm.
If Grandma Sal was not a suspect—and since she could stop the deal simply by refusing to sign the papers, she didn’t look likely—that meant maybe she’d agree to answer a few questions. It was only three thirty, and she might still be at the factory.

A quick phone call verified that Skye was in luck. Mrs. Fine wasn’t officially there, but she had stopped by to sign some papers. However, she was leaving in an hour, and although she was willing to talk to Skye, Skye needed to arrive within fifteen minutes.

While dialing the police station, Skye hurriedly packed up her tote bag. The dispatcher said that Wally was out, but had left a message that he hadn’t been able to secure permission to search the factory and would stop by her house when he got off work at five. Skye left him a message saying she was going to talk to Grandma Sal, and would try to change the older woman’s mind about giving them permission to look for Ashley.

Wishing she and Wally had stuck to their plan and gone to buy cell phones yesterday, Skye got into her car and headed toward the factory. As she drove, she fingered the container of pepper spray in her blazer pocket, wondering if she was making a bad move. If she was wrong, and Grandma Sal was the killer, Skye could end up looking very stupid … and possibly very dead.

E
ntering Grandma Sal’s office, Skye was taken aback at both the decor and Grandma Sal herself. Instead of the sweet old lady she had met at the cooking contest, whose image was on all the products, a well-dressed, attractive woman sat behind a sleek chrome-and-glass desk.

Gone were the gray curls, the wire-rimmed glasses, the flowered dress, and the old-fashioned hat. Instead Grandma Sal’s hair was now ash blond and styled in a smooth French twist. She wore a stylish pink Chanel suit with matching high-heeled pumps.

Skye stood staring while the secretary announced her.

Even after Grandma Sal looked up and said, “What can I do for you, dear?” Skye was speechless.

The older woman prodded, “A lot of people are surprised when they see the real Sally Fine, after meeting ‘Grandma Sal.’ I only dress like a little old lady for public appearances.”

“Oh, of course.” Skye’s cheeks flamed. “I understand completely.”

“I’m so sorry we had your name wrong throughout the contest. I assure you we’ll get the spelling fixed on your plaque, and it will be correct on your check.”

“Thank you. It’s an unusual name. I completely understand the mix-up.”

“Then I take it you’re here for another reason. Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” Skye sat in one of the leather-and-chrome visitor’s chairs, put her tote bag by her feet, and craned her neck to look around a huge rolling pin-shaped trophy that was directly in front of her.

“Go ahead and move that thing over.” Mrs. Fine blew out an exasperated breath. “I can’t quite figure out what to do with it. Fine Foods won it for having the most homemade-tasting packaged foods.”

Skye reached out her right hand to shove the prize to the side, and was surprised by the weight of the marble award. Grunting a little as she pushed, she said, “I’m here as the police department’s psychological consultant.”

“Is there news about Ms. Alexander’s unfortunate death?”

“Well, we have put some pieces of the puzzle together, but still haven’t quite found that final part—the name of the murderer. Which is why I wanted to talk to you.”

“You think there’s something I can do to help?”

“I hope so.” Skye wrinkled her brow, choosing her words carefully. “Once we learned about CB International’s interest in Fine Foods, and the fact that they would buy the company only if it had an exemplary reputation, we figured that whoever killed Cherry did so to stop the sale of the business.”

“No.” Mrs. Fine toyed with her Montblanc pen. “I don’t believe that for one minute.”

As Skye tried to decide the best way to respond to the older woman’s denial, she was startled by a loud whistle. “What was that?”

Mrs. Fine put down the pen and smiled, seemingly relieved at the interruption. “It’s just quitting time.”

“Right.” Skye nodded to herself. “You don’t run an evening shift anymore.”

“Not for quite some time. That’s one of the reasons it would have been good for us to sell to CB International.
They would have expanded our sales by three or four times, and we could have gone back to running around the clock.”

Skye filed that piece of info away, then asked, “Who was familiar with the conditions of the transaction with CB?”

“The only ones who knew about their stipulations were the family.” Mrs. Fine paled under her artfully applied makeup. “The only ones with anything to gain or lose are Fines.”

“Would any of the workers not want the factory sold?”

“They were all assured that no one would lose their jobs, and, in fact, it was highly likely that more positions would be created.”

“In that case,
who
didn’t want the transaction to be completed?”

“No one.” Mrs. Fine’s voice cracked. “I was the only one who was the least bit against the sale, and Jared and JJ convinced me it was for the best.”

“What about Brandon and Tammy?”

“They don’t have a say in the matter. Tammy has nothing to do with the company, and Brandon is only Jared’s stepson. Although we allow him to use the Fine name, Tammy had Brandon before she married Jared. He was already six months old at the time of their wedding.”

“Jared never adopted Brandon?”

“No, not officially. Brandon and Tammy aren’t really Fines. My husband left fifty-five percent of the company to me, thirty percent to Jared, and fifteen percent to JJ. He felt strongly that only blood relations should own Fine Foods.” Mrs. Fine closed her eyes, lines of pain etched in her forehead. “Which is why I didn’t want to sell it to CB International.”

Skye refrained from pointing out that Mrs. Fine wasn’t a Fine by blood either, and instead asked, “If the company is sold, would Tammy and Brandon get a share then?”

“Well, Tammy would have access to Jared’s money, but I doubt Jared or JJ would give any significant amount to Brandon. They just aren’t that close. And I’m leaving all my money to the Fine Foundation for the Arts.”

Interesting family dynamics, not that Skye was surprised.
After several years as a school psychologist, she’d seen a lot worse. “So, you can’t think of anyone who had anything to gain or lose if the company was sold?” She knew she was on the right track and was frustrated that she couldn’t figure out what she was missing.

“No, but I’ll think about it and give you a call if something comes to me.”

“Thank you.” Skye pushed back her chair and grabbed her tote bag; then as she got up she remembered Ashley, and asked, “I know you’ve already said no, but is there anything I can say that will convince you to reconsider, and allow us to search the factory for the missing girl?”

“What missing girl?”

Skye explained, ending with, “So the last time she was seen was outside your factory.”

“No one told me about this. Of course you can search for her.” Mrs. Fine rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. “I can’t imagine how she’d get in here or why she’d stay, but feel free to look around.”

“That’s wonderful. Can I do it right now?”

“Certainly.” Mrs. Fine reached into a black lacquer box on the desk and took out a key. “I have to leave for an appointment in the city, so you’ll need this master to look around and to get out—the guards lock up when everyone goes home for the night.”

“Everyone’s already gone?” Skye looked at her watch. It was only four thirty.

“The building empties out fast once the whistle blows. Even the guards are gone by this time.”

“You don’t have twenty-four-hour security?”

“Not inside the building. They have a booth near the gate and patrol the perimeter of the property.”

“Oh.” Skye nodded. “What should I do with the key once I let myself out?”

“You can drop it off tomorrow.”

Mrs. Fine walked with Skye as far as the lobby. “If you need to use the phone, the only one that works after hours is the one in my office. Help yourself.” She waved, unlocked the front door, and left.

Skye paused to figure out what to do next, then decided the best course of action was to return to Mrs. Fine’s office and call the PD for help with the search. The factory was just too big, with too many nooks and crannies to look through all by herself.

As she walked back, she read the nameplates on the doors she passed. Jared’s office was closest to the front, then the business office, then the legal department, then …

She stopped and stared at the door. Suddenly the memory of what Pru Cormorant had said, added to what Mrs. Fine had just revealed, and what she and Trixie had figured out about the killer coalesced and she blurted out, “That’s it! Brandon killed Cherry because—”

Before she could finish her thought, someone grabbed her arm and she shrieked. Brandon Fine loomed at her side, a scowl on his face. Had he heard her? She had to quit talking out loud to herself—a habit she had picked up since adopting Bingo.

She quickly ran through various mental scenarios and decided that if he hadn’t heard her, maybe she could distract him. “Uh, hi, Brandon. I, um, was just getting permission from your grandmother to search for a missing teenager.”

“Shut up!” His fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arm, and her tote bag thumped against her hip. “I thought you were supposed to be so smart. Who do you think turned down the cops in the first place?”

“Oh.” Great, he wasn’t just the murderer; he had something to do with Ashley’s disappearance as well. “Anyway, your grandma said yes, and the cops will be here any minute, so I’d better get to the door to let them in before they break it down.” Skye’s laugh was forced.