Chocolate Hearts and Murder Page 6

  Um, wow. I really didn’t need that visual of me and Pete Wilkins on a date, thanks. Ew and more ew and oh my god what seed of horror had I planted to come out and give me nightmares later? Grossed out by my own imagination, I hung back, hugging myself while Crew spoke.

  “You’ve never seen this before?” He produced the small vial with a clear skim of oil inside, still cradled in the cloth I’d used to retrieve it. Yeah, Crew. Me. My clue. Well, Petunia’s if credit was going where it was due. I was gratified I seemed to have preserved the evidence as well as possible considering he still used the same napkin to protect it.

  “No, I haven’t.” Simone shook her head with great emphasis, shining crown of hair immobile despite the vigorous gesture. Whereas I’d done almost nothing so far and I felt like Daisy’s well placed pins were letting go, giving up the ghost in the battle against the massiveness that was my hair. I absently rubbed at a spot that was starting to ache from the pressure as she looked up with those huge, dark eyes and bit her lower lip. “Is that what killed him?”

  “Peanut oil,” Crew said, tucking it back into his jacket pocket. “Drizzled on his cake.” He’d either confirmed that by a sniff test before tucking the dessert into the baggie now resting next to the body or was assuming. Considering I didn’t get the impression Crew made assumptions when it came to crime scene investigation, I had to think the former. Now who was guessing? “You were sitting next to him when his dessert was delivered?”

  “Yes, all evening,” Simone said, snuffling while she wiped at her tears. She still looked stunning, like her sister did the few times I’d seen Jazz weep, able to cry and not get that just sobbed her heart out look. Unlike me and my Irish heritage and all the blotchy hideousness that came with a good, solid cry. Instead, she seemed vulnerable and lovely and there was no way she murdered Mason. Not biased or anything. “I can’t deny he was being a total dick. But he was a nice guy under all the swagger, I swear. Until he started drinking.” She looked down, clasping her hands around a used napkin in her lap, mascara and remains of lipstick staining it in spots. “I hated it when he drank.”

  “Tell us what happened,” Crew said, sounding at least a bit sympathetic, though knowing him he was just softening his tone to keep her talking. And talking. I’d stay until he started repeating his questions and move on. Since she wasn’t saying anything incriminating and Dad wasn’t trying to shut her up—Mom either—I let things progress.

  “He was being so mean to everyone tonight, saying horrible things.” She glanced up at me, gestured in my direction. “Even Fee, and that was well before dinner.” Crew glanced at me with that of course I was involved in more ways than one look before turning back to her. Apparently Mason wasn’t the only jerk in attendance tonight. “And then he started hitting on her like he always does.”

  Wow, where did that shift in direction come from? Simone’s anger appeared at last, Jazz’s self-righteous fury all over again. One did not try to muscle in on the Alexander women for fear of the kind of vocal retribution that could cut like a weapon apparently. Well now. Was I mistaken about my friend’s little sister, far too much like Jazz for her own good? I’d seen firsthand just how far she’d go to get back at a cheating partner’s new girl. Watched said new girl dissolve into a puddle of apologetic sobbing while the guy begged forgiveness as Jazz walked away, victorious. A symphony of holy crap what just happened to watch. But did Simone’s temper lean more to murder?

  Oh, Fee, don’t be like that.

  Simone’s fingers tightened on the napkin, the fabric so tight I was sure she’d tear it as she went on, anger fading into hurt. “I just wished he didn’t have to do it in front of me all the time.”

  “He had a thing for Ava?” Crew sat forward, voice prodding Simone who stared at the young woman in question across the room like she blamed her for everything.

  “Ever since Ava saved him at the party last year,” Simone said. “He’s been obsessed with her. But Ava and Ethan have been together since high school. She’s always turned Mason down.”

  Didn’t keep her from sounding bitter about it.

  “How long have you and Mason been dating?” Crew scratched a few words on his notepad, leaning back again. Definitely settling in for a nice, long session. I hoped Simone’s anger would show up at some point and give him a ride.

  “A month,” Simone said. “He’s been really lovely all along. Until tonight.”

  Good at hiding who he really was, I suppose. “Simone,” I said, “you must have known he wasn’t who you thought. If you were friends for so long, you saw the truth of how he acted.”

  She shrugged, tried a little smile. “You sound like Jasmine,” she said. “But I saw good in him, too, Fee. And when he asked, how could I turn him down? Everyone wanted to date Mason, even if it always ended in heartbreak.”

  Well, you couldn’t argue against money and looks and a short stint of whirlwind romance. Or could you?

  “Simone, where’s Mason’s injector pen?” Crew’s question caught her off guard and she jerked upright.

  “Here!” She tugged open her bag, presented it to him. “I used it as soon as I realized what was happening.” Her hand shook, the pen dropping from her fingers. He was fast enough to catch it before it hit the floor while she hugged her purse to her chest. “It all just went so quickly. I thought he was messing around, being a clown. When I finally realized he was dying, that it wasn’t a joke…” She shuddered and more tears fell, a long inhale necessary for her to speak again. “I used it, I swear. But it didn’t help him and I don’t know why.”

  “Empty.” Crew examined it another moment before tucking it into his jacket. “Did it dispense?”

  “I have no idea.” She sagged again, Mom patting her shoulder. “I’ve never used one before so I didn’t know what to expect. But I tried.” And then she dissolved into weeping again while Crew sighed and looked down at his notes, clearly ready to start all over again.

  The exact moment the room went utterly dark.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  Someone screamed when the power went out, red beacons flashing into existence as emergency lights flared to life in response to the loss of electricity. I stumbled over Petunia, looking down to find her glistening eyes appearing as my vision adjusted.

  “Everyone stay calm.” Dad’s voice carried, followed by Crew’s.

  “Please remain where you are until your eyesight acclimates,” the sheriff said, sounding exactly like my father. “The storm may have knocked out the power.” He turned to me. “Fee, can you go check and see when the generators will kick in? Otherwise we need an alternate source of light.”

  I nodded, bending to scoop Petunia into my arms and hurried toward the doors. At least the space was easy to navigate even in the dark, the tables in an orderly layout that left me a clear path to the exit. I was just passing through the big doors when I almost ran right into Olivia.

  I’d never seen panic in her eyes before. “We have to do something,” she said. “This is a disaster, Fiona!” Her pale dress appeared ghastly in the reddish glow, horror movie worthy, olive skin demonic. Didn’t help how her eyes bulged like that.

  “It’ll be fine,” I said in my most soothing tone, depositing my chubby pug into her arms. Petunia licked Olivia’s face, the mayor snuggling my dog in a way that told me she’d needed a bit of comfort and realigned my thinking about our dear leader. Anyone who Petunia liked—and who liked her back—was a good person at heart. “Come with me, we’ll see if the generators are working.”

  The girl behind the desk wasn’t around, leaving me frustrated and leading a nervous Olivia Walker behind me while she rhythmically patted the pug over and over again. I had a fear of heights so I could only imagine the mayor’s reaction was something similar, possibly a phobia of the dark. I slipped around the counter and peeked into the back but no one was around. Just a heavy coat with snow still on the collar and a pair of winter boots dripping on the carpet. Someone had been
outside. To check the generators? No, the snow was already melting. The owner of the coat couldn’t have been that fast.

  I turned and squeaked in nervousness to find Olivia followed me, both her and Petunia staring with bugging eyes, the red emergency lights reinforcing her demon appearance, only now my pug looked possessed, too. At that moment, the lights flickered overhead and came back on, though dim enough at first to tell me the power hadn’t been restored but that the generators were working at least.

  Olivia instantly transformed, clearing her throat, handing me Petunia. And grasped my elbow in a claw like grip. “You tell no one of what you’ve just seen,” she said.

  “Nothing to tell,” I said.

  The mayor straightened her dress, squared her shoulders and marched out of the office, leaving me with a bemused Petunia and my own amusement. I set the pug on the floor and went to the desk, the farting creature following me with her nose to the ground in case there were precious snacks she might uncover. I let her scrounge, hoping the worst she could snuffle up wouldn’t hurt her, finding it weird to be on the other side of the counter looking out. A quick check of the phone line gave me dead air and the TV behind me showed static, the satellite feed out. I was pretty sure if I made it upstairs and checked my phone I’d have trouble with cell reception, too.

  Stupid storm. Worst timing ever.

  I bent to lift Petunia again, her hunt unsuccessful, and froze, the sound of a door opening and closing at the other side of the office catching my attention.

  “I’m telling you,” a man’s deep, guttural voice said, obviously continuing a conversation he’d started before entering the room, “one of the snowmobiles is missing from the shed. We should tell that sheriff it’s been stolen.”

  “I doubt it’s stolen.” I didn’t know that voice and peeked inside. A woman in a black suit with a nametag looked harried, her short, red hair spiked as if she’d been running her hands through it. Management? “And the sheriff has enough to worry about, Bill. Just leave it for now. One of those damned kids probably borrowed it and left it out in the snow.”

  He grunted, towering over her, the man from the bathroom hallway in the maintenance clothing. He looked up, caught me watching, and gestured. The woman turned toward me while he retreated. She spun when he left her, calling after him.

  “Just keep those generators running!” She twirled back, smile on her face, hand extended toward me. “Employees only, ma’am. You’ll have to go now.”

  “Fiona Fleming,” I said. “I’m assisting with the investigation. You are?”

  She hesitated before continuing her attempt to guide me out of the staff room. “Donna Walker, general manager. Now, if you’ll excuse me?”

  I found myself out from behind the counter and her bustling off, my pug in my arms and a missing snowmobile on my mind. I crossed back to the dining room and the continuing questioning of Simone. Confirmation that Crew hadn’t listened and that he was hell bent on following his own procedure no matter how silly it seemed under the circumstances.

  Oh well, who was I to judge? For all I knew his endless questioning and generally irritating behavior might drive the killer around the bend so far they had to confess just to get him to shut up. Sure, right, that was logical. Not.

  I pondered my next steps, gaze falling on the posse seated across the room, Dad observing them. They were in line, I guess, to see Crew. Had my father questioned them already or was he waiting to see what the new sheriff would do? I loved my dad but was he above letting Crew dig himself an embarrassing hole just to prove a point? Um, Fleming. Right.

  “Mom.” I turned to her, Petunia sagging in my grip, way past her nap time.

  “Don’t say another word.” She held out her arms, far enough from Crew and Simone we had privacy but close enough I knew my friend wasn’t alone, not really. The sheriff might have asked my mother to step away, but her eagle eyes were locked on my friend and there was no way she’d let him bully Simone past her limits. “Go see what your father’s uncovered.” She caught me staring—okay, glowering—at Crew and Simone and reached out to take my hand. I looked down, feeling my stiffness as a reaction to my protective nature ease a little under the weight of her calm, green gaze. “She’ll be all right, Fee,” Mom said.

  She’d better be. I left my mother with the grunting, farting creature, feeding her bits off someone’s dinner plate, and made a straight line to Ava name who stood hugging herself, her off-the-rack black dress no match for Simone’s sparkly attire. Yet, the young woman had nothing of deceit in her as she stared at the now draped body of her friend, Mason, laid out on the stage with a tablecloth covering him.

  “You saved his life, you said.” I jumped in without preamble. “Used your own injection pen to do it.”

  She shrugged at me, turning away from the lump that had been Mason Patterson. “I didn’t think, just acted. My dad’s a doctor and I’ve wanted to be one since I was a kid. At least, until recently, I thought I did.” She cleared her throat before turning her pretty hazel eyes on me. “It was one of those instinctual things, you know? I saw him choking, turning blue, knew what was happening—I’d had it happen to me and knew the symptoms—and just jabbed him.” She mimicked the action with one fist, up and then plunging down like she was stabbing herself in the thigh. The intense look on her face gave me a moment of worry before she shook her head and tossed her hands.

  “You were friends at the time you saved him?” I wasn’t doubting her sincerity, but her boyfriend’s unhappiness was tied to this so I needed to dig deeper.

  Ava shrugged halfheartedly. “Not really. Mason always had girls hanging around him but mostly he was friends with Noah and, through him, Ethan. It was the first time he seemed to notice me.” She glanced sideways at Ethan and I put some things together.

  “And after that he noticed?” She nodded while I went on. “And Ethan noticed him noticing.” Another nod, a faint smile. “Was Mason’s attention welcome?”

  She shook her head this time, but sadly. “I wasn’t into him, not at all.” That sounded authentic and so was the shudder of disgust on her face. “Mason wasn’t my type.”

  “What, you’re not into handsome, rich guys who are utter dicks to everyone around them?” We shared a little laugh at that, though she instantly looked guilty. “It’s okay,” I said. “I have a feeling Mason would be laughing with us before firing off his own volley.”

  She grinned, then relaxed. “He had his occasional good moments,” she said, as if trying too hard to speak kindly of him before she sighed. “And his incredibly cruel ones.” She bit her lower lip then leaned closer, whispering. “Ethan should be teaching skiing, not Noah. He’s twice the athlete and a better instructor and Mason knew it.”

  “But when you all showed up for jobs at the lodge?” It wasn’t hard to figure out what happened to the guy who was dating the girl Mason wanted. Not when that same guy was in a waiter uniform and his rival under a sheet.

  “He gave Noah the teaching gig and made Ethan wear an apron.” She didn’t sound happy telling me this, but it didn’t stop her. “And we had no choice by then. We all sold our stuff and gave up our apartments and our second semester of college this term because Mason made us such a great offer. And he honored every promise.”

  “Except the one he made to Ethan.” I’d be pissed off. Not only did the asshole shaft him the job he promised, Mason was hitting on Ethan’s girlfriend on a regular basis.

  Ava’s face twisted like she fought tears. “Something like that.”

  “Ava.” I already knew she wasn’t guilty, but I had to ask anyway, though Crew likely had. “You were one person from Mason, only Simone between the two of you. Why didn’t you use your injector pen again?”

  She looked like I’d stabbed her in the heart. “I didn’t notice what happened until it was too late,” she said, choking on tears that spilled from her big, hazel eyes. “I swear, I would have. And I should have had time.” I nodded. Three minutes or so. A mystery we might
not get an answer to until the autopsy. “Simone was leaning in, trying to keep him from talking to me. She’s so much taller, she blocked my view. And then she was shaking him and screaming and it was too late.” Tears welled, her lashes blinking against them, voice thickening in genuine regret. “I’m so sorry. I would have, I honestly would. It’s a horrible way to die.”

  I hugged her, feeling terribly for her, but believing her. And even more inclined toward Ethan than ever.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  I guided Ava to the bathroom and left her there to clean herself up. She had nothing to do with the murder, I was certain of that. Why save a guy a year ago only to kill him now, especially when she had zero reason to and others far more motive? Like her boyfriend, case in point. Well, he needed a good digging into. Which led me to the left of the hallway instead of the right, down the corridor toward the kitchen rather than returning to the lobby.

  The big, swinging door with the round window revealed stainless steel and appliances on the other side. I had the right place. Should have brought Mom with me, she would have loved a peek at the big, industrial space with tall ceilings and massive banks of ovens on one wall, a real brick pizza oven in one corner, cooler doors at the far end and long, metal tables with racks overhead for prep dividing it into sections. I’d done enough waitering myself over the years I could identify the breakdown and headed toward the very back and the office door there.

  I found Carol Chaney in her office, the space crowded with boxes of goods and piled with invoices. She sat with her head in her hands, tiny and silent and so still I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Her staff had gone, nowhere to be found, obviously sent to their rooms. Dad was doing a better job than me following Crew’s orders. Or more likely had his own plan of attack for the investigation and was clearing those he thought unconnected to the crime.