Chocolate To Die For Read online

  “I called out Bob Jones, the plumber, because the council says I have to remove this outdoor toilet. He was fully booked, so he said he could come after hours. I got here at seven, and he had already started. At ten, I thought he’d been here a long time, so I came out. Someone ran through the gate and knocked me over. Then I found him like that.” My breath came in gasps.

  I turned around and pointed to Bob, and then wished I hadn’t. “Then I called you,” I said, looking the other way. “Oh, when I went up to him, his legs were sticking outside the dunny door, and his head was inside the toilet. I saw lots and lots of redback spiders all over it and I didn’t know if he was dead, so I pulled him out to get clear of them and then I realised he was dead. I’m sorry I disturbed the evidence, but I didn’t know if he was dead or not.” I spoke rapidly, in short bursts. My palms were sweaty and my face was hot.

  “You did the right thing,” the sergeant said. “As you said, you didn’t know if he was alive or not. You did the right thing,” he said again. He looked over as the paramedics wheeled Bob Jones away with a sheet covering his face. “Did you see who knocked you over?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t even tell you if it was a man or a woman. It all happened so fast. Whoever it was knocked me over really hard, though.” I showed them my grazed palms and my bleeding elbow.

  “Do you need an ambulance?’ Sergeant Smith asked me.

  I shook my head. “No, my elbow hurts like crazy, but it’s only superficial.”

  “What is your name, address, and date of birth?”

  I had just finished giving the sergeant my details when the Senior Constable came back. “There are a lot of redback spiders in that dunny,” he said.

  “Yes, I’ve never seen so many in one place. Do you think that’s natural?” I asked him.

  “Natural?” Sergeant Smith said.

  “I mean, do you think he was murdered? Someone knocked me over, and this is private property.”

  Sergeant Smith scratched his head. “His wallet was in his pocket, and it’s stuffed full of cash, so it wasn’t a robbery.”

  I was shocked at the officers’ apparent reticence to accept the possibility of murder. “Someone was fleeing from a dead body,” I pointed out.

  Sergeant Smith stepped closer to me. “We can’t jump to conclusions, Ms Myers. Perhaps the person was frightened by seeing the body.”

  “I suppose so, but no one should have been there.”

  Sergeant Smith shrugged. “Maybe it was someone bringing him some tools. It’s too early to know.”

  “But the redback spiders!” I protested. “There were redback spiders on his clothes when I pulled him out.”

  The officers exchanged glances. “Redback spider bites can make you awfully sick, but I don’t think an adult has been killed by one for decades now,” Sergeant Smith said.

  The Senior Constable shook his head. “No, there were reports of an adult being killed by one recently.”

  Sergeant Smith rubbed his chin. “I suppose it’s not as if it was just one redback spider,” he said. “No doubt he had multiple bites which proved fatal. There were dozens of them. I do find it strange, because they usually hide under wood and don’t run over the top of things like they’re doing in there now.”

  “He must’ve disturbed a big nest of them when he started to dig up the floorboards,” the Senior Constable said. “It’s so dark in there, that he mustn’t have noticed the redbacks. They’re not aggressive, so he probably touched a few when he put his hand in.”

  Sergeant Smith agreed. “And their bites actually don’t hurt. I mean, the actual bite itself doesn’t hurt, although the after-effects are extremely painful. He might not have realised he was bitten at first, and they kept biting him.”

  “I know,” I said with a shudder. “I was bitten by a redback spider when I was a teenager. I actually stepped on it, and it bit me on the ball of my foot. It just felt like stepping on a bindi, and I wouldn’t have known I’d been bitten by redback if I hadn’t seen it under my foot. I didn’t feel a thing for a full five minutes, but then I had the most dreadful pain that lasted for hours.”

  Carl appeared at that moment, making a beeline for me. His face was white and drawn. “What happened? Are you all right, Narel?”

  I nodded, and Carl put his arm around me. “This is my friend, Carl Camden,” I said to the police officers. “I called him after I called you.” I quickly filled in Carl on the situation.

  “So he was killed by redbacks?” Carl asked incredulously.

  Senior Constable Walters shrugged. “We’ll inform the detectives, and they’ll take it from there. But for now, that’s how we’re treating it. Stan, have a look around, will you?”

  “So I shouldn’t call another plumber to remove that toilet just yet?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “Perhaps not for a day or two. We’ll let you know. Meanwhile, steer well clear of the vicinity, just in case.”

  “Just in case of what?” I asked him.

  “Just in case it does turn out to be a crime scene.”

  “Hey!” Sergeant Smith hurried over to us, holding up a small plastic bag, in which was a syringe. “It’s a syringe,” he explained, somewhat unnecessarily. “It was over where Ms Myers says she was knocked over.”

  “The murderer must’ve dropped it when he bumped into me,” I said.

  “Like Sergeant Smith said, we can’t jump to any conclusions,” Senior Constable Walters said. “The syringe might have been lying there for some time. We won’t know until we have it analysed. It could have been thrown there by some random drug user.”

  “Surely there are no random drug users in town?” I asked him.

  He shot me a pitying look.

  Chapter 3

  I unlocked my front door. “Thanks so much for following me home, Carl. I’m in a state of shock.”

  “Your elbow needs bandaging. If I didn’t come here, you would’ve had to come to my place, and I didn’t want you to spoil my lovely white carpet.” He gave me the ghost of a smile.

  “A few Band-Aids will do. I need sugar. I think I’m going into shock.” I flung myself on my sofa, careful to keep my elbow clear of the fabric. Mongrel walked over and looked at me. I reached down to stroke him with my good arm, but he lost interest and stalked back into his cat carrier basket.

  Carl left the room, soon to return with a packet of Band-Aids and a bottle of wine. “I don’t feel like wine,” I told him.

  He waved one hand at me in dismissal. “This is for me. Now be quiet. Let me fix you up, and then I’ll make you some hot chocolate and fix you a snack.”

  I did as I was told, wincing when Carl applied tea tree oil to my elbow. He gently dabbed it dry and then stuck several Band-Aids over the top. He reached for my grazed palms, but I pulled my hands away. “I don’t want tea tree oil on my hands! It will sting.”

  Carl sighed. “Okay then, I’ll make you some hot chocolate. What would you like for a snack?”

  “I think I still have some chocolate blueberry clafoutis in the fridge. Could you put a few marshmallows in my hot chocolate, please?”

  “How many?”

  I shrugged. “Five?”

  No sooner had Carl left the kitchen than there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” I called out. I had expected it to be the police officers, but I opened the door to see Tom. I gasped, partly because I was surprised to see him, and partly because he always set my heart racing.

  Tom looked me up and down. “Narel, are you all right? I called, but you didn’t answer, so I got worried. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

  “My phone’s been turning itself to silent lately,” I said breathlessly. I opened the door wider for him. “Come in.”

  Carl came out of the kitchen. “Tom! What are you doing here?” He apparently thought his remark was somewhat abrupt, so quickly added, “Would you like a glass of wine? Some hot chocolate?”

  “Some hot chocolate would be nice, thanks.” During the excha
nge, I had gone to sit on the sofa, and Tom walked over to sit next to me.

  “So you heard what happened?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “It’s all over town. A few people put posts on Facebook about it. They said a murderer knocked you over.”

  “The police don’t know if it was a murderer,” Carl said as he sailed into the room. He handed me a steaming mug and then handed one to Tom.

  “That’s right,” I said. “The police think it was accidental death by redback spiders.”

  Tom’s jaw dropped open. “You’re kidding! What happened?”

  I braced myself to explain for one more time that night. “Bob Jones, the plumber…” I began, but Tom interrupted me.

  “That really expensive plumber who overcharges?”

  “I told you!” Carl’s tone was triumphant.

  I glared at him, and continued. “Bob Jones had to come out after hours to turn off the water to the outdoor dunny. The council said I have to demolish it,” I said as an aside. “Anyway, I waited in the shop for him, but he was gone a long time so I went out to check. You know that big wooden gate to the courtyard around the side?”

  Tom nodded.

  “Well, I was just about to open it when someone rushed through it and knocked me over. I grazed my palms on the gravel, and banged my elbow on the wall.” I showed him my palms and then showed him my Band-Aid laden elbow.

  “You have a cut on your head,” Tom said, gently brushing my hair aside with one finger. Hot tingles ran through me at his touch.

  “Oh, I missed that.” Carl jumped up and loomed over me with a Band-Aid.

  I pushed Carl away. “I’m not putting a Band-Aid on my face. Anyway, Tom, then I thought it must’ve been Bob who had pushed me, so I went back to the street, but his ute was still there and there was no sign of him.”

  Tom held up a hand. “Wait. You didn’t see who did it?”

  I shook my head. “No. I didn’t see anything about the person, gender, height, clothes. You name it, and I don’t know it. Anyway, then I went to see if Bob was still in the dunny. He was face forward with his head in the toilet and there were redback spiders all over him and all over the seat.”

  “What? You mean more than one?” Tom asked me.

  “Hundreds,” I said and then quickly amended that to, “Dozens. Lots of them. Anyway, more than I’ve ever seen at one time.”

  Tom stroked his chin. “That’s highly unusual.”

  I nodded. “I think someone murdered him. I think someone brought in a bottle of redback spiders and put them all over him.”

  “That can’t be right, Narel,” Carl said, sipping his wine. “He would notice if someone dumped a big bottle of redback spiders all over him. It’s not the kind of thing you’d miss. They’re not aggressive, so they wouldn’t have bitten him unless he touched them.”

  I thought about it for a moment. “Well, maybe they put them under the floorboards knowing he would put his hands in there to remove the floor. Okay, I know that sounds lame, but I’m sure he was murdered. I just know it.”

  “And you said the police weren’t sure if it was a murder?” Tom asked me.

  “No, and that’s the strange thing. It should be obvious it was a murder, because the person who knocked me over was fleeing the scene of the crime.”

  “Maybe it was someone coming to speak to Bob, and then when they saw him like that, they got such a fright that they ran away.”

  I frowned at Tom. “Yes, that’s what the police said.”

  “Narel, I don’t like it at all.” Creases formed around the corners of Tom’s eyes. “If the murderer thinks you could identify him, then you could be in danger.”

  Carl put down his wine glass with a thud. “If it was a murder, then I have to agree with Tom, Narel. You could be in danger.”

  I looked up at Carl. “I thought you said it wasn’t a murder?”

  He shrugged. “I actually don’t know what to think, to tell you the truth. If he’d been shot or stabbed or something like that, then of course I would think it was a murder. However, who would murder someone with lots of redback spiders? If I intended to murder someone with redback spiders, then I’d tip them over the victim when he was asleep.”

  “Perhaps they wanted to make it look like an accident, and everyone knows there are redback spiders in outdoor dunnies,” I said. “For goodness’ sake Carl, there’s even that famous song about it, Redback on the Toilet Seat.”

  “That was before my time,” Carl said with a wave of dismissal.

  Tom looked at his watch. “I’d better get on home. Sorry once again for dropping by so late, Narel. I was worried about you.”

  My knees went weak and I felt all gooey inside. “Um, err, it was great to see you,” I said lamely. I glared at Carl who was barely managing to smother a giggle.

  Tom stood up. “Can you stay at Carl’s tonight, or Carl stay with you?” he asked with concern. “Carl, maybe you could stay here just in case it was murder and the perpetrator thinks Narel could identify him.”

  Carl’s face went white. “Do you really think Narel is in any danger?”

  Tom shrugged. “I don’t know, but I think it’s wise to take precautions, just in case.” He turned to me. “Give me a call or text me later and let me know what’s going on. I’ll drop by your shop first thing in the morning to make sure you’re okay.”

  I let Tom out and then turned to Carl who was making kissing motions into thin air. “I thought he’d ask you back to his place so he could protect you,” Carl said with a chuckle.

  I had hoped the same thing, but I would never admit it. “Carl, do you really think I’m in danger?”

  Carl’s expression turned serious. “I don’t know. Maybe the person who knocked you over really was frightened and was running away because they saw that Bob was dead. I suppose we won’t know anything until the police tell us.”

  “Why don’t you ask your best buddy, Detective Clyde?” I said, relishing the chance to get my own back. I blew air kisses.

  Carl’s face turned bright red.

  Chapter 4

  I had a sleepless night, tossing and turning, wondering if the murderer would think I could identify him. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I had convinced myself that the person who knocked me over was, in fact, the murderer.

  Carl had gone home to fetch Louis the Fourteenth and had stayed the night in my spare room. I awoke early, turned on my coffee machine, and then went back to my ensuite bathroom to have a shower. By the time I returned to the coffee machine fully dressed and ready for work, Carl was already drinking coffee.

  “Narel, you really have to buy a new house ASAP,” he said by way of greeting.

  I raised my eyebrows. “You didn’t sleep well?”

  Carl took another gulp of coffee. “No. I can smell mould in that room. Do you know what a health hazard mould is? Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there. And worse still, the decorating is horrendous. Have you even been in that room lately?” He shook his head. “And I couldn’t sleep with the window open in case the murderer climbed through to get me. Even Louis the Fourteenth had a rough sleep.”

  He gestured to his white Persian cat who was daintily selecting one piece of dried cat food at a time before consuming it. In contrast, an unholy sound emanated from the living room. It sounded like a mass murder taking place to the accompaniment of brass instruments. “I see, or rather hear, that you’ve already fed Mongrel his breakfast,” I said. “Thanks for that.”

  Carl shrugged one shoulder. “Why isn’t your house on the market yet? Do you see this house as a security blanket?”

  I thought about it for a minute. “No, I don’t think I do. It’s just I really haven’t had time, what with getting the shop going and then starting my online chocolate business. That takes a lot of work, you know. I have to look into packaging that will keep the chocolates cold and stuff like that. There’s a lot of work in that alone, so it’s harder than just starting a normal online
business.” I thought some more, and then added, “I suppose I just can’t face the hassle.”

  Carl raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You mean the hassle of selling this house and then buying another?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’ve had my bathroom redone ready for sale, as you know. It’s going to be such a hassle having to keep the house spotless all the time when people come to see it, and what will I do with Mongrel? I’ll have to make sure that any potential buyers aren’t wearing or carrying rope. And then there’s all the hassle of going to open homes and seeing all unsuitable houses, and all the time it takes to look, plus the open home times are usually when my shop’s open on a Saturday morning.”

  “I’m sure Tom can give you a private viewing.” He shot me a suggestive look.

  I poured myself some coffee. I thought it best not to respond to that remark. Tom had already texted me the previous night to make sure Carl was staying over with me, and had texted me that morning to make sure I was okay. I didn’t know whether to be touched, or to be worried by the fact that Tom clearly thought I might have been murdered in the night.

  I was still tired by the time I arrived at my shop. Tom arrived precisely at nine to see how I was doing, but I already had a shop full of customers by then. It seemed Bob Jones’ demise was good for business. Word of his death was all around town, and customers came to question me about finding the body, buying chocolates as they did so. My takings for the morning were better than the combined takings for the entire previous week.

  It was just after eleven before I had any time to myself. I checked my phone to see several missed calls from Carl, and one text: Looks like it’s murder, after all. Sydney detectives have been called in.

  While I wasn’t entirely surprised that Bob Jones had been murdered, it was still a bit of a shock to have it confirmed. And why Sydney detectives? Why hadn’t been left to Detectives Rieker and Clyde? I assumed Carl’s source was Detective Clyde himself. I expected even more customers now, once word that it was a murder got around town. Knowing this town, it wasn’t going to take long.