The Sugar Hit Read online

  “But who cleans up the mess?” Carl asked him again. “He fell on that table and knocked those samples over the floor, and his arm was in the chocolate fountain. You should send someone out to clean that, because it wasn’t Narel’s fault!”

  I gently patted Carl on the arm, but he didn’t seem to notice. “I’m afraid that’s up to the store owner,” the officer said.

  Carl shook his head. “But that’s not fair! On all those movies, the police call in professionals to clean up the murder scene.”

  The mayor tapped the officer on the shoulder at that point. “It would be a public nightmare if I were to be involved in this. I can’t afford a scandal!”

  At that point, the officer was called away by the other officer, which was just as well, as his face had turned beet red. The mayor followed him in a huff. The officer presently returned and requested that Carl follow him into a corner for questioning, while the other officer asked me to accompany him into my back room. “I must caution you not to touch anything,” he said firmly. “Keep your hands by your side and resist the edge to touch things.”

  I wanted to ask him if I’d still be able to open on Monday, but I thought that rather a frivolous question in the light of the situation. Instead, I remained silent.

  The officer folded his arms across his chest. “Did you see the knife in the body?”

  I nodded, trying to get the sight out of my mind.

  He pressed on. “Did you recognize it?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It looked like the knife that I used for cutting the fudge.”

  “And without touching anything in this kitchen, do you see the knife now?”

  I looked around the kitchen. Nothing looked out of place. In fact, it looked exactly how it should be, with one exception. The serrated knife that Leo had used for cutting the fudge wasn’t in its usual place. I pointed out its absence to the detective.

  “And when did you last use that knife?”

  I took a deep breath. I had no option but to tell him the truth. “Leo Lawson, the wholesaler, was cutting the fudge for me,” I said, hoping that my statement would not label Leo as the murderer.

  However, by the look on the officer’s face, he was thinking exactly that. “Describe what happened, in your own words,” he said, his pen hovering over his notepad.

  “Well, I came to the store two hours early with Carl. We wanted to get the place set up nicely for opening night. Leo Lawford came too, to set up the chocolate fountains. He’s also a representative for the people who hire them out for functions like this.” I said a few more sentences, and then the detective told me to fast-forward to the point immediately prior to the incident.

  “I was talking to Carl when the lights went out.”

  He scribbled furiously. “Do you know why the lights went out?”

  I shook my head. “Not a clue. I’ve never had electrical problems before, and there wasn’t a thunderstorm or anything like that.”

  “Can you show me to your fuse box?”

  I took the officer out the back. “And is this back door always locked?” he asked me.

  “For sure!” I said. “The only way in tonight was through the front door.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes, I’m absolutely certain.”

  He nodded, lifted the metal lid with a gloved hand, stared at the contents, and then shut the lid. “The fingerprint team will need to dust this. Don’t touch it, or anything else.”

  I sighed. “Yes, I understand.”

  “The detectives will be questioning you soon, and then you’ll need to come down to the station tomorrow for fingerprints.”

  “Fingerprints?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “Yes, to exclude the fingerprints on the premises and on the knife. No doubt, if it is your knife, your fingerprints will already be on it. We need yours to exclude others.”

  “Oh.” I felt foolish. Of course they would need my fingerprints for that reason.

  The officer asked me to go over it once more and then told me I could go back with the others. I realized it was going to be a late night—obviously I had to be the last to leave. I was already feeling tired and was having trouble staying awake. I supposed it was because of the stress.

  When I returned to the main room, all members of the public had left, and Carl was standing alone. As I hurried over to him, I saw two familiar figures leaning over the victim, along with people in white coats.

  “It’s those detectives again, Rieker and Clyde,” Carl said. “The police have taken everyone’s addresses and the detectives are going to question everyone tomorrow.”

  “I hope they question us tomorrow too and not tonight.” I yawned widely. “I don’t know why, but I’m actually having trouble staying awake.”

  “You do look exhausted,” Carl said. “Are you all right?”

  “It’s just all the worry, I’m sure.”

  “The doctors said you’d take a very long time to recover.” Carl’s voice held concern.

  I shrugged. “I know, but I’ve had a lot more energy lately. Anyway, did you see Borage leave?”

  “Yes, I did. It’s starting to turn a bit chilly now, isn’t it?”

  I wasn’t fooled by Carl’s attempt to divert me. After all, I’d known him nearly all my life. “Carl! What aren’t you telling me? Out with it!”

  Carl looked uncomfortable, and shifted from one foot to another. He avoided my eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and shot him a stern look. “Carl, please tell me. You know I’ll get it out of you in the end.”

  Carl sighed in resignation. “Okay, you win. It’s nothing really. He just left with that tall woman.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And I suppose she was clinging into his arm for dear life?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean anything. She was probably just upset about the murder, and he was consoling her.”

  I wiped my forehead and then ran my hands through my hair. I had been so looking forward to this night, yet not only had someone been murdered, but Borage had turned up with someone who no doubt was his girlfriend in tow. It couldn’t possibly get any worse. I tried to take my mind off it. “What did the officer ask you?”

  “I just had to go over the night’s events, and tell him where everyone was standing before the lights went out and when the lights came back on.”

  I sighed and stretched my arms out in front of me. “He asked me the same sort of thing, but they need my fingerprints to exclude the ones on the knife and on the whole place, really. It seems that my knife is the murder weapon.”

  Carl gasped, and I realized that this must be news to him. “You’re kidding!” He clutched his stomach.

  I rushed to reassure him. “They don’t think I did it. Don’t worry.”

  Carl looked somewhat relieved. “Are you sure?”

  “Well, no,” I admitted, “but he didn’t seem to act as though he thought I were a suspect. In fact, I think he was more suspicious of Leo Lawford.”

  “Leo Lawford? Why did they suspect him? Was he closest to the body when the lights came back on?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t you remember that I was getting Leo to cut the fudge for me? His fingerprints will be all over that knife, and mine will too. I think the police will suspect him because he had the knife just before the lights went out.”

  Carl gasped. “Do you think he did it?”

  “No! Of course not, Carl. He’s a nice man, not a murderer.”

  The look Carl gave me was nothing short of skeptical.

  “I know what you think, Carl, but I’m sure Leo didn’t do it.”

  To my surprise, Carl did not argue. “Then who did do it, Narel? Do you realize that the murderer was here tonight? He or she was one of the people we were talking with, someone in this very room.”

  It was just too awful. I had been walking through the crowd, chatting with people and offering them chocolate samples. They had all seemed like nice no
rmal people, but there was no escaping the fact that one of these nice normal people was, in fact, a cold blooded killer.

  Chapter 3

  Carl gasped when he opened his front door. I didn’t know if it was because it was early on a Sunday morning and Carl wasn’t a morning person, or because I wasn’t invited, or because I was in my pajamas.

  Carl soon put me in no doubt. “Narel, you look disgusting. You look like you just got out of bed. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to wear a bath robe as well as knee-high black Ugg boots out in public?”

  “It’s the bathrobe you sent to me when I was in the hospital,” I protested. “It’s a cute one with little bunnies on it.”

  Carl rolled his eyes. “I need coffee.” He stomped away, leaving me to shut the door behind me. I had taken off my sunglasses, but now considered putting them back on, given that the early morning sunlight was reflecting off every white surface in Carl’s house—and there were plenty of white surfaces. In fact, white was Carl’s favorite color. The walls were white, the floors were white, the furniture was white, and even Carl’s huge Persian cat, Louis the Fourteenth, was white.

  I followed Carl to his kitchen, and handed him the bribe I had bought with me, a large box of assorted designer chocolates.

  Carl only looked mildly appeased when he saw them. “Narel, don’t tell me you walked over here dressed like that?”

  I shrugged. “You know I’m still afraid of cars, what with my serious car accident and all. Anyway, it’s only about half a mile, and since it’s early Sunday morning, I didn’t pass anyone on the way here.”

  Carl muttered to himself as he prepared the coffee. Finally, he said, “That’s because normal people are all asleep on a Sunday morning.”

  I opened the box of chocolates and put one in my mouth. Okay, maybe I popped more than one in my mouth. Before I took another one, I said, “It’s just that I thought you’d like to get an early start.”

  Carl looked at me as if I were insane. “An early start on what?”

  “On the investigation, of course.”

  Carl placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. Of course, the cup was white. I greedily sipped it. “Ah, coffee!” I looked up to see Carl frowning at me.

  “Narel, leave the investigation to the police. You stuck your nose in last time and you were nearly killed. If it wasn’t for that cat I got you, you might have been really and truly killed, and your cat might not be around next time to save you.”

  I was affronted. “Did you hear what you just said, Carl? The cat might not be around next time to save me? I think you need to drink your coffee.” I glared at him, and he returned my glare, but then sighed and sipped his coffee.

  “How is that cat anyway?”

  “Mongrel? He’s… the same as ever. I wish I could change his name, though.”

  “You know you can’t change his name, Narel. The farmer called him that for years.”

  I pulled a face. “You mean the nasty old farmer who ill-treated Mongrel and is the reason why Mongrel is afraid of ropes!”

  “The two aren’t mutually exclusive, you realize,” Carl said. “And if Mongrel wasn’t scared of ropes, then you could very well be dead.”

  I had to admit that he had a point. When Lucinda Shaw-Smythe had come to kill me, Mongrel had noticed the rope necklace hanging around her neck and had attacked her. He had saved my life. And consequently, I tried to reward him with little treats, but I supposed he was simply grateful for a warm house and frequent food. That was clearly the first time in his life he’d had such necessities.

  Mongrel still attacked his food as if he were trying to kill it, and he only ate the most expensive brand of canned cat food. When he had first arrived, he would not venture from his cat basket, but now he roamed around the house freely. He still shot back into his carrier basket if I had visitors, and I had to check them to make sure they weren’t wearing or carrying anything that looked like a rope.

  “Have you managed to stroke him yet?” Carl asked me.

  I shook my head. “No. Well, sort of. I’ve tried a little and he hasn’t attacked me, but it seems to scare him so I’m taking it slowly.”

  “That’s wise. Have you still seen that man hanging around outside your house?”

  I took another chocolate and ate it before answering. “Yes, I have,” I said. “He was there yesterday morning, and he was walking a small black dog. I haven’t seen him walking a dog before and he always stares over at my house. He makes me uneasy.”

  “Maybe he just fancies you.”

  “Well, if he does, then he’s a stalker!” I said. “I’ve seen him every day and sometimes quite late at night, and he’s always staring at the house.”

  Carl frowned. “Do you think you should tell the police? I know we’ve been through this before and you said he was probably just a neighbor, but with what happened last night in your chocolate shop, I don’t think you can be too careful. It’s probably worth telling the police.”

  “Okay, I will.” I stopped speaking as Carl’s prized show cat, Louis the Fourteenth, jumped up on my lap and demanded attention. He was a retired show cat now, but Carl still kept him in pristine show condition. I stroked the cat, and when I slowed down, he looked up at me with his big orange eyes demanding more. “All right, all right,” I said and commenced stroking him. “If only Mongrel would look as good as you.”

  “You must admit,” Carl said, “Mongrel is looking heaps better already.”

  “He sure is!” I said happily. “Anyway, are you sure you don’t want to help me investigate this matter?”

  Carl sighed dramatically. “Narel, please leave it to the cops, and just concentrate on opening your store tomorrow. The murder investigation took way too much out of me last time. Anyway, why do you want to get involved?”

  “Well, it’s my shop! And it was my opening night, more to the point. Plus, the wholesaler is probably a suspect and he’s a very nice person.”

  Carl stood up and raised his hands to the sky. “Leave it to the police!” he said in a melodramatic tone.

  “The police didn’t solve the last lot of murders.”

  “Narel, they did. I’m sure they knew it was Lucinda all the time. It’s just that she tried to kill you before they arrested her.”

  I slammed a chocolate onto the table. “I rest my case!”

  My dramatic moment was spoiled by my phone ringing. “Who could that be?” I asked myself, but Louis the Fourteenth responded by meowing. “Hello?” I said tentatively. After all, it was just past eight in the morning.

  “Miss Myers, it’s Detective Rieker. I’m sorry to call so early,” he said in a tone that showed that he was not the slightest bit sorry at all. He pressed on without waiting for me to answer. “Would you please come down to the police station? We need to question you about last night’s events, and also take your fingerprints.”

  “Oh yes, the police officer last night told me you’d need to take my fingerprints to exclude them.”

  “Oh?” Detective Rieker seemed surprised by my statement, and that gave me cause for concern. “When will you be able to come to the station, Miss Myers? Sooner rather than later would be good.”

  I looked at Carl, but he simply shrugged. “What time would you like me there?” I said.

  “Nine,” was the curt reply.

  I raised an eyebrow at Carl, and he nodded. “All right then, I’ll be there at nine.”

  Rieker hung up without saying anything further, and I looked up at Carl. “Do you mind driving me, please Carl, or I could get a taxi?”

  “I don’t mind driving you, Narel. After all, I’m already awake.” He shot me a pointed look as he said that. “I suppose it’s just routine questioning.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  At precisely nine, I walked in the door of the local police station. I was relieved that I was sufficiently fuelled on caffeine and pure Brazilian chocolate.

  The stern
officer at the front desk directed me to sit on a chair in the waiting room. Ten minutes later, I was getting more nervous. Why would they want me there at nine on a Sunday morning if they weren’t even going to be punctual?

  By the time Detective Rieker appeared, my frustration had grown. He nodded to me and indicated that I should follow him. This time, I was shown into a more modern room than the one in which I had been questioned previously. Instead of tones of faded mustard and unsightly pale green, this room had two bright purple walls and two deep gray walls. The table in the center was metal, but it looked new, as did the metal chairs either side of it. Instead of the ancient recording machine I had seen previously, there was a video camera attached to the end of the desk. There was also a big mirror, and I figured it must be a two-way mirror like on the movies. I resisted the urge to wave at it only with great difficulty.

  Rieker did not speak until he was joined by Detective Clyde, so I was left to look around the room aimlessly. However, as soon as Clyde arrived, Rieker began his questioning. He started with the usual spiel about the fact that I would be recorded. I duly nodded in what I hoped were all the right places.

  It was not long before the questioning turned intense. Rieker and Clyde barked questions at me one after the other. Even though I was not guilty and had nothing to hide, I was left wondering whether I needed a lawyer and whether I should take more time to think before answering. I had the awful and distinct impression that they thought I was the murderer.

  They asked me question after question about the knife with the serrated edge. Rieker leaned across the desk and fixed me with a steely gaze. "Yours and Leo Lawson's prints were the only ones found on the knife."

  "I’m quite sure Leo Lawson didn’t do it," I said. "He’s a very nice man, and he's been in the chocolate wholesaling business for years.”

  Rieker and Clyde exchanged glances. “Is this your roundabout way of trying to throw suspicion onto Lawson?" Rieker asked me.

  I was confused. I had just been trying to do the exact opposite. "No?" I said.

  "Witnesses saw Leo Lawson well away from the body when the lights went out,” Rieker said. "In fact, one elderly lady said she was so afraid when the lights going out, that she clutched someone standing next to her, and didn't let go again until the lights came back on. That someone was Leo Lawson. There is no way that he could be the perpetrator."