The Sugar Hit Read online

  While I was pleased about that, it seemed that the detectives had me firmly in their sights as the killer.

  Chapter 4

  It was Monday morning, the first day that my store was open to the public. I’d had a restless night sleep, so arrived at the store even earlier than I had intended. I stood out the front admiring it.

  I had painted the entrance in candy striped colors of cherry pink, pale frosted pink, and the palest pink imaginable. The trims were gloss white. The two awnings were also cherry pink and edged in dark strawberry. Either side of the entrance I had placed two large white urns in which I had placed pretty pink and white flowers. Sadly, the flowers were not edible, but at least they looked nice. My welcome mat was a cherry color with the word ‘Welcome’ in dark chocolate lettering.

  I unlocked the door and walked inside, allowing myself a small moment of pride as I surveyed my shop. I had planned it all those long months in the hospital, and now it had finally happened. Today was the first day of my shop, and soon I would be selling chocolate to my very first paying customer. I could barely contain my excitement.

  I had spent the previous afternoon preparing the store for today, after the police had given me the all clear to go back into the store. I was ever so grateful to Leo Lawford, because he had not only removed the chocolate fountains, but he had also removed all evidence of the body and everything that that entailed. That had left me nothing to clean—nothing to do with the body at least. There was still plenty to clean after all the people on the opening night. I was exhausted, but I was running on adrenaline and I couldn’t have been happier—well, apart from the murder and Borage having a girlfriend, of course.

  I carefully walked around the store making sure everything was spick-and-span. I still had two hours to go before the opening, but there was no way I would’ve been able to stay at home fending off Mongrel and just waiting for opening time.

  I hurried into my little kitchen and again looked for the serrated knife that I used to cut fudge. I had looked for it the afternoon before, and there had been no sign of it then, so I hadn’t expected it to appear magically. Still, it bothered me, as the police had not yet told me specifically that it was the murder weapon. Still, it must have been, because it was missing and because they had asked so many questions about it. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it. I’d have to be more clear headed if I were to run a business.

  There was really nothing much to do, so I made myself a simple breakfast: a short black espresso and some assorted praline chocolates. In what seemed like no time at all, it was five minutes to nine, and I opened the door to the shop. At one minute to nine, a customer entered the store. At least, I hoped she was going to buy something. And indeed she did. She was a little old elderly lady with a sweet tooth. She told me her life history, that she had moved to Oak Grove to be with her three daughters but they never spent any time with her. She lived with a Jack Russell terrier and three bantam hens, and a small black and white cat.

  My heart went out to her, and by the time she left with a large box of Espresso Stout Beer Truffles and a quantity of maltballs, I was left wondering whether I would need to be part psychologist and part confidante, as well as salesperson.

  I had no time to relax, because the next customer had already arrived. This was a lady with two small children, I assumed under school age, who were delighted to see so much sugar in one place and stuck their sticky hands all over my glass cabinets. The woman said she was just looking, and was about to leave, when one of the children threw himself on his back and kicked up his legs in the air. I had never seen such a tantrum, only in movies, and it was a sight to behold.

  I watched with fascination to see what the mother would do with the child. She just stood there looking at him. Finally, the child screamed, “I want chocolate!” at the top of his lungs.

  “You can have chocolate if you stop screaming,” his mother said.

  The child stopped screaming immediately and jumped to his feet in one fluid motion with the skill of a ninja. Although he had been screaming, his eyes were dry. He was a completely different child. The mother then bought both children a large amount of chocolate, paid me a handsome sum, and left the shop. As I reached for the glass cleaner, I shook my head. It was none of my business, but even I wouldn’t feed so much chocolate to a small child. But then again, who knows what someone would do when faced with that situation? I didn’t even have children, so who was I to judge? I wasn’t likely to have children, either. The closest I ever got to a date was with Borage, and he had a girlfriend. I scrubbed the glass with the glass cleaner and my spirits fell.

  Why did I keep thinking about Borage? I wasn’t one of those lovesick females that obsess over man. Or was I? “Don’t be so stupid, Narel,” I scolded myself aloud.

  “Are you talking to yourself?”

  I spun around and there, to my horror, was Borage. He looked amused. “What did you do that was stupid?” he asked me.

  “Nothing,” I lied. I hoped he wasn’t a mind reader. I also wished that my heart wouldn’t beat faster every time I saw him.

  Borage’s expression changed to one of concern. “I dropped by to see how you were doing after the terrible thing that happened on Saturday night.”

  I was touched by his concern. “I’m okay, thanks. It’s been full on with the police, though. The whole place was a crime scene until midday yesterday, and they fingerprinted the whole place. I had to go to the police station yesterday for questioning, and they fingerprinted me.” I stopped to draw breath.

  “Do the police have any idea who did it?” Borage asked me.

  I shook my head. “If they do, they haven’t told me. I don’t even know who the victim was.”

  Borage looked surprised. “You don’t know? He’s a police officer—or rather was, a detective to be precise. He and his wife have a farm out not far from town.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said. “Oh, I mean that he had a wife. The poor woman must be so upset. It’s a terrible thing to think that the murderer was here, present, on my opening night. Why the murderer chose that time to murder that poor man is beyond me.”

  “Yes, it is rather strange,” Borage said. “That’s the very last thing you’d expect at a chocolate shop opening night.”

  I placed the glass cleaner behind the counter. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

  “I’m just going to the café next door to get coffee,” Borage said. “Would you like some?”

  If I hadn’t known better, I would think that Borage saw me as girlfriend potential, but I knew that couldn’t be the case, because he already had a girlfriend. My spirits slumped. Still, I wanted to take him up on his offer. As silly as it was, I wanted to spend time in his company. A thought suddenly occurred to me. “I wonder if he was working on something?”

  Borage was clearly taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  I smiled. “Sorry, that was a rapid change of topic. I just wondered if the poor murdered man was working on some police case, and that’s what got him killed.”

  “Quite possibly.” Borage scratched his chin and shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Anyway, about that coffee?”

  “Yes please, that would be great.”

  Borage disappeared from the shop before I could offer to give him money. I felt awkward. Should I offer to pay, or was it obviously his treat? I had been desperate and dateless all my life, so I had no idea of social niceties—not in this regard.

  By the time Borage returned, I had served five more customers. “Would you like some chocolates with that?” I asked him. I placed an assortment of soft-centered chocolates on the counter. I figured that would get me around the awkward matter of offering to pay for my coffee.

  “Did you enjoy the opening night?” I asked him, and then silently scolded myself for saying such a silly thing. “I mean, up until the time of the murder.”

  “Yes, it was a wonderful night,” Borage said. “So you don’t feel funny being in a place
where someone was murdered?”

  I frowned. “Actually, this will sound strange, but that hadn’t occurred to me until now. Technically though, it was the hall adjoining this building, not my store.”

  Borage hurried to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Narel. Please forgive me. That was an absolutely stupid thing to say.” He touched my arm and an electric charge ran through me.

  “No, it’s fine,” I said, thinking over his words. Perhaps I should have been creeped out, but I wasn’t. I looked up to see Borage smiling at me, and my stomach flipped once more.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang. He looked at it. “I’ll have to take this. Won’t be a moment.” He walked a few steps away, and I walked back behind the counter to give him privacy. Still, I was able to hear a woman’s voice, and she sounded upset.

  “I have to go,” Borage said to me as soon as he ended the call.

  I watched with a heavy heart as he disappeared out of the store.

  Chapter 5

  Carl had been hard at work all day, and I too had been hard at work in the first day of my new store. If the takings continued the way they had on my very first day, then my financial future was secure. Not that I intended to rest on my laurels, because I had to get the online business going as well.

  I shut the shop at five and then went home to bake a no-flour mud cake. It was my most favorite cake ever, incredibly moist and so richly chocolaty. It had to be baked carefully in a pan of water in the oven. I carefully carried it all the way to Carl’s house.

  Carl opened the door and smiled when he saw the cake. “I told you I’d bring dinner,” I said.

  “Yes, and I suspected your dinner would be chocolate cake, so I’ve made some pasta.”

  I walked inside the house, and nearly tripped over Louis the Fourteenth. “Is it chocolate pasta?” I asked him.

  Carl’s expression was horrified. “Chocolate pasta? Is there even such a thing?”

  I nodded happily. “You know that little pasta shop that’s just opened up next to the butcher? It sells chocolate pasta!”

  Carl simply shuddered in response.

  I handed him the cake and a large box of gourmet chocolate truffles. I could smell the rich aroma of the spices and the wild Tuscan fennel pollen used in the chocolates. My mouth watered. “I know the chocolate mud cake is your favorite.”

  He took the cake. “It’s your favorite, Narel.”

  I pursed my lips. “Yes, but it’s your favorite, too.”

  Carl narrowed his eyes. “It’s a bribe, isn’t it?”

  “You got me!”

  Carl sighed dramatically. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

  “I just want you to help me google the victim, Peter Prentiss. Borage came into the shop today and told me that Peter Prentiss was a cop, a detective.”

  By now we were in the kitchen. Carl placed two bowls on the table, and proceeded to dish out pasta into each one. “Really? I’ve never seen him around here before. Anyway, did you say Borage was in the shop today? Was that woman with him?”

  I hovered my fork over my pasta. “No, she wasn’t.” I hoped Carl wouldn’t keep talking about her. Unfortunately, he did.

  “Did he mention her at all? Did you ask him who she was?”

  I took a gulp of wine before answering. “No he didn’t mention her, and I could hardly ask him who she was. That would be most uncool. By the way, did you know you could get chocolate wine? Or have I already told you that? It’s not actually chocolate, but it has chocolate notes. It’s a South Australian Shiraz.”

  Carl nodded and took a large mouthful of pasta. He didn’t appear to share my excitement.

  “Make sure you leave room for dessert,” I said.

  Carl signaled that he hadn’t finished his mouthful. “Your bribe has worked anyway,” he finally said. “As soon as we eat this, I’ll get my laptop and we can google Peter Prentiss. I didn’t even know there was a cop in town by that name. I’ll have to get my whiteboards out.”

  I smiled. If Carl intended to get out his whiteboards, that meant he was fully on board with the investigation.

  After we ate the pasta, I stacked Carl’s dishwasher while he fetched his laptop. He was already muttering to himself by the time I had finished with the dishwasher and brought out slices of mud cake.

  “Narel, I can’t eat all that,” Carl said. “Unlike you, I’m not medically unable to put on weight.” He chuckled.

  I shrugged and spooned in a large mouthful of mud cake. “What have you found?” I asked after an interval.

  “Surprisingly, there’s quite a bit on the net about him. I found some old news footage on YouTube, and there was one video where some criminal by the name of Todd Cambridge threatened to kill him.”

  I nearly choked on my sweet Hungarian paprika soft-centered milk chocolate. “You’re kidding!”

  Carl jabbed his finger at the screen. “Watch this!”

  I watched as a man was taken to a police vehicle between two burly police officers. He had a coat over his head, and he was yelling. The subtitles showed that he was making threats against the arresting officer, Peter Prentiss.

  “And guess what I found out while you were stuffing your face with chocolate?” Carl asked.

  I was actually stuffing my face with chocolate when he said that, so I had to wait for a moment before I could speak. “I only started eating the mud cake and chocolates just then,” I protested. “What did you find out?”

  “Todd Cambridge has just been released on parole.”

  I shook my head. “That’s way too obvious! No one’s going to get out of jail and then hurry off to murder someone. It’s way too suspicious. He’d be the first person they’d look at.”

  Carl shrugged. “I’ll get the whiteboards out and make a suspects list. We do need to put Todd Cambridge at the top of the list.” I made to protest, but he held up a hand. “He’s our only suspect, Narel.”

  I raised my eyebrows. He was right. “Okay, how about you go and set up your whiteboards, and I’ll keep googling.”

  I typed in Peter Prentiss’s name—quite a feat given that the spoiled Louis the Fourteenth was sitting on my lap and expecting me to stroke his fur continually—and tried to find out about Prentiss’s personal life. After all, Borage had said that Prentiss was married. I soon found that he was married to a woman by the name of Paula. That was a lot of Ps for one couple.

  “What have you got?” Carl asked me.

  “He had a wife called Paula, and they lived out of town on a farm.” I nearly told him that Borage had already told me about the farm out of town, but I didn’t want to be teased about Borage again.

  Carl rubbed his hands together with glee. “I have a great idea. Print out a photo of Peter Prentiss, and find his wife’s photo online and print out a photo of her, too. And while you’re at it, print out a photo of Todd Cambridge, and we can put their photos on the whiteboard.”

  I did as I was asked, after I managed to figure out his huge and highly expensive looking but uncooperative printer. I cut out the photos and took them to Carl.

  He was transfixed by his computer. “Narel, I don’t think they have any kids. There’s a motive for you right there—Paula the wife will probably get everything in the will, and even if she doesn’t get everything, she’ll get most of it. I’ve been looking on Google Earth at their farm. It looks extremely expensive.”

  I frowned. “Should we move her to the top of the suspects list then?” Carl for some reason seemed keen on Todd Cambridge as the main suspect, but who in their right mind would get out of jail on parole and then immediately kill someone they had threatened? That made no sense. You’d think someone like that would at least wait a year to throw suspicion off themselves.

  Carl nodded and reluctantly moved to Paula to the top. He stuck a magnet over her photo to keep it in place, and then tapped it. “You know, I’ve never really seen her around town, but then again, I wasn’t looking for her.” He rubbed his chin, and then bent down
to stroke Louis the Fourteenth, who purred loudly. “I think the first thing we have to do is to find out where Todd Cambridge is, and what he’s doing.”

  “Good idea,” I said to him. “We should also see what Paula’s up to.”

  “Well, I’ve just finished a large project,” Carl said, “so I should stakeout her house tomorrow.”

  “I’d love to help you,” I lied, “but I can’t because I have the shop.”

  Carl didn’t seem to mind. “Okay, then I’ll stakeout Paula Prentiss’s house tomorrow, and then we’ll have to try to find out what Todd Cambridge is up to, and where he was on Saturday night.”

  Chapter 6

  I was on cloud nine. I’d had another busy morning at the shop. And so far, I’d had all happy customers. I knew that one day I’d probably get some customers who were cranky or not too happy, but for now, I was delighted that everyone had been super nice to me. I was also doing a roaring trade, both with locals and passing tourist traffic, and it wasn’t even the busiest tourist season yet.

  I gift wrapped a box of Madagascan exotic chocolates, and my stomach growled. I realized that I’d been racing around all morning and hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. Since there were no customers at the moment, I thought I should duck into the back room and rustle up something to eat.

  At that moment, Carl burst through the door. I was at once taken by his bright purple, glittering, long nails. I shrieked. “Whatever have you done to your nails, Carl?”

  Carl rubbed his forehead, but accidentally scratched himself with one of his new acrylic nails. “Ouch! Oh, it’s all that Paula Prentiss’s fault!” He pulled a sulky face.

  I sighed. “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”