Sweet Revenge (Cocoa Narel Chocolate Shop Mysteries Book 1) Page 7

  I frowned. “If it was an accident, then someone else did it, because he couldn’t accidentally shoot himself self in the back with arrows.” My breathing was coming hard and fast and I felt somewhat nauseous. “And what’s more, those detectives have already had me down to the station to give my statement. I was the one who found the body.”

  Carl put the cat on the ground and then sat down hard on a seat. “You’re kidding! You found his body?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It was such a shock. I’ve had way too many shocks. First Guy exploded, and now I find Ridgewell Dugan’s body with arrows sticking out of his back. And what’s more, I haven’t had any coffee yet.” I held back the tears with some difficulty.

  Wisely, Carl poured me some coffee and then poured some for himself. I drank it as fast as I could, given how hot it was. “Oh, that’s better,” I said. “I almost feel like a human again. Can I have another one please, Carl?”

  Carl duly obliged. “I just can’t tell you how shocked I am,” he said, pouring himself another coffee.

  “How do you think I feel?” I said. “I was there when Guy’s car blew up and I discovered Ridgewell’s body. The funny thing is, I haven’t seen Guy or Ridgewell in years, not since high school, and then they suddenly both turn up in town, and then they are both murdered! And I haven’t seen Mandy since high school either, and now she’s in town. What’s going on?”

  Carl slapped himself on the forehead. “Oh silly me! Narel, there’s something I haven’t told you. I meant to tell you, of course, but it just slipped my mind. I don’t know how it slipped my mind, but it did. You’ll think I’m really silly when I tell you.”

  “Out with it, Carl, or you’ll be the third murder victim!” I said.

  “There’s a high school reunion this weekend.”

  I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Carl winced. “I wasn’t keeping it from you, honestly, Narel. I really did intend to tell you. I just can’t imagine how it slipped my mind.”

  I shook my head. “Well, that explains why they’re all back in town,” I said, “but it doesn’t explain why they were murdered. Carl, I’m really worried. Do you think someone’s trying to set me up? I was there when Guy was killed, and Ridgewell was murdered right near my house.” Carl made to speak, but I held up my finger at him. “And there’s more. There were arrows sticking out of Ridgewell’s back, and you remember the one thing that I was really good at in high school?”

  Carl looked a little confused. “Yes, of course. You were very good at consuming huge amounts of chocolate. Everyone knows that, Narel.”

  I shook my head. “No, the other thing I was good at.” Carl scratched his head, so I enlightened him. “Remember that I won all the archery competitions at school?”

  “Oh of course! Yes, that’s right. You were really good at it.”

  I nodded. “Don’t you see? I was with Guy when he was murdered, and now someone’s been killed behind my house and shot in the back with arrows. Carl, I’m worried that someone is trying to set me up to take the fall for the murders, and the way the police are acting, whoever it is might be successful in framing me.”

  Carl shook his head. “Narel, don’t you worry! The two of us will find out who the murderer is. You mark my words.”

  Chapter 9

  I stood in my shop and looked around it. This time, I had locked the front door so I couldn’t have any more unwelcome visitors the likes of Lucinda and Mandy.

  As much as I liked the white walls and white floorboards, I thought those colors would be more fitting for a gift shop. When in the hospital, I had decided I would paint at least one of the walls in my new shop a chocolate color, so I thought I should go with that. There was plenty of light into the little store, and so it could easily have chocolate walls without looking dark. That would certainly add to the atmosphere of the place.

  I sat on the folding chair that Carl had loaned me. I was still getting exhausted easily, and while that was to be expected after my long stay in the hospital, it was no less annoying. I was even feeling mentally exhausted now. Just going through the day-to-day motions of walking around and being on my feet for a long time was an effort for me.

  I had ordered the bookshelves from IKEA, and they had arrived earlier that morning. I wasn’t going to use them as bookshelves of course; I was going to use them for displaying product.

  I bought some lunch from the café next door and took the folding chair into the tiny kitchen. I ate my lunch in there. My thoughts turned to how lucky I was. Sure, I’d had a terrible accident, but it had given me a whole new look which, truth be told, I could have achieved with exercise and diet. Still, that’s easier said than done, and not everyone is in the right mindset to overhaul their lives. My life was overhauled for me, and I figured that was a good thing. The accident was the cloud that had the silver lining.

  And now I had been awarded the settlement that, if I were careful, would keep me for the rest of my life. Sure, I would need to make a success of the business, but I didn’t have to make a big success of it—I just had to make a small but steady income. If only I wasn’t so exhausted all the time. I knew I was improving day by day, but I was an impatient person and wanted to feel one hundred percent already.

  I didn’t think I would be able to do too much more. I would need to go home and have a sleep, as I had done every day since I left the hospital. And Carl had invited me over for dinner and told me to come early so we could go through the suspects. He was quite concerned that the police had questioned me, and had decided that he should solve the murders. I smiled as I thought of how supportive Carl had always been.

  About two hours later, I rang Carl’s doorbell. “It’s open,” called a voice from inside. “Come into the Operations Center.”

  I was puzzled. What did he mean by the Operations Center? I could only assume he meant his office.

  I walked down the tastefully decorated hallway and turned into Carl’s office. Like the rest of the house, it was white and minimalist, if you didn’t count the four computers and all manner of electronic gear. Still, they hardly overwhelmed the room. The beautiful wide picture window overlooking the park behind Carl’s house provided a magnificent view.

  There was a large Japanese peace lily in a terracotta pot at the far end of Carl’s desk. It added some color to the room. And while the room lacked color, it didn’t lack charm. Whiteboards with writing scrawled all over them lined the walls. Carl had a thing for whiteboards; he said they helped him to be organized. At any rate, Carl was not in his office. I walked out of the office and into the hallway. “Where are you, Carl?” I yelled.

  “In the Operations Center!” was the response.

  I still had no idea what he was talking about, so I continued on down to the living room. There, standing in the middle of the room, and looking very pleased with himself, was Carl. He stretched out his arms and spun around. “Do you like it? I got the idea from the Aurora Teagarden mysteries on TV.”

  I scratched my head. The living room had been taken over by whiteboards. They were everywhere. “I think I’ve seen every episode, and I don’t remember Aurora Teagarden’s living room being filled with whiteboards,” I said.

  Carl sighed as if I had said something particularly silly. He pointed to the only whiteboard that had something written on it. It had several magnets and there appeared to be lines of wool running from one magnet to the other. “This is what Aurora Teagarden does,” he said triumphantly. “She uses wool to connect all the suspects.”

  I walked over to the whiteboard. Carl had written ‘Victim 1: Guy Smith’ and next to him, ‘Victim 2, Ridgewell Dugan.’ Underneath that, he had written ‘Suspects,’ and then several names. I was not pleased to see that my name was included. “Why on earth do you have my name there, Carl?” I asked him.

  “Well, you are a suspect aren’t you? I mean, you and I both know you didn’t do it, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a suspect. I need to put you there for the
sake of completeness.”

  “Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “And why do you have the names of everybody we went to high school with?”

  “Can you think of any other suspects?” Carl added. “It’s obviously connected with high school because the two victims were in our class. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “So you included everyone in our class as suspects?” I asked him.

  Carl nodded. “Yes, I think it must be someone on that list.”

  “I suppose so,” I said. “I doubt it was one of The Populars though, unless we find out that both victims had been in business with the same person and that led to the murders. If we can’t find anything else linking the victims, then my best guess would be that it was someone that The Populars had bullied.”

  Carl clapped his hands. He hurried to a whiteboard, picked up a whiteboard marker, and held it in the air. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “This whiteboard can be for motives.” He wrote the word ‘Motives’ at the top of the whiteboard, and then proceeded to make a list. “One of the motives could be that the person was bullied,” he said. “Then there’s the possible motive that the two victims were in business together and ripped off someone else, like you suggested. Then the third possible motive is that the two of them were involved with the same woman, and she killed them both.”

  “Um, the third doesn’t seem such a likely motive to me,” I said. I didn’t want to hurt Carl’s feelings, but I thought that was a little far fetched.

  Carl pouted. “Well, can you think of a better motive?”

  I shook my head. He had a point.

  “Let’s look at how the victims are connected,” Carl said. “Mandy Makim was married to the first victim, Guy Smith. Mandy Makim also went to school with the second victim, Ridgewell Dugan.”

  “But what motive would she have?” I asked him.

  Carl shrugged. “Aurora Teagarden just puts the pieces of wool between the suspects before she figures out the motive,” he said flatly.

  I just pulled a face and went to move a white fluffy cushion, but it turned out to be Louis the Fourteenth camouflaged against the white sofa. He was fast asleep.

  Carl delicately anchored pieces of wool between the magnet over Mandy’s name and the magnets over the two victims’ names. He didn’t speak again until he had put the wool in place to his liking. “Now, you said that there were two arrows in Ridgewell’s back. We both know that you always won the archery competitions. But who always came second to you?”

  “Lucinda Shaw-Smythe!” I exclaimed.

  Carl pointed to me. “You got it! That elevates her on the suspects list, if you ask me.”

  “I don’t know, Carl,” I said. “Whoever did it wasn’t a crack shot. They put two arrows into Ridgewell, whereas I would’ve got it right with the one shot. Anyway, won’t the police figure this out for themselves? They’re not stupid, you know.”

  Carl looked crestfallen. “Well, if they had done their job properly, there wouldn’t have been a second victim. And who knows, there could even be a third!”

  That remark made me feel quite nervous. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” I said forlornly. “Do you think either of us might be a target?”

  Carl hurried to reassure me. “No, no, no, Narel. No one has a motive. I mean, we weren’t in business with those people and we haven’t had a relationship with them. The only thing you ever did to upset anyone was beating Lucinda at archery, and I’m sure she would have liked to murder you for it, but she would’ve done so back then.”

  I tapped my forehead. “That brings up a good point, you know, Carl. If it is someone who went to school with us, someone who has a grudge against one of The Populars, why didn’t they murder them back then? Why wait until now?

  Carl shrugged. “I don’t know. Anyway, that might not be the motive. If someone else is murdered though, that will give us a clue.”

  I shuddered. “Don’t say that, Carl! Anyway, I feel faint. I need to eat something.” I reached into my purse, and pulled out a bag of cherry liquor centered chocolates. I offered the bag to Carl, and he took one. “I need some more lunch,” I said, before stuffing two into my mouth at once. I looked up to see Carl laughing at me. I hurried to finish the chocolates, and then said, “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” Carl said honestly. “You might look like a completely different person, Narel, but you act the same as you always did.”

  “Why do I not think that’s a compliment?” I asked him, and then stuffed another two cherry liquor centered chocolates into my mouth. After I had eaten several chocolates, I turned my attention back to the whiteboards. “You know, Lucinda and Mandy are good friends. Perhaps they were in it together.”

  “Possibly,” Carl said, making a note to that effect on the whiteboard. “But we don’t have a legitimate motive for them. Mandy was married to Guy years ago, so if she was going to kill him, surely she would have before now.”

  I nodded. “But don’t you see, Carl, that’s just the problem. If we think it was someone we went to school with, and someone is killing people because of what happened at school, then why didn’t they do it back then? After all, this is years later.”

  Carl left the whiteboards and sat opposite me on one of his pristine white couches. “We can’t assume anything,” he said. “It could well have been something that happened back in high school. Perhaps it was someone that The Populars victimized, someone like the two of us, and perhaps the murderer personally can’t murder someone, but he or she paid a hitman to do it. Perhaps it took them time to save up for a hitman.”

  I thought that over for a few moments. It did seem possible, although somewhat of a stretch, but having two murders in a short space of time was a stretch in itself. “How long before dinner, Carl?”

  Carl rolled his eyes. “I think we should look into the murders some more before we have dinner.”

  “No matter.” I popped some more chocolates into my mouth. “Okay, let’s explore the possibility that someone is taking revenge on The Populars for what they did to us at school. Who else did they bully?”

  “Everyone who wasn’t one of them,” Carl said. I offered him another chocolate, but he declined. “Narel, I thought you said you couldn’t eat too much food at once?”

  “They’re only small chocolates,” I said defensively. “And The Populars bullied some people more than others. They bullied me more than anyone else. They bullied you too, but not as badly.”

  “That’s because I was tall even back then,” Carl said. “I think they were a bit scared that I could turn violent, even though I never did. I think my size intimidated them.”

  “You’re probably right.” I nodded. “But I was the one who was bullied more than anyone else, and if I didn’t want to murder them, then why would anyone else?”

  Carl shrugged. “Why does anyone murder anyone?” he said. “I assume it’s to do with the person’s own personality. Besides, there are one or two other kids that were bullied as much as you.”

  “I can’t quite remember them,” I said. “I do remember they bullied that little kid, Tom Fletcher, to a terrible degree. Poor little guy. They were so mean to him. And who else were they mean to? I can’t remember all the kids’ names. It must be because of my partial memory loss.”

  Carl shook his head. “No, I don’t have memory loss and I can’t remember all their names. Hang on a moment; I’ll go get the yearbooks and we’ll go through them.”

  I finished the bag of chocolates while Carl was retrieving the yearbooks. I wiped my hands on a tissue so I wouldn’t mark the books.

  Carl returned and handed one of the open books to me with a flourish. I recoiled when I saw my photograph. “Yikes! Did I really look as bad as that?” I looked at Carl, and he flushed beet red. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said through gritted teeth. I stared at the photo. Had that really been me? I must be so used to my new look, even though I thought I wasn’t, that I’d forgotten what I used to look like. It was shocking to see how I
had looked.

  “Stop looking at yourself, Narel,” Carl said, in an obvious attempt to divert to my attention. “We need to identify the other kids who were bullied, so we can put them on the suspects list.”

  I jabbed my finger at a short kid. “There’s Tom Fletcher. Have you put him on the suspects list yet?”

  “No.” Carl hurried over to a fresh white board. “This whiteboard can be for suspects,” he said.

  “But what about the whiteboard with all the magnets and wool?” I said. “Isn’t that the suspect list?”

  Carl scratched his head daintily. “I think we need two boards, Narel. We’re going to have a lot of suspects. I can maneuver these two whiteboards so that they’re next to each other, and the wool can stretch across.”

  “Great,” I said, not meaning it.

  Carl hurried back over. “Who else was bullied badly?” He pointed to a boy sitting next to Tom. “What was his name again?”

  “I’d forgotten about him!” I explained. “Royston Jackson, wasn’t it?”

  “Of course! How could I forget Royston? And you say your memory’s not good! The Populars were really horrible to him.”

  I tried to remember what had happened to Royston. “Sorry, Carl, but I can’t quite remember what they did to him.”

  “It was ghastly, Narel! Do you remember when he was in the school play?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t even remember a school play.”

  “There were lots of school plays, but this was the school play, given how it was talked about for years afterward. It was a big production, and on opening night, all the parents and everyone had come. One of The Populars pulled Royston’s pants down on stage. He was left standing there, commando. He must have been in shock, because it took him a while to run off stage. The Populars who did it said they had tripped, so they didn’t get into trouble, but Royston had to take several weeks off school because he was so traumatized. That was the story going around, anyway.”

  “That’s horrible!” I said. “Whatever became of Royston?”