The Chocolate Cupid Killings Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Teaser chapter

  GET CLUED IN

  ALSO BY JOANNA CARL

  “As delectable as a rich chocolate truffle and the mystery filling satisfies to the last prized morsel.”

  —Carolyn Hart

  Praise for the Chocoholic Mysteries

  The Chocolate Cupid Killings

  “Deliciously cozy. The Chocolate Cupid Killings is richly entertaining and has no calories.”

  —Elaine Viets, author of The Fashion Hound Murders

  “A chocolate-drenched page-turner! JoAnna Carl satisfies your sweet tooth along with your craving for a tasty whodunit.”

  —Cleo Coyle, author of Holiday Grind

  “Anyone who loves chocolate—and who doesn’t?—will love this delicious, fast-paced addition to the Chocoholic Mystery series. It has more twists and turns than a chocolate-covered pretzel, but this treat won’t add any pounds, so you can indulge without guilt!”

  —Leslie Meier, author of Mother’s Day Murder

  “A deft mix of truffles and trouble. Chocaholics—this book is for you!”

  —Laura Childs, author of the Tea Shop mysteries

  “A delicious treat for cozy fans.... JoAnna Carl is an author that never disappoints.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “A sweet mystery of how helping others can at times come back and bite you in the backside. JoAnna Carl definitely knows how to pen a sweet read.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  The Chocolate Snowman Murders

  “Dollops of chocolate lore add to the cozy fun.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  continued . . .

  The Chocolate Jewel Case

  “[A] fun, very readable book, with likable characters that are knowable whether you’ve read all seven novels in the series or whether this is your first.”

  —Suite 101

  The Chocolate Bridal Bash

  “Entertaining and stylish.... Reading this on an empty stomach is hazardous to the waistline because the chocolate descriptions are . . . sensuously enticing. Lee is very likable without being too sweet.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “The sixth delicious mix of chocolate and crime.”

  —Writerspace

  “Everything about Joanna Carl’s books is delicious treats, from the characters to the snippets of chocolate trivia . . . fantastic characters who have come to feel like good friends. The Chocolate Bridal Bash stands alone, but once you’ve read it, you’ll be craving the other books in this series.”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  The Chocolate Mouse Trap

  “A fine tale.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “I’ve been a huge fan of the Chocoholic Mystery series from the start. I adore the mix of romance, mystery, and trivia . . . satisfying.”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  The Chocolate Puppy Puzzle

  “The pacing is perfect for the small-town setting, and the various secondary characters add variety and interest. Readers may find themselves craving chocolate, yearning to make their own.... An interesting mystery, fun characters, and, of course, chocolate make this a fun read for fans of mysteries and chocolates alike.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  The Chocolate Frog Frame-Up

  “A JoAnna Carl mystery will be a winner. The trivia and vivid descriptions of the luscious confections are enough to make you hunger for more!”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  “A fast-paced, light read, full of chocolate facts and delectable treats. Lee is an endearing heroine.... Readers will enjoy the time they spend with Lee and Joe in Warner Pier and will look forward to returning for more murder dipped in chocolate.”

  —The Mystery Reader

  The Chocolate Bear Burglary

  “Descriptions of exotic chocolate will have you running out to buy gourmet sweets . . . a delectable treat.”

  —The Best Reviews

  The Chocolate Cat Caper

  “A mouthwatering debut and a delicious new series! Feisty young heroine Lee McKinney is a delight in this chocolate treat. A real page-turner, and I got chocolate on every one! I can’t wait for the next.”

  —Tamar Myers

  “One will gain weight just from reading [this] . . . delicious . . . the beginning of what looks like a terrific new cozy series.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Enjoyable . . . entertaining . . . a fast-paced whodunit with lots of suspects and plenty of surprises . . . satisfies a passion for anything chocolate. In the fine tradition of Diane Mott Davidson.”

  —The Commercial Record (MI)

  ALSO BY JOANNA CARL

  The Chocolate Cat Caper

  The Chocolate Bear Burglary

  The Chocolate Frog Frame-Up

  The Chocolate Puppy Puzzle

  The Chocolate Mouse Trap

  The Chocolate Bridal Bash

  The Chocolate Jewel Case

  The Chocolate Snowman Murders

  Crime de Cocoa

  OBSIDIAN

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  First Printing, October 2010

  Copyright © Eve K. Sandstrom, 2009

  All rights reserved

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  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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  ISBN : 978-1-101-55845-4

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  For my special pals,

  Sherry, Louisa, and Linda

  Acknowledgments

  As ever, thanks are due to many people who helped with this book. Foremost are my Michigan neighbors: Susan McDermott, Tracy Paquin, and Dick Trull. Lawmen Jim Avance and Robert “Officer Bob” Swartz were kind and informative. My daughters and sons-in-law, Betsy and Sam Peters and Ruth and Bart Henson, and my son, John Sandstrom, answered many questions at moments that were convenient for me, but not always for them. Holland, Michigan, librarian Robin Williams-Voight, was a great help. And Dr. Marty Ludlum purchased the right to have his name—not his appearance or personality!—used in this book with a generous contribution to the Lawton, Oklahoma, Arts for All drive.

  I’d also like to thank my agent, Maureen Walters, and my editor, Tracy Bernstein, for their unfailing help and encouragement.

  Chapter 1

  The name on the stranger’s ID card may have read Valentine, but he was no cupid.

  Cupid is little, round, and cute, and this guy was tall, skinny, and ugly. He definitely didn’t look as if he could flit around on a tiny pair of wings; he clunked into TenHuis Chocolade in heavy snow boots that seemed to be bigger than they needed to be. And he wasn’t wearing Cupid’s airy draperies. His scrawny neck stuck out of a parka shaped like a turtle’s shell covered with cheap nylon and trimmed with fur from some polyester beast.

  I had Valentines, cupids, hearts, and arrows on the brain because it was the first week in February, and our retail shop was decked with items celebrating Valentine’s Day. Our workshop, of course, was way out ahead of that season. The highly skilled people back there—the ones I call the “hairnet ladies”—were producing Easter bunnies and eggs, tiny chocolate chicks, and Mother’s Day roses.

  We don’t have much walk-in business in the winter; summer is the busy season for Lake Michigan beach resorts like Warner Pier. As business manager, I was handling the counter myself, so I left my office to wait on the customer. He didn’t look like the romantic type, but if he had a sweetheart I was willing to sell him a pound of our handmade European-style bonbons and truffles.

  Before I could offer to help him, he flipped that identification card out on the counter. “Derrick Valentine,” he said. His voice croaked, and he smelled like cigarettes. When he opened his mouth, I expected smoke to pour out. “I’m with PDQ Investigations. Do you have a Christina Meachum working here?”

  His hand hovered over the ID card, partly hiding it, but I picked it up and read it carefully. The only additional information I learned was that PDQ Investigations had an Atlanta address. The card didn’t seem to be issued by any official agency.

  “As I’m sure you’re aware,” I said, “we’re limited in what information we can hand out about our employees. But that’s no problem this time, because there is no Christina Meachum listed on our payola. I mean, payroll!”

  Rats! I’d twisted my tongue. At least Derrick Valentine didn’t know me. He wouldn’t realize I usually did that when I was nervous.

  “Maybe you’ve seen her.” Valentine dropped a photograph onto the counter.

  The picture was of terrible quality. It had been blown up from a driver’s license or some other ID card. It showed a woman with dark hair worn in a mediumlength bob, parted on the side. Her eyes were dark and expertly made up, but her stare was blank. Her face was heart-shaped, her mouth small and pouting. Only her eyes were noticeable, and that was because of the makeup.

  I frowned at the picture. “I’m sorry,” I said. “She’s a common type, of course, but I can’t help you. Why are you looking for her?”

  “It’s a legal matter.”

  “She’s wanted by the police?”

  “Civil case.” Valentine reached inside his cheap parka. “I’ll leave a business card. I’d appreciate a call if she shows up.”

  “Why do you think she might be here? Is she a big fan of expensive chocolate?”

  “She has experience in food service. And we have information that she’s been in this area of Michigan.” Valentine gestured at our decorated counters. “While I’m here, maybe I ought to get some candy for my wife.”

  I didn’t correct his terminology—we make “chocolate‚” not “candy.” I just handed him a list of our flavors with the price per pound marked prominently at the top. Our chocolates are expensive; I never want to fill a box without making sure the customer knows ahead of time just how much it’s going to cost.

  “While you’re looking this over, I need to give the workroom a message,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I went to the door to the workshop and called out‚ “Aunt Nettie!”

  My aunt, who owns TenHuis Chocolade and who is in charge of making our luscious chocolates, turned. “Yes, Lee.”

  “There’s a problem with the sugar organ. I mean, order! We need to talk about the sugar order as soon as you’re free.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” Aunt Nettie—a chunky descendant of west Michigan’s Dutch pioneers—turned to one of her crew, Pamela Thompson. “Please go to the back storeroom and get a tray of eight-ounce bunnies. The ones carrying baskets.”

  Pamela was one of our newer employees. Her blond hair was covered with a heavy white food service hairnet, and she wore a white smock like all the other women who make our fabulous bonbons and truffles. She stopped wrapping Easter eggs in cellophane and obeyed Aunt Nettie without a word.

  I went back to the counter, and at Derrick Valentine’s instruction filled a half-pound box with Italian Cherry bonbons (“Amareena cherries in white chocolate cream filling encased in a dark chocolate heart”) and Amaretto truffles (“A milk chocolate interior flavored with almond liqueur and coated with white chocolate”). I tied the box with red ribbon, then embellished it with a dangling cupid—plastic covered with gold paint. The private eye paid his bill and left, and I went back into my office, which has glass walls so that I can see what’s going on in the workroom and in the shop.

  I could also see parts of the quaint shopping district outside our big front window. I watched as Derrick Valentine of PDQ Investigations crossed the street, walked to the corner, leaned against the show window of Peach Street Antiques, and lit a cigarette.

  Was he watching TenHuis Chocolade? I tried not to stare at him. I didn’t know whether or not he could see me through our big front window.

  Aunt Nettie slid into my office, looking nervous. “Who was that man?”

  “He’s a private eye. He was looking for a Christina Meachum.”

  She relaxed visibly and adjusted the white net over her blond-white hair. “That’s okay, then.”

  “No, it’s not okay. Christina Meachum was the name, but the photo he showed me was a ‘before’ picture of Pamela.”

  We looked at each other seriously. Neither of us knew just what to do.

  Pamela was a special employee.

  Only a couple of months earlier had I been allowed to learn something that Aunt Nettie had known for much longer. One of her closest friends, Sarajane Harding, was involved in that mysterious underground railway system that helps abused women permanently escape from their abusers by furnishing them with new identities and finding them new homes.

  Sarajane, Aunt Nettie told me, had herself formerly been an abused wife. Because she ran one of Warner Pier’s best bed-and-breakfast inns, she could provide temporary lodging without causing comment about strange people coming and going, and she wa
s often called on to house these unfortunate women briefly.

  This “underground railway” system is not like the shelters for abused women found in most cities. It is not used for women who simply need to escape a violent husband or lover until things cool down or until they can take legal action. Sarajane was involved in much more serious cases, cases in which the railway “conductors” believed the women were in danger of death, in which the only option seen for them was a new identity, a new life in a new place. If strange men came looking for them, there was a strong possibility that those men were dangerous.

  Normally Aunt Nettie would not take part in this activity. For one thing, its legality may be questioned, since it won’t work without creating fake IDs, and Aunt Nettie is married to Warner Pier’s chief of police. Hogan Jones, her husband of less than a year, might close his eyes to the situation briefly—he despises abusive husbands—but he couldn’t ignore it permanently. So Aunt Nettie and Sarajane were careful not to let him know what was going on.

  I’d also been careful not to mention Pamela and her problems to my husband, Joe Woodyard. After all, he is Warner Pier’s city attorney, on the days when he’s not restoring antique powerboats. I didn’t want to put him in a bad position either. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  Pamela was the second of Sarajane’s passengers who had needed a job from TenHuis Chocolade. I’m sure Sarajane had employed some women at the B&B, but she had never asked us to hire one until right before Christmas, and that woman worked only a week. Since the women had to be paid off the books, the accountant in me didn’t like it, but it’s hard to turn your back on people in this much trouble.