The Chocolate Snowman Murders 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

  Chapter 21

  Teaser chapter

  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

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

  —Cleo Coyle, author of Espresso Shot

  “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

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

  —Elaine Viets, author of Killer Cuts, a Dead-End Job Mystery

  The Chocolate Snowman Murders

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

  —Publishers Weekly

  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 this is your first.”

  —Suite101

  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

  Crime de Cocoa

  OBSIDIAN

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  First Obsidian Mass Market Printing, October 2009

  Copyright © Eve K. Sandstrom, 2008

  Excerpt from The Chocolate Cupid Killings 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 : 978-1-101-55844-7

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  For the Old Broads—

  Carolyn, Judy, Marcia, and Merline

  Acknowledgments

  With many thanks to many people who helped me with information for this book. They include Betsy Peters, who okays the chocolate bits; lawmen Jim Avance, Bob Swartz, and Lieutenant Ralph Mason; Nancy Anderson, gallery director, artist, and art show expert; Ginny Weber, of Jeff’s Key and Safe; photographer David Gill; truck owner David Walker; and Susanna Fennema, who keeps an eye on new wrinkles in anthropology. As always, I owe my Michigan neighbors, Susan McDermott, Tracy Paquin, and Dick Trull, big-time. And thanks to Johnny Owens, who with a generous donation to the Lawton Arts for All Campaign bought the right to have his real name used for a fictional character.

  Chapter 1

  “If you don’t want to serve on committees,” Maggie McNutt said, “you should stop bringing chocolate to meetings.”

  “Maybe I could send the chocolate and stay home,” I said. “I just don’t understand how I get suckered into these things.”

  “That’s easy to explain. First, they ask you way ahead. . . .”

  “Yeah, last July.”

  “Second, someone you really like and want to get along with is sent to make the request.”

  “Barbara, my banker. She told me she was devastated because she had to step down as treasurer and was desperate to find a replacement who could write a financial report.”

  “Gotcha! You didn’t have a chance.” Maggie laughed and downshifted her red VW Beetle as she turned into the long drive that led to the Warner Point Conference Center. “Come on, Lee! Serving on committees is one of the prices we pay for being Americans. I try to think of it selfishly.”

  “Selfishly? What do you get out of serving on the WinterFest committee? I’m in business in this town. A community promotion is supposed to help TenHuis Chocolade make money. But what does a teacher get out of it?”

  “WinterFest is an extra opportunity for my students to strut their stuff. Besides, I can use the work I do now to blackmail other people into helping with my speech and drama festival in April. I use this committee to get what I want. And I want a lot.”

  Maggie pulled the Beetle into a parking place in front of the conference center’s main entrance. I picked up my briefcase and the box of chocolates I’d brought, then popped the buckle of my seat belt. “Ah, Maggie,” I said, “you do want a lot, but you mainly want it for your kids.”

  “That’s part of it, Lee. We have talented kids at Warner Pier High School, and also kids who can use these activities to improve their personalities and their lives, or just to have fun. But if the kids do well, I do well. My professional reputation is enhanced.”

  We both got out of the VW, and we looked at each other over the top of the car. “Now come on, Lee,” Maggie said. “TenHuis Chocolade isn’t going to go down the tube if the WinterFest flops. So what’s your real, true motivation, Ms. Cynical?”

  “I guess it’s more fun to live in a community where things are happening, so I have to help make ’em happen. Plus, I’m a big girl. I could have told Barbara no. I just like to gripe about it.”

  “And now that we’ve established our self-centered credentials . . .”

  “Ta-da! It’s time for the planning committee for the Warner Pier Winter Arts Festival! Changing the world! One meeting at a time!”

  Maggie began to whistle the Mickey Mouse Club theme song, and I joined in. We did a high five as we fell into step at the front of the Volkswagen, and we kept whistling as we marched through the slushy parking lot and up the steps of the conference center.

  The center had begun life as the lavish summer home of famed defense attorney Clementine Ripley. After she died it wound up as the property of Warner Pier, the prettiest resort town on Lake Michigan. Remodeled to contain a restaurant, banquet and party facilities, meeting rooms, and offices, the collection of limestone buildings was now used year-round. And one of its uses was housing an office and meeting room for the Warner Pier Winter Arts Festival.

  Maggie is speech and drama teacher at Warner Pier High School, and I’m business manager for TenHuis Chocolade, which according to the sign in our window produces and sells “Handmade Chocolates in the Dutch Tradition.” Maggie and I make an ill-matched pair physically, since I’m a shade under six feet tall, and I inherited light blond hair from the TenHuis side of my family, and Maggie is a shade over five feet and has dark hair and eyes. But we are both emotionally committed to Warner Pier, which we regard as the best of the string of quaint resort towns along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan.

  Warner Pier’s business community for several years had sponsored a winter trade and tourist promotion. A couple of years earlier, it had been the “Teddy Bear Getaway” in February. This year we were trying a new time frame—Christmas vacation—and our logo featured a snowman.

  As we reached the door of the conference center, we each gave a salute to one of the festival mascots, a giant snowman. The WinterFest had financed two seven-foot snowmen, similar to athletic team mascots. Each of them could be worn as a costume so that king-sized snowmen could add atmosphere at each of the cultural events of the festival. When they weren’t being worn, one snowman was propped up on Warner Pier’s main drag, Peach Street, and the other guarded the entrance of the conference center.

  Maggie and I kept up the “Mickey Mouse” racket as we came in the building and waved to Jason Foster, who was doing his manager act in the restaurant to the left of the entrance. Then we marched down a long hall to the office of the Winter Arts Festival—WinterFest for short.

  Our levity didn’t seem to please the festival’s immediate past chair, Mozelle French. As we entered she looked at us sharply over the top of her reading glasses. My private nickname for Mozelle is “Civic Virtue.” She takes life a bit too seriously, a trait I find annoying. So, just to annoy her further, I quit whistling and started singing, still to the tune of the theme song of the children’s TV show.

  “W-I-N! T-E-R! F-E-S! Ti! Val!”

  Maggie started singing, too. “WinterFest! WinterFest! Together let us hold i-cic-les high! High! High! High!” Then we whistled the chorus again, ending by banging down our paperwork. The office was furnished with castoffs, so my briefcase and Maggie’s file folder were not going to scar the rickety table. I put the box of chocolates down more gently.

  “I’m glad to see that you two are enjoying this project,” Mozelle said. She didn’t mean that. I could tell by her too-virtuous smile.

  Mozelle didn’t annoy me because she was too good. She annoyed me because she acted too good. According to the local grapevine, Mozelle had grown up in Warner Pier and in her youth had studied art. She still produced anemic watercolors. But twenty-five or thirty years earlier, she had married a dentist and turned into a professional volunteer. Today she was a childless widow and a veteran worker for the Winter Arts Festival, the Autumn Harvest Carnival, the Summer River Gala, and the Spring Home Tour, not to mention the Historical Society, the Study Club, and the Warner Pier Non-Denominational Fellowship Church. I don’t know if she was really good at these things, or she just looked as if she ought to be. Her dark hair was always disciplined into a smooth chignon, her weight was right where the doctor recommended, and her makeup never failed to be perfect.

  “If we can’t enjoy the project, what’s the point?” Maggie said. “And I’m happy to report that the play is shaping up very well. Rehearsals are at seven p.m. every evening this week.”

  Mozelle gestured toward a meek-looking man already seated at the table. “I’m glad someone has some good news. George has lost the juror for the art show.” She made it sound as if George had laid the juror down in the wrong place and couldn’t remember where he put h
im.

  “That was careless of you, George,” I said, “especially since we’d already paid him. Now we’ll have to try to get our money back.”

  “The juror had already selected the show entries from the slides,” Mozelle said. “It will be almost impossible to find another qualified person who’s willing to work from entries someone else selected.”

  “What happened to the original juror?” I said.

  “He’s in the hospital with a broken leg,” George said. “It’s a bad injury. He’ll have to go to rehab. A trip from Washington, D.C., to Michigan is out of the question.” Then he spoke directly to Mozelle. “But I didn’t finish my story. Dr. Jones has recommended a replacement, and I’ve already checked the fellow’s résumé and talked to him. The new man says he can work from Dr. Jones’ preliminary selections, and they’ll split the fee. So the problem is already solved.”

  “Thank goodness!” This news seemed to soothe Mozelle slightly. She sat down near the head of the table, looking a bit less prim, and officiously began to sort through her own papers.