The chocolate frog frame-up: a chocoholic mystery Page 6

  “I’m not really the owner at all. The owner is Clementine’s estate. I’m just the executor. The estate acquired the property as settlement for a debt. But it was of limited value, because the ordinance required that the old Root Beer Barrel be preserved. I admit I gave a loud ‘hurrah’when the storm blew the thing down. But I didn’t help it along.”

  We all stood silently, contemplating the fate of the old Root Beer Barrel. Him Chief Jones spoke. ”At the time, nobody suggested that the Barrel had any help coming down. I don’t know how we could figure out what happened to it now, three or four months after it happened. I’ll talk to Trey and some of the other experts. But as Patsy says, it probably doesn’t matter at this point.”

  The circling boats had left by then. Patsy and Frank drove off in their SUV, and Jerry Cherry and the chief began to load up some equipment. The trees all around were closing in on me. I moved a little closer to Joe.

  He spoke to me quietly. ”I guess I need to get you home.”

  “Do you?”

  “Our romantic evening is completely shot.”

  “I guess so. At least we had a good dinner.” I led Joe inside the shop, out of sight of the chief and Jerry Cherry. ”May I have a good night hug?”

  Joe obliged. He expanded the hug to include a kiss. And another kiss.

  “I guess we don’t have to take a boat ride,” I said.

  Another pause. ”We could go by the shop,” I suggested. ”The break room ought to be deserted. I could make coffee.”

  “Well, it would make an awful nice interlude before I go to jail,” Joe said. ”Could I have a double fudge bonbon?”

  ” ‘Layers of milk and dark chocolate fudge with dark chocolate coating.’ You could have two.”

  “Yum, Yum. I’ll have to lock up.”

  “I could help you.”

  Joe and I went back down the dock, and he fastened the sedan in its proper place, locking its mooring chain. Chief Jones and Jerry called out goodbyes, promising to be back early in the morning.

  Joe followed the chief to Jerry’s car. ”If I’m not around, and you need to get into the shop, there’s a key and a magnetic case behind the drainpipe at the corner of the building.” He pointed to the corner he meant.

  We waved, and the Warner Pier police car drove away. Joe and I watched as their lights disappeared behind the trees that surrounded the shop. Then we got in Joe’s truck, alone at last. I moved over to the center of the truck, and Joe put his arms around me. We sat there several minutes, fully occupied with each other. The windows of the truck were rolled up. It was really dark.

  Then I gasped. ”Oh!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I left my tote bag in the sedan.”

  Joe nibbled my ear. ”I guess you need it.”

  “I guess so.”

  He nibbled again. ”I’ll get it for you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be waiting.”

  Joe fished a large, square flashlight out from under the seat of the pickup, then got out of the truck. He closed the door. I could hear his footsteps crunching over the gravel and could see the beam from his flashlight bouncing over the ground as he walked around the side of the shop. Then the light disappeared, but I could still see it reflected overhead on those scary trees. The sound of Joe’s footsteps faded away, and all I could hear was the night insects.

  Then a voice hissed out of the darkness. ”Ms. McKinney! Ms. McKinney!”

  Someone rapped on the passenger’s side window.

  Chapter 6

  If I didn’t wet my pants, it was because I was too busy trying to restart my heart. It had come to a dead stop. My head, however, whirled toward the sound at the speed of light.

  I don’t know if I whispered or shouted. ”Who’s there?”

  “It’s me. Hershel Perkins.” The croaking voice was unmistakable.

  “Hershel!”

  Oddly enough, knowing it was Hershel outside the truck calmed my fears. Hershel was strange, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I rolled the window partway down. ”Hershel! We thought you were dead! Where have you been?”

  “I’m hiding.”

  I tried to open the truck’s door, but Hershel pressed against it, holding it closed. ”No! Don’t open the door! I don’t want any light.”

  “Why not? You must be hurt. We need to get help for you.”

  “I’m not hurt as bad as some folks want me to be.”

  “People think Joe rammed your canoe. We’ve got to tell the police you are all right.”

  “No! I can’t trust them.”

  “Sure you can.”

  “No! I saw all those people on the dock. They’re out to get me!”

  “The police? Your sister? Surely not.”

  “Oh, Patsy might be all right. But there’s Frank. I don’t know about him.”

  “Joe was there. He doesn’t want to hurt you. And Trey’s always been nice to you, hasn’t he? They’ll be relieved to find out your all right.”

  “No! They may all be in it together.”

  “Why, Hershel? Why would anybody – anybody at all – want to hurt you?”

  “I don’t know why. But they do!”

  Suddenly I didn’t want to be alone with Hershel. This was not the harmless crank who had come into TenHuis Chocolade for a free treat every day. This was a new Hershel, one who feared other people, who might strike out, thinking he was protecting himself.

  “Joe’s just on the other side of the shop.” My voice almost trembled. ”He’ll be back in a minute.”

  “I’ve got to be gone before he comes. The only person who can help me is your aunt.”

  “Aunt Nettie? How can she help?”

  “She’s the only one I can trust! Don’t tell anybody else. I’ll meet her at the old Chapel at midnight.”

  “The old Chapel? What old Chapel?”

  “She’ll know where I mean. Midnight!”

  Footsteps skittered over the gravel, and Hershel was gone.

  Suddenly I could make a noise again. ”Joe!” I threw the truck’s door open and stood up with my head outside. ”Joe! Come quick!”

  Immediately I saw the reflection from Joe’s flashlight bouncing around in the trees. I heard the crunch, crunch, crunch as he ran through the gravel. He yelled, “What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t make myself get down from the truck. For a minute I stood there, sticking my head out of the cab like a giraffe. Then I sat back down and slammed the door. Joe would be there in a second. He had his cell phone. He to call the police. Jerry, Chief Jones – they’d be back lickety-split. They’d searched the woods for Hershel.

  And they wouldn’t find him.

  It would be impossible to find Hershel in the dark in the woods around Joe’s shop. Hershel could hide in those woods. He could climb a tree or lie down behind a bush. He could listen to everything the searchers did, see a lot of what they did.

  And Hershel would know I hadn’t obeyed his instructions not to tell anyone but Aunt Nettie. He wouldn’t keep his end of the bargain and go to the old Chapel – wherever that was. But meeting him that there might be the simplest way to find him.

  Just as Joe reached the hood of the truck I reached a decision. I couldn’t tell Joe what Hershel had said. Not there, not at the boat shop, with Hershel’s still out in the woods. Maybe close by, listening. No, I had to get away from the there, find Aunt Nettie and ask her how to handle the situation.

  Joe yanked his door open. ”What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. ”I guess my imagination got the best of me.”

  “Huh?”

  I spoke loudly and distinctly. ”I thought I heard something. I got scared. But I guess it was just an animal.”

  Joe stood there, staring at me. I’m not usually the clingy type – even when I’m threatened by trees. I could tell he was mystified. But I couldn’t worry about that.

  “Joe, could we get out of here?”

  “Sure.” Joe handed me my totebag and slid behind the s
teering wheel. He started the truck’s motor.

  “I need to get the van and head home,” I said. I slid over next to the right-hand door and fastened my seatbelt.

  Joe turned his head toward me. In the dim light from the dash I could see that he looked more mystified than ever. And maybe angry. But I couldn’t help that.

  “You sure change your mood in a hurry,” he said. New paragraph scratch that

  Yikes! I’d forgotten that I’d offered Joe coffee and chocolate at TenHuis Chocolade. Now I was having to back out. ”I’m sorry. But I’ve got to see Aunt Nettie.”

  “Your aunt?”

  “It’s important.”

  “What’s wrong, Lee?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Did I do something? Say something?”

  “No! No, I just got to pick up my van and get home to see Aunt Nettie. Let’s go!”

  Joe stared another moment. Then he backed the truck around and drove off, down the narrow road that led to the settled part of Warner Pier.

  Once we were away from the shop, I opened my mouth, ready to tell Joe about Hershel. Then I pictured his reaction. He’d certainly never let Aunt Nettie and me meet Hershel at the old Chapel without him. And if Joe was there, Hershel might not come.

  And where was this old Chapel? Was it the place, Patsy had mentioned – the one Hershel went to when he was really frightened? It must be.

  I didn’t know what to do. I waffled all the way to the shop.

  My silent debate was the only conversation that went on. Joe didn’t say a word. He is not usually sulky, but he had a right to be mad – certainly puzzled – by my sudden about-face, building him up for a late night tête-à-tête, then changing my mind. But I was too frantic about how to deal with Hershel to worry about him.

  When we drove down Peach Street, past TenHuis Chocolade, I saw the lights inside. ”Oh. Aunt Nettie’s still here!”

  “Why would she be there soon late?”

  “I don’t know. I hope nothing went wrong with the big kettle clean up. Just pull up in front.”

  The minute the truck stopped moving I opened the door and got out. ”Thanks for the ride.”

  “Lee!”

  “I can’t talk, Joe.”

  I started across the sidewalk, and Joe jumped out of the truck and followed me. ”Lee! What came over you? Did I do something wrong?”

  “No! I just got to see Aunt Nettie.”

  “Why? I want to know what’s going on.”

  “Nothing’s going on!” Inside the shop, back in the work room, I could see Aunt Nettie. She was standing beside that dark chocolate vat. On the work table behind her I could see several big stainless steel bowls.

  “Lee…”

  “Joe, I’ve got to go.”

  I yanked away and turned toward the front door of the shop, but before I could get there, a terrific bang rang out.

  “Lee!” Joe jumped about six feet, grabbed me by the arms and shoved me up against the brick wall beside the door. ”Get down!”

  “Joe! Let me go!”

  “That was a shot!”

  “It was not! Aunt Nettie is breaking chocolate!”

  Joe backed off slightly. ”Breaking chocolate?”

  “Breaking chocolate. We got stuck with some chocolate that comes in ten pound bars. They can’t go into the chocolate vats until they’re broken up.”

  “I never heard that noise around the shop before.”

  “We usually get chocolate in little bits – almost granules. But our supplier substituted bars. Let me go, please.”

  Joe moved away, scowling.

  “I’m sorry, Joe,” I said. ”I know I’m not behaving rationally. But I thought that something while he were getting my bag, and it’s vital that I talked to Aunt Nettie about it.”

  This time Joe didn’t argue. I went into the shop and closed and locked the door behind me. I didn’t look back at him.

  The aroma of warm chocolate enfolded me, and Aunt Nettie looked up. ”Lee? What are you doing here?”

  “Something came up. I had to see you right away.”

  “My goodness! I hope you and Joe didn’t have a fight.”

  “Sort of. But that’s not the important thing.”

  “Back when I was dating your uncle, a fight would have been the most important thing in my life.” She was standing in the middle of the work room, beside a big sheet of white paper which had been laid on the floor. As I came into the work room she picked up a white package about a foot long. She lifted it over her head, then hurled it onto the paper. Bam! She leaned over and picked up the package. Its contents were now obviously in pieces.

  “Oh, Aunt Nettie, listen to what happened.” I poured out the story of the missing Hershel, the damaged canoe, the probability that Joe was a suspect, and, finally, Hershel’s up. It’s at the truck’s window in the dark.

  Aunt Nettie stared at me, idly turning the crumpled package back and forth. Now her eyes were as round as her tummy.

  I looked at my watch. ”And it’s nearly eleven now. Hershel emphasized that he wanted to meet you at midnight. Where is this Chapel anyway? How do we get there?”

  Aunt Nettie’s face took on a look of complete dismay. ”I can’t go,” she said.

  I squinched my eyes closed. She must be afraid. I could hardly blame her. But I had to find Hershel and get him to turn himself in to the chief – or to somebody. It was the fastest way to prove that Joe had nothing to do with running down Hershel’s canoe. And it was the fastest way I could think of to get Hershel to a hospital and to treat any injuries he might have.

  Somebody had to be at the Chapel at midnight. And if I had to go alone, I’d do it.

  “Okay,” I said. ”Just tell me where this Chapel is.”

  “I suppose he means the old Riverside Chapel. It’s just about a mile from Joe’s shop, and there’s a hiking trail along the river. I’m sure Hershel could find it, even in the dark.”

  “Okay. Can you draw me a map? I’ll go alone. I know it’s a scary situation.”

  “I’m not afraid to go!”

  “You probably should be. Hershel is really talking crazy.”

  “Nobody could be afraid of Hershel. It’s this chocolate. I simply have to get these vats going, or will lose a day of work.”

  I took a deep breath. ”How long does it take to get from here to the old Chapel?”

  “Is there a road?”

  “Yes. When I talked about the trail, I was thinking of Hershel. He must be on foot.”

  I checked my watch again. ”So we have forty-five minutes before we have to leave.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” I said. ”Tell me what to to, and will get as much done on the chocolate vats as we can. But I’m dragging you out of here at twenty to midnight. Meeting Hershel at that Chapel is the quickest way to prove Joe did not run his canoe down, and I’m finding that guy and bringing him back.”

  Aunt Nettie smiled. ”Wash your hands, and I’ll tell you what to do.”

  I took off my green sweater and put a big bib apron on over my cream slacks and green and cream shirt. I tucked my hair into a stooge circus hairnet. I washed my hands in approved food service fashion – even turning the water off with the paper towel so that my clean hands didn’t touch the fixture. Aunt Nettie told me to get a knife and start digging chocolate out of the big bowls.

  “Just put a few pieces of the chocolate back in the vats at a time,” she said. ”Remember, chocolate melts easily – the melting point is only ninety-two degrees. But we have to be careful not to put too many pieces in at once. That could jam up the paddles.”

  I eyed the hands of chocolate warily. None of them was very full, but the chocolate in them looked solid. The chocolate obviously had been out of the vat for several hours.

  Aunt Nettie moved over beside the dark chocolate vat, climbed on to a kitchen stepstool, and ripped open the package of chocolate she’d just shattered on the floor. She began putting the chunks into the vat.

>   “First, you can break up three or four more bars of dark chocolate,” she said.

  I whammed the ten pound bars into the floor, then set the packages – now filled with chunks of chocolate – aside. Next I worked on the white chocolate – the smallest kettle – chipping the now solid chocolate from the bowl on the work table into pieces and feeding them into those vat. While I was waiting for the white chocolate to melt, I worked on the pan of milk chocolate. Aunt Nettie was concentrating on the dark chocolate.