Truffles and Troubles: Book 1 in The Chocolate Cafe Series Read online

  Mac rolled her eyes, frustrated that she had to explain herself yet again.

  “He’s already a suspect. They can’t do anything until they have hard evidence. What are they going to do, talk to him again? Look…”

  Mac stopped as they approached Jimmy’s wind-ravaged cottage. Every window was black and from where they stood, there was no car parked outside. “We’re here already. All we have to do is see if we can, you know…”

  “Break and enter? I have a career to think of now. We could end up sharing a cell with him, not part of my five-year plan.”

  Incredulous, Mac turned to her friend. “You have a five-year plan? Aren’t you the girl that has been dragging me through hell and putting me in harms way since sixth grade? Hey...” She took Brie by the arms and turned her so that they were eye to eye. “We have done worse, right?” Brie begrudgingly agreed. “And we survived, right?” Brie nodded again. “And we only live once.” Brie mumbled. “But it’s against my better judgment.”

  “Jeez, a five-year plan AND better judgment. It’s a night of plot twists.”

  Mac smiled her infectious, crooked smile and began climbing the makeshift driftwood steps that led to Jimmy’s backyard. After today’s confrontation in the graveyard, Mac had been obsessed with the idea that he was the bad guy. Why would anyone make threats like that if they didn’t have something to hide?

  Of course her first reaction had been to race down to Louis’s office and tell him everything, but she feared her testimony would go ignored without solid evidence. If she were really honest with herself, she would understand that she wanted to impress the young detective and not seem to be a hysterical type. She’d decided that the best way to do that was to drag her exhausted friend from her bed, throw on a black toque and do a little investigation themselves.

  Still crouched, the girls made their way through the tangle of old fishing equipment, damaged boats, and car parts that turned Jimmy’s back yard into an obstacle course. The porch wasn’t any less crowded and they picked carefully through it toward the back door, which to Mac’s surprise, was locked.

  “Really?” Brie hissed, “You think it’s going to be that easy?”

  Mac glared, slightly embarrassed. “I’m not the expert,” she said. It was Brie’s turn to roll her eyes. She pushed past Mac carefully and tried the window to the right. A slight tug revealed it was locked. Mac waited breathlessly as Brie moved to the second window and pushed upward. There was a creak as the frame gave way and slid upwards.

  The girls blanched and stared at each other.

  “Small towns.” Mac breathed.

  “This is it. Last chance. Your detective is only a phone call away.”

  Mac shook her head. “Not good enough. ‘He was mean to me’ is hardly going to move this case along. We need to get in there.”

  Brie grabbed her shoulder. “Once you go in there, there’s no going back.”

  “So let’s go in there.” Mac pushed past Brie and as quietly as she could, lifted the window up and open.

  They could immediately smell a mixture of mold and rotting food that spoke of neglect. Mac grimaced and hesitated for a second. What if what they unearthed was worse than what either of them were prepared for?

  “Go in, before he comes back.” Brie said, and gently shoved her friend through the window. Mac would’ve tumbled had she not managed to steady herself on the sill. Barely breathing, she slipped through the window and landed softly on the chipped linoleum floor.

  It took a second for her eyes to adjust. She waited, heart pounding, for her friend to join her inside. The house was silent. The only noise was their rapid breathing and the wind pushing angrily against the walls and doors.

  Mac guessed they were in a mudroom of sorts, but it was hard to tell. Boxes were piled up wherever there was space and each box was covered with plates of half-eaten food, newspapers, clothes… The smell that initially hit them was much stronger now that they were in the thick of it. Brie instinctively rolled up her turtleneck to cover her mouth.

  Mac walked toward the door that led to the main house and reached out to turn the knob but stopped. The moonlight from the window revealed some sort of sticky goo sliding down the wall, covering the knob and oozing down to the floor.

  “Don’t touch it!” Brie breathed. “Use something else. Heaven knows what it is.” Without thinking, Mac took her jean jacket off and used to turn the knob. The squeaking as the door opened filled the entire house and the girls froze.

  “We just need to find something and get out. We’ll be quick,” Mac said, more to reassure herself than Brie.

  “What something? We don’t even know what we’re looking for.” Mac ignored her friend’s whispered protest and walked into the darkened house.

  Luckily, the floor plan was almost exactly the same as the cottage Brie rented. It was the same, simple Victorian farmhouse design that made up the majority of the area. However, unlike Brie, who had made her home warm and inviting, Jimmy had allowed his to resemble a garbage dump.

  The girls walked carefully through empty cat food cans, mountains of dusty books, and a wall of bulging garbage bags. They saw nothing that might point to Jimmy as the murderer.

  Mac slipped from the downstairs hallway, past the stairs and into what must have been Jimmy’s bedroom. The only way she knew this was because she could make out what looked like a queen-sized bed covered by rugs and dirty clothing.

  Barely breathing, she moved forward toward the bed. Something had caught her eye. Something that did not belong in this kingdom of rubbish: white satin.

  Her hand shaking, she reached out and pulled an expensive negligee from under the pile. As it slid out from under the rolled-up rugs, it dragged another along with it. Then a pair of nylons. Then a skirt. Then a dress. A Christian Dior dress. One of those celebrated Dior sheaths Victoria often wore for television appearances and social functions.

  This was it. The link that connected Jimmy to the crime.

  An excited shaking began in Mac’s knees and she turned to show her discovery to Brie.

  She was standing by the window, watching as a pair of headlights turned the corner of the short street.

  “Oh no…please, please,please…” Brie began to beg.

  “It’s Victoria’s dress!” Mac said, too triumphant to whisper. “He has her clothes! This is a real link!!” Brie turned to her, deaf to her discovery, her eyes wide with panic.

  “We need to get out of here, he’s coming…” She said, her voice rising in panic. “Go-go-go-go…” Her arms full of Victoria’s stolen clothing, Mac followed Brie as she made her way back to the window through the dark maze of a house.

  The headlights from Jimmy’s car slashed across their bodies as they both tumbled out the back window. Brie was just shutting the window when Mac’s heart exploded in her chest. She went momentarily dizzy with panic.

  “My jacket!” Mac yelped. “Oh, no! I left my jacket in there when I used it on that doorknob…” Brie grabbed her arm and pulled her off the porch

  “Just leave it,” she hissed, maneuvering Mac and her armful of clothes through the backyard, “He’ll never find it, not in that mess.”

  The two of them flew awkwardly down the steps to the beach. Once safely hidden in the shadow of the cliff, they crouched and tried to catch their breath.

  “I’ve got to go back.” Mac said, her voice trembling. “If he finds my coat he’ll link it to me and we’ll be in massive trouble.”

  “No.” Brie said, “You’ve got to get that stuff to the detective. Unless you’ve written your name inside your coat, he won’t be able to trace it back.”

  The girls froze as squares of light from Jimmy’s windows suddenly stretched across the dark sand. For a second, they could see his slim silhouette appear, stretched out of proportion and all the more menacing for it.

  “You’re right,” Mac said, “Let’s get out of here.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mac had been doing a pretty good jo
b keeping her hands from shaking. However, when Detective Stocker passed her a cup of tea, they fluttered just enough to grab his attention. He closed the car door, looking at her carefully in the multi-colored light from the convenience store.

  “I don’t think it’s proper tea,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. “I don’t even think you can get proper tea around here.”

  “Are you saying Clamshell Convenience and Liquor doesn’t sell a proper British cup of tea? Ridiculous.” She tried to lift the paper cup to her mouth to take a sip but found her hands were continuing to betray her. It must be leftover adrenaline.

  “You know I appreciate this, but really…” Mac said putting the cup, betrayer that it was, in the cup holder beside her. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Of course you will. I know that. But a threat is a threat and those clothes you pilfered … Well, it adds another dimension to the whole thing. It’s procedure that’s all.” Louis smiled at her and put the car into reverse. “Is that shaking because you’re secretly terrified of driving with a expat Brit? You know, I’ve almost mastered your whole right side of the road nonsense.”

  Of course he had noticed. He was a detective. She doubted much of anything slipped by him. He pulled out of the deserted parking lot and onto the road. Mac saw the ‘open’ sign turn off abruptly as they did so. Was it as late as that?

  She was suddenly keenly embarrassed. What kind of woman spends an entire evening breaking into someone’s house?

  “I’ll take you home, settle down outside and do a bit of homework. Trust me…” He was looking at her again. “You’ll need a good night’s rest after all that criminal activity.”

  Mac blushed bright red. She went to speak, but found herself unable to defend herself. “I’m…I’m sorry.” She said, “Thank you for not writing it up. Brie was totally against it, the entire time. It was all me.”

  “She was right to be against it. Absolutely dangerous and completely unnecessary. Although…” he stopped as he turned the corner up to the drive of her late grandfather’s home. It was his turn to be speechless. “Great Scott. This is where you live?”

  Mac nodded. It certainly was. It was where she grew up, where she couldn’t wait to get away from and where she was stuck. However, three quarters of a master’s degree, an untimely death and a huge inheritance later… she didn’t see herself leaving any time soon.

  “It’s the biggest house in the town, unfortunately.” Mac said as Louis pulled the car up and under immense stone carriage entrance. “Generations of my family lived here. Practically all of the building materials were shipped over from Scotland.”

  Louis peered up through the car window at the turrets and buttresses, widow’s walks and domes. “It’s magnificent,” he said. “How many people does it take to keep it up?”

  Mac looked down and fiddled with her teacup.

  “I let everyone go once my grandfather died. I didn’t want.… It didn’t seem right to pay for these people to do things for me. Actually…” She looked up and found him gazing at her intently. “I really just wanted to be alone.”

  “Sometimes being alone is the best thing. But in a place like this… it must get a little unsettling on occasion.”

  “I grew up here. I know every nook... and…cranny”

  Mac couldn’t look away from him. She was suddenly acutely aware of his hand on the gearshift, only a few inches away from hers. If she listened carefully she could probably hear his breath moving in and out from between his lips. Lips that had kissed her forehead, moments after they had first met. Lips that she could kiss now. All she needed to do was lean forward.

  Louis suddenly cleared his throat and the moment dissipated like a dandelion puff. He made a show out of picking up a portfolio of papers from the backseat.

  “I’ve got lots of keep me busy tonight,” he said, flipping through the files. “So don’t spare me a thought. Like I said, it’s simple procedure and frankly, it saves me another night suffering from Netflix option paralysis.”

  Disappointment sat in Mac’s stomach like a rock. She hadn’t realized how much she had wanted to kiss him until he made it clear he wasn’t interested. Still, wasn’t he talking a little too fast and moving a little too rapidly too have completely missed the moment?

  “Rather… I can spend my evening trying to understand why yellow fibers and steel wool have anything to do with the shooting. Oh and… watching for ghosts in your windows of course.”

  Mac smiled, doing her best to hide her disappointment

  “Of course,” she said, reaching for her society voice again. She reached for the door and swung it open. Don’t leave the car… her inner voice yelled at her. Just grab him by that floppy brown hair and kiss him. Surveillance from the bedroom is still surveillance, right? She stepped out of the car and leaned down into the open door. “Thanks again for watching and for you know… not locking me up.” He smiled up at her, with what could be longing making him look half his age. Maybe she just wanted it to be longing. Maybe it was all in her head. It usually was.

  “I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” Louis said, winking.

  Mac closed the car door and made her way up the broad marble stairs to the doorway. Dwarfed by the imported wood, she pulled her keys from her jeans pocket. Thank goodness she hadn’t left those in her jacket or this evening would’ve been even more miserable

  She was no good at this part of life—this messy romance portion. No good at all.

  ****

  One long, hot shower later and Mac was almost feeling human again. Exhausted yes, but human. Seeing that the last few weeks had been incredibly busy at work and she had decided to fill her free time with amateur sleuthing, she wasn’t doing so badly.

  Mac pulled her pajamas on, savoring the way the soft jersey fabric felt against her warm skin. Perhaps nothing was as complicated as it seemed. The police were off to find Jimmy and she was protected by Detective Stocker until they did so. Yes, her grandfather had passed and left her the burden of family legacy and fortune, but really, if that was her chief complaint, she should be embarrassed.

  She pulled back the covers of her bed and slipped between them, allowing the cold, heavy duvet to float over and finally land on her tired body. Yes, she was alone, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe it always had been.

  Mac had entered a wonderfully calm state of pre-sleep when a noise jarred her awake. A crash that could only be something heavy falling to the floor came from the center of the house.

  She was immediately wide awake, her heartbeat drumming in her ears and her muscles tensing. In the dark of her bedroom, she strained to make out any further noises. Maybe a raccoon? Or a teetering vase that was one creaking floorboard away from smashing? That same inner voice that had pushed her to kiss Louis earlier was screaming at her to get up and get out.

  Someone was in the house.

  Her body light with fear, Mac slipped noiselessly out of bed and into the hallway. Any switch she could find, she flicked on as she made her way downstairs. In her head she imagined a perfect path from the stairs and out the front door. All she needed to do was get out and get to Louis and she’d be safe.

  Barely breathing, Mac descended the flights of stairs that ran through the center of the house. She scanned every landing as she alighted, her body tense as she waited for the attack of whatever (or whoever) had made the noise.

  Two more floors. One more floor. Get to the front hallway and make it out.

  Numb with nerves, Mac finally made it to the main floor. She began to run toward the door.

  He stepped out of the shadows and directly into her path.

  She couldn’t see his face but knew immediately who it was by the smell, an all too familiar mixture of rot and neglect. She could see his hands, clenching and unclenching at his sides.

  “You should be more careful not to leave things behind when you go snooping in people’s houses.” He growled.

  Just scream. That inner voice again. Scr
eam loud enough and Louis might hear you. But her throat had seized and she was unable to squeak, let alone make noise loud enough to be heard from outside.

  Jimmy held up Mac’s jacket and swung it between the two of them, tauntingly. “People’s things are private for a reason, girl. What made you think you could just break into someone’s house and start taking whatever you like? Oh. That’s right.” He began to move toward where Mac was frozen to the spot. As he approached, she could make out his features in the dim light. His mouth was twisted, furious and worst of all, hungry. He motioned around the massive foyer they stood in. “Richest family in town can do whatever they please, am I right? Well, I think that’s a fine idea. Just burst in and take whatever you want.” He reached out and grabbed Mac, spinning her around so that he held her against his body, one hand at her throat.

  When he pressed himself against her, Mac was finally shaken from her fearful paralysis and she finally heard herself scream. It tore through the house, echoing up the staircase.

  “Shut up!” Jimmy yelled, clasping her throat, “Shut up, you stupid little rich girl…”

  Mac’s eyes filled with tears of rage and fear as Jimmy squeezed her throat tighter, making it impossible for her to call for help. His greasy scent filled her nostrils. This was it; she was going to die with help only a few feet away. She struggled against him, her legs kicking out from underneath her as the carpets gave way to the once well-polished wood.

  She felt Jimmy’s hand go even tighter around her throat and an ominous buzzing filled her ears. She thought her eyes would burst out of her skull as a tremendous pressure began to build.

  Then it stopped.

  Glorious air filled her lungs and Mac collapsed, coughing and gasping on the floor. She heard a thud and Jimmy’s body collapsed beside her, face down in the centuries-old Turkish carpet.

  “You’re all right. I’ve got you.” Louis’s breath tickled her ear. His hands gently lifted her to her feet and his arms wrapped around her, holding her stiff body to his chest. He smelled of cigarettes and sweet skin. He smelled safe.