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

  “How?” As soon as she could speak, Mac began to sputter, “How did he…” Louis shushed her and held her at a distance to get a better look at her neck. His long fingers traced the fading red marks where Jimmy’s fingers had squeezed.

  “Just a bruise I expect. No lasting damage,” he said, more to himself. “He must’ve broken in. You’ll likely find a window smashed somewhere.”

  “My jacket.” Mac said, her throat gravelly and dry, “I left my jacket at his house. I was wearing the stupid thing at the funeral…”

  Louis took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the station for backup. Holding the phone to his ear, he shook his head slightly and smiled.

  “Thank heaven for that.” he mumbled.

  “For what?”

  He looked up, shocked, as if he hadn’t known he had been talking aloud.

  “Oh. Um. Well, if I hadn’t had the courage to come knock on your door and collect that kiss I should’ve given you in the car, our boy Jimmy might have got to you first.”

  Before Mac could respond, Detective Stocker was barking into his phone, rounding up the entire Mackenzie Bay Police Department to take away their new prime suspect.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The giant, neon yellow meteor rushed toward her. Without the time (or the reflexes) to dodge it, she anticipated the impact, unable to look away as the fuzzy orb wailed toward her at disturbing speed. Then a THWOCK reverberated both in her head and throughout the empty tennis courts.

  “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry.” Brie jumped across the net and ran toward her. Even in her stunned state, Mac could see that she was doing her best not to burst out laughing. The closer she got, the more difficult it became however, and by the time she was at Mac’s side, she was giggling, “Didn’t you hear me say service, you big nerd? You’ve got a perfect ball-shaped red mark right there…” Brie gingerly touched the spot on Mac’s forehead where the tennis ball had collided.

  As annoying as it was, a good swift hit on the head with a tennis ball was exactly what Mac needed. She had been lost in thought for the last two days, ever since the detective had called with the news.

  “Good news is we’ve got him in custody and he’s staying that way.” Detective Stocker had called her the morning after he had essentially rescued her from an enraged Jimmy. “A sigh of relief is in order.”

  “The bad news?” Mac has asked, her voice muffled from the fortress of blanket she was wrapped in.

  “Well, it looks like your career as a detective isn’t taking off like you thought. We’re still without a murder weapon and although Jimmy’s DNA is all over those clothes, wash your hands by the way, it’s nowhere near the crime scene.”

  She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since that phone call. She had been certain everything was wrapped up. It had to be. She didn’t break into houses and get attacked by psychopaths for nothing.

  Now, she was just as obsessed as ever. Apparently so obsessed that she didn’t even see a ball hurtling toward her in the middle of a tennis court. She was lucky if she could concentrate on what Brie was saying, let alone get out of the way of flying objects.

  “You need to get out of your head. Stop thinking about it! Look! Look around you!” Brie spread her arms wide to encompass the elegance of the Mackenzie Bay Sports Club like some manic game show presenter.

  It was certainly beautiful. All kelly green and bright white, it was the kind of club where you had to subject your family tree to minute scrutiny to apply for membership. Usually, Mac only came with her grandfather, but Brie had suggested it as a distraction. The club owners had been more than happy to see her, however, and the staff had fluttered about the two of them as if they were royalty.

  “You are, kinda.” Brie had mumbled when Mac complained. “You think they would let me within a mile of here if you weren’t around?”

  Brie did her best to play this up, of course. She bounced in front of Mac, desperate for her attention, dolled up in her most obnoxious retro workout gear. Mac couldn’t help but smile at the rainbow sweatband and matching knee socks.

  “Your closet is like a Hollywood costume department.”

  “Oooh… you like?” Brie turned and showcased her tiny backside, clad in neon spandex leggings.

  “Ugh… not that much.”

  Brie leaned down to pick up the ball that had assaulted her friend.

  “Let’s play… clear your head a bit.”

  She jogged back to her place on the other side of the net as Mac positioned herself with considerably less enthusiasm.

  “It’s just…” Mac began with a pause.

  Brie groaned and her shoulders slumped, “It’s just what?”

  “Louis… Detective Stocker said that the only forensic evidence they found was some weird yellow fabric strands and what the lab determined was steel wool. I just can’t get my head around what that might be. I swear to all that is holy, if we can crack that, we can solve this.”

  “We? C’mon, Mac. You are the partner of the town’s newest and may I say, most successful chocolate shop. You are not on the police force. Seriously, leave it to Mr. Tall, Gangly, and British to solve. Just support my brilliance, that’s all you need to do. Let’s get…”

  “Hello, ladies. Up for doubles?” The girls spun to face the gate built into the neatly trimmed hedgerow that surrounded the court. Cameron Dunleavy and his continually attached roommate Mark slipped through, all swagger and expensive sneakers. Cameron smiled brilliantly, which due to the inherent darkness of his features, had the exact opposite of its intended effect. Smarmy, Mac thought. Smarmy then and smarmy now.

  She was immediately reminded of all the awkward encounters between them before that blissful autumn when they both left for university. Although she could’ve easily gotten into Yale, she chose Harvard the moment she found out where Cameron had decided to attend. She had endured enough press luncheons, summer clambakes, ice skating parties and cripplingly embarrassing dances with the Dunleavy scion to last her a lifetime. Particularly when they became increasingly about groping and less about childish teasing.

  “We hadn’t even started yet, actually.” Brie said practically growling at them from across the court.

  “Perfect timing, then!” Cameron said, that smile still plastered all over his face. “Do you two come to this club often? I’ve been here almost every day these last two weeks and haven’t seen you around.”

  Mac almost bit her tongue. For someone recently bereaved, who’d discovered his mother’s body himself, a top shelf athletic club seemed like an odd place to find consolation. She had to say something; she just had to be careful about it.

  “I’m not the athletic type.” Mac said. Cameron walked closer, his racket carefully sheltered in a leather case swung over his shoulder

  “Could’ve fooled me, Catharine.” His eyes swept over her with that insolent skill bred into rich fraternity boys.

  “How are you holding up?” No trace of sympathy in her voice, she managed to get his gaze up from her breasts to her face. “It must be hard. Such a shock.”

  Where was Brie’s typical snort of laughter? She was her wingman when it came to these kinds of confrontations. Mac looked to her friend and found her staring at the tennis ball in her hand, a frown knitting her strong brows together.

  “It was.” Cameron visibly stiffened. His roommate Mark began to scratch his arms impatiently. He looked at Cameron as intently as Brie was examining the tennis ball. “A loss like that can really set you back. I guess we’re in the same boat.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It doesn’t look like I’ll be heading back to Yale any time soon. Too much to do with mother’s estate and all the properties. Your chocolate shop, Sabrina’s house… everything is behind in rent right now. And then there’s the political side of things. It’s overwhelming.”

  Mac waited for Brie to grunt, “I bet,” or “You don’t say,” but her friend was uncharacteristically silent.

  “This is where my
business degree and Mark come in handy. I couldn’t ask for better support. He’ll be my right-hand man. So really… we’re perfect for doubles. In more than one capacity.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  Finally Sabrina spoke, but there was urgency to her tone that diminished the sarcasm. She grabbed both their bags from the side of the court and then rushed to grab Mac, babbling, “Cameron, you and Marky-Mark can have the court…we’ve got to go. Sorry about your mom.” Brie hooked her hand around Mac and practically dragged her across the court.

  They could hear Cameron chuckle as they rushed out.

  “Next time then,” he called after them.

  Once out of earshot with the gate shut behind them, Brie turned to Mac, her eyes enormous with excitement.

  “Tennis balls,” she whispered. “It’s tennis balls!”

  “Tennis balls?” Mac repeated numbly, confused.

  “Yes!” Unable to contain her enthusiasm, Brie shouted, causing the patio full of silver-haired elite above them to look in their direction. Brie grabbed Mac again and started pulling her toward the parking lot.

  “That Mark thing… he reminded me of it. Remember Jay? That guy I dated out of high school?”

  “Gun Nut Jay?” Mac struggled to keep up with Brie’s determined stride.

  “Exactly. That Mark guy looks just like Gun Nut Jay and that got me thinking. Gun Nut Jay…tennis balls.” Brie practically dragged Mac to the front awning of the club.

  “You need to fill me in a bit more, here.” Mac said, breathlessly handing her keys to the valet.

  “He used to make all kinds of illegal shit in our apartment and one of them was this silencer. He got the plans from some seriously underground neo-Nazi guy on the Internet.”

  Mac gaped at her, unsure where this bizarre trip down memory of ex-boyfriend lane was going. “So?” she asked impatiently.

  “Main components? Tennis balls and steel wool.” Mac froze as fireworks seemed to explode in her brain. “Yellow threads and metal strands.” Sabrina glowed, practically hopping up and down with excitement.

  “We need to go to the house,” Mac announced as her car pulled up. “We need to get there now. The police can’t find any trace of the weapon because they haven’t been looking for the right thing in the right place.”

  It was her turn to plant a big kiss on Brie’s forehead. “These sudden flashes of brilliance from you? Priceless.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When they parked the car outside the gates to the Dunleavy estate, the late afternoon light was dimming. The world had taken on a silvery tinge that would in no time turn gently into darkness. They didn’t have much time before it became impossible to see without a flashlight, let alone unearth a homemade silencer.

  “We could come back later.” Brie said, trying to keep up with Mac. She should’ve known better. Mac was on a mission, her jaw set and her eyes dangerously hard. “It’s not like we have to ‘crack the case’ tonight or anything.” Mac ignored her as she scooted alongside the hedge toward the gate.

  “It’s locked.” Mac groaned. “Of course it’s locked. We’ll have to find another way in.”

  “Mac! Remember what happened the last time you broke into someone’s home? Strangled? Remember? Had to be rescued? Sound familiar?”

  Mac sighed and finally made eye contact with her worried friend. “You don’t have to come. All right? I’m just going to look. I’m not even going to try the doors or anything. You can keep watch. Or you can go home, but either way, I have to see.”

  The two girls starred at each other, the light melting into blue around them. This was the moment; Brie was smart enough to see that. If she decided enough was enough and walked away from the whole drama, Mac would still go through with it. Seventeen years of friendship—she couldn’t turn her back now. Mac looked haunted in the fading light, her feline features were blanker than she’d ever seen them. She was a woman possessed.

  “All right,” Brie said, squaring her shoulders. “We head down to the guesthouse by the beach. It has a perfect view and I’ll keep watch from there. I’m only staying if you let me call the detective if even the slightest thing goes wrong.”

  She was relieved when Mac smiled.

  “Perfect. Let’s go.”

  The girls made their way down to the ocean. The tall hedge that bordered the property ended at the cliff, enabling the girls to walk onto the property from the beach.

  In silence, both their hearts pounding, they climbed the stairs from the pier, past the main boathouse and up to the guesthouse that sat on the cliff.

  The main house was dark, and for all appearances, it was completely deserted. The wind began to pick up, sending a chill through both women. Mac had been in such a rush to get to the estate that they hadn’t bothered to stop and get changed. Still dressed for a jaunty afternoon at the club, Mac was regretting her choice in tennis skirts.

  Brie took her phone from the pocket of her hoodie. With chilled fingers she punched in 911. She held it up, the screen bright in the twilight.

  “You see this?” She said, “I see anything that makes me nervous, I’m pressing connect.”

  “Got it.” Mac said. “I’ll be quick. I just…”

  “I know,” Brie grumbled. “You’ve just GOT to see.”

  Mac wordlessly turned and jogged down the path to the house. Brie watched her go, with what wisdom she had left urging her to dial the number and get the detective here sooner rather than later.

  Maybe it was the way the house seemed to lean toward Mac as she neared it, like an animal waiting to attack. Maybe it was the innocence of Mac’s white tennis skirt and swinging ponytail… whatever it was, she had an awful feeling and it was only getting worse.

  ***

  As she ran down to the house, Mac calculated her route. She needed to find the window of the main bedroom where the shooting had occurred. If the murderer had used the homemade silencer as they had suspected, chances are he wouldn’t have taken the time to bury it or hide it somewhere clever. If anything, he would’ve tossed it to the side and made a run for it.

  It was a theory at least and a good place to start.

  The wind from the ocean died down as she approached the house, as did the continual roar of the waves. What she was left with was an ominous silence that magnified every twig she stepped on and every breath she took.

  In her head, Mac worked out which window was Victoria’s bedroom. She’d spent enough time at the house growing up to be able to create a floorplan in her head and identify the right window. Of course, it’s on the other side. Mac thought, out of Brie’s view and into trouble. She turned back to look at where she could still see Brie’s shadow by the guesthouse. In the growing dim, she could just make out the glow of her phone. It was going to be fine. No one was home and they’d be out of danger in a second.

  Mac raised her hand to signal she was going around the other side.

  Carefully, her heart thumping in her ears, Mac made her way around the home. She ducked down as she passed the main floor bay doors and windows, just in case. Just in case what? There was obviously no one there. Unconsciously, she put her hand to her throat lightly where Jimmy had grabbed her a few days before.

  Maybe she was getting in too deep.

  At the other side of the house it became suddenly very still. The sheer size of the stone building easily blocked out the sound and view of the ocean and unfortunately, any light as well. Mac would have to be quick if she were going to find anything.

  The french doors to Victoria’s bedroom were the largest on that side and the room was right in the center of the house. There was a straight drop off the balcony down to a carefully maintained flower garden. This was it.

  Mac closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the killer would have done. Six shots fired. Six holes blasted through. Doors flung open wide, perhaps? Silencer ripped off the gun with shaking hands and flung out?

  It was a possibility.

  She carefully worke
d her way through the garden, her white tennis shoes sinking into the black dirt. Squinting, Mac crouched to examine the undersides of shrubs and flowerbeds. Nothing.

  She made her way to a clump of yellow flowers in full bloom in the center of the garden. It was getting harder and harder to see as the twilight rapidly turned to dark. She could barely make out the shapes of the flowers any more, let alone find anything that resembled a…

  Tennis ball.

  There. Mac gasped. Barely noticeable, Mac made out a rounded shape among the thick yellow blooms. There was no way anyone would’ve seen it if they hadn’t known what to look for.

  “Brie…you beautiful creature.” Mac said, a little louder than necessary. She reached into the flowers and pulled a damp, singed, and badly made silencer out. This was it, they had done it.

  Too excited to be stealthy, Mac turned to race back to Brie but stopped.

  “Hello, Catharine.”

  Cameron stood in the dark before her. His arms crossed over his chest, his face twisted in a predatory smile.

  “Cameron… I… what are you…” Mac began to speak but stopped when the hulking figure of Mark turned the corner of the house and walked toward them. He had something in his hand. Something that caught the last of the light and glinted silver.

  Mac felt panic rip through her, weakening her knees.

  “I was just…”

  “You were just what? Seriously, Catharine. I am very interested in what you are doing, wandering around my dead mother’s house. What story can you possibly invent that will get you out of this?”

  Mark laughed dryly, coming to a stop on the other side of where Mac stood.

  “It better be good.” Mark said, “Because you have something that belongs to me.”

  Mac gripped the silencer tighter. Her legs ached to run but she could see that the silver thing in Mark’s hand was exactly what she had thought it was.