Death By Chocolate: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Shoppe Mysteries - Book 1) Read online

  DEATH BY CHOCOLATE

  A COZY MURDER MYSTERY SHORT (Book 1)

  © 2015 by Cora Wilkins

  COPYRIGHT

  Please respect the work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any similarities to events or situations is also coincidental.

  © 2015 Cora Wilkins

  All Rights Reserved

  DEATH BY CHOCOLATE

  I heard the tinkle of the bell and looked up from the counter, wondering if I already had a customer in my candy store, the aptly-named Sweet Shoppe. No such luck. It was my best friend, Kaye, arriving for the day. I supposed I couldn’t be all that surprised that no one had been in yet – it was only eight o’clock in the morning on a Monday, and not many people were chasing their sweet tooth that early, especially in a small, sleepy New England town like York.

  I did have a snazzy new coffee machine, though, and quite often people would come along for their morning caffeine fix when the main street café was too packed. I hummed to myself as I frothed some milk, and Kaye sighed with relief as I placed a steaming coffee mug in front of her a moment later.

  “Oh, I need this,” she said. “I barely slept a wink last night. Darned dog barking all night. Thanks, Anne.”

  Kaye had lived in York her whole life, and she had spent the last twenty years as a stay-at-home mother to her children. Her husband, Daniel, made a high enough salary to support their whole family on his own, so it made sense for her to stay at home and spend her time giving their kids a wonderful home life. Alas, the youngest had just left for college, and she had a lot less to do around the house now. That was good news for me, though. When I’d moved back here and taken over the candy shop, it had coincided with her youngest leaving home, and she’d offered to help out at the shop.

  I’d grown up in the town just like her, but I’d moved to Boston for quite some time to work as a paralegal. After growing tired of the big city life, I’d moved back to my home town, and I was enjoying almost every moment. Like any small town, it had its downsides – the occasional overly-gossipy people, everyone knowing everyone else’s business, bored young teenagers running amok when they couldn’t find anything better to do…you know the drill. But all in all, it was a strong community, and everyone pitched in when someone needed help.

  Just last week Kaye and I had attended a church pot luck dinner that had helped raise money for old Mr. Prescott’s eye surgery. He couldn’t come close to affording it on his pension and without it he was practically going blind, but the congregation and other community members had come together and raised enough to pay for the surgery and the hospital stay. It was wonderful to see so many people come together and care for one of their own, and so far I hadn’t regretted moving back here for even a second.

  The candy shop had been closed down by its original owners before I’d moved back, but I had breathed new life into it with the help of Kaye and my young employee Rosie, a diligent, fresh-faced nineteen year old who worked her hardest to save up enough money to attend college one day. She hadn’t been able to obtain any scholarships, and her single mother couldn’t afford to pay tuition fees, so Rosie was working as hard as she could to ensure she could go at some stage. The community had offered help, but she said she felt it was something she had to do on her own. We were all proud of her strength and can-do attitude, and I was lucky she’d chosen to come and work for me. At this moment, she was in the back chopping up caramel fudge that she’d helped me make the night before.

  Just like some of the other small cafés and shops along the main street, the candy shop was the center of social activity during its busiest periods. People would come in for a taste of my latest candy concoctions and a drink, and they’d discuss the latest town goings-on. I loved listening in and joining in on the conversations. People were a veritable hoard of information, and it was always useful hearing everyone’s opinion on certain matters.

  Kaye took a sip of her coffee, then looked up at me. “Guess who I ran into today on my way here?”

  “Who?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. Hopefully not my ex-partner. He’d never been able to make up his mind about whether he actually wanted to be with me or not, so knowing him, he’d come looking for me to see if I’d changed my mind about our split two years ago. Unfortunately, that ship had sailed – I was getting to an age where I simply felt too old to remain committed to someone who had never been one-hundred percent committed to me. Yes, being single in my forties was hard sometimes, but the way I saw it, it was better than the alternative if I’d stayed with him.

  “Frank Frobisher,” Kaye replied. She took another sip of her coffee and then wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously. “And let’s just say…he’s as handsome as they say he is. Even for a man in his early sixties, he puts some of these younger gentleman to shame. A true silver fox, as they say.”

  “Frank Frobisher? Who’s that?”

  Kaye peered at me over the rim of her mug. “Are you serious? And here I was thinking this candy shop was the center of town gossip. You haven’t heard everyone talking?”

  I usually did overhear most of what was said in my shop, but the subject of Frank Frobisher – whoever he was - must have been missed. The name did sound vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t think where I’d heard it.

  “I don’t hear absolutely everything,” I said with a laugh. “Sometimes I actually have to concentrate on working.”

  Kaye laughed. “Okay, fair enough. Well, Mr. Frobisher is the new man in town. Remember Mildred Dane was saying a couple of months back that someone had bought the property near hers?”

  I furrowed my eyebrows for a second. “Oh, yes, now that you mention it.”

  “Well, it turns out Mr. Frobisher bought it and has moved here to retire. You must have heard of Fudgy Frobisher’s.”

  “The ice cream?”

  Fudgy Frobisher’s was a premium brand of ice cream that had put Ben and Jerry’s and other such brands to shame for several years now. Every flavor was original and delectable, and I couldn’t think of anyone who didn’t have at least one tub sitting in their freezer at all times.

  “Yes,” she replied. “Mr. Frobisher is the Frobisher who started it all. Apparently he’s handed over the reins of the company to his son so he could retire early, and he’s chosen York as the place he wants to stay.”

  “Oh, how lovely. It’ll be good to have some new folks in town,” I replied.

  “Just when things were starting to get a little dull, too,” she said. “But it’s only him, I’m afraid. He’s divorced, and all his children have long since moved on with their own lives. Anyway, as I was saying…he’s a very handsome man, Anne. Maybe you could date him. Heck, if I wasn’t married, I wouldn’t mind sharing a meal with him.”

  “Oh, stop it,” I said with a laugh, playfully swatting at her with my napkin. “I might be old, but I’m not that old. A man in his sixties is a little too past it for me. I know, I know, I’m horrible. I’m ageist.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “No, it’s fine, you’re allowed to have your own set of standards. Is Rosie in yet?”

  I nodded my head towards the small kitchen out the back. “Yes, she’s cutting up some of the fudge I made last night. I’m trying a new Irish Cream flavor as well as all the usual ones.”

  Kaye opened her mouth to answer when the bell tinkled again, and we both looked up to see one of the local policemen,
Deputy Ted, standing in the doorway.

  “Ladies,” he said, tipping his head at us as he sauntered in. “I’m here for the usual.”

  “I’ll do the coffees,” Kaye said with a smile before heading over to the machine, and I went over to the jellybean jar and measured out a bagful of pink and green jellybeans. They were the only flavor Ted liked, and while it did throw off the balance of colors I had in my inventory, I didn’t mind. After all, it was my job to ensure my customers got the best service possible, and if that meant only giving them the colors and flavors they actually wanted, then so be it.

  “Ah, thank you so much,” Ted said as he slid some cash over the counter. “You’re amazing, Anne. I think Bob wanted to try some more of your coconut ice too, if you have any.”

  “I sure do,” I said, pulling out a tray from the homemade confectionery display case. “So, anything new today, Ted? A big case, perhaps?”

  He laughed. “How many big cases have we ever had here, Anne?”

  He had a point. Say what you will about small towns, but you have to admit the crime rate in many of them is almost non-existent. I didn’t even have to lock my doors at night. The worst thing that had happened since I’d moved back here was a minor car accident on Ivy Street when a young learner driver had accidentally careened off the road and through our local beautician Mrs. Barnaby’s rose garden. Luckily, no one had been injured, save for the teenager’s pride and some unfortunate flowers.

  I grinned. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  “Well, we actually do have something quite serious to sort out today. Young Sarah Wilson is claiming one of her neighbors stole her purebred Burmese cat, and the neighbor in question is Miss Taylor. Her son tells us she has a touch of dementia, so it’s likely she confused Sarah’s cat with her old cat. Quite a sad story, really. We have to go and take it from her and give it back to Sarah, and I feel terrible about it, to be honest.”

  “Oh, that’s awful,” I said, my face falling. “Poor Miss Taylor. She must be so confused. Perhaps Sarah could take the cat to visit her every few days?”

  “Yes, I’m sure they can sort something out,” he said. “Sarah is quite busy teaching at the school most weekdays, so maybe Miss Taylor can help take care of the cat. Anyway, I best be off. Thanks for the coffees and treats.”

  He held up the bag of sweets in one hand as he balanced the cardboard tray of takeout coffees Kaye had made and then exited, and I busied myself in the kitchen for a while. Every so often the bell would jingle, and Kaye served the customers as I worked on my new fudge recipe with Rosie’s help.

  At around lunchtime, the phone rang. I sighed and wiped my sticky hands on my apron, and I glanced over at Rosie.

  “Do you mind finishing this while I take this call? As soon as I’m done you can take your break.”

  “Of course,” she replied with a smile, her green eyes crinkling up around the corners. She had such a sweet smile; one that actually met her eyes. I hadn’t seen a whole lot of genuine smiles during my time in the big city, and it was yet another small-town perk that York had to offer.

  “Hello, this is the Sweet Shoppe,” I said into the phone, cradling it between my ear and shoulder with my head tilted.

  “Hi, am I speaking to Anne Meyer?”

  “You sure are.”

  “Ah, great. My name is Chris Keller. I’m the owner and general manager of Candyland. I wanted to let you know that the usual guy won’t be doing your deliveries anymore. He’s moved on from the company, unfortunately. We haven’t yet hired a new person to make his deliveries, so I will be seeing to it personally while we wait for that position to be filled.”

  Candyland was a confectionery wholesaler company in Boston that I got a lot of my premade candies from, and the delivery man, Bill, had always been an affable chap. It was a shame he had left, but it was nice that Candyland were still doing everything they could to provide good service. Once a month, I’d place an order with them, and they’d drive out here to deliver boxes upon boxes of sweet, candy goodness for me to sell to hungry customers and put a smile on their faces. And they say most people hate their jobs! I certainly wasn’t complaining.

  “Oh, that’s lovely of you,” I said. “I placed an order last week…Tuesday, I think.”

  “Yes, so I’ll be driving out there tomorrow to deliver it,” he replied. He had a deep, calm voice that made my stomach do somersaults, and I mentally kicked myself. Don’t even think about it, I told myself. A nice man like him is probably already taken, and besides, you can’t even tell what he looks like over the phone!

  “Wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “No problem.”

  When I’d hung up, I got Rosie to double-check our inventory just to make sure I’d ordered enough products from Candyland, and then I went out to the front of the store while Kaye ducked out for an appointment. The afternoon rush was going to begin in a couple of hours, and it wouldn’t stop until around four-thirty. The busiest time was when the kids had finished school for the day – it was practically impossible to even hear ourselves think with all their laughter and screams of delight as they picked their treats from the big glass jars on the shelves. Not that I was complaining. I loved serving the community and making the kids happy, and I knew Kaye loved it too. It reminded her of when her own kids had been young and put a sparkle in her eyes.

  Just before the onslaught of schoolchildren, the bell chimed, and I looked up to see a tall older gentleman enter the shop. His hair was silver, which accentuated his piercing green eyes, and his features were chiseled and masculine, lending him an air of authority. Oh my. This must be Mr. Frobisher, and Kaye hadn’t been wrong. He was a very handsome man. Something about him seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.

  “You must be Anne,” he said, striding over to me and holding his hand out. “I ran into your friend Kaye this morning, and she got talking to me and mentioned that you two run this place together. I’m Frank Frobisher.”

  I accepted his hand and shook it, smiling warmly. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”

  He looked around for a second. “This place is looking great. Last time I was here, it had different owners. It was nice, but nowhere near as nice as it is now.”

  “Why, thank you,” I said, my smile growing even wider. “We’ve worked pretty hard on it. When were you last here?”

  His eyebrows creased in thought. “Oh…years ago. A very long time. But out of all the places I’ve ever been, this town really stayed with me.”

  “So you decided to retire here. That’s wonderful. It really is a great little town.”

  “It certainly is. Now, the important question. Do you have any fudge? I’ve always been a sucker for it.”

  “Well, you built an entire ice cream empire named after fudge, so I’m not surprised,” I replied with a grin. “And yes, just here in the case. You can try a free sample of as many flavors as you want. What’s your poison?”

  He leaned closer to take a look, and I pointed out all the flavors. “There’s caramel, double choc, cherry ripe, coconut and white chocolate…oh, and this here is the new Irish Cream flavor I’m testing. A lot of people have said they liked it so far.”

  He nodded slowly. “Hmm. Irish Cream does sound lovely, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to go with my all-time favorite. Double choc it is.”

  I sliced a small fragment for him to try, and he gratefully accepted it. He was about to pop it in his mouth, but instead he paused. “Oh, hold on…speaking of poison. I can’t believe I almost forgot to ask. I know this fudge is homemade so it’s very unlikely, but I just need to make sure it doesn’t contain any red food dye number forty-two. I’m deathly allergic. Just the tiniest droplet is enough to land me in hospital or possibly even kill me.”

  “The fudge is safe,” I said. “All my homemade stuff is safe from food dyes and other additives, and most of the candy is too. I think a few of the colored sweets
might contain certain food dyes, but I’ll check with the nutrition information the distributors left me and let you know next time you come in.”

  “Wonderful,” he said. He popped the fudge sample into his mouth and closed his eyes as he rapturously savored the sweet morsel.

  “This is absolutely delicious,” he said. “I’ll take a bag.”

  “Coming right up,” I said with a smile. Making fudge was one of my favorite parts of my job, and it was nice that others appreciated my passion.

  “Can you imagine a world without chocolate?” he asked as he fumbled in his wallet for some cash.

  “It would be horrible,” I replied. “Then again, I’d probably be a good ten pounds lighter, so it wouldn’t be all bad.”

  He laughed and slapped some money on the counter.

  “You know,” he said, taking another small nibble of the choc fudge a moment later. “You could really do a lot with this. My eldest son runs Fudgy Frobisher’s now, but I still have some influence. We’re always looking to improve the product even more, and a new fudge recipe for some of the flavors has been in the works for a while.”

  “Oh?”

  “I honestly think yours is the best I’ve ever had. I’m sure my son would love to hear from you and possibly buy your recipes. Perhaps I could set up some sort of meeting?”

  “Oh my…that would be amazing,” I said, barely able to believe my ears. I’d only just met the man, and he was offering me a potentially incredible business opportunity.

  “Yes, well, always happy to help out a fellow townsperson,” he said with a smile.

  If this was how Mr. Frobisher was going so far, I’d dare say he’d have no trouble fitting in to our town. Helping each other out was what we did, and he was already doing that and then some. I was certain that he would be well-liked and very happy here.

  ***

  “I can’t believe I missed him,” Kaye grumbled as the afternoon rush finally died down. “He’s such a nice man to look at.”