The Chocolate Mouse Trap 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

  Chapter 22

  Also by JoAnna Carl

  Praise for the Chocoholic Mysteries

  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

  “Delicious.”

  —Cluesunlimited

  “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 descriptions of the chocolates are enough to make your mouth water, so be prepared.... Once again, I enjoyed each page of the book and am already looking forward to my next visit to Warner Pier, Michigan.”

  —Review Index

  The Chocolate Bear Burglary

  “Do not read The Chocolate Bear Burglary on an empty stomach because the luscious . . . descriptions of exotic chocolate will have you running out to buy gourmet sweets . . . a delectable treat.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “[Carl] teases with descriptions of mouthwatering bonbons and truffles while she drops clues.... [Lee is] vulnerable and real, endearingly defective.... Fast-paced and sprinkled with humor. Strongly recommended.”

  —I Love a Mystery

  “Kept me entertained to the very last word . . . a great new sleuth.... Interesting facts about chocolate.... a delicious new series.”

  —Romantic Times

  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

  “As delectable as a rich chocolate truffle and the mystery filling satisfies to the last prized morsel. Lee McKinney sells chocolates and solves crimes with panache and good humor. More, please. And I’ll take one of those dark chocolate oval bonbons. . . .”

  —Carolyn Hart

  “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

  SIGNET

  Published by New American Library, a division of

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  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

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  First Printing, September 2005

  Copyright © Eve K. Sandstrom, 2005 All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  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.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  ISBN : 978-1-101-56376-2

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  To Dave,

  still my special guy

  Acknowledgments

  As ever, I owe many thanks to Morgen Chocolate in Dallas and the great staff there—especially my daughter, Betsy Peters. I also received help from Michigan friends and neighbors Susan McDermott, Tracy Paquin, and Bonnie Miller. Computer advice came from Joe Diaz and John Hornbeck, and literary information came from Dr. John Morris.

  Chapter 1

  “I’m sick and tired of killing this stupid inspirational junk,” I said. “If Julie Singletree doesn’t stop sending it, I’m going to kill her, as well as her messages.”

  I’d been talking to myself, but when I raised my eyes from the computer screen, I realized I was also snarling at Aunt Nettie. She had nothing to do with the e-mail that had been driving me crazy, but she had innocently walked into my office, making herself a handy target for a glare.

  Aunt Nettie smiled placidly; she’d understood that I was mad at my e-mail, not her. “Are you talking about that silly girl who’s trying to be a party planner?”

  “Yes. I know she got us that big order for the chocolate mice, but I’m beginning to think the business she could throw our way can’t be worth the nausea brought on by these daily doses of Victorian sentiment.”

  Aunt Nettie settled her solid Dutch figure into a chair and adjusted the white food-service hairnet that covered her hair—blond, streaked with gray. I don’t know how she works with chocolate all day long and keeps her white tunic and pants so sparkling clean.

  “Victorian sentiment isn’t your style,
Lee,” she said.

  “Julie is sending six of us half a dozen messages every day, and I am not interested in her childish view of life. She alternates between ain’t-life-grand and ain’t-life-a-bitch, but both versions are coated with silly sugar. She never has anything clever or witty. Just dumb.”

  “Why haven’t you asked to be taken off her list?”

  I sighed and reached into my top desk drawer to raid my stash for a Bailey’s Irish Cream bonbon (“Classic cream liqueur interior in dark chocolate”). I’d worked for TenHuis Chocolade for more than two years, but I wasn’t at all tired of our products, described on our stationery as “Handmade chocolates in the Dutch tradition.” When you’re hassled by minor annoyances, such as e-mail, nothing soothes the troubled mind like a dose of chocolate.

  Aunt Nettie was waiting for an answer, and I was hard put to find one. “I suppose I kept thinking that if I didn’t respond she’d simply drop me from her jokes and junk list,” I said.

  “You didn’t even want to tell her you don’t want to receive any more spam?”

  “Oh, it’s not spam. She’s made up a little list of us—it’s all west Michigan people connected with the fine foods and parties trade. Lindy’s on it, thanks to her new job in catering. There’s Jason Foster—you know, he’s got the contract for the new restaurant at Warner Point. There’s Carolyn Rose, at House of Roses—she carries a line of gourmet items. Margaret Van Meter from Holland—the cake decorating gal. And the Denhams, at Hideaway Inn. We’re all on the list. And since we all deal in fancy foods, Julie has named us the ‘Seventh Major Food Group.’ You know—grains, dairy, vegetables, fruit, meat, fats, and party food.”

  “It is a funny name.”

  “It’s the only witty idea Julie ever had.” I gestured toward the screen. “This message is typical. ‘A Prayer for the Working Woman.’ I haven’t read it, but I already know what it says.”

  “What?” Aunt Nettie smiled. “Since I’ve worked all my life, I might benefit from a little prayer.”

  “I can make you a printout, if you can stand the grossly lush roses Julie uses as a border.” I punched the appropriate keys as I talked. “I predict it will be about how downtrodden women are today because most of us work.”

  “Since I own my own business, I guess I’m one of the downtrodders, not the downtrodden.”

  “Exactly!” I spoke before I thought, but luckily my reaction amused Aunt Nettie. We both laughed. Then I began to backpedal. “You’re a dream to work for, Aunt Nettie. You’re definitely not a downtrodder. And you’re not downtrodden, because you enjoy your job. But Julie can’t seem to make up her mind. If she isn’t sending stuff claiming today’s women are put-upon because we have to work, she’s sending stuff saying we don’t get a chance at the good jobs. I can understand both views, but she wraps them up in enough syrup to make a hundred maple cream truffles.”

  “You’ll have to assert yourself, Lee. Tell her you don’t like her e-mails.”

  I sighed. “About the time I tell her that, she’ll actually land a big wedding, and the bride will want enough bonbons and truffles for four hundred people, and we’ll lose out on a couple of thousand dollars in business. Or Schrader Laboratories will plan another banquet and want an additional three hundred souvenir boxes of mice.”

  I gestured toward the decorated gift box on the corner of my desk. Aunt Nettie had shipped off the order two weeks before, but I’d saved one as a sample. The box contained a dozen one-inch chocolate mice—six replicas of laboratory mice in white chocolate and six tiny versions of a computer mouse, half in milk chocolate and half in dark.

  Schrader Laboratories is a Grand Rapids firm that does product testing—sometimes using laboratory mice and sometimes computers. A special item like the souvenir made for their annual dinner means risk-free profit for TenHuis Chocolade; we know they’re sold before we order the boxes they’ll be packed in.

  “That was a nice bit of business Julie threw our way, even if she did get the order from a relative,” I said. “I can put up with a certain amount of gooey sentiment for that amount of money.”

  “It might be cheaper to give it up than to hire a psychiatrist. You’ve got plenty to do. Tell Julie your mean old boss has cracked down on nonbusiness e-mail.”

  Aunt Nettie smiled her usual sweet smile. “And I really am going to add to your chores. We need Amaretto.”

  “I’ll get some on my way home.”

  Amaretto is used to flavor a truffle that is extremely popular with TenHuis Chocolade customers. Our product list describes it as “Milk chocolate interior flavored with almond liqueur and coated in white chocolate.” The truffle is decorated with three milk chocolate stripes, but its mainly white color makes it an ideal accent for boxes of Valentine candy and at that moment we were just four weeks away from Valentine’s Day. I knew Aunt Nettie and the twenty-five ladies who actually make TenHuis chocolates had been using a lot of Amaretto as they got ready for the major chocolate holiday. But liqueurs go a long way when used only for flavoring; one bottle would probably see us through the rush.

  I handed Aunt Nettie the printout of Julie’s dumb e-mail—all ten pages of it. Julie never cleans the previous messages off the bottom of e-mails she forwards or replies to. Then Aunt Nettie went back to her antiseptically clean workroom.

  I wrote “Amaretto” on a Post-it and stuck the note to the side of my handbag before I turned back to my computer. I manipulated my mouse until the arrow was on REPLY ALL and clicked it. Then I stared at the screen, trying to figure out how to be tactful and still stop Julie’s daily drivel.

  “Dear Seventh Major Food Group,” I typed. Maybe Julie wouldn’t feel that I’d singled her out. “This is one of the busiest seasons for the chocolate business, and my aunt and I have decided we simply have to crack down on nonbusiness e-mail. At least half our orders come in by e-mail, so I spend a lot of time clearing it. As great as the jokes and inspirational material that we exchange on this list can be,” I lied, “I just can’t justify the time I spend reading them. So please drop me from the joke/inspiration list. But please continue to include me in the business tips!”

  I sent the message to the whole list, feeling smug. I was genuinely hopeful that I’d managed to drop the cornball philosophy without dropping some valuable business associates along with it.

  I wasn’t prepared the next day when I got a call from Lindy Herrera, my best friend and a manager for Herrera Catering.

  “Lee!” Lindy sounded frantic. “Have you had the television on?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I was watching the news on the Grand Rapids station. Oh, Lee, it’s awful!”

  “What’s happened?”

  “It’s Julie Singletree! She’s been murdered!”

  Chapter 2

  I hadn’t known Julie well.

  Lindy and I had met her two months earlier at the West Michigan Bridal Fair, a big-time event held in Grand Rapids. I’d gone to the fair for both professional and personal reasons.

  On the professional side, as business manager of TenHuis Chocolade, located in the Lake Michigan resort town of Warner Pier, I’m responsible for marketing. I also keep the books, write the salary checks, send out the statements, and pay the taxes. As one part of its business, TenHuis Chocolade provides arrays of truffles, bonbons, and molded chocolates for special occasions—occasions which have been known to include wedding receptions. We also make specialty items—tiny chocolate champagne bottles, chocolate roses, molded chocolate gift boxes with names on top, and dozens of other chocolate objects—which would be suitable for weddings. Visiting a bridal fair would be a good way to make some contacts that could possibly lead to sales.

  On the personal side, I was planning my own wedding, and it wasn’t proving to be an easy job.

  For nearly two years I’d been dating Joe Woodyard, a Warner Pier native who earns his living by an unlikely combination of careers. He’s an expert in restoring antique wooden boats and is also city attorney for th
e town of Warner Pier, Michigan (pop. 2,503). We’d both had unhappy first marriages, so it had taken us—or at least me—quite a while to decide to head for the altar a second time.

  This time, we both vowed, we were going to do it “right.” As if there’s a foolproof way to get married. The problem was that Joe’s version of “right” didn’t mesh with mine.

  Early on Joe and I had discovered that we’d both flown to Las Vegas to get married the first time around. That more or less ruled out a romantic elopement. Been there, done that.

  So Joe asked if I wanted to go back to my Texas hometown for the ceremony.

  I laughed harshly. “Then I’d have to invite my parents.”

  “You don’t want to invite your parents?”

  “Not both of them. But it’s fine if your mom wants to be there.”

  “Now wait a moment, Lee. You don’t want either of your parents to come to our wedding?”

  “My dad would be okay. He’s helped me out a lot. But he’d have to bring my stepmother. And if she’s there, my mom would go bananas. So it’s just better not to get into it. Can’t we just have Aunt Nettie? And Lindy and Tony and your mom—and Mike, if you want to. And maybe Hogan Jones.”

  Mike Herrera is my friend Lindy’s father-in-law and boss—and he dates Joe’s mother. And Hogan Jones is Warner Pier police chief, and he’s been taking my Aunt Nettie out. Small towns are like that: interconnected.

  Joe was frowning. “Don’t you think your mom will be upset if you don’t ask her to the wedding and do ask your aunt?”

  I thought about it a moment. “Frankly, Joe, I don’t care if my mother is upset, as long as she’s upset in Dallas, not in Warner Pier. She hasn’t exactly been supportive of me and my needs and desires. If she had her way, I’d still be married to Rich. I’m sorry, but I’m not on good terms with my mother or my stepmother. It would really complicate matters if I tried to have them at the wedding.”