Death of a Chocolate Cheater: A Food Festival Mystery by Penny Pike Page A
Authors: Penny Pike
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Frankly, if the whole thing had been canceled, I wouldn’t have minded for myself. But no such luck.
A thought popped into my head as I parked the Prius in Aunt Abby’s garage. What was it Wendy had said just before she waved good-bye? Something about not needing any luck now that a new judge had been found. Did she mean now that Polly was out of the judging? That was an odd thing to say, especially since she’d claimed she didn’t know Polly.
Too tired to think, I dragged myself out of the car, while Dillon helped his mom out of the backseat.
“Mom,” Dillon said, “how about making some hot chocolate?”
Aunt Abby and I looked at him in horror.
“Seriously?” I said.
Aunt Abby shook her head, then gave me a hug and sent me on my way to the RV.
I was totally chocolated out. I had one philosophy about food and that was “you can never have too much chocolate.” But tonight I’d reached my limit, and even the smell of it coming from the samples in the napkin Dillon had smuggled into the car made me grimace. What was happening to me?
“Get some sleep, sweetie,” Aunt Abby called to me. “The festival opens at eleven, and we have lots to do before then.”
“G’night,” I called back. I walked the few steps to my home-sweet-RV—Aunt Abby’s Airstream—which was decorated in contemporary Disney. My aunt was a fan of anything Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy, and the rest of Walt’s gang, and had collected a pile of Disneyana—there really is such a thing—from places like vintagedisney.com, nostalgiadisney.com, rememberdisney.com, and of course, eBay. The Cheshire Cat clock that hung over the door of the RV had apparently been a “lucky find.” Aunt Abby had discovered it at a local Goodwill store, buried in the kids’ toy section. She prided herself on paying “two bucks” for something considered worth a fortune among collectors.
I locked the RV door behind me, glanced up at thesmiling cat, and noted the late hour. Tomorrow I’d need a good dose of the Coffee Witch’s Voodoo Vente—a latte with a double shot of espresso and a melted Mars bar—to function in the morning, after all that wine at the party.
I changed into the Tinker Bell nightshirt Aunt Abby had given me, climbed into my cozy bed, and was half-asleep when something at the back of my mind nudged me awake.
Two chocolate contest judges were now dead.
A coincidence?
What were the odds?
I got out my laptop to do a search for Delbert Morris, the judge Reina had mentioned as the replacement for Polly Montgomery. I’d asked Aunt Abby on the ride back if she’d heard of him. She hadn’t. I typed in the name. Dozens of hits appeared. As odd as it seemed, there were more Delbert Morrises than I’d expected. I tried “Delbert Morris San Francisco,” “Delbert Morris chocolatier,” “Delbert Morris judge,” and a few other combinations, but nothing turned up. The only thing I could find was a website for Toujour Truffles, and all it had was a list of their specialty chocolates, an address, and an e-mail.
Delbert Morris was turning out to be a needle in a haystack—and I couldn’t even find the haystack. I made a mental note to ask Reina more about the guy when I saw her tomorrow at the festival. What were his credentials? Where was he from? Had he done any judging before? Not that it mattered, but it would be nice to know who we were dealing with when it came time for the contest.
My mind was still whirling, so I played a couple of games of Spider Solitaire before shutting down the computer. I switched off the lights and pulled up the Disney Princess comforter, snuggling in. While I didn’t exactly feel like a princess at the moment, it was kind of nice being surrounded by the Happiest Characters on Earth.
If only Polly had had some pixie dust, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen into that vat of chocolate. But not even Walt Disney’s Imagineers could help her now.
* * *
I thought I was dreaming when I heard
A thought popped into my head as I parked the Prius in Aunt Abby’s garage. What was it Wendy had said just before she waved good-bye? Something about not needing any luck now that a new judge had been found. Did she mean now that Polly was out of the judging? That was an odd thing to say, especially since she’d claimed she didn’t know Polly.
Too tired to think, I dragged myself out of the car, while Dillon helped his mom out of the backseat.
“Mom,” Dillon said, “how about making some hot chocolate?”
Aunt Abby and I looked at him in horror.
“Seriously?” I said.
Aunt Abby shook her head, then gave me a hug and sent me on my way to the RV.
I was totally chocolated out. I had one philosophy about food and that was “you can never have too much chocolate.” But tonight I’d reached my limit, and even the smell of it coming from the samples in the napkin Dillon had smuggled into the car made me grimace. What was happening to me?
“Get some sleep, sweetie,” Aunt Abby called to me. “The festival opens at eleven, and we have lots to do before then.”
“G’night,” I called back. I walked the few steps to my home-sweet-RV—Aunt Abby’s Airstream—which was decorated in contemporary Disney. My aunt was a fan of anything Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy, and the rest of Walt’s gang, and had collected a pile of Disneyana—there really is such a thing—from places like vintagedisney.com, nostalgiadisney.com, rememberdisney.com, and of course, eBay. The Cheshire Cat clock that hung over the door of the RV had apparently been a “lucky find.” Aunt Abby had discovered it at a local Goodwill store, buried in the kids’ toy section. She prided herself on paying “two bucks” for something considered worth a fortune among collectors.
I locked the RV door behind me, glanced up at thesmiling cat, and noted the late hour. Tomorrow I’d need a good dose of the Coffee Witch’s Voodoo Vente—a latte with a double shot of espresso and a melted Mars bar—to function in the morning, after all that wine at the party.
I changed into the Tinker Bell nightshirt Aunt Abby had given me, climbed into my cozy bed, and was half-asleep when something at the back of my mind nudged me awake.
Two chocolate contest judges were now dead.
A coincidence?
What were the odds?
I got out my laptop to do a search for Delbert Morris, the judge Reina had mentioned as the replacement for Polly Montgomery. I’d asked Aunt Abby on the ride back if she’d heard of him. She hadn’t. I typed in the name. Dozens of hits appeared. As odd as it seemed, there were more Delbert Morrises than I’d expected. I tried “Delbert Morris San Francisco,” “Delbert Morris chocolatier,” “Delbert Morris judge,” and a few other combinations, but nothing turned up. The only thing I could find was a website for Toujour Truffles, and all it had was a list of their specialty chocolates, an address, and an e-mail.
Delbert Morris was turning out to be a needle in a haystack—and I couldn’t even find the haystack. I made a mental note to ask Reina more about the guy when I saw her tomorrow at the festival. What were his credentials? Where was he from? Had he done any judging before? Not that it mattered, but it would be nice to know who we were dealing with when it came time for the contest.
My mind was still whirling, so I played a couple of games of Spider Solitaire before shutting down the computer. I switched off the lights and pulled up the Disney Princess comforter, snuggling in. While I didn’t exactly feel like a princess at the moment, it was kind of nice being surrounded by the Happiest Characters on Earth.
If only Polly had had some pixie dust, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen into that vat of chocolate. But not even Walt Disney’s Imagineers could help her now.
* * *
I thought I was dreaming when I heard
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