Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 01 - Death by Chocolate by Sally Berneathy

don’t.”
    “Then what—”
    “Lindsay, you can’t ask me. You can’t know.”
    I threw my hands into the air. “Do you have any idea how crazy this is? Okay, you’ve got secrets about your past that you don’t want to share. Fine. Far be it from me to pry. But this is the present and you’re my friend and I live right next door to you and work with you all day! Sooner or later, I’m bound to find out what’s going on. Do you think you could at least give me a clue as to what possible significance a stuffed bear can have in all this?”
    She looked chagrined…but determined to keep her secrets. And I’d always thought I had the market cornered on obstinacy.
    I studied the mutilated bear. “It’s the chest thing, isn’t it? You think somebody’s threatening to cut a hole in your heart?” I lifted the basket of eggs. “It’s not you. I had a visit from a demented un-Easter bunny last night about two o’clock. I’m sure the bear was supposed to be a part of this package. Rick either got scared and tossed the bear when Henry started making a God-awful racket or else some animal, maybe a ‘possum or a raccoon, dragged it from the basket over to your walk.”
    She shook her head. “No. It was meant for me.”
    “Paula, you’re being paranoid! Look. Big basket with only three eggs. The bear’s heart has been ripped out. That’s what Rick’s trying to say I’m doing to him.”
    “There’s blood everywhere.”
    Everywhere ? There were only a few streaks of red on his chest. I filed her comment away with Fred’s knowledge of maximum security prisons. Someday I’d figure out my friends’ secrets.
    “It’s not blood. It’s…” I hesitated, sniffed the bear and could feel myself blushing. “It’s raspberry syrup.”
    That got her attention. I was afraid it would. “Raspberry syrup?”
    “That’s right. Come on, we need to get to the shop.”
    I plopped the bear into the basket of eggs and started back toward my garage, but her voice stopped me. “Why would anybody pour raspberry syrup around a hole in a stuffed bear’s chest?”
    “Trust me. Rick would. Let’s go. Time’s wasting. We’ve got bagels and doughnuts to make and coffee to brew.”
    She didn’t budge. “Why would Rick put raspberry syrup on this bear?”
    I heaved a martyred sigh. “You won’t tell me anything about your past life and Fred won’t tell me what he does all day, but the two of you expect to know every detail of my life!”
    Paula waited expectantly, hopefully. What the hell. I only had a few remaining shreds of privacy. I might as well sacrifice them to reassure my friend. “Rick always said my—” I gestured vaguely toward my breasts and could feel my face getting hotter, probably lighting up the night like a neon sign. “He thought…well, you know, raspberries. And then he found this raspberry syrup and he’d pour it—” I gestured again and Paula burst into laughter. At least my humiliation had lightened her mood.
    “Okay, I get the picture!”
    “Good. Then let’s go to work.” I took a couple more steps toward my garage.
    “Lindsay?”
    I turned back.
    “Thanks. For everything.”
    I shrugged and grinned. “Don’t you dare smirk the next time I make my Chocolate Cake to Die for with Raspberry Sauce.”
    She went to her car which stayed parked in her driveway in good weather because the garage door was so hard to open, and I lifted my own garage door. It seemed especially recalcitrant that morning…which didn’t help my disposition. I cursed Rick softly but fervently as I entered the garage. Embarrassment, anger, loss of sleep…none of those things quite managed to override the sentimental feelings he’d stirred with those stupid eggs and that mangled bear. Okay, the bear verged on macabre, but it was clever.
    I tried to revive my post-leaving fantasies of the various ways I could kill Rick…strangulation, stabbing, gunshot, trauma to the head with a rusty iron skillet…
    I noticed