The Chocolate Moose Motive: A Chocoholic Mystery by JoAnna Carl Page B

rustic couch that was covered with knitted afghans. She brought coffee, remembering that I take it black, and I took out a notebook.
    “Okay,” I said. “How long were you gone yesterday afternoon?”
    “An hour, maybe an hour and a half. I went over to Dorinda to the grocery store. The store there is closer than the Warner Pier Superette. Cheaper, too.”
    “What time was that?”
    “I left about two o’clock.”
    “So you were back before four?”
    “Right.”
    “Did you lock the house?”
    “I doubt it. I don’t lock the door very often.” She smiled wryly. “Someone might want in.”
    “Did you notice as soon as you got back that things had been rearranged?”
    “No. I put the groceries away; then I went out to the shop and skinned your owl. The museum curator wants it mounted. Flying. It’s going to be a nice specimen.”
    “We’ll have to go over and see it. When did you notice things had been moved around?”
    “When I came over here from the shop about five o’clock, I looked for the electric bill. I was sure it had been on top ofthe stack. I finally found it farther down in the pile, under the propane bill.”
    “Did you see anything else out of place?”
    “No. But we’re not exactly neat around here. My mother would have said we’re not neat at all.”
    “I’d use the word comfortable. I love your house. How about outside? Was anything moved around out there?”
    She shook her head.
    “How about in the shop?”
    “No, nothing had been disturbed in the shop.”
    “Do you keep money around?”
    “I don’t keep cash in either the house or the shop, and I took my purse with me. Most of my customers pay by check. I don’t encourage cash. I’m not a good enough bookkeeper to keep good records of cash, and I don’t do enough business to justify taking credit cards. Having checks helps me keep track, and that helps when the IRS casts its beady eye on me.”
    “I expect that Sissy could set you up a simple bookkeeping system.”
    “Yes, she’s offered. But she wants to do it on the computer. I’ve deliberately avoided any contact with computers. I’ve even talked Sissy out of having e-mail out here.”
    “She has Internet access. At least, I found her résumé online.”
    “She goes to the library if she wants to use the Internet. I don’t want Moose Lodge to get that modern. Besides, the only Internet access available out here is the type that uses a regular phone line.”
    “Dial-up? Yes, there are still big sections of rural Michigan where that’s the main thing available.”
    “Sissy’s annoyed with me because I don’t even want one of those phones that tells you who’s calling.”
    “Caller ID? That can be pretty convenient.”
    The contemptuous glance I got from Wildflower scotched that opinion. She spoke again. “Buzz checked his e-mail at the library, too. But I don’t think he e-mailed a lot. Chip used to gripe because he had to write him letters. ‘Snail mail,’ he called it.”
    “Did the prowler fool with the computer yesterday?”
    “You’ll have to ask Sissy. But she didn’t mention it.”
    “If the only things disturbed were your desk and Sissy’s desk, it looks as if the intruder was looking for some sort of papers. Do you have any idea what those might have been?”
    “No. But I have a suspicion of who it was.”
    “Who?”
    “Ace, of course.”
    “But he’s—” I nearly blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Ace Smith had been a high-ranking army officer. It just didn’t seem possible that a person who had held a prominent and honored position in society would turn to burglary. However, I had witnessed the threats Ace had made to Sissy, so I paused, then finished my sentence with a new attitude.
    “Ace is a complete jerk, isn’t he?” I said. “I guess I was thinking of a burglar as a person who sneaks around with a dirty face, wearing raggedy clothes. But I’ve heard the way Ace Smith can talk. I wouldn’t put anything past