Death by Chocolate

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

An hour and a half later I was sitting in Fred's breakfast nook at his table of polished oak that never seemed to get dirty or smudged, overlooking his back yard where the trees didn't drop leaves and the birds never pooped.

I took a bite of his chicken salad on homemade bread, savoring the delicate flavors. If I could persuade Fred to come to work at Death by Chocolate, we'd all be rich, but he prefers to sit in front of that computer screen all day and do whatever it is he does.

"This bread is wonderful," I told him.

He studied the uneaten portion of his own sandwich and scowled. "The crust's not crisp enough."

"It's perfect."

"My oven temperature must be inaccurate."

"You're nuts."

"Maybe."

He spoke the last word with as much dignity and solemnity as he'd voiced his criticism of his bread.

I laughed and Fred smiled.

I knew that Fred knew Rick had spent the night even though my driveway was on the opposite side of my house with several trees in between. The man knew everything that went on. I've accused him of having a periscope leading from his computer up his chimney as well as bugs in every house in the neighborhood. He acts surprised when I bring it up, claiming he lives in his own little world and sometimes doesn't even know what the weather's like outside.

Yeah, right, and Rick just happened to have that jar of instant coffee in his briefcase.

However, I really didn't want to think about Rick at that moment, and Fred would never bring it up if I didn't. So I chose another topic.

"Cops came to visit Paula this morning," I said.

He nodded.

"Now how could you possibly know that if you don't have a periscope?" I demanded.

"You just told me."

"You nodded, indicating you already knew."

"I nodded as a polite acknowledgement that I'm listening to what you're saying."

I lifted a skeptical eyebrow. Sometimes I'm not positive when he's teasing, but I never let him know that. As I finished my sandwich, savoring every crumb, I told him about the cops' visit.

"I've always wondered why any woman would want to color her blond hair brown," he said when I finished.

"You noticed that too? She didn't have any references when she moved in. Rick didn't want to accept her application to rent the house, but I insisted. I think she had an abusive husband and she's hiding from him. What do you think?"

He nodded slowly.

"Is that a nod of agreement or just a polite nod to show you heard me?"

"It's a contemplative nod. I'm considering the possibility. She is pretty obsessive about keeping to herself, and she's extremely protective of the kid. Would you like more tea?"

"Yes, please."

While Fred poured tea, I peeled the plastic wrap off the plate of still-warm peanut butter chocolate chip cookies I'd brought over.

"Well," he said, selecting the most evenly rounded cookie on the plate, "I guess it's none of our business. If Paula wants us to know what her problem is, she'll tell us."

"Unless she's too scared to make a rational decision. She may need our help." I told him about the hole through the hedge and the cigarette butt. "Have you noticed any activity over there? Anybody skulking around?"