Death by Chocolate: a Candy Land cozy mystery

Chapter 5

Licorice skidded the patrol car to a dusty halt outside Gramma Nut's Peanut Brittle House.

I hopped out of the car, suppressing a giggle at the sheriff's semi-controlled tantrum, and approached the house. "Hello, Gramma Nut. Nice to see you again."

Gramma Nut stood outside examining something at the corner of her cottage. I waved in greeting as I approached, but instead of recognition at having met me earlier, the older woman peered at me over her half-moon spectacles with confusion.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Gramma Nut held out her hand, and I gave it a cursory once over before taking it. The Gloopy handshake had left me cautious.

"We have, actually. Outside the sheriff's station this morning," I explained.

Her confusion deepened, leaving a deep furrow between her eyes. "I must apologize. I've forgotten a lot recently." She scratched her wooly brown hair beneath her ruffled blue bonnet.

Maybe the heat had been too much for the old gal this morning. I proffered another business card with only a speck of a coffee stain and repeated my end of our conversation from this morning. She listened with great attention, her eyes wide in wonder.

"Oh, the poor boy. I wish I could help you, Jill, but I haven't seen the lad." As Gramma Nut spoke, she removed a little binder from her apron and flipped it open. Inside, transparent plastic rectangles held a plethora of business cards. She found an empty slot and added mine. She then flipped to the back of the binder to a lined notepad. She checked her watch and jotted down the time, and wrote my name next to it.

"Do you always carry that with you?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," Nut exclaimed. "As I said before, I've been very forgetful recently. I jot everything down and carry all my business contacts with me."

"Why not just carry a cell phone?"

Gramma Nut threw her head back and gave a hearty laugh. "Those new-fangled devices confound me. I prefer to do my calling the old-fashioned way." She nodded to the nearby open window. On a small table in her kitchen sat a vintage candlestick telephone. It looked at least 100 years old.

I whistled through my teeth before turning my attention to the area of her home she'd been inspecting when I arrived. "Is there a problem with your house?'

Gramma Nut snapped the binder shut and placed it back into her apron pocket. "It seems that one of my singles is missing." She pointed to a bare patch on her roof near the eve.

I moved to take a closer look. A corner of the shingle remained attached to the roof as if someone had ripped it off with a great deal of force. "Do you mind?" She shook her head, and I found another glove in my coat and removed what remained of the broken shingle. "Has that ever happened before?"

"Never. Well, not that I remember." She shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to make another to replace it."

"Did you build this house?" I gazed at the humble cottage with new respect.

"My sister and I did." Nut gave the singles around the missing one a shake. They held fast.

"Your sister?"

"Yes, Gramma Gooey. We used to live in this house years ago. She left some time ago. I used to get letters from her, then, nothing for almost a year." She paused. "One morning, I got a call from Fairy Tale Land that she was dead. That was nearly 12 years ago now." Nut peered up at the cottage's peaked roof. "She made the chocolate, and I made the brittle. We were a good team."

"Thank you, Gramma Nut. Please call me if you remember anything that might be useful." I returned to the patrol car and Licorice, who hadn't bothered to join me.

"Do you have any evidence bags?" I asked.

"Glovebox," Licorice said, pouting like a child. "Where to now?"

I placed the corner of the peanut brittle shingle into the bag. "The Lollipop Woods. We need to talk to Lollipop."