Ghost in the Chocolate Shop
As was his custom, Shawn McMurtry stopped at The Quill and Dagger before going on duty. Bypassing the books, he went directly to the shop's coffee bar where Rebecca Coffin, the proprietor, greeted him.
"The usual?" she asked.
"I feel adventurous today. I think I'll take a cappuccino."
"Anything with it?"
"How about a cheese Danish?"
"Coming right up."
As the bookseller prepared the coffee, the police officer inquired about newly released mysteries.
"The Patterson's latest book came in yesterday afternoon," she told him.
"Another one? That man sure is a prolific writer."
Rebecca put the cappuccino and the Danish on the counter and poured herself a cup of plain, ordinary coffee, to which she added skim milk and a packet of Sweet 'N Low.
"So, anything new in Puritan Falls?" she inquired, knowing her long-time friend was a wellspring of knowledge when it came to the goings on in the small coastal village.
"Actually, there is. The shop on the corner of Essex and Gloucester has been sold."
That was news! Since the self-serve frozen yogurt store went out of business more than a year earlier, the building had stood empty.
"Surely no one from around here would move in, considering the place's history."
"I don't know who is moving in or what he or she plans to do with the place. All I know is Jackie took down the FOR SALE sign and put up a SOLD one," Shawn explained, referring to Jacqueline Astor, the local real estate agent.
"Ever since I was a little girl, I heard stories that the property was haunted. The fact that it changed hands so often seemed to add credence to the tales."
"A lot of businesses have moved in and out of there over the years. Of course, some of that turnover can be attributed to logical rather than paranormal causes. The video rental store went out because the popularity of VHS tapes and DVDs waned when streaming became popular."
"That's true," Rebecca agreed. "I guess the same can be said for the smoke shop that was once there. Cigars and cigarettes aren't big sellers anymore. To be honest, I'm surprised my bookshop is still making money considering how many people read books on Kindles and their cell phones."
It was not only advancements in technology that drove business owners out of the building on the corner of Essex and Gloucester, however. Since the body of an unknown woman was discovered there back in 1924, only one establishment, Elmer's Shoes, lasted more than a couple of years at that location. Elmer Boggs, a stubborn man who would not let talk of ghosts drive him out of what he considered a prime location, managed to keep his business open on the premises from 1959 until 1971, at which time he retired and moved to Florida.
"Want a refill on your cappuccino?" Rebecca asked, pouring herself a second cup of coffee.
Shawn looked at his watch and regretfully declined.
"I don't have time for one. I go on duty in ten minutes."
"Here. Take another Danish to go. You can eat it on your coffee break."
"Thanks. I'll keep you posted about the new shop."
Although Puritan Falls had acquired two new businesses in the last five years—Victoria's English Tea Shoppe and, more recently, Treasure Hunt Antiques—there was little danger of a new business altering the quaint, old-fashioned New England charm of the seaside community. Therefore, whoever moved in would be welcomed with open arms.
* * *
For the next two months, the Puritan Falls grapevine was ripe with theories about who bought the building on the corner of Essex and Gloucester and for what purpose.
"I heard that it's going to be a nail salon," Shannon Devlin told psychiatrist Lionel Penn and emergency room physician Sarah Ryerson one evening when the couple had dinner at the Green Man Pub.
"Really?" Sarah asked with surprise. "One of the nurses at the hospital told me a dry cleaner was opening up there. Have you heard anything, Lion?"
"Judy said something about a florist."
"That makes sense," bartender Liam Devlin declared. "Jackie said the new owner was someone called Flower."
"Not Flower," his wife corrected him. "LeFleur."
"Same difference," Liam laughed.
"When I drove by there the other day to see Rebecca," Sarah said, "I noticed a construction crew was busy renovating the building. However, the front windows were blacked out, so I couldn't see what they were doing."
"Maybe we should ask Roseanne Dwyer if she knows anything," Shannon suggested. "Our local representative of the Welcome Wagon is the best source of information this village has."
"True," Lionel agreed. "But if the new owner doesn't live here, Roseanne may not have had the opportunity to meet him or her yet."
"That's a good point," his fiancée observed. "I wonder where this LeFleur person lives."
"It seems to me anyone wanting to open a business here would have to live nearby," Liam opined.
"Did Jackie mention if she sold any houses recently?" Rebecca inquired.
"No. She was so excited about the sale of the shop that she talked about little else."
"I'm sure we'll meet LeFleur soon enough," Lionel said, opening his menu and bringing an end to the subject. "I think I'll start with the potato leek soup."
Unbeknownst to the people in the Green Man Pub, Rudy Meyrick, a professional house painter, had just finished painting the sign above the door of the storefront on the corner of Essex and Gloucester. He climbed down the ladder and stepped back on the sidewalk to get a good look at the finished product. The letters were uniform in size and spacing and were appropriately centered on the wooden background. As though she had anticipated the sign's completion, the new owner opened the front door and stepped outside.
"It's finished," the paint announced. "What do you think?"
The woman craned her neck, and a smile appeared on her face.
"It's just what I wanted," she said in an accent that hinted at her Creole ancestry.
"SWEET INDULGENCE," the painter read. "You know, you've got some competition in this area. There's a coffee bar right down the street at The Quill and Dagger bookstore. And then there's Victoria's English Tea Shoppe not far from here."
From the shop's name, Rudy assumed it was a bakery. However, Desiree LeFleur soon set him straight.
"I'm not competing with either of those places. I'm a chocolatier, not a baker."
"Chocolate, huh? With Valentine's Day only a month away and Easter at the end of March, it seems an opportune time to open a candy store."
"Any time of year is a perfect time for chocolate," she replied.
* * *
Shawn McMurtry was the first person to notice the OPEN sign in the window of Sweet Indulgence. He pulled his patrol car over to the side of the road, got out and walked toward the newly opened candy store. No sooner did he cross the threshold than the aroma of chocolate made his mouth water.
"Welcome to Sweet Indulgence," the shop owner greeted him from behind the counter. "What is your preference: dark, milk or white? I also offer ruby and blond chocolate."
"I'm not here to buy anything. I just dropped in to introduce myself. The name's Shawn McMurtry. As you can tell from my uniform, I'm a police officer with the Puritan Falls PD."
"Pleased to meet you, officer."
"Please call me Shawn."
"My name is Desiree LeFleur."
From her appearance, McMurtry assumed the attractive biracial woman was in her mid-thirties. Her skin was the same warm brown as the milk chocolate she sold.
"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked. "You've got an accent I can't place."
"I was born and raised in New Orleans."
Shawn raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"And you moved here to New England? That's quite a change. How do you like the snow and cold weather?"
"I'm adapting," she replied. "I bought a winter wardrobe and a four-wheel drive vehicle. Frankly, I lived through Katrina, so I don't imagine a snowstorm and freezing temperatures are going to break me."
"Have you met any of the other shopkeepers in the neighborhood?"
"I haven't had the opportunity yet. I've been busy getting things ready for my opening."
"They're a friendly bunch. I'm sure they'll stop by and introduce themselves. Well, I'd better get going. I'm on patrol duty."
"Before you go, have a piece of chocolate—on the house."
"That sounds good. You make everything yourself?"
"Yes. What would you like?"
"Got anything with peanut butter in it?"
Desiree selected a peanut butter and pretzel cup covered in milk chocolate and topped with a dark chocolate drizzle. The police officer took one bite of the delicious confection and ordered half a pound of them to take home to his wife, Penny.
* * *
When Rebecca's part-time employee reported for work later that afternoon, the bookseller immediately texted Abigail Cantwell, owner of the Bell, Book and Candle, located directly across the street from The Quill and Dagger. By the time she buttoned up her coat and put on her gloves, Abigail was outside the bookshop waiting for her. From both their businesses, it was only a short distance to the corner of Essex and Gloucester.
As the two women entered Sweet Indulgence, they passed Judy Stanfield, Lionel Penn's administrative assistant, who was on her way out.
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Judy laughed.
"Why not?" Abigail asked.
"Everything looks so good! I think I spent nearly my entire Christmas bonus on chocolate!" she replied, holding up a large shopping bag. "I even bought chocolate-covered cranberries for Lionel."
There were several other familiar faces inside the shop as well. Josiah Barnard, owner of the Sons of Liberty Tavern, was looking at a box of truffles for his wife, Eliza. Martha Prescott was buying two chocolate-dipped apples: one for her and the other for Dr. Noah Prestwick, her significant other. Examining the chocolates in the glass cases were Maureen McHugh, Elaine Kearney and Glenda Waymen, three retirees were referred to themselves as the Three C's Ladies Club since they regularly met to enjoy coffee, cake and conversation.
"Are you ladies going to change your club's name to the Four C's now?" Rebecca jokingly asked. "The fourth C standing for chocolate?"
"Now that Puritan Falls has its own gourmet chocolate shop, we just might," Maureen answered.
"That's assuming Sweet Indulgence stays in business," Elaine declared. "This location has a bad track record."
"Why is that?" asked Glenda, who originally hailed from Pennsylvania.
"They say the place is haunted," Elaine whispered. "That's why it has changed hands so many times over the years."
Since the three women had delved into the alleged haunting of the Puritan Falls lighthouse while collaborating on a book about the local landmark, Glenda considered herself something of an amateur sleuth. As she stepped up to the counter to order a pound of sea salt caramels, she was intrigued at the prospect of another such investigation.
Meanwhile, Abigail and Rebecca were admiring not only the selection of chocolate candies but also the décor of the shop. Every surface was painted one of three colors: dark brown, light brown or creamy white, making the interior of the shop look like it was made of chocolate. The floor, ceiling and counter were dark brown; the walls and bases of the glass cases were white; and the wainscotting and wood trim were light brown.
After Josiah Barnard paid for his box of truffles, it was Rebecca's turn to be waited on.
"Hi, I'd like ...," she began.
"Hello!" the chocolatier interrupted her. "You're Rebecca Coffin, aren't you? The owner of The Quill and Dagger?"
"Yes, I am."
"I've been hoping to meet you. I'm Desiree LeFleur. And you must be Abigail Cantwell from the Bell, Book and Candle?"
"That's me," the older woman with the short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair announced.
"Here," Desiree said, reaching for two pieces of chocolate she had kept behind the case. "Try these."
"Mmmm!" Rebecca said after biting into a raspberry bonbon. "This is delicious!"
Abigail's eyes closed and a smile came to her lips as she sampled the toasted coconut cluster.
"I have to buy some of those!" she insisted.
Before returning to their own stores, both women purchased candy not only for themselves but for the men in their lives as well. Rebecca bought almond butter crunch for her husband, Dylan Osborne, and Abigail bought a box of assorted fruit and nut chocolates for Ezra Graves, the owner and editor of The Puritan Falls Gazette.
"Maybe Judy was right," Rebecca said as the two women left the shop with their own large bags full of chocolate. "Perhaps we shouldn't have gone inside."
"Oh, hell!" Abigail declared. "We only live once. We might as well indulge in chocolate while we can."
* * *
Maureen McHugh and Elaine Kearney entered Glenda Wayman's Danvers Street home, expecting their usual get-together and gab session would follow. The coffee was percolating in the pot, and a lemon poppyseed cake was in the center of the kitchen table. The hostess, however, was in the living room, sitting at her laptop, surrounded by books, file folders and computer printouts.
"What are you up to?" Elaine asked.
"Our next project."
"Project?" Maureen echoed as Elaine went to the kitchen to pour the coffee into cups. "What project?"
"The ghost in the chocolate shop," Glenda replied.
"You mean the one that supposedly haunts Sweet Indulgence?"
"Yes."
"What's that got to do with us?"
"I thought we'd investigate it just like we did the disappearance of Lucy Cowell at the lighthouse."
"Do we know anything about it?"
"About what?" Maureen wondered, catching the tail end of the discussion.
"The ghost that is said to haunt the chocolate shop. Glenda thinks we ought to investigate it."
Maureen tilted her head and pursed her lips as she gave the matter some thought. Then a smile spread across her face.
"I think that's a fantastic idea. I really enjoyed our last investigation."
The two women turned to look at Elaine, their eyes asking an unspoken question.
"You can count me in," the former high school history teacher announced. "If you two are up to the task, then so am I."
"Speaking of the chocolate shop," Maureen said as the three women took their seats around the kitchen table. "I want to go back there tomorrow. My arthritis was acting up again the other day, and Desiree suggested I try her chocolate-covered peanut clusters. She claimed nuts are a good source of omega-3, which has anti-inflammatory properties. And you know what? I actually felt better after I ate a few pieces."
"Desiree is from New Orleans," Glenda joked. "Maybe she puts a little voodoo magic in her homemade chocolates."
"That would explain why Penny McMurtry claims the chocolate Shawn gave her took away her headache," Maureen theorized.
As the hostess cut into the lemon poppyseed cake, she and her two guests decided on a course of action for their investigation.
"I got some information at the historical society about the old businesses in Puritan Falls," Glenda announced. "The first building constructed on the corner of Essex and Gloucester was a dry goods store, which was built in 1840. It burned to the ground in 1862, and since the village went into a slump around the time of the Civil War, nothing else was built on that property until 1886, at which time a barber moved into the new building. It changed hands several times, and by the 1920s, a pharmacy was operating there."
"It's hard to imagine Puritan Falls during the Roaring Twenties," Elaine laughed.
"As you know, Prohibition was the law of the land at that time," Glenda continued. "Still, many pharmacies were allowed to sell alcohol for medicinal purposes as long as the customer had a prescription for it. From what I read, the Essex Street Apothecary did a booming business selling doctor-prescribed whiskey. That is until the body of an unknown young woman was discovered on its premises back in 1924."
"Was she murdered?" Maureen asked.
"No. According to my sources, her death was ruled an accident."
"How did she die?"
"It didn't say."
"Do you think this unknown woman is the one who haunts the building?" Elaine asked.
"It does seem likely, but I suppose we'll have to investigate further."
* * *
The Green Man Pub was already crowded when Glenda and her two friends entered it. As the three women made their way to what appeared to be the last free table, they greeted friends along the way.
"Are you ladies here for the trivia?" asked Rebecca Coffin who was seated at a table with her teammates husband Dylan Osborne, Abigail Cantwell and Ezra Graves.
Since the rules allowed teams of one to four players, many couples paired up to increase their chances of winning. Sarah Ryerson and Lionel Penn were playing with Shawn and Penny McMurtry. Martha Prescott and Noah Prestwick had joined Douglas Pemberly and Michael Whitby from Treasure Hunt Antiques. Librarian Patience Scudder was sitting with teammates Victoria Broadbent and Josiah and Eliza Barnard.
"It seems like most of Puritan Falls is here," Elaine observed, waving to English teacher April Brower and her husband, Tom, who were Lionel Penn's sister and brother-in-law.
"Every other team has four players," Maureen said. "Do you think we'll be at a disadvantage with only three?"
At that moment, a shadow was cast on the table. The women looked up into Desiree LeFleur's hypnotic brown eyes.
"Do you mind if I join you?" she asked in her slight Creole accent.
"Please do. We need a fourth," Glenda declared.
No sooner did the chocolatier sit in the empty chair than a waitress stopped to take their drink order. Glenda, Elaine and Desiree all ordered wine, but Maureen, who volunteered to be the designated driver, asked for a Diet Coke. As the server walked toward the bar, Shannon Devlin climbed up on stage and turned on the microphone.
"Welcome everyone to the first trivia night at the Green Man Pub."
Her announcement was met with hardy applause. Once the clapping died down, the proprietor went over the rules.
"Last but not least," she concluded. "Cell phones are forbidden. If I see anyone with a phone, I'll have no choice but to disqualify your team."
With only minimal grumbling, the players turned off their phones and put them away.
"Does every team have an answer sheet? Good. Let's begin. The first category is ...."
Shannon spun a wheel that stopped on the space marked SPORTS.
"And here's the first question. What is the only American football team to go an entire season undefeated, including the Super Bowl?"
"I don't know anything about football," Glenda whispered to her teammates. "I'm more of a baseball person."
"Neither do I," Maureen said. "I don't care much for any sport."
Desiree reached for the pencil and answer sheet that was placed in the center of the table. She confidently wrote down the correct response: the Miami Dolphins.
"Are you sure?" Elaine asked.
"I'm positive."
Of the first twenty questions, Glenda, Elaine and Maureen knew the answers to six of them. Desiree correctly responded to the other fourteen.
"You're a real trivia whiz!" Elaine exclaimed.
"I played a lot at college," Desiree explained.
After the twentieth question, there was a break in play. Many people took the opportunity to visit the restroom or go outside for a cigarette. When her two friends got in line for the ladies' room, Glenda chose to remain at the table and speak to the newest shop owner in Puritan Falls.
"Your store seems to be doing a good business," she said. "Every time I go past it, it's full of customers."
"Yes, I'm quite pleased with my success so far."
"Have you had any ... disturbances there?"
"No."
Glenda could not hide the look of disappointment on her face.
"Because previous owners claimed that the place was haunted."
"Yes, I know," Desiree replied matter-of-factly. "That's why I chose that location for my chocolate shop."
"It is? You mean you're not frightened by the prospect of encountering a ghost?"
"Why should I be? It's a well-known fact that the dead can't harm us. Only the living can. Besides, Saoirse is a perfectly lovely young lady."
"Saoirse?"
"Yes, the ghost in my chocolate shop."
"You know who it is?"
"Of course, I do. She introduced herself to me when the realtor showed me the building."
"You mean Jacqueline Astor saw the ghost, too?"
"No. Only certain people can see ghosts."
"And you're one of them?"
"I'm one of them. I've always been able to them, ever since I was a little child. You see, I was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter."
Can she really see ghosts? Glenda wondered. Or is she just pulling my leg?
She took a sip of wine—her second glass of the evening. The other two players on the team came back to the table, and there was no further talk of ghosts since the second half of the trivia competition was set to start. Once again, Shannon stepped on stage and spoke into the microphone.
"Is everyone ready? Here's your next question. What is the name of Gobbler's Knob's famous resident?"
"You've got to know this one," Maureen laughed as Glenda looked down at the answer sheet, her face a mask of confusion.
"She's right," Elaine concurred. "You're originally from Pennsylvania."
When the Keystone State native failed to respond, Desiree picked up the pencil and wrote Punxsutawney Phil as the answer for the twenty-first question.
* * *
Glenda walked into Sweet Indulgence, not to buy chocolate but to speak to the owner. Once inside, however, the enticing aroma of chocolate-covered strawberries was more than she could resist.
"Hello, Glenda. Would you like to try a free sample of my latest concoction? I call it cocoa decadence. It melts in your mouth."
The retired librarian accepted the complimentary confection.
"Mmmm! It's delicious—like everything else you sell."
"Thank you."
"I see you're getting ready for Valentine's Day," Glenda observed, admiring the red streamers and elaborate cardboard hearts and cupids that hung on the walls.
"I've been trying to fill the front table with assorted chocolates in heart-shaped boxes, but they fly off the shelf as soon as I put them out."
Glenda did not want to discuss chocolate or the upcoming holiday, but she was hesitant to bring up the subject in front of the shop's other customers. She pretended to examine Desiree's selection of homemade fudge until the two other shoppers paid for their candy and walked out.
"About the other night ...," she began.
"Wasn't that fun? I just love trivia! When the Green Man has a second trivia night next month, the four of us ought to team up again. We can't split up a winning team."
"Does it matter who you play with? You're the one who answered most of the questions."
"Don't be silly. You and your two friends pulled your own weight."
"About the ghost .... Were you serious, or were you being facetious?"
"I don't see how you can doubt my story after your experience at the lighthouse."
"What do you know about that?" Glenda demanded to know.
"I know that the Three C's Ladies Club—that's what you and your friends call yourselves, isn't it?—solved the disappearance of Lucy Cowell with the assistance of paranormal investigator Kevin McCoy and the young Marla Lovejoy."
"And you're serious about seeing this ghost? You're not just putting me on?"
"Why would I do that?"
"I don't know."
Glenda was about to ask about the accident that ended Saoirse's life, but the door opened and Sanford, the bartender from Charlie's Bar, entered the shop to peruse the Valentine's Day candy.
"I think we ought to continue our conversation at a more convenient time," Desiree suggested.
"All right."
"Why don't you come by my house this evening, and we can talk in private. Feel free to bring your friends along, if you'd like."
Maureen, Elaine and Glenda stopped for pizza before heading to Desiree's house on Proctor Street. Not wanting to arrive empty-handed, Elaine brought along a bottle of wine and Maureen baked a pineapple upside-down cake. The chocolatier, holding a Siamese cat in her arms, greeted the women at the door.
"What a gorgeous cat!" Maureen exclaimed. "What's its name?"
"Her name is Cleopatra."
As though the cat recognized her name, the animal turned to its owner and purred.
Once the three guests were seated around the dining room table, Desiree poured coffee and Maureen handed out slices of cake. No sooner did the hostess take her seat than Glenda hammered her with questions.
"Who exactly was Saoirse? Where did she come from? How old was she? How did she die?"
"I wish I had answers to your questions, but I don't," the chocolatier apologized. "All I know about the unfortunate young woman is that her name is Saoirse."
"Don't you even know her last name?"
"I'm afraid not."
"You told me she introduced herself to you. Have you spoken to her since?"
"She doesn't actually talk. I communicated with her telepathically. All I was able to get from her was her first name, and I was lucky to get that much. She was terribly frightened of me."
"The ghost was afraid of you?" Maureen asked with surprise. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"Ghosts are different just like people are different," Desiree explained. "I could sense she was a timid girl, little more than a child actually."
"How old do you think she was?" Elaine asked.
"I would estimate no older than fourteen—if that."
Glenda, a former college librarian, was no stranger to research projects and immediately began formulating a plan of action.
"Even if the girl wasn't from Puritan Falls, she may have lived in the general vicinity," she hypothesized. "There might have been reports of a missing teenager in one of the local papers."
"But she died in 1924," Maureen pointed out. "That was a hundred years ago."
"So? They had newspapers back then. I plan on starting with the Gazette and the Copperwell Tribune and then branch out if necessary."
"I can help," Elaine offered. "My volunteer work with the historical society often requires that I dig into old newspaper archives. Thankfully, most of the local papers have managed to put their back issues online."
"While you two ladies are doing that, I'll meet with Shawn and see what he can learn from the original police reports," Maureen declared.
Desiree, who was kept busy at the chocolate, did not offer her assistance. Instead, she quietly petted Cleopatra as her three guests divided the tasks among themselves.
* * *
When the Three C's Ladies Club next met at Elaine's house, Glenda had news to share with her friends.
"I found an article in a 1924 edition of the Salem Evening News. A Mrs. Belle Higbee claimed her maid, a young orphan from Ireland, had not come home from visiting her sister in Danvers. The girl's name was Saoirse O'Meara."
"That must be her!" Maureen exclaimed.
"If not, then it's one hell of a coincidence."
"Why didn't the police make the connection?" Elaine wondered. "Salem isn't that far from Puritan Falls. Surely, if a girl's body is found, the authorities would see if anyone is missing in nearby towns."
"Maybe if it had been a question of murder, there would have been a more thorough investigation," Glenda suggested. "But an accidental death is a different matter. By the way, has Shawn found out anything further from the police reports?"
"He claims they were pretty vague," Elaine replied. "He did, however, dig up a copy of the coroner's report along with the original notes."
"Good old McMurtry!" Maureen laughed.
"Saoirse's death was not exactly an accident," Elaine continued.
"How did she die then?"
"Apparently, the girl was in trouble."
"Trouble?" Glenda echoed.
"She was pregnant. And she tried to get rid of it."
"Oh, no!"
"As so often happened in those cases, she got an infection. That's probably what she was doing in the pharmacy, trying to get something to help fight it."
"Why a pharmacy and not a doctor?" Maureen wondered.
"My guess is that she was afraid her employer would learn the truth and discharge her. So, she traveled to Puritan Falls where no one would recognize her. Sadly, the infection must have been quite advanced because she died not long after entering the store."
"That poor thing!" Glenda exclaimed.
"Why didn't any of these details appear in the police report?" Glenda questioned.
"I can only assume they considered such a death 'indelicate.' They preferred to label it a simple accident. And who was going to question their findings? She was a stranger with no friends or family."
* * *
On Monday nights, especially during the winter months, business was normally slow at the Green Man Pub. Hoping to draw people in, Shannon chose to hold the second trivia night on February 12. Since the date was so close to Valentine's Day, she chose to include a new category on the wheel: LOVE AND ROMANCE. As was the case with the first trivia night in January, every seat was filled.
Hoping to extend their winning streak, the Three C's Ladies Club once again teamed up with Desiree LeFleur. This time, it was Elaine who abstained from drinking alcohol so that she could drive her companions home afterward.
"I think I'll have a strawberry daiquiri," Maureen announced when Glenda ordered a glass of wine.
"And I want a chocolate martini," Desiree said.
"Don't you ever get tired of chocolate?" Elaine laughed. "You work with it all day long."
"What's that quote by Samuel Johnson? Something about when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. I find the same is true of chocolate. The day I tire of chocolate will be the day I stop breathing."
"Speaking of chocolate, do you have any Valentine's hearts left?" Maureen wondered.
"A few, but I'm nearly sold out of most varieties. Michael Whitby bought the last heart-shaped box of truffles for his husband, Douglas, this afternoon."
"Do you have any new flavors coming out soon?" Glenda asked.
"Yes. I'm experimenting with a milk chocolate-covered caramel apple with pecans. Hopefully, I'll have perfected it in time for Easter." After taking a sip of her drink, she added, "Maybe I'll come up with a chocolate martini bonbon, too. This is delicious!"
The discussion on candy came to an end as Shannon approached the microphone.
"Here we go," Maureen said, placing the answer sheet and pencil in the center of the table. "Good luck, ladies."
"Here's your first question of the night," the Green Man's owner said, kicking off the game. "What woman, who is credited with manufacturing the first American Valentine cards, is called the mother of Valentine's Day?"
After looking at each with blank expressions, Maureen, Elaine and Glenda turned in Desiree's direction. The chocolatier, who seemed to be an endless fount of trivial knowledge, picked up the pencil and wrote down the answer: Esther Howland.
Midway through the contest, there was a break. Shawn McMurtry took the opportunity to visit the women's table.
"We all want to thank you for helping us obtain information on the death of that poor girl," Glenda told him when he took the seat temporarily vacated by Desiree who was waiting in line to use the ladies' room.
"No need to thank me. In fact, I've been meaning to speak to you about a 1926 incident that took place in Copperwell. It seems a former Boston nurse, who worked in a doctor's office there, was believed to have been involved in assisting young women with abortions. She was reported to the authorities but never brought to trial. Instead, the police quietly ran her out of town."
"Do you think Saoirse went to her?" Glenda asked.
"I think it's likely she did, but we have no way of proving it. After all, I'm sure the woman didn't keep any records of her illegal activities."
"We can't even prove the dead girl is the same Saoirse as the one missing in Salem," Maureen said with frustration.
"That's true," Shawn agreed. "But do we have to? This case isn't going to court. You wanted to know who the poor woman was and what happened to her. For all intents and purposes, you have your answer."
"We were hoping we could at least have a new headstone put on her grave," Elaine said. "The one that's there now refers to her only as an UNKNOWN FEMALE."
"I don't see that there's anything else we can do. Even if we had permission to exhume the body and look for DNA, we have nothing to compare it to. The best you can do for this poor girl now is maybe get Ezra to write an article in the Gazette, outlining your findings and conclusions."
"I have a better way of remembering her," announced Desiree, who had returned from the ladies' room.
* * *
Three weeks later, on a blustery March day, an elegant chocolate sculpture of a young girl, a showcase piece that exhibited the chocolatier's artistic talent, was unveiled at Sweet Indulgence.
"It's exquisite!" Rebecca Coffin exclaimed when she stopped by the candy shop to purchase green foil-wrapped chocolate mint shamrocks.
Her husband, Dylan Osborne, agreed with her.
"I knew you made excellent chocolate, but I never realized you were such an artist. Saoirse O'Meara," he read the name at the base of the sculpture. "That's an Irish name if ever I heard one."
"She was my inspiration," Desiree explained, her eyes, not on the chocolate sculpture but on the face of the girl who still haunted her chocolate shop.
"Is she a friend of yours?" Rebecca asked, unable to see the spirit who was standing less than two feet away from her.
"Yes, she is."
No longer afraid of the human with whom she shared a domicile, the ghost of Saoirse O'Meara smiled and, for the time being, faded from view.
I'm sure Desiree would rather have a harmless ghost in her shop than a chocolate-loving black cat.
