Death of a Chocolate Cheater: A Food Festival Mystery by Penny Pike Page A

phone, said something to astaff member who was milling around, then headed over to me.
    “You called the police?” I asked.
    He nodded. “They’ll be here any minute. I told the waiter to make sure no one leaves the building. The police will want statements.”
    “I think most of them are in the bar downstairs.”
    Jake touched my arm as if to reassure me before heading out of the ballroom to double-check on the crowd. I looked for Aunt Abby, avoiding eye contact with the vat, and saw her sitting with Reina at a small table, her face buried in her hands. Dillon was talking to J.C., the camera guy, no doubt asking him inappropriate questions about his camera. I wondered how much J.C. had captured on his camera. I headed over to tell them the police were on their way, still averting my eyes from the body in the chocolate, and caught Dillon in midsentence.
    “. . . must be a woman,” he said, nodding toward the vat.
    Before I could stop myself, I turned to look at the Plexiglas tub, wondering what had made him say it was a woman. How could he possibly tell? The only thing I could see was that hand, pressed against the side of the plastic container.
    And then I saw what he’d seen—what I had missed the first time I’d looked at the vat. There was a ring on the hand. Even though it was covered in chocolate, it was unmistakable—a diamond the size of an M&M.
    Oh my God.
    Polly Montgomery?
    *   *   *
    Before I could say anything, a deep voice bellowed from the doorway of the ballroom.
    “Where’s the victim?”
    I turned to see three uniformed officers—two men and a woman—accompanied by a large black man in a black suit. It was none other than Detective Wellesley Shelton, my nemesis and my aunt’s crush.
    Detective Shelton had handled the homicide investigation I’d been involved in a while back and had even brought my aunt in for questioning, since she’d had a public altercation with one of the victims only hours before the murder. I think my aunt mistook the detective’s initial attention for personal interest and she’d flirted with him shamelessly. But ever since he’d visited her in the hospital, he’d warmed to her. Now I suspected he had a genuine affection for her. They’d been dating for several weeks, and Aunt Abby seemed happier than ever.
    Aunt Abby lit up at the sight of the detective and waved. I saw a crinkle at the side of his mouth when their gazes crossed. The beginning of a smile? Before I could be sure, the expression disappeared.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked her bluntly. He spotted me, then Dillon, and shook his head. “Not again.”
    Before Aunt Abby could reply, Dillon waved from across the room. “Over here, Detective,” he said, pointing toward the plastic tub.
    Detective Shelton frowned. “Stay here,” he ordered before heading over.
    “What’s his problem?” Aunt Abby whispered to me.
    I shrugged. “He’s working, Aunt Abby. I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”
    Dillon took a few steps closer to the vat and pointed at the hand.
    The detective stepped up on the small stage, leaned over the edge of the vat, and rubbed his curly, graying black hair. “How in the hell . . . ?”
    Good question, I thought. How could anyone end up like that without help? The top of the vat was as tall as the detective’s waist. You have to lean over pretty far to fall in.
    The detective turned back to the six of us and verbalized my thoughts. “Do any of you know how this happened?”
    We all shook our heads.
    “Any idea who it is?”
    When no one said anything, I ventured, “I think I know.”
    Detective Shelton focused his dark gaze on me. “That figures . . . ,” I thought I heard him mumble. “Well?” he said louder, prompting me to continue.
    “I think it’s one of the judges for the Chocolate Festival competition. If I’m right, her name is Polly Montgomery.”
    The others looked at me, mouths agape at my announcement.
    “And how would you happen