Read Online To Fudge or Not to Fudge (A Candy-Coated Mystery with Recipes) by Nancy CoCo - Free Book Online

reminded me of when we found the bone . . . and Angus saying he might know who the socks and boots belonged to. “Wait.” I spun back around. “What about this Karus fella Angus thought might be the dead guy?” I asked, my gaze on Liz as she gathered up her gear. “Has anyone spoken to him? Would he know who else wears argyle socks and steel-toed boots?”
    “That’s a good question.” Liz stepped around her desk. “It’s a small community. If two people have footwear in common they would bond over it.”
    “Maybe it’s someone in his family,” I mused. “I’d be gentle with how you ask him.”
    “Oh, I’ll be gentle.” Liz raised an eyebrow. “I’m always gentle. Aren’t I, Grandpa?”
    “Gentle as a lamb.” He chuckled.
    “More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, I suspect.” I watched as Liz beat me out the door. I glanced at Angus. “That’s two story ideas I’ve given Liz. The very least you can do is refund the cost of my ad.”
    “In your dreams, Missy.” Angus wandered back to his old computer monitor. He sat down and looked over the top of his glasses at me. “Don’t you have fudge to make and a hotel to run?”
    “Right.” I turned to go. “You’ll tell me if she discovers anything about those bones, right?”
    “This is journalism, young lady. We make our money selling stories. I’m not stupid enough to give it away free. Buy a paper if you want the latest news. Now, go, be gone.” He waved me off. “Don’t let the door hit you in the behind on your way out.”

    Mrs. Goode’s Fudge
    3 cups of sugar
Dash of salt
cup of cocoa powder
1½ cups of milk
¼ cup butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups of chopped peanuts

    Prepare an 8” x 8” x 2” inch pan—butter the pan, cover the inside with parchment paper or wax paper. Butter the paper and set the pan aside.
     
    In a large, heavy saucepan mix sugar, salt, cocoa powder, and milk. Stir over medium heat until the ingredients reach a full boil. Let boil unstirred until a candy thermometer reads 125°F or the soft-ball stage is reached. Remove from heat.
     
    Add butter and vanilla—do not mix. Cool until the thermometer reads 110°F, then beat until fudge thickens and just begins to lose its gloss. Add peanuts and pour into prepared pan. Cool completely. Cut into 1-inch pieces. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 8
    “Miss McMurphy?”
    I walked back to the fudge shop after placing my ad and picking up a few items from the grocery store. I was missing Mal. The sound of crowds of people laughing and talking mixed with the clip-clop sound of the carriage horses. The scent of fudge and caramel corn mixed with sunscreen. I was overwhelmed with memories of summers with Papa Liam and Grammy Alice.
    “Excuse me,” a young woman put her hand on my arm and stopped me. “Do you work at the McMurphy Hotel and Fudge Shoppe?”
    “Yes,” I said. “I’m the owner. Is there a problem?”
    “Oh, no, no problem.” She was shorter than me, the top of her head reaching the same level as my chin, which made her about five foot one inch tall. She had long black hair and brown eyes and the high cheekbones of a native islander. “I’m Sandy Everheart. I stopped by the hotel first, but you weren’t in.”
    “How can I help you?” I asked and tilted my head.
    She was slender and wore a white polo shirt and black slacks and wedge shoes with closed toes. “Were you headed back to the McMurphy?”
    I lifted the bags in my hands. “Yes, I was.”
    “Can we speak in private?”
    “Okay, sure, follow me.” We were only a few shops down from the McMurphy, and we wove our way through the crowds of tourists and porters and maids and the gardeners who weeded the many beds of flowers.
    She opened the door of the McMurphy for me, and the scent of fudge wafted out. I noted how the crowd weaved toward the rich scent of chocolate. I was glad I had a sign that said FREE SMELLS INSIDE. I also had a free Wi-Fi sign, but it wasn’t as big a draw as I had thought. It turns