Death by Chocolate Bar

You don’t become a police detective in a small town because you are interested in solving crimes. You sure as heck don’t take the job because you want solve a murder. Still, I couldn’t believe what the dispatcher was telling me.

“Body at the United Church, Detective,” she said. “Possible foul play.”

I spit out my coffee, nearly choking. “Seriously?” I exclaimed.

“Straight from the pastor,” she replied. “It looks like we just about avoided a riot.”

I pulled on my trench coat, put on my deerskin cap, and checked myself out on the attendance board. Twenty-four months on the job and it looked like I finally caught a murder case.

St. Nicholas United Church was in the centre of town. It had a reputation as the most liberal-minded institution of the local institutions. Most of the members were late-career or retired professionals, lawyers, and humanities professors run out of the city to their country homes, ready to enjoy retirement.

These church people stirred the pot at the occasional city council meeting about development issues and municipal governance, and sometimes held “candlelight peace vigils” in protest of foreign military interventions, but they did not have the reputation for killing each other.

That was until today.

Pastor Killoran was waiting for me out front, stern and solemn in her long, black overcoat. She stared at the ground while I parked the car and avoided eye contact as I walked toward her.

“Sorry to see you under the circumstances, Pastor,” I said. “Can you bring me up to speed?”

“It’s the social justice committee,” she said with a sigh. “They normally get pretty heated but this time, well…”

“Who’s the victim?” I asked.

“Sadie Longbottom,” she said. “She’s the committee chair.”

I had hoped that it was simply a case of a devout geriatric passing beyond this mortal coil to their eternal rest after an afternoon of arts and crafts or scrapbooking. The Pastor led me down the stairs to the basement. I could hear weeping beyond the door.

I walked in and saw the body on the floor: white woman, early 60s, and probable hippie, based on her tie-dyed muumuu and sandals. There was a round table with various chocolate bars, drink cups and a big chocolate cake in the middle with one slice carved out of it, sitting untouched and apparently unwanted.

In one corner of the room sat her doppelgänger, rocking in place on a bench while a junior officer stood on watch beside her. I didn’t know him, but I nodded in his direction.

On the other side of the room sat a gray librarian type, sitting expectantly at her laptop.

“There’s Ms. Longbottom,” said Pastor Killoran, pointing at the body. “In addition to your officer, I’ve got Sandy Winifred, the committee secretary, and the, um, assailant, Jenna Longbottom, Sadie’s sister.”

The doppelgänger wailed loudly, body shaking as she wept into the hands of the young cop. He waved his enormous hands awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure if he was trying to catch all of her tears or maybe just push her back into her chair.

Sisters? Motive established, I thought. Normally, that would mean ‘case closed’ but I needed to get the whole story.

“Can I speak to Ms. Winifred, please?” I asked, looking over to the librarian.

“Sandy, the detective needs you,” she said. “Why don’t we go to my office?”

Ms. Winifred stood up straight, her laptop clutched to her breast. She strode toward me, not looking at Jenna Longbottom crying in the corner.

“I’m here to help, detective,” she said to me, extending intense eye contact before walking off to the church office.

“Tell me when the crime scene investigator gets here,” I said to the officer. “I am going to take Ms. Winifred’s statement. When he does, you can let him secure the scene and take Ms. Longbottom to the station.”

He nodded, clearly afraid.

“Just get her some tissues, kiddo,” I said to him quietly. “Do yourself a favour. And don't touch the chocolate cake.”

I walked to the other side of the room into the pastor’s office. It had a couch and a board room table. I decided to tale the business-like approach, so I gestured toward the table. Ms. Winifred sat down and I joined her.

“Pastor Killoran, could you please greet the crime scene investigator?” I asked. “It would also be best if I spoke to the committee secretary alone.”

Killoran nodded to me and exited with a sigh. I turned to my first interviewee, fidgeting eagerly in her seat.

“So. Why don’t you tell me what happened, Ms. Winifred?” I began, opening my notepad.

“I can do better than that, detective,” she said. “I keep excellent minutes, sir. I think that you will find everything you need here.”

She turned the laptop towards me and opened a document. I scanned through the initial procedural motions. I found the main detail under the “Fundraising Campaign” line item.

J. Longbottom rose to update the group on the annual fundraising campaign for the school in Ghana.

S. Longbottom questioned how we can still use Middlebury Chocolatiers as our supplier when they confirmed that they do not monitor suppliers to ensure that they do not use child labour.

J. Longbottom suggested that S. Longbottom was out of order. Middlebury Chocolatiers are owned by members of this congregation and have not been found in the past to pursue unsavoury business practices.

S. Longbottom disagreed and suggested that using Middlebury Chocolatiers as supplier implies that the church, the committee, and J. Longbottom support child trafficking and unpaid labour.

J. Longbottom responded negatively to accusations, suggesting that “hurt feelings” were the cause of S. Longbottom’s objections.

“It was at that point that Sadie called for the meeting to move en camera,” Ms. Winifred said.

“Is that when the alleged assault occurred?” I asked.

“Detective, none of us are people of natural violence, but there comes a time when lines are crossed and people need to defend what’s theirs,” said Ms. Winifred. “I know that you have only lived a few years in this community, but we have codes that have served us longer than conventional statutes have.”

I laughed out loud. “Are you telling me that Sadie had it coming, Ms. Winifred?” I ventured.

“Not death, no, but a good smacking, for sure,” she replied. “Look, sir, I know that you must clear cases and lay charges and put up big numbers to impress the powers that be, but this is a rather delicate situation. Sadie and Jenna had been fighting about Middlebury Chocolate for years. The only thing different this time is that Sadie has been divorced from John Middlebury for two years now and that just last week, he announced Jenna as his next bride-to-be.”

I nodded. Just like I thought, being sisters was motive enough for murder.

“Jenna was way out of line poking at Sadie like that, but she didn’t come here today to kill her,” said Ms. Winifred. “I saw the whole scene with my own eyes and I tell you that the death was certainly an accident and mostly an act of self-defense.”

“Okay, fill me in,” I said.

“Well, I stopped typing the minutes when we went en camera, but it wasn’t five seconds before Sadie rushed at Jenna like some professional wrestler! Jenna picked up one of the “executive” chocolate bars, you know, the two-pounders for big spenders, and tried to bat her away. Sadie wouldn’t stop and Jenna smacked her across the face. I know that your crime scene examiner is going to find a few teeth on the floor of that basement.”

“So, the weapon of choice was a giant chocolate bar?” I repeated.

“It wasn’t what killed Sadie, but it sure was what knocked her down,” Ms. Winifred told me. “After getting clocked, Sadie got even madder and took another run at Jenna. She was grabbing for Jenna’s neck when she just up and fell backward, convulsing like a demon on judgement day. Her lips were swelling up and her skin was getting patchy red.”

“So, she had an allergy?” I asked.

“I guess,” said Ms. Winifred.

“Well, I think that I can vouch for that,” said Jim the crime scene investigator, peeking through the door. “Sorry, I didn’t knock.”

He was holding a plate with a big slice of chocolate cake. There was already a big bite out of it and it looked like he was wearing brown lipstick.

“Hey, Jim, good to see you despite the circumstances,” I said. “Throwing a party?”

“How do you know she’s allergic, mister?” said Ms. Winifred, staying on point.

“Prescriptions in her purse,” he said. “I went through it while I was waiting for you two to come back. It wasn’t a new thing either. It looks like she renewed it about every two months.”

“Can a chocolate allergy kill someone?” I asked him.

“No, but a heart attack can,” said Jim. “We’ll have to wait until the medical examiner gets here but that’s my bet. She puked at the end, right?”

Jim licked brown icing from his fingers, almost humming with enjoyment.

Ms. Winifred looked down. “I was hoping to broach the subject more delicately but, yes, there was that detail. She vomited and fell to the ground, face first.”

“Yeah, sounds like a heart attack to me,” said Jim with a shrug. “Anyway, let me know when you two are done. By the way, this cake is delicious and I can guarantee it had nothing to do with the, um, incident.”

Jim went back to his business and left Mrs. Winifred and I to ours.

“Anything to add, Ms. Winifred?” I asked, closing my note pad.

She placed her hand on mine and looked into my eyes. “Be nice to Jenna. She lost a sister today in perhaps the stupidest way possible. It’s hard enough the normal way, you know?”

“There’s never a good way, Ms. Winfred,” I replied. “But, whether or not they meant to, the Longbottom sisters have given us a tale for the ages. When all of the tears are cried, this to me is still a case of death by chocolate bar. That said, can we now please go have a slice of chocolate cake?”