The Chocolate Shark Shenanigans by JoAnna Carl

Author:JoAnna Carl [Carl, JoAnna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Joe and I were still intrigued by the little safe as we walked back to the TenHuis shop a half hour later.

“Money,” I said. “We should have known. What else would anybody keep in a strongbox?”

Joe grinned. “I wonder what Spud wanted that money for.”

“To hide his finances from Star? She said he’d been tucking money away. That they’d fought about it.”

“Did he want to take a faraway vacation?”

“Or put it in his Christmas club!”

“That’s as good a guess as any.” Joe squeezed my hand. “How long are you going to stay at the office?”

“At least an hour.”

“I may go out to the boat shop. I should work on that Peterborough Speedster.”

“Maybe that’s what Spud wanted the money for! A snazzy boat! He didn’t know you don’t take cash.”

We both laughed, though the subject wasn’t really funny. Joe’s boat shop specializes in restoration and repairs of antique wooden boats—small ones, such as speedboats or even canoes or rowboats. Hobbyists will pay piles of money to get a 1941 wooden canoe back into mint condition. And Joe charges them piles of money for that service.

And now and then some boat owner hints that if he gets a discount, he can arrange for that pile of money to be paid in cash. The implication is, of course, that Joe can make up the difference by not paying tax on that cash income.

Joe doesn’t do this. As a lawyer, of course, he could get in major trouble if such a scheme were discovered, but there are a lot of other possible problems. First, it would put him under the thumb of the cash-only payer. Second, it would infuriate the accountant he’s married to. Third, it’s just not honest to be a tax dodger, and he’s a pretty honest guy.

The latest person to suggest a cash payment happened to be the owner of the 1941 Peterborough Speedster. Joe had replied with his usual bland refusal, saying he didn’t give discounts for cash, and the owner had written him a check without more argument.

Could Spud have had some similar scheme in mind? It was, naturally, a possibility, though it was unlikely to involve a boat. He was interested in buying property, wasn’t he?

Or the money might even be milked from the operation of a rural convenience store. Of course, leaving his valuables at the store after he sold the property—that would be iffy. Would Spud have been willing to take that chance?

I knew that the state police lab would have gone over the little safe thoroughly, looking for fingerprints or other evidence. Maybe they had found something. Hogan hadn’t given us a hint in that direction.

So I told Joe I’d be home in an hour or so, then gave him a kiss at the door of TenHuis Chocolade. I knew that if he went to his shop, he might get so enthralled with a boat that he wouldn’t get home until midnight.

And for the next hour—actually hour and a half—I concentrated on payroll, the money I needed to pay the genius women who make our fabulous chocolates.

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