Free The Chocolate Frog Frame-Up by JoAnna Carl

of warm chocolate enfolded me, and Aunt Nettie looked up. “Lee? What are you doing here?”
    “Something came up. I had to see you right away.”
    “My goodness! I hope you and Joe didn’t have a fight.”
    “Sort of. But that’s not the important thing.”
    “Back when I was dating your uncle, a fight would have been the most important thing in my life.” She was standing in the middle of the workroom, beside a big sheet of white paper which had been laid on the floor. As I came into the work room she picked up a white package about a foot long. She lifted it over her head, then hurled it onto the paper. Bam! She leaned over and picked up the package. Its contents were now obviously in pieces.
    “Oh, Aunt Nettie, listen to what’s happened.” I poured out the story of the missing Hershel, the damaged canoe, the probability that Joe was a suspect, and, finally, Hershel’s appearance at the truck’s window in the dark.
    Aunt Nettie stared at me, idly turning the crumpled package back and forth. Now her eyes were as round as her tummy.
    I looked at my watch. “And it’s nearly eleven now. Hershel emphasized that he wanted to meet you at midnight. Where is this chapel anyway? How do we get there?”
    Aunt Nettie’s face took on a look of complete dismay. “I can’t go,” she said.
    I squinched my eyes closed. She must be afraid. I could hardly blame her. But I had to find Hershel and get him to turn himself in to the chief—or to somebody. It was the fastest way to prove that Joe had nothing to do with running down Hershel’s canoe. And it was the fastest way I could think of to get Hershel to a hospital and to treat any injuries he might have.
    Somebody had to be at the chapel at midnight. And if I had to go alone, I’d do it.
    “Okay,” I said. “Just tell me where this chapel is.”
    “I suppose he means the old Riverside Chapel. It’s just about a mile from Joe’s shop, and there’s a hiking trail along the river. I’m sure Hershel could find it, even in the dark.”
    “Okay. Can you draw me a map? I’ll go alone. I know it’s a scary situation.”
    “I’m not afraid to go!”
    “You probably should be. Hershel is really talking crazy.”
    “Nobody could be afraid of Hershel. It’s this chocolate. I simply have to get these vats going, or we’ll lose a day of work.”
    I took a deep breath. “How long does it take to get from here to the old chapel?”
    “Maybe fifteen minutes in a car.”
    “Is there a road?”
    “Yes. When I talked about the trail, I was thinking of Hershel. He must be on foot.”
    I checked my watch again. “So we have forty-five minutes before we’d have to leave.”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay,” I said. “Tell me what to do, and we’ll get as much done on the chocolate vats as we can. But I’m dragging you out of here at twenty to midnight. Meeting Hershel at that chapel is the quickest way to prove Joe did not run his canoe down, and I’m finding that guy and bringing him back.”
    Aunt Nettie smiled. “Wash your hands, and I’ll tell you what to do.”
    I took off my green sweater and put a big bib apron on over my cream slacks and green and cream shirt. I tucked my hair into a food service hairnet. I washed my hands in approved food service fashion—even turning the water off with the paper towel so that my clean hands didn’t touch the fixture. Aunt Nettie told me to get a knife and start digging chocolate out of the big bowls.
    “Just put a few pieces of the chocolate back in the vats at a time,” she said. “Remember, chocolate melts easily—the melting point is only ninety-two degrees. But we have to be careful not to put too many pieces in at once. That could jam up the paddles.”
    I eyed the pans of chocolate warily. None of them was very full, but the chocolate in them looked solid. The chocolate obviously had been out of the vat for several hours.
    Aunt Nettie moved over beside the dark chocolate vat, climbed on to a kitchen step stool, and