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snow in the side yard, moving toward the driveway and off into the night.
    CHOCOLATE CHAT
    GOLDEN AGE CHOCOLATE
    One of the most famous books of the Golden Age of Mysteries is The Poisoned Chocolates Case , by Anthony Berkeley, published in 1929. It’s based on a short story Berkeley wrote, “The Avenging Chance,” published a year earlier.
    In both the short story and the novel a box of chocolates is mailed to a member of a London men’s club, and the man is asked to sample it as part of a marketing survey. Since the recipient dislikes chocolates, he gives them to an acquaintance, who takes them home to his wife. The wife eats one and dies—poisoned. The detectives, of course, try to figure out who had it in for the man who received the chocolates and passed them on to his fellow club member. The solution, however, is that the second man knew his fellow club member did not like chocolate and arranged to be beside him when the box arrived. The wife was the intended victim all along.
    All very logical—except that part about the first man disliking chocolate. That’s completely unbelievable.

Chapter 4
    W hat the heck was Jeff up to?
    I quickly turned off my bedside lamp, slid out of my cocoon of comforter, and went to the window. I pulled the curtain aside and peeked out.
    Could Jeff be creeping outside to smoke? Aunt Nettie didn’t have ashtrays out, true, but he hadn’t asked about it. The kid would have to be a confirmed nicotine addict to go outside for a cigarette in fifteendegree weather.
    Did he want to get something from his SUV? Unless he’d hidden something under the seat, I didn’t think there was anything left in it to get. I’d even given him a plastic grocery bag for his trash, and he had filled it with soft-drink cups and fast-food debris that afternoon. The SUV had looked empty.
    Was he going someplace? That didn’t seem likely. For one thing, I’d noticed that his gas tank was close to empty. I’d planned to buy him a tank of gas the next day, but I hadn’t told him that yet. Besides, if he wanted to leave, Aunt Nettie and I had made it clear we weren’t going to try to stop him. There was no reason for him to sneak off in the middle of the night.
    And it was the middle of the night. My watch read 1:00 A.M.
    But middle of the night or no, the interior lights flashed inside Jeff’s SUV; then I heard the motor start. But only his running lights came on when the Lexus began to move. He backed down the driveway slowly. This was definitely as surreptitious a trip as he could manage.
    Where was he going? I had to know. Or at least try to find out. Maybe if I followed him, I’d get a clue as to why he had left Texas.
    I was still dressed, so I grabbed my purse and rushed down the stairs in my stocking feet, hoping that I wasn’t waking Aunt Nettie. At the back door I stepped into my boots and pulled on my jacket and cap. By the time I got outside, Jeff’s taillights had turned onto Lake Shore Drive, and his headlights popped on. I ran to my van, thudding along the cleared walk and then scrambling through the snow along the drive. I pulled the no-lights stunt until I was past the house. I was still trying not to wake up Aunt Nettie, but I half expected to see her standing at her bedroom window as I went by; Aunt Nettie doesn’t miss much.
    Even without lights, it was easy to see where I was going. Our part of Michigan is heavily wooded, but there are only a few evergreens; nearly all the trees are bare in winter. The snow on the ground reflected what light there was, giving the night a luminous quality. I drove about a quarter of a mile before I turned on my headlights.
    By then I was asking myself if I was wasting my time. Jeff had about a three-minute head start, and even one minute would give him enough time to get away from me completely. But a few factors were working in my favor. If Jeff had gone anyplace but Warner Pier, I might as well forget the chase and go home. But if he had gone into