The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss (14 page)

“That’s what we need to find out.”

The winners disembarked slowly, like they’d had a very long day. One weary person after another stepped off the bus and then Lori bounced out, cheerful and giddy.

“Hi, Sophie!” she sang. She stopped beside me as though she was waiting for someone.

Cheryl joined her just in time to see Wolf flick out his badge and hear him say, “Lori Speer? I’d like you to come to the station with me to answer some questions, please.”

Lori looked at me. “What’s this about?”

I didn’t dare say anything lest I clue her in. I kept quiet and let Wolf do the talking.

“Arnaud Turnèbe.”

“Sure!” She sounded excited. “I’ll see you guys later.”

As she walked away with Wolf, I heard her say, “You know, I really could tell you everything at the bar.”

Wolf muttered, “I’d prefer that you were sober for this.”

Still shaken by the new development, I trotted up the
stairs to the lobby, where many of the winners still mingled, to remind them about their television appearances the next day. “Get a good night’s sleep, everyone.”

Just to be on the safe side, I stopped by the hotel manager’s office to ask if there were any problems. She assured me everything was going well.

Back home, Daisy and Mochie greeted me at the door. Mars shouted to me from the sofa bed. “Is that you again, Natasha?”

I peeked in at him. “Natasha?”

“Hope you don’t mind. She came over to take a shower. Turned out to be a huge mistake on my part, though. She’s wildly jealous of your green and black tile because you’re ahead of the trend. ‘It’s the new gray,’” he said, mimicking her. “I have a very bad feeling that our bathrooms are being demolished as I speak.”

“The black and green tile in the bathrooms must date back to the 1950s. What’s that saying?
Everything old is new again
.”

His cell phone rang, and I retreated to my office to phone the limo company and the people who would be escorting winners to their various appearances. No one had forgotten and everything was on track.

I made two mugs of tea, handed one to Mars, and settled in the cushy armchair next to him, curling my legs underneath me.

Bored after a day of hanging around the house, Mars ate up the information about Lori Speer.

“She’s the one who made those incredible chocolates, isn’t she?”

“They were amazing. She said they were her brother’s recipe.”

Mars looked at me in surprise. “Didn’t she tell you something about her brother giving up because it’s a ruthless business? Could she have killed Arnaud as some kind of revenge?”

Dear Sophie,

Can I melt chocolate in the microwave? Natasha says it burns.

—Skeptical in Melton, Missouri

Dear Skeptical,

It won’t burn if you’re careful. Microwave chocolate on medium, stirring every 30 seconds. Or microwave it on high, stirring it every 15 to 20 seconds.

—Sophie

“What?” I nearly spilled my tea.

“Sure. It all fits together,” said Mars. “I was standing next to Dan and overheard Coco say Lori’s chocolates tasted like Arnie’s chocolates. Maybe there’s a connection.”

“If I recall correctly, she said her brother is now a school counselor.”

“A lie to cover up the truth. We’ll see what everyone thinks at dinner tonight. By the way, I invited Humphrey. He called while you were out.”

I prodded Mars to help me with dinner. He limped into the kitchen on his crutches, sat down at the table with his leg up, and most agreeably proceeded to slice potatoes and dip them in Parmesan cheese.

Meanwhile, I preheated the ovens and poured water into a huge pot for the ears of fresh corn. I took a minute to make a basil-garlic butter for them.

Mars and I were discussing Arnaud’s murder when Daisy ran to the door and wagged her tail.

Alex looked through the glass at us. I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. Why did he keep catching me with Mars and Wolf? It was always as innocent as possible, but Alex didn’t see it that way.

Taking a deep breath, I smiled, and opened the door.

Alex took one look at Mars’s cast and asked, “What happened to you?”

“Natasha tried to kill me,” joked Mars.

Alex glanced around. “Are you . . . are you
staying
here?”

Oh no.

Mars must not have felt the awkwardness I was experiencing, because he very casually said, “Temporarily.”

I hurried to add, “They don’t have running water right now, and there’s no bed on the main floor of their house.”

Alex gazed at Mars for a long moment. “Could I speak to you outside, Sophie?”

I followed him out the door, dreading what I knew would come.

Alex picked up my hands and held them in his. “Sophie, I was hoping we might have something special. So far, mostly we just seem to butt heads. I can’t deal with Wolf and Mars in your life. You’re obviously still devoted to them.” He glanced at the house. “Too fond of them, actually.
Call me when you’ve finally closed those doors.” He released my hands and turned to leave.

“Alex?” I said.

He stopped and looked back just enough to see me.

“They’re my friends. They’re part of my life. I will never close any doors on them.”

“Then you’re slamming one on me.”

How could I make him understand that I would never turn my back on my friends? I returned to the kitchen, where I chopped tomatoes for the salad with a slight vengeance.

Mars looked a little concerned when I minced garlic with the cleaver too vigorously. “Everything okay?”

I said yes and laughed, mostly because I didn’t want to talk about Alex with him. After slicing the two pork tenderloins lengthwise, about three-quarters of the way through, I slathered them with pesto, rolled them up, and browned them in oil.

Mars had filled two baking sheets with potatoes. I slid them into the oven.

“We’re almost done. Shall we eat in the dining room or outside?”

“I’d rather eat right here in the kitchen, if it’s okay with you.”

I assumed he didn’t want to lurch around on his crutches too much, so I readily agreed and threw a blue and yellow tablecloth over the table. I set the table with square peacock blue plates, sunflower yellow napkins, and cutlery. I would serve the food on my blue majolica serving dishes with the bright lemon pattern.

I took a minute to turn on music but made sure it played softly, at a background level.

“Peach sangria or lime margaritas?” I asked Mars.

He gave me a funny look but smiled. “Natasha never asks what I want. Definitely peach sangria.”

“You’re on.” I placed water and sugar in a pot on the stove for the syrup. Peach schnapps, frozen peaches, sliced fresh
peaches and strawberries, a squeeze of lemon juice, and sparkling wine went into a large glass pitcher. I popped it in the fridge. “Do you want to invite Natasha? Does she have running water yet?”

“It’s going to be a couple of days. They have to rip out drywall to get to the leak. She’s out tonight, though. Some kind of business meeting.”

“Oh?” I took the syrup off the stove to cool.

“I have no idea what it’s about. You know Nat. Always working on something new.”

I had a bad feeling it might involve her new chocolate manufacturing idea but chose not to butt in. There wasn’t anything Mars could do about it at the moment anyway.

Daisy lifted her head and swished her tail across the floor.

A moment later, Francie and her golden retriever, Duke, showed up with Humphrey, Nina, and Truffles. Bernie was a minute behind them.

My kitchen filled with chatter as they expressed their concern about Mars and asked questions.

I stirred the cooled sweet syrup into the pitcher, then lined up large wine glasses painted with summery flowers in shades of yellow, orange, and red.

Nina pulled colorful markers out of her pocket and promptly drew an abstract flower on Mars’s cast.

Bernie opened the box of appetizers he’d brought from the restaurant. I placed the shrimp summer rolls on a majolica platter. Peachy-colored shrimp and green cucumbers showed through the thin rice paper wrappers.

They took turns drawing on Mars’s cast, munching on the appetizers, and trying out the sangria.

I took the meat out of the oven and let it rest before slicing it.

Nina drew cute cartoonish sketches of the dogs on the cast with canine messages of sympathy. Not to be left out,
Mochie jumped in Mars’s lap and appeared to demand inclusion, which brought on a round of laughter.

Bernie accommodated him by adding a kitty face to the cast and signed Mochie’s name for him.

Humphrey carried platters of food to the table, and I took the chocolate cake out of the fridge. I left it on the counter to take the chill off so the flavor would develop. We sat down to eat, but it wasn’t long before dinner conversation gave way to gossip and speculation about Arnaud’s murder.

“Get a load of this!” Mars filled them in on Lori Speer’s fingerprints and his theory that she might have some connection to Arnaud because her brother’s truffle recipe tasted like Arnaud’s.

Bernie stopped eating. “Mars, are you taking strong medicine for the pain in your leg? Because you’re really stretching with that crazy notion.”

Francie frowned. “Have I met this Lori Speer?”

I smiled at my elderly neighbor. “See what you missed by not coming to the chocolate tasting?”

“Bah! I don’t think I missed a thing. Mars, I hate to offend you, but your theory sounds unlikely to me. Aren’t there other suspects?”

“Nina, pass me one of the markers, please,” said Mars. “Sophie, do you have a notepad in the kitchen?”

I rose to fetch a little notebook that I kept by the phone.

Mars wrote
Arnaud
at the top of the list. Underneath, he jotted,
Lori Speer, makes chocolates like Arnaud’s
. “Isn’t there another suspicious winner?” asked Mars.

“Cheryl Maiorca. She and Lori both came back to the Merano garden after the chocolate tasting. Cheryl was Arnaud’s cousin. Apparently he was a mooch. She said he took money from relatives but never paid them back, even when he was doing well.”

“
Hmmph
,” grunted Francie. “There’s a motive for you.”

“We can’t forget the whole Merano family,” said Nina.
“Starting with Coco. Most of them share the same motive. Fear of competition from Arnaud.”

Mars wrote the names of Coco, Mitch, and Dan. “I suppose we can eliminate Nonni and Joe?”

“Nonni is a delight. There’s no way that sweet little lady could ever kill anyone.” Bernie ate a bite of potato.

Francie snorted. “She’s tougher than you think. Nonni might look adorable, but I’m pretty certain there’s a fierce woman underneath that darling façade.”

I sipped my refreshing peach sangria. “Francie, do you honestly think she would have had the physical strength to strangle Arnaud?”

“She could have talked Dan into doing the dirty work for her.”

“Don’t forget Kara,” said Nina. She looked around the table at surprised faces. “You guys don’t know about Kara!” She told them the story of meeting Coco’s sister.

“Francie, have you ever heard of another sister?” I asked.

“I had no idea.”

Mars added Nonni and Kara to the list. I was skeptical about Nonni, but it was his list.

“Doesn’t anyone else think it’s suspicious that Joe disappeared around the same time?” I asked. “Both of them are chocolatiers.”

“What if Joe went into hiding to kill Arnaud?” asked Bernie.

“How would that work? He’d still need an alibi when he showed up again,” said Mars.

But I noticed him adding Joe to his list, too.

Dear Sophie,

I’m crazy for white chocolate. My wife insists that she can’t just substitute white chocolate in a recipe because it won’t work. I think that’s because she prefers dark chocolate. Who wins this bet?

—White Chocolate Fan in Whitelaw, Wisconsin

Dear White Chocolate Fan,

I’m afraid your wife is correct this time. You can bake with white chocolate but it cannot be substituted for other baking chocolates because it is very high in butterfat and will not act like other kinds of chocolate.

—Sophie

“Any leads on Joe?” asked Humphrey. “He was always so nice to me. I hate to imagine that harm came to him.”

“The only thing I know is that Kara was in town the night he disappeared,” I said. “I wish we knew more about her.”

“You could ask one of them,” said Francie. “I know I’d be willing to tell you just about anything for a piece of that chocolate cake.”

We took the hint. Bernie helped me clear the table.

I put on hot water for tea and coffee. “After-dinner drinks, anyone?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Bernie. “I’m not headed back to work tonight.”

Nina jumped up from the table. “I’ve been itching to try Chocolate Covered Berries. Everybody game?” She dashed into the dining room and returned with Chambord, Godiva liqueur, and six cordial glasses with identical stems but bowls of different colors and shapes. Retrieving Baileys Irish Cream from the fridge, Nina asked, “Who would benefit most from Joe’s death?”

It was a horrible question but one well worth consideration. Maybe Joe’s disappearance had nothing to do with Arnaud’s death.

“Wouldn’t the three children inherit equally?” asked Humphrey. “Or do you think he left Kara out of the will?”

“I suspect it’s more complicated than that.” I cut slices of cake and passed them to my friends. “Amore is a closely held, family-owned corporation. Aside from inheriting Joe’s personal assets, I wonder who would be in control of the company. Joe had a book in his room about ensuring the continuation of family corporations.”

“Wouldn’t that be Coco and Dan?” asked Francie.

Bernie handed out mugs of coffee and tea.

“Depends on how the stock ownership is set up. And who would inherit Joe’s shares.” Mars nabbed a knife from the table and slid it under his cast. “
Ahhh
,” he groaned with relief. “I can see why Joe would have been worried about it.”

“I thought Mitch was second in command after Joe,” said Nina. “Wouldn’t he continue running the company?”

Mars wiggled his eyebrows. “Depends on who his boss is. If Coco, Dan, and Kara are the shareholders, I guess he’d better kiss up to them.”

“A chocolate kiss?” Nina chuckled as she tried her berry concoction. “Ohh, not bad. I like this drink. Kara told us her family wouldn’t speak with her. Do you think Mitch is trying to win her over?”

I sat down again. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to win over Coco?”

“Maybe that’s why he’s kissing up to Kara. He’s afraid of being burned by Coco and Dan when her dad turns over the reins,” suggested Bernie.

“Would that be a good enough reason to get rid of Joe?” I asked.

“Probably, but then why would Mitch come to you about looking for him?” asked Bernie. “Maybe it’s Dan who thinks he’ll be out. Or Kara, though if she was written out of the will and everything else, it probably happened a long time ago, so why turn up now?”

The conversation turned to Nina’s delicious drink and the moistness of the chocolate cake I had made for Francie. But while they raved, I was thinking that I needed to know more about Kara. Maybe Joe’s administrative assistant, Marla, knew the scoop.

Nina stayed behind to help clean up when the others left. Truffles raced around the kitchen underfoot. She yapped at Mochie, who stalked out of the room with feline indignation. She yapped at Daisy, who didn’t even bother to lift her head.

“Feel like another walk tonight?” Nina asked.

“Sure. I have to take Daisy out anyway.” Besides, Nina wouldn’t get any sleep unless Truffles worked off some of that energy.

With the dishes done, we left Mars reading a book with Mochie on his lap, and ventured out into the night. I was glad
Nina had suggested a walk. The balmy air of the summer night lifted my spirits, evoking memories of vacations. Little Truffles followed Daisy’s lead. We practiced heeling, and the little cutie seemed to understand when she was supposed to sit.

“So how does it feel to have Mars home again?” asked Nina.

“Stop that. I hope you don’t say things like that to other people. You’ll give them all the wrong idea.”

“I noticed he didn’t insist you invite Natasha to dinner.”

“She was busy tonight. And he’s obviously still very miffed with her.”

“So—how’s it going?” Nina elbowed me.

At that moment, Coco crossed the street not too far from us.

Nina and I exchanged a look. Without another word, we picked up our pace and turned the corner to follow her.

Coco paused at a small gray town house with a blue door. She unlocked it and let herself in.

“
Hmmph
, somehow I don’t think that’s where Coco and Mitch live,” said Nina. “I imagined them in a much bigger place.”

“I don’t think so, either. Could it have been Kara?” I looked for some clue to the residents. No cutesy flowerpot with the family name on it. No mailbox, either. There was a slot in the door.

To the left, a wrought iron gate to the old service entrance was barely wide enough for one person. Although streetlights and the outdoor lantern by the front door imparted a charming glow, the tiny passageway along the side of the house wasn’t lighted at all.

“Think one of them is hiding Joe here?” asked Nina.

“I hope not! What would possibly posses them to do that?”

Nina shrugged.

I committed the house number to memory. “I can check the land records tomorrow to find out who owns this place.”

I stepped back a little to see if the lights had turned on upstairs.

A woman screamed like the world was ending.

Daisy strained against her leash and tugged me straight to the gate.

“Are you sure it came from this house, Daisy?” I asked.

“Maybe we should knock on the door and ask if everything is all right,” said Nina.

I nodded. That seemed reasonable. But Nina hadn’t even rapped on the door when we heard someone screaming, “No. No! No!” The wail of sorrow that followed made Daisy and Truffles howl in sympathy.

Nina banged against the door. “Coco? Kara?”

“Forget the door,” I said. “Call the cops.”

Nina pulled out her cellphone and pressed the numbers.

“Why didn’t we bring a flashlight?” Of course I knew the answer. Who would have expected to have to run into a dark passage?

Daisy pawed at the gate, and Truffles whined. I opened the gate and wedged inside.

“Sophie! Are you nuts?”

I hoped not. But I could hear someone crying. “Coco?” I called. I thought I would only take a few steps. That I would remain in the area lighted by the streetlamps. When my eyes adjusted, it didn’t seem quite so frightening, though. The glimmer of a light at the end of the passage gave me hope. But what if I came upon someone wielding a knife or a gun? I might be trapped. “Coco? Coco?”

“Back here!” Her voice sounded tearful.

Daisy lunged forward, forcing me to move faster. We jogged through the shadowy passageway. It opened to a narrow backyard. Under the light of a lantern mounted by the back door, Coco leaned over someone in a patio chair.

My heart plummeted. It had to be Joe. “Coco?” I spoke gently.

“I can’t find a pulse.” Her voice wavered with hysteria. “I think he’s dead,” she whispered. “He must have had a heart attack.”

She stepped aside for me to see him. The light from the house was enough for me to make out Randy, the Amore employee who had helped Coco with the memorial wreath. I paused in surprise and shock for just a second before feeling his wrist for a pulse.

Coco watched me hopefully. “Anything?”

I desperately wanted to tell her that he would be okay. But the truth was that I couldn’t find a pulse at all. I moved my hand to his throat.

A siren sounded very close by.

Coco’s eyes grew large. “I can’t be here. Sophie, cover for me, please?”

At the sound of boots on the brick passageway, Coco glanced around in panic. “I’ll go out through the house. You never saw me, okay?”

Before I could object, and before Coco could escape, it was too late.

Three EMTs calmly set about their business, examining Randy and asking questions. “Does he have a history of heart disease?”

Coco wasn’t much help. “No. Not that I know of.”

“Did he complain of pain or shortness of breath?”

“I just got here,” said Coco. “This is how I found him.”

I didn’t know what she was afraid of, but Nina and I could back up her claim that she had just arrived. I slid a reassuring arm around her.

The EMTs started CPR. I reeled Daisy in close and noticed that a glass had fallen on the brick pavers where Randy had sat. It hadn’t broken. Maybe it was plastic.

I could hear Coco softly reciting a prayer.

Nina and Truffles showed up. Even the little puppy seemed to understand that it was a somber time.

Coco clutched my hand and motioned toward the house
with her head. She led the way inside through a dated kitchen to a sizeable living room. Nina and I followed with the dogs.

Coco was so distraught she could hardly speak. She sat down on the sofa, placed her face in her hands, and sobbed.

Curiously, the room featured two identical fireplaces. I had noticed the historical plaque outside. It must have been two rooms decades ago when fireplaces were used for heat. White built-in bookshelves filled the space in between. No curtains hung on the windows. White interior shutters blocked passersby from seeing inside.

I retraced my steps to the kitchen in search of tissues and returned with a roll of paper towels. They would have to do.

Coco tore one off and dabbed her face. “I know this is asking a lot,” she blubbered, “but I need you to give me an alibi.”

Nina’s worried eyes met mine.

“You don’t need an alibi, Coco,” I assured her. “We saw you enter the house. There’s no way you could have killed him that fast without a knife or a gun.”

“You think Randy was murdered?” Coco choked and fell into a coughing fit.

I fetched a glass of water for her. “I’m so sorry, Coco. You must have been close to Randy.”

Her head snapped up. “Please,” she begged, “I came here with you.” She frowned at me. “What
are
you doing here?”

I sought a reason, not wanting to confess that we had followed her.

Nina piped up. “Just happened to be out walking the dogs when we saw you.”

That was true! I signaled Nina with my eyes.
Good thinking!

“All right.” Coco’s eyes searched the room frantically. “I walked with you because”—she looked around again—“we were looking for Bacio, and your dog ran into Randy’s backyard.” Coco closed her eyes and nodded. “That’ll work.”

“Who is Bacio?” I asked.

She opened her eyes. “My dad’s cat. He’s never left the
garden before. And now,” she wailed, “we can’t find him anywhere!”

I sat down next to Coco and hugged her.

An unfamiliar man entered the room and took Coco aside.

We overheard him say, “I’m so very sorry for your loss. Does Mr. Hicks have family we should notify?”

“He has a son in the military but I don’t know where he is,” said Coco. “I’ll try to locate him.”

“Do you know if Mr. Hicks had a particular funeral home in mind? We’ll be taking him for an autopsy but we need to know to whom the body should be released.”

That broke Coco up again.

I suggested the name of the mortuary where Humphrey worked. “If his son decides differently, she’ll let you know.”

Nina had a brief conversation with him while I tried to comfort Coco. We heard van doors closing outside. Nina returned and sat down in an easy chair.

I was painfully aware of the silence now that everyone had left.

Coco wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “It had been so long since I had seen Arnie that his death seemed surreal, but now to lose Randy, too—it’s almost too much to bear. Randy was such a kind soul. He was a sous chef at a restaurant and got fired for punching out a man who was beating his wife in the parking lot. Daddy saw the whole thing and hired Randy on the spot.” She burst into sobs again.

I gazed around the room. Randy’s taste was decidedly masculine. He opted for comfort over style, choosing brown leather furniture and utilitarian tables of hefty wood. But here and there I spied signs of a feminine hand. An Italian pottery cookie jar took center stage on a bookshelf. An elegant garnet throw that looked to be cashmere hung over the end of the sofa. A chunky gold bangle bracelet lay on an end table, as if someone had taken it off and left it there. I thought I recognized the bracelet . . .