The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss (16 page)

“Mitch asked me to stop by and have a look around Joe’s office.”

“Mitch?” Her slender hand moved to the phone and rested on it.

“A little surprising, I know. He thought I might notice something that had been overlooked. He’s worried about Joe.”

Her hand slid off the phone, and she chewed her lower lip. “Okaaay.” She stretched the word out as if she wasn’t sure.

“Why don’t you come into his office with me? That way you’ll know what I’m doing.”

“All right. You go ahead, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

She picked up the telephone and smiled at me.

I walked into Joe’s office but left the door open. I could hear her ask someone, “Where’s Mitch?” After a few seconds, she said, “Call me the minute he comes back.”

She watched me from the doorway, fidgeting with the belt on her dress. In her forties, she was slender and attractive. I’d seen her eyes light up with laughter in the past but she was some kind of nervous today.

“Was that so we can skedaddle out of here when Mitch returns?”

Marla flushed as red as a raspberry. “I’m sorry.”

Nonni had called him a bossy rooster. “Don’t be. I’m sure he can be pretty intimidating.”

“He didn’t really ask you to come here, did he?”

“Actually he did.” I pulled open the top drawer of Joe’s desk. Pens, paper clips, ordinary office items. I knelt on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

I glanced at the underside of the middle drawer and the side drawers. “Just checking to see if he taped anything to the drawers to hide it from view.”

“I never thought of that. I’m worried sick about him.”

I flipped through his daily calendar. Except for the welcome dinner, he didn’t have anything noted for the night of his disappearance. “Not into a computer calendar yet?”

“He keeps both. He relies on that one on his desk, though. Some old habits die hard.”

“I heard you called Kara.” I said it as casually as I could.

She gripped the doorframe. “Mitch made me call her.”

The phone rang in her office. Marla excused herself to answer it. I heard her gasp.

Dear Sophie,

My sister was going to bake some brownies but we didn’t have any baking chocolate. Is there a substitute that can be used in case she tries to use that excuse again?

—Skeptical Little Brother in Sisters, Oregon

Dear Skeptical Little Brother,

Next time suggest she try using three tablespoons of unsweetened cocoa powder plus one tablespoon of butter or vegetable oil for each ounce of baking chocolate.

—Sophie

“Thank you for letting me know,” said Marla. It took a few minutes before she returned to the door. Her hair was a bigger mess than before and something in her eyes had changed. They were restless and wary.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

Her mouth twisted, and she didn’t answer me right away. “Fine.”

“Why didn’t Mitch call Kara himself?”

“She hasn’t communicated with the family in years,” said Marla. “He thought she would hang up on him.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t work here then. I don’t really know many details. Joe said once that it was the biggest regret in his life.”

“What did he regret?”

“That she ran away, I guess. I think he felt it was his fault.”

“Why wouldn’t she keep in touch with Coco, Dan, and Nonni?”

“I really don’t know. I don’t dare mention her name . . . and there’s really no reason to.”

“Where did you get her phone number?”

“Joe’s desk. Lift the blotter,” she instructed.

I lifted the edge of it and found a simple sheet of paper. “Is this Joe’s handwriting?”

Marla nodded.

It didn’t say much, just Kara’s phone number and an address in Colorado. I lowered the blotter and straightened it.

“Do you think Kara could have anything to do with Joe’s disappearance?”

The surprised expression on her face told me she hadn’t even considered such a thing. “Oh my word! That seems unlikely.”

I scanned the items on his bookshelves. They reflected Joe’s simple tastes. Pictures of his family, Italian ceramics, chocolate awards, and a display of the packaging for Amore chocolates. I stood there for a moment, musing that they summed up Joe’s interests and life fairly well. He was a devoted family man, proud of his Italian heritage, and a workaholic determined to make the most of the family chocolate business. I turned to Marla.

“Did anything out of the ordinary happen recently? Unusual phone calls to Joe? Anything like that?”

She shook her head in the negative.

“What about Arnaud? Was there any contact between Joe and Arnaud Turnèbe?”

“Not that I’m aware of. His name came up, naturally. There was some concern that his new store would cut into sales at our local store. But it wasn’t anything outside of a normal business context.”

“That’s the store Stella manages?”

“Right.”

I pointed toward the array of boxes. “Is there any other packaging in use by Amore?”

“Not that I know of.” She frowned at me. “I’m not following. Other boxes?”

“Do they have a line, say, without the name of the company embossed on the box? Maybe small red boxes for the hand-dipped gourmet line?”

She licked her top lip. “No. I don’t think so.”

“What do
you
think happened to Joe?”

She hesitated a second too long. She knew something. Or suspected something. “I don’t know,” she replied in a whisper. Speaking in a normal tone again, she said, “Thanks for coming by. You know what? I believe I’ll walk downstairs with you to get some lunch.”

I didn’t say a word about the sandwich on the console that she hadn’t finished or that it was still early for lunch.

She collected her purse in a rush and held the door open for me. She chattered about the weather on the way down the stairs. Outside on the sidewalk, she waved good-bye and hurried along the street.

I followed her for a few blocks to a parking garage. She pulled out a minute later, driving a white Toyota RAV4, far too fast for Old Town.

There was nothing more to do but walk home.

While Mars and I noshed on leftovers for lunch, a wicked
summer storm arose, complete with thunder, lightning, and torrential rain. When it wound down to a rhythmic patter, we both hit our computers and worked from home.

The rain had almost stopped when I took Daisy with me to check on the Amore winners. They had all returned, giddy about their television appearances. Daisy was thrilled with all the attention, wagging her tail nonstop. Mars and I spent a quiet evening at home, speculating about the Meranos, Arnaud’s death and Joe’s whereabouts. We always came back to the same question–what had happened to drive Kara away?

In the morning, I skipped breakfast to get an early start. But I took the time to cut a quarter of the chocolate cake and wrap it in cellophane, tying it off with a lime and white gingham bow. I walked over to the hotel to check on the Amore crowd first. Coco had arranged for them to visit the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. They boarded buses, looking a little tired after the stress of the previous day.

From there, I walked over to Joe’s house.

I rang the bell and Nonni answered the door.

“Sofia! I am thinking about you. Come, come.” She swept her hand inward.

I followed her to the kitchen and handed her the cake.

Nonni untied the bow and sniffed it. “Is beautiful. You drink coffee with me. Yes?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, and poured coffee into two of the stunning Italian ceramic mugs. “Please, sit. Now, you tell me who kill Arnaud.”

“I’m still working on that but I need some information, please.”

Dan stumbled in looking tousled and tired. He gave Nonni a kiss. I thought he had a place on Lee Street but it appeared that he had spent the night at Joe’s house.

“You excuse me. I get breakfast for Danny.”

“Nonni! I told you not to do that. Sit, I can get it myself.” Dan smiled at me. “Good morning! When I stay over, Nonni always pampers me like I am still a kid.”

Nonni shook her finger at him. “He thinks I cannot hear the telephone at night.”

Dan made a little face. “Nonni, when you take out your hearing aids you don’t hear a thing.” He glanced my way. “In case we get a call about Dad.”

I sipped my coffee. It was strong and hot. Nonni had added milk and sugar to it.

Dan ambled to the stovetop and shook his head. “You made me eggs.” He looked up at me. “I can’t keep her from waiting on me hand and foot. Would you care to join me?”

“No, thanks. I just wanted to ask a few questions.”

Dan brought his plate to the table. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

I was hesitant. I’d hoped to get Nonni alone. They would share anyway, so I forged ahead. “Could you tell me about Kara?”

Dan stopped chewing. His fork clattered to his plate.

Nonni appeared to stop breathing.

“Are you all right, Nonni?” I asked.

“Why you ask about Kara?” Nonni demanded.

Dan heaved a huge breath and released it in a long whoosh. “I think it’s pretty obvious, Nonni. She’s figured out the connection.”

“Kara has nothing to do with this. No one kill Arnie because of something that happens thirty years ago.”

“It might help if I knew what transpired,” I suggested.

Dan had forgotten about his food. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “Coco and Kara were in love with the same man.”

Dear Sophie,

I hate to be so clueless, but I’m always seeing desserts with ganache. It seems to be the latest thing. What is it exactly?

—Starter Cook in Start, Louisiana

Dear Starter Cook,

Ganache is simply chocolate mixed with cream. It can be used as a glaze, an icing, a sauce, and even a filling. It has a beautiful sheen that is very attractive.

—Sophie

“Kara and Coco were both in love with Arnie?” I asked.

Nonni’s sweet mouth pulled tight. “Was horrible. Two sisters who were so close.”

“Arnie ruined our lives. He took a family”—Dan pretended to twist something in his hands—“and broke it into a million little pieces. We’ve never been the same. It’s all
his fault. Arnie was two-timing them. Can you imagine? It’s bad enough to two-time any women, but sisters?”

“So what happened?”

“I remember the screaming and crying like it was yesterday.” Dan screwed up his face and winced at the memory. “Arnie took off, like a worm. He ran away from the problem.” Dan glanced at Nonni before he continued. “Kara raced after him in her car. It was a cold winter night. Very icy with snow coming down like crazy. Everyone was in an uproar. Mom and my grandfather, Nonno, went after Kara. It wasn’t very far, just up the road to the airport. It wasn’t as developed up there as it is now. Somehow, Kara caught up to him. She must have been driving like crazy. She stopped her car, jumped out, and she and Arnie argued in the middle of the road. Arnie knocked her to the ground. My grandfather, Nonno, must not have seen them until the last minute because of the snow. He slammed the brakes, and swerved to avoid hitting them. The car rolled over and landed in the Potomac. Nonno died, and Mom has been an invalid ever since.”

“That’s why Kara left? Because she felt it was her fault?”

“Was the fault of no one!” said Nonni emphatically.

Dan turned sad dog eyes toward me. “The next day, Kara pursued Arnie anyway. Mom was in the hospital, Nonno hadn’t even been buried, and Kara took off again to be with Arnie.”

I was stunned. “She chose Arnie over her family.”

“She was foolish young girl in love. She thinks she has found her man.” Nonni leaned toward me, waggling her finger. “But Arnie, he really loves Coco. This is why he comes back now.”

“Was there a rivalry between Coco and Kara?”

“They were good sisters, sharing everything,” said Nonni.

Sharing a man wasn’t quite as easy as borrowing a sweater. I thought I knew the answer to my next question but I wanted to hear their version. “Have you been in touch with Kara? Didn’t she ever come home?”

“She left us to deal with cleaning up the disaster she wrought on us.” Dan’s jaw twitched as though he couldn’t control it. “She ruined our lives, our family. I was only fifteen when we fell apart. Nonno was gone. Mom was still with us, but barely. Coco cried all the time. Dad hid at work. I don’t know what would have become of us if it hadn’t been for Nonni.”

She reached over and patted his hand. “You food is cold!”

Dan swigged the remainder of his coffee. “It’s okay, Nonni, I’m not that hungry.”

“What happened to Kara and Arnie?” I asked.

“We never heard another thing about Arnie,” said Dan. “And Kara was dead to us.”

“Dan! You no talk about Kara that way.” Nonni reprimanded him sharply. “Kara never returns home again.”

The family had lost a lot and spent years suffering. No wonder they didn’t talk about Kara.

I gazed around the kitchen. “Did you ever find Bacio?”

Nonni clasped her hands together. “Joe’s wife misses Bacio. We all do. You know what it means,
Bacio
?”

I shook my head.

“Kiss. Is Italian for kiss.” She leaned over and kissed Dan’s cheek, ruffling his hair like he was still a little boy. “You must forgive you sister.”

“I forgave Coco a long time ago.”

“Is not what I mean.”

“Coco is the only sister I have, Nonni.” Dan rose from the table and walked out.

Nonni wrung her hands like she was washing them. “No one forgives Kara. It was wrong to leave us. To chase this man. But she was young and foolish.” She leaned toward me and grasped my hand. “Sofia, you must let the old wrongs go. There is no good in hanging on to them.”

She saw me to the door and thanked me again for bringing the cake. I strolled home, feeling like I’d been run over by a bulldozer. How would I have coped if my sister
abandoned our family in favor of a two-timing louse? Granted, Kara had been young, and we all made poor judgments when we thought we were in love.

Obviously, Joe had kept tabs on his daughter. Dan resented Kara to this day. Nonni wanted to forgive her. I wondered how Coco felt about her sister after all these years.

I stopped at Mars’s favorite deli to pick up sandwiches for lunch and ran into Humphrey and Francie.

“We were just talking about you,” Francie exclaimed.

Humphrey beamed at me. “I was going to call you as soon as I picked up my lunch.” He lowered his tone and whispered, “I’ve been dying to tell you since yesterday. You know Randy? The Amore handyman? He didn’t die of natural causes.”