The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss (20 page)

Coco gave me a wild-eyed look and whispered, “Oh, Sophie! How could you?” as she flew by me.

Dear Sophie,

People are always giving my mother chocolate bars as gifts. Consequently, she uses them to bake with instead of baking chocolate. I think that’s unwise but she won’t listen to me. Will you tell her?”

—Bossy Daughter in Candy Town, Ohio

Dear Bossy Daughter,

I’m afraid I have to agree with you. Chocolate bars intended for snacking contain different amounts of fat, sugar, and chocolate. If she sticks with unsweetened, bittersweet, or semisweet chocolate meant for baking, she’ll achieve better and more consistent results.

—Sophie

I wanted the floor to open up underneath me. The War of the Meranos was about to commence in my tiny family room. I braced for the onslaught.

It began with gasps. They turned into shrieks. And then the screaming started. It didn’t take long for Coco to self-eject from the family room. She paused in my kitchen just long enough to point at me and spit, “You’re fired. Don’t ever show your face at Amore again. Not even as a customer.”

Kara was on her heels, though, and followed Coco out the door. I peered through the bay window and saw them as they turned onto the sidewalk. Coco walked as fast as she could in fashionable flats. Kara kept pace without any trouble in sneakers.

They stopped and faced each other. Even though they were shouting, I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Nina, Natasha, and Francie crowded behind me, watching. Even Mars managed to hobble into the kitchen in a hurry.

Coco and Kara’s hands flew in wild gestures. They didn’t alternate speaking, like one does in normal conversation. They were so heated they just kept raising their voices and shouting over each other.

And then Coco threw up her hands and marched away. Kara followed her, two paces behind. The war hadn’t ended, it was just moving to another location.

“Well!” Natasha patted her hair into place. “I knew Mars couldn’t be interested in you, Sophie. Imagine Coco thinking such a thing for even a second. Undressed! Ridiculous!”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” I muttered wryly.

“Did I hear her say you’re fired?” asked Natasha.

“You did. The big farewell banquet is tomorrow night at The Laughing Hound.” I flapped my hand through the air. “That should be a snap for Coco to handle.” I forced a smile at them. “I guess I have some unexpected time off.”

But inside, I felt as though I had done something wrong. I hadn’t, of course. On one level I knew that. Still, it bothered me.

Francie seemed to read my mind. She ran a comforting hand across my back. “It wasn’t pretty, but it was important for them to be face-to-face again. You just wait and see. Something good will come of it. I think I’ll go call my sister.”

Every one of us looked at her in shock.

“You have a sister?” asked Nina.

“I don’t talk about her much. She’s a crotchety old blabbermouth. Always asking questions that are none of her business. Drives me batty.”

Thankfully she left before the laughter broke out. I hoped she couldn’t hear us.

“I believe I could use a drink,” said Nina. “Is it cocktail time for anyone else?”

Mars was game but I declined. “That horrible cop Wolchik might return. I think I’d better keep my wits about me.”

“Now you’ve gone and taken all the fun out of a little stress reliever,” Nina complained.

“Sorry. I need a strong cup of hot tea. Anyone else?” I asked.

“How can you drink anything hot in this weather?” Natasha gazed around at us. “It’s summertime! The livin’ is supposed to be easy.”

It was anything but easy. I set the kettle on the stove, wondering where she had been.

“If the police are coming back, I’d better bake something for them.”

Mars groaned and drew a hand over his face. “Spare me.”

“I think it’s a great idea.” With any luck she would chase them away.

While my tea steeped, I poured more iced tea for Nina and Mars and handed the glasses to them.

Natasha bustled about my kitchen.

I added milk and sugar to my tea and settled at the banquette. “It all started with Joe. No, it didn’t. It started with Kara. She came to town, and then Joe disappeared.”

Nina wrinkled her nose at me. “I don’t think Kara had anything to do with that. Seriously, what would it accomplish?”

“Maybe she harbors some deep psychological resentment and killed him,” suggested Mars.

“Wouldn’t that anger be toward Coco? Why Joe?” I moved on with my thoughts. “Not even twenty-four hours later, Arnie—Arnaud was murdered. Stella put it pretty well when she said people all over the world were upset with him. If all the Meranos had motives, who had opportunity?”

“Everyone in attendance. The only one that eliminates is Kara.” Mars sounded discouraged. “We’re going at this all wrong. What he did to Lori Speer’s brother, and to the Merano family, and to Cheryl and her family—all of that was in the past. No one bothered killing him for it over the years. I hardly think they’d do it now. Who had a current motive?”

Nina tapped her fingernails on the table. “Stella. Mars told us about you finding the invitation she must have sent to Arnaud for the chocolate tasting. She wanted him there for some reason.”

“I hoped she sent it because he was going to hire her . . .” But as I spoke, the theory fizzled along with my words. “She was watching him at the hotel.”

“Aha!” Mars sat forward. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Looks like Stella might be our culprit.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Because she was watching him?”

“Yes! Don’t you see? She must have known who he really was and had some interest or possibly contact with him before his death.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe she was observing him because she knew he was Arnaud. And I might also point out that Cheryl Maiorca knew he was really Arnie, the slimeball relative,” I pointed out.

“That’s right!” Nina spoke with excitement. “And she baked that incredible chocolate cake. Maybe she thought she would inherit Arnaud’s chocolate business!”

“People have certainly killed for less.” Mars stretched. “I wish I could get up and run around.”

“Really? Where would you go?” I sat up, hoping he had a great idea.

“Well, now that we know something’s wrong with the chocolate, I think it’s safe to assume that the murders, including possibly Joe’s, had something to do with that. In Arnaud’s case, the killer had a lot of guts to strangle him right there when anyone could have seen him.”

“But no one did,” Nina observed.

Natasha stopped chopping chocolate. “I did. I saw that other handyman, Vince, going into the guesthouse.”

Nina groaned. “Oh, please. I was in there, too. That doesn’t mean anything.”

Natasha pouted. “He worked with Randy. Maybe he wanted Randy’s job.”

Vince. I’d never given him any thought. “Does anyone know anything about Vince?”

Natasha preheated the oven. “I can see that I will have to make inquiries now that Sophie has alienated the entire Merano clan.”

“What are you baking?” I asked.

Mars leaned toward me and whispered, “The repair guys kicked her out.”

That came as no surprise. “So that’s why she’s hanging around here.”

Natasha dried her hands on a towel. “I was so shocked by your lack of staples”—she counted them off on her fingers—“no jalapeños, no mustard greens, no oysters, no truffles of the mushroom type—”

“Good heavens,” Nina blurted. “No wonder poor Mars is always over here sniffing for food like a starving dog.”

“I don’t have eye of gnat or toe of rat, either. What are you baking?”

Natasha looked as though she’d been slapped. “Don’t be
ridiculous.” But she gazed at Mars with a worried brow. “You could defend me, you know.”

“Nat,” he said gently, “you try too hard. Caviar isn’t special on top of ice cream.”

Natasha shook her forefinger at him. “That’s not true. That pregnant lady loved it.”

“It’s just that sometimes people like to eat food that’s familiar and comforting. Chocolate chip cookies don’t have to be spicy. Mac and cheese doesn’t need chocolate chunks in it, and let’s not mention the seaweed lasagna.”

I thought Natasha might break down. She was getting some tough love.

She raised her chin, though, and explained, “You don’t understand that as a lifestyle authority, I am expected to be on the cutting edge of new trends. I can’t just prepare the same old thing. Then I would be like”—she glanced at me—“everyone else. I have to forge ahead and find new flavor combinations. Though I will admit that the seaweed lasagna was a mistake.”

Nina screwed up her face. “You’re the one with a sophisticated palate, Natasha. Why don’t you bake with things like bourbon?”

Mars seemed much happier. “I love bourbon. What’s more Southern than bourbon?”

“Do . . . you . . . have any bourbon, Sophie?” asked Natasha.

I brought her three bottles.

Nina perked up. At first I thought it was the bourbon that picked up her spirits, but then she said, “We never did go over to check Mitch’s yard for signs of recent digging.”

“Oh puh-leeze, Nina! Like Coco wouldn’t have noticed if Mitch dug up the yard?”

“What if she’s protecting Mitch? What if she’s in on it?”

“I’ll grant you that she might have murdered Arnaud. But if her dad was murdered—and isn’t just missing—I can’t imagine her being involved in that. Besides, we don’t know the address.”

“I do.”

I shot her a questioning look.

Nina shrugged. “So I asked around. It’s worth a look. Come on.”

The sad truth was that we didn’t have any better ideas. We left Truffles and Daisy with Mars and walked over to Mitch and Coco’s house. Not surprisingly, it was an impressive house built in the colonial style favored in Old Town. Not as majestic or large as Joe’s house, but quite lovely. The historic plaque by the front door left no doubt about its age or authenticity. Although the windows that fronted the street were huge, we couldn’t see inside.

“Not that I would ever say
I told you so
but—”

Nina lifted the latch on the gate in the brick fence next to the house.

“—you’d better be careful. A lot of those gates are weighted with a cannonball to make sure they swing shut. They make an incredible racket,” I hissed.

“Look at this garden. It’s beautiful!”

It was lovely. A smaller version of Joe’s garden, ancient trees and thick bushes lined the perimeter just inside the brick fence. A round brick seating area in the middle offered benches and chairs with plush cushions the color of yellow daffodils. Tables inlaid with blue and yellow tiles that must have been Italian were bunched with colorful tall vases and planters overflowing with blooms.

Nina jabbed me. “Look,” she whispered, pointing to a freshly dug flower bed. “It’s the right size for a body.”

Dear Sophie,

My wife says some diva authority told her she can’t make chocolate trifle. Please tell her that ain’t so!

—Disappointed in Greystone, West Virginia

Dear Disappointed,

Of course she can make chocolate trifle. She could use chocolate cake instead of a white cake, or she could make a chocolate custard, or she could do both!

—Sophie

“Big enough for Nonni maybe. Certainly not for a man,” I whispered.

Undeterred, Nina crept forward.

I nabbed the back of her dress. “Are you nuts? We’re trespassing, and it’s broad daylight.”

“I should have thought of that. We’ll come back tonight with shovels.”

“We’ll do no such thing! Coco is already furious with me, and that idiot Wolchik wants to nab me on something. Let’s get out of here.”

“Give me just a minute more.”

“No! I’m going.” I turned tail and hurried out of the gate, trying to look like I belonged there, just in case anyone was walking by.

And I rushed right into Nonni.

I was horrified, but she wrapped her arms around me like I was her own child. “Sofia, Sofia. You bring my Kara back to me.”

That was putting the best spin on it. “Nonni, Marla called her. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

She let go of me. “Now Marla is gone. What is happening to us, Sofia? It’s the curse!” She lifted her forefinger and little finger again.

“What curse, Nonni?”

“Curse on the Meranos. One good thing happen, and one bad thing happen together. Always it is like this.”

A muffled scream came from the backyard. If Nonni noticed it, she didn’t let on. I, on the other hand, was cringing inside. Nina had been caught.

“Now Kara is back, and Marla—poof!” Nonni linked her arm into mine. “Come with me. We greet Kara.”

“Kara is here? At Coco’s house?”

“Is wonderful!”

“Nonni, I don’t think so. Coco is very angry with me. You go ahead and have a nice reunion with Kara.”

Coco’s front door opened, and Nina stumbled out, followed closely by Lori Speer and Cheryl Maiorca. Coco’s face blazed with fury.

“There you are!” Nina exclaimed. “We lost you.”

She was trying to send me some kind of signal with wide
eyes but I couldn’t quite read it. I figured it meant,
Play along and get me out of here because they caught me
.

“Coco, I’m so sorry.”

Coco helped Nonni up the few stairs to her door. “About spying on me or about secretly meeting with Kara?”

“We weren’t spying on you.” I wished I had sounded more convincing.

Nonni tottered inside, and I could hear her shrieking with joy.

Coco turned a cold face to me. “It’s funny. My dad had total confidence in you, but Mitch didn’t trust you. I usually side with my dad because he’s a good judge of character, but this time, he was dead wrong.”

She walked inside and closed the door. The lock clicked with ominous finality.

I hoped Joe was only wrong and not dead, too. Well, we got what we deserved for snooping. I was horrified, embarrassed, and ashamed.

Lori and Cheryl breathed heavily.

“What were
you
doing in their garden?” I asked.

“Lori thought we might find Joe.” Cheryl shook her head at Lori. “I told you that was a bad idea. And the Meranos have been so nice to us, too.”

Lori wasn’t quite as undone as Cheryl. “We went over Joe’s garden very carefully. I honestly thought Coco and Mitch might have buried the old fellow over here.”

“See?” muttered Nina. “It wasn’t such a dumb idea after all. Did you see where the dirt had been recently dug?”

“We did!” Lori was in her element. “I even lay down beside it as a measurement but it’s too short to be Joe.”

“And that was when Coco saw us.” Cheryl grimaced at the thought. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“You’ll get over it. What’s a little embarrassment when your cousin was brutally murdered?” asked Lori. “Who knows what might have happened to Joe.”

I motioned them to move along the sidewalk so Coco
couldn’t overhear if she happened to open a window or a door. It seemed wrong to discuss her family right in front of her house. “Are you suggesting that one of the Meranos murdered Joe?”

Lori pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m considering possibilities. All the winners think Joe’s disappearance is bizarre. It’s not unusual to have power wars within a family, especially when a big business like Amore is involved. I hope Joe is still alive. He’s a lovely man. But I can’t help wondering if someone in his own family is behind his mysterious absence.”

I hoped she was wrong. Lori and Cheryl went on their way, with Cheryl still yammering at Lori about her boneheaded idea of sneaking into Coco’s yard.

I could relate. But I couldn’t really blame Nina. I had gone along with her.

Nina joined Mars and me for dinner that night. They chattered about their theories, but I tuned them out while I sliced mushrooms for a simple pasta sauce. The two of them gabbed nonstop during our linguini and mushroom main course with a summer salad topped with creamy homemade ranch dressing.

My mind was on the Merano family, too. I felt terrible. Coco hated me. I’d been fired from my job, a first for me. I felt like I had let them all down. It finally dawned on me that there was one thing I could do to help them. I could bring Bacio, their cat, home.

After the kitchen had been cleaned up, and Nina had gone home, I left Daisy with Mars so she wouldn’t scare the cat.

Streetlights glimmered in the night. Large windows glowed with warmth in the old houses that nearly sat on the sidewalk. Crickets chirped in the quiet night.

I stopped across the street from the house in question. The cat sat on the stoop as usual. Someone must have turned off a light upstairs, because the windows went dark.

A minute later, the front door opened.

A man stepped out, bent to scratch behind the cat’s ears, and went on his way. Could he be Joe? The cat followed him, and so did I.

For three seconds, I got a better look at him as he walked under a streetlamp. There was no doubt about the long gray ponytail and baseball cap. I stopped midstride. It wasn’t Joe at all. It was Vince, the Amore handyman.

Given the time of night, he was probably headed to a bar. Still, I followed him in the hope that he might lead me to some kind of clue about what was going on.

To my surprise, Vince walked up to the front door of the Amore offices. I dodged behind a tree and someone grabbed me from behind.