The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss (9 page)

Dear Natasha,

I’ve noticed that a lot of chocolate cake recipes call for coffee. Doesn’t that make them mocha cakes?

—Baking Diva in Coffee City, Texas

Dear Baking Diva,

You’re my kind of gal. What an astute observation! Some people claim a little bit of coffee enhances the chocolate flavor without being noticed. Those of us with exceptional palates know otherwise. Thank you for asking this question and giving me the opportunity to clarify this misconception.

—Natasha

“You saw her with Arnie?” I asked, just to be clear.

“Oh yes. And whatever they were saying was not of a friendly nature. She was furious. Red as a beet. I better go before she gets suspicious.” Lori wiggled her eyebrows at
us. “I’ll be in touch if I learn anything more.” She jogged back to Cheryl.

“Think Cheryl felt that dagger twisting in her back?” asked Bernie.

“I feel kind of sorry for her. Lori’s an ex-cop. Cheryl might not even realize that she’s being interrogated.”

A hush fell over the people nearby. Solemnly, but without making a production, Coco walked to the door of Célébration de Chocolat, followed by Randy. Coco adhered a framed picture to the glass, and Randy positioned a wreath of white roses on a stand beneath it.

“I guess that settles it,” I whispered to Bernie. “Nonni’s story must have been true.”

Coco stood before the wreath in silence for a moment but when she turned to leave, she spotted Bernie and me. Coco motioned to Randy, and they strode our way.

“I’m so sorry, Coco. I hear you were once very close to Arnie.”

She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “If I had only known he was in town. Well, I mean, I knew Arnaud was here, I just didn’t realize that Arnaud was Arnie. How I would have loved to catch up with him. Hear how his life turned out.”

“From the looks of his store and everything I’ve heard about him, I’d say he was very successful.” I spoke in what I hoped was a comforting tone.

Randy patted her on the back. “He had a good life, Coco. Even if it was too short.”

“Nonni said you were quite smitten with him,” I prompted, eager to learn more about him.

“Arnie was my first true love. When he dumped me I thought my life was over. It was a good thing Daddy was tough and insisted I go back to college. Oh my. It was all so long ago.”

“Speaking of your father, any word from Joe yet?”

Coco stiffened. “Is it only me, or have you ever noticed that disasters seem to arrive in bunches? I can hardly deal
with all the crazy things that are happening. No. We haven’t heard a word from Daddy. We have all of our phones set up with recording devices, just in case someone calls with a ransom request. Honestly, I can’t imagine what happened to him.” Coco clutched her tissue to her chest, shaking her head. “I’m worried about Nonni, too, bless her heart. She dotes on Daddy so. We’ve decided to tell her he went on a business trip. I don’t know if she could take the stress of the truth.”

I wondered what Nonni thought of that. Somehow I didn’t think it was that easy to deceive her. “Are you certain that she doesn’t know where he is?”

“Oh, honey, no one wishes that more than I! If I thought she had the first clue, I would be badgering her. He just . . . vanished in the night. One day he was there and the next morning, there wasn’t a sign of him.”

“You know Sophie has solved a few”—Bernie paused and flicked a desperate glance in my direction—“cases. Maybe she should come by and have a look around Joe’s house?”

I sagged with relief that Bernie hadn’t said
murders
. There was always hope until a body was found.

Proving that was true, Coco leaped at Bernie’s offer. “Why don’t you come with us now? Maybe you’ll notice something that we missed.”

Bernie raised his eyebrows at me. I knew what he was thinking—this was my chance to get inside and find out if Joe was locked in a room upstairs. I made a face at him. Coco would never have invited me if that were the case. Unless they drugged him. What was I thinking? The Meranos weren’t the kind of people who would do something like that!

“Sure. I’d be happy to have a look around.” It was highly unlikely that the police had missed anything. Still, it was a chance to go inside. Maybe we would find something helpful. We walked the few blocks to the house.

Coco opened the unlocked front door. “Dan?” she called.

The four of us filed into the cool foyer, a welcome respite
from the heat. The foyer and adjoining living room were painted yellow with white woodwork.

“Stella? Dan? Did anyone call while we were out?” Coco turned toward me. “We’re not leaving the phones unattended just in case someone calls about Daddy.”

Dan sauntered out of the kitchen, a half-eaten chicken leg in his hand. “Nobody called.”

“I thought Stella was here with you.”

“She went to church with Nonni. They should be back soon.”

“Sophie, Daddy’s room is at the top of the stairs on the left.”

As I walked up the old staircase, almost every stair creaked a bit when I stepped on it. One thing was for sure. No one could sneak out of this house down these stairs without some noise.

I could hear Dan downstairs asking Coco what was going on.

Bernie was right behind me. We turned into the first room.

For a man whose home and business were worth millions, Joe’s bedroom was as simple as the man himself. True, a large oriental rug spanned the floor. Mostly cream and blue in the center, with several red borders tracing the edges. But the rest of the room was somewhat simple in taste. Nothing overly ornate or extravagant.

Old-fashioned wallpaper in cream and light coffee-colored vertical stripes surrounded us. It was very subtle and worked well in the large room. A king-sized bed was neatly made with a white matelassé spread.

Next to the white marble fireplace, a comfortable club chair covered in a cream and blue plaid fabric sagged slightly from use. A matching footstool rested against it. A giant carved wardrobe stood against a long wall. A huge mirror in the middle of it reflected us. On each side of the mirror were carved doors and drawers. A carved cornice swept across the top in a delicate arch.

A long colonial-style mahogany dresser with brass drawer pulls filled a niche near the door.

I perused the reading material on the small table by the chair—the latest thriller, a book on managing a family-owned business, and Winston Churchill’s memoirs. I picked up the book on family-owned businesses and thumbed through it. No notes, nothing underlined.

It did fall open to a chapter on continuity through generations. That wasn’t terribly surprising. Joe had to be around seventy. I could well imagine that he was concerned about retirement and who might take over at the helm of Amore. I closed the book and dared to peer inside the immense wardrobe.

Suits hung in an orderly fashion. I checked the pockets but found nothing. On the bottom, shoes lined up like little soldiers. Joe was an organized man. That came as no surprise. It fit with the image he projected.

I wandered over to the dresser. A small tray with brass corners sat on the top, empty. “Bernie, where do you keep your wallet?”

“In my back pocket.” He walked over to me. “Ah. You mean when I’m at home. I have a similar valet in my bedroom where I place it.”

I pulled open each of the top drawers one after the other. Each was dedicated to a type of clothing. Dress socks, boxers, sport-style socks, and the last one contained a number of lotions, combs, and brushes. I felt a little bit guilty going through his drawers. Poor Joe. He probably never imagined that someone would poke through them. But in the bottom right drawer, underneath neatly folded sweaters, I found a picture.

Creased in the middle, it showed signs of age. The hopeful face of a girl stared back at me. Around twelve years old if I had to guess.

Bernie peered over my shoulder. “Coco when she was a kid?”

“Probably.” She wore her dark hair straight and long and
grinned with enthusiasm. “Why would he keep this in the bottom of a drawer?”

“He probably just stashed it there and forgot about it.”

“I don’t think so, Bernie. Look at the edges. Someone has handled this picture a lot over the years.” I tucked the photo away where I had found it.

Bernie and I performed a quick scan of the remaining drawers. All of them were as immaculate and tidy as the rest of the room. No sign of a wallet, though.

“Looks like he has his wallet with him.” I said heading for the bathroom.

Bernie frowned. “What does that mean? That he left intentionally with someone he thought was a friend?”

“Or that he never made it back up here that night and still had his wallet in his pocket.”

Beautifully updated in white marble, the bathroom yielded nothing of interest. His toothbrush and toothpaste were even there, reinforcing the belief that he hadn’t intended or planned to leave.

“Suppose he has a home office?” asked Bernie.

“In a house this size? I think we can count on it.”

Bernie followed me into the upstairs hallway. “Think that’s the door Nina tried?” he murmured.

A quick glance around confirmed that it was the only closed door. The rest were wide open. “Probably.”

We tiptoed along the corridor. I looked back at Bernie. “Why do I feel so guilty? Like this is wrong?” I whispered.

“What if Nina is right, and they’ve locked Joe up?”

“I hardly think they would have invited us to come look around if that were the case.”

“Just try the door handle,” he hissed.

I grasped it in my hand and turned it down. A soft moan issued from the room. There was no mistaking the hollow sound of footsteps on a hardwood floor.

Dear Sophie,

I see the prettiest shaved chocolate curls decorating cakes. How can I do that at home?

—Loves to Bake in Shaver Town, Tennessee

Dear Loves to Bake,

It’s so simple you won’t believe you didn’t think of it. Use a vegetable peeler!

—Sophie

Bernie seized my hand and pulled. The two of us stumbled toward the stairs in haste and clattered down them like naughty children—right into Mitch.

“Find anything of interest?” he asked.

I sought something, anything, to say. “Joe certainly is a tidy man.”

Evidently my response caught Mitch off guard. He studied me, as if he was thinking. “Yes. Yes, he is.”

Bernie choked out, “Does he have a home study? A place where he might have kept papers or documents?”

Mitch nodded. “Sure. Follow me.”

He led us into a magnificent library. Three walls were paneled in fine cherrywood. The fourth wall featured floor-to-ceiling windows, trimmed in the same cherrywood.

A giant rolltop desk brimmed with tiny drawers that could hide a million little items. Family photos cluttered the top. Most of them were candid shots of Coco and Dan with their dad or Nonni. One professional photo stood out in an elaborate gold frame. A stunning woman with hair the color of espresso teased into a large fluff, 1960s-style, posed in a beaded gown with pearls around the base of her neck.

“That’s Coco and Dan’s mom,” offered Mitch.

“I see them in her face. She looks very kind, doesn’t she?”

“It’s her eyes and the soft angles of her face. You take the right side of the desk,” said Bernie, “and I’ll take the left.”

“What are you looking for?” asked Mitch.

“Anything that might tell us where he is. A calendar or date book. A note from someone. Who knows?”

“You should come by the office tomorrow. You could have a look around his desk there, too.”

I glanced back at Mitch. He was serious. He seemed genuinely worried about Joe.

Half an hour later, we knew where Joe kept paper clips, pens, pencils, envelopes, stamps, staples, and every other kind of office item imaginable. But we weren’t any closer to understanding what had happened to him.

We found Coco and Randy at the kitchen table, nibbling on leftover cake from the tasting. Coco wiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “Well? Did you find anything?”

“Have a seat,” offered Dan. “Coffee?” He poured coffee into two gorgeous mugs without waiting for our response.

When he brought them to the table, I admired the artistry of the mugs. They had to be handmade and hand-painted. They were shaped like a classic tulip mug, and a rich blue covered the middle. Hearts that looked more like abstract wheat and berries had been painted on the blue. Above and below, ornate rings of lighter blues, reds, and deep yellows circled the mugs. Yellow covered the rims and the rich blue accented the handles.

“They’re from Deruta in Umbria,” said Dan.

“They’re beautiful.” I wanted a set of my own but these weren’t the kind of thing I was likely to see at a garage sale.

Dan placed matching plates in front of us. “There’s a ton of leftovers from the tasting. Please help yourselves. So do you have any ideas about what happened to Dad?”

I sipped the strong coffee. “I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.

Mitch ambled into the kitchen. “Randy, what are you doing here?”

Coco flicked a worried look at Randy. “He was helping me place a wreath over at Célébration de Chocolat. Okay?”

Mitch appeared chastened. “Good idea, Coco. I should have thought of that. I hope it bore the Amore name somewhere.”

“Honestly, Mitch! It’s not about the business. It was the right thing to do. Arnie was very dear to me.”

“Of course. I forgot. In that case, you’re free to go, Randy.”

“He can stay for coffee and cake!” Coco said it softly.

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just didn’t want him to think he had to stick around. He has a life, too, Coco.”

Randy hadn’t said a word. He didn’t seem to be disturbed, which made me wonder if this wasn’t the first time that he’d heard this kind of conversation.

“What do you need to know?” asked Dan.

Although there were plenty of chairs around the table, Mitch leaned against the island, his arms folded over his chest.

“After the welcome dinner at the hotel, where did Joe go?”

“Home,” said Coco. “With Nonni.”

I started with Dan. “Where did you go?”

“I walked Stella to her place, and then I went home.”

“Where is your home?”

“I have a house on Lee Street. Stella rents an apartment on North Union, a couple of blocks from me.”

“When is the last time you saw your father?”

“When we left the hotel. We said good night, and I never saw him again after that.”

“How about you, Coco?” I asked.

“Coco and I walked home together,” said Mitch.

Coco stuffed chocolate cake into her mouth.

“I don’t know where you live. Did you walk back with Joe?”

“No. We went straight home. Right, Coco? We have alibis because we were together all night.”

She swallowed and nodded.

Alibis? Wasn’t that interesting? Would I have been worried about an alibi if my father or father-in-law disappeared? I didn’t think so. I studied their faces. Coco avoided my eyes and ate a piece of cake big enough to choke a horse. Mitch had no problem meeting my gaze. Yet I knew that one or both of them were lying. I had seen Coco out and about that night.

I faced Mitch. “Why would you need an alibi?”

Once again my question appeared to surprise him. “Well, something bad must have happened to him. It’s not at all like Joe to just take off without telling anyone.”

He was probably right about that. “So we don’t really know if Joe ever came home,” I speculated.

“Yes, we do. He came home with Nonni,” said Dan.

“Didn’t she hear anyone come to the door? Didn’t she see Joe leave?” asked Bernie.

Mitch sucked in air and rubbed his forehead. “Nonni isn’t all there anymore.”

Coco was a little kinder about it. “Once she removes her hearing aid and goes to bed, it takes a pretty loud noise to wake her.”

“If Nonni is confused, then how do we know for sure that they arrived home together?”

Much to my surprise, Coco looked at Mitch for an answer. Something strange was going on in this household.

Mitch was quick with an answer. “Nonni couldn’t find her way home by herself.”

That was odd. She’d had no trouble finding her way to my house.

“And none of the furniture was out of place? No sign of a scuffle?”

Coco shook her head. “Nothing.” She buried her head in her hands.

“Does anyone else live here? Is there a housekeeper?”

“A cleaning woman comes a couple of times a week but she doesn’t live here,” said Mitch.

I was itching to ask about the person in the locked room. Maybe that was better done one-on-one. I sensed some tension between them.

Bernie set his coffee mug on the table. “Does Joe have any enemies? Anyone he ticked off?”

“Absolutely not,” said Coco. “Ask anybody. Daddy is loved and respected by everyone. You can come by the office tomorrow and talk to some employees if you want.”

“You’re welcome to stop by, of course,” said Mitch, “but we haven’t told the employees that Joe is missing.”

Randy, who hadn’t said a word, finally piped up. “I imagine they’ll find out when the cops come by tomorrow morning to question them about the dead Belgian guy.”

Dan nodded. “I guess we’d better tell everyone first thing tomorrow morning.”

Mitch stiffened. “I don’t know what to tell them.”

It wasn’t like we had much to go on. I had come to two conclusions, neither of which I would have dared say in front
of Mitch. Something odd was going on in the Merano family. Some of them, especially Coco and Mitch, knew more than they were saying, but I would have to speak with Coco alone to get answers. “The only thing I know is that he took his wallet with him. Either he planned to go somewhere, maybe had an appointment to meet someone, or someone came here before he had a chance to go upstairs and empty his pockets.”

“An appointment,” mused Mitch. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I didn’t see a cell phone anywhere. Have the police tried pinging it?” I asked.

Mitch piped up. “We’re told it’s not pinging. The battery probably went dead.”

Bernie and I thanked them for the coffee and cake, and Coco walked us to the door. I itched to ask her a few questions but Mitch caught up to us.

“Thank you for changing your mind, Sophie. We all appreciate it.”

Bernie and I headed for home. He peeled off to check in at his restaurant, The Laughing Hound. I walked the few blocks home by myself, wondering if there could possibly be a connection between Joe’s disappearance and Arnaud’s murder.

I wasn’t quite to my house yet when I saw Wolf banging the knocker on my front door. I called his name and waved. But the closer I came, the more I realized something was wrong. Wolf was an ace at hiding his emotions. I hadn’t seen him so upset in years.