The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss (17 page)

Dear Natasha,

I love your show. Your taste is so exquisite. I’ve painted every room in my house high-gloss gray like you advised, and it’s never been more stunning. I need to make a showy dessert for guests. Would you do an episode on how to make chocolate trifle?

—Your Biggest Fan in Greystone, West Virginia

Dear Biggest Fan,

Your home must be terribly elegant. Send pictures! I hate to disappoint you, but a proper trifle is made with custard, fruit, and sponge cake, never with chocolate.

—Natasha

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Humphrey nodded. “I was at the medical examiner’s office yesterday. They were all buzzing about it, but I couldn’t tell you until it was official. There was no sign of
a heart attack, so they ran some tests and found phytolaccatoxin.”

“What is that? I’ve never heard of it.”

“American pokeweed,” said Francie. “The same plant you pulled out of your garden. Very toxic stuff. I’ve seen recipes for cooking the berries, which I find odd, because the stalk and roots are deadly. Personally, I wouldn’t take a chance on the berries.”

“They’re everywhere. I see them all the time when I’m driving by wooded areas. I had no idea they were so poisonous.” I leaned against the wall. “I can’t believe this. It couldn’t have been accidental. No one would eat a weed like that. Why? Why kill Randy?”

“Maybe he murdered Arnaud,” said Francie.

“And someone knew,” suggested Humphrey.

“Coco.” It was the barest whisper but they heard me. “Coco was, um, close to Randy. He did a lot of errands for her.”

“They were having an affair?” asked Francie, cutting to the chase as usual. “Hah. Never would have suspected them as a couple.”

“That’s not what I said,” I insisted.

“We’re all adults.” Francie shook her head. “We know what that means.”

“You can’t tell anyone!” I hissed. “Mitch doesn’t know.”

“Someone better tell Wolf,” said Humphrey.

I felt terrible for Coco. She was doing the wrong thing by having an affair, but since her marriage was essentially over, I didn’t really blame her for seeking love elsewhere. And now the truth would come out. If Randy had died of natural causes, Mitch might never have been the wiser.

“How do we know that Mitch isn’t having an affair, as well?” asked Francie. “These things often work both ways when a marriage is on the rocks.”

“What if it’s not because of the affair at all?” I asked. “Maybe someone murdered Randy because he knows where Joe is.”

We left the deli and went our separate ways. Had Mitch found out about Coco’s affair? Wouldn’t he have been the one most likely to kill Randy?

Stunned by the news, I wound my way home past Célébration de Chocolat, the shop Arnaud hadn’t lived to open. He’d only died on Saturday and poor Arnaud was nearly forgotten. Only Coco’s wreath still marked his passing. He might have been a two-timing letch, but he deserved to be remembered.

As I stood there looking at his storefront, Natasha walked by inside the store. I blinked a few times and peered through the window for a closer look. It was definitely Natasha. I rapped on the glass.

Natasha pushed the door open. “Mars isn’t with you, is he?”

I stepped inside. “You broke his leg, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t walk.”

“Well, yeah, it kind of does. But he’s not with me. What are you doing here?”

“I’m going to rent this place. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Rent it?” I screeched. I coughed and tried to control my voice. “For your chocolate business?”

“All I have to do is change the name in the front to
Natasha
. Well, that and order new boxes that say
Natasha
. It’s almost ready to go.”

“Have you ever made chocolates in your entire life?”

She averted her gaze. “Don’t you love the display cases?”

“Natasha! Are you out of your mind?”

“You’re just jealous. You wish you had thought of this.”

“Don’t turn this around and make it about me. Honey, this place has got to cost a fortune. It’s in a prime location. Shouldn’t you try making chocolate first? Maybe take a class or spend some time working at Amore before you invest money?”

“This is why I didn’t want Mars here. He would try to spoil my brilliant idea, too.”

“Because this is insanity, Natasha!”

“Shh, here’s the Realtor. Don’t embarrass me.”

I greeted the real estate agent as he emerged from a back room. While they talked, I took a look around. It was a pity that the store had never opened. Arnaud must have signed a lease. How could they be renting it to someone else already?

I walked into a small office. On a shelf to the left were boxes that solved one mystery conclusively. They were identical to the boxes in which the mysterious chocolates had arrived at my house. I picked them up and examined them to be absolutely sure. They bore no company name or logo.

Nonni and Coco had recognized Arnie’s trademark chocolates when they tried them. Even Wolf took their word for it that the chocolates must have come from Arnie. And now it seemed they were all correct. But why did Arnie send
me
chocolates? And why use unmarked boxes when the Célébration de Chocolat logo on an elegant cream background was on everything else?

I ambled behind the desk and glanced through the Day-Timer. Someone had been using it for a while.
Opening day
was marked in huge letters. Someone had made a notation on Saturday that said
Amore Tasting.
Near the blotter lay an invitation to the tasting. The wording was exactly right. I had written it, so I knew what it had said. There was one problem, though. The paper was wrong. I gently lifted a corner and ran my finger under it. I’d had them printed with the Amore logo embossed at the top and a raised edge around the side. This one appeared to be ordinary cardstock run through a printer.

Dear Sophie,

My boyfriend’s dog always drools when we eat something chocolate. I know chocolate is bad for dogs, but haven’t I seen chocolate dog treats somewhere? Do they use artificial flavoring or something?

—Still Just the Girlfriend in Dogs Corners, New Jersey

Dear Still Just the Girlfriend,

You are absolutely right. Chocolate can kill a dog. However, dogs can eat carob. It comes from the pod of a tree. The flavor is not as strong as chocolate but it’s an excellent substitute.

—Sophie

Someone had made up an invitation and sent it to Arnaud. Why would anyone do that? No wonder he showed up. He wasn’t crashing the party. He thought he had been invited.

A chill enveloped me. Someone wanted to see him. Someone intended to kill him.

I had to tell Wolf. Using a pen, I flipped the invitation over. On the back, three tiny telltale ink smears had been left by the printer. None of the real invitations bore that kind of amateurish mark. I scooted the invitation under the blotter so no one would touch it or throw it out before I could tell Wolf about it. Maybe he could find fingerprints on it.

I hurried out to the front of the store, where Natasha engaged the Realtor with her crazy plan.

“Excuse me, but didn’t Arnaud or the Célébration de Chocolat company sign a lease?”

The real estate agent smiled. “Yes. But given the circumstances, the owner of the building is lining up a replacement tenant. You understand. Just in case Célébration de Chocolat doesn’t have the resources to pay the rent. They would probably appreciate being off the hook if they don’t intend to keep the store.”

Too bad. I was hoping to find a reason to discourage Natasha. I made up a lie to prevent her from taking any more steps toward committing herself to renting the place. “Mars called. He’s asking for you. He’s having some kind of emergency.”

Natasha apologized to the real estate agent but promised to swing by his office as soon as he had drafted the lease.
What a nightmare!

We walked home together as the midday heat started to bear down on Old Town.

“Sophie,” said Natasha, “do you know what my greatest fear is?”

“Food? Calories?” I joked.

“No, I have that under control.
You
might be wise to fear them, though.”

“Thank you. That makes me feel much better.”

“I’m only telling you for your own good, honey.”

I gritted my teeth. “So what’s your greatest fear?”

“Not being successful. I’m not getting any younger, and I still haven’t achieved my dreams.”

“Natasha, you have a popular TV show. Your fans adore you. I’ve seen them fawn over you.”

“They’re wonderful to me. It’s true that I have fans. But I wanted to be the Martha of the South. I don’t have a magazine. I don’t have any products for sale. I don’t even have cookbooks. And my show is just local. Go out of town and no one has ever heard of me.”

“Sure they have. They read your column.”

“Then why do I feel like such a failure? All I do is spin my wheels. I never make any progress. I don’t know how to move forward.”

“And you think having a chocolate shop is the key?” A brilliant thought came to me. “Martha doesn’t have a chocolate shop.”

Natasha stopped dead. “She doesn’t! That would set me apart from the rest. Good point, Sophie.”

I couldn’t believe that backfired on me.

“Goodness!” cried Natasha. “No wonder Mars needed me. What’s going on?”

I shifted my focus to the street. We were still a good distance away from our block, but there was no mistaking a commotion in front of my house. I took off at a run, leaving Natasha behind in her five-inch heels.

A little crowd of neighbors had gathered before my home. The gate to the backyard hung open. I recognized an unmarked police car, probably Wolf’s. But parked right in front of it was a white car ominously marked
Police
.

I was out of breath but fear propelled me forward. I staggered up the few steps to my kitchen door and flung it open.

Mars stood in the kitchen, leaning on crutches. Daisy rushed to me, wagging her tail.

I was so out of breath that I bent to breathe and hug Daisy at the same time.

Wolf stepped out of my family room and pulled me into
a hug. He pressed me to him, his chin nuzzled my ear, and he whispered, “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.”

He released me so fast that I nearly lost my balance.

The door opened behind me. A man built like a brick wall stepped inside. His head was shaven and a lush mustache hung over his top lip. “Sophie Winston? I’m glad you decided to come back.”

Come back? I lived here. “Who are you?”

“Sophie, this is Sergeant Wolchik. He’s a new investigator.”

I held out my hand to him. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Wolchik ignored it. “I’d like to speak with you privately.”

I looked around. There was no one else in the kitchen besides Daisy, Mochie, Mars, and Wolf. “That’s not necessary. What’s going on?”

“Have a seat please, ma’am.”

My breath was coming more naturally again but my heart pounded. I sat down on one of the chairs next to the fireplace.

Wolchik crossed his arms over his chest and stood too close to me, with his feet apart. A menacing stance if ever I saw one.

Daisy, the most easygoing dog in the world, pulled her long lips up to show her teeth and growled at him.

Mars sat down in the chair nearest me and called her over to him.

“Nice house for a single woman,” said Wolchik.

The words could have been complimentary, but I understood them as questioning my possession of a big place. I looked over at Wolf, who shrugged. I didn’t dignify the veiled suspicion with a response. “What do you want, Sergeant Wolchik?”

“Where were you yesterday?”

“What? Why do you care? Am I some kind of suspect?”

Wolf settled on the banquette, behind Wolchik. Wolf rotated his hand in a gesture I took to mean
just play along and answer him
.

“Okay. I went to the hotel to check on the Amore guests. Then I stopped by the Amore offices, came home—”

“Stop right there. Who, if anyone, did you see at Amore?”

If anyone?
Did he think he was a prosecutor in a trial? “The receptionist, that new guy, Vince, and Marla, Joe’s assistant.”

“What did you want with Marla?”

I hesitated to admit that I hoped she would know the story behind Kara’s estrangement from her family. “Nothing. Mitch had suggested that I stop by Joe’s office to have a look around.”

“Why?”

“He’s worried about Joe.”

“And he thought you would find something the police, who are trained, would overlook?”

I played his game. “I can’t tell you what
Mitch
thought.”

His face grew darker and grim. “Don’t get sassy with me. You’re in a lot of trouble. I suggest you answer respectfully.”

I didn’t dare look straight at Wolf lest this creep toss him from the room. But out of the corner of my eye, I could see Wolf getting miffed, something that rarely showed on his face.

“When is the last time you saw Marla Eldridge?”

“When I left the building. She walked out with me. Said she was going to get some lunch.” If he had been nicer to me, I would have told him that she drove away, but he was such a pill that I did not want to cooperate. Besides, I could tell Wolf after this annoying cop was gone.

“Why are you asking about Marla?” I sucked in air. “Oh no! Is she dead, too?”

“Aha! Why would you think that?”

“There
have
been a couple of murders.”

“Where did you go after that?”

I was slowly putting things together. “First Joe, then Randy. And now Marla?”

“Where did you go after that?” he shouted.

“Home.” I spoke very quietly to calm him down. “I came home.”

“We’d like to see your car. Do you have any objection to that?”

“My car? Whatever for?”

It finally dawned on me that he thought I had Marla in my car. “I walked. I haven’t been in the car for days. You can ask Mars. He was here.” I didn’t mention that he was in the family room, which didn’t have a window that looked out on the detached garage.

“Did you murder Randy Hicks?”

“What?” I jumped out of my seat just in time to see Alex open the kitchen door and walk in. “What are you doing here?”

“I called him,” said Mars. In response to my angry glare, he added, “I thought we might need him.”

Right in front of everyone, Wolchik stepped into my face. He was a good foot and a half taller than me, and his complexion had gone fury red. “Look, we know you murdered Randy Hicks. We’ve got your prints on your box of poisoned chocolates. Wolf can’t save you this time, and neither can a slick-talking lawyer. I’m going to ask you one more time, did you murder Randy Hicks?”

I stepped back intending to look him in the eye, but I fell into the chair, not exactly the impression I wanted to give. “Poisoned chocolates? I have never murdered anyone. Ever!”

“Then explain your fingerprints. Explain the poison we found in your backyard.”

Alex stepped up to him. I wouldn’t have called Alex puny, but Wolchik had a good six inches and sixty pounds on him. “Let’s see the search warrant.”

I caught the hint of a smirk on Wolf’s face.

Wolchik stormed out of my kitchen.

“Quick,” said Alex. “Give me a dollar.”

Mars pulled a buck out of his pocket and handed it to me.

“What’s this for?”

“Hire me before Godzilla comes back,” Alex whispered.

“I don’t need to hire anyone. I didn’t do anything.”

Wolf groaned. “For pity’s sake, Sophie. Just do it.”

I snatched the dollar from Mars and handed it to Alex, who said, “Thank you, ma’am, you’ve just hired yourself a lawyer.”

I flicked a hand at him. “I don’t care about that.” I walked over to Wolf. “What’s going on? Is it because my fingerprints are in Randy’s house?”

The kitchen door opened, and Natasha strolled in. “I’ve been talking to those nice policemen. Sophie, I think we should serve them some refreshments.”