She gritted her teeth in annoyance. “Mr. Big City Detective will probably say that I planted the rock to get myself off the hook. He makes me sick.”
“Gabs, calm down.”
She went on. “And if he goes to the Rigottas’, I wouldn’t put it past Preston to say we harassed his wife at the television station.”
“If Preston’s smart, he’ll keep his mouth shut. He’s a suspect as well. I wish somehow we could get him to submit to a blood test.” My mind was spinning like a hamster wheel. “Do you think Willow would talk to us? If we could get her alone, I mean.”
“I doubt it,” Gabby said. “They’ve got her trained like a dog. It’s always yes, Daddy; no, Mommy. Whatever you say. Jeez, can you imagine living like that?” Her face twisted into a frown. “She’s totally devoted to both of them.”
“Willow could have killed Daphne to save her parents’ marriage,” I said, thinking out loud. “She might have known about the baby and wanted to stop Daphne from making trouble.”
“And then we have Lorenzo, who has a history of making trouble,” Gabby said. “If he knew Daphne was cheating on him, he may have plotted to kill her. Maybe he lied to us and did know about the baby. That could have pushed him over the edge. Lorenzo might have brought over cannoli from his mother’s bakery and put the shrimp powder inside. He knew about Daphne’s allergy.”
I pulled my car into the near empty parking lot adjacent to a small gray brick building. A square metal sign on the side read Gourmet Goodies. Est. 2005. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find out anything about the chocolate that will help.”
A delicious variety of spicy smells drifted toward us when we opened the emporium door. There were aisles of exotic seasonings, coffees from different countries, and a small delicatessen case in the back.
A man in his early twenties was behind the counter. He looked up and smiled at us. “Help you with something?”
“Yes, I’m looking for a certain type of baking chocolate,” I said. “It’s called Valrhona. Do you know where I’d find it?”
His forehead creased in concentration. “Never heard of it, but then again, I’ve only been working here a few weeks.” He waved down a woman with shoulder-length gray hair who had emerged from a nearby door that read Office. “Penelope, can you help these ladies find Valrhona chocolate?”
Penelope beamed at us. “Of course. Right this way.” She led us down aisle five and pointed at the bottom shelf. There were five bars of the chocolate in a display box.
I gulped when I saw the price—forty dollars apiece. It was more than I’d remembered. “Thank you. Do you sell a lot of this?”
“Don’t I wish.” Penelope leaned down to examine the packages. “Oh, my. Looks like we did sell one. I had six in stock last time I checked. It must have been last week when I had my root canal, because I would have remembered that sale.”
Gabby and I exchanged a glance. “This is going to sound strange,” I said, “but is there any way you can track down who bought it?”
Suspicion clouded Penelope’s eyes. “What’s this all about? Don’t you want to purchase the chocolate?”
“Of course.” No, I wasn’t interested in purchasing the chocolate, but it looked like I didn’t have much choice. I supposed I could use it in the restaurant. As my grandmother used to say, there was no great loss without some small gain. A very small one. “You see, I’m in an upcoming baking competition,” I lied.
“She owns a restaurant,” Gabby said with an unmistakable note of pride in her voice.
The woman scanned me up and down. “Well, that’s nice, but what does it have to do with tracking down who bought the chocolate?”
I looked around the store and crooked my finger, indicating for Penelope to come closer. “We were all given specific ingredients to use, and mine was Valrhona chocolate. I don’t trust my competition, though. I think they’re planning to use it, too. Since your store is the closest, I thought I’d try to learn if the other contestants have already been here.”
“They may have purchased it online,” Penelope pointed out.
Shoot. I hadn’t even thought about that. Why did she have to throw a wrench in my plans? “Sure, that’s possible,” I said smoothly, “but all of the contestants’ mail is being tracked.” Where the heck did I get such a stupid idea? There was no way she’d fall for this bull.
Penelope studied me for a long moment. “I’ve heard some of those contestant rules can be pretty brutal. What’s the contest?”
“The Harvest Park Bake-Off,” Gabby replied before I could stop her.
Penelope cocked her head to one side. “I’ve never heard of that competition. Is it new?”
There was a bake-off held during Harvest Park’s annual Apple Festival in the fall, but I didn’t want to give this woman too many details. What if whoever had bought the chocolate came in again, and she mentioned us to them? “I only need to find out who bought the chocolate. I believe there should be complete honesty in competitions. It’s always the best policy, right?” What a joke after the lies I’d been telling lately.
My heart sank as Penelope shook her head. “I wasn’t here when it was purchased, so I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
It was time to pull out the big guns. I picked up the display box with the chocolate and smiled pleasantly. “But you could check your computer system to see if you have the person’s name on file, right? Or maybe a credit card slip? I’d be so grateful and more than happy to buy all the chocolate, for your trouble.”
“This way no one else will have a chance to cheat again,” Gabby added.
Dollar signs appeared in Penelope’s eyes. “Well, I don’t normally do this, but okay. It may take me a little while to find the transaction, since I can’t be positive it was bought the day I was out. If they paid with cash you’re out of luck, I’m afraid.”
I was also out two hundred dollars but refrained from saying so. The three of us proceeded to the register where Penelope herself rang us out. Gabby handed me a fifty. “It’s all I have, Tess.”
“No worries.” I pushed the bill back at her. “I’ll use it in the restaurant.”
“What will you make with the chocolate? Can you share any details of your recipe for the contest?” Penelope asked with interest as I wrote my first name only and cell phone number on a piece of paper. I thought about giving her a business card but wasn’t sure that was wise.
Gabby looked horrified at the suggestion. “But she can’t. It’s top secret. She didn’t even tell me and I’m her best friend.”
“I can’t take a chance on being disqualified,” I murmured.
“Oh, yes. Of course.” Penelope took the paper from me. “Do keep in mind that the chocolate is wonderful for many baking dishes, especially cannoli. It brings out the flavor of the mascarpone filling.”
“Really?” I tried to act surprised. “Thanks for the tip.”
Penelope handed me my receipt. “I’ll try to call you this afternoon, with the name only. No other information will be included.”
“That’s all I need. Thank you.”
Penelope’s cell phone buzzed, and we took the opportunity to exit the store. Gabby glanced meekly at me as we got into my car. “Tess, I’m sorry. You’re trying to help me and all it’s doing is costing you money.”
“I already told you, it’s fine. I’ll use these at the restaurant.”
“What now?” she asked. “Do you have some free time before you go back to the restaurant?”
I didn’t, but Gabby’s face looked so hopeful that I couldn’t bear to squash whatever she had in mind. “A little. My staff is coming in this afternoon for a quick meeting, and a repairman to fix the sign. I may make more sauce, too.”
She winked. “What are you stressed about now?”
I laughed. My tomato sauce was a running joke between those who knew me best. It
had a calming effect on me and was therapeutic in some ways. After Dylan’s death, I’d filled so many ziplock bags full of it that I’d contemplated buying a second freezer. No, I didn’t need more sauce, but I did want to think about the entire Daphne puzzle. Something was missing. “What did you have in mind?”
She was scrolling through Facebook on her phone. “I was right. Today’s the day. Preston has a book signing in Buffalo. That’s four hours away.”
I immediately understood. “Are you suggesting we go to Preston’s house and snoop through his kitchen to find the chocolate?”
Gabby grinned wickedly. “Why, Tess, I thought you’d never ask.”
Thirteen
“What about Willow?” I asked. “And Sylvia?”
Gabby checked her watch. “It’s not even noon yet, so we don’t have to worry about them. Sylvia’s still at the television station and Willow will be with Preston. He doesn’t have a publicist anymore, remember, so she’ll accompany him to the signing.”
I exited off the Thruway and in the direction of Saratoga. “How are we going to do this if no one is home? Are you suggesting we break in?”
She gave a little excited giggle. “This is going to be such fun. And no, the housekeeper will let us in. She should remember me. I know where the kitchens are because Preston gave me a tour of the house.”
“Kitchens? They have more than one?”
She nodded. “Willow has her own private quarters upstairs. It’s like one of those mother-in-law apartment setups.”
“Is she in college?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not anymore. Willow has an associate degree in web design and, like I told you, takes care of his website but I’m guessing she has no choice in the matter. I’ve heard that she’s very sheltered, especially since she’s an only child.”
“I’m an only child, and I wasn’t sheltered,” I reminded her.
“You don’t count,” Gabby said. “In Italian families, it doesn’t matter whether there’s one kid or ten. Everyone gets suffocated equally.”
She had a point. “I wish we could get Willow alone to see what she has to say.”
Gabby sighed. “She strikes me as one of those who aren’t supposed to speak unless spoken to types. She’s devoted to her parents. You saw her and Sylvia at the signing. They were thick as thieves.”
“Well, it’s worth a shot. Let’s get this over with. Where do they live?”
Gabby bounced in her seat. “Awesome! Stay on the Northway until you hit Exit 15.”
I glanced at the clock but said nothing. If our visit was brief, I could drop Gabby off and make it to the restaurant just in time for my staff meeting. My phone buzzed, and I pressed the Bluetooth on the steering wheel. “Hello?”
“Hello, Tessa? This is Stephanie Beaudry. Sorry it’s taken me so long to call you back. My daughter had to get stitches last night. She fell at the playground.”
“Oh, no. Is she okay?”
“Zoe’s fine,” Stephanie replied. “Five stitches in her forehead and she just missed hitting her eye. Kids. They always keep you moving. What did you want to talk to me about?”
Call it intuition, but I was confident this was going to work out perfectly for the both of us. “I’d like to offer you a position at Anything’s Pastable as my assistant.”
She gasped. “Oh, my God! Thank you so much. I promise that I won’t let you down. When would you like me to start?”
Exit 15 was approaching. “The restaurant opens Saturday. I know it’s short notice, so if you need to give Greg another week or two, I understand.” I’d have to find a way to manage on opening night without her. Maybe Gabby would still be willing to help.
“No, he’ll be fine with it,” said Stephanie. “Trust me, there’s other employees who are dying to get their hands on my hours.”
“Wonderful. Is there any chance you could come in for a quick meeting this afternoon? The rest of my staff will be there, and it would give you all a chance to get acquainted.”
“No problem. Zoe can stay with my neighbor.” Stephanie giggled and sounded like a little kid herself. “I am so excited, Tessa. I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’ll see you at two o’clock.” I disconnected and might have done a happy dance if I hadn’t been driving. “My staff is all in place now,” I told Gabby, “except for maybe one more part-time waitress or waiter.”
Gabby clapped her hands. “You rock, girl. Take a left here on to McChesney Avenue. This is their street.”
I glanced around the neighborhood in awe. Saratoga, whose name derived from a Native American word, was a historical town filled with lovely attractions. The most popular was their famous racetrack, which operated during the summer. There were several wealthy homes located in the town that belonged to local celebrities.
“It’s the second mansion on the right,” Gabby said.
I turned into a private driveway covered with crushed marble. My jaw dropped as I stared up at the impressive Victorian mansion. It appeared to be from the nineteenth century, but was incredibly well preserved. The lawn had been manicured to perfection and was dotted with rose and azalea bushes. A large, bronze bust of Preston stared ominously at us from beside a stone water fountain. The bust was magnificent and garish at the same time. Intricate carved stone surrounded the exterior of the mansion, and colored panes of stained glass decorated every window.
“This is gorgeous.”
“It’s stunning on the inside, too,” Gabby remarked, “but a bit more modern. When the Rigottas bought the place about twenty years ago, they chose not to change much of the exterior. The house is almost too nice to live in.”
“Didn’t I hear somewhere that he had old family money?” I asked as we climbed the steps of the large wraparound porch.
Gabby wrapped the brass knocker against the mahogany door. “He inherited a good sum from his parents, but Preston’s made his own pile of cash, too. He’s had ten best-selling books, and a few even went to number one.”
I couldn’t help but wonder how many New York Times bestselling authors might be suspected of murdering their publicist whom they also happened to be having an affair with. Chances were, not many. Did Preston lure Daphne back to the bookstore that night? If he knew she was pregnant with his child, he would have been outraged and most likely wanted her out of the way.
A petite woman in her forties wearing a black uniform dress and tights opened the door and gave us both a polite smile. Her nametag identified her at Marta. “May I help you?”
I cleared my throat. “Hi, we were wondering if we could speak to Sylvia, please?”
Marta’s smile faded as she glanced from me to Gabby. She had short, dark hair styled in a bob, with hazel eyes that poked out from beneath long, dark lashes. Her bronze skin and an accent similar to Carlita’s suggested she was of Spanish descent. Her face seemed familiar, and I assumed she might have been a customer when I worked at Magnifico’s Restaurant, a ten-minute drive from Saratoga.
“I’m so sorry,” Marta said. “She is not at home right now. Was she expecting you?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “We’re friends of hers. Do you think we could wait?”
The woman started to shake her head and then looked more closely at Gabby. “You have been here before.”
“Yes, to see Preston,” Gabby explained. “He’s a friend, too.”
Marta pursed her lips together. “Well, I guess it will be all right then. You can wait in the library.” She opened the door and allowed us into the foyer. “This way.”
We silently followed Marta by the mahogany staircase and down a long, sterile hallway, past a gleaming kitchen that I longed to explore. Marta stopped in front of a room with a stone fireplace that occupied an entire wall. Across from it were several wingback chairs and a cherrywood coffee table. Other walls contained built-in shelves with a vast range of
books and genres. Several of them were vintage and probably worth money. Photographs of Preston’s novels and the various awards he’d won dominated the paneled walls.
“Wait here,” she commanded, and disappeared before we could thank her. A minute later the sound of a vacuum commenced above us.
Gabby made a big deal out of tiptoeing over to the doorway. “I’m going to sneak up the back staircase. Do you want to tackle the kitchen down here, Nancy?”
“This isn’t a joke. What if Marta sees you up there?”
She grinned. “I’ll tell her I got lost.”
“Don’t take too long and don’t snoop in any other places. This is risky. Just check Willow’s kitchen for the chocolate. What if some of the other staff is around? We can’t get caught.”
“Yes, Miss Drew,” Gabby teased. “Good luck.” She blew me a dramatic kiss and then peered out into the hallway. In her best sleuthing style, she moved lightly on the terrazzo flooring, leaving me to do my own exploring.
After Gabby disappeared, I checked the hallway for any signs of life. I was grateful I’d worn sneakers and hurried toward the kitchen. It was a cook’s dream with an enormous center island, stainless-steel appliances, a double-wall oven, and built-in cabinets that wrapped around the entire room. I started to open cupboards but found only dishes, glassware, and pots and pans. Where were all the ingredients?
A door on the left led to a patio, which had an in-ground pool and Jacuzzi. Preston had certainly done well for himself. A closed door next to the fridge caught my attention. I opened it and found a walk-in pantry.
“What I wouldn’t give for a room like this,” I whispered to no one in particular as I hurriedly scanned the shelves. With satisfaction, I noticed several boxes of cake mixes. Sylvia was no Betty Crocker, that was for sure. I wished I’d taken more time to talk to Marta about Sylvia’s so-called cooking skills. For some reason, I suspected Marta might be the real success behind Spice it Up with Sylvia.
A shiny red-and-black foil package was sticking out behind a store-bought box of yellow cake mix. Pay dirt. It was a package of Valrhona chocolate with only half of the baking squares left. I snapped a quick picture of it with my phone.
It Cannoli Be Murder Page 14
