He glanced from me to Gabby and then said, “I know you two from somewhere.”
“Mr. Daniels?” I asked and he nodded. “My name is Tessa, and this is my cousin Gabby. We went to school with Daphne.”
Recognition dawned in his weary eyes. “Would you like to come in?” he asked. He held the door open wide and Gabby entered first, with me bringing up the rear.
We followed him down a narrow hallway, the once white walls now a yellowish color. Smells of cabbage and cigarette smoke permeated the small home, and the stale air made me wonder if he ever opened the windows.
There was a small television set up on a wooden entertainment stand, a plaid couch, and two folding chairs in the room. Wayne sat in one of them and gestured to the couch. “Please make yourselves comfortable. Can I get you something to drink? I just made a pot of coffee.”
We both shook our heads. “No, thank you,” I said.
“We’re very sorry about Daphne,” Gabby put in.
A shadow passed over his face. “Thank you. I appreciate you both stopping by. It’s always nice to meet some of Daphne’s friends. I knew you two looked familiar.”
He must not have remembered Gabby from the bookstore, which was a good thing. An awkward silence followed. What purpose would it serve to tell the grieving man the truth—that Gabby couldn’t stand his bullying hateful daughter, and I’d never been a fan of hers either? Why rub salt in his open wounds?
Wayne was slender to the point of being gaunt, his face a milky shade of white underneath a beard tinged with gray. I surmised that he was in his late fifties, but he looked much older.
I decided to get right to the point. “We were wondering if the police had any leads about her death.”
He shook his head. “They haven’t shared much information with me. But it had something to do with that guy she worked for. I’m convinced of it.”
Gabby and I said nothing and waited for him to continue.
Wayne hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward in the chair, propping his elbows on his knees. “Since you’re both friends of hers, did she ever talk to you about her infatuation with that author?”
“I don’t remember her saying anything to me.” Boy, was that the truth. “How about you?” I turned to my cousin.
Gabby shook her head. “Not a word. When was the last time you saw her?”
He stared off into the distance. “Daphne came by a couple of times every week, just like clockwork. She was a good girl.”
“She was?” Gabby blurted out. Irritated, I elbowed her in the side. “Ouch! I mean, oh, yes, of course she was.”
A sad smile formed on his lips. “I know that some people thought she was self-centered, but my princess was always good to her old man. She even hired a nurse to come in every day to look after me.”
I blinked. That had to have cost Daphne a small fortune, and the gesture made my heart soften toward her. A person who made sure that their parents were well taken care of couldn’t be completely bad. Whatever the case, she certainly didn’t deserve to be murdered.
Wayne’s eyes were focused on me intently. “Look, I’m not stupid. My daughter could be mean and selfish to other people. She made some enemies. I told that cocky detective who came by the other day that I think her hunger for money is what got her killed.” His nostrils flared. “That guy was asking me questions like I was the one responsible for her death. Can you believe that crap?”
Gabby and I exchanged glances. Paddy would probably suspect his own mother if the situation called for it.
“But I have to admit, the detective was on the right track. I am partially responsible. Daphne didn’t want me to have to go into a nursing home. She took the first high paying job she was offered from that—author.” He spoke the word like it was diseased.
My curiosity was piqued. “You don’t like Preston Rigotta?”
Wayne looked at me like I had two heads. “What’s there to like about him? The guy was a pretentious snob. My daughter was always doing his bidding, even personal errands. She was supposed to have been hired as a publicist, not his maid. And I suspect that he was taking advantage of my little girl, if you get my drift.”
Oh, I got his drift all right. Suddenly uncomfortable, I tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “How did she get the job with Mr. Rigotta?”
“Daphne was formerly an office manager for a small publishing company in the Lake George area,” Wayne explained. “She heard from someone that a local author was looking for his own personal publicist.”
I’d been under the impression that Daphne had worked as a publicist before landing the job with Preston. Perhaps Sylvia had been speaking the truth when she said Daphne had lied about her experience.
“She had a degree in marketing, so she met with Rigotta and he hired her on the spot.” He reached in his shirt pocket for a cigarette and lit it. “I’m betting Daphne’s looks, not her experience, are what got her the job. She was a true beauty.”
“The police told you she was pregnant?” Gabby asked.
Her words made me wince inwardly. Some days my cousin needed to be a bit more tactful with her questioning.
Wayne stared at her in amazement. “Yeah, the coroner said so, but Daphne had already told me. How did you find out? I thought that was private information.”
“Um, Daphne told us,” Gabby blurted out.
“She did?” He seemed surprised. “She said that she hadn’t share the news publicly.”
Oh great. We were getting in deeper and deeper.
“We forced it out of her,” Gabby said, and I had a sudden urge to pinch her.
“They didn’t tell me who the father was, but I’m betting dollars to doughnuts on that pompous jerk Rigotta.” Wayne’s mouth suddenly quivered at the corners, as if he had a secret. “But he didn’t know who he was up against. Daphne had her own plan in the works. My little girl was a smart cookie.”
My heart gave a little jolt. “What did she have in mind?”
He removed his wallet out of his back pants pocket and produced a small folded piece of paper, then handed it to me. “I didn’t know all the details. Daphne stopped by last week. I wasn’t expecting her and was at a neighbor’s house for dinner, so she left me this note.”
I read the words that had been written in her fine cursive handwriting. “Sorry I missed you. Our money problems will be over soon. He’ll see it my way, trust me. Love, D.”
I flipped the piece of paper over and saw that Daphne had written what looked like a reminder note. “Dr. Reynolds. Next Checkup, Tuesday, May 24th.”
My heart pounded rapidly. Was this the name of Daphne’s doctor? Maybe her obstetrician? Was there something Dr. Reynolds could tell us that we didn’t already know, and might help us learn who had killed Daphne? It might be worthwhile to pay her a visit.
What was even more interesting than Daphne’s note was the heading on the piece of paper. The cream-colored stationery had an S and R intertwined in raised gold letters at the top of the page, exactly like the one wrapped around the rock that came through Gabby’s window. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. If Daphne had access to Sylvia’s stationery, who else did?
“What do you think Daphne meant by that sentence? ‘He’ll see it my way’?”
Wayne drew deeply on the cigarette. “I’m guessing my daughter planned to tell that creep she was carrying his child, and that they’d have to pay her to go away. That snob wife of his hated Daphne. Pure jealousy, I tell you.” He shook his head in disgust. “Daphne got in over her head. I warned her. That entire family was awful to my girl, especially Sylvia and that spoiled rotten daughter of theirs.” He gritted his teeth in irritation. “Winnie, right?”
“Willow,” I corrected.
“Yeah, that’s it. Do you know what that brat told Daphne a few weeks ago?” His face turned red, and I wor
ried he might make himself ill. “She accused Daphne of trying to cut her out of her father’s business. Told her to stop interfering with the website and making dumb suggestions to her father. She also knew that Daphne was pregnant.”
“But how?” Gabby asked in amazement. “You said that Daphne hadn’t shared the information—well, with anyone besides us.”
A determined gleam came into his eyes. “I don’t know how that little snob found out, but I will tell you this. Willow told my daughter that if she tried to push that baby off as her father’s, it would be the last thing she ever did.”
Nineteen
“This is risky,” I said to Gabby as we drove toward the Rigotta mansion. “And if Gino finds out, he might shoot us both.”
After we’d left Wayne’s house yesterday, we’d traveled to the Rigottas’, but Sylvia’s BMW had been parked in the driveway. This morning we’d called the television station ahead of time, pretending we had a floral delivery for her, and been told by Liz that she was still taping her show.
Gabby laughed. “Nah, we’re family. He can’t shoot us. This is the perfect opportunity to catch Marta alone. According to Preston’s website, he’s at Okay Talk Radio for an interview this morning so we don’t have to worry about running into him.”
I shuddered inwardly, remembering how he’d grabbed me the other night. “That man is vile. I’d be happy to never lay eyes on him again.”
“After what he did to you, I don’t blame you. And he’s obviously hiding something. Preston doesn’t want anyone to learn he and Daphne were involved. Sylvia hated Daphne because of the affair with her husband and wanted to get rid of her. Sylvia must have known about the baby, too.”
“We have plenty of suspects,” I said. “What we need is the killer.”
“And we can’t forget about Lorenzo either,” Gabby pointed out. “Every one of them was present for the book signing, at some point. They all could have easily spotted my key ring lying around and removed the bookstore one.”
I pointed at the Rigotta mansion as we approached. “No, I don’t think Lorenzo killed her. My theory is that the killer lives here. Marta bought the chocolate for the cannoli that killed Daphne, which Sylvia planned to pass off as her own. My car was defaced. Sylvia followed me and might have thrown a rock through your window. Plus, Preston assaulted me and warned us to back off. By the way, Gino texted earlier that Preston told Paddy he never even touched me—I made the whole thing up.” Rage simmered inside me whenever I allowed myself to think about it.
“Big surprise there,” Gabby remarked as she parked the car across the street from their home and locked it. “What should we say to Marta?” She asked as we dodged raindrops that had just begun to fall.
“We’ll talk about cooking,” I said smoothly. “We need to get her to mention the cannoli and see where it leads. She might tell us something that will help.” My attention was distracted by the envelopes sticking out of the mail slot next to the front door. I took a step in that direction when the front door opened.
Marta stood there, one hand on the doorknob, her face etched with suspicion. I gave a little wave. “Hi, Marta. Remember us?”
Marta started to shut the door, but I stuck my foot in the way. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. Gabby only wants a minute of Mr. Rigotta’s time—to talk to him about another book order she’s placing.”
“He is not at home,” she replied firmly.
“But he’ll be back any minute, right? He’s expecting me,” Gabby lied. “Can we at least wait in the foyer? I mean, it is raining out.”
Uncertainty registered in Marta’s hazel eyes. “I’m not sure. Perhaps I should call him first to check.”
“Oh, please do,” I said and then immediately regretted my statement. If she told Preston we were here, he’d become enraged and would call the police. Paddy would be more than happy to provide handcuffs.
To my surprise, Marta merely shrugged, stood back, and allowed us to enter. She grabbed the mail out of the slot and set it on the small receiving table inside the front door.
Gabby gave her an apologetic grin. “May I use the bathroom, please?”
Marta narrowed her eyes and then crooked a finger at Gabby. “This way.” She turned to look back at me. “You stay there, please. No more wandering around the house like last time.”
Score one for Gabby. I was certain she’d seen me glance toward the mail and knew what I had in mind. Once they were out of sight, I grabbed the phone bill that was lying on the receiving table and slipped it under my shirt. Underneath it was an envelope addressed to Sylvia, with Dr. Reynolds’s name in the upper left-hand corner. My heart thumped furiously. What was she sending to Sylvia? Without stopping to think, I slipped that envelope under my shirt as well.
A two-tiered white cake was sitting on the mahogany dining-room table in the next room. Marta came hurrying back to the foyer followed by Gabby and frowned at me. “I told you not to go anywhere.”
Instead of answering, I pointed toward the cake. This was the opening I’d been looking for. “Did you make that, Marta?”
She nodded. “Yes, for Willow’s birthday.”
“It looks delicious. You do a lot of cooking and baking, don’t you?”
Marta gave me a look that told me she wished I’d shut up. “It’s part of my job.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m a big fan of Sylvia’s television show, especially her cooking. How I wish I could make cannoli like hers.”
Marta’s face relaxed at my words, and I figured I might be gaining some ground here. “Only a talented baker could make cannoli as rich as hers. I’d love to know what her secret ingredient is.”
“Mascarpone,” Marta replied, and then her face colored. “The homemade version, not what you buy in the store. And the chocolate—there is a special kind you should use called Valrhona. You shave it and then add to the filling. The texture is much richer, but it’s very expensive.”
“Thanks for the tip. Sylvia was going to bring cannoli to the book signing but she forgot them,” I said, before deciding to cut to the chase. “You made them, didn’t you?”
Marta pressed her lips together stubbornly. “That is none of your business.”
“She’s very lucky to have you,” I commented. “Sylvia told us how you’ve made desserts for her show when she’s been in a pinch.”
“She did?” Marta stared at me, puzzled.
“Of course,” Gabby smiled sweetly. “Sylvia said she didn’t know what she’d do without you.”
Okay, I was worried that Gabby might have gone too far, but Marta’s face flushed with pleasure.
“Do you have any cannoli left? I’d love to sample one,” I said.
“No, they went fast.” Marta smiled proudly. “When I got up the morning after the signing, there were only a few left. Sylvia takes them to the television station sometimes.”
A deep, masculine and familiar voice rang out from above. “What are those two troublemakers doing in here, Marta?”
I looked up the staircase and saw Preston’s venomous eyes focused on me. There was no remorse in them from the way he’d treated me the other night, but I hadn’t expected any. I squared my shoulders and stared back in anger, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking away.
“Preston,” Marta’s face paled. “I didn’t know you were home yet.”
“That’s obvious,” he retorted and started down the stairs. “I came in through the rear entry. Marta, I thought I told you to keep these women out of my home. Escort them both to the door now. They think they’re holding an inquisition, and I’ll have no part of it.”
Marta looked crestfallen at his words. “Of course. I am so sorry.”
“We followed her in,” I said quickly. “She didn’t invite us.” There was no reason Marta should have to take the rap for this, and I sincerely hoped Preston wouldn’t
fire her because of us.
Preston glared at me but pointed a finger at Marta. “Get my attorney on the phone. I’m filing a restraining order against these two. I’d better never see your faces here again. Now go. Go!”
Gabby took a step backward and bumped into me, pushing my body up against the door. I managed to turn around and fumbled with the doorknob. We couldn’t scramble out of the house fast enough and rushed down the driveway to her car. The rain was coming down harder and pelted our faces. Once we were inside the vehicle we wiped our faces with a towel Gabby had stored in the glove compartment.
“That went well,” Gabby remarked as she started the engine.
“Get ready for Gino’s lecture.” I pulled my seat belt around my wet sweater and turned the heat on.
“At least a two-hour one. It would have been worth it if we’d learned something valuable.”
“Daphne must have told Preston she was pregnant and Willow overheard and told her mother, or something like that. I’m betting the entire family knew. And what about that note Daphne left her father on Sylvia’s stationery? She was planning on getting a serious cash windfall from Preston. What are you doing?”
Gabby turned the car around in the Rigotta driveway, and I cringed when I saw a curtain move in the upstairs window.
“Someone’s watching us.” Gabby gulped. “Preston scared me, Tess. You must have been terrified when he forced his way into your house. I can’t believe how I once idolized that man.”
Gabby’s fangirling days were long over. As far as I was concerned, everyone in the Rigotta household was a potential suspect in Daphne’s death. Preston was violent and worried that the pregnancy would hurt his career. Sylvia was self-absorbed, hated Daphne for the affair, and worried she might get her hands on their money. And Willow? She just wanted to get away from her parents and had resented Daphne. They’d all had opportunity and motive to do the deed.
When she stopped for a red light, I pulled out both the phone bill and Sylvia’s envelope from the doctor’s office. “Let’s go back to my house and take a look at these gems.”
It Cannoli Be Murder Page 19
