Even my nerves felt like they had nerves.
Who knew what might happen tonight?
He smiled and put his hand on my leg, which only kicked my heart into overdrive. I still hadn’t tasted the chili, so I scooped a big spoonful into my mouth.
It was hot. Peppery hot. Fiery hot. Who in the world would make chili this hot? My face heated. And heated. I imagined I looked as red as a sunburned turnip. I chewed as daintily as humanly possible while pretending my mouth wasn’t being devoured by a flaming inferno. Sweat beaded on my brow.
Cal noticed. A blind man would have noticed my discomfort. He slid the glass of water closer to me.
“Got one of her peppers, I see,” he said, his hand still on my leg and my heart still beating as if it might burst free. “Don’t be a hero. Drink all your water and mine too, if you need to.”
I drank mine. And his. And three more glasses of water. And I still had to swallow several times before I could form words. “Didn’t taste the chocolate,” I managed to croak.
He laughed. “Not every bite is like that.”
I wasn’t sure if serving chili that tasted as hot as the sun was a joke the locals played on newbies like me or if he was telling the truth. He seemed to be enjoying his dish without sweating tears, so I cautiously took another, much smaller bite.
Hmmm . . . the flavors swirled around in my mouth. He was right; you didn’t taste the chocolate. Not really. It wasn’t a sweet dish. The flavors had a richness, both sharp and subtle at the same time, that made me dig in for another try. I kept a lookout for peppers.
“You know,” I said after devouring nearly half the bowl, “I’m not very good at investigating murders. I’ve questioned people and researched instead of sleeping. And what do I have? I’ve ended up suspecting nearly half the town. Like I thought your brother was guilty, but he didn’t do it. And then I wondered if either Bertie or Althea was behind the crimes. But that’s crazy.”
“Then it’s a good thing we had the police working on it,” he said after he swallowed another spoonful of the chili.
“It is. You know, my latest research had led me in two very different directions and to two suspects.”
“Really?” He leaned forward. “Who are your suspects?”
“Jody and, well . . . you, actually.” I gave a nervous laugh. He didn’t laugh with me.
“What do you mean, me?”
“Don’t get upset. I already told you I’m no good at detecting.” I took a long sip of water.
“I still don’t understand it. Why would you think I would want to kill anyone?”
I set down my spoon and looked at Cal—really looked at him. “You see, there was an article about a murdered reporter in West Africa. The poor man had been investigating human rights violations on a large chocolate plantation. This article about his murder kept coming back to me. I’m not sure why I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And then I remembered your family’s beach house. It was filled with artwork you’d brought back with you from your travels. Much of it was from Africa. With the demand for chocolate being what it is, I started to think that, for some unknown reason, you desperately needed to buy the rights to Mabel’s chocolate in order to sell it to some large corporation. Chocolate is a billion-dollar industry, after all. Stupid, I know. Like I said, I don’t have the instincts for finding anything. I once lost my keys in my apartment for two months. I’d torn through every nook and cranny, only to find them months later tucked in the very pocket of my purse where I always keep them. How crazy is that?”
He pushed his bowl aside. “One deal out of the hundreds I make every year wouldn’t make or break me. The rights to Mabel’s chocolate aren’t really something I need. I offered to sell the rights as a favor to you. But you’ve decided to keep the shop.”
“I have.” I pushed my bowl away as well.
He sat back in his chair and smiled at me. “And none of this matters. We already know the murderer’s identity. Derek killed your friend and his mother. Then he tried to kill you and me.”
“No, he didn’t.” I leaned toward him. “Derek didn’t kill anyone. At least he didn’t kill anyone that we know about.”
“Yes, he did. And he also robbed the shop.”
“Yes, he robbed the shop. And he also pushed me down the stairs. But he had an alibi for the night of Skinny’s murder. The police are still looking into Mabel’s murder, but Detective Gibbons told me yesterday morning he didn’t think Derek was guilty of either crime.”
“Oh, right. Of course he had an alibi,” Cal said slowly. “He was with me all night.”
“No, that’s not his alibi. He wasn’t with you.” I stood up and carried both bowls to the sink and started washing them. “Which means you also don’t have an alibi.”
“I don’t need an alibi. Why would I—? You think I would . . . for a . . . for a ridiculously small chocolate deal? The village doesn’t even grow enough of the Amar beans to fill the shop’s needs. Who would want to buy it?”
“You should know the answer better than I would. In fact, you told me just a few days ago that, in the right hands, the bean’s production could be expanded. I imagine it could easily become a must-have chocolate for the megarich. A luxury treat for those who could afford it. And the person who sells the rights to the beans might become superrich as well. That sounds like a motive, I think.”
He laughed. It was an ugly sound. “And you think I’d commit murder, that I’d kill an elderly woman, just so I could purchase the rights to her chocolate beans? Oh, my goodness, Penn. You weren’t lying. You are terrible at investigations.”
“Horrible, really.” I rinsed the soap off the bowls and set them on a dish towel beside the sink before adding, “But in my defense, some of the things you’ve been doing do look somewhat suspicious.”
He carried the water glasses to the sink. And then he stayed, standing so close I felt trapped between him and the counter. “Like what?”
To give myself some space, I twisted around and, after nudging him out of the way, hobbled toward the living room. “Now, don’t be mad. I’m simply telling you where my investigations have been taking me.” I drew a deep breath. “For example, that first chocolate class I took with Mabel had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. But all the rest were planned. And you attended those classes.”
“I like chocolate.” He joined me in the living room. He took both my hands and cradled them as if they were precious objects. His stunning green eyes sharpened. His voice deepened, turning all chocolatey smooth. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of interested in you.”
“So you say.” It took several tugs to pry my hands loose. “Did you know Mabel had lied to you? She hadn’t cancelled that last class. She didn’t want you there.” I moved away from him and managed to put the sofa between us. The door was behind me, so if I needed to escape, I could. “Why wouldn’t she want you there? Perhaps you came to the classes not because you liked me and not because you liked chocolate. You were there because you wanted to make sure Mabel didn’t tell me something.” I tapped my chin. “But what could she tell me? What didn’t you want Mabel to tell me? Was it something about the will?”
He took a step toward the sofa, and toward me, but thankfully didn’t come any closer. “I didn’t know about the will, remember?”
“Didn’t you? Unlike Mabel’s family, you didn’t seem at all surprised when your brother announced that I had inherited the shop and the Amar chocolate.”
“I wouldn’t say I wasn’t surprised. I simply didn’t care.”
“And you’d visited the village of Cabruca, a place that according to Mabel is horribly remote and difficult to get to. You visited it not just once but several times.”
“What can I say? I’m a nice guy. She enjoyed getting news from the village. So I made excuses to go there.”
“A nice guy with expensive taste in clothes. I didn’t think anything about it at first. My half sister is a fashion designer, and the first time I saw you,
I immediately thought you’d fit right in on one of her runways. It didn’t occur to me until today why that was. It’s because your clothes are all expensive designer name brands. Even the suit you have on right now, a Zegna suit, costs close to five thousand dollars.”
“So? I can afford it.”
“Perhaps. Derek had warned me that possessing a little fortune only made a person hungry for more. I had thought he was talking about himself. What if I was wrong? What if he was warning me about you?”
“Don’t be silly. Of course he was talking about himself. Derek was an idiot with money. He squandered the trust fund his parents had given him in less than a year. And then he would waste whatever money Mabel would give him. For someone with access to so much money, he was always broke.”
“Still, what he’d said to me had felt like a warning. I thought he was warning me against my own failings. But what if he’d been warning me to be wary of someone who might want to do me harm? Someone who lusted for money? You and your brother came from a modest background. You’re a self-made man. But now you have a chance to make more money than most people can imagine. But to do so, you’d have to control the rights to the Amar chocolate beans. Chocolate is an expensive commodity. It’s something people are even willing to kill for.”
“Not me. I’m a business broker, not a killer.” His voice tightened. “And even though I don’t need an alibi, I have one. Even if Derek wasn’t there, I was at the bar the night Skinny was killed. Apparently I was too drunk to even know Derek had left.”
“You could have easily left the bar at any time that night after Derek left. He was your alibi, but he wasn’t at the bar, not at the time of Skinny’s death. You could have left and come back, stumbling around like you’d had too much. You could have easily acted drunk even if you were sober. Heck, you could have left to drown Skinny in Mabel’s vat of chocolate, returned, and proceeded to slam down enough shots to prove to everyone how drunk you were.”
“Why would I do that? What possible reason would I have to kill him? It didn’t stop you from inheriting Mabel’s chocolate shop.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you killed him because he knew something, something that would make me want to keep the shop. He’d sounded excited on the phone. He’d told me to come to Camellia Beach.”
He took another step toward the sofa and me. “And yet his death didn’t change the outcome.”
“Didn’t it?” I asked while forcing myself to stand my ground.
“You’re keeping the shop and the chocolate. So, no, his death didn’t change anything.”
Again I had to force myself to stand my ground, not because he’d advanced on me again, but because my confidence in my foolish plan had started to crumble.
What if—?
No. No. I needed to press forward. I needed to hear the truth, even if the truth turned out to be that I was in fact a terrible investigator.
“Why did you kill Derek?” The words popped out of my mouth.
“You’re not listening to me. I didn’t kill—!” he shouted.
“Yes, you did. You shot him dead. Why? Was he threatening you?”
He shook his head. “You know he threatened me. You were there.”
“He threatened to do what? Expose you? Did he threaten to tell the police that he’d left the bar early that night, that you couldn’t use him as your alibi? Was he demanding you pay him money in exchange for his silence?”
“No wonder everyone in town thinks you’re crazy. You don’t know what you’re talking about, but you keep saying things anyway.”
My confidence slipped a little further. I had no idea what to say to that. Perhaps he was innocent after all.
“If I was working with Derek,” he said, his voice low and tight, “why would I help save you? It would have been an easy thing to simply snap your neck after you’d fallen down the stairs. No one would have been the wiser.”
“True. You could have.” I shivered at the thought. “But at the time, I was still going to give away the shop and let you sell the rights to Mabel’s chocolates. Edward had already told Jody that he was going to renegotiate selling the building. Had he told you the same thing?”
Cal sighed again. “You’re like your nasty little dog. You don’t know when to give up. I’m starting to think maybe I should have snapped your skinny neck.”
Only a killer—or perhaps one of my ex-boyfriends—would say something like that.
“Thank you for not snapping my neck,” I said.
Since I was fairly certain Harley had abandoned me at the church, I started looking around the room for backup. A misplaced gun. A crowbar. A heavy book. Anything I could use to fend off Cal if he actually attacked me.
“I mean”—I held up my hands and took a step back, edging closer to the door—“let’s not argue. I was simply telling you what had been going on in my head. It’s not like I ran to the police with these wild ravings or anything.”
“You went to the police?” Several red blotches appeared on his face. Apparently he wasn’t listening to me.
“No! I just said I didn’t go to the police. Why would I?”
“Why? Why? Because you called the police when you thought my brother was guilty of the crime.”
“I’m sorry?” I said. I’m not sure why I made it a question. And I wasn’t sorry. “Today has been an emotional, exhausting day for the both of us. Let’s just go our separate ways, okay?”
He jammed his hands in his insanely expensive pants pockets. “It’s not that easy.” He walked back to the kitchen.
While his back was turned to me, I decided it was time to make my escape. I charged toward the door. With each step, my sprained ankle threatened to collapse under me.
He shouted a curse and ran after me. I managed to peel the door open just as he grabbed my arm.
I twisted sharply and managed to free my arm long enough to land a blow to his chin. He staggered backward. I dove out the door.
I would have made a clean escape if not for my sprained ankle. It twisted as I ran toward the stairs. I stumbled and would have taken yet another tumble down the stairs if not for Cal grabbing me from behind. He wrapped an arm around my chest, trapping my hands.
I tossed back my head and screamed. He slammed a hand over my mouth as he dragged me back inside. A flock of startled herons took flight out of the nearby trees. Otherwise, the chilly night was silent.
Cal kicked the door closed behind us and then removed his hand from its bruising grip over my mouth.
“What-what are you doing?” I gasped. He dragged me into the kitchen. “Let me go. Now.”
When I struggled against his hold, he kicked my sprained ankle. The pain nearly blinded me.
“Getting this.” With his free arm, he pulled down Mabel’s intricately carved wooden cask.
“How did that get there?” I’d left it in the shop. I know I did.
“I put it there.” He put the cask on the kitchen counter and stroked the top of the box. “Beautiful, isn’t it? And what’s inside it is worth more than gold.”
“I don’t care what it’s worth. You can have it. Just let me go.”
“Too late for that. Today is the last day.”
“What?” I twisted and turned but could not break loose.
“That idiot Derek had worried you would go back on your word,” Cal explained. “Damn if he wasn’t right. I really should have snapped your neck when I found you at the bottom of the stairs. But the only reason the fool wanted you dead was so he could get his brother to demand more money from me. The greedy bastard wanted his share of the money and more. You were right about one thing. He was blackmailing me because he knew I’d used him as my alibi. Then he pulled that stupid stunt of trying to kill you. After that, I knew the fool had to go. He was a money pit hungry for his next high.”
I tried again to twist away from Cal. I’d taken more than a dozen self-defense classes and considered myself proficient at escape maneuvers. But unlike the instructors in the cla
ss, he moved like an octopus. Whenever I’d managed to kick or punch away one arm, he seemed to already have another one on me. Plus he kept hitting me in my bruised ribs or kicking my sprained ankle.
“You want to kill me?” I shouted, hoping against hope that Harley or anyone might hear me. I hoped like I’d never hoped before that Harley was hiding somewhere in the apartment and waiting for the right moment to jump out and save me.
I could hear a knocking sound coming from somewhere in the apartment. Was that Harley? The plan had been for him to wait in the other room with a recorder and to intervene if needed.
But that knocking was probably just Stella. The poor nervous puppy had started barking like crazy again. I could picture her throwing herself at the door.
“Haven’t you been paying attention? Of course I want to kill you. And it has to happen tonight, baby.” Cal’s breath felt hot on my face. “If you die tomorrow, your heirs will inherit the shop and the rights to Mabel’s chocolate. But if you die tonight, Mabel’s greedy family will get their hands on everything she wanted you to have. I might have to pay their inflated price, but they’ve already agreed to sell the chocolate to me.”
“How-how can you do this? I-I thought you liked me,” I cried as his hands encircled my neck.
“Don’t be stupid, Penn.” He didn’t look attractive anymore. I wondered why I’d ever thought he looked like an action hero or a fashion model. He was ugly through and through. “You’re about as likable as a porcupine. Only an idiot—a blind idiot—would want to be with you. Even your own dog hates you.”
Cal’s hands closed even tighter over my throat—so tight, I couldn’t even wheeze.
Why had I trusted Harley or anyone to help me? I should have known better. I should have known I was on my own with this.
My vision grayed even further. I gasped, but no air could get into my lungs. My chest heaved with distress.
I clawed at Cal’s hands. I knew I’d drawn blood, but his hold didn’t budge.
Asking for Truffle: A Southern Chocolate Shop Mystery Page 26
