A Flair for Truffles (The Sadie Kramer Flair Mysteries Book 4)

by Deborah Garner

  “How about explaining that,” Broussard said.

  Sadie pulled her thoughts together quickly. “Sue Bennett had chocolate sent to her by three different men, which implies emotional involvement of some sort.”

  “Possibly,” Broussard said. “People could have many reasons for sending chocolate.”

  “This was not just ordinary chocolate!” Sadie exclaimed. “These were satin boxes of Matteo’s famous Valentine truffle assortments!” Really, Sadie thought to herself, there is chocolate, and then there is chocolate! She was not about to let Matteo’s exquisite creations be referred to at a common level.

  Broussard spoke cautiously. “I will remember to keep chocolate on my list of sensitive topics from now on.”

  “Good,” Sadie said, considering this a consciousness-awakening moment for Broussard.

  “I don’t suppose I can convince you to back off from this,” Broussard said.

  “I’ll consider it if you can get Froggy to stop pestering me,” Sadie said. “Or those women. If I see another one of them in my shop, I’ll start thinking I’m being set up.”

  More silence on the line. Oops!

  “What women?”

  Sadie knew that was coming as soon as the words slipped out. “I think it’s more complicated than just the three men who ordered the chocolate.” She made sure to emphasize the word “chocolate” to additionally clarify Matteo’s quality. “It seems there’s a woman behind each man in question.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Broussard’s tone told Sadie he was grinning.

  “I’m not entirely sure that’s funny,” Sadie pointed out. “A woman has been murdered after all. At least…” Sadie paused, angling for more information. “This was definitely murder, wasn’t it? That’s not inside information. The newspapers here even refer to it that way.”

  “Correct,” Broussard said. “Murder it is, but let’s not get off track here. You were talking about women involved with each of the three men. Why do you think that?”

  Sadie knew when she was busted. Besides, she could use his help figuring out the connection. “I saw them together at Fisherman’s Wharf today.”

  “You just happened to be at the wharf again?”

  “Let’s skip that part for right now,” Sadie said. “And for the record, I didn’t connect any of this until today. So I wasn’t holding back information.”

  “Fair enough,” Broussard said. A pop-top clicked open on the other end of the line, making Sadie momentarily question if a cold soda might taste better than the wine she held.

  “I went back to the wharf today,” Sadie said, “because it bothered me that I hadn’t found the man named Bruno. But I did figure out who he was.”

  “Not to brag,” Broussard said, “but we’re ahead of you on that.”

  “Fine,” Sadie said. “Good to see our tax dollars at work. But what about his wife?”

  “He’s not married, Sadie,” Broussard said. “Perhaps detective work isn’t the best hobby for you. How about knitting? Cooking? Online poker?”

  “Maybe online poker,” Sadie said, just to get back at him for giving her a hard time. “But the woman Bruno works with is involved somehow.”

  “Why do you think that?” Broussard asked, sounding hesitant.

  “Because she met up with the other two women,” Sadie said. “The bartender from Zany Z’s and the fancy woman I saw at Manning Property Holdings.”

  Broussard was silent. Sadie knew now that she’d hit on something the police hadn’t already figured out. Maybe she wouldn’t be taking up online poker after all.

  “Did they see you?” Broussard finally said.

  “No, I’m sure they didn’t.” Realizing Broussard would now be even more worried, Sadie played it down. “I was several tables away, plus I had my rain poncho on with the hood up. And they were too busy arguing with each other to pay attention anyway.”

  “Odd,” was all Broussard said.

  “I thought so too,” Sadie said, feeling quite pleased with herself for being on what felt like equal footing with law enforcement.

  “All the more reason to stay away,” Broussard said.

  “Agreed,” Sadie said, this time sincerely. At three to one, the odds weren’t in her favor. Not to mention Sue Bennett’s demise, quite a bad sign in itself.

  “By the way, which is your favorite?”

  “My favorite?” Sadie repeated. “As in which woman is my hunch for the guilty one?”

  Broussard laughed. “No. Your favorite chocolate. The ones your next-door neighbor makes that you claim are so unique.”

  “His name is Matteo,” Sadie clarified. “And it’s impossible to choose a favorite. Plus he changes flavors all the time. I’d say the maple-pecan truffle is up there at the top of the list. Also the mango coconut, the cherry-vanilla almond, the cappuccino mint, and the hazelnut caramel. Now that I think about it,” Sadie continued, “the pistachio sea salt is also delicious, as is the key lime, which is very delicate…”

  “I think I get the picture,” Broussard said. “And you get the picture about keeping your distance from those women, right?”

  “Yes,” Sadie said.

  “I know you’re going to be curious, so I’ll keep you informed on anything I’m allowed to share that Fro—” Broussard coughed and cleared his throat. “That Detective Frogert and I discuss.”

  Sadie chuckled.

  “What?” Broussard asked.

  “You almost said ‘Froggy.’”

  “Good night, Ms. Kramer.”

  “Good night, Detective Broussard.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sadie thanked a tall, good-looking gentleman for his purchase as she handed him a large bag with two elegant boxes inside. She and Amber had done a fabulous job gift wrapping the identical red silk negligees, not even batting an eye at the possible reasons for the matching items. After all, it wasn’t their place to judge. Besides, a sale was a sale. And even Sadie had to admit she’d purchased duplicates of certain clothing that she’d especially loved. Going back to shop for a particular item months later, after deciding it was a favorite, was rarely successful.

  The day had started well, with multiple sales within the first hour of business. An elderly woman had purchased whimsical charm bracelets to surprise her granddaughters at a Valentine’s brunch. A man with a slight limp had—with much indecision and help—settled on a chenille sweater for his mother. Amber’s display of the garden rose hand lotion had solved gift-giving quandaries for several other customers who were looking for something small but thoughtful. It was going to be a good day for business, which was always a good thing.

  Taking advantage of a short break in activity, Sadie escaped into her office to take care of miscellaneous business matters. Not nearly as fun as selecting and ordering new items for the shop, bills still needed to be paid, which required matching packing slips with invoices. There were always a few phone calls to answer since busy days tended to send incoming calls to voice mail. Sadie faced a perpetual challenge to keep her desk from becoming an overflowing mound of tasks. The fact she couldn’t resist sleuthing challenges on the side didn’t help.

  Amber stuck her head in the back office. “There’s a line at the counter again. Might be good to have backup. Oh, and there’s also a customer who seems iffy to me.”

  “Really? In what way?” Sadie set her paperwork aside and followed Amber back to the front counter, glancing around as she made her way through the shop. Sure enough, an oddly dressed woman stood near a circular rack, her back to the sales counter. One by one, she pulled selections out, either draping them over her arm or replacing them in what Sadie suspected was not the same location on the rounder.

  The last behavior in itself wasn’t strange. Customers often pulled hangers out, looked selections over, and put them back in haphazard fashion. It was the reason many stores had “go back” racks outside dressing rooms. Flair was a small boutique, so Amber just straightened things up at the end of ea
ch day, moving misplaced clothing and accessories to their correct locations. There were far fewer items to rearrange than a department store would have to put away.

  Nothing about the customer looked familiar to Sadie, at least not from the back. Her attire was more casual than most of Flair’s clientele but several steps above that of a street person and a bit more risqué. The woman’s denim miniskirt seemed a little summery for a chilly San Francisco day, and the tie-dyed T-shirt was ’60s-style but not currently fashionable. Cowboy boots struck Sadie as an odd footwear choice too, considering the T-shirt. But who was she to judge? Part of the joy of the fashion world was finding one’s own individual style. And this was certainly individual.

  “Uh-oh,” Amber whispered. She nodded her head toward the woman, who was on her way to the dressing room with a good dozen hangers of apparel draped over one arm.

  “Uh-oh is right,” Sadie said, looking up.

  “Exactly,” Amber said. “Maybe we should have one of those “six items only” signs on the wall. At least we’d have some control over what customers took back there.”

  Sadie shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I know who that is.” It had only taken a brief glance at the woman’s profile once she turned away from the clothing rack to identify her. “That’s the bartender from the other night. Her name’s Lila.”

  “From your wild night on the town?” Amber smiled as if in on a well-guarded secret. She paused the discussion to ring up a silver cuff bracelet for a thirty-something gentleman. Setting the jewelry in a gift box that Sadie pulled from under the counter, she added a red ribbon, placed it in a store logo bag, and thanked the customer for his purchase.

  “It was hardly a wild night,” Sadie said after the man walked away. “I had a drink and took in a little local culture.”

  Amber laughed. “And watched a bar fight break out.”

  “Well, yes,” Sadie admitted. “There was that.” She kept her eyes trained on the dressing room door, wondering if Lila would bring anything to the counter to purchase or if she was there simply to spy on her. Or was she simply getting paranoid?

  As if on cue, the dressing room door opened, and Lila emerged with a lacy button-down blouse. As she brought it to the counter, Sadie already wondered how many buttons would remain undone when she wore it.

  “Shall I ring this up for you now?” Amber said, adopting a professional tone.

  “Yes, please.” Lila fished her wallet out of an overstuffed Coach bag. Knockoff, I bet, Sadie thought before chastising herself for being catty.

  “You look familiar,” Lila said, eyeing Sadie. “Do I know you?”

  Up close, the woman looked prettier than Sadie remembered, and Sadie took note of the differences. She wore less makeup and had a calmer demeanor. Perhaps the Lila persona she saw at the bar was more of an act than a true personality. It made sense, considering the setting. Tips could be better if she played up to the customers.

  “I don’t think so,” Sadie said calmly. “Maybe you’ve shopped here before?”

  “Never. First time.” Lila handed a credit card to Amber. “But you have cute stuff.” She picked up a bottle of hand lotion, sniffed it, and set it back down.

  “She just has one of those faces,” Amber said, redirecting the conversation to a credit card slip for Lila to sign. “You know: the kind everyone recognizes.”

  “I guess so.” Lila shrugged, signed the slip, and put her credit card in her wallet. Amber held the bagged blouse while Lila fought to stuff the wallet back into her purse. A tube of lipstick, roll of breath mints, several crunched-up grocery coupons, and a partially eaten cookie fell out on the counter. Lila picked everything up and stuffed it back into the purse. She zipped it closed with some effort. “Thanks,” she said, taking the Flair bag from Amber.

  “Knockoff,” Amber said as soon as Lila was out the door, causing Sadie to laugh. “What?” She eyed Sadie.

  “Nothing.” Sadie smiled.

  “You know I’m right,” Amber whispered as another customer approached the register, this time a man in his forties.

  “I’d like to purchase this for my wife,” the man said. He brushed the countertop off with one hand before setting a royal blue cardigan sweater down. “This is her favorite color.”

  “Then I’m glad we had it,” Sadie said. She watched as the man straightened the lotion bottle that Lila had left askew. “We don’t often have that color. It must have been meant to be.”

  “Indeed,” the man said just before dropping out of sight suddenly. Sadie and Amber exchanged looks. Just as quickly he stood back up, reminding Sadie of a jack-in-the-box toy. “Here,” the man said as he placed a small stack of miscellaneous papers on the counter, bundled together with a rubber band. “These were on the floor.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his hands with it, and put it back in his pocket. “Perhaps a customer dropped them.”

  “Probably. Thank you for noticing.” Sadie picked the papers up quickly, if only to keep the man from being further disturbed by the lack of order he was encountering. “I should put these in the office. Someone may come back for them.”

  “Good idea,” Amber said. “I’m fine now.” She waved Sadie away in mock dismissal while asking the customer if he’d like a box and ribbon for the gift.

  Sadie carried the small clump of papers to her office. Any one of the day’s customers might have dropped them: the woman who purchased the charm bracelet, the limping gentleman who bought the chenille sweater for his mother, or the more recent customer, Lila. This last possibility would be the most opportune, as it might lead to some sort of clue in the Sue Bennett case.

  Taking a seat behind her desk, she removed the rubber band and spread the contents out. She often accumulated a similar batch of papers in her own purse: receipts, notes and business cards, nothing out of the ordinary. Every now and then she’d sort through them and throw most of them out, wondering why she’d ever kept them in the first place.

  Separating the random papers into categories, she took a closer look at each. There were no credit cards or any type of store card with a name on it. This was smart of the person who’d dropped it but not helpful for anyone wanting to return the papers to their owner. A grocery list, scribbled on a Post-it, was boring at best. A business card from a nail salon had a name scrawled across the top in blue ink but not one she recognized—most likely the manicurist. A second business card from a psychic caused Sadie to lift an eyebrow before setting it aside as silly. Unless, she mused, the psychic had told the person to shop at Flair. Then it wasn’t silly at all. She patted the business card in possible appreciation.

  Sadie pushed a few more business cards aside and moved on to peruse the coupons. She frowned at a “Buy two cake mixes, get the third free” deal. She never considered that type of promotion real savings. Often the price of the item was raised enough that the three combined totaled the same amount as two on sale would have been. Not to mention the additional calories in this case! The next coupon was tempting—one dollar off a box of Coco’s favorite treats. Still, swiping a coupon from someone else without permission would technically be stealing. It was worth one dollar to keep her conscience clear.

  Setting the coupons aside, she investigated a handful of folded receipts. Most were for mundane purchases at everyday locations: a gas station, a fast-food burger joint, and groceries. But a fourth one got her attention. Not because the items purchased were of interest—buffalo wings and a soda—but because of the location. Zany Z’s. An employee discount applied to the total confirmed what she’d originally hoped. Lila, in stuffing spilled items back into her purse, had neglected to notice the bundled papers had fallen on the floor.

  Sadie smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Now she was getting somewhere. Or… was she? Her smile faded. So what if Lila liked fast-food burgers and chicken wings? Or had a favorite manicurist? Or sought advice from a psychic? How would any of that link her to Sue Bennett’s murder? Unless…

/>   Grabbing the business cards again, Sadie looked at each one. Could there be something that indicated where the three women might have met? The nail salon was a possibility. The psychic? Unlikely. Those sessions would be one-on-one, not a joint activity where the women might meet. A few other cards were also less than fruitful. The automobile club? No, that was not exactly a hub of social activity. A law firm? Interesting, but probably not. The next card, however, caught her interest. A food bank.

  Sadie leaned back in her chair and pondered the card, waving it in the air as if divining its meaning Johnny Carson style. San Francisco had more than its share of homeless people and an equally proportionate number of food banks that depended on donations from both private citizens and restaurants. That could explain both Zany Z’s and Bruno AKA Brownie’s crab shack. As for the third woman, perhaps a hoity-toity type might volunteer in order to contribute to society or donate money.

  Looking at the back of the card, she noted an inked notation. VBfst2/14. That was clear as… A Canadian zip code came to mind; those always confused her. But on second thought, the scribbled note was clear. The food bank would be holding a Valentine’s Day breakfast. And, come to think of it, it had been quite a while since she’d volunteered for anything.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Let me get this straight,” Matteo said as he prepared to open Cioccolato for the day. “You want me to donate a tray of truffles to the food bank.”

  Sadie bit into a praline pecan truffle, contemplating Matteo’s expression. He didn’t look unwilling or even annoyed, but he was definitely uncertain and likely wondered what she was up to. After all, it wasn’t anything she’d asked him to do before. Besides, this was his biggest sales period of the year, and he really didn’t have extras to spare.

  “This is really good with coffee!” Sadie exclaimed, completely off topic. Amber had brought her a “Sweetheart Latte” from Jay’s Java Joint. The lightly cinnamon-laced drink complemented the praline flavor nicely.