“Daphne’s allergy wasn’t exactly a secret,” Gino said. “Preston was interviewed for the New York Times last month and asked about his favorite food. He said that it was scallops. He then went on to mention how he’d ordered the dish when out with his publicist for dinner one night and had to send it back because the smell of the seafood made her ill.”
What great timing. Anyone who had seen that article would have known about Daphne’s allergy. “So, if Preston knew, the rest of his family probably did, too, and the chances were excellent that Lorenzo was aware of it as well.”
Gabby snorted. “From what you overheard, Tess, the chances are excellent that Daphne and Lorenzo were doing other things besides sharing a fish fry dinner.”
“That’s a delicate way of putting it,” Gino mused. “What I’d like to know is, wouldn’t someone notice that the taste was off in the cannoli? Fish and chocolate don’t usually go well together, at least not in my book.”
“Not if it was ground finely, which I suspect it was.” Uneasiness swept through me. Lorenzo worked in his mother’s bakery. If he’d wanted to kill Daphne and put the blame on someone else, he knew enough about the pastry to make it work. Then again, it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone, even Sylvia Rigotta, whose cooking skills barely rivaled Luigi’s. “Maybe the killer found Gabby’s key and lured Daphne there.”
Gabby tried to snatch the wine back from Gino, but he was having none of it. She folded her arms on the table and sunk her head into them. “This makes me sick. Why would someone want to do this to me?”
Gino shrugged. “It might just be bad luck on your part. Is there someone who had a grudge against you and Daphne? Or maybe Tessa?”
I stabbed a finger into my chest. “You think someone is framing me?”
“Maybe someone hoped this would affect your restaurant opening.” His eyes grew as dark as the sky outside. “Was there an individual who asked for a job at Anything’s Pastable and you refused to hire them?”
I burst out laughing. “Don’t I wish. Do you know what a tough time I’ve had finding capable help on what I’m paying?”
He spoke gently. “Tess, could there be another skeleton lurking in Dylan’s closet that we don’t know about?”
“Gino!” Gabby gasped. “How can you say such a thing? Hasn’t she been through enough already?”
“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “I wondered the same thing, but no, I honestly don’t believe it has to do with me or Dylan.” There was no way I could go through that again. All the secrets he’d kept had devastated me. “How are we supposed to get to the bottom of this if you and Lou can’t work the case?”
Gino cocked an eyebrow at me. “What’s this we stuff? Don’t even think of interfering.”
Gabby straightened up with a definitive air. “Remember, Tess was the one to discover who murdered Dylan. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that important detail.”
She was giving me way too much credit. “Yes, maybe a split second before I had a gun held to my head. And I don’t deserve all the credit. You and Gino helped, too.”
“No, I haven’t forgotten.” Gino pressed his lips together tightly. “Tess did a great job putting the pieces together. But she was reckless and almost got herself killed in the process. And ahem—someone else as well.”
Gabby tossed her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Gino was right. Once I had discovered Dylan’s death was no accident, I’d been driven to find the killer at any cost, even if it meant losing my own life as well. Grief had consumed me, and I wasn’t thinking straight. The worst part was that it had almost cost Gabby her life. I hadn’t seen that coming until it was almost too late. But this time we were both suspects, so what else was there for us to do? I wasn’t going to sit back and watch someone destroy our livelihoods. “Come on. What harm would it do if Gabby and I did a little snooping?”
Gino eyed the bottle of wine longingly. “You don’t think Harvest Park’s Police Department is smart enough to figure it out for themselves?”
“You know that isn’t true.” Why did he always have to be so stubborn? Because it was a family trait, and all three of us were guilty of it. “Of course the police know what they’re doing.”
“Even Paddy McJerk,” Gabby commented. “He’s a creep but nobody’s fool.”
I went on. “No one is personally invested in this like Gabby or me. The news about Daphne has already leaked out, and that will mean people staying away from her store.” I hesitated before continuing. “If that happens, she may have to shut down.”
My cousin’s lower lip quivered as she voiced my unspoken thoughts. “It may affect Anything’s Pastable’s grand opening, too. Once word gets out that Daphne died from the cannoli—”
“No one’s going to find that out,” Gino said quickly. “People know she died at the bookstore but that’s all.”
“Right,” Gabby mocked. “It’s not like Harvest Park townspeople are busybodies or anything.” She mimicked our local news anchor. “‘The publicist for bestselling author Preston Rigotta, whom the bookstore owner hated, died of suspicious circumstances in the store after it had closed to the public for the night.’ Gee, that makes me look like a peach, doesn’t it?”
I spoke quietly. “All I’m suggesting is that Gabby and I talk to Preston and his family. Or maybe go down to the television studio and have a chat with Sylvia. I’ll pretend that I need some cooking tips from her, or something.”
Gabby looked at me in disbelief. “You’re a trained chef, while she’s an overpaid, glorified phony. Why would she believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” The woman had an ego larger than life and would probably eat it right up.
“Please, Gino.” Gabby turned pleading eyes on her brother. “I can’t sit around and do nothing while I wait for my store to close.”
Gino’s stern expression softened as he reached down to give his sister’s hair an affectionate tousle. “A few questions with Sylvia, and that’s all.” He turned to me. “You’re pretty close with Carlita, right?”
Uh oh. I had a feeling about what was coming next. “I guess. Why?”
“I don’t know Lorenzo well,” Gino confessed. “Paddy doesn’t know Carlita or her family at all, and I have a feeling he won’t get much out of them. I told him about the exchange you overheard between Lorenzo and Daphne, so he will be questioning him. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a little chat with Lorenzo and Carlita. She trusts you.”
Great. I did not want to talk to Lorenzo about his relationship with Daphne, especially with Carlita overhearing. She’d probably go into cardiac arrest. “I’m not sure I would be comfortable with that.”
“Please, Tess,” Gabby begged. “Without Gino or Lou working the case, what else can we do? You’re my last hope. What if Paddy botches everything up?”
Gino stiffened at her words. “He’s not going to botch it up. What do you think, he’s a clown from the circus? I simply thought it would be a good idea since Carlita is fond of Tessa. They might open up a bit more to her.”
“Carlita’s not an idiot, Gino,” Gabby scoffed. “She must know that Lorenzo’s a ladies’ man. I’ve heard there are nights when he doesn’t come home at all.”
I squirmed in discomfort. “I don’t want to know the details of Lorenzo’s love life.” How would Carlita react if she knew that Lorenzo had been sleeping with Daphne and was now a murder suspect because of it? Not well, I suspected. Maybe deep down she knew what her son was doing at night, but Carlita preferred to look through rose-colored glasses where her children were concerned. To her, the world was filled with sweet things like buttercream icing, vanilla, and chocolate chips, all the ingredients to soothe. It was similar to me and my tomato sauce.
“All right,” Gino said. “A few questions, and that’s it.”
Gabby slung an arm around my shoulders “Te
ssa and I make a great team.”
Gino placed his hands on his hips. “Some team. More like a head-throbbing migraine for the police department. Let me know what you find out. Just between us, Lou and I will discreetly be doing some checking on our own when we can. We expect Daphne’s autopsy report back in the next day or two. The toxicology tests will take longer.”
Gabby made a tsk-tsk sound. “You could get in trouble for this, big brother,” she said. “Poking around where you’re not supposed to.”
“I know what I’m doing. Unlike some people.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You’re a proverbial pain in the butt most days, Gabs, but you’re also my only sister.” He turned and bussed my cheek. “And you’re okay, too.”
Gabby watched in surprise as Gino let himself out the front door. “I’ll be darned. Guess Harvest Park’s top detective is human after all.”
I began to clear the table. “He’s only concerned about us.” It was rare for Gino to show his sensitive side on the job. He was a great guy, but he spent so much time in work mode that he found it difficult to show emotion. Lucy and I had discussed it, but after eight years of marriage she knew what to expect from him and never complained. They complemented each other perfectly.
Gabby stood and yawned. “I need to sleep. What time should we talk to Sylvia tomorrow?”
“I have a couple of vendors stopping by to see me in the afternoon, and I need to call your accountant. What was his name again?”
“Barney Wingate. Yeah, he’s cool. I’ll give you his number.”
“Plus, I have to contact Stephanie’s references, and if they check out, I’m offering her the job. I thought I’d spend the morning making pasta but can easily move that to the afternoon. I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock.”
She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Hmm. Preston mentioned that Sylvia tapes her show until eleven every morning. How about ten thirty?”
“That’s fine.” I placed the leftover carbonara in the fridge. “But I need to be back at the restaurant by one. If Once Upon a Book is still closed, you can hang out with me for the afternoon.” I didn’t want her to be alone but was careful not to say so. Gabby was fiercely independent. “Want to learn how to prepare homemade pasta? You could make Lou a great meal.”
“Thanks, Tess, but Lou knows not to expect anything from me in that department.” Her eyes twinkled and revealed the Gabby that I knew and loved, not the recent anxiety-laden one. “But I’m always happy to be your personal taste tester.”
* * *
When I honked the horn the next morning, Gabby immediately stuck her head out the door and raised a finger, indicating she’d be another minute. I yawned and stared up at the gloomy gray clouds overhead that threatened to burst and soak the ground at any second.
I was already in a foul mood that threatened to last all day. Per usual, I hadn’t slept well, but this time I’d dreamed of finding Daphne’s body. It used to be Dylan I dreamed about every night, which had been painful, but at least then I didn’t wake up screaming.
I’d already been to the restaurant, and my excitement about the menu delivery arriving a day early was doused like water on a fire when I spotted major errors. The menus were supposed to be maroon with gold trim. Instead, the restaurant’s name was embossed in large gold lettering on a blue cover, identifying it as “Anything’s Pasteable.” No, paste wasn’t on the menu and never would be.
The distributor had apologized and promised new ones would ship by Wednesday. He assured me they’d be there in time for opening night, but I was getting nervous.
I stared down at the text I’d received from Justin earlier this morning. Sorry I had to run last night. How about I make you dinner tonight? Even chefs need an evening off, right?
My heart ached for Justin and everything he’d been through—first Natalie’s deception, the horrific day-to-day details of his job, and now the guilt over leaving his newly widowed mother. Like Gino, even though he was trained to deal with life-and-death situations, no one could always be immune to them. I wanted to be there for him, like he’d been there for me since Dylan died, but for some reason, he was not opening up.
I had to laugh at the dinner invite. Justin had once made me breakfast, and another time he had burned grilled cheese sandwiches to the point where he almost needed his firehose. Sounds interesting, lol. I’ll probably be at the restaurant until eight or so. What works for you?
Hi response came within seconds. That’s fine. Come over whenever you get done. I’ll be home all night.
See you then, I typed back.
Gabby ran down the driveway in her yellow slicker and jumped into the seat next to me. As soon as her seat belt was in place, I backed the car out of the driveway. “Any news about the store?”
She popped a breath mint into her mouth. “Lou just called, which is why I asked you to wait. He said the autopsy report was back and he wants to discuss it with us. Anyhow, the good news is that I should be able to reopen this afternoon.”
“That’s awesome.” Maybe things were looking up.
She grunted. “Well, it would be, but I doubt I’ll get any customers. Everyone knows what’s happened, and although people in this town are polite, deep down they’ll think I’m responsible. Archie called this morning and said that Daphne’s death was the topic of conversation in his shop while everyone was sipping their lattes. I really hate this. One of the local busybodies even asked Archie for dirt because they know he’s chummy with us, but he told them he didn’t know anything.”
“Arch is as loyal as a dog. Thank goodness he’s in our corner. Now stop worrying. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Gabby gave me a feeble smile. “I knew I could count on your help.”
“And I promise you, no dangerous situations this time. Gino’s right. I’ll never forgive myself for almost getting you killed last fall.”
She held up a hand. “Whoa. Forget what my brother said. I wanted to be involved in the hunt for Dylan’s killer. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I hope you know that.”
A lump the size of a mountain formed in my throat. Gabby was the sister I’d never had, and I thanked my lucky stars for her every day. “Ditto.”
“So, what’s the plan? Come on, fill me in.”
I turned into the television-studio parking lot. “We’re going to feel Sylvia out a bit. I’ll talk about cooking and see if it can lead to Daphne’s death.”
Gabby stared at me thoughtfully. “She had the biggest motive if her husband was truly having an affair with Daphne. Plus she bakes—or pretends to. She could have slipped the shrimp powder into the cannoli.”
I slammed the car door and hit the remote to lock it. “That’s exactly what I was thinking too.”
News Channel 11’s studio was in the heart of Albany, only a few blocks from where Dylan had previously worked. When I’d won the State Fair’s competition with my tomato sauce, I’d been interviewed on their morning news program. I knew there were two studios inside—one for the kitchen where Sylvia taped her show and the other where the six and eleven o’clock news were filmed.
The young woman stationed behind the receptionist counter looked like she was barely out of her teens. Her expression was bored as she listened to someone on the office line while studying her iPhone. The name plate on the counter identified her as Liz.
“Yes. I’ll tell him you called.” Liz placed the phone back in its cradle and muttered, “Again.” She stared up at us expectantly. “May I help you?”
“Hi, is Sylvia Rigotta still here?”
Liz glanced down at her iPhone again, which I noticed displayed her Instagram page. “Yes, she’s wrapping up her show for the day. Is she expecting you?”
“Yes,” Gabby said quickly. I nudged her but she ignored me. “Tell her it’s about her husband.”
She glanced at Gabby with su
spicious eyes. “And you are…?”
Gabby’s cheeks reddened. “My name is Gabby Mancusi.”
“Hang on a second.” Liz heaved herself out of the leather swivel chair, her stilettos clacking against the linoleum as she walked toward a door marked PRIVATE—TAPING IN PROGRESS and closed it softly behind her.
“Are you nuts?” I whispered. “Why didn’t you let me handle it?”
Gabby jutted her chin out in defiance. “My name will get her out here quickly. Mark my words.”
She was right. The door swung open a few seconds later. Sylvia stormed toward us, her blue eyes cold as ice cubes when they focused on Gabby. Without further thought, I jumped in front of my cousin, a vain attempt to protect her from the woman’s wrath.
“What in God’s name are you doing here?” Sylvia thrust a finger into my face. “Liz, call the police! These women should be arrested for murder.”
Eight
“This is all a mistake,” I said in my most reassuring tone. “We didn’t kill anyone. Gabby only wanted to apologize to you and your husband.”
“I did?” Gabby whispered before I reached over to pinch her hand. “Ouch. I mean, yes, I did.”
When I stepped aside, Gabby immediately lowered her head to the floor and spoke in a timid voice like a naughty five-year-old. “I’m really sorry about what happened.”
An acting career was definitely not in Gabby’s future.
Sylvia stared at her in disbelief. “You’re a liar. Why did you kill that poor, innocent girl? Preston said that you were jealous of her.”
She didn’t know I’d overheard her conversation with Preston at the signing, unless Willow had told her. Did Sylvia really think Gabby and I hadn’t noticed her dislike of Daphne? She’d almost jumped for joy when Gabby spilled the wine on her. What was she trying to pull? We needed to tread lightly, and I was afraid my somewhat brazen cousin might come out with a smart-mouthed remark at any moment.
“Sylvia—may I call you Sylvia?” I gave her what I hoped was a starstruck smile. She glared at me and didn’t answer. “The truth is that Gabby hoped you’d deliver a message to Preston on her behalf. He was so upset the other night that she’s afraid he won’t give her bookstore a good recommendation on social media. But that’s only part of the reason why we’re here, though.”
It Cannoli Be Murder Page 9