Now it was time to get the heck out of here. If we got caught, things would turn ugly. A terrifying thought occurred to me. What if the Rigottas had cameras? Why hadn’t I thought of this before? I was about to text Gabby to meet me in the study, when I heard a door slam. Panicked, I placed the chocolate back on the shelf, hurried out of the pantry, and shut the door quietly. When I turned around, I almost jumped ten feet in the air.
Standing in front of me, with a startled expression on her face, was Willow Rigotta.
Fourteen
Willow’s sapphire eyes went wide with shock. “You. You’re Gabby’s cousin from the book signing. Tessa something. The one who made the cannoli. What are you doing in our pantry? Where’s Marta?”
I spoke slowly and methodically, hoping that panic wasn’t evident in my voice. “Oh, hi, Willow. I was hoping to see your mother. Marta’s upstairs vacuuming.” I didn’t mention Gabby and prayed Marta wouldn’t reappear and mention her either. “How’d your father’s signing go today?”
“It was canceled. Daddy had to go to New York City to meet with his agent and a film producer. They’re turning his new book into a movie.” Her jaw tightened. “But I still don’t know why you’re in our kitchen.”
“I couldn’t help checking out your mother’s impressive ingredients. I’m in awe of her talent.” My lies were going to catch up with me soon.
“Are you here alone?”
“Of course.” If Gabby was found, things would get worse. I hoped she’d overhear our exchange and head for the car. “Your mother keeps a well-stocked pantry.”
“That’s right. Mother said you were a chef.” Willow gave a smug smile. “She must have been jealous of you. She can barely manage to turn on an oven without help.”
I was surprised to hear her admit it. “You’re not a fan of her show?”
Willow shrugged. “It’s all right. Mother gets paid a ridiculous amount of money for doing nothing. She hates to cook. You know how some mothers bake cookies with their kids?”
“Yes.” How I yearned to do that someday.
“Not my mother,” she said in annoyance. “I made cookies with Marta instead. She’s the one who has taken care of me since I was a baby. Mother was always too busy trying to be in the limelight. The high society princess. Wife of a famous author. No time to be a parent. Honestly, I’m not quite sure why she even bothered to have me.”
“Why are you telling me this?” It seemed weird that she’d share all of this intimate information with a stranger. It also sounded like she resented Sylvia.
“Why not? It makes no difference if you or the entire world knows. I’m sick and tired of being their puppet. As soon as I turn twenty-one and get my trust fund, I’m out of here. They’re both so self-centered they couldn’t care less what happens to me.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” I wondered if she knew about Daphne’s baby and decided to fan the flame a bit. “It’s too bad that your parents never had more children. I’m an only child too and would have loved a brother or sister.”
“That was never an option,” Willow said. “My mother had a hysterectomy right after I was born. She said there were complications with the delivery.” To my surprise, she gave a low chuckle. “Maybe deep down she’s always resented me for it. Perhaps I should have studied psychology. I’d have a field day between the two of them.”
Wow. Bitter much? Boy, had I been wrong. I’d thought Willow wanted to keep her parents together, when in fact all she wanted to do was get away from them. I couldn’t resist delving a little further, and knew I was stepping into dangerous territory. “Daphne was only a few years older than you. Did you ever confide in her?”
A look of disgust came over her face. “Are you kidding? I wanted nothing to do with that tramp. All she cared about was getting her filthy hands on my father’s money. Money that will one day belong to me.”
“Were you jealous of her?” Daphne had been pretty enough to be a model, while Willow was unfortunately lacking in the looks department. Her blue eyes, while striking like her father’s, were small and too close together in her well-rounded face. Her nose was flat, and her cheeks bore several acne scars.
Willow’s eyes grew and practically bugged out of her head at my comment. “Jealous? Of her? Please. She tried to tell me what to do and was always offering stupid suggestions for the website. That was my creation, my baby. Not hers.”
She suddenly quieted, as if realizing she’d said too much, and then shot me a look of clear contempt. “Look. We all know that it was your cousin who killed Daphne. She was bullied by her in high school and obviously held a grudge all these years. At least that’s what my mother and father said. Now I think you ought to—”
A door slammed and Sylvia’s voice rang out through the walls. “Willow? Where are you, dear?”
Willow’s face paled, and mine must have as well. I should have gotten out of here sooner. Before I even had a chance to react, Sylvia appeared in the doorway behind her daughter.
“What’s this?” Sylvia surveyed me with a haughty expression, like I was a speck of dirt on a spotless floor. “What in the world are you doing here?”
She shot me a look so intense it could have melted the skin off my face. Heat burned my cheeks, and for a moment I worried that she’d succeeded.
“Tessa said she wanted to see your kitchen.” Willow glanced from me to her mother, her mouth quivering at the corners. She must have been hoping a war would break out.
Sylvia kept her eyes glued to my face as she waved a hand dismissively at her daughter. “Leave us, Willow.”
“With pleasure,” Willow growled, then turned on her heel and left the room without another word. A moment later her boots could be heard clunking loudly against the wooden stairs.
Sylvia folded her arms across her chest. “Again, I ask, what are you doing here?”
Time to put my acting skills to work. “I came to ask you a favor.”
Sylvia stared at me in disbelief. “You’ve come to ask me for a favor? Again? Where do you get the gall?”
“I know what a wonderful cook and baker you are.” It made me physically ill to say the words. “I was hoping you’d reconsider my request for a guest spot on your show. It would do wonders for my restaurant because of your popularity.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “I already told you no. This is turning into harassment. I’ll call the police to have it stopped.”
All I needed was for her to get the former jolly New York City detective on the phone. “Please. I’m such a big fan of yours and my restaurant needs all the help it can get.” No lie there.
Sylvia laughed in my face. “Silly girl. That little hole-in-the-wall hasn’t got a chance in your bumpkin town. Owning a restaurant isn’t for the faint of heart. Why don’t you start on a smaller scale, say, with a lemonade stand?”
Anger flickered in my chest. It was doubtful that Sylvia knew anything about working in a restaurant. For one thing, it was hard, exhausting work. You were run off your feet, the kitchen was an inferno, especially during summer months, and even though most customers were pleasant, there was always a disagreeable one who made trouble no matter how hard you tried to please them. Phony Sylvia only knew about the glory.
“Sorry that I wasted your time.” I turned to leave the room.
An egotistical smirk spread across her face. “Perhaps you should start worrying more about your time instead of mine, darling. You may not have much left. I wouldn’t be surprised if an arrest is made soon.”
“Oh, really?” I managed a smile, which wasn’t easy, even though years of working in restaurants had taught me patience. “Are you a detective now, too?”
“Don’t be a smart mouth with me,” she hissed. “Why don’t you just admit why you’re really here?”
I glared back at her. “And maybe you could explain why you were following me around
last night.”
Sylvia wrinkled her nose. “What are you talking about?”
“I was visiting a friend about eight-thirty, when I looked out the window and saw your car parked across the street. You must have seen me open the door because you took off right afterward. What were you doing there?”
Footsteps sounded in the hall. A door closed, and we both stopped talking to listen.
“Marta?” Sylvia called loudly. The vacuuming had stopped, but there was no answer. She turned back to me, her cold blue eyes resembling steel. “I don’t appreciate your accusation. If you must know, I was at home all night.”
I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Perhaps Willow took your car and—”
She gnashed her teeth together and thrust her hand toward the doorway. “How dare you. You’re making this all up. Get out of my house and do not come back. It’s obvious you’re here on a fishing expedition and trying to pin the murder on someone else other than your cousin. Rest assured that I will tell Preston all about your uninvited visit when he returns tonight.”
I was tempted to tell her to go right ahead but stopped myself in time. If Preston sought me out, then maybe I could discover what he knew about the baby. Perhaps he’d become so enraged that juicy tidbits would slip out of his mouth.
“It wasn’t my intention to offend you,” I said calmly. “Don’t worry—I’ll see myself out. Thanks for your time.”
She stared down her nose at me in disgust, as if I’d just suggested that she shop at a discount store. As I walked down the cold, stark white hallway toward the front door, her heels clicked on the expensive flooring behind me, no doubt watching my every move.
When I reached for the knob, Sylvia beat me to it. She jerked the door back and almost struck me in the face with it. “Don’t come back,” she hissed, “if you value your life.”
For a few seconds, I stood on the front porch, frozen into immobility. Sylvia had threatened me, but why? What was she afraid of?
I crossed the road and hurried to my car. As I opened the door, I glanced into the back seat and saw Gabby crouched down on the floor, finger to her lips and a broad smile on her face. I got inside and started the engine. “Thank God. I was afraid Marta caught you snooping.”
Once I was far enough away from the Rigotta home, Gabby swung herself into the front seat with minimal effort. “Sounds like you got in enough trouble for the both of us. I overheard your exchange with Willow and figured I ought to head for the car,” she said. “I just missed Sylvia coming in the driveway. Have a nice chat with them?”
“Oh, you’re hilarious. Good thing she didn’t see you because it would have made things worse. I’m sure Marta will fill her in, though.”
“No doubt.” She hooked her seat belt and stared expectantly at me. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What happened?”
I relayed how Willow had caught me coming out of the pantry, and Sylvia had joined her shortly afterward and told me to get out. “You said she was with her father. Preston’s signing was canceled.”
“I didn’t know it was canceled. Am I psychic now?”
“Whatever,” I grumbled. “But Sylvia didn’t buy my devoted fan act. In fact, she’s more ticked off than ever. We could get charged with harassment. At least I found the chocolate, though.”
Gabby did a fist pump. “I knew you would. Where is it?”
“I left it behind. I wasn’t taking a chance that she’d discover it was missing.”
She frowned as we drove onto the Northway. “She can’t cook, remember. She’d never know it was missing.”
“Marta might. Willow pretty much told me that Marta has done everything in that house, from diaper duty to dinner.”
“It doesn’t surprise me they’d get two jobs out of Marta for the same amount of pay,” Gabby mused. “People with the most money are often the cheapest.”
I put my blinker on to switch lanes. “And Willow—well, she surprised me. I thought she was the devoted daughter, but it turns out that she can’t wait to get away from Sylvia and Preston.”
“You’d do the same thing if you had them for parents. That entire family is messed up.”
“So it was Marta who prepared the cannoli I found next to Daphne. We need to question her.”
“But how? Sylvia threatened you. You can’t go in their house again.”
“You could go and talk to Preston,” I suggested. “Tell him how sorry you are about what happened at the signing.”
She looked at me like I had just suggested she cook a five-course meal. “You mean grovel at his feet?”
“Do you want to save your store or not?”
She sighed. “All right, I’ll do it. For the record, Tess, I never meant to get you involved in all of this. I don’t want it to affect Anything’s Pastable’s opening.”
“Everything’s going to be fine,” I assured her, with more confidence than I felt. “And I think we should speak to Daphne’s father. Maybe he can tell us if anyone else had an ax to grind with his daughter.”
“That’s pretty much a given,” she insisted. “But what makes you think he’ll talk to us?”
I pulled up in front of the bookstore. “We’ll tell him that we’re friends of Daphne’s.”
“He won’t believe that. Daphne didn’t have any friends.” Gabby glanced hopefully inside the store and sighed. “Looks like Liza’s alone.”
“Keep your chin up,” I told her. “Call me if you need anything.”
She waved and went inside. I hated to see her so disconsolate and hoped that customers would start showing up soon. I headed back to the restaurant, my mind turning to thoughts of tomato sauce.
The staff meeting lasted for about a half hour and went well. Everyone was pleasant to each other and seemed to share my excitement for the restaurant. After my new employees had left I busied myself for the next few hours setting up a payroll service for the employees, preparing and baking meatballs to freeze, and updating my website. I also spoke with Barney, Gabby’s accountant, over the phone. It had started to grow dark when I realized my stomach was rumbling and decided to go home. Some leftover pasta would hit the spot, then a relaxing bath, and I planned to snuggle up with Luigi to watch some television.
The sky overhead was an ominous black, with only a sliver of the moon appearing behind my row of cypress trees. With an eerie sense of foreboding, I fumbled with the key. As I inserted the correct one into the door, a shadow passed over me. Fear lodged tightly in my throat. I turned the knob just as someone grabbed my arm. In terror, I tried to scream, but a firm hand quickly clamped over my mouth, and I was pushed inside.
Panicked, I struggled against the strong masculine arms that held me in place, and then to my amazement and relief, I was released. Infuriated, I turned to find myself staring into the cold, angry eyes of Preston Rigotta.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get out of my house!” I shrieked and grabbed the nearest item I could find, an umbrella from the stand, which I held protectively in front of me.
He sneered, unimpressed with me and my so-called weapon. “Look, you twit. I don’t know what your problem is, but stop harassing my family or I’ll have you thrown in jail.”
I was outraged by his remark. “Who do you think you are? You just assaulted me! My cousin is a detective, and he’ll have you arrested!”
“Get real.” Preston’s eyes had approached below freezing temperatures. “It’s my word against yours, and I can come up with a much better story.” His lips stretched into a malicious grin. “I’m good at making things up, remember.”
Luigi was sitting on the arm of the loveseat. His bright green eyes focused intently on Preston as he emitted a loud hiss. I’d never heard Luigi hiss at anyone before, except my mother’s two dogs, Parm and Reggie.
Preston stared down at Luigi, as if seeing him for the first time, and
promptly took a step backward. “You and that ditzy cousin of yours killed my publicist, and now you’re trying to make it look like my family had something to do with it. That simply won’t do, Mrs. Esposito.” He leaned forward, pressing his face so close to mine that I could smell the stale coffee on his breath. “You don’t want to get on my bad side.”
“We had nothing to do with her death. We don’t even know why she was killed. But I’m guessing you do, especially since you were sleeping with her,” I blurted out.
Preston’s face tightened in anger as he took a step toward me. Whoops. Perhaps that wasn’t a smart thing for me to say.
“Why, you nosy little fool,” he muttered. “You’re going to be sorry for ever crossing me.”
Luigi gave a low growl, and then leapt into the air, landing on Preston’s back with his claws extended. Preston let out a scream, but before he could grab Luigi the cat jumped off him and ran yowling into the next room.
Preston threw open the front door and turned to face me. “Be sure to keep that cat inside.” He gave a low, menacing laugh that sent shivers down my spine. “It would be a shame if anything happened to him.”
* * *
A half hour later I was sitting on the loveseat, stroking Luigi’s head while Gino sat across from me. “You are going to arrest him, right?”
Gino looked tired. “I’ll have a talk with him, Tess, but don’t expect too much.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you care that he assaulted me? And he threatened to harm Luigi, too.”
A muscle ticked in Gino’s well-defined jaw. “Of course I care. How can you even ask me such a thing? I’m beyond pissed that he laid a hand on you. I hate feeling so helpless, especially where my family is involved. You can press charges against him, Tess, but to be honest, they probably won’t stick. That guy carries a lot of clout throughout the state, and I’m sure he’s got an expensive lawyer on retainer. He’d be out on bail before daybreak and might try to make things worse for you. That goes for your restaurant, too. What if he has his wife say something derogatory about Anything’s Pastable on her show?”
It Cannoli Be Murder Page 15