The Chocolate Kiss-Off

by Heather Haven

  “Where is everybody? I understand you’ve got sixteen people working for you.”

  “We had to close today due to the fact that somebody just died.” His answer was sarcastic and terse. “They come back to work Monday, docked for not working today, of course.”

  She closed the door, crossed the room, and stood in front of him. On his desk was an eight by ten picture frame, its back to Percy. She reached out and turned it around for a better view. Bogdanovitch smirked, but didn’t try to stop her.

  A studio photograph of a middle-aged, dark-haired woman with a hawk-like nose, small black eyes, and a smile that showed more gums than teeth stared back at the detective.

  If this was Carlotta Mendez, and the braid coiled on top of her head like a sleeping snake left no doubt in Percy’s mind it was, then Howie’s description of the woman had been more than kind. This was a real bow-wow.

  The man behind the desk seemed to read her mind. “She wasn’t much to look at, but she had a strong personality.”

  “You like strong personalities, Bogdanovitch?”

  He shrugged. “Depends.”

  “On how much money they got in the bank?”

  He snickered while she removed her hat, long red hair tumbling down her shoulders and back. She shook it out in a brisk move. More comfortable, she threw her hat on top of his desk. He gave her a lopsided smile.

  “You got red hair.”

  “Yup.”

  “I like women with red hair.” He gave her a sultry, winning smile.

  “Save it, pal. I ain’t interested.”

  He shrugged then leaned back and put his legs up on the desk, crossing them at the ankles. “So now that you seen the lady in question, let’s get down to business. What do you want? And this better be good.”

  Having formulated what she would say as she climbed the stairs, she put both hands on his desk and leaned in. “So the cops aren’t so sure Howard Goldberg did your lady friend in.”

  A frown replaced the smile on his lips. “What are you talking about? They arrested him and everything.”

  “Yeah, but that don’t mean it’s over, Bogdanovitch. If you think they’re seriously looking at Goldberg, think again. They got your number. They don’t like you so much.”

  At those words he uncrossed his legs and sat up in the chair, remaining silent. A slight look of fear passed over his features, enough so that Percy knew she was on the right track.

  “Sure. They know you were just after her money and this business, especially with your record. They know you’re a small-time hood.”

  “Hey! Who you calling a small-time hood?”

  “They also know you been schtupping that underage kid out there, forcing her to have sex with you.”

  “Did she say something to you? I told her to keep her trap shut. Nobody can prove it. Who told you that?”

  “You, you lowlife, just now. And it’s against New York State law. If I can figure it out, it’s just a matter of time before the coppers do. They aren’t as dumb as you’d like to think. They have a way of finding things out, Bogdanovitch. They got you pegged for an all-around louse. You got a record as long as my arm.”

  “That don’t mean I killed Carlotta.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s a good angle. Taking a cheap hood like you down would look good for law enforcement; better than some chocolate maker. And they got a few scores to settle with you. Like that bank robbery three years ago where a retired cop got paralyzed by a stray bullet.”

  All the color drained from Bogdanovitch’s face.

  “They couldn’t prove nothing then and they can’t pin this on me now.”

  “Maybe they can’t, but maybe they can. Maybe I’ll help them. Better you than Howard Goldberg. He’s a friend of mine. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t take the fall for this. I can be a very good friend.”

  Bogdanovitch got up and paced the room, a nervous twitch settling in his right shoulder. He rubbed it like it was an old wound then wheeled around on her.

  “Why are you telling me this? What do you want?”

  “If you didn’t do it --”

  “I didn’t do it,” he interrupted.

  “Then open the doors of this fine establishment to me. Let me talk to the employees, nose around. I want to find out who did.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “In that case, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I can make this investigation easier on you. Maybe make it go away.”

  “How can you do that? Who the hell are you, Wonder Woman? You’re just some big broad in a man’s suit.” He sat back down in the swivel desk chair and swung back in her direction. “We’re done here, lady. You don’t know nothing. You’re just on a fishing expedition. Get out.”

  Percy stood and picked up her hat. “Okay, have it your way. But you’re going to regret it.”

  “How?” He let out a laugh more nervous than not.

  “If I know coppers – and I do - they’re not satisfied. They’re going to come back and be all over this place, taking it apart piece by piece. Who knows what they’re going to find when they get an idée fixe. That’s French for a fixed idea in their thick skulls. You work with me, I work with you, we find out who did it, tout de suite. That’s another French phrase. Means pretty damned quick.”

  “What are you, a frog?”

  “I’m not French, but I know a few words in a lot of languages, ‘cause I’m a pretty smart cookie. You don’t play ball with me, I’m on my own and I’ve been known to stir things up until I find what I’m looking for. You ask around. See if it’s not true.”

  “I don’t want nobody in my business.” He licked dry lips, eyes darting around the room.

  “Too bad. We don’t always get what we want. There’s a dead woman lying in the morgue, who I bet doesn’t want to be there.”

  Percy could read the indecisiveness on him like the cover of a book. She waited him out.

  “I don’t like this,” he finally muttered. “Carlotta’s murder changes everything. I got a couple of things going I don’t need the cops looking into. I thought this murder thing was settled. The little guy did it and that was that.”

  “Nope. Too many holes. Why did he do it, Bogdanovitch? What’s his motive? Getting demoted? Thin. Now you, maybe you’re a scorned lover, or maybe you inherit this place.”

  He let out a laugh. “Not me, lady. Sure, I was working the angle but she died before I could pull it off. If it was me, I would have waited until she signed on the dotted line. Tell that to the coppers.”

  “Who inherits then?”

  “She’s got a cousin in Chicago. I’m just the manager.”

  “With a few perks that died with her.”

  “You ain’t kidding. It would have been better for me if she stayed alive a few months longer. Her being dead puts the kibosh on a couple of things I got going.”

  “So you’re just hired help like everybody else. You can be fired any time, like Frank and Sissy. I’d watch my back if I was you.”

  “What?”

  “Even if the cops do leave you alone, her cousin might decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Think about it.”

  He did. “So how much do you want? What are you going to charge me if I hire you?”

  “Not one red cent. All I want is access to the employees, their files, and your books --” She saw the look on his face and chuckled. “The legit ones, not the second set you been cooking for this place.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “You are a smart broad.”

  “Bogdanovitch, I’m going to prove Howard Goldberg didn’t do it. And believe me, whoever did is going down. That’s a promise. If you’re innocent, it can only work in your favor.”

  “Okay, lady whatever-your-name-is, you got a deal. But you stay out of my way.”

  “Persephone Cole, like I told you. Call me Miss Cole.”

  He waggled a finger in her face. “You got a week, Miss Cole. So do I.”

  “For what?”

 
He shrugged. “I’ve got to change a few things around, but let’s just say whatever I’m in it for should be done by then. In a week I just might burn this place to the ground.” He pointed a sharp finger at her. “You tell the coppers that, I’ll deny it.”

  “Client privilege, buster, and furthermore, I don’t care. But you tell the cops that, I’ll deny it.”

  He threw her a nasty laugh then let out a sigh. “Let’s just say, I don’t need them on my back in the meantime. So do whatever you want around here, just don’t be snooping into anything that ain’t connected with the murder.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s just put this in writing, so nobody questions my hanging around.” She tore out a piece of paper from her notepad, scribbled on it, leaned forward, and laid it down in front of him. “All it says is, as the manager of Carlotta’s Chocolates, you’re giving me permission to be on the premises and ask questions of your employees. All nice and simple.”

  Bogdanovitch read the brief note, shrugged, picked up a pen and signed it. He shoved it back to her with a shake of his head. “You’re one weird broad, you know that?”

  “So where were you last night, Bogdanovitch?”

  “A cool little blonde on the east side of Manhattan. A cigarette girl who can light my fire any time. Left her place this morning.”

  “She willing to say you were there?”

  “She’d better. I set her up in that hotel. I drop by to see her three, four times a week.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Helena Wilson. Dumb, but good in bed.”

  “Everybody’s got their talents. Tell me about how you make the chocolate. You always mix gallons of chocolate at one time?”

  “She said it saved time. I’ve only been doing this for a couple of months, so I don’t know much, other than it’s one big bore.”

  “Tell me about her process.”

  He shrugged, failing to see the reason, but being cooperative. “Sure. From what she told me, Carlotta took a bunch of cocoa beans she sent away for that come from different places, like South America. She blended them together, according to some kind of formula she had in a book. Then she added milk, sugar, oil, and other stuff. With the war on, the government’s been commandeering a lot of chocolate.”

  “I hear.”

  “So lately she was mixing in crushed nuts to stretch it; I don’t know what kind.”

  “Hazelnuts, probably. Another chocolatier is doing the same thing.”

  “She probably stole the idea from him. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  “Sounds like she wasn’t a very nice person.“

  “She was a good business woman. She knew how to make a buck. Nothing wrong with that. But she had a lot of oddballs working for her. She even took in this Kraut who claims her grandfather was the one who invented the chocolate formula, and Carlotta’s grandfather stole it from him. Gave the Kraut a job. Just like that. Something about keeping your enemies nearby.”

  “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. You know it, too.”

  “Sun Tzu, a 6th century Chinese general wrote that.”

  “Imagine. And people still paying attention.”

  “Back to the chocolate.”

  “Yeah. Right. The way it’s set up, every day a large enough batch is made to coat the fillings on the assembly line. Then there has to be enough to pour into molds. With Valentine’s Day coming, she bought bigger vats; planned on making enough chocolate at one time to fill any orders. The vendors were screaming for it; couldn’t get enough. Don’t understand it, myself. I’m into butterscotch ice cream.”

  “Be careful, Bogdanovitch. That’s close to heresy; nothing’s better than chocolate. What’s all that on the conveyor belt downstairs?”

  “The fillings are left out the night before, ready to be covered with chocolate when the crew gets in at six. I had to send them home today. They’ll start again first thing Monday morning. The stuff will be a little stale, but who cares?”

  “I’d like a list of their names, if you’ve got it close at hand.”

  “Sure.” He snatched at a legal pad sitting on his desk and tossed it across to her. “Cops went over all this stuff earlier this morning. Nothing but a bunch of Guineas, Krauts, and other riff-raff working here.”

  “As opposed to the sterling characters you hang out with.”

  Bogdanovitch gave her a dirty look, but said nothing.

  “Tell me about the formula.” Percy picked up the sheet of paper and leaned in. “What’s in it, specifically?”

  “I have no idea, now that you bring it up. I looked over her shoulder once, but I couldn’t read it. It was all in a foreign language.”

  “Spanish?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. All I know is Carlotta keeps it...kept it... in a small book in her safe.”

  “The one behind Blue Boy?” Percy pointed to the cheap but large picture on the wall.

  His eyebrows shot up. “You noticed that. Clever lady.” He gave Percy an admiring glance then became serious again. “But I never got near the book. When she took it out, she kept it close to her all the time. She added the mixture herself every time a new batch was made. She never even trusted Goldberg with it. She treated it like it was gold.”

  “You mean you never went into that safe when she wasn’t looking and took a peek, Spanish and all?” Percy shot him an incredulous look.

  “I don’t do safes. I know my limits. Besides, it wasn’t worth the risk. I’m not after that.”

  “From what I understand, a good chocolatier’s formula can be worth a great deal of money. If not that, what is it you’re after?”

  He sat up in his chair sharply, his right eye twitching. “None of your beeswax. Like I told you, you want to find out who killed Carlotta and clear Goldberg -- and me – you go right ahead, but keep your nose out of my business.”

  “Relax. Just curious. If you had nothing to do with Carlotta’s death, you’ve got nothing to fear from me, pal. Leastways, not about the murder.”

  Unsatisfied, Bogdanovitch stood, kicked his chair away from him with one foot, glaring down at her. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m giving you two days, not a week. I don’t know if you’re as trustworthy as you claim.”

  “I never claimed to be trustworthy,” Percy said, picking up the signed note and putting it in her breast pocket. She rose and reached for her fedora then moved to the door. “But if you didn’t kill Carlotta, I’ll see you’re in the clear on it.”

  “You’ve got two days, lady, to find out. Now blow. I’m meeting someone and it’s private. After that, I got plans.”

  Percy looked over her shoulder and gave him a half-smile. “Don’t we all.”

  Chapter Ten

  Percy descended the stairs just as Vinnie was pouring a bucket of chocolate-colored water down a deep, trough-style sink. The girl was nowhere in sight. The Italian man was fastidiously cleaning the bucket, deep in thought, as the detective approached.

  “Where’s the girl, Vinnie?”

  Startled, he dropped the bucket in the sink, where it landed with an echoing clang.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You’re a nervous little fellow, aren’t you?”

  Vinnie managed a wan smile, picked up the bucket, and began to clean it again.

  “I’d like to talk to you for a moment, Vinnie.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, which made him flinch. “It’s all right. Your boss said I can speak to the employees.”

  Vinnie gave a frightened look in the direction of the office at the top of the stairs. “Si, si, but not for long. I have much work to do.”

  “What happened to the young lady who was here?”

  “Ah! Teresa. She is my wife’s -- how do you say -- nephew?”

  “Niece.”

  “Niece. She go to school now. I look out for her.”

  You’re not doing such a hot job, buster, but we’ll talk about that later.

  “Why don’t
you show me around the place, Vinnie? Tell me what’s what. For instance, where is all the chocolate kept?”

  “The cocoa beans are below, down the stairs.”

  “In a storage room?”

  “Si. She grinds them there, mixes them, in the hiding.”

  “She kept the mixture a secret.”

  “Si. Is called formula. Very secret.”

  “So I’m learning. Who has a key to the storage room?”

  “Signorina Carlotta and the man.” Vinnie pointed to the upstairs office.

  “Nobody else?”

  Vinnie shook his head.

  “Not even Howie?”

  Vinnie shook his head again.

  “There looks like there are two walk-in refrigerators.” She pointed to one under the staircase and another smaller one at the end of the long wall tucked into a corner. “Why two?”

  “Ah!” His eyes lit up and he gave her a smile then nodded to the smaller one. “That one is more cold. How you say, frozen?”

  “Freezer.”

  “Si, freezer. My English not so good. Freezer is not so big like refrigerator, but you still walk inside. Sometimes the signorina used it for things to last long time. But the other one is every day, once ingredients are the ready.”

  “That’s a pretty big word, ‘ingredients’.”

  “I know the words for what we do, to make the chocolate prepar...prepar...” he stumbled over the word and paused, blinking.

  “But not that one, huh? Preparations.”

  “Gracie. Preparations. The words, they fly in and out.” He tapped his head with an apologetic smile.

  “So it would seem.”

  Percy returned his smile then crossed to the refrigerator under the stairs. The appliance was covered in white paint save the small, round window in the door. She looked through the window.

  “So the ingredients and fillings are kept in here?”

  “Si. First, we dry the fruit. We cook the mint, caramel, other fillings. They are stored in here until they go into the chocolate. Sometimes they wait for weeks. Also the butter, milk, cocoa powder, everything is stored in here to keep the fresh, because you must buy when you can. I do this in Naples before the war.” His face took on a happy look, lost in former memories.