The Chocolate Kiss-Off (The Persephone Cole Vintage Mysteries Book 3)

by Heather Haven

  Regina Mason flounced over to the chair much the way her sister, Sera, did when she was forced to do something against her will. They were roughly the same age, and Percy wasn’t put off by this type of behavior from the youngsters of today.

  Regina Mason threw herself into the chair, leaned to the side, and crossed one leg over the other, bouncing her top leg in a steady rhythm. Snow dripped from the bottom of the rubber boot onto the floor.

  Percy sat down and studied the younger woman who grew more uncomfortable under her gaze. Finally, the girl spoke.

  “I haven’t got all day. What do you want?”

  “I want to know about your relationship with Carlotta Mendez.”

  “I worked for her. So what?”

  “So it says here in Carlotta’s notes that you were the daughter of a friend of hers.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. They known each other since before I was born. So what?”

  “And where was that?”

  “Right here. New York. So what?”

  “We’re going to move along a lot faster if you stop saying ‘so what?’ after each answer. You’re adopted, right?”

  “Yeah. So…” Regina began to say, ‘so what’, thought better of it, and kept her mouth shut. “Lots of people are. It’s not a crime,” she added after a moment.

  “True enough. What’s your mother’s maiden name?”

  Regina turned and looked at Percy. “I’m not going to tell you. I’m not going to tell you anything more. And what are you going to do about it?”

  A smug look crept across the girl’s face. Percy shot up from her seat, slamming the nearly empty coffee cup on the desk.

  “Listen here, Regina Mason. You are within a hair’s breadth of being arrested for her murder. Some of the things Carlotta wrote about you in her files could be interpreted as a motive on your part.”

  Percy’s exaggeration of the facts had the desired effect. The smirk gone, Regina sat upright, uncrossed her legs and stared at Percy, mouth wide open with astonishment.

  “What are you talking about? That little guy, Howie, did it. The chocolate maker. It says so in all the papers.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers. Besides, new evidence has come to light. You.”

  Percy came to the front of the desk, sat down on the edge, and leaned over the girl who shrank back. Percy crossed her arms over her chest and went on.

  “Carlotta Mendez didn’t like you, didn’t trust you, and yet she hired you. That’s not what most employers do. I want to know why.”

  “She knew my mother,” Regina mumbled.

  “So you said. But that doesn’t explain why she gave you this job.”

  “I got into some trouble back home.”

  “Where’s back home?”

  “Rochester. Upstate.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “I got...I got arrested for stealing something. I went to jail for six-months. They took my kid away. She’s with my mother. I can’t have her again until I can prove I can take care of her. So Carlotta gave me this job, ‘cause Mom told her to. They’re friends. Nobody else would.”

  “That’s a pretty good friend. How did they meet?”

  “They knew each other from when they were young. They met here in Manhattan. Mom did something for Carlotta, I don’t know what, and Mom said she owed her. So when I needed help, she called Carlotta and asked her to give me this job. It stinks but it’s better than nothing.”

  “What was your mother’s maiden name?”

  “Clancy. Iris Clancy. So what?”

  “You like Carlotta? I know she didn’t like you, but did you like her?”

  Regina shrugged and looked away. “She was all right. She worked me hard, but she was fair most of the time.”

  She looked at Percy, eyebrows set low over her eyes. And Percy knew in that instant the girl was lying or leaving something important out.

  “Interesting shade of lipstick. What’s the name of it?”

  My…my lipstick?” Clearly thrown, Regina stuttered when she answered. “I don’t know. Blood Orchid, I think. Do you like it?”

  “Nah, it’s too purple for me. I like mine more orange, but that color looks good on you.”

  Exasperated, Regina Mason looked Percy directly in the eye. “What’s the matter with you, lady?”

  Percy uncrossed her arms and leaned in, breathing in the girl’s face.

  “Never mind what’s the matter with me. You’re the one on the hot seat. What kind of information did you or your mother use to make Carlotta Mendez give you a job?”

  “Who says we used anything? You got a lot of nerve saying things like that. You got a lot of nerve.”

  “If you don’t want me digging around in Rochester, you’re going to tell me.”

  “You leave me alone! And don’t you dare bother my mother in Rochester. She’s had enough!” She leapt out the chair, and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Percy stared at the closed door. “Enough of what, Ginny? What has your mother had enough of?”

  * * * *

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come on in, Alf.”

  “Somebody called and said they got something for me?”

  The man started talking before the door was fully opened. When he saw Percy sitting behind the desk, he froze.

  “You! Why I oughta --” Alf was torn between fleeing and facing the woman he had come to dislike so intensely.

  “Take it easy. Like I say, come on in. Take a load off, and I’ll give you those bank statements back.”

  He stood his ground. “What do you mean, you’ll give them back?”

  “One good turn deserves another. Sit down.” She gestured to a chair. “I’ll even give you a good cup of coffee. One you won’t see down at the local eatery.”

  Alf crossed the threshold, wary and on his guard. Half-way inside, he stopped.

  “What you mean one good turn deserves another? What have I got you want? You can’t have no money. I got plans --”

  “Easy, Alf. I don’t want your money. What I want is information. Now use your brains for once, come in, and sit down.”

  Alf obeyed and slowly sank down on the chair vacated not fifteen minutes earlier by Regina Mason. Percy got up, picked up a moderately clean cup, blew out the dust, and poured coffee into it.

  “There’s no milk. Got some sugar, but you look like a man who likes his coffee straight.”

  With a smile she set the steaming coffee in front of Alf. He stared at her, confusion clouding his face. He wrapped his hands around the cup, picked it up, snow dripping from his battered hat onto the already wet floor.

  He took a deep, needy drink, never moving his eyes from the woman. Looking like he might bolt at any unwarranted move, Percy sat down again in a decided collegial manner.

  “Relax, Alf, relax. Have a pistachio.”

  She pulled the small bag out of the hip pocket of her trousers, and tossed it over to his side of the desk. He eyed it narrowly, but continued drinking the coffee. Percy took another sip of her own coffee.

  “Here’s how I see it. You had no cause to kill Carlotta Mendez. She was your meal ticket; the golden goose. You were set to make a lot of money from her as long as she was alive.”

  He lowered the cup with shaking hands. “That’s right. I had no cause to do her in.”

  “And you have a good deal going with Bogdanovitch on the side, selling black-market food and booze that’s been stashed around here. Stuff that ‘falls off the trucks’ as they say. Nice piece of change selling them to la-dee-da restaurants on the Upper East Side.”

  His lower lip quivered. He was becoming nervous.

  “Yeah, maybe. I don’t get the bulk of it. I’m just the go-fer.”

  “Don’t worry. What you and Bogdanovitch do is between the two of you. Just to show you what a nice gal I am, I’m going to overlook the two dozen lobsters in the freezer. They’re yours for the taking.”

&nb
sp; She took the three deposit slips out of her pocket and waved them in front of him.

  “Here’s what I want, Alf. What you had on Carlotta. That’s all you have to tell me. Then I give you back these slips, you take the crustaceans, and nobody’s the wiser.”

  “I...I...” He stuttered, licked dry lips then was silent.

  “I’ll even throw in the cartons of Chianti hidden under the staircase. But that’s as far as I’m going. Otherwise, you keep sitting on this, and I’ll turn everything over to the cops. And it’s back to the pen for you.”

  “I...I...”

  “Come on, Alf. I’m giving you a good deal. Take it. Don’t be a dope. What did you have on Carlotta Mendez?”

  After a long hesitation, the words came tumbling out. “She had a kid. She had a bastard baby back when she was young. She didn‘t want nobody to know, but I found the birth certificate in the safe one day when I was --” He stopped talking and looked at her.

  “Riffling through, looking for something valuable? I know you were a safecracker in your heyday. I thought it was likely you broke into Little Boy Blue.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said with pride. “There ain’t no safe I can’t get into if I got enough time.” He leaned forward, now completely relaxed, even boastful. “I been in there a couple of times when no one was around.”

  “You in there last night, early this morning?” He looked guilty, thrown off guard. “I can see the answer’s yes. I didn’t see any birth certificate when I went through things on the floor or in the safe.”

  “She was dead. What was she going to do with it?”

  “Whereas you saw a chance of possibly making a little more dough. Why didn’t you take it before? You knew about it for at least three months.” He mumbled something. “What? Speak up.”

  “She caught me the first time, when I was reading it. She threatened to call the cops. I told her if she did, I’d blab it to the world. So we made a deal. I give her the certificate back, she gives me fifty bucks a month, and I keep my trap shut.”

  “Did you tell Bogdanovitch any of this?”

  “Naw. I told him I couldn’t get in the safe; it was too tough for me. I didn’t want him to know. I had my deal with him on the side, like I did with her. Why should I split with him?

  “Smart thinking.”

  “When I seen that certificate, especially with her pretending to be so sanctimonious and everything, I knew the gravy train had come to town.” He looked at Percy’s reaction to his words. “You surprised I found her uppity?”

  “No, surprised you know what sanctimonious means.”

  “I heard it on that radio show, Inner Sanctum. You can learn a lot of stuff from the radio, if you just listen.”

  “That’s Edward R. Murrow’s point of view.”

  “He’s that game show host, right?”

  “Newsman. But go on, Alf.”

  More relaxed, he set down his empty coffee cup and acted as if Percy and he were trading secrets.

  “You know she went to mass every morning? Every morning,” he repeated. “Her with a bastard kid.” He laughed, coughed, and shook his head. “Takes all kinds.”

  “Do you know if it was a girl or a boy?”

  “A girl baby. Five pounds, eleven ounces.”

  “You’ve got a sharp memory.”

  “I should. I got the goods right here since I took it.” He leaned over on one hip and slapped the elevated hip with his hand. Then he realized the implication of what he said. He shrank into the chair. “I gotta go. You give me the deposit slips like you promised and I’ll be on my way.”

  Percy glared at him. “Not before you give me the birth certificate.” She smiled. “After all, it’s not going to do you any good, what with Carlotta being dead.”

  “Yeah, but there’s the kid. Maybe I could...” He stumbled over his words, not sure of what his next step might be or if he should confess to it.

  “You know who the kid is, Alf, other than her name? Do you know where she is? If she’s still alive?”

  He shook his head and looked bewildered, as if he hadn’t thought it through.

  “How are you going to find any of that out? Could take a lot of digging. Now the cops, they’re good at digging. But if they find that certificate on you, they’re going to think you had more to do with Carlotta’s death than you did. You and I know you didn’t, but cops are dumber.” She sat back and gave him a knowing smile.

  Trembling in the hard back chair, Alf sat for a moment, staring hard at the large woman behind the desk. Then he reached into his pocket and drew out a shabby leather wallet. He opened it, still staring at Percy. Almost as if hypnotized, He removed a small, square folded paper made thin by time.

  He handed the certificate to Percy, who leaned forward and took it solemnly, also without taking her eyes off him. She handed him the three deposit slips. Then she winked at him.

  “Now, don’t it feel good to do the smart thing, Alf?”

  “You mean what you say about the lobster and hooch, lady?”

  “I always mean what I say, Alf.”Even when I don’t.

  “You ain’t going to tell the cops?”

  She shook her head.

  “You won’t tell Bogdanovitch, neither?”

  “Like he’s no longer among the living, Alf.”

  “Good. Cause he won’t like me holding out on him if he knew. He’s got some mean friends.”

  Not any more, pal.

  * * * *

  “Thanks for coming, Vinnie. Sorry to get you out in this weather.”

  “No, no is the trouble. I live the close. And my wife, she needs latte, milk, for baby. I go out now because soon too hard to walk.”

  “The snow. Right. I didn’t know you had a baby. How old?”

  “Il bambino di sei mesi,” he said happily. Then Vinnie looked for the words in English. “Ahh....”

  “Your son is six-months old?”

  “Si, si. Giuseppe.” He looked at Percy expectantly.

  She cleared her throat. This was harder than the others. She liked this man, felt sorry for him.

  “You named him for your friend back in Italy. Nice. How old is your wife’s niece?”

  “She is the quindici anni...ah...fifteen years.”

  “She’s very beautiful, your niece. That must sometimes cause some problems.”

  “Si, si.” Vinnie’s face took on a sad, haunted look. “That is not always the good. Sometimes...” His voice broke off and he looked away.

  “Sometimes unscrupulous men take advantage of such a beautiful young girl. “ Vinnie nodded but did not look at her. “Like Bogdanovitch.”

  Vinnie nodded again and wiped at eyes suddenly filled with tears. He fought back the emotions, but sat very still, with his head down. He let out a sob then covered it with a half cough.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it, Vinnie? When did you find out what he did to her?”

  “Maria, she is my moglie… ah… my wife. Yesterday, she come to me when I am home from the work. She is sad. She has the heart ... how do you say...breaking?”

  “Heart broken.”

  “Si. She say Teresa not go to school, but cry all the day. Then Maria tell me she see Teresa cry many nights for long time now, but never say why. But now Carlotta, she is dead, and Teresa scared. She think he, Bogdanovitch, do this terrible thing to Signora Carlotta. Maybe he kill her, too.” He looked at Percy pleadingly. “So she tell us what he do to her. She never tell before because she has the shame.”

  “What he did to her was wrong, punishable by law in this state.”

  Vinnie nodded, twisting in the chair. Anger bubbled within him until he could sit no longer. He leapt up and began to pace the room.

  “He spoil her life. This...child. He spoil her for her life. What good man want her now for wife? She is no longer a vergine. Her life is ruined.”

  “You found this out yesterday after Carlotta was murdered?”

  “Si! When I find out, I want to kill this man. I
kill him with my hands.” He looked down at strong hands, tense and claw like. “So I come back here. I no care about the job. I rather sleep in the street than work for this man. He dishonor la famiglia.”

  “So you wanted to confront Bogdanovitch.” He didn’t answer but nodded. “And did you?”

  Vinnie shook his head.

  “He no here. I wait but then can no longer. I go home to the shame.”

  “I see. Your niece, Teresa, she a good girl?”

  “She was. No longer.”

  “Not good in that way. I mean, as a person. Is she a good person?”

  He nodded sadly. “She is dolce, sweet. Always. With il bebe, always the smile.” He shook his head. “But the shame.”

  “I’m going to give you a piece of unsolicited advice, something I rarely do. Don’t let Bogdanovitch destroy your life and that of your niece’s any more than he already has. Being a good person is better than being a virgin. Virginity is just one night. Goodness is forever.”

  Vinnie stared at her in disbelief or astonishment, Percy couldn’t tell which. She lost patience with him.

  “Go on, get out of here, Vinnie. I got some thinking to do. And if any of the employees ask Monday, it’s business as usual until further notice.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Dear Diary,

  The Cole woman is still sniffing around. I don’t like this. She’s smarter than I thought. Not as smart as me, but she might be troublesome. Maybe I need to deal with her. My plans are my plans and I will not let her ruin them.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The three flights up the stairs were murder. Percy was already tired from trudging through deep snow drifts and fighting the wind from the subway station to the apartment building. Her thick boots were wet through, especially at the toes. She was cold, tired, hungry, and sad. She couldn’t shake the heaviness of what Oliver might have to face in the near future.

  She let out a sigh, shook the melting snow from her coat and hat, and tried the front door expecting it to be, once again, unlocked. This time she couldn’t push it open and was pleasantly surprised. Maybe Mother actually listened to her elder daughter and locked the door.