Truffled to Death (A Chocolate Covered Mystery) (11 page)

I ran to the bottom of the stairs and yelled up to Erica. “Wake up! Coco had kittens!” Then I dashed back to get dressed and brush my teeth.

“Erica!” I went out to the hall to yell through my toothbrush. “Are you there?”

She came to the top of the stairs, in jeans and a T-shirt, pulling her hair back into a barrette. “One minute.”

“What should we bring?” I asked. “Towels? Boiling water? Food?”

She laughed. “Well, I think Coco took care of all of the hard stuff. You grab two bowls and some cat food, and I’ll bring a couple of boxes and clean sheets. We’ll evaluate what else we need when we get there.”

I drove too fast, while she calmly cut the sheets with scissors and then ripped them into small pieces. I parked in front of the Big Drip and dashed in through the open door. Gary stood at the counter, scowling. “You need to get them out of there.” His blond hair was heading in different directions, like he hadn’t brushed it yet.

I rushed right by him and went to look. He’d opened the top half of the door, so I could see over.

It was the cutest thing ever. Coco had made a nest of torn-up paper napkins, a lot of them, in the corner under a shelf filled with boxes of sugar packets and coffee stirrers.
She looked up briefly and then went back to licking what appeared to be six little brown rats either mewing, nursing or squirming. Their tiny paws seemed not to be doing what they wanted, skewing off in different directions as they tried to scootch closer to their mommy.

Tears came to my eyes as I saw the new lives right there. Coco had done such a great job, all on her own.

Erica came up beside me. “Would you look at that?” she murmured. She squeezed my hand. “Congratulations, Grandma.”

“Thanks.” I sniffed and wiped my eyes.

We stood there for a few minutes until Gary came up behind us. “Are you getting them out or what?”

Erica turned to face him. “I’m very sorry, but they must stay right here a few days.”

“What?” Gary and I said at the same time.

“She chose this place because she feels comfortable here. And it could be bad for the kittens to move them unless it’s for their safety,” Erica explained.

“I can’t have these animals in my shop,” he said, alarmed. “It’s a health code violation.”

“It’s only four days at most,” she said. “And then we’ll move them.”

I chimed in. “We’ll totally take care of them. I’ll bring food and water over and she won’t leave the closet. You won’t have to do a thing.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “This is crazy. All my supplies are in there.”

“What do you need?” I asked. “Erica and I will get them all out and you can store it somewhere else. It’s just four days.”

His face turned surly. “Fine. Get out all the cleaning
supplies and the cups and other stuff. I’ll deal with it.” He stomped behind the counter and started making coffee.

I sure wouldn’t like being pushed around by a litter of kittens and some women I didn’t know in my own store.

“We’ll take care of everything,” I tried to reassure him.

Coco hissed once when I opened the bottom door of the storage room, and then went back to her important work of roughly licking her squeaking kittens. “It’s okay, Coco,” I said quietly. “It’s okay, Mama.” I reached in and started handing the supplies to Erica, who piled them in the hallway. Coco swatted at the mop and broom as they went by.

Then Erica slid in the box filled with clean strips of cotton sheets while I got the dishes from the car and filled them with food and water. Coco was already moving the kittens into the clean box when I came back.

“What a good mom,” Erica murmured.

We waited for her to move all six and settle them in for a feeding before cleaning up the mess of paper napkins.

It was hard to leave the kittens. “We’ll be back soon,” I told Gary, who at least looked resigned to having the kittens in his shop.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

I
called May as soon as I got back to Chocolates and Chapters. She was even more delighted than I was and hung up so she could rush right over and see the kitties. She also agreed to bring a litter box with her.

Kona came in on time, looking well rested, and I followed her to the kitchen.

“How was the date?” I tried to sound casual but my voice gave me away.

She stopped in the middle of grabbing a tray of truffles from the refrigerator. “What is your problem with Carlo?”

“It’s. I’m—”

“Look, it’s just fun,” she said. “He’s an interesting guy and he likes teaching me things.”

“I’ll bet,” I said.

“Not those kind of things. Although he is great in bed.” She laughed at the face I made. “Like wine. And he loves theater. He’s going to take me to a show at the Woolly Mammoth Theatre in DC to see a drama about women’s rights in Africa.”

“I just think you should be careful with someone like him,” I said. “And not get too . . . attached.”

“I’m too busy for anything serious,” she said. “Which reminds me. Kona’s Kreations has been cranking lately. You don’t really care about the pastries anyway and Gwen’s over in Walkersville are almost as good as mine. What do you think about her supplying us with tortes? Maybe she’d give us a really good discount if we put up a sign saying they were from her.”

I hid my surprise. “That’s fine with me if it’s okay with you. I thought you liked making them though.”

“I do,” she rushed to reassure me. “It’s just fun to throw myself into something new.”

“Go for it,” I said out loud, while I thought,
I’m going to lose her
. Maybe not soon, but eventually. Everything that made her a great employee would make her a great employer.

Then I realized something. “Wait. Did you bring that up to get me off the topic of Carlo?”

She sighed. “Just stop worrying. He’s in town for a couple
of weeks and then I probably won’t see him again. Why shouldn’t I learn about another whole country, another culture?”

“Are you going to be sad when he leaves?”

“Sure,” she said. “But not laying around, eating bonbons and watching
Beaches
kinda sad. I’ll be fine.”

I
snuck away during a lull in customer traffic to see the kittens, and my phone beeped with a text. Assuming it was Kona wanting me to come back, I checked the screen.

It was from “John,” aka Bean.

Heard that the white cat might be headed to eastern US. My friend is trying to get more accurate info. Sent you an email. Be careful. B.

What? That was it? No
Love, B
. Or at least
Best, B
.

Just
B
?

I opened the attachment and read it. It contained notes about El Gato Blanco. Bean’s reporter friend was careful to note that none of the information could be confirmed. But what was established was that hundreds, if not thousands, of pre-Columbian artifacts had been returned to only a few museums in Central America over the past few years. Those museums were known
to be run by management not under the control of traffickers, and a government that supported the museum management’s desire to have their looted treasures back where they belonged.

That’s where the known facts ended. The reporter had interviewed several eyewitnesses who claimed to have seen El Gato Blanco in action. And their descriptions were extravagant tales of a man dressed in black who seemed to have the weapon and spy skills of James Bond. He participated in auctions through intermediaries and paid fortunes for antiquities that soon appeared in one of his pet museums. He beat up local looters on their way to their traffickers. He stole looted artifacts from heavily secured private collections and indiscriminate museums. He regularly bombed heavy construction equipment to prevent them from destroying entire archaeological sites for a few valuable bowls. And he was blamed for the assassination of a known drug cartel leader who had purchased some of that equipment.

No one could say what he looked like. No one knew who he was. Not even law enforcement.

And now there was a huge bounty on his head.

Bean said the guy was thought to be heading east. I couldn’t imagine that someone who operated at the level he was rumored to work would be interested in anything happening in West Riverdale. And besides, how could anyone know where a ghost like El Gato Blanco was heading? It was impossible.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

M
ay was still at the Big Drip, keeping a watchful eye on the crowd that had gathered outside the storage room, all vying for the best angle. May wore pale pink from head to toe, and I tried to figure out what she had on sale.

Gary was staring at the crowd with his arms crossed.

I wanted to elbow my way in to see the kitties, but decided I better buy some coffee first. There were a lot of empty hands in front of the storage room.

“I’d love another one of your cappuccinos,” I said to Gary and he turned to make it. “You know, it’s really cool that Coco trusted you enough to have her kittens here.”

He gave me a
you’ve gotta be kidding
look over his shoulder.

“You holding up okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “The whole town’s been in here.”

“Are they at least buying coffee?”

He shrugged. “Some. That’s the only good part.” He glared at a bunch of squealing moms in yoga pants. The others shushed them.

“You should charge them,” I joked. “Buy a coffee or pay the kitten viewing fee.”

“Or offer a kitten special,” he said. “Instead of a bear claw, call them kitten claws.” His heart didn’t seem into it.

If I were him, I’d be offering free samples. “I don’t know,” I said. “You’ve got a good thing going. Now all the shops in town are going to have litters of kittens to draw a crowd.”

“If they can figure out how to make some money off them, they’re welcome to have them,” he said, with a rueful smile.

He was coming around.

Reese arrived with camera in hand, pushing her way to the front. She was about to take a photo when May moved faster than I’d ever seen her. “No flash photography!” she hissed. “It’ll hurt the kittens’ eyes.”

Reese frowned but changed the setting on her camera.
She started clicking away and I could hear Coco hiss at her deep in her throat.

“That’s all you get.” May stepped in front of her. “Mama Coco’s the boss.”

Reese joined me at the counter with Gary. For once she didn’t harass me with questions. She barely even looked at me. “I have an idea that will help keep the crowds down and promote your store at the same time,” she said to Gary. “I can install a webcam—we’ll call it the Big Drip Cat Cam—so people can keep up with them online instead of trooping through here all the time.”

Gary shook his head. “No way.”

“Why not?” She gestured toward the crowd at the storage room door. “It’s great advertising. It’ll make people feel good about your shop.”

I backed away from that conversation and went to look at the kitties.

May gushed, “Michelle! Aren’t they darling?”

She pushed someone aside so I could join her in front. The kittens had either fluffed up a little or had grown in a couple of hours. I felt a little melty inside.

“I already talked to Gary about moving them to my shop in a few days,” she said. “I hope that’s okay with you.” Before they were even born, May had nominated herself honorary grandma to the kittens. If anyone would do a good job mothering the mother, it was her.

“Absolutely,” I said, happy they’d be so close. “We’ll just have to make sure they don’t get into the back hallway. Hey, who won the kitten pool?”

She gave me a pleased smile. “I got the delivery date on the nose.”

“That will help pay for cat food,” I said.

Reese pushed her way to the front of the line, a laptop and a separate webcam in her hand. She must have won her argument with Gary, and brought the equipment with her. She opened the bottom half of the door, pushing back the crowd, and Coco snarled deep like she was a leopard about to attack.

“That girl has good taste,” I said.

Reese ignored that, handing me a webcam with a clip. “Here, you set it up.” She pointed to the bottom shelf. “Attach it there.”

I sat down slowly, not sure Coco wouldn’t object to even me getting close to her kittens, but she didn’t seem to mind. I moved aside a big box of napkins and clipped the webcam to the edge of the shelf while Reese folded her long legs and sat down beside me with the grace of a drunken giraffe. She fiddled around with her laptop until a video of the storage room showed up on the screen.

“Cool,” I couldn’t help but say, even if it was Reese making the cool stuff happen.

“Push it down. Now up a little.” Reese directed me to move the webcam until it was perfectly centered on the kittens.

“Done.” Reese set down the laptop and stood up. “Check my website in twenty minutes and it’ll be working,” she called out to Gary as she left.

I had to give it to her. She knew what she was doing.

With one last peek at the kittens, I went back to my store. I took my laptop out to the counter and brought up Reese’s blog. The webcam was working perfectly, right beside a dozen ads for local businesses. That was why Reese had pushed Gary into the Cat Cam. The more clicks she got, the
more money she made. I hoped she shared some of that with Gary, who had to put up with the whole thing.

Then I got an email from Reese with the subject line “Hero Cat Gives Birth to Six Kittens.” It advertised the link to her website, and it looked like she’d sent it to everyone in West Riverdale. Maybe all of Maryland.

I could practically hear Gary groaning from his shop and hoped the health department wasn’t on Reese’s distribution list. The click counter on the bottom of the page was already at 540 hits. Coco was sleeping all curled up around her kittens, and I could imagine the collective “aw’s” in homes across town. Then the counter went crazy.

Erica peeked over my shoulder. “Look. People are sharing it. That’s what we want to have happen with the flash mob video.”

“Then you should add some kittens,” I said with a smile. “So, what’s the game plan for today?”

“I’m going to call Lavender again,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep, so I put in the info we learned at the theater.” She became deliberately vague as new customers came in.

I wasn’t sure how anything Farley had said would help. “What’s next for me to work on?”

She waited until the customers were sitting at a table out of earshot. “I’m on the fence about something.” She looked pensive. “Zane can’t find out much information on the River family, other than the superficial. They don’t frequent social media. Their companies are privately owned and don’t have to publicly file financial information.”

“What did you want to do?”

“I’m wondering how ethical it would be to ask Rose why she thought the art was cursed,” she said, sounding unsure.

I understood her dilemma. Rose was obviously suffering from some form of dementia. But she knew
something
about the artifacts. “We could bring her some flowers or something and see what she has to say. Not interrogate her or anything.”

Erica didn’t look convinced. “Let’s table that for now.”

“Who else is on our list?” My cell rang. It was Leo. “Hold on,” I told Erica.

“Are you with Erica?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said “We’re working.”

“I’m coming over,” he said.

The urgency in his voice scared me. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you guys seen it?” he asked.

“Seen what?”

“Reese’s blog.”

My heart dropped. “What did she do now?”

“She has an article on Erica that . . .” He stopped as if not able to explain. “I’ll be right there.”

“What is it?” Erica said.

I clicked my mouse to bring up Reese’s page again.

A photo of Erica photoshopped with the professor filled half the screen with the title
Love Triangle Murder?
slashed across it.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

I
led a stunned Erica to her office in the back hallway, where we both finished reading. The article was devastating, filled with innuendo and salacious lies about Erica’s past relationship with Dr. Moody. It claimed that Erica had a stalker-like passion for him, and when he’d threatened to have her brought before the disciplinary council at her university, she’d falsely accused him of plagiarism.

It went on to say that “someone close to the professor” noted that students fell in love with their professors all the time, especially someone as charming and handsome as Dr. Moody. But this time, perhaps it led to murder.

The blog post ended with a question that shook me even more than the rest. “Why aren’t the police cracking down on these amateurs with an ulterior motive investigating the tragic murder of a respected academic?”

“Lavender,” Erica said in a flat tone.

“Yep.” I was sure my face was red with anger. “But mostly Reese. This time, we’ll sue. Both of them.”

Leo stalked in, looking as furious as I felt. “This time she’s gone too far,” he said. “We’re shutting her down.” He limped over to give Erica a gentle hug, the opposite of the expression on his face. I gave him a nod over her head. We would make it happen.

He pulled back to look her in the eyes. “Worst day ever?”

I felt tears come to my eyes at his thoughtfulness. He was on her side, even though he didn’t know her history with the idiot professor.

Erica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, her face was determined. “Okay. Let’s go see Lavender.”

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

L
avender had made the unfortunate decision to stay at the Williams Suites in the nearby town of Normal. Unfortunate for her because the owner was such a huge fan of my Electric Currant Milks with their mix of black currants and strawberry-flavored Pop Rocks candy that she ordered a box every week. She loved the way the black currant tingled her
taste buds at the same time the Pop Rocks set off tiny explosions in her mouth almost as much as I did.

With one phone call I found out Lavender’s room number and soon Erica and I were knocking on her door. The hotel had an Asian décor with elaborately flowered blue carpeting in the hall and several large Chinese pottery pieces by the windows. She opened the door, her frog face puffy and red with recent crying, and I stuck my foot in it before she could close it again. I pushed once and she was backing up, looking around as if for an escape.

“I didn’t mean it!” she said. “Reese took it all the wrong way!”

“Really?” I asked. “You didn’t mean to tell crazy Reese those lies? You didn’t mean to shove Erica under a bus and make the whole world believe she has a motive for murder?”

“No!” she wailed. “That Reese . . . witch bought me drinks next door and then asked me a bunch of questions like she cared . . .” She stopped and her voice hitched. “Like she cared about me.” She crawled into her bed and threw the rose-covered comforter over herself as if trying to hide.

It was hard to maintain my anger at such a pitiful person, but I managed. “You need to send in a retraction. Today.” When she didn’t respond, I added, “And then we might not sue your ass.”

She nodded with her face in the pillow. I was beginning to feel a little bad for her.