It Cannoli Be Murder Page 3

  “No, they’re homemade.”

  “Really?” She sounded unconvinced. “I never would have thought. Do you work at a bakery?”

  Sadly, I’d dealt with her type before. Sylvia enjoyed belittling people she thought were beneath her. I had no desire to continue the conversation but for Gabby’s sake didn’t want to be rude, either. “No, I’m a chef.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise as she scanned me up and down. “Where did you do your training?”

  Perhaps Sylvia planned to run a check on me? I smiled so wide that my cheeks hurt. “The Culinary Institute of America.”

  Sylvia put a hand to her delicate, swan-like neck. Maybe it was to feign enthusiasm, but I couldn’t care less what she thought of me. The overhead lights reflected off the sizable diamond of her wedding ring. She glanced back at me, a smug smile in place. “Where do you work now?”

  Maybe Gino could use Sylvia in the police department’s interrogation unit. “As a matter of fact, I have a new Italian restaurant opening in Harvest Park, a week from tonight.” I handed her one of my business cards that were lying next to the tray of cannoli. There was a picture of a tomato with ANYTHING’S PASTABLE across the front, and my name printed neatly underneath it, Tessa Esposito, Proprietor.

  Sylvia gave a low snicker. “What an adorable name,” she said then purposefully placed the card back on the table. “Be sure to catch my show if you need any recipes. They’re so easy to follow that anyone can make them. In fact, I just featured an amazing eggplant parmigiana recipe last week. I hope it works out for you, darling. You do realize that approximately 60 percent of restaurants close their doors before the end of the first year, right?”

  Irritation was simmering to a boil in my chest, but I made no comment. What was the point of wasting my time with an egomaniac? Although I’d been in this woman’s presence for less than five minutes, I already disliked her. I knew from Gabby that after Preston became famous, he started touting his wife’s so-called culinary talent to anyone who’d listen. He was the one who’d managed to wrangle a job for her on the local television station.

  A broad-shouldered, silver-haired man with striking sapphire eyes and a Mediterranean skin tone approached us. Gabby followed at a respectable distance behind him. The guest of honor had clearly arrived.

  “Tessa,” Gabby said excitedly, “may I present Mr. Preston Rigotta, New York Times bestselling author and legend.”

  Preston puffed out his chest and shook my hand. “A pleasure, indeed. Are you Gabriella’s employee?”

  I noticed Gabby wince in embarrassment, but I merely shook my head. “No, I’m her cousin and helping out tonight. It’s very nice to meet you.” I hoped he didn’t ask me how I liked his books since I’d never read them.

  “A cup of coffee. Cream, no sugar. And two of the cannoli,” Preston said in a commanding voice. Surprised at the order, I started to get a plate ready, but he pointed at Gabby.

  “Of course, right away.” Gabby rushed into the back room for his coffee, while I loaded two cannoli onto a plate. She took the plate from me and carried it and the coffee over to the head of the table, where Preston was already seated. As she put the items down in front of him, he grimaced. “This won’t do. I have a bad back. A couple of those pillows I saw in that armchair up front should help. Fetch them.”

  Gabby flushed slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry, Preston. I didn’t know. Yes, right away.”

  She hurried up the aisle as I sucked in some air. I didn’t like how this pretentious man was ordering my cousin around. Gabby wasn’t his employee. I knew from my former days as a sous-chef at a high-priced restaurant that there were some celebrities who always expected to be treated as such. Well, not in my restaurant. Everyone would receive the same exemplary customer service. No one deserved to be treated better than anyone else.

  A woman younger than myself stepped out of the Self-Help aisle where she’d been browsing and walked over to me. She had long, sleek dark hair and eyes like Preston’s. “Hello, I’m Willow Rigotta.” She extended her hand.

  “My daughter,” Preston said proudly as he stretched in the chair. “She runs my website and accompanies me to all signings.” He bit into the cannoli, and a strange look came over his face as he turned to his wife and said, “Sylvia, this doesn’t taste like yours.”

  She tossed her head. “That’s because it’s not mine. This woman made it. Tina, right?”

  Really? She couldn’t even remember my name after two minutes? Maybe it was deliberate. “My name is Tessa.”

  “This is incredible.” He took another bite and dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “Maybe she should give you some pointers, Syl.” With the snide remark, he finished off the pastry, stood, and strode into the restroom next to the Employees Only door.

  Sylvia’s complexion turned as red as a ripe tomato. She pressed her lips tightly together and marched straight up the aisle, almost running into Gabby.

  Gabby handed me the pillows. “Tess, do you mind arranging them in the chair? People are arriving.”

  “Of course not. You go ahead.”

  “Well, well. Look who’s here. Hired help for tonight? Or do you just work for food?” A woman my age set a box of bookmarks down on the table with a loud, deliberate thud.

  Gabby’s face immediately paled when she locked eyes with the woman. “What are you doing here, Daphne?” She practically spat the words out.

  Daphne Daniels smiled in satisfaction. She was a striking blond with a perfect size four figure. I hadn’t seen her since we’d graduated from high school twelve years earlier. She’d left town shortly afterward, and I hadn’t known she’d returned.

  “Hello, Gabby. What a pleasant surprise.” Daphne’s light brown tulip-sleeved sheath matched her eyes, which suddenly flicked over to me. Her generous mouth, coated in frothy pink lipstick, smirked. “Oh, my God. It’s Tessa, Gabby’s shadow. I see not much has changed.”

  Preston returned from the restroom, and Willow, who was still standing next to me, tugged on his sleeve as he passed by and spoke in a low voice. “Daddy, I thought you said she couldn’t make it. Mother will not be happy.”

  “I’m your father’s publicist and am always available whenever he needs me,” Daphne said snidely.

  Willow glared at her. “Believe me, my mother knows that.”

  The word publicist rooted itself in my mind. Oh boy. Suddenly, this book signing had disaster written all over it. Gabby and Daphne had been enemies throughout high school. Daphne was the popular, perfect girl who’d zeroed in on Gabby in the ninth grade and then proceeded to torture her for the next four years. Somehow, she’d always managed to be there to trip Gabby during soccer practice, humiliate her in the lunchroom, and had once even stolen her clothes out of a gym locker so Gabby would have nothing to wear after swim class. Things all came to a head on prom night, when she’d “accidentally” pushed Gabby into an outdoor pool at the country club and ruined her dress.

  Somehow Daphne had gotten away with everything unscathed. Poor Gabby. After spending her high school days trying to hide from the queen of mean, she now had to face her as the employee of her literary idol.

  “Publicist?” Gabby asked in a disbelieving tone. Her almond-shaped eyes never left Daphne’s face as she addressed Preston. “I thought your publicist had accepted another job and that Willow was stepping into the role tonight.”

  Preston reached for another cannoli. “No. Daphne’s been with me for about four months, since my last publicist moved on.”

  Daphne sniffed. “I was working at a boutique publishing company, and I’ve been living in Saratoga for several years. Not this hovel of a town.”

  I bit into my lower lip, trying to temper my reply. It didn’t work. “It’s plain to see you haven’t changed much.”

  Preston narrowed his eyes. “Daphne will hand the books to me for autographs and take pictures of me with
my fans.” He turned to address her. “I plan to be out of here by nine, so if someone is taking up too much time, you’ll have to move them along.”

  “Of course, Preston. Whatever you say.” Daphne laid a hand on his arm, but he immediately shook her off. She looked crushed by the action, which surprised me. I’d never thought of Daphne as having deep feelings for anyone besides herself, but she seemed in awe of her employer.

  Daphne spotted the cannoli and reached for one. She closed her eyes as she chewed and let out a little moan. “Oh, this is delish!” She caught sight of Sylvia, who had returned from the front of the store and gave her a sly grin. “Did you make these?”

  Sylvia’s face looked as if it had been carved out of stone. After a few second of awkward silence, she pointed at me. “No, Tina did.”

  Good grief. I didn’t even bother to correct her this time.

  Sylvia pinned Preston with an angry glare. He shot her back one of clear contempt, and the room’s temperature seemed to be approaching a freezing level. Sylvia walked to the door of the Employees Only room and looked over her shoulder at her husband. “Preston, I’d like a word with you. Alone.”

  Preston seemed annoyed by the request but dutifully followed his wife as he nodded to Gabby. “More coffee when I get back.”

  I was sorely tempted to tell the man to get his own darn coffee but didn’t want to ruin the evening. Then again, I had a strong suspicion that might happen anyway.

  Gabby and I went into the back room, and I filled a carafe with regular coffee while she grabbed the decaf. As Gabby refilled Preston’s cup, I noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. We returned to the signing area, where Willow and Daphne exchanged a heated look, but no words. Willow looked away and then disappeared into the restroom.

  Daphne seemed not to notice or care that the Rigotta women obviously detested her. She helped herself to another cannoli and then let out a low giggle. “If I keep eating like this, I might end up looking like you, Gabby.”

  Gabby’s nostrils flared. “Look, just stay out of my way tonight, okay? This is my store, got it? And you are Preston’s employee. He’s the one I care about impressing, not you. We don’t have to pretend that we like each other.” Gabby had been a bit on the timid side in high school, nothing like her current outspoken self, and Daphne acted momentarily surprised before masking it beneath a concealed grin.

  “No, we don’t,” Daphne said cheerfully. “But in case you’re not aware, I’m calling the shots tonight. One word to Preston about your treatment of me and he’s out of here.”

  Gabby forced back a laugh. “Oh really? I find it hard to believe you have that much influence on him.”

  “Preston adores me,” she winked. “You have no idea how fond he is of me.”

  Oh boy. Too much information for my taste.

  The bells on the front door suddenly rang out, and Gabby hurried up the aisle, but not before she shot Daphne another scathing look. Daphne’s phone buzzed, and she strolled across the store to answer it. I started to grab more decaf and then remembered the back room was being used. Before I could back away, Sylvia’s angry voice floated through the door.

  “You promised me she wouldn’t be here tonight. There was no need. Willow could have handled everything.”

  “You’re overreacting as usual,” Preston snarled. “She is an employee. That’s all. I told you that I am not involved with her.”

  “Liar,” Sylvia hissed, and I was shocked by the contempt in her tone. “Don’t treat me like an idiot. I know you’ve been sleeping with her, Preston. I won’t tolerate this again. You promised all those years ago—” She broke off suddenly. “After tonight, I don’t want to see her anymore. Ever. Get rid of that floozy when the signing is over or trust me, you’ll be very sorry.”

  Hair rose on the back of my neck. Preston was having an affair with Daphne? Preston had cheated on Sylvia before? So, Daphne’s words about him being fond of her had been correct.

  A step sounded behind me, and I turned around to meet Willow’s sapphire eyes. I hadn’t even heard her come out of the restroom. Great. Caught with my hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. This evening was shaping up to be a barrel of laughs, and the signing hadn’t even started yet.

  “Excuse me,” she said politely and moved past me to enter the room. After a minute Preston emerged, completely unruffled, and started to greet his fans who were filtering through the store. I knocked on the door and then went in to grab more napkins, but the room was empty. Mother and daughter appeared to have split. Maybe it was for the best.

  When every chair was occupied and there was standing room only, Preston immediately launched into a twenty-minute arrogant talk about himself, the book, and what inspired him to write it. He then mentioned how the trade publications had all praised it highly and hinted that a movie deal might be in the works, which delighted his readers. He’d failed to win me over, though. The thought that he’d been cheating on his wife with another woman was repulsive.

  After the talk, people who had purchased the book lined up for Preston’s autograph. Some wanted pictures, which Daphne took. Anyone who hadn’t purchased the book yet went up front to see Gabby, who, from the continuous ringing of the phone and register, wasn’t getting a moment’s peace.

  As I approached the back room, an elderly woman with gray hair and bifocals tapped me on the arm. “Excuse me, dear. Are there any more cannoli?”

  I glanced over at the tray and was shocked to see that only biscotti remained. It was a compliment that they’d gone so fast. The woman looked at me expectantly and I hated to disappoint anyone, especially where food was concerned. “I’ll get more if you can sit tight for about ten minutes.”

  “Oh yes,” she said eagerly. “They were wonderful. The best I’ve ever had.”

  Music to my ears. “I’m so happy you enjoyed them.”

  Preston was still sitting at the table, a book in front of him to sign, while Daphne snapped a picture of him with a woman about our age. Willow and Sylvia had not reappeared, and I was curious where they’d gone. Gabby was chatting with someone up front, her voice light and excited. Sales must be good, and I was thrilled for her. She’d worked so hard on this event and deserved every dollar that it brought in.

  I glanced at my watch. Eight o’clock. It would take me all of ten minutes to grab the cannoli out of my fridge at home and return—fifteen at most. Maybe I should tell Gabby? She was chatting with customers up front. I doubted anyone would miss me as I slipped out the back door that connected to the alley.

  Gabby had two designated parking spots—one for herself and the other where my car was parked. Someone might grab my space before I returned, but it was a chance I’d have to take. Without further ado I started the engine, backed my car out of the spot, and drove off into the night.

  A few minutes later I pulled into my driveway, welcomed by the lamp I’d left on in my living room window. Luigi greeted me at the front door with a plaintive meow. I patted him on the head, and he followed me into the kitchen. From the refrigerator I grabbed the missing twenty-five cannoli, which rested on a heavy steel platter that had belonged to my grandmother.

  Luigi rubbed against my legs and I laughed, stooping down to pet him. “Hey, buddy, I’ll be back in a little while. I promise.” He still had food in his dish and plenty of water, but I felt like a mother leaving her child for work. Luigi flicked his tail and then trotted back up the stairs, with another meow. Someone was clearly annoyed with me. I locked the door and hurried out to my car, noting to give him an extra treat later.

  When I returned to the bookstore, as expected, another car was parked in the spot I’d previously occupied. Just my luck. I didn’t want people to see me entering the store with the cannoli, so I drove two doors down to Java Time, which was owned and operated by my good friend Archie Fenton. His Buick was parked in one spot while the other was empty. I was certain he
wouldn’t mind if I left my car there, and he knew it on sight. Like Carlita, not much in Harvest Park escaped his attention.

  The sky had turned pitch black during my absence. I grabbed the tray from the seat next to me and walked toward Gabby’s back door, noting that the dim bulb above it was on. I’d almost reached the dumpster when I heard a woman give a low chuckle and froze in my tracks. I knew that laugh. It had tortured Gabby through high school. What was Daphne doing outside? Shouldn’t she be protecting her beloved Preston from his onslaught of fans?

  The laugh came again, bitter and cold this time. “You’re such a loser. How could you even think that I was serious about you?”

  “Don’t call me that,” a deep male voice growled in return.

  Holding my breath, I crouched down behind the dumpster, praying they hadn’t seen me. The man’s voice sounded familiar, but for the life of me I couldn’t place it.

  “But it’s true.” Daphne was clearly mocking him and enjoying it. “Hey, don’t get me wrong. You’re hot as sin, but that’s all you’ve got going for you. I told you last week that it was over, so quit following me around. You can’t hold a job and don’t have two nickels to rub together. It was fun for a while, but I’ve got better opportunities waiting.”

  “Yeah, I get it. You must really think I’m stupid.” Anger was evident in his tone. “I saw the way you looked at him tonight. You’re cheating on me with the big-time author, aren’t you?” To my surprise, he laughed suddenly. “You think he’s going to leave his wife for you? Get real.”

  “That’s none of your concern,” Daphne snapped back. “And how exactly was I cheating on you? You were just a fling.”

  “It was more than one night,” the man insisted. “We were together for four months.”

  “God, you’re pathetic. You counted? Look, we had some good times, but it’s over. Now, do me a favor and get lost. And don’t go back in through the bookstore. I don’t want people to know I’m associated with you.”