Free Death of a Chocolate Cheater: A Food Festival Mystery by Penny Pike

did you find out?”
    “Not much. As soon as Polly joined them, they got real quiet and looked kind of nervous.”
    I frowned. “Did Polly say something to them?”
    Dillon shrugged. “Yeah, but I couldn’t hear what it was. All I know is, Van Houten’s face turned red and Lau looked like she’d seen a ghost.”
    What had Polly Montgomery said to the two judges to make them react that way? Did it have anything to do with the death of Judge George Brown?
    Too bad I didn’t have time to do some eavesdropping of my own. Sirens interrupted my plans. Someone must have called 911, because moments later EMTs and police officers burst in and all conversations came to an immediate halt.
    *   *   *
    Jake handled the cops—he happened to know a couple of them from his years working as an attorney. One in particular was an attractive Asian woman who wore the equipment-laden uniform as if it were a fashion statement. He explained the situation, told them Polly had left, and suggested they talk to Reina when she returned if they wanted to know anything else. With no real harm done, the cops and paramedics took off. I was ready to head home too, done in by all the partydrama at the end of a long day of helping Aunt Abby prepare her chocolate entry.
    “Attention, everyone,” came a voice over the sound system. Reina Patel was back, as was the camera guy, J.C. If he was trying to be unobtrusive, it wasn’t working, not in those baggy jeans, Avengers T-shirt, and wild hair Reina didn’t seem to notice or care, as long as he was filming. She stood in front of the band, holding a microphone, looking tired, with dark circles under her eyes. She smoothed a few strands of mussed hair as she waited for the murmuring crowd to quiet down.
    “Attention, please!” Reina repeated. She nodded to J.C., and he began recording the audience, finally focusing on Reina. With her hair limp, her lipstick faded, and her designer scarf missing, it appeared this event was taking a toll on Reina. I felt for her. The scene with the drunken judge must have been her worst nightmare.
    “Thank you, everyone,” Reina said. She glanced at J.C. as if to make sure he was recording before continuing. “I appreciate all you’re doing to make this year’s Chocolate Festival the best ever!”
    The enthusiasm in her voice rang false, but I admired her for trying. She nodded and smiled as the group halfheartedly applauded themselves.
    “I’d like to share a little background on the Chocolate Festival with you,” Reina continued.
    Seriously? I thought. Now? Wasn’t it a little late for a history lesson? Poor Reina didn’t seem to understand that the party was essentially over. But the crowd politely stood listening and sipping their drinks.
    “As many of you know, the first Chocolate Festival was held back in 1849, the year after gold was discovered in California. What you might not know is, Frankie Nudo’s great-great-grandfather, Dominic Nudo, came over from Italy to strike gold, but instead found another type of gold—liquid gold in the form of chocolate—which he sold to the miners at profitable prices. He was so successful, he opened up the Nudo Confectionary Company a few years later, and that’s when he really struck it rich. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be hosting our annual Chocolate Festival this weekend, right here where it all started. Keep in mind, the event also raises money for the city’s homeless population, a very worthy cause.”
    Dillon mumbled under his breath, “Maybe it should go to the Diabetes Association.”
    I elbowed him, hoping no one else had overheard his snarky remark.
    “Today,” Reina continued, “the annual Chocolate Festival has evolved into a two-day celebration encompassing nearly a full city block. It features more than fifty booths of chocolate vendors as well as various food trucks, plus live music, chef demonstrations, chocolate-eating contests, and of course, the chocolate-tasting