Free The Diva Steals a Chocolate Kiss by Krista Davis Page A

didn’t say
that
. We just want to find him.”
    “I’m not a private investigator.” The truth was that I would probably snoop around anyway, if nothing else, as a courtesy to Joe. It wasn’t every day that someone hired me and then disappeared.
    “That’s okay. I don’t care if you’re licensed as long as you locate Joe. We’re all, well”—he gulped air—“the truth is that we’re falling apart exactly when we need to struggleto save Amore’s reputation. The idiot who murdered Arnaud on Joe’s property better not ever run into me.” He clenched his fist in anger. “Someone must want to make Amore look bad. The irony is that if he weren’t dead, I would think it was Arnaud himself who was the killer.”
    I didn’t quite follow and frowned at him questioningly.
    “You know, to make Amore look bad by murdering someone at Joe’s house so people would think one of us is the killer. And during our big anniversary week! This will get more press coverage than the anniversary.”
    Was he worried that a member of the Amore family
had
killed Arnaud? Or was I just trying too hard to read between the lines? I could feel my jaw clenching. “Why are you keeping Joe’s disappearance quiet? I thought it was better to go public with these things in case someone saw him.”
    “Our first concern is kidnapping. We’re told it’s prudent to not broadcast anything so a kidnapper won’t know we went to the police and so that annoying copycat types won’t get involved and confuse the situation.”
    Those thoughts had never entered my mind. I could see the point, though.
    “Was there a ransom note?”
    Mitch held up his open palm. “We haven’t found one. I hear they usually make a phone call with demands. In addition, it sounds just awful, but there’s also the business to consider. Perhaps you are familiar with the saying
there is no bad publicity
?”
    I nodded.
    “It’s not true.” He held up his hands and moved them apart in the air as though depicting a headline. “‘Joe Merano Disappears on Sixtieth Anniversary of Amore Chocolates’ is the worst imaginable publicity. At least I thought it was. Turns out ‘Amore Competitor Murdered in Merano Guesthouse’ is far worse. We are
not
having a great anniversary.”
    “I’m very sorry, Mitch—about all of it. But I’m not in thebusiness of investigating crime. I’ve just gotten lucky a couple of times. That’s all.” I couldn’t possibly take money for it.
    Mitch gazed around my kitchen. “I could pay you quite handsomely.”
    By Old Town standards, my house was huge. But in comparison to Joe’s place, it was a very ordinary home. I could tell he was searching for my weaknesses.
    “I would be perpetrating a fraud if I took your money. Really, you need to go to someone who knows the ropes. There are a lot of private investigators around. I’m sure one of them would be thrilled to help you out.”
    He glanced up at the portrait over the fireplace.
    Mars’s Aunt Faye had left us the house, and I had bought out Mars’s share in our divorce. I kept Faye’s portrait over the fireplace in honor of her memory.
    Mitch cocked his head a little bit. “For Nonni and Coco?”
    Now I felt a smidge of guilt. He had hit on the one thing that I knew to be true. Coco was a wreck.
    But at that moment, Wolf knocked on my door.
    Mitch gazed at me. “What’s
he
doing here?”
    “I promised I would print out the guest list of the people at the tasting last night.”
    Mitch stared at me for a long moment. “Yes, of course. Of course you would think a guest killed Arnaud!” He sounded relieved.
    I tried to hide my surprise. Clearly he did
not
think a guest had been the culprit. So that’s how it was. He thought a family member murdered Arnaud. Was that why he hadn’t asked me to find the killer?
    I opened the door for Wolf.
    After a polite exchange of greetings
,
Mitch moved toward the door. I followed him out on the little stoop. As he left, he said, “I hope