Dark Chocolate Demise Read online

  Mel cleared her throat, which suddenly felt constricted like Captain Jack with a hairball. Speaking of which . . . Where was he? He’d make an excellent buffer. She glanced over the back of the futon to see that Jack still had his face firmly planted in his food bowl; so much for that.

  “Okay, here’s our file on Tucci,” Manny said. He propped the laptop on the wooden trunk in front of them, and they both leaned forward to see.

  Mel saw a file full of pictures, and she leaned in closer to get a good look. She really hoped she saw someone she recognized. The thought of Tucci going away for longer or for good was all the incentive she needed.

  Manny clicked on the file to open the pictures up. The image filled the screen, and Mel frowned. The man in the picture looked as buttoned down as a person could get, wearing a blue dress shirt, navy tie, and khakis with a belt and matching loafers.

  “He looks like an accountant,” she said. She turned to look at Manny and realized his face was only inches away from hers.

  “That’s because he is,” he said with a laugh. He turned to look at her and he abruptly stopped laughing. His gaze flickered over her face as if he wasn’t sure where to look exactly. He glanced back at the screen on his laptop.

  Mel watched in fascination as the humor slid from his face, and his features resumed his stern cop mask. Now why was that? Because of the seriousness of the situation? Because he felt the same awareness for her that she felt for him? Because he’d remembered it was Joe who had sent him here tonight? She couldn’t hazard a guess.

  “Phil Terrazo,” Manny said. “He’s a certified CPA and while the FBI has been watching him, they’ve never been able to catch him cooking the books.”

  “Maybe he’s legit,” Mel said. She forced herself to look at the grainy picture on the computer and not think about anything but Tucci’s thugs.

  “No way,” Manny said. “He just hasn’t been caught . . . yet.”

  Manny scrolled through several more pictures. Each one of the men was an employee of Tucci’s in some capacity or another. Mel desperately wished to see a familiar beak of a nose or bad comb-over, but no. She had never seen any of these men before.

  Manny clicked the mouse, and another picture came up. This one showed a slick-looking young guy in a sharp suit beside a very expensive car. The way he was posed, looking over the top of his expensive sunglasses right at the camera, which Mel was pretty sure was supposed to be a surveillance camera, made her think he knew his picture was being taken and he didn’t care.

  “Who is that?” she asked. He looked familiar but she couldn’t fathom why.

  “Vincent Tucci,” Manny said. “He’s Frank’s son. He apparently has taken over management of the family restaurant Frank and Mickey’s.”

  “I know that place,” Mel said. “I delivered cupcakes there once for a party. There was even talk about them carrying my cupcakes on their dessert menu. So, the Frank in Frank and Mickey’s is Frank Tucci?”

  “A restaurant or any cash-intensive business is a wonderful place to launder money,” Manny said.

  “Is Vincent a mobster, too?” she asked, looking back at the handsome man in the picture.

  “By all accounts, he’s legit, but we keep him on file just in case.”

  “So, that’s why he looks like he doesn’t care if he’s being watched,” she said.

  “Yeah, the rookie who took that pic has taken a serious razzing for it,” Manny said. “Undercover, my ass.”

  He clicked to the next picture. Mel glanced at it. It was a shriveled-up old man who looked like he couldn’t harm a hamster, never mind a person.

  “Don’t let the geezer look fool you,” Manny said. “That’s Tommy the Knuckle.”

  “The Knuckle?” Mel asked. “Explain.”

  “He got his name because he was an expert at breaking the knuckles of people who owed him money—with his bare hands.”

  Mel curled her hands into fists and tucked them against her middle. “Please tell me he’s retired.”

  “I wish,” Manny said with a shake of the head. “He doesn’t do the heavy lifting himself anymore, but he’s still connected.”

  “A baker’s hands are her livelihood,” Mel said.

  Manny gave her a sympathetic look, which he swiftly covered with a scowl.

  “Then maybe you should consider leaving town like Joe asked you to,” he said.

  “He told you about that?” Mel said. “What else did he tell you?”

  Manny glanced away. “What do you mean?”

  “Is he going to win his case against Tucci?” she asked. “Or is he going to lose and then spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder?”

  “His case is strong; they’ve got him on racketeering, tax evasion, coercion, you name it,” Manny said. “But the defense attorney is slippery and well connected.”

  “So no guarantee,” she said.

  “No, but I have to think Joe’s got Tucci running scared,” Manny said. “Otherwise why target Angie or Kristin or you?”

  “There has been nothing to indicate that I am a target,” Mel said. “And it could be that Kristin was the target all along, since Scott’s working the Tucci case, too.”

  “Maybe, but why would he target a law clerk’s wife?” Manny argued. “It’s much better to go after the prosecuting attorney if he’s out to disable the trial. Besides, it’s too coincidental that both Kristin and Angie were dressed as zombie brides,” he said. He gave a little shiver and Mel looked at him.

  “Are you afraid of zombies?” she asked.

  “No!” he said. He said it too fast and he didn’t make eye contact.

  “You are!” Mel accused and then laughed. “You’re afraid of the undead!”

  “No, I’m not,” he insisted. “Do you have to call them that?”

  Mel laughed. He frowned.

  “You know my people celebrate Día de los Muertos, the day of the dead, so the whole zombie thing to me is a little too close to home.”

  “You really think the dead can be reanimated?” Mel asked.

  “No, but I think their spirits don’t always leave completely,” he said. “And zombies remind me a bit too often that we aren’t always as alone as we might think we are.”

  His words made Mel’s skin tingle.

  “Who?” she asked. She didn’t have to explain; he knew what she was asking.

  “Mi abuelo,” he said. He stared across her small apartment, but she knew he wasn’t seeing it. He was seeing his grandfather. “This is going to sound crazy, but the old man loved Sábado Gigante.”

  “The variety show with Don Francisco?”

  He nodded at her and she could tell he was impressed that she knew of the popular Latin American show.

  “That’s the one,” he said. “My grandfather said it was for the comedy, but my brother and I were pretty sure it was for the hotties. Either way, after he passed, we stopped watching it. We were more sports guys. But a few times when no one was watching the television, it would turn on by itself and be tuned to that show. We knew it was him. We just knew it.”

  Mel felt the hair at the nape of her neck prickle. She shivered and Manny gave her a half hug.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said with a chuckle. “But yeah, even the memory gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  He kept his arm where it was, and Mel found herself leaning into his warmth. She didn’t know if it was the talk of ghosts or knuckle-breaking mobsters that had her so jittery, but either way, Manny’s strong arm across her back was very comforting.

  She felt him go still and she turned her head to look at him. And there it was in his black eyes, that awareness between them that made it impossible to just be pals, or buddies, or friends.

  He dropped his arm and Mel scooted back a few inches. They didn’t look at each other.

&
nbsp; “I’ve got two ghost hunting boys who’d love to hear about your abuelo,” Mel said. She knew she was babbling trying to get them back to normal, whatever that was, but Manny wasn’t saying anything so she forged on. “They call themselves the Bonehead Investigators and have a specter meter and everything. Right now they’re sort of locked in on Marty, but I think a real ghost story might divert them.”

  “This isn’t working, is it?” he asked. His voice sounded a bit rueful. Mel pretended not to understand.

  “What?” she asked. She decided to play stupid and hoped he would, too. No such luck.

  “You and me,” he said. “Specifically, me playing number two to Joe DeLaura, waiting and wondering if you’re ever going to call it with him and give me a shot.”

  “I never—” Mel began but he interrupted.

  “I know,” he said. “You’ve never given me any reason to think that you were over Joe, but you didn’t jump at the chance to marry him, either.”

  Mel closed her eyes. It hurt to know that she was giving Manny mixed signals. She’d never meant to. It was just that things were complicated with her and Joe.

  “That was because of my own issues,” she said. “That whole ‘until death us do part’ thing sort of tripped me up. So when Joe asked, I panicked.”

  “But you said yes,” Manny said.

  “Sort of,” she said. “We kept it a secret and then I snapped. Too much grief and too many dead bodies were all around me. I didn’t think I could handle it. Then when I finally got my head straightened out, I proposed to Joe, and he left skid marks. Well, you know, you were there.”

  She laughed but it was without humor.

  “You know he did it to keep you safe,” Manny said. “He walked away because he loves you, Mel.”

  Mel stared at her hands. She hadn’t had anyone to talk to about her and Joe. Angie, being Joe’s sister, didn’t really work as a confidant. And Joyce, Mel’s mother, got too emotional about the whole thing. And Tate, bless his heart, had been too caught up in launching their first franchise and being engaged to Angie to really be the pillar of support that Mel had been looking for.

  So, for the past two months, Mel had really been on her own with her mixed-up feelings, which had rocketed from anger to understanding back to anger to settle somewhere in confusion. And there she had remained, especially after seeing Joe last night and knowing that things between her and Joe were far from over. The irony that it was Manny she was talking about her relationship with did not escape her.

  “So Joe says,” she agreed. “But it feels more like being stuck. I can’t go backwards and I can’t go forward. And so I wait.”

  Manny was quiet for a while. When he spoke his voice was low, almost as if he didn’t really want to ask the question but he couldn’t help it, and so he said it softly in a half voice as if he weren’t really asking. “How long?”

  Mel didn’t need to clarify the question. She knew he was asking how long she would wait for Joe.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Until it’s over.”

  Manny didn’t ask if she meant the trial or the relationship, and she was relieved, because she honestly didn’t know what she’d answer.

  Nineteen

  Manny excused himself to walk the perimeter of the building. Mel figured it was an excuse to put some distance between them, and she was grateful. Not for the first time, she wondered what would have happened if she had met Manny before Joe had taken an interest in her.

  Then again, after her talk with Joe last night, she wondered if Joe was simply her fate. How could he have noticed her at seventeen and not done anything about it? She had been such an insecure, emotional wreck during her teen years. Capturing Joe’s attention could have changed everything for her. But she probably wouldn’t have handled it well. They’d have broken up, and she’d have been heartbroken and probably started stalking him. Yeah, it was probably for the best that he’d done nothing.

  Mel had spent more than a few hours last night rethinking that long-ago trip to Cabo. Had she gotten any feeling of more than friendship from Joe? No. Whatever he’d been feeling, he’d managed to contain it. Sort of like now. She sighed.

  Probably, even if she had met Manny first, she would have left him for Joe because they were just meant to be together. Or at least, she’d always thought so.

  Now, she was beginning to wonder. Fate certainly seemed to be testing them. Then again, she remembered her first weeks of culinary school. It had been harder than she’d thought, and she’d debated quitting, but her father in one of their last heart-to-heart talks before he died had told her that getting what you want involved sacrifice, and if you weren’t willing to make the sacrifice then you would never get your heart’s desire and be truly happy.

  If getting through this dark time with Joe meant that they got happy ever after in the end, then surely she could suffer through this time apart. Right?

  She moved Manny’s laptop to the small table and started to turn the futon into her bed. She was so tired, so emotionally drained, she realized that she didn’t even care about her relationships right now. It could all get figured out tomorrow. She yawned.

  She took her jammies into the bathroom and changed. Her oversized black Rolling Stones T-shirt and plaid flannel bottoms were about as sexy as tofu, so she figured she was safe from engaging Manny in anything other than brotherly affection. She pasted up her toothbrush and began to scour her molars, when she heard the door open.

  She had a spasm of nerves but shook it off. This was Manny. Yes, he was good looking and had saved her life and he was also very clear that his feelings for her were more than that of a pal, but still he was a professional and her uncle’s partner. She knew she could go out there butt naked and he wouldn’t lay an unwelcome hand upon her. He was a good man.

  She glanced down as she scrubbed the last of her teeth. She was covered from neck to toe with nothing tight or revealing, because good man or not, she didn’t want Manny to get any wires crossed. Not if he was staying here all night.

  She spit and rinsed her brush. She could hear Manny moving in her apartment and wondered if he was trying to figure out how to work around her bed. That was going to be weird having him working while she slept. She wondered if she should try to reason with him one more time. There really was no need for him to stay. She was fine, especially if there was a cruiser out front. No one, not even one of Tucci’s thugs, was going to tempt that sort of trouble.

  “Hey, Manny,” she said as she opened the bathroom door. “I was thinking you don’t have to—”

  Mel’s words stopped in her throat. She’d been prepared to see Manny in his khakis and dress shirt, holster on his shoulder and badge on his belt.

  The man standing in her living room holding Captain Jack had none of those things. Tall with long black hair and a wiry build, he was dressed in black leather pants and a white tank top that showed off his colorful sleeves of tattoos. In other words, he was not Manny.

  Without pausing to think, Mel opened her mouth and screamed. The man jumped and yelped as if she’d scared him. Captain Jack jumped out of his arms and scampered behind Mel. The door to the apartment burst open and Manny dove into the room, taking the man down at the knees.

  They slammed onto the floor with a grunt and thwack. On the way down the man’s eyes met Mel’s, and recognition finally kicked in.

  “Roach?” she cried. She dropped to her knees to see his face. “Oh, my god, what are you doing in my apartment?”

  “I needed to talk to you,” he said. At least that’s what she thought he said.

  Mel frowned and looked up. Manny had his knee in Roach’s back and had secured Roach’s hands behind him, causing his face to be mashed into Mel’s fluffy area rug.

  “Stop! Manny, stop!” she cried. “It’s Roach.”

  “He broke into your apartment,” Manny argued. “I’m not le
tting him blink an eyelash until I know just what the hell he thought he was doing.”

  “He’s a friend,” Mel said. She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay.”

  “This is why you’re always in trouble,” he snapped. Manny loomed over her. He looked a little wild-eyed and crazy, and she figured Roach’s appearance in her apartment had triggered every one of Manny’s cop instincts to protect and serve.

  “I am not always in trouble,” she snapped back.

  She leaned forward, refusing to be intimidated by him. The unfortunate part of this move was that they were now inches away from each other, and their emotions were running pretty high. Mel wondered if he was going to kiss her. He looked like he was thinking about it. Then she wondered how she’d feel if he did. Time seemed to have stalled.

  “If you’re going to kiss her, get it done, because your knee in my back is beginning to warp my spine,” Roach said from below them.

  Both Mel and Manny jerked back from each other, and Manny yanked Roach up by his elbow and shoved him onto the edge of the futon.

  “So, no kisses then?” Roach asked, glancing between them.

  “Shut up!” Manny and Mel said together. Roach smirked.

  “If you don’t behave,” Mel threatened him, “I’ll let him take you in for trespassing.”

  “Aw, I thought we were friends,” Roach protested.

  “Friends knock before entering,” Mel said.

  “I did knock,” Roach protested. “No one answered, I swear.”

  “Why are you here, Malloy?” Manny asked using Roach’s real surname. “How did you get in?”

  “The door was unlocked,” he said.

  “I told you to lock it after me,” Manny said to Mel.

  “I forgot.” She winced.

  Manny slapped a hand to his forehead and muttered something in Spanish that Mel couldn’t understand, but she was pretty sure was not a compliment.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I freaked you out, but I’m worried about Angie,” Roach said. “I stopped by her house to give her some VIP passes to my CD release party, but her fiancé wouldn’t let me see her. Since I’m being shut out, I figured Mel would be my next best source for information.”