“I agree.”
“And despite the fact that Ricardo was released from prison recently, I don’t think he had anything to do with Frank’s death.”
“My gut’s telling me the same thing,” Zander said. “But in this case I don’t want to trust my gut because thieves like Ricardo are probably good at playing a part, at putting themselves in the shoes of the person they want you to believe they are, then responding and speaking the way that person would.”
She steeled herself to meet his eyes. Could he?Her Zander?Have loved her all these years? “When I was talking to Ricardo, I didn’t feel as if I were talking to an experienced actor playing a part. I felt like I was having a normal conversation with a normal person.”
“We never did see Ricardo’s wife,” Zander pointed out.
“You think he lied about having a wife?” Britt asked with surprise.
“I don’t think he did. I’m just saying he could have.”
“Why would he do that?”
“To make himself seem less threatening.”
“To what end?”
“To get us inside his house?”
“Under the guise of having coffee with his wife?”
“Yep.”
“So that, in actuality, he could slash us to pieces?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Slashing to pieces sounds a little extreme.”
“Over the top,” Britt said.
“He’d probably just shoot us.”
“Naturally.” Britt considered Zander’s hypothesis. “I think his wife is real. He wouldn’t lie about that because it’s too easy for us to verify her existence, or lack thereof. I’ll ask Nora to check into Ricardo’s personal history just to be sure. She’s already planning on doing more research into his criminal history.” Britt opened the container bearing her truffles and extended it to Zander.
He took one. “Ricardo’s rich enough to afford to pay someone like Nick to follow me.”
“True.”
“And he lives close enough to Merryweather to have met with Frank the day he left the jobsite and never returned.”
“Also true. However, I’m not convinced that Ricardo would have wanted to meet with Frank, because I’m not convinced that Ricardo was one of the Triple Play robbers. If he was, then wouldn’t it make sense that both he and Frank would have changed their identities? Or both he and Frank would have kept their original identities?”
“That would make sense, yes.”
“Instead, Frank changed his identity and Ricardo kept his the same.” Britt gestured from Zander’s truffle to Zander. “Eat.” They both bit into their chocolate.
The recipe had so much promise. It offered layers of flavor—complicated, innovative flavor. She could taste in this truffle the thing that made her heart beat faster, the promise of greatness.
It wasn’t great yet, though. The consistency wasn’t quite right, and this batch possessed too much rum and not enough of ... something elusive that she hadn’t figured out yet. “I’d like to hear your feedback, chocolate sous savant.”
The rich green backdrop of pine trees sharply outlined his masculine profile. “Perhaps a little too much rum.”
“Yes.” Earlier today, he’d told her he’d educated himself on chocolate because she loved it. That was something a person mightdo for a friend. Right? “I may try adding a hint of ginger to the white chocolate.”
“Will that be bright enough to contrast with the peppermint?”
She knit her forehead. “I’m not sure.” She’d created enough recipes over the years to have reason to believe that she’d uncover this particular truffle’s secrets eventually. Even so, the uncertainty of the current creative phase didn’t sit well with her. At the moment, this truffle was eighty percent chocolate and twenty percent doubt. Doubt—about Zander, about chocolate—had never coexisted well with her.
