“Our goal,” Gina concludes with a radiant smile, “is to prove that when you combine the finest French techniques with Whitmore’s chocolate mastery, you don’t just create desserts—you create memories that last a lifetime. One perfect bite at a time, we’re going to change how the world thinks about chocolate.”
“And now,” she concludes with a curtsy that would make a Vegas showgirl proud, “it’s time for everyone to sample our latest creations! Please, help yourselves to the dessert stations and enjoy the finest chocolate artistry Vermont has to offer!”
The crowd immediately surges toward the dessert tables with the enthusiasm of people who’ve been promised access to edible treasure, and I realize this is my chance. I need to get to Gina while she’s still accessible, before she gets swept up in the social swirl of chocolate-obsessed socialites or whisked off to France.
I make a beeline for the stage, but Lenny beats me there, materializing beside Gina with the efficiency of a ghost who’s learned to navigate crowded spaces without worrying about physical obstacles.
It’s time to make Gina sing about everything she knows regarding her deceased brother-in-law, or better yet, roar like the lion who’s about to help me crack this case wide open.
LOTTIE
The Evergreen Manor ballroom may have been transformed into a chocolate paradise, but at the moment, there’s an underlying current of social chaos as the crowd descends on the dessert tables with the enthusiasm of people who’ve never met a cocoa bean they couldn’t afford.
The classical music strumming from the string quartet can barely be heard over the increasing volume of excited chatter, clinking silverware, and what sounds suspiciously like Carlotta loudly explaining to a waiter that chocolate fountains remind her of her dating life—messy, addictive, and best enjoyed with multiple dipping options. She’s not wrong.
I reach Gina just as she steps down from the stage, her face glowing with satisfaction after delivering a speech that must have gone exactly according to plan. She spots me and breaks into a genuine smile.
“Lottie!” She gives a quick wave before reaching out and offering up a warm, tight hug. “I’m so glad you could make it! What do you think of the presentation?”
“It’s incredible,” I tell her. I might be here to investigate her brother-in-law’s murder, but there’s no denying that Gina and the restof the family know how to put on a show. “That new bakery sounds absolutely amazing. The Whitmore family is really lucky to have you.”
Lenny offers up a quasi-friendly roar. He nods my way with his glowing and glorious mane, radiating the kind of focused intensity that suggests he’s ready to help extract some serious family secrets, even if it means using a fang or two to do so.
“Ask her about the family dynamics,” he rumbles, and a few stray stars shake out of his fur. It’s sort of a mesmerizing sight. “She knows where all the bodies are buried—figuratively speaking. Though given recent events, maybe literally, too.”
Interesting.
“So tell me,” I say to Gina as we move slightly away from the main crowd, “how’s everyone holding up after Duncan’s death? I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for the whole family.”
Gina’s expression shifts to something more serious, and she glances around to make sure no one is listening. “Oh, Lottie, it’s been absolutely horrible. I mean, losing Duncan is tragic enough, but the way it happened... and the timing couldn’t be worse for the business.”
“The timing?”
“Well, Duncan had been dealing with some pretty serious challenges lately,” she admits, lowering her voice. “The company’s been under a lot of pressure, and there were some family tensions that were getting pretty intense.”
Lenny perks up with interest, and so do I. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he says with a snarl. “Ask about Bunny first. She and Duncan may have been siblings, but that woman’s been a thorn in Duncan’s side for years.”
I certainly understand sibling rivalry, but I can’t imagine resorting to murder.
“How is Bunny handling everything?” I ask with a wince.
Gina’s expression darkens for a moment. “Bunny? Well, she’s Bunny. You know she’s been running that wellness empire of hers, right? All natural this, organic that, avoid processed foods at all costs? She’s kind of out there.”
“I went to one of her seminars yesterday,” I tell her. “I thought itwas very enlightening.” I wrinkle my nose without meaning to. I can’t help it. The woman single-handedly might have lowered my profit margin for the rest of the year.
“Oh, I bet it was,” Gina says with a laugh as if she knows exactly why I wrinkled my nose. “Did she tell you that chocolate is basically poison wrapped in pretty packaging? Because that’s been her signature message for the past three years. You can imagine why the rest of the family has never been happy with her.”
“Ooh, I guess I can.”
She shakes her head in frustration. “The fact that Bunny’s wellness consultations include telling clients to avoid all Whitmore products specifically hasn’t exactly been met with a warm reception around here. Talk about awkward Thanksgivings. She actually wrote a horrible book calledDeath in a Designer Wrapper, and our sales dropped thirty percent after it came out.”
“Geez.” I gasp at the thought of my bottom line plummeting like that. “That must have been tough for Duncan.” And honestly, I’m shocked the killer didn’t go after Bunny instead—that is, if the killer is in the family.
Lenny gives a slight chuckle. “I know what you’re thinking, Lottie. Bunny has an easy target on her back. But I think we both know chocolate is a hard habit to break. She’s not a real threat to their empire.”
That thirty percent drop in sales begs to differ.
“Tough doesn’t begin to cover it.” Gina sighs as she gives a quick glance around the bustling room. “But it gets worse.” She leans in. “Bunny has been spreading rumors about us using unethical labor practices, and she’s been trying to convince our suppliers to drop us. She actually contacted our Madagascar vanilla supplier and told them we were planning to switch to artificial flavoring to cut costs.”
