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

to know that, Ms. Burnett?” the detective said, eyeing me.
    “The ring,” I replied simply, as if that would be enough for a smart detective to figure out.
    Detective Shelton turned back to the vat and studiedthe chocolate-covered hand pressed against the clear wall of the container.
    “That’s quite a ring,” he said, looking back at me for confirmation.
    “She was wearing it this evening,” I offered.
    “Yes!” Reina suddenly spoke up. “That’s Polly’s ring! It’s called a chocolate diamond. She was showing it off to everyone.”
    “A chocolate diamond?” the detective said. “Never heard of it.”
    “It’s basically a brown diamond, but retailers don’t think that sounds very attractive so they call them chocolate diamonds,” Reina said. “I’d love one, but I can’t afford it. The hundred-carat ones are pretty rare and very expensive. I think hers was cinnamon. You can get them in cinnamon, champagne, honey, cognac, or clove.”
    Wow, this lady knew a lot about diamonds.
    “I’m sure that’s Polly’s diamond,” Reina said, tearing up. “Oh my God . . . poor Polly. . . .”
    I was afraid Reina was about to turn into a blubbering mess, but she controlled herself and accepted the tissue Aunt Abby offered from her purse.
    “Did you know her well?” the detective asked Reina. He pulled out his notebook, ready to write down any details he deemed important.
    “Not really,” Reina said. “But everyone knows
something
about everyone in the food business—at least a little bit. It’s a small community.”
    The detective nodded and wrote something in hisnotebook. “Any idea how she might have ended up . . . in there?” He gestured toward the vat with his pen.
    “I have no idea,” Reina said, tearing up again. “She was a little intoxicated—”
    “She was a lot intoxicated,” Dillon tossed out.
    Reina shot him a sharp look before continuing. “She may have had a little too much to drink, but—”
    “I’m telling you, she was crunk,” Dillon said, unable to keep from interrupting.
    “Crunk?” I repeated.
    “Crazy drunk. Wasted. Hammered. Smashed. Trashed. Faded . . .”
    The detective held up a hand to Dillon. “I got it.” He turned his attention back to Reina. “All right, so she was intoxicated. How does that explain how she ended up in there?”
    “Fell in, maybe,” Dillon offered.
    I shook my head at him. The guy didn’t know when to keep quiet.
    “Fell in?” The detective repeated the words, his eyebrows raised skeptically.
    Dillon shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been her first fall.”
    “What do you mean?” Detective Shelton asked, frowning.
    Jake stepped up to explain. “I think what Dillon means is, at the party this evening, Ms. Montgomery tried to climb up on one of the tables to make some kind of announcement. She slipped and fell facedown on top of the table.”
    “A bunch of us thought she’d dropped dead,” Aunt Abby said, her eyes wide. “Then she rolled over, laughed, and asked Jake to help her off the table.”
    “After that, Reina sent her back to her hotel,” J.C. said. He held the camera up as he spoke, obviously recording the detective’s visit. Anything for ratings, I thought, even on a food show.
    “Turn off the camera,” Detective Shelton ordered. “What’s on the tape?”
    J.C. shrugged. “It’s digital, not tape. Nothing about Polly falling into the vat of chocolate, if that’s what you’re asking. Just some party footage for the Food Network.”
    “I’m going to need that tape or whatever it is,” the detective said. He nodded to one of his officers to retrieve it.
    J.C. lowered the camera. “I told you, it’s digital. I’ll have to send it to your computer. But there’s no way you’re getting my camera. There’s never been a death on a cooking show before. The audience will eat it up.”
    I stared at J.C. as if he’d just admitted to pushing Polly Montgomery into the chocolate himself for ratings. Was