The Chocolatier's Wife (67 page)

“
I
a
m
quit
e
familiar.
”
H
e
looke
d
a
t
i
t
closely.

“For
four
hours. Three
should
have
been
enough,
and
he
tasted
some, randomly,
to make
sure they were all right.”

“He
doesn’t
intend
to
be
your
intended
for
long, does
he?”
The
man backed
away
from
the
door,
then
turned
and began
moving
things
to
clear a
space next to his m
i
croscope.

“No,
we will be wed quite soon,”
she said dryly.

“What
made you think
I
would help you?”

“I
didn’t,
but
you’re
the
only
man
I
knew
who
might
have
a
microscope, and
I
hoped that your natural
curiosity would win out.”

She
waited
for
him to
light
a
candle,
but
instead
he
took the
almond from her
with
a
pair
of
forceps,
and
then
smelled
it.
He
frowned,
made
a thin
slice
of
it,
but
instead
of
preparing
it
to
be
viewed
under
the
‘scope,
he placed it on
his tongue. Cecelia made a
sound of disgust.

“Come here,” he said,
gesturing
to a
window. He went over
to the light, a
magnif
y
ing
lens
in
one
hand
and
the
almond
in
the
other.
“Yes,
it’s
what
I thought. Look
at the almond.
Look
how grainy
the red coloration is.”

“I’m
not sure I
understand what I’m
seeing?”

“A
bad
Halsey
almond
smells
like
rotted
flesh.
‘Tis
truly
disgusting.
And the
red
in
the
center
is
uniform,
dark.
If
this
was
a
freshly
cut,
bad
almond, the
red
would
even
leak
a
little.
This
is
dye.
You
can
tell
by
how
grainy the
color
appears,
and
the
fact
it
tastes
vaguely
of
carra bark, which
is
a common
red dye.”

She
started
to
ask
how, and
then
it
dawned.
“A
needle?
They
injected dye into the almonds to make
it look
like they were poisoned!”

He
looked
interested.
“Why? What
are
you
about? Now
that
I
have appeased your curiosity, have
pity and
appease mine.”

“You
have
heard
of
the
murder
of
the
Bishop?
Well,
this
was
at
the crime
scene.
They
are
saying
that
the
chocolates
are
poisoned,
but
they must
not
have
been;
they
were
only
made
to
look
like
they
were.
The
Bishop must have
been killed a
n
other way.”

He
frowned.
“Indeed.
And
even
if
these
were
poison
almonds, I
very much
doubt
the
Bishop
would
have eaten
them.
They
taste
as
bitter
and wretched
as
they
smell.
I
suspect
he
would
have spat
it
out
immediately, perhaps
even
thrown
up
in an effort
to
ensure
the
poison
was
gone.
There is
not
much
likelihood
that
he
would
have
ingested
enough
of
the
poison
to do much worse than,
if he were weak,
send him
to bed for
a
few days.”

“Is
it
commonly
known that
the
almonds
smell
like
that
if
not
cooked right?”

He
shook his
head.
“The
sellers
will
warn
you
about
the
pink
centers and
about
the
poison
because
they
don’t want
consumers
to
perish
from the
almonds, but
the
possibility
of
something
being
poison
if
not
cooked right
doesn’t
diminish
sales
badly.
On
the
other
hand,
the
idea
that
the
nut has the capability to smell extremely foul and bleed a vile red fluid
does.”

Tasmin shivered.
“We
are
an
odd
people.”
But
her
mind
was
racing. If William only
knew
of
the
pink,
then
chances
were
the
killers
did,
too.
The killer
had
planned
things
so
cleverly,
it
was
almost
admirable.
“Thank
you very
much.”

He almost smiled. “You were right about my curiosity.”

Dear
William,

Cecelia
and
I
have
no
choice
but to go
directly home,
but I wanted
to tell you
that
I
have
taken
the
nut to be
tested,
and
have found
that
you
are
completely
in the
clear.
The
almonds are
not evidence
of
your carelessness,
but of
a
larger plan.
I
am sure I
do not need
to tell you
more, but still will look forward to speaking upon it at
a
later date,

Yours,

Tasmin

P.S.
I
have
already
paid
the
lad
a
coin,
but
have
promised
that
you would
give
him
another,
to
e
nsure
that
you
receive
this.
I
hope
you will fo
r
give the
impropriety.

William’s mother
was
waiting
for
them
when
they
returned.
She
gave
the impre
s
sion,
at
least,
though
Tasmin
very
much
doubted
that
Henriette
had truly
stalked
the
hallway
waiting
for
her. She
excused
Cecelia
with
a
wave that
even
the
usually
cheeky
woman
did
not
argue
with,
and
led
Tasmin
to her private parlor.

“Well.
I
see you are
settling into my son’s
life quite comfortably.”

“I
am
trying
to
prove
myself
an
able
companion.
Much
work
needs
to
be done before he can
re-open his business.”

“A
confectionery
hardly
can
be
called
a
business,
dear,
not
for
one who
has
run
a
small
shipping
and
trade
empire.
But
I
am
struck by
your hoydenish
behavior. Going
out
to
see
my
son
at
all
hours,
rushing
to
his side. You are
determined to marry
him,
aren’t
you?”