Latte Trouble - By Cleo Coyle Page 0,33

coffees from different regions.

Madame spoke up again. “Matt would like to call this the Village Blend Special Reserve.”

I nodded. “And did Matt tell you what his plan was for this Special Reserve?” I asked carefully, thinking this had to be part of Matt’s big kiosk plan: an exclusive coffee for his exclusive settings. Not bad, Matt. Not bad at all.

“Plan?” said Madame, perplexed. “What sort of plan? He plans to sell it at the Blend, of course, what else?”

Again I nodded, this time with nervous indulgence. Obviously, Matt hadn’t told her the rest of his tale—only the “Once Upon a Time” part. I didn’t blame him for breaking the kiosk plan to her slowly, getting her on board with the Special Reserve idea first. Madame had never expressed anything but loathing for the idea of franchising the Village Blend or commercializing its name—the most recent attempt being the rather shady business deal proposed by Eduardo Lebreaux, the Eurotrash importer who had tried to sabotage the landmark coffeehouse after Madame had rejected his offers to purchase it. Madame always believed there should be one Village Blend and only one—or, as she’s been known to say, “There’s only one Eiffel Tower, dear, only one Big Ben, only one Statue of Liberty….”

Although Madame’s employment contracts with Matt and I gave us increasing equity in the business over time, she was presently still the owner. She could shut Matt down with one simple syllable, which was why I wasn’t about to say another thing about it. Frankly, it was up to Matt to inform his mother of his plans, not me.

As our conversation continued, Madame got around to telling me about her date to a major charity function the previous night (lucky her, she was still seeing Dr. McTavish, an oncologist at St. Vincent with the sex appeal of Sean Connery), and I slowly realized Madame wasn’t bringing up the subject of Tucker and the Blend because she hadn’t yet heard about it.

I broke the news as delicately as I could, telling Madame about the Lottie Harmon party which she’d missed, the murder of Ricky Flatt at the coffeehouse, and Tucker Burton’s arrest.

“A flagrant miscarriage of justice,” Madame declared. “We both know Tucker is innocent of this terrible crime.”

Her faith in the Blend’s barista cheered me considerably. Before her comment, I’d felt pretty much alone in my crusade to free Tucker. Madame’s next words did more than cheer me up. They gave me hope.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

I told her about Lottie’s partner Tad Benedict. Although I hadn’t discussed motive with Matt, I now voiced my suspicion that Tad was maneuvering to take control of the label—a strategy that might just involve murder. I mentioned Tad’s seminar on investing—a suspicious action, coming on the heels of the attempt on Lottie’s life. Then I dropped the other shoe.

“I was hoping you would attend that seminar tonight, try to find out what Tad Benedict’s up to, whether the business ventures he’s representing are legitimate or not. Snoop around, find out what you can.”

Madame’s eyes lit up brighter than Radio City. “How exciting!” she exclaimed. “What time do we leave?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t go. Tad knows me and might get suspicious if I show up. But Matteo will attend. He’s pitching…a…um, a new business venture.”

“Then perhaps Matteo can do the snooping,” suggested Madame.

“That would be helpful. But he says he can’t. He’s determined to find funding for his business, and that’s his priority—he claims Tad promised him results.”

“What is Matteo so fired up about?”

I shrugged.

“Perhaps he’s looking for more monetary backing for the Ethiopian wet-processing?” Madame fished.

I smiled. “I’ll let him tell you about it.”

I could see she was quite curious now, but she didn’t force the issue. “I want to help,” she said. “But I wouldn’t know how to snoop around, or what to look for. Clare, I think you’d better come along, too.”

I sighed. “Matteo actually suggested I wear a disguise, but I’m sure he was being snide.”

Madame clapped her slender, graceful hands. “A disguise! What a perfectly marvelous idea.”

“But that’s crazy! I’m no undercover cop. An d…I’m not very good at deception.”

“As I recall, you did a pretty good job of bluffing your way into that Meat No More fundraiser a few months ago.”

“That was a desperate situation. I thought my daughter was in danger.”

“Don’t you see? This is a desperate situation, too. Think about Tucker, what that poor man is going through. Sitting in a jail cell, accused of a crime