Panicked, Judy stepped backwards, knocking into someone. She turned and there stood a man in a traditional Aztec headdress and mask. Their eyes locked into one another’s; there was a frightening coldness in the two green eyes looking back at her. He shoved her out of his way. Her recently done nails scraped over a tattoo of a candy bar on the man’s arm. Judy screamed and pointed as the man ran out of the exhibition area and into the hotel. “Somebody stop that man!” Judy yelled.

She watched as the man bolted from the room.

Two hours later, Detective Frank D’Angelo, a sucker in his mouth, looked over his notes as he spoke to Judy in the nearly empty exhibit room. “Okay. We’ll try and keep this brief. You’re here for a chocolate conference or something?” Judy nodded.

“I wouldn’t imagine a murder would take place at something for chocolate. I’ve seen some freaky things at the adult video awards but at a chocolate festival? That’s a new one.” D’Angelo smiled and gestured at the headdress and mask with his sucker. “And you say the killer was wearing this?”

“Yes.”

“Had you seen this guy before?”

“I’d seen these displayed at one of the distributers’ tables. I hadn’t seen it on anyone.”

“Do you remember the name of the company?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t really spend much time at his table. I tried a sample. Oh!” Judy remembered the card. She removed it from her billfold. “It was Quest.” she said.

Tangelo looked at the card. “Officer Baker,” he said over his shoulder.

A young male officer turned to D’Angelo. “Detective?”

“See if there is a Ben Fischer out there.”

“Actually, Detective D’Angelo, he’s right here. I was getting his statement on a related matter.”

Judy felt her knees weaken. The man she suspected of murder stared directly at her.

“That’s him!” she yelled. “That’s the man!”

D’Angelo pointed his gun at Fischer and motioned for him to turn around and face the wall. Fischer, a bit confused, started to protest but Baker put a hand on Fischer’s shoulder and spun him, pushing Fischer up against the wall.

“What is this?” Fischer demanded. “My display got ransacked. I have to get those antiques back. They were on loan.”

“Yeah, well now they’re evidence.”

“For what?” Fischer asked. His voice raised two octaves.

“You know for what,” D’Angelo said. “The murder of Preston Heffernan.”

“Who is Preston Heffernan?” Fischer’s voice kept rising.

Judy hovered just inside the door of the conference room watching the scene unfold.

“A rival chocolate seller. Maybe you didn’t like the competition.”

“I don’t know what he was selling.”

“The DeLange Rum Truffle,” Judy said.

“The DeLange? That piece of crap isn’t even very good.”

“I know,” Judy said. “I tried it. Yours is much better.”

“Thank you,” Fischer said. D’Angelo kept him pressed up against the wall, but Fischer faced her. His voice and face softened. Judy looked into his eyes and as she did, her own eyes widened.

“Detective D’Angelo,” she said. Her voice was tentative.

“Yes, Miss Schell?”

“He’s not the man.”

“Not the man? What do you mean not the man?” D’Angelo turned to Fischer. “You’re Benjamin Fischer, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

D’Angelo turned back to Judy.

“Yes. He’s the man from Quest with the Aztec warrior weapons and the mask and all. But I can tell you he is not the killer.”

“How do you know this?”

“It’s in his eyes.”

D’Angelo over exaggerated his frustration. “So you’ve got what? A gut feeling?”

“No,” Judy said. She stepped closer to the men. “I looked into the eyes of the killer. This man isn’t the killer.”

“Because--?” D’Angelo waited.

“The killer’s eyes were green. Not dark like Mr. Fischer’s.”

“Excuse me,” Fischer said. D’Angelo looked at him. “Can you take your hand off the back of my head?” D’Angelo released his hold.

Fischer stepped back and shook his head. He rolled it around on his neck making an audible crack.

“That’s it?” D’Angelo asked. “Wrong color eyes?”

“Do you have a tattoo of a candy bar on your arm, Mr. Fischer?” Judy asked. Fischer shook his head. He rolled up both sleeves. Judy looked from Fischer to D’Angelo. Judy reached for Fischer’s rippling arms then stopped. “It’s not him.”

“Hold on. Where were you an hour ago, Fischer?”

“I stepped out to do a little gambling.” Fischer rolled his sleeves back down. “The DeLange guys were drawing everyone away so when my assistant came back after lunch, I left.”

“Your assistant?” D’Angelo asked.

“Yeah. Jason White. He’s a punk.” Fischer said. “But he’s the boss’s son. Kept going on how when the company was his he was going to turn it around, make it a giant in the industry again.”

“Quest Chocolates is in trouble?”

“Mr. White, the owner, filed Chapter Eleven last year. We’re in the reorganization phase. I was hoping for improved sales but the Aztec thing is killing us.”

“So if anyone would want the exclusive North American dealer of the DeLange rum truffle out of the picture, it would be him. I mean, it was drawing sales away from Quest.” Judy said. Again, all the faces turned to her. She felt her cheeks flush. “Sorry.”

“No. It makes sense.” Fischer said. “Quest Chocolates has been taking a pounding since the cacao shortage back in two-thousand three. All of the big names grabbed the Brazilian stock. Mr. White couldn’t get his hands on any of the premium chocolate and bought some from Malaysia.”

D’Angelo popped the sucker out of his mouth. “So why would Junior White take it out on a salesman?”

“A warning.” Judy suggested.

“How do I know you weren’t in on it?” D’Angelo looked at Fischer.

“I’ve got nothing to gain, detective. Quest goes under, I’m out a job, not a lifestyle.”

“So where is this guy now?”

“We were staying here,” Fischer said. “Otherwise, I have no idea.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” D’Angelo started to walk away. He stopped and turned around. “I’m going to need you both here for a while.”

“Detective D’Angelo?”

“Yes, Ms. Schell?”

“There was a man in the audience that the—the dead man kind of upset.”

D’Angelo’s eyes went blank. “You’re giving me another suspect?”