Two weeks after the break-in, someone tried to burglarize Spangaro's maestro's place in Italy, he says, but again, there were no recipes to steal. Then, a couple of months later, the "technician" arrived at Arlecchino.
"He said, 'It'll only take a couple of minutes.' This was a five-month-old machine at that point," Spangaro says. "My employee called me, and I said, 'I'm gonna be right there.' It took me less than two minutes to get there because I live in an apartment building across the street - and I ran. He left 10 seconds before I got there."
Thankfully, nothing shady has happened since. A more typical scenario these days now that word's out on Arlecchino is admirers coming in to negotiate with Spangaro. Or to try, at least.
One customer, who owns some buildings in Tokyo, and has tried gelato all over the world, comes to Phoenix a few times a year. He makes Spangaro an offer every time he visits. If he agreed to it, Spangaro could get his own shop and a very large amount of money but the catch is, he'd have to move to Tokyo.
For now, he says he's not interested in the least. Let's hope he never changes his mind.