Mozzarella Most Murderous

by Fairbanks, Nancy

  After that, we all walked down the hill to a restaurant recommended by Violetta. She had eaten there with an admirer during this visit. The food was wonderful, as was the ambiance—all lattices and trailing vines in the dining room, which was reached by a wide staircase from the first floor. I felt much more cheerful, especially since Jason said no more about my misadventures.

  Epilogue

  Carolyn

  Jason was already in bed when I finished my preparations to retire. “Why don’t you open the curtains so we can see the night sky and the volcano,” he suggested as I draped my robe over a chair. I padded barefoot to the balcony doors to draw the drapes and then the sheers back. The night was so beautiful. The afternoon clouds had lifted, and the moon shone so brightly that I could see its light glimmering on the water below, while the shadow of Vesuvius loomed against the night sky. The Amalfi Coast, the Bay of Naples, they had to be the most beautiful places in the world. Not that I’d have cared to be tossed into those lovely waters.

  I turned away and climbed into bed beside my husband. “Guess what?” I said.

  “What?” he murmured sleepily.

  “I forgive you for spending all that time with Sibyl.”

  Jason sat bolt upright and said indignantly, “Carolyn, she’s a colleague, not a—a girlfriend. Did I get jealous because you spent so much time with Hank? At least Sibyl wasn’t a murderer.”

  I was laughing, but said, “You never know. She might have been in on the container-for-heroin scheme.”

  “What scheme are you talking about?” Jason asked, looking down at me.

  Poor man, he didn’t know the half of what I’d discovered. “I think I’ll go with you to France after all. Albertine’s not so bad, and presumably we won’t see anything of Charles de Gaulle.”

  “Right,” said Jason, lying down again, “and you won’t want to miss the Albigenesian Heresy or whatever it is.”

  “I’m afraid it’s over, Jason,” I said giggling. “Just a distant, but painful memory.”

  “No more storming castles and autos-da-fé in the street? That’s good to know. And I have to say, love, that it’s nice to see you in such a good mood. You’ve been pretty grumpy lately.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re always telling me what I can and can’t do.”

  “Well, I worry about you.” He pulled me into the curve of his arm.

  “And you think I don’t worry about you?” I retorted.

  “But did I nag you all these years about working with toxins, which are at least as dangerous as the occasional murderer?”

  “Point taken,” said Jason and, pulling me closer, curved his body against mine.

  It felt like old times. Better times. I guess romantic Sorrento was finally working its magic.

  Recipe Index

  Insalata Caprese

  Neapolitan Mushroom Pate on Toasts

  Tuna in the Style of Palermo

  Caponata

  A Hamburger in the Style of the Campania

  Coffee Granita

  Limoncello

  Lemon Torte

  Pork with Marsala Wine and Juniper

  Bucatini alla Caruso

  Stuffed Peaches with Mascarpone Cream

  Ribolitta (Italian Vegetable Soup)

  Torta Caprese