Long Island Iced Tina

by Maria DiRico

  “I guess.” Benjy didn’t look too happy about this.

  Mia handed him a sheet of paper. “I need you pick up an order of tri-tip. It’s waiting for you. All you have to do is get it from the grocery store and bring it here. Do. Not. Mess. This. Up. Got it?”

  “ ’Kay.”

  To Mia’s relief, Benjy got the simple task right, returning within the hour with pounds of tri-tip. The Rotary Club luncheon was a hit. Mia was thrilled to see a website review that gave a special shout-out to the beet-and-potato salad side dish Guadalupe came up with. Mia, who snacked on a bowl of it mid-afternoon, could attest to its deliciousness. She was washing her bowl in the capacious Belle View kitchen sink when her cell rang. She checked and saw the caller was Minniguccia. “Minnie, hi? Everything okay with Nicole?”

  “She’s fine, but her mother isn’t. Tina was killed. The police are questioning Linda.” Minnie let out a loud, operatic moan. “They like her for the murder.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Minnie’s moan transitioned to histrionic sobs. Mia tried to calm the senior down. “First of all, ‘like her for the murder?’ Stop watching cop shows, they always juice things up for TV and they’ll make you crazy. And I’m sure Linda is only the first in a long list of suspects. I only met Tina twice and I hated her. I imagine a lotta people felt the same way.”

  “Messina, bella mia, you have to help us,” Minnie pleaded. “Your grandmother told us how you’re the one who solved the case of the stripper and waiter who got killed at Belle View last spring, and how the police wanted to give you a key to the city and begged you to join the force.”

  Mia managed not to burst out laughing at how Elisabetta had embellished her granddaughter’s role in helping bring a killer to justice. “Nonna’s kicked that whole thing up a notch. I’m not exactly a detecting genius. I almost got offed myself by the psycho.”

  “I’m so worried about Nicole. The stress. It could bring the baby early.”

  Despite Mia’s disavowal of her sleuthing skills, she was worried about her friend, too, and would do anything to help her have a safe, on-schedule delivery. “Like I said, I’m not Nancy Drew, but I’ll do what I can, Minnie.”

  “Mille grazie, bella.”

  The call over, Mia headed back to her office. Having successfully completed his one simple task, Benjy was released by Mia for the day. When she passed Cammie’s office, she saw someone sitting in the desk chair holding up a giant needlepoint canvas. “I got a new hobby,” Cammie said, lowering the canvas to reveal herself. She turned the canvas around to show Mia the front of the canvas, which boasted a detailed portrait of a villa overlooking the sea. “It cost Pete a fortune.”

  “I assume you plan to do your stitching on company time.”

  “I don’t have a choice. My free time’s pretty much eaten up with nail, spa, and gym visits.”

  Mia parked herself on the folding chair in the corner of the room. “I need to talk to you.”

  Cammie pulled a threaded needle through the canvas. “You mind if I stitch while we talk?”

  “Go for it.” Mia leaned back in the chair until it met the wall. “I just got off the phone with Minniguccia. Tina was officially murdered. The cops brought Linda in for questioning.” Cammie raised her eyebrows but continued stitching. “Minniguccia thinks Linda’s the number one suspect and even though I’d never say this to her, my instincts are telling me she’s right.”

  “Better her than anyone here.”

  “Cammie, that’s callous,” Mia scolded, then added, “but not wrong. Still, I’m worried about Nicole. Having her mother questioned about the murder of her stepmother is N.G. Not good. Can you do whatever it is you do with Pete to see if you can get any updates?”

  “You mean, talk to him? Cuz truthfully, it doesn’t take much more than that for me to get his attention these days. He’s all, I never should’ve left, I made a mistake. And I’m all, yeah, ya got that right and you’re not done paying for it.” She showed Mia the canvas. “Those are French knots. Made with a very expensive fiber.”

  “Pretty. Back to Linda. See if you can find out if the cops have any other suspects. Why did they bring in Linda first? I know she and Tina got into it in the bathroom here, but as far as I know, Linda made her peace with Ron and Tina’s relationship.”

  “As far as you know.” Cammie threaded her fiber under other stitches to anchor it. “Who knows how much you don’t know?”

  Mia thought about this. She’d been living in Florida during the entire span of Ron and Tina’s marriage. All her insight into Linda’s feelings about the dissolution of her marriage and the woman who replaced her were based on Minniguccia’s and Nicole’s reports. Minnie painted her daughter as a saint. Nicole was more circumspect but never indicated that her mother endured more than the usual stages of grief over the breakup. “Good point, Cam. Which is why anything you dig up from Pete might answer some questions.”

  “Give me a minute.” Cammie put down the canvas and picked up her cell phone. She tapped on it, then pressed Send. “I asked Pete for deets and added a photo of me in a suggestive yoga pose. Five, four, three, two . . .” A swishing sound indicated an incoming message. “Tina was gone before she hit the water. Strangled with a piece of ribbon the police believe came from one of the shower gifts. That’s why the police are all over Linda.”

  “Good to know. Thanks.”

  “My phone’s acting wonky. Can I borrow yours?”

  “Sure.”

  Mia handed Cammie her phone. Cammie futzed with it, then returned it to Mia, who glanced at it and groaned. “Oh, come on. Did you load another dating app?”

  Cammie picked up her canvas and resumed stitching. “Yes, ma’am. You need to get back on the horse, Mia. Or the cow, depending on the artist.”

  Mia glared at her friend. “What is with everyone getting all up in my personal life? I’ll swipe right or left when I’m ready to, which is not now.” She pressed a button and the apps on her phone jiggled. Then she pressed the X in the corner of the app Cammie had loaded. She held up her phone. “See? Deleted.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

  Mia stood up and went to Cammie. She peered at the canvas. “You missed a stitch. A bunch, actually.”

  Cammie’s face fell. “I did?” She followed Mia’s finger to the missing stitches and cursed in Greek. “Now I gotta rip out this row and start all over again. The fiber will be ruined.” She brightened. “Which means more overpriced fiber on Pete’s dime.”

  Mia left Cammie for her own office. She emailed Benjy step-by-step instructions on how to place an order and then pick up orange juice jugs. In addition to being a rare combination of sous and pastry chef, Evans had developed an interest in mixology that Mia wanted to encourage. A unique drink selection at Belle View would help distinguish them from other local venues. Benjy had managed to return with the correct meat order; hopefully a juice jug run was also in his bandwidth. Mia checked the time and began to pack up her things. The Belle View landline rang. “Belle View Banquet Manor,” Mia answered. “Be the belle of the ball at Belle View.”

  “Cute.” The caller was a man. “Is this Mia?”

  “Yes, here to meet all your event needs.”

  “I like how you stay on message. This is Castor Garvalos. From Versailles on the Park.”

  Mia reacted with surprise. “Castor. Hi. Nice to hear from you.” Considering how rude he’d been to her at Tina’s big fat Greek shower, this was a lie.

  “I feel like I owe an apology for the other night,” the Versailles manager replied as if he read her mind. “That party was what we call here a mega event. Even I was overwhelmed.” He got in that Versailles hosted a “mega event” and that he’s usually Mister In-Control, Mia thought. The rare double humble brag. “Please let me make it up to you.”

  “Okay,” Mia said, intrigued. “If you insist.”

  “I do. If you’re free tomorrow night, how about coming over to Versailles?”

  �
�Let me check my schedule.” Mia stared into the air and counted to ten. “I can move some things around. How’s seven?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

  Mia hung up and sashayed over to Cammie’s office. “Here’s a little news for you. I may not have to swipe on any of those freaky dating apps. All I have to do is pick up the phone. That call was from the general manager of Versailles. I met him at Tina’s—the late Tina’s—gonzo shower for Nicole. He invited me to Versailles tomorrow night for dinner.”

  “So he’s too cheap to take you out,” Cammie said, eyes focused on the canvas.

  “He’s showing professional courtesy,” Mia said, knowing this was a lame defense. Cammie’s comment triggered the wary, well-honed instincts of a mobster’s daughter. If pressed, she had to admit she didn’t feel an iota of attraction to Garvalos. He was a good fifteen years older than her, and on the smarmy side. Oddly enough, she didn’t pick up any sexual tension on his part, either. Granted, it was only a phone call but still, she wondered if the manager’s invitation to make up for his rude behavior disguised an ulterior motive.

  * * *

  The next night, Mia thumbed through her wardrobe and landed on her blandest black dress, one that sent absolutely no message whatsoever. She called a cab. As they drove toward Versailles, Mia decided to make the ride useful. She mimed steering, braking, and accelerating along with the cab driver. He looked at her askance through the rearview mirror. “Everything okay back there?”

  “A friend’s teaching me how to drive,” she said. “I’m practicing.”

  The cabbie’s face cleared. “Ah. My grandkid does the same thing. I’ll do what I do with him. I’ll talk you through it. Now I’m putting my foot on the go pedal.” He accelerated. “Uh oh. Red light. Now I’m putting my foot on the stop pedal. When the light turns green, I’ll wait a couple of seconds in case anyone in cross traffic runs the light and then put my foot on the accelerator. Hey look, the light changed. Ten Mississippi, nine Mississippi, eight Mississippi . . .” The driver’s well-intentioned narrative made the fifteen-minute drive feel endless, but Mia gave the kind man a generous tip.

  Castor awaited her at Versailles’ palatial entrance. He was dressed in a perfectly fitted charcoal gray suit with a blue-and-maroon-striped tie. He gave her hand a quick, weak shake. Mia noticed that the stripes on his tie were comprised of tiny maroon wine bottles. She wondered if this indicated a sense of humor or that he’d bought so much wine from a vendor that they’d rewarded him with a bespoke gift. Judging by the man’s stiff posture, she had a feeling it was the latter. “Welcome back to Versailles,” the general manager said. “Everything is set up in the Throne Room. Come.”

  Mia followed Garvalos to the elegant room she remembered from Tina’s bash. Tonight, its half-dozen chandeliers were set to dim. As a banquet hall proprietor, Mia understood the move. No need to have the lights blazing and incur a high electrical bill when there wasn’t an event taking place. She saw four tall cocktail tables in the middle of the room, each set with the kind of display she used to give potential customers a sense of the packages Belle View offered. The settings featured elaborately patterned china resting on gold or silver chaser plates. The silverware also ran gold or silver, depending which color best complimented the china on display. All of the settings included cut glass wine and water goblets. “I know you’re interested in how we operate,” the manager said, “so I thought I’d walk you through a few of our packages. We’ll start high and work our way down.” He led her to the nearest table. “I’m sure you recognize this Platinum Package from the event you attended. It features lobster, filet mignon, a mélange of the freshest vegetables. . .”

  Mia’s stomach rumbled as Garvalos continued the food tour without offering a bite of anything. They finished at an unadorned table. There was no place setting, only a bag of chips and what looked like a cheese sandwich. “Is this for a kid’s party?”

  “Oh, no, we do way better for our children’s events. That’s an example of what we feed the staff. If you’re not careful, they’ll eat you blind.”

  Mia thought of Belle View’s staff and couldn’t imagine one of them taking advantage of her. She scanned the tables and it occurred to her that there were no chairs set up. Her empty stomach rumbled again. Time to drop a hint that I’m ready for dinner. “You really set the bar high here, Castor. The settings, the food. I’ve worked up an appetite just looking at it.”

  Garvalos patted his trim stomach. “I never eat after six. But if you’re hungry, we’ve got some leftover wedding cake from an event we hosted this weekend. I’m pretty sure it’s still good.” As the manager led a glum, hungry Mia toward the facility’s massive kitchen, two things occurred to her. One, he’d never specifically said dinner when he called. And two, Cammie was right. The man was cheap.

  The minute they stepped into the kitchen, Mia was overwhelmed by a delicious scent. A man of Indian descent who looked to be in his late thirties stood in front of a stove burner stirring ingredients in a cast-iron skillet. He was clad in a chef’s jacket. Mia recognized him as the chef running the kitchen at Tina’s party. She sniffed the air, trying to identify the mix of herbs and spices. “Whatever you’re making smells incredible,” she said to him.

  He turned off the gas under the skillet. A lock of thick black hair fell onto his forehead, covering one of his brown eyes, which were the color of melted milk chocolate. He brushed the hair off his face and favored Mia with a warm smile. “Thank you. We have an Indian wedding on the agenda and I’m experimenting with my personal take on murgh makhana. Butter Chicken.” He extended a hand to her. “I’m Sandeep Singh. Executive Chef here at Versailles.”

  Mia took the handsome man’s hand, then reluctantly released it. “Mia Carina. Senior event planner at Belle View Banquet Manor. And if I knew what was in that recipe, I’d steal it for our guests.”

  Sandeep responded with a deep, genuine laugh, which seemed to annoy Garvalos, who muttered something Mia couldn’t make out, then pulled open a gleaming stainless-steel refrigerator door and removed the remnants of a sad-looking cake. As Sandeep transferred his dish into a storage container, Garvalos cut and plated a piece of cake on a leftover paper plate he scrounged from a drawer. He placed it before Mia with a fork. “Here.”

  Mia gave Sandeep’s creation a longing stare, hoping the chef would take the hint. When he didn’t, she went with a bold approach. “I’d love to sample that merga . . . mega . . . butter chicken.”

  “Of course,” Sandeep said. “I’m sorry, I should have offered.”

  He scooped a spoonful of rice from a rice cooker next to the stove, added a dollop of butter chicken and gave Mia exactly what she’d asked for—a sample. Her disappointment increased after tasting the delicious dish. She could have inhaled a bowl of it. “It tastes as good as it smells.”

  Sandeep acknowledged the compliment with a slight head bow. “I’m glad you approve.” He removed his chef ’s jacket and placed it over his arm. “I need to go,” he said to Castor. He motioned to the container of chicken. “When this cools off, put it in the refrigerator. The Ku-mars will be here for a tasting at noon.” Garvalos grunted acknowledgment. Sandeep rewarded Mia with a smoldering glance. “It was nice meeting you. Very nice.”

  Mia, now hungry and cranky, grunted an acknowledgment of her own, and the chef departed. She ate the slice of stale, almost inedible cake Castor had deposited in front of her quickly, the better to make a quick escape from the dud of an evening. Done, she handed the empty paper plate to Garvalos, who tossed it into a large trash receptacle. “Thanks for the tour,” Mia said, determined to be polite. “I appreciate the professional courtesy.”

  “I had an ulterior motive,” the manager confessed.

  He leaned in toward Mia. Please don’t hit on me, please don’t hit on me.

  “I’m interested in buying Belle View.”

  Wow. Talk about giving myself way too much credit. And also . . . what? “It’s not for sale. And
my family doesn’t own it. My birth family, that is.”

  Garvalos made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I know. Your father Ravello runs the place for the Boldano Family. But I have an investor with deep pockets. And I believe we could make your ‘boss’ an offer he can’t refuse.” Mia didn’t bother to suppress a groan at the tired joke, but Garvalos either didn’t hear it or ignored it. Instead, he waxed poetic. “What I could do with Versailles on the Water. Crown molding everywhere. A new center staircase with a solid brass railing. Sea-green and blue velvet drapes to showcase the marina view.” Mia had to admit the man possessed a passion for his job. And she didn’t hate his vision of upgrades for Belle View. When the Belle View balance sheet showed a bigger uptick, she might even “borrow” one or two of them. “I know it’s not officially on the market,” he continued. “But I’ve heard Donny Boldano is a good businessman. Considering the negative publicity from recent events, I think he’d be open to a conversation with me.”

  Mia bristled. “I doubt it. Business has been better than ever the last couple of months. None of the deaths have been linked to the Family, including Tina’s.”

  Garvalos looked puzzled. “Tina? I did my research on Belle View and neither of the two murder victims from that incident this past spring was named Tina.”

  Mia realized that the police had yet to publicly identify Tina as the body in the water, waiting until the family was notified. Judging by Minnie’s panicked telephone call, the family now knew, so sharing the name wasn’t a violation of privacy. “There’s been a third . . . incident. The body of a woman was found floating in the marina. It’s the woman who hosted the party here that I came to. Her name is—was—Tina Iles-Karras.”