Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction!

by Lizz Lund

  “Here!” Bauser said and thrust the spatula and towel at Ethel. He lifted a chin to Norman to follow. Norman sighed and trudged.” Just when you think you have a bonafide hooky day,” he mumbled.

  “Wait a minute. Where are you going?” I asked.

  “We’re going to listen to How-weird’s missive. We’ll give you a full report.”

  “Uh, don’t you think I should listen to my own messages?”

  “No,” they said in unison, and thumped upstairs.

  Fifteen minutes and another lifetime later, they were back downstairs in the kitchen, while Ethel and I had practiced the ill-advised art of El Hombre pierogie production. There were about four dozen pierogies heaped on the platter in front of us.

  I, at least, felt more relaxed. Bauser and Norman looked a little grey. So did Ike, who’d followed down after them.

  “Geez, your boss is mean,” Ike said. I shrugged. Then he added thoughtfully, “Well, at least he’s not your boss anymore,” and helped himself to a heaping of pierogies on a plate. “Hey, got any salsa?”

  I looked at Bauser and Norman. Norman looked down. Bauser shrugged. “You’re probably not alone, if it makes you feel any better,” Bauser said.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “He made reference to your ‘slacker buddy’,” Bauser said. “Me.”

  “So?”

  “And how you’re out on your ass. Like me.”

  “Oh.”

  Vito waltzed back in the door with a large tray and a grin. But one look at us and his entire face fell. “Geez, who died?” he asked.

  We filled him in on the casualties.

  “Ugh,” Vito said. “The slob. Who needs him, right? Ya know, just the other night your Ma and Mu and me was talking about how you were too good for that job anyways.”

  “The other night?” I asked, then mentally pinched myself. If I really didn’t want to know anything, I had to stop being so damn inquisitive.

  “Yeah, I thought I should go over to Mu’s to see how the girls were doing after the fire and all. And we had a nice time looking at paint swatches,” he said.

  I-don’t-wanna-know, I-don’t-wanna-know, I-don’t-wanna-know, I mantra’d to myself and banged my heels together three times. Planet pain came back into focus and shot the taut nerve in my heel back up to my shoulder, neck and noggin. But I was still here, and actually wishing I was in Kansas. Ouch.

  “I’ve always felt Mina’s talents were wasted at EEJIT,” Norman said simply. “I’ll miss working with you, and How-weird’s an ass. But you’ll be happier,” he finished.

  I thought about it. “Yeah, I’ll be happier without How-weird,” I said. “But I doubt I’ll be happier without a paycheck.”

  “Details, details,” Vito said. “If money’s your only problem, you ain’t got no problems.”

  Spoken like someone who’d never had to eat Insta-Noodles to pay the rent. But I was grateful for the nods of encouragement and mazel tovs at my termination.

  “Well, looks like I got this stuff just in time,” Vito said, settling his tray on the counter. “Nothing like celebrating the prospect of a new venture than with a Hawaiian Orchid.”

  He lined up a bottle of medium-okay champagne, a can of crushed pineapple, a can of mango nectar and a small jar filled with what I feared could double as turpentine. He gave the champagne to Norman to open. Bauser took it away. Then Vito dug around and pulled out my mini-Cuisinart which I hadn’t used since I tried to curb the catering disorder.

  “HAWIANN ORCHID – a little something what helps to take the taste of termination out of your throat,” Vito said. Here goes:

  1 can crushed pineapple

  8 oz. mango nectar

  8 ice cubes

  1 bottle okay-ish champagne (don’t waste the good stuff on this)

  1 sugar cube per glass

  1 dash Angostura bitters per glass

  1/8 tsp rosemary

  Rum

  Put 1 sugar cube per glass. Drop Angostura bitters. Dash tsp. rosemary. Mix in 1 shot rum. Muddle. Combine pineapple, mango nectar and ice cubes into food processor/blender and mix until frothy. Pour about 2 shots fruit blender combination onto rum mixture. Mix gently. Pour in champagne and mix gently. Toast and drink to the past tense of a dead end and ALOHA to the future. Note: the drink probably will look a lot nicer in an actual wine or champagne glass, as opposed to the coffee mugs we used.

  “Looks like it’s the beginning of the beginning,” Vito said.

  “Or the end of the end,” Norman said.

  “Well, here’s looking up your address,” Vito said, and we all clunked our coffee mugs together. Except for Ethel, who clunked her glass of milk. I made a mental note to point her toward the hall closet and her pregnancy test kits quick, for the next time she had to pee. Which I hoped would be soon. And often.

  “You know, I bet these look a lot nicer in glasses,” Norman mused.

  “What happened to the classy glasses you had the other night?” Vito asked.

  “K.‘s,” I answered.

  “That explains it,” he said and sipped. “So now what are you gonna do?”

  “Apply for unemployment, I guess,” I said.

  “No, I mean what are you gonna do about the Burning Buy-A-Lots?” he asked. I shrugged.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Except I’m going to have to get these insurance papers back to EEJIT.”

  Bauser stared. “Actually, ignoring EEJIT’s and Buy-A-Lots mutual problem probably is not an option,” he said. “Remember what we talked about before? Whoever’s burning Buy-A-Lots has probably been konking you on the noggin.”

  “And burning my house,” Vito added. Bauser nodded.

  “Assuming this is a reasonable deduction,” Norman began, “Mina should be somewhat safe now. Since whoever connected her with EEJIT and Buy-A-Lots will realize she’s out of the corporate picture, they should shift their sights. Unless of course it’s some kind of personal vendetta.” Great. Personal vendettas. Am I lucky, or what?

  “Well, ya know what they say. The only thing worse than getting a punch in the mouth is waiting for it,” Vito said, finishing up his drink. “So there’s no use in worrying about something until it happens.”

  We all clunked mugs again and agreed. After all this clunking, I was kind of glad my nice glasses were a thing of the past.

  I leaned against the threshold to my kitchen and wished some genius computer nerd had invented an ‘undo’ button for life. Except that I’d probably end up smacking ‘undo’ back up to the day Ma first saw Dad. Goes to show ya. I readjusted my stance and tried to make my attitude shift along with it. Ethel looked me over.

  “You know, you really need to do something about how you deal with stress,” she said.

  I glared back at her warmly. “That’s why I go to Snappy Hours,” I said.

  Ethel opened her mouth, thought better of it, and closed it. Ike chewed on more beanie pierogies. “Hey, these aren’t half bad. And I do feel better. Thanks, Vito,” he said.

  Vito looked Ike up and down, looked over at Ethel and shrugged. “No problemo. A person can’t be all lousy if they’re Hansel and Gretel’s dad,” he said.

  “Well, I still have to get these papers back to EEJIT,” I said, rifling around the dining room for where Ma or Mu had stashed them. I found the envelope tucked inside the bookcase. “And I still need to talk to the police about my purse. And my car. And the insurance people. And the credit card people. And get a new driver’s license. And bank card. And…” I trailed off: the day was mostly gone and I still had a few hundred people or so to argue with. And I still didn’t have a car. I mean, I had my car, but I didn’t have my keys. And that also meant whoever had my car keys, in my pocketbook, also had the keys to my house. Great. Just what I needed. More unexpected guests.

  I was tossing around the options of asking Bauser or Vito for a ride, when Trixie rushed into the kitchen. She tried to give us the heads up, as Ap
pletree strolled in right behind her.

  “Hey, are we celebrating or mourning?” Appletree asked, eyeing the empty champagne bottle and pitcher of Hawaiian Orchids. He shook his head. “Looks like an Irish wake.” Then he continued, “But I got good news, anyway,” and held up my purse.

  Vito, Bauser, Norman, Ike and Ethel contributed individual cheers, with and without Hawaiian Orchids. Vinnie grred a, “Gratch-laash-ions,” and the Ratties sat pretty.

  I took my purse and looked at it. It looked really, really clean. “We had to dust it for fingerprints,” Appletree said. Oh. Well that explained that, then. But everything, including my wallet and its contents were there.

  “You think I’m okay to use everything as is?” I asked.

  “Yep. Because we got it right off of her,” he said.

  “Her?” Bauser, Norman and Vito asked collectively.

  “Yep; got her down at the station right now. Mina, do you know a Helena Pryz… Prychnitch… Pryzchntchynzski?”

  “Gezundheit,” Ike said.

  We all looked at each other. Except for Vito, because his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted in the middle of my kitchen floor.

  Luckily for Vito, he had a crowd around him; otherwise he would’ve joined the Konked Noggin Club. Unluckily, Bauser and Norman and Ike broke his fall and kind of got a little squished.

  Trixie rummaged around in her handbag and pulled out a tube of smelling salts and held them under Vito’s nose. After a few dozen seconds he came to, looked around and blinked his eyes. “What happened?” he asked, rolling over. The fellas scrambled out quickly.

  “Well, I was just about to ask Mina if she knew the gal we caught with her purse. Her name is –”

  “Not important,” Trixie cut across, eyeing Vito’s face as its color began to drain all over again. He looked close to another faint. “After all, Mina’s got her purse and wallet and stuff back, and none of it was used, right?” Trixie leaned into Appletree.

  “Well, yeah, but –”

  “And that’s the main thing, right?”

  “Well, that and assuming Mina is pressing charges,” Appletree finished.

  Vito rubbed his head. “Is that really necessary, officer? I mean, Mina’s got her stuff back. Maybe it was just a case of mistaken identity,” he said.

  “Nope, there’s no mistake about it. Her ID has Helena Pryz… Prychchitch…. Pryzchntchynzski all over it.”

  “Bless you,” Ike said.

  Vito swallowed hard. “Actually, I meant the identity about the handbag. Maybe this kid has one that looks just like Mina’s?”

  Appletree stared at Vito. Trixie rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, well, uh, maybe,” she said, whilst simultaneously backing down the hall and toward the front door. “Hey, I almost forgot; I’m late for something,” Trixie faked. Appletree stared back at her. “Would you mind moving your cop car? You’re kind of parked behind me,” she said.

  “I thought you just got here?” Appletree asked.

  “Yeah, but I forgot something that I’m late for now,” she fibbed.

  Appletree shrugged and handed me his card. “Give me a call in a couple hours, so we know where we’re going with this. I have to know if we’re hanging onto this kid, or letting her go,” he said, and exited, shaking his head.

  Vito sat up and put his head in his hands. “That’s it. I’m cooked,” he sighed.

  “How do you mean?” Bauser asked.

  “Helena’s my niece.”

  “So?” Ike asked, munching on another pierogie. We all looked at him. Then I realized he’d been asleep during Vito’s midnight confession. I looked at Ethel.

  “I’ll fill you in later, Ikey,” she said. Ike shrugged and chewed.

  “If she spills the beans about me, I’m toast,” Vito said.

  “Why would she do that?” Ethel asked.

  “I’m guessing she’s pretty sore at me. On account of I’m the one who put her boyfriend in jail.”

  “Her boyfriend?” I asked. I had to – some things you just can’t help.

  “Yeah.” Vito sighed. “Mickey the Mouse. He was one of the young Turks I fingered.”

  “Mickey the Mouse?”

  “Yeah, on account of he really likes a good cheddar. And he was also a bit of a pest,” Vito said. “Anyway, Mickey the Mouse wasn’t a bad kid. I guess he wanted to make a name for himself, but there was no way he was gonna fit into our family.”

  “You mean he’s not Polish?”

  “Worse: he’s Irish.” Vito shook his head. “If he’d wanted to really join the mob, he should have gone with his own family into politics.” We all nodded in agreement. Clearly, Mickey O’Mouse was confused. “We should have taken him under our wing. Instead we kept trying to get him into something legitimate. Like shoe sales. You have any idea how much dough is in ladies shoes?”

  Ethel and I nodded energetically. Our personal shoe hero, besides Ma and Mu, was Imelda Marcos. All legends.

  “Next thing you know, he’s talking big about the New York Italian family. It all went down the sewer pipe from there.

  “I always thought Helena had a thing for Mickey, ever since their first Halloween in kindergarten. Helena got all dressed up as the Good Fairy and she wanted a wand. So I made one for her out of a 3/4” dowel, and jigsawwed a star out of plywood. Painted it silver with glitter and everything. We stopped by Mickey’s house for tricks or treats – you know, just to be polite and all. And because Helena kept bugging me. Mickey shows up at the door dressed like a little devil, with plastic red horns and a little red tail. Helena tried to whack him, straight off.” He smiled.

  Ethel gasped. “Your niece tried to kill him?”

  “No, no, no. She whacked him with her wand. Which probably kind of hurt on account of the dowel and wooden star and such,” Vito answered. “Why would you think she tried to kill him?”

  “You said she whacked him.”

  “You’ve been watching too much TV,” Vito tutted. He took a pause and sighed. “Yup, those were the good old days, back when I knew my little Helena-noosh loved her Uncle Vlad. I mean Vito.” He sniffed. I rolled my eyes and grabbed some paper towels and forked them over to him. He nodded thanks and blew his nose. “Anyways, when Mickey got into trouble, Helena got pretty upset. Then my brother sent her off to visit our dead aunt in Vermont.”

  Ethel stared at Vito wide-eyed. “You mean her family sent her away?” she asked.

  Vito shrugged. “Pieotre, my brother, wasn’t all that keen on Mickey either. Especially as he’d been seeing a lot more of him hanging around Helena. I can’t says I blame him,” he said. “Mickey could really be a pest,” he added. Not to mention the extra supply of cheese, I thought.

  “Anyways, that was the last I heard of my niece before I left. And I don’t know why, but Pieotre was pretty much avoiding me.” Vito grimaced. “Which was pretty unlucky on account of having to leave town unexpectedly, sort of planned for like and all, because I couldn’t get the chance to tell him goodbye.” He sniffed again. I handed him the full roll of paper towels. “I always worried about leaving him with sore feelings and such.”

  Bauser got up and handed Vito a half a mug of Hawaiian Orchid. Vito nodded thanks and gulped. Norman held out his towel, which Vito took for comfort, eyes tearing up again. “Yous sees what I means? You kids are really swell,” he said sniffily, and sipped some more. I was just glad he didn’t blow his nose in Norman’s towel.

  “Okay, so now what am I supposed to do about Helena and Officer Appletree?” I asked. “It’s not like I’m going to press charges against Vito’s niece. I mean, I got my purse back, that’s the main point.”

  Vito shook his head. “It don’t matter. Charges or no charges, Helena’s gonna blab. I’m pretty sure of that. And Federal protection or not, there might be a few outstanding, err… disagreements I’ve had with the police. In the past, I mean,” he added quickly. “Then again,” he continued, “if you ch
anged your head and decided to press charges, that could get pretty bad too.”

  “How do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, you might have the Moils out of Bumville after you, along with the flaming fecal flingers,” he said. I made a puzzled face at that; Bauser pointed his index finger at his temple and pulled his thumb-trigger to make sure I understood. Oh. Yikes!

  “You know, maybe this was all some kind of family misunderstanding,” Ethel said. “After all, Helena has no connection with Mina and she obviously wasn’t trying to steal anything. Maybe it was a desperate cry for help, to her uncle?” she asked with a misty-eyed look.

  “Hey, ya think?” he asked. “I always was her favorite uncle. Even if I am the only one. That is, I was her favorite uncle until I got Mickey put in the pokey. I heard she was pretty sore at me about that.”

  “Well, maybe the best thing is for Mina to go downtown and talk with her,” Ethel offered.

  “Huh?”

  “Well, you have to go return the insurance papers to EEJIT anyway. Isn’t the police station right across the street?” Ethel said.

  I sighed. She had a point. Even if it was at the top of her head.

  Vito looked at me hopefully. “You’d do that, for me?” he asked all watery-eyed.

  “Sure. What the heck,” I said.

  “But what if she blows Vito’s cover at the station and starts yelling and stuff?” Norman asked warily. He quickly added, “Not that I think your niece is the yelling kind.” I looked over at him. He had an over-stocked knowledge about female yelling, between his two teenage stepdaughters and his wife. I gulped.

  Vito shook his head. “You’re right. And she is,” he added meekly.

  “So what’s our plan B?” Bauser asked.

  Vito folded Norman’s towel and handed it back to him. “Throw in the towel, of course,” he said. “That’s what Mike and Annie are for. Let’s just hope we don’t have to use them. Because I don’t think I’m ever gonna fall in love with Tampa.” He sighed. I shuddered, remembering Vito’s hair-stained shirt.

  We got the pierogies and pots and pans cleaned up, and mixed together a game plan, even if it was half-baked. Bauser and Norman filled Vito and Ethel and Ike in about the buddy brigade for me. I looked on hopefully – but unfortunately they all agreed and my privacy dissolved. So, Bauser, Norman and Jim were going to escort me back to EEJIT and to the downtown police precinct, hopefully while Appletree was still on duty. We figured Appletree left a wider range of maneuvering. Especially since I could hold Appletree a virtual hostage where Trixie and his wife were concerned. Ike was going to take the Ratties and Vito out to the dog park. And maybe also have a quick peek on Vito’s would-be terrier, Stanley, in the hopes Stanley’s former owner remained at large. Ethel was gonna stay at home and keep an eye on my house, Vinnie and Marie. She was also going to call Ma and Aunt Muriel to check up on them, and make sure their sleepover hadn’t morphed into another Atlantic City escapade.