Lizz Lund - Mina Kitchen 01 - Kitchen Addiction!

by Lizz Lund

  “How do you know that?” Annie asked.

  Vito looked at her and tapped the side of his nose. “I have it on good authority. Believe you me: I’m protected.”

  We each looked at each other and shivered. I wasn’t so sure about the nature of Vito’s protection. But for the time being at least, Vito was convinced it wouldn’t let him get whacked. Or fed poisoned pierogies.

  We heard a car pull up. Bauser looked out the window.

  “It’s Ethel and Ike,” he said.

  “Is Ethel crying?” I asked.

  “Probably.”

  I opened the front door carefully as Ethel and Ike walked up. Both Ratties lay prone and stiff in Ike’s arms. I gasped.

  “Sorry,” Ethel said, eyes moist.

  “Yeah, it’s not like we planned to do this,” Ike said.

  The Ratties lay still. “Murderer!” I screamed and slapped Ike upside his head.

  “Ouch!” he yelped.

  Hansel opened his eyes and nipped Gretel’s ear. Gretel responded by leaping out of Ike’s arms and chasing Hansel.

  “They’re alive!” I cried.

  That was when everyone kind of looked at me funny. Hey, Ethel was afraid for the Ratties because of the whole preggers thing, right? So it stood to some kind of reason to think Ike had taken some things into someone else’s hands. To me, at least.

  Ethel walked over to me and slapped me up the head sisterly-like. “Never take a pregnant hormonal mommy-to-be seriously.” She exchanged a smile with Ike and the yapping Ratties. “After we ate at the Canine Cafe, we went to the doggie park and let Hansel and Gretel run around. And that’s when, and where, I told Ikey,” she said happily. “We had a long, long talk. And a long, long walk. Hansel and Gretel got worn out and fell asleep so soundly in the backseat on the way home, we didn’t have the heart to wake them up.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Ike said, rubbing his head.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I said. Ike shrugged. Ethel gave me a hug.

  “If he’d really done that do you think I would have brought him back with a pulse?” she asked. I looked at Ike. Ike blanched. Clearly, Ethel was spending way too much time with Vito.

  “What’s going on, Cookie?” Vito asked.

  Ethel hugged Ike, and he hugged her back. “We’re going to have a baby,” she announced.

  Helena sniffed, “Oh, that’s wonderful! You’re so lucky to be married to the baby’s father. Especially since he isn’t in the slammer.” Vito shook his head and gulped his Mug o’Merlot.

  “Hey, what this heres calls for is a celebration. I got just the ticket,” he said, and hurried out the door and back to his house. I saw Bauser and Annie exchange glances, and watched as they followed Vito.

  I led Ethel over to the sofa so she could sit and cry with Annie and Helena. Ethel looked at the platters and smiled. “I was wondering when you’d start acting like you again,” she smiled.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You like catering. You like cooking. That’s a part of you,” she said.

  “I know. But I can’t get it right for less than a hundred,” I complained.

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Sew buttons,” she answered. “Okay, so maybe you have some volume issues. Big deal. Who doesn’t?”

  She got up and gave me a big hug, and I noticed we were a little farther apart then usual. We looked down at her belly. “Well, maybe it was more than four missed periods,” she said.

  “Listen, Ikey’s kind of mad about that. Preggo vitamins and that kind of thing. So he wants us to get back home tomorrow and to the obstetrician pronto,” she said.

  “You have an obstetrician already?” I asked.

  “Sure. Ike was on the phone the moment I told him,” she answered happily. “We have an appointment for Friday morning.”

  “What you need is a good nosh,” Helena said. “C’mon, look here. Look what’s in Mina’s kitchen.” She led the way into the kitchen where we all stepped carefully over Jim and Vinnie, who lay snoozing.

  Helena opened the refrigerator door, and she and Ethel gazed at the three remaining canapé platters like they’d found the Holy Grail. “Oh, you made my favorite!” Ethel squealed and grabbed a platter from the bottom shelf. “Look, you have to have one of these,” she said, and handed a fully loaded toothpick to Helena, while munching on one herself. “Simple, robust, delightful: a full complement to an adult cocktail with a reminiscent nod toward childhood play.”

  “What’d ya have?” I asked her.

  “Bologna pie.”

  I nodded. “But with a twist,” I explained. “I used layers of Mort Della, spread with chived cream cheese mixed with some plain low fat yogurt, and added some mini capers and olive tapenade.”

  “It’s wonderful, very upscale,” my sister said. “But actually, I prefer plain old bologna pie. No offense,” she added, helping herself to another.

  Bologna Pie was the hors d’œuvre of choice Dad’s folks entertained with in the Bronx back in the day, with a full complement of bathtub gin on the side. Bologna Pie consists of spreading cream cheese on top of thick slices of baloney, layering them, and then putting the pie into the icebox to chill. When company comes, you cut the pie into small wedges. When Gramma wanted to be fancy, she served them with cellophane fringed toothpicks. Gramma said everyone thought she was very clever. As kids, Ethel and I thought so too, although that line of thought wasn’t about toothpicks.

  The Ratties stumbled in hungrily and inspected Vinnie and Jim’s bowls. Boopkas. They looked up at Ethel and yipped melodramatically.

  “I know-ums you-ums want-ums grown-uppy food,” Ethel said sappily, “but this would make-ums my Hansel-pudding and Gretel-pie sickey-wickey.”

  I rolled my eyes and wished for a really strong drinky winky. I was going to be sickey-wicky with all this goo-goo speak and mug-in-a-box wasn’t going to cut it. Then I realized how much worse Ethel and Ike’s baby-speak would get once Junior stumbled onto the scene. I cringed.

  Helena spotted Jim’s Whoof-Os on the counter. “Can’t they have some of Jim’s cereal?” she asked.

  Ethel read the box and furrowed. “Well, it’s dog food. Sort of,” she said, and poured some out into two soup bowls for Hansel and Gretel. “Honestly, what’s the matter with Bauser? This is about as bad as feeding your kids cheese doodles for dinner.” Ethel put the bowls down for the dogs. They yipped and twirled thanks, tucked their heads in and crunched happily. Which woke up Jim and Vinnie. So Jim got some more Whoof-Os. Which was why Vinnie stood up and pounded his mitts on the top of the kitchen counter bar-keep style. Ethel and Helena stopped and stared at Vinnie.

  “Yeesh, he really is a big cat,” Ethel said.

  “Actually, I think he’s kind of small for a cougar,” Helena answered.

  I sighed and gave Vinnie some more Kitty Cookies, after Ethel insisted on vetting the ingredients on his bag, too.

  The front door opened and Vito and Annie and Bauser shuffled in. Vito held a large tray of grown-up looking glasses and a pitcher of something that might have been Amish Cosmos, because of the leaves and twigs and stuff in it. My grown-uppy drink prayer might have been answered – sort of – after all.

  As soon as Vito put his tray down, the doorbell rang. I opened the front door to find Ma and Aunt Mu. They did not look happy. They stood there clutching bottles of Grey Goose and Absolut. Huh. Maybe God gets a little delayed with His responses. But it was starting to look like he was making up for lost time.

  “Well, you’re not the only one who’s been severely disappointed today,” Aunt Muriel sighed as she entered the hallway.

  Ma shrugged. “That jerk wouldn’t know a White Burgundy from a Beaujolais,” she said.

  “I guess you didn’t get into Grazings?” I asked simply.

  “Oh, we got in alright. We got to pay the $75 prefix, got shuffled to the back, then finally got approval from Chef Obnoxious to sit at the
bar,” Ma said, with a big emphasis on the ‘aw’ in bar.

  “We were all settled in, talking cheerfully with everyone around us,” Auntie said.

  “We were even nice to the people behind us, even though they weren’t nice to us when we were behind them,” Ma said, as she rummaged around my freezer for some ice cubes.

  “Suddenly, just as we were served our ‘Primo’ tasting of spam stuffed mushrooms, the bartender complained to Chef about us!” Auntie finished.

  “Spam?” I asked.

  “It’s very ‘in’ now,” Aunt Muriel said. Ma shrugged.

  “Chef served Medallions of Salmon ala Stroganoff, which he felt should only be accompanied with a Pinot Noir,” Auntie explained.

  “And we did bring a Pinot Noir. But a white one,” she said. “Well, for heaven’s sake, it was in a blue bottle,” she continued. “Anyone with any sense knows red wine never comes in a blue bottle.” She sniffed. Helena and Ethel held some tissues out for her. Auntie took them and blew.

  Ma rubbed at the crick in her neck. “What a complete waste of a perfectly good massage,” she muttered.

  “How’d you like the salon?” I asked, noticing my godmom’s new doo.

  “Do you like my new haircut?” Auntie asked. I nodded.

  “Oh, it was very posh!” Ma sighed.

  “Did you get a complimentary beverage?”

  “Oh, yes. Tina phoned ahead for us. They gave us very nice Manginis.”

  “Manginis?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s new. It’s like a Balini but with mango juice, rum and champagne,” Ma explained. She rubbed at her neck some more. “If I’d known I was going to get that aggravated, I would have asked Mu to schedule James for tomorrow. What a bunch of fluff.” She winced.

  “I’ve never felt so humiliated,” Aunt Muriel added.

  Wait, I thought. You’re in my house. And the night is young.

  “Well here’s a little something for what ails you, Muriel,” Vito said shyly, holding out a martini glass with foamy pink liquid in it. Aunt Muriel sighed, said thank you and looked grateful.

  Vito nodded and handed out glasses to everyone – except for Ethel, who got sparkling cider. We toasted. We sipped. Then we all stared at our drinks.

  “Uh, what are we drinking, Vito?” I asked.

  “My own invention!” Vito grinned. “I mixed some Galliano, frozen strawberry daiquiri mix, tequila, orange juice, Chambord and banana schnapps. And then I added some prune juice for oomph!” he said.

  Great, I thought. Somewhere behind the rainbows of the Pink Squirrel and the Rusty Nail, Vito had slipped us Rusty Squirrels. Vito smiled, and together he and Bauser shuffled off into the living room to offer the other victims their own colon cleansing cocktails. As soon as they were out of sight, Ma and Mu and I quietly poured our drinks down the sink. I got out the cranberry juice and a lime and Muriel and Ma mixed it all up pronto with their own vodkas. Aunt Muriel genuflected and added several drops of my left-over coffee to each glass, so our drinks would sort of match the color of the poison ones Vito made. No one was the wiser.

  We shuffled into the living room with a new platter of canapés from the fridge. “Well I’m glad you had some company tonight, especially after today,” Aunt Muriel said, looking around at the usual crowd.

  Vito waved her off. “This here’s not company. It’s all family. By the way, this here is my real niece, Helena. And you remember my fake niece, Annie, right?” Vito asked.

  Both Helena and Annie exploded into tears.

  “Now what’s wrong? What’d I do?”

  Helena and Annie blew into dueling wads of tissues while Ma and Mu served up the econo size box o’tissues.

  “I feel like such a failure,” Helena sniffed. “What kind of a girl has a baby with the father in jail?”

  “Well then I’m a double failure,” Annie said and blew into her wad. “I can’t maintain a subject’s cover, or surveillance, and I almost lost Mina’s cat,” she said tearfully.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  Annie sighed. “I know you’re gonna think this is kind of funny, or really not so funny,” she began, “but my boss was afraid that Vlad – Vito – was starting up some maybe too noticeable sideline activities.”

  “How’d you mean?” Vito asked carefully.

  Annie blew her nose. “He thought maybe you might be into some kind of money laundering scheme, because of all your trips to Lickety-Split laundry. Especially since your niece is involved with Mickey the Mouse,” she said. She took a deep breath and continued. “Mike told me to keep a steady watch on you, that it would mean a real promotion for me. And I guess I got a little overzealous.”

  “Huh?” I asked again.

  Annie hung her head. “I pretended to help out at the dry cleaners, thinking I could find an angle there.” Bauser, Vito, Ma, Mu, Ethel and I exchanged furtive glances and took long collective swigs from our beverages. Helena and Ike nodded from their respective corners of oblivion at Annie.

  Annie took another tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “I couldn’t find anything there. I guess I got a little frustrated. I really needed to find something, anything,” she said, looking at me. “So when I watched Vito coming and going from your house, I figured you must be involved with whatever he was involved with.” She sighed. “That’s why I broke into your house while you were at the polo match with your Aunt.”

  Vito looked at her levelly. “Annie, you means to tell us you’re the one what let Vinnie out?”

  A giant light bulb clicked on above all of our heads.

  “Good Lord, you made all that mess?” Aunt Muriel shrieked.

  “I know, I know! I told you I was a worse failure,” Annie cried, and sniffled into a new wad of tissues. “But I didn’t know you had a cat, or a bird. That part was really a series of bad luck,” she continued, and took a gulp from her prune daiquiri. “Everything was fine until I got upstairs. Your bird started shrieking. So I popped my head in quick to look at her, and saw she had her toe stuck in the cage door. I couldn’t leave her like that. So I opened the door a teensy, weensy bit – and she flew right downstairs. That was when I saw Vinnie in the hallway.”

  As if on cue, Vinnie sauntered into the living room, and sat in front of Annie neatly cleaning his paws and stared at her. Detective Purr-o.

  “Vinnie growled at me and chased me into the kitchen,” Annie sniffled. “I wanted to shoo him into the basement because I was afraid of leaving him out with your bird. But he roared at me.” Annie shivered. “So I slipped out the back as quick as I could. I figured it would be alright since you would be in the house any minute. But he chased after me.”

  We all looked at Vinnie. Vinnie looked around at his court with an exceedingly self-satisfied look on his face.

  “Wow, feline security. Whaddayknow?” Vito said.

  Vinnie turned and stared at Annie to demand the rest of her confession.

  Annie sighed. “I didn’t want to have anything happen to him, even if he did growl at me,” she said. “But he chased me all the way back to my car. I managed to get him inside by giving him my leftover Buddy Burger. Then I drove to the nearest pet store, and got a carrier. I went back to your house, and waited. But then your Aunt came over. And Vito. And your friend Trixie shows up. Then the police arrived. Crimaney – your house is like Grand Central.” I shrugged and nodded. What could I say? She was right.

  “I finally found a moment after Appletree left. I would have carried Vinnie inside, except he’s too big. So I hid with him behind some shrubs, and then shoved him in through the back door once you finally looked away.”

  Bauser blew out a whistle. Jim came trotting over. The Ratties followed and sat pretty.

  “Well, yous was decent enough to look after Vinnie, so I guess you ain’t so bad,” Vito proclaimed.

  “Well, we never would have expected that. There’s not much that can top that,” Ma said.

  “Actually, we might be able to
top that,” Ike said.

  “Yes, we can,” Ethel agreed, and proceeded to tell Ma and Mu they were soon to be a grandmother and a great-aunt.

  After Ma and Aunt Muriel stopped shrieking, everyone went around and gave each other little hugs and got cried on a lot.

  The phone rang. “Hello?” I asked.

  “Hey, Mina, it’s me, Trixie.”

  “Are you on your cell? You sound kind of funny,” I said.

  “Yeah, I’m on a break. Can’t use cells inside the ER. Or smoke,” she puffed. I was glad that as a health professional she followed the rules.

  “I thought you only worked nights?”

  “Louella called in, so I picked up the second half of her shift,” Trixie said. I had to hand it to her: the girl sure had stamina. I barely handled an 8 hour working day at EEJIT, much less a 12 hour shift on my feet. And here was Trixie was on another 18-hour shift marathon. Well at least her patients had continuity of care. A few poor souls could count on being treated by the same worn out grouchy nurse who admitted them earlier this evening until tomorrow morning.

  “Well, at least you’ll get her breaks, too,” I said hopefully.

  Trixie grunted. “Yeah. I got halfway into my first break when some drunk fraternity prankster puked all over,” she said.

  Eeeeeeeew.

  “But the thing is,” she continued with another puff, “they got TVs on in the ER waiting room. Just in case any of the gunshot victims want to see if they made the news.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.”

  “Yep. Anyway, Channel 13 was showing the new Buy-A-Lots – the one that got you in so much trouble? It got set on fire again. The same way.”

  I sighed. “Well, at least that’s not my problem anymore.”

  “I’m not so sure. I just treated some of your senior Breakfast War gang for multiple burns.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your egg slinging buddy Ernie, and the one you said you’re all afraid of, Evelyn,” she said. “They both claimed barbecue flare-up incidents, but I’m kind of doubtful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they both had dog doo all over their shoes.”