“My father’s was the first one. Signora Nardo opened hers later. There is talk she ran out of money, and in order to maintain the castle she had to make it into a boutique hotel and a cooking school. She has a brother who doesn’t work. It is well known in the area she hired his wife to be her chef for the classes. Their parents willed the castle and the land to her. From what I hear,” the young man said conspiratorially, “when he found out she was going to have a cooking school in the castle, he threatened to tell her husband about the affair she’s been having with Giovanni Rizzo if she didn’t hire his wife to be the chef. Signora Nardo had no choice. I heard that the Signor wondered why she had hired her sister-in-law, but she convinced him she was a very good chef, and she would be much cheaper than anyone else they could hire.”
“That surprises me. I thought the chef at the school had owned a very famous restaurant and traveled all over Italy giving classes.”
The young man laughed. “None of that is true. You must be staying at the castle and taking her classes. That’s the story they tell people and who checks things like that out when they’re going to a cooking school? No one. It has presented problems for us because my father refuses to do that. No, believe me, the only other kitchen Chef Bianchi has ever been in is her own.”
“Do you have any cookbooks from your cooking school? I own a coffee shop in the United States, and I’m always looking for new things to serve.”
“Of course. Actually there are several. We don’t have just one chef. We have some new ones and some returning ones and many of them have their own cookbooks. All of the cookbooks on that middle shelf are from cooks who have taught at our school,” he said, gesturing towards the shelf. “The problem is that they’re all in Italian. I don’t have any in English.”
“That’s not a problem. I speak Italian. Thank you. You’ve been very helpful. I can only stay a few more minutes, but I would like a couple of the books. Let me take a quick look and see which ones I want.”
Ten minutes later Kelly walked out of the shop and put the three cookbooks she’d purchased in the bike basket. She untied Caesar from the pole and said, “Okay, Caesar, it’s time to go back to the castle. I wonder who’s in charge of feeding you tonight. I better find out. I don’t want you to starve.” The big dog loped alongside the bike as they made their way back to the castle in the deepening late afternoon shadows.
CHAPTER 14
When she got back to the castle, Kelly left the bike near the front door, and she and Caesar walked in the front door. “Oh, Matteo, I’m so glad you’re here. Where can I find some dog food for Caesar?”
“It’s in the little shed that’s in the dog run. He gets fed there,” he said, looking at his watch. “Actually, it’s about time for the dogs to be fed. Signora Nardo always fed them around 4:30, because she didn’t want them to be hungry when dinner was served to the guests. I’ll do it right now.”
“Thank you. I think Caesar is a little hungry after our trip to the village. I’m running late, and it’s my turn to serve tonight, plus I have to finish up the risotto. I’ll go up to my room and get my apron. Thanks again for helping me with the bicycle.”
A few minutes later she walked into the kitchen where the other servers and assistants were gathered to put the finishing touches on the evening meal. Just as the evening before, wine was being served in the library, although the Nardos were not pouring tonight. The wine steward had taken over that task for the duration of the cooking class.
“Kelly, there you are. You need to finish up the risotto. I want you to start by bringing the stock you made earlier to a simmer. Melt the butter and add the onions. Cook them over a low heat until they’re almost translucent and then add the mushrooms. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Kelly did what Chef Bianchi had told her to do. When the chef hadn’t returned after a few minutes, Kelly looked at the directions, removed the mushrooms and added the Arborio rice to the mixture. She continued adding the broth as needed.
Chef Bianchi has a lot more confidence in my ability to properly cook this risotto than I do. I wonder where she is and when she’ll be back. I can’t leave the risotto. Guess I’m stuck with preparing it, and I hope I’m doing it right.”
A few minutes later Chef Bianchi returned. “Sorry, I had to make a telephone call. You’ve done a very good job, Kelly. Please continue while I check on the other students,” she said walking around to the different preparation and cooking stations. Kelly noticed something moving just beyond the kitchen door and saw Caesar lie down and stare at her from across the kitchen.
I think we’ve bonded. Wish I could take him home, but don’t think that will work. I kind of remember reading you have to quarantine household pets that are transported to the United States from a foreign country, and anyway, I’m not so sure Lady and Rebel would like the competition, particularly Rebel.
“All right students,” Chef Bianchi said a half hour later. “You’re excused. My assistants and I will finish up here. Please feel free to go into the library and enjoy a glass of wine. I’d like the two servers back here at ten minutes until eight.”
Kelly took off her apron and draped it over the stool in front of her station. She walked into the library with the others and saw Mike talking to the wine steward. “Kelly, how did your risotto turn out?” Mike asked.
“Actually it was a lot easier than I thought it would be. You can tell me how I did after you have some for dinner. I think you’re going to be very happy with the dinner from what I saw in the kitchen. I’d like a glass of the white wine,” she said to Domenico, the wine steward. He poured her a glass of white wine and then turned to take the requests of the other guests.
Mike put his hand on her elbow. “Why don’t you come out on the porch with me? The sun is setting on the hills and the entire countryside for as far as you can see is bathed in a soft golden light. It’s really quite beautiful.”
They walked out the glass doors which were encased in Mediterranean pine. “Mike this is gorgeous. The colors in the sky are going to the soft mauves and blues of early evening. What a spectacular sight. I’m so glad you thought to bring me out here to see it.”
“Yes, it’s beautiful, but that’s not the real reason I wanted to come out here. I found out from the chief of police today that Signora Nardo was murdered. The coroner’s report indicated she was evidently given a large dose of sleeping pills and then given a lethal injection of a substance which evidently caused her to die instantly. The coroner said it might take weeks to find out exactly what the substance was, but whatever it was, it resulted in her death.”
“Oh, no! Mike, that’s terrible. Now what?”
“Well, I felt kind of silly telling the chief of police what you’d overheard today, but he was very grateful as it provided him with a place to start. He said he intends to investigate each one of the people you heard the two women talking about, and he’s asked me to help him.”
“Mike, I biked into town today with Caesar and found out something interesting.” She told him about her conversation with Berto Moretti’s son.
“I’m not surprised,” Mike said. “The chief told me that although the Nardo family is very well known in this area and has been for centuries, Signora Nardo was not very well-liked. He finds it hard to believe that Giovanni Rizzo would have had anything to do with her. Carlo said Giovanni’s wife, Angelica Rizzo, is a beautiful woman and loved by everyone and her husband, Giovanni, is a very handsome man. He told me it was common knowledge that Giovanni had had many affairs, but they’d always been with a beautiful woman, and Signora Nardo was definitely not beautiful.”
“You know, Mike, there’s an afternoon excursion tomorrow to the Rizzo’s olive oil processing plant located on their estate. I’m going to take that trip. Maybe I’ll have a chance to meet Angelica Rizzo and find out some information about her relationship with not only her husband, but also with Signora Nardo.”
“You’re on your own for that. The chief is picking me
up tomorrow morning, and I’ll be spending the better part of the day at the police station with him. He’s very interested in finding out if Signor Nardo has an alibi for last night when Signora Nardo was murdered, and likewise if the Signora’s brother, Salvadore, has an alibi. I did find out something interesting that I don’t think you know.”
“What? And by the way, I think there’s a whole lot I don’t know.”
“Signora Nardo’s brother, Salvadore, is married to Chef Bianchi.”
“Well, I heard the same thing from Signor Moretti’s son. Do you know why she uses the name Bianchi?”
“Evidently that was her maiden name, and when Signora Nardo hired her sister-in-law to be the chef at the cooking school, they thought it would look more professional if she had a different name.”
“That sure fits in with what the younger Moretti told me about her. He was not very impressed with her credentials. In fact, he made it quite clear she doesn’t even have any credentials, and that the only reason she was hired was because her husband was blackmailing Signora Nardo about her affair with Giovanni. Evidently he threatened to tell her husband.”
“That’s becoming more than a coincidence, and you know how I feel about coincidences. What I don’t understand is, if it’s true, why Giovanni would be having an affair with her,” Mike said.
“Well, let me answer that question with a quote from Shakespeare in Hamlet, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ In other words, we sure don’t know everything.”
“If we’re going to solve this murder, we better find out everything.”
“You’re absolutely right. Mike, I’ve got to go back to the kitchen. It’s my night for serving, and I sure don’t want to make the chef mad, even if she isn’t quite who or what she says she is.”
“Try not to spill anything, and I’m looking forward to the risotto. It’s one of my favorites, and I don’t think you’ve ever made it for me.”
“I always thought it would be too difficult to make, but now I feel pretty good about making it. The problem is it takes a lot of time to prepare, so it probably won’t go on the menu at the coffee shop. See you at dinner.”
CHAPTER 15
“Kelly, I think today is even more beautiful than yesterday,” Mike said as he looked out the window. “I loved the risotto last night. That’s a definite make it at home dish, and I was particularly impressed you didn’t spill the soup while you were serving it. By the way, I’ve never had chestnut soup before. It was delicious and went perfectly with the risotto.”
“It was very good, but that gelato made the dinner for me. It’s in my recipe packet, and I can’t wait to try that one when we get home. Mike, I know I’m changing the subject, but do you hear something?”
“I sure do. It sounds like scratching at our door. Hold on; let me see what it is. Stay where you are. I’ll take care of it.” He walked over to the door and opened it. As soon as it was open, one hundred fifty pounds of fur bounded across the room, jumped on the bed, and began licking Kelly.
“Good grief, Kelly! Are you going to let Caesar stay there?” Mike asked as he laughed at the sight of Kelly pinned to the bed with a huge dog licking her face and wagging his tail.
“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter. Looks like Caesar has become my new best friend. Lie down, boy, lie down.” With that command, the massive dog stretched his full length out on the bed next to Kelly, and looked over at her with adoring eyes.
“I’ll say one thing for him. He’s well-trained. If I’m going to have to watch another male get in bed with you, I’m glad that at least it’s only a dog,” Mike said chuckling.
“What time is Chief Varano picking you up today?”
“Ten this morning, so I won’t be here for lunch. Let’s get dressed and go down to breakfast. I desperately need some coffee.”
“Okay. Caesar, stay,” Kelly said getting out of bed and walking into the bathroom. “Mike, give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready.”
Mike sighed. He knew ten minutes to Kelly meant at least twenty-five minutes. He was right. Twenty-five minutes later Caesar, Kelly, and Mike walked down to the dining room where the continental breakfast was being served. When they’d finished eating, Kelly looked at her watch and said, “I think I’ll go into the kitchen now. It doesn’t make much sense for me to go up to the room and immediately turn around and have to come back down for class. Good luck today. Hope you and the chief make a lot of progress.”
“I know he’d like to. See you, later. Enjoy the olive oil trip.”
Kelly spent the rest of the morning helping to prepare the lunch and evening meals. Lunch was a simple meal of spinach and ricotta dumplings with a bean puree served on crostini and a green salad. Dinner was to be more elaborate, consisting of roasted lamb, green beans, a grilled pepper salad, and ending with something called “Granny’s Tart.” Kelly’s only regret was that she couldn’t be at all of the stations to see how each dish was prepared. She was resolved to the fact she’d have to use the recipes when she got home rather than relying on her experience of actually preparing the dishes
“As I mentioned the first night, we will take a field trip to a nearby farm with an olive grove and a small boutique olive oil processing plant following lunch,” Chef Bianchi announced at the beginning of lunch. “If you want to go, please meet me at the hotel entrance at 2:00. We’ll return to the castle around 4:00. If you’ve never seen how olive oil is made, I think you’ll find it interesting.”
At 2:00 Kelly joined a small group of students at the hotel entrance. Several of the students had preferred to spend the warm afternoon by the swimming pool. Kelly patted Caesar’s head and told him she’d be back in two hours as she got into the van. She sensed a hint of sadness in his eyes as she boarded.
*****
A short time later Alberto drove the van up a lane lined with olive trees on each side as far as the eye could see. At the end of the lane were two buildings. The one on the left was clearly the commercial building where the olive oil was pressed. It was painted white and in big red letters were the words, “Rizzo Olive Oil.” The one on the right was a large stone house with purple blooming wisteria covering its sides. Heavy wooden garage doors were on the left side of the front of the house. Next to the garage, curving steps led up to the wooden front door. On the left side of each of the steps brightly colored blooming flowers trailed over and down large terra cotta vases.
That’s one of the warmest, most welcoming homes I’ve ever seen, Kelly thought. If Giovanni was having an affair with Signora Nardo, I can’t believe Signora Rizzo knew about it. The house speaks of happiness.
The van pulled up in front of the commercial building, and the students got out and entered the building. The manager of the olive oil company met them at the door. “Buongiorno or good afternoon,” he said. Welcome to Rizzo Olive Oil. Today I will be showing you the steps we take in making olive oil. Naturally, we have a much larger plant in Florence where we make the majority of the olive oil we sell; however, you will have a chance to see the process here. We begin with cleaning the olives. All rocks and sand must be removed, or they will damage a hammer mill like ours and will also quickly wear out the oil separator.
“Next, we will watch the olives as they are ground into a paste which helps release the oil from them. Then we mix the paste until small oil droplets combine into bigger ones. Although there are other steps that are optional such as additional processing or putting in additives, the last step is where the oil is separated from the vegetable water and solids. I’m sure you’ve all heard the term ‘first press.’ If we were still using presses, this would be the first press, but now it’s done with the help of a centrifuge which separates the oil, water, and the solids separately. After the oil has been separated, it’s put into tanks or barrels. At this facility we use barrels, but in Florence we use large stainless steel tanks. An additional step is sometimes done where we filter the oil. Those are t
he basic steps you’ll be seeing during our tour. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me as we walk through the plant.”
Although Kelly found the tour fascinating, she was more interested in what the mindset was of a woman whose husband had supposedly been the lover of a woman who had just been murdered. She wondered if Signora Rizzo knew about the rumors. When the tour had ended and the manager had escorted the students into the gift shop, so they could buy olive oil souvenirs and have some wine and crackers, she slipped out a side door. Kelly had no idea what she was looking for, but something told her to stay in the shadows of the olive trees, and see if she could find out anything.
She walked towards the rear of the house and stopped a moment to look at the view in front of her. Olive trees covered the landscape for as far as she could see. It presented a classic snapshot of the beauty of the Tuscany area. Looking at the back of the house she saw a large patio that was set back from the house with steps from the house leading down to it. The terra cotta vases she’d noticed on the front steps of the house were repeated with vibrant flowers and color everywhere she looked. She moved closer to the house, and when she was standing at the foot of the steps she heard a woman’s voice coming through a nearby window and from the pauses it sounded as if she was talking on the phone. Kelly strained to hear what she was saying.
“Piero, she was murdered yesterday. Does this mean I need to send funds to your Cayman account? As I recall that was the agreement we had.” She was quiet for a few moments and then asked, “What do you mean you’ll let me know? Either you were responsible for it or not.” She was clearly listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. “All right. I’ll wait for your call. Since you don’t know, I’m assuming you weren’t personally responsible for doing it, but that someone you hired may have murdered her, and if so, you want me to deposit the money. Is that correct?” She listened some more to whoever was on the other end of the line and then ended the conversation with, “I don’t know whether to thank you or not, but if it was you or someone you hired, thank you.”
Murder at the Cooking School: Book 7 of the Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series Page 6