by Jessica Beck
I grinned at Grace and began to fill my plate. She did the same, and as we ate, we had a pleasant chat with Angelica and Sophia. No one mentioned Simon Reed, and it was a pleasant interlude as bite after bite exploded with delicious flavor in my mouth. The pasta, homemade every day, was like nothing I’d ever had anywhere else, and the meatball was large enough to nearly dominate that portion of my plate. “What’s in this?” I asked as I took another bite.
“It’s a blend of three meats and six spices,” Angelica explained.
“Don’t ask her the spice mix ingredients,” Sophia said with a grin. “Even we don’t know all of her recipes and mixes.”
“In good time, my love. In good time I will share them with you all.”
“I’m just saying, I’d hate for them to be lost to the ages if something sudden should happen to you,” Sophia said. “Not only would we all be grief stricken, but Napoli’s couldn’t continue without the Angelica DeAngelis special touch.”
I looked to see if the youngest daughter was smiling, but she was deadly serious. Angelica studied her child for a moment before replying. “Thank you for that sentiment, Sophia, but if that should happen, you and your sisters will find everything written down in a small journal safely housed at the bank.”
“Which bank?” Sophia asked, smiling to break the somber tone that had just arisen.
“That you will have to discover for yourselves,” Angelica said with a laugh. “Think of it as one last treasure hunt.”
“I hope it’s a hundred years before we have to search for it,” she said, hugging her mother as she said it.
“Well, perhaps not a hundred. Let’s say fifty, shall we?”
“I’m not sure I’ll be ready to let you go so soon,” Sophia said.
“That was amazing,” I said as I pushed my plate back. To my surprise, Grace and I had managed to polish off nearly every bite on the platter.
“You see?” Angelica asked with a smile as she put her arms on both our shoulders. “I knew you could do it. Now, who is ready for dessert?”
“There is no way I can eat another bite,” I said. “Grace?”
“I should have stopped ten minutes ago, but my gluttony got the best of me,” she answered.
“Then I’ll send some home with you,” Angelica said.
“Please don’t. We’ll be spending the afternoon in Union Square, and I’d hate for it to spoil.” I was about to offer to pay something, at least a token, to make up for all we’d eaten, but Angelica must have read my mind. She gave me a look that expressed her displeasure with the very thought of what I was about to suggest, so I changed course abruptly. “Thank you for the meal. It was amazing.”
“You are most welcome,” she said as she nodded and added a smile as well. Angelica turned to Sophia and asked, “Would you mind relieving your sister and asking her to join us in the kitchen?”
“Aw, man, I hate waiting on customers,” Sophia said.
“Yes, but here we rotate jobs. Even I work the front occasionally.”
“Not as often as I do,” Sophia mumbled.
“What was that?”
“I said that’s what I do,” she answered with a grin as she winked at me.
Angelica chuckled, and then Sophia was gone.
“Remember our agreement,” Angelica told us once we were alone.
“We promise,” I said.
“Absolutely,” Grace replied.
“Very good. I know I can trust you girls.”
“But you’re staying anyway, right?” I asked her with a smile.
“Can you honestly say that you are surprised?” Angelica asked, matching my grin with one of her own.
“The only thing that would have surprised me would have been if you’d taken the front and let Sophia stay,” I said.
Maria came back, frowning. “What’s this I hear from Sophia? You don’t really want to talk to me about that rat, Simon Reed, do you?”
Well, things were certainly getting off to a rocky start.
Chapter 9
“Mom, do I really have to talk about this?” Maria asked her mother. “I’m starving.”
“You may do as you please, but I’d be most appreciative if you would help Suzanne and Grace in any way that you can. Need I recount all of the times they’ve stepped up to help us in the past?”
“Hang on, Angelica. That’s not the way this is going to work,” I said. “Maria, you don’t have to say anything to us if you don’t want to. Your mother agreed to let us ask you some questions, but you’re certainly under no obligation to answer any of them.”
Maria looked from me to Grace to her mother, who nodded once. “It’s true. Whether you answer or not is your decision.”
“But you’d like me to, wouldn’t you?” Maria asked.
“You always were a bright child,” Angelica said with a smile as she plated some food for her daughter. All of the DeAngelis women were lovely, but none more so than the matriarch of the clan. Still, the very thought that a young man would willingly break up with Maria, whose inner beauty outshone even her outer appearance, was beyond me. Simon Reed was evidently many things, including a fool, when it came to matters of the heart.
As Maria started to eat, she said, “Go on. Fire away. Soph hates being out front, so I promised her I wouldn’t take too long to eat.”
“Your sister will find a way to survive the ordeal,” Angelica said bluntly.
“Sure. Okay.” As Maria took another bite, she looked at us expectantly.
“First things first,” I said. “Who do you know who might want to kill Simon?”
“Do you mean besides me?” she asked, and then she saw her mother’s instant disapproval and quickly amended, “Strike that. Simon had a polarizing effect on people. You either loved him or hated him. Let me tell you, when I was with him, he made me feel as though I was the only person in the universe that mattered. He hung on every word I said, and he actually listened! Do you know how rare that is to find in guys my age?”
“Men of any age, I’d say,” Angelica said glumly. She hadn’t had much luck dating in recent years, and I had to wonder if it wasn’t because she was such an intimidating package.
“So, he was smooth,” Grace said.
“It goes beyond that,” Maria explained between bites. “I honestly thought we were in love, but the moment Sherry West set her sights on him, I was sunk. That girl would do anything in her power to get what she wanted, and woe to anyone who might get in her way.”
“Did she threaten you?” I asked.
“Not in so many words, but she made it clear that if I crossed her, I’d pay for it. I have a feeling Simon finally met his match with that one.”
“Do you think she’d be capable of violence?” I asked Maria.
“Oh, yes. She loves living up to the fiery redhead image.”
“Who else might be angry enough to kill him?” I asked.
“Have you met Shalimar yet?” Maria asked with a shake of her head. “She dated him before I came along, and from what I’ve heard, she kept trying to get Simon back, even when we were together.”
“She’s on our list, but we haven’t spoken with her yet. Do you have any idea where we might find her?” I asked.
“She’s working over at the Lazy Eye café,” Maria said.
“I’ve never heard of it, and I thought I knew everything about Union Square,” I said.
“It’s brand new. Simon’s roommate, Clint Harpold, just opened the place last week.”
“We’ll definitely head there first then,” I said. “How did Clint and Simon get along?” Since we’d heard conflicting stories about the pair, I wanted to see what Maria had to say.
“Not great, but to be fair, not many men got along with Simon,” she said. “I do
n’t know if they were better or worse than most, though.”
“Is there anyone else you can think of?” I asked.
“Have you talked to Simon’s brother yet?” Maria asked after she finished another hearty bite. How did this girl manage to eat so much and stay so slim? If she was giving lessons, I wanted to be the first one to sign up for the course.
“We didn’t even know that he had a brother,” Grace admitted.
“Oh, yes. Theo is a real treat.”
“Theo?” I asked.
“Short for Theodore. He works at an investment firm downtown, and he absolutely hated his brother.”
“Why?” I asked, curious about how some sibling rivalries were so intense.
“When their dad died, Simon inherited one bank account and Theo got another. Why they didn’t split things equally among themselves was beyond me, but Simon ended up getting five thousand dollars more than Theo. We were dating at the time, and Theo told Simon that he had nine months to make things right, or he was going to do something about it himself.”
“When would the nine months expire?” Grace asked.
“Probably right about now,” Maria admitted. “Do you think he actually might have done it?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. Is there anything else you might be able to tell us, Maria?”
She finished the last of the food on her plate as she shook her head. “No, sorry. The truth is that I’ve done my best to get him out of my mind. It still makes me sad that someone killed him. Nobody deserves to die that way, especially so young. I don’t know. If he’d been given more time, maybe Simon would have found a way to turn things around.”
“Maybe,” I said, highly doubting that this particular leopard would have ever been able to change his spots. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to us about something that was obviously so painful for you.”
“It’s fine,” Maria said. Before she made her way back out front, she kissed her mother’s cheek. “You were right. I’m glad I talked to them.”
“I’m very proud of you,” Angelica said.
“You know what? I’m proud of me, too.”
After she was gone, I said, “Angelica, I may not have told you this recently, but you’ve raised a fine crop of young ladies.”
“I know, but I always enjoy hearing it,” she said. “Now, if there’s nothing else we can do for you, I must get back to work.”
“You’ve done more than enough.” I surprised us both by hugging her before we left, and Grace joined in as well. Angelica looked flustered for a moment, but it took her only an instant to return our embrace in full.
“Good luck,” she said as we headed for the back door in order to avoid going out through the front.
“Thanks. At this point, we need all that we can get,” I said.
“Why would anyone call their restaurant the Lazy Eye?” Grace asked me as we followed the directions Maria had given us.
“It’s odd and quirky, anyway. Who knows? Maybe there’s a story behind it,” I said. “Then again, maybe it’s due to a complete lack of creativity on Clint Harpold’s part.”
“Why do you say that?” Grace asked.
“Look at the sign,” I said. Perched above the new café, at least new under this ownership, was the word DINER spelled out in big red letters. There was just one problem with it, though. The “I” had slipped down a good ten inches and dangled precariously above the door. “Get it? It’s a lazy ‘I.’”
“Why didn’t they just fix the letter and come up with a new name?” Grace asked me.
“Feel free to ask Clint Harpold that after we finish up with our questions about Simon Reed,” I said.
“I’ll pass,” she said as we parked and got out.
The place was fairly empty, given the time of day. Napoli’s had been busy when we’d walked through the front door coming in, but then again, some time had passed since, and we had exited through the rear of the building. Still, the parking lot had been full there, whereas here there was enough room to park a dump truck and still have space left over.
As we walked in, a brassy blonde wearing a tight T-shirt and a short denim skirt handed us a pair of menus before we could say a word. Her hair was like a mane, full and flowing, with streaks of green, pink, blue, and red throughout. I could see what the chief meant. She certainly looked memorable! Her name tag, barely holding on to the thin material, said that her name was Shalimar. Surely there couldn’t be two of them. “Welcome to the Lazy Eye,” she said in a bored manner. “Would you like to hear the lunch specials?”
“Thanks, but we already ate,” I said as I looked around. It had clearly been a diner for a long time. There were signs of neglect from years of abuse from the scuffed floors to the cracking vinyl on the booths.
“Then it’s a good thing you came to a restaurant, isn’t it?” she asked sarcastically. “If you don’t order something, you can’t stay.”
I was about to tell her why we were really there, to talk to her and her boss about the late Simon Reed, when Grace surprised me by asking, “We’ve had our lunch, but we’re not quite full. What’s on the dessert menu?”
Could she really eat another bite? I wasn’t sure that I could manage it. I’d just felt more and more full since we’d left Napoli’s, and I wasn’t at all certain I could force down a single bite, no matter how good it might be.
“The cherry pie is excellent,” she said as we took seats at the counter up front. It put us close to her, and the kitchen as well.
“Excellent. We’ll split a piece,” I said.
When Shalimar frowned, Grace added, “Go ahead and make that two. I’m feeling a bit hungry after that lunch.”
She was obviously lying now, but I wasn’t going to challenge her on it. “Two it is,” I said as I held up two fingers.
Shalimar opened the Plexiglas carousel and removed two slices of cherry pie. As she put one down in front of me, I marveled at the flaky golden crust, the abundant cherries and filling that spilled out on either side, as well as the generous nature of the portion. If it tasted anything as good as it looked, I might just have to force myself to sample it.
“Are these freshly baked?” I asked her.
“The boss makes them every day,” she said as she slid one bill between us. We hadn’t even gotten our first bites in, and she was already looking to get paid.
I tried a small bite and was rewarded with a burst of goodness in my mouth. I wasn’t sure what else Clint Harpold might be, but he could bake a pie, there was no doubt about that. “Wow,” I said.
Grace tried hers as well, with similar results. “Is the baker around? I’d love to compliment her,” she said, purposefully missing Clint’s gender.
“She happens to be a ‘he,’” Shalimar said. “Hang on a second.” She walked to the window and said, “Clint. Two women want to compliment you on your pie.”
“I asked you to call me Chef, Shalimar,” he scolded her as he came out of the kitchen wearing a white smock with long sleeves and a hat, despite the heat and the lack of a fully functioning air conditioner in the diner. In my opinion, he was a tad overdressed for being in a diner, but then again, he could wear a clown outfit for all I cared if he kept making pie that good. He turned to us and did his best to smile. “I’m the chef here.”
“This pie is wonderful,” I said. “How do you do it?”
“I can’t give away my secrets, but I appreciate the praise.”
Grace looked at him oddly for a moment before she spoke. “Did our waitress just call you Clint?”
He looked embarrassed. “Yes. What can I say? Good help is hard to find.” He’d said it fairly low, but evidently Shalimar had picked up on it.
“I know when I’m not wanted. I’m going on break,” she said with a frown.
&n
bsp; “But you just took one,” Clint protested.
“I didn’t know we were keeping score,” she said as she walked out without another word.
“You aren’t Clint Harpold, are you?” Grace asked him.
“Yes, I am. Why? Have you heard of me?” He was clearly flattered by having his name recognized, but I had a hunch that he wasn’t going to like it for long.
Grace didn’t disappoint me. “You were Simon Reed’s roommate, weren’t you? I can’t believe you came into work today after he was murdered last night.”
“It’s a real shame, but I can’t afford to shut the diner down for anything short of a hurricane.”
“Were you two very close?” I asked him.
“We went to school together,” Clint said dismissively.
I pretended to recognize him all of a sudden. “I thought you looked familiar. You were working at Barton Gleason’s pop-up bistro in April Springs last night, weren’t you?”
He looked unhappy about being tied with the endeavor at all. “I was there to return a favor.”
“So, when was the last time you saw Simon alive?” Grace asked.
“I have no idea. Things were crazy in the outdoor kitchen. The truth is I didn’t even realize that Simon was gone until somebody screamed something about murder.”
I resented the implication that I’d screamed, but maybe he was talking about someone else. “Who would do such a thing?” I asked.
“You mean besides the obvious answer, which was everyone who ever knew him?” Clint asked, showing his true feelings at last.
“Was he really that bad?” I asked.
“The man had the morals of an alley cat,” he said with a shrug. “I’m sure some people will try to gloss his actions over now that he’s gone, but I’m not one of them. You wouldn’t believe the stories I could tell you about some of his little adventures, as he liked to call them.”
I took a bite of pie, smiled appropriately, and then I said, “We love dirt! What do you have that’s juicy?” Then I turned to Grace and said, “We have to tell Sylvia about this place. She’ll want him to cater the next formal ball once we tell her how good the food is here. How many people attended last year?”