Murder in the Pearl District (Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series Book 5)

by Dianne Harman

  “Sophie, we apparently have our first challenge. I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but evidently the restaurant critic from the Portland Gazette was getting ready to write a bad review of Mangia! Mangia!, and Donatella confronted him about it by phone. He’s here now. Carlotta just pointed him out to me. What do you want to do? Do you want to go talk to him and welcome him? I really don’t know what’s customary and usual in a situation like this.”

  “I’m sorry to ask you to do this, Kelly, but you’re so good with people, I’d really appreciate it if you would take care of it. I think the sensible thing to do would be to welcome him. I have a temper, and if he said anything about Dede, I might ruin any chance we have of getting a good review. Actually, Nico and I were going over some terrific ideas he has about changing the menu. I have to say I’m impressed with his ideas, although Dede told me once that only restaurants that weren’t successful changed their menus. She told me she was certain that’s why Mangia! Mangia! was popular, because people felt comfortable coming to a restaurant they knew would have the same food they liked the last time they were there.”

  “All right. It’s your restaurant, but this is not my favorite thing to do. Wish me luck.”

  “Excuse me, Kelly,” Nico said. “Bill Hossam has a reputation in the industry for being very nasty. You should see some of the scathing reviews he’s written about other restaurants. I always feel sorry for the owner whenever he publishes one. He dislikes more restaurants than he likes. I just hope ours isn’t going to be one of them.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind and not take anything he says personally. Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Here probably goes nothing.” She walked out of the kitchen and over to his table.

  “Hello. I understand you’re Bill Hossam from the Portland Gazette. I’m Kelly Reynolds, a good friend of the new owner. Welcome to Mangia! Mangia!”

  Looking like a college professor in his sport coat with leather patches at the elbow, a bow tie, and horned rim glasses, the balding middle-aged man looked up from the antipasto platter he had ordered. “New owner? That was fast. Who is it?”

  “The new owner was a very good friend of Donatella DeLuca, the former owner and the woman who was found murdered this morning. Her name is Sophie Marchant.”

  “Never heard of her. What are her credentials for running a restaurant like this? Does she have any formal training? What other restaurants has she owned?”

  “I don’t believe she has any formal training, but Mrs. DeLuca thought enough of her skills that she provided in her Will that Mangia! Mangia! was to be bequeathed to her. That certainly says a lot about her faith in Mrs. Marchant.”

  “Not really. Donatella never tried anything new, and this restaurant reflects it. Everything on this menu was probably on a similar menu fifty years ago. I was getting ready to write a review of it when I heard she’d died. I was curious to see if anything would change. From what you’re telling me, I guess not. Might as well write my review and get it over with. Between a new owner and my review, I predict a very short life for this restaurant. Be good riddance. Donatella recently threatened me and told me I’d be very sorry if I wrote a bad review. I don’t like being threatened. Quite frankly, this place doesn’t deserve a good review. I can make or break a restaurant with my reviews, and this one probably needs to be broken,” he said arrogantly.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. Actually, I think the new owner is going to be making some changes. Would you do her a favor and hold off reviewing the restaurant for a few days or at least until she has a chance to put some of the new dishes on the menu?”

  “Why should I? New dishes from someone who’s never owned a restaurant and doesn’t have any formal training – it’ll probably be some Italian form of a tuna noodle potato chip casserole.”

  “I don’t think so. Donatella had a very good sous chef who was anxious to put some of his creations on the menu. I believe Mrs. Marchant is going to give him the chance.”

  “That piques my curiosity. Tell this mysterious Mrs. Marchant that I will give her one week. I’ll be back then, and if the new dishes don’t live up to what you’re telling me, I’ll publish the review I was planning to prior to the untimely death of Mrs. DeLuca.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hossam. I appreciate your courtesy, and I’m sure Mrs. Marchant will too. Buon appetito,” she said as she walked away from his table, trying to look as if nothing had happened.

  Sophie took one look at Kelly when she entered the kitchen and said, “Chérie, it was that bad?”

  “That is the most repulsive man I think I’ve ever met. He was hoping the restaurant would fail, and then his review would be justified.”

  “When is he going to publish it?” Nico asked.

  “I don’t know. I bought a little time. His main complaint seems to be that the dishes served here are like the dishes that were served in Italian restaurants fifty years ago. He said there was nothing new or innovative on the menu.” She turned to Sophie. “I didn’t know what else to say, so I told him the new owner and the sous chef were making plans to introduce a fantastic new menu. I asked him if he would hold off publishing his review until he’d had a chance to try the new menu. He said he would come back in a week and try it. I’m sorry, Sophie, that was the best I could do. I was afraid that with Donatella’s death and a bad review, it would mean the end of the restaurant.”

  “Nico, now we don’t have a choice. How soon can you have those new dishes of yours ready to be served to the diners?”

  “I’ve tested all of them several times. I’ll tell the staff they’ll be on the menu tomorrow and instruct them as to what they should say when the diners ask about them. We’ll need to get temporary paper menus printed up by tomorrow and if the dishes are well received, get new regular menus printed. I’ll make a list of what I’ll need.”

  “Give me the names of the dishes and their descriptions. I’ll go down the street to Hank’s Print Shop. I’ve had him print paper menus for me when I’ve entertained. He’s a very interesting individual, but he’ll get it done and on time,” Sophie said.

  “I’ll have them to you in half an hour. We’ll have the wait staff give the diners a paper menu along with the regular menus. This is going to work. Thanks for believing in me, Sophie,” he said, grinning as he wrote out the new menu items as fast as he could.

  “Nico. Make it legible. Hank will have to be able to read your writing in order to typeset it.”

  “Will do,” he muttered, totally engrossed in creating his new menu.

  “Kelly, let’s go to the office,” Sophie said. “I want to talk to you while Nico writes out the items to be included in the new menu.”

  A few minutes later they sat in the restaurant’s office, trying to absorb everything that had happened in the last few hours. “Kelly, do you really think I can do this?” Sophie asked.

  “Absolutely. I think you’re lucky to have Nico. If you can get a good restaurant review, that would be fabulous. You don’t have a choice. I know Donatella didn’t want to change the menu, but if you don’t, you could be looking at the restaurant closing before you even have a chance to see what it can do.”

  “I just hope I’m not, how do you say it? Something about being in the water and drowning?”

  “That’s not quite the way the saying goes. I think you’re trying to say ‘in over your head,’ but I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion and not drown. I think we could both use a cup of coffee. Just sit for a minute, and I’ll go get us some.”

  As she walked into the dining room area she saw a red-haired woman sitting at the bar speaking angrily in a loud voice and gesturing in a threatening manner at the tall bartender.

  CHAPTER 11

  Kelly walked to the far end of the bar and motioned to the bartender that she wanted to speak with him. He said something to the woman seated at the bar and walked over to where Kelly was standing.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I just tol
d that woman I wouldn’t serve her another martini. She started yelling at me and told me I didn’t know who she was. I know who she is, all right. Every bartender at Mangia! Mangia! knows who she is. She generally comes in after the lunch crowd leaves and has a couple of martinis. She gets real mouthy the more she drinks. Her name is Tina Ramos. She’s the ex-wife of the man Mrs. DeLuca was seeing before her death. She’s as mean as a rattlesnake, and she’s got a really bad temper.”

  “Stay here. I’ll go talk to her and ask her to leave. What exactly did you say to her?”

  “I told her I couldn’t serve her another martini, because I thought she was becoming intoxicated, and I was the one who could be sued.”

  “Thanks. I imagine this isn’t part of your job description.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  Kelly walked up to the beautiful redhead with brilliant deep blue eyes and a porcelain complexion. She was wearing a pink sheath dress which hugged her well-developed curves. “Mrs. Ramos, I’m Kelly Reynolds, a friend of the new owner of Mangia! Mangia! I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t come back.”

  “What are you talking about?” she slurred. “I’m just doin’ a little celebratin’. You know the woman who stole my husband from me’s dead. Seems they found her body this mornin’. Serves her right for doin’ that to me. Wish it would’ve happened sooner. Nothin’ wrong with me. Tell that idiot bartender to get me another martini.”

  “No. You’ve had enough. I don’t want to have to call the police and have them arrest you for disturbing the peace. I’m trying to help you. Please leave and don’t come back.”

  “You’d be celebratin’ too if the woman who took your husband wound up deader than a doornail. Me and Mitch were happy until she started showin’ up like a female dog in heat. Mitch never was able to resist a woman in heat. Shoulda’ told her that’s the way he is. Wasn’t the first time it happened, but he never wanted a divorce before. I always took him back. So who gets the restaurant, Mitch?”

  “No. The new owner is a woman by the name of Sophie Marchant, a friend of Donatella’s.”

  “Yeah, sure. Like she could have any friends. Her with her sexy Italian eyes and walk, teasin’ every man she saw. Heard Mitch was gonna star her in some TV show called Dining with Donatella. He probably thought her show was gonna save him and his station from bankruptcy. He never paid me any alimony, so I’m not gonna lose anything, but he sure is. Like his television station. Bet she didn’t know how broke he was. Whoever put her under the sod actually got both of them. Mitch’ll probably have to declare bankruptcy, and Donatella’s dead. I like those words. Got a real nice sound to them. Donatella’s dead. Kind of rolls off the tongue real nice and easy.”

  “Mrs. Ramos, if you don’t leave now, I’m going to tell the bartender to call the police. I’m giving you one more chance to leave. Now.”

  Tina struggled to get down from her perch on the bar stool and almost fell in the process, stumbling when her foot reached the floor. Kelly put a hand on her elbow to steady her. “Don’t touch me. I didn’t give you permission to touch me. I’m leavin’, and I won’t be back. I was jes’ celebrating’ the death of Donatella. You can color me happy. Mitch will get his, and she sure got hers, just like she deserved.”

  She staggered unsteadily towards the front door and opened it. “Tell yer’ friend this probably won’t last long. Donatella’s dead, and her restaurant will soon be just as dead as she is,” she said with a parting salvo. Tina walked out into the afternoon sun and Kelly watched her through the window, weaving along the sidewalk as she attempted to hail a cab.

  Thank heavens she has sense enough to get a cab and not try to drive. If the restaurant review doesn’t ruin us, a drunken customer in an auto accident might be the final death knell.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Reynolds,” the bartender said. “I didn’t know she was that drunk. I only served her two martinis. She must have been drinking before she came here. I hope that’s the last we see of her. I really appreciate you going to bat for me.”

  “Not a problem. Glad I was able to help. Hate to categorize people, but she sure has the temperament of the classic redhead fireball, and in her case the fire is obviously fueled by alcohol.”

  Kelly turned and walked back to the kitchen to see how Nico and Sophie were doing.

  “Chérie, would you do me a favor? Could you take the new menu to Hank’s Print Shop for me? His shop is just a few doors down the street. I’d go, but there is so much for me to learn. I think my time would be better spent staying here.”

  “Of course. I’ll take care of it. What kind of paper do you want it printed on and how many copies? Should I ask him if he could send the bill here, or do you want me to pay for it?”

  “Tell him I’m the new owner of the restaurant and to send the bill here. He knows I’m good for it. Nico, I think black ink on a pale rust colored paper would work. That’s similar to the color of the regular menu. Would that work for you?”

  “Yes. That sounds great. Kelly, I think you should order about five hundred copies. We usually wipe down the regular menus each day, but these won’t have a protective coating on them, so we’ll probably have to throw a lot of them away after we use them.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  CHAPTER 12

  When Kelly walked out the back door of the restaurant she involuntarily blinked as the sun on the warm August day was shining brightly. “Rebel, come,” she said to the big boxer who was sleeping by the door. They walked between the restaurant and the building next door, turning left onto the sidewalk as they started walking towards Hank’s Print Shop.

  Well, this is probably going to be my only time to explore the Pearl District and walking halfway down one street is not what I really had in mind. However, given everything that’s happened, I don’t think there’s any way Sophie and I will be able to take the exploratory trip I had in mind.

  She stopped and looked in the window of the antique shop that was next to the restaurant. The eclectic art deco style of the store was reflected in the sleek, geometric shapes and angular patterns of the furniture and decorative accessories. Highly lacquered veneer tables, chrome lamps, brightly colored Native American rugs, and exotic influences from Mexico, Africa, Egypt and Asia fit in perfectly with the feel of the Pearl District. It was a shop that cried out to be explored, and Kelly wished she had the time to do just that, but it wasn’t meant to be.

  Next to it was a postage stamp size dog park. Benches and bright red fire hydrants had been placed in a small grassy area between two buildings. Owners sat on the benches and their dogs frolicked in the fenced park. Kelly approvingly noticed that a hose to fill water dishes for the dogs was located at the rear of the enclosed area. Rebel stopped at the gate and looked up inquiringly at Kelly as if to say, “We could use a little break. It’s been a rough day. Let’s go in.”

  “Sorry, boy, not today. We’ve got things to do.”

  They passed an art gallery specializing in pen and ink drawings which were tastefully displayed on brightly colored easels and on the walls of the shop. In keeping with the theme of the nearby dog park, the artist had captured dogs in all kinds of activities. The black and white drawings were a great contrast to the vibrant bright colors which dominated the gallery.

  The building next to Hank’s was the home of a large yoga studio. As Kelly approached she saw several students entering the studio carrying bright yoga mats in greens, blues, and purples and wearing colorful yoga tops and pants. The studio window was filled with a large blow-up photograph of students sitting with their eyes closed and their hands on their knees in the classic serene lotus posture. The photograph made those who passed by the window want to feel as stress-free as the students in the class seemed to be. It was a great advertisement for yoga.

  When she got to the print shop she opened the glass door that had the words “Hank’s Print Shop” emblazoned in gold letters on it. She stepped into the
shop and shook her head in confusion. Fine art covered the walls and a beautiful large blue silk Chinese rug had been placed on the highly polished wooden floor. The bell above the door rang when Kelly opened it and moments later a small man wearing a leather apron over bermuda shorts walked out of the back room.

  “May I help you?” the man asked. Kelly smiled in befuddlement at the bearded man who wore diamond stud earrings and had a pony tail held in place by a barrette that looked to be made of onyx. “I’m really confused. The sign on the door says ‘Hank’s Print Shop,’ but I’ve never been in a print shop like this one.”

  “Good. That’s exactly the response I was looking for when I opened the shop. I didn’t want it to be like all the others, and this being the Pearl District, I figured I could get away with it.” He grinned and held out his hand. “I’m Hank Jones, the owner. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “No. My name is Kelly Reynolds. A friend of mine, Sophie Marchant, is the new owner of Mangia! Mangia! and I’m helping her.”

  “I heard about Donatella’s murder. That’s so sad. She was one of my customers, and I loved to eat at her restaurant. Matter of fact, I never charged her for what I did for the restaurant, and she never charged me for the food I ate. It was a great arrangement. So Sophie’s going to take it over. I’ve known Sophie for some time, and it sort of surprises me. I know she loves to cook, but I didn’t know she had any restaurant experience.”

  “She doesn’t. I own a coffee shop in Cedar Bay, and I came up here to cook dinner for a party she was giving for Donatella. When she found out about Donatella’s death, she asked if I’d stay for a couple of extra days and help her. The reason I’m here is I need five hundred temporary menus prepared. She told me you’ve done things like that for her dinner parties.”