A Dish Best Served Cold: An Italian Kitchen Mystery (Italian Kitchen Mystery, An)

by Rosie Genova

  * * *

  As the uncooperative Fates would have it, the Oceanside PD showed up at exactly the moment my dad’s silver Lexus pulled into the parking lot. My mom got out first, holding the door for my grandmother. My father followed, and all three stood rooted to the pavement when they spotted the police cars. I ran to meet them.

  “It’s okay, guys,” I said. “No one’s hurt, I promise.”

  My mother’s face drained of color, with only two bright spots of blush on her cheeks. “Honey, why are they here?”

  “I found something in the alley and I thought—”

  “That’s enough, Vic,” Danny said. “They might have to make formal statements.” His eyes were apologetic, but his expression was grim. “So please don’t say anything else.” He led them back to the restaurant, but all three of their faces were turned my way—my mother’s a study in concern, my dad’s full of confusion, and in my grandmother’s, a fury so cold I needed a sweater. I followed them back inside at a respectable distance and watched as my brother took my dad aside. Danny’s look was serious, questioning. My dad’s eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. I could guess the conversation: Pop, did you give Pete a bottle of wine? Absolutely not, son, no way.

  But somebody at the party had handed Stinky Pete at least one bottle of wine with a napkin from the dining room. Someone who either knew where the wine was kept or made a good guess at it. But I kept those thoughts to myself when the officers had questioned me, providing only the information for which they’d asked, and no more. Danny, of course, was not part of the investigation—it would be a conflict of interest for him. But he stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, his mouth a tight line of discontent. When I caught his eye, he nodded, his only gesture of encouragement, and a glance that said, It’s okay, sis, but I’m still not happy.

  In the end, the police didn’t talk to any of us. They milled about outside while I watched the clock anxiously. Dinner service was scheduled to start at five thirty, and police or no police, my grandmother would make sure the food got out on time. And judging from the line of patrons forming outside our doors, even the presence of two police cruisers didn’t dissuade the hungry and powerless, many of whom were carrying their phone chargers and computers.

  But they parted easily for my brother, who beckoned me from the doorway. “Listen, sis, you were right to call. And we confiscated the bottle. But I don’t think this is going anywhere. So Pop doesn’t have to worry and neither do you,” he said, emphasizing that last word.

  “But, Danny, I think somebody wanted Pete drunk enough to hurt himself or maybe worse—”

  He held up a warning hand. “Enough,” he said softly. “And be glad Pop’s not getting dragged into this.” He left through the kitchen, and soon after, we opened our doors to the crowd outside.

  After that, the work never let up. Jason called in sick at the last minute, so we had no busboy, causing Flo to grumble long and loud about selfish kids who only thought about themselves. But I was happy to lose myself in the tasks of talking about the specials, taking orders, and serving people who couldn’t cook for themselves. From time to time I’d glance over at the rest of the waitstaff, wondering if they were mentally calling me names, with Tattletale and Goody Two-shoes among the kindest. If I’d had even a second to myself during dinner service, I’d have called Sofia, the one person I knew would wholeheartedly support me. Though Lori seemed sympathetic, she had trouble meeting my eye, and I was feeling more foolish by the minute. My parents were thankfully busy out at the bar, and unsure what he might say to me, I stayed away from Tim. Between tables, I busied myself at the coffee station, readying the cappuccino maker and filling the hot water carafe for tea. Flo appeared at my elbow.

  “That tea water hot yet?” she said without looking at me.

  “I just filled it; probably a couple of minutes, Flo.”

  “That’s just great,” she said, letting out a loud huff. “I got a nasty customer back there who don’t want to wait.”

  We stood in silence while the water heated; when it was finally ready, Flo took a cup with shaking hands. Hot water spilled into the saucer and she let out a curse that would have gotten her fired if my grandmother had been in earshot.

  “Are you okay?” I asked her.

  “Oh, I’m just ducky,” she hissed. “The place is crawling with cops; I run my ass off for crappy tips in a place where I have to bus my own tables, and people have a habit of dropping dead when they leave.” She set the teacup on her tray and turned to me, her hostility washing over me like an ocean wave. “In fact, I don’t need this. I don’t need any of this. Consider this my notice, Victoria. After tonight I’m done with the Casa Lido, so take me off the damn schedule.”

  She pointed her finger at me, and I noticed her chipped nail polish and bitten cuticles. “And while you’re at it, you can say buh-bye to that crazy grandmother of yours for me.” She narrowed her eyes at me, malice written all over her heavily made-up face. “By the way,” she said, “when I was in high school, we had a name for people like you: narc. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

  I cringed as though she’d hit me, but before I could answer, she stalked away, hiking up her skirt as she went. So now we were down a waitress, and that was my fault, too.

  I better tell Mom and Dad now, I thought as I headed back to the office. Let them tell my so-called crazy grandmother. Unfortunately, said grandmother was waiting for me in the hallway. Instead of her typical scowl, her expression was as tight and smooth as Italian marble. But there was no masking the anger in her eyes.

  She leaned in close to me, her voice harsh. “What were you doing out in that alley, Victoria?”

  I looked at her steadily, determined not to flinch. “Though I’m tempted to, I won’t lie to you, Nonna. Nando told me that when Pete left the party, he was carrying a shopping bag that looked heavy. I wondered if someone gave him something to drink.”

  “The only thing I gave him to drink was water!” she rasped.

  “I know that, Nonna. But what Nando said got me thinking. I figured if Pete had been given wine, he might have wanted a drink so badly that he wouldn’t wait. That he’d find somewhere to have it right away. So I checked the alley on a hunch.”

  “A hunch,” she said, her disgust evident. “You think you are a detective, miss, but you are not. So Pete stole a bottle of wine and got drunk. For that you call the police? Do you know the trouble you could have brought on us, on my son—your own father!” Then she used the most powerful weapon in her verbal arsenal: “You have no family feeling, Victoria.”

  I closed my eyes and took a breath before I answered. “A man is dead, Nonna,” I said. “A man you knew. Isn’t it important to find out the truth about what happened to him?”

  “We know what happened to him, and it was an accident!” She stabbed a finger inches from my face. “What’s important is family. Family first, we taught you that.”

  I closed my hand around hers. “You also taught me right from wrong. That’s why I called Danny. It was Danny who brought the police here, but I don’t see you ripping into him.”

  She pulled her hand from mine and crossed her arms. “Daniele was doing his job.”

  “Right,” I said, tasting the bitterness on my tongue. “When it’s my brother, it’s okay.”

  “What do you care?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “For eight years you stayed away. For eight years you could barely be bothered to visit us. Suddenly, you’re back. Suddenly, you’re interested in the business.”

  “You know why I stayed away. I couldn’t bear to be here,” I said, my voice finally breaking.

  She shook her head, either in pity or disgust—I couldn’t really tell. “Your father should never have hired him back.” She pointed back to the kitchen doors, behind which Tim was working in the kitchen. “And he’ll hurt you again, Victoria, if you let him. You know he will.”
>
  I swiped my eyes with the backs of my hands, and as I watched her walk away, I thought about a line from a poem I’d read in high school. Was it Robert Frost? Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in. Well, they’d taken me in. But today the Casa Lido didn’t feel very much like home.

  * * *

  I waited until the last diners had cleared out before sneaking out to the parking lot, trying not to give in to the tears that were threatening to overtake me. In the distance, I could see a figure heading toward me, lifting his hand in greeting. I walked toward him slowly, shoulders sagging, wearing my mortification like a sign.

  I looked up at him, blinking back the tears. “Oh my God, Cal, it’s been such a horrible day.”

  He folded his arms around me. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

  So I did, and afterward, let myself have a good cry against Cal’s chest while he stroked my hair. “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes, thanks,” I said weakly, still sniffling. “But I’m still embarrassed. And now I got your shirt wet.”

  “No matter, cher. I’ve had many a worse thing on it.” He took a folded blue bandanna from his back pocket and held it up. “It’s clean, just so’s you know.” He blotted the tears from my face and then handed it to me. “Now give her a good blow.”

  I did as he said, wiped my nose, and held the crumpled cloth in my fist. “You’re not getting this back until I wash it.”

  He pushed a strand of hair from my face and gripped my shoulders. “Listen to me. You did the right thing, Victoria. Even if it did come to nothin.’ Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

  I nodded, unconvinced, until I saw my dad emerge from the back door. He wasn’t wearing his hat and his face was serious. My stomach sank.

  “I heard what Cal said, baby,” he said. “And I agree with him. Course you did the right thing. Mommy thinks so, too.”

  “Daddy, I’m so relieved,” I said, letting out a breath. “I’ve been feeling awful all night.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed me in one of his familiar sideways hugs. “You got nothin’ to feel bad about, sweetheart. And I hope you’re not worried about your old man. I didn’t give Pete that bottle.”

  But that doesn’t mean your prints won’t be on it. “I know you didn’t,” I said.

  “And I feel bad about poor old Pete, I really do, but nobody at the restaurant had anything to do with his death. Hey, for all we know, Pete stole that bottle of wine.”

  And did he steal a napkin, too? Or was that the work of someone else, someone who didn’t want to leave fingerprints on the bottle? I glanced at Cal, whose expression was skeptical, but he gave me a quick nod. “You could be right, Dad,” I said. “Let’s hope, huh?”

  “Hope’s what I’ve got plenty of, baby,” he said with a wink. “Hope and luck. Now dry those eyes and come back inside.” He motioned for us to follow, but just as we opened the door, the lights in the kitchen flickered.

  Tim looked up from scrubbing the sink. “What the—?” Before he could finish his question, the vent fan groaned to a stop, and the loud hum of the walk-in fridge was suddenly stilled.

  “Oh no,” I said, just as every light in the kitchen—in fact, the whole restaurant—went dark. That old generator had finally given up, and it appeared the famous Frank Rienzi luck was about to run out.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next day, my ever-resourceful family held a giant lunchtime barbecue at the Casa Lido. The minute we lost power, my grandmother divided all the perishable food among those with working refrigerators (keeping a careful inventory, naturally) with orders to bring everything back in the morning. We cooked every vegetable and every piece of meat and fish outside, with Tim, Nando, and even Chef Massi working the outdoor grill. We put a sign outside advertising a prix fixe grilled luncheon, and by eleven thirty we had yet another line of customers outside the Casa Lido doors—one that included our mayor, Ms. Anne McCrae.

  “Oh, Victoria,” she said, waving me over. “I don’t suppose you could find me a table right away? I do need to be back to my office as soon as possible.” She flashed me a bright, fake smile. “No rest for the weary!”

  “I’ll see what I can do, Anne.”

  “You do that, dear,” she called as I hurried away. “And then maybe we can have a chat about that little fool’s errand you sent my police force out on.”

  I skidded to a halt out on the sidewalk. Of course the mayor would know what the police had confiscated from that alley. And did she plan to use that information against us? I doubled back, a smile plastered on my face. “Anne, why don’t you come with me and I’ll get you seated now?”

  “Why, thank you. That’s very kind.” She followed me into the dining room, where I led her to a small table in the corner. “Now, this is very cozy,” she said as she settled into her seat.

  “I’ll bring you some water right away,” I said. “Would you like something from the bar?”

  She sat up straight in her chair. “I’m a city official on duty, dear. Water will be fine. But don’t hurry away just yet, Victoria.”

  I tried to affect a cheery tone. “Well, I’d like to stay and talk, but you saw that line out there.”

  “This won’t take long. Sit,” she said in a tone with which there was no arguing. I sat. “Good. First of all, I’d like to say that what you did yesterday was admirable in its way, but it was completely unnecessary.”

  “You mean when I called the police about the wine bottle?”

  “Do keep your voice down, dear,” she said through her teeth. “You need to understand something. That man’s death was unfortunate, but it was an accident. He was an elderly alcoholic who drank too much and likely drowned in that carousel house. In fact, the sooner we sell that carousel, the sooner we can put all this behind us here in Oceanside Park.”

  “But—”

  She held up a callused palm. “As the Bard once said, but me no buts. Consider this a friendly warning, Victoria. Please don’t attempt to do any investigating”—here she made air quotes—“of your own. It will only bring more trouble to your family.” She cocked her head and looked at me steadily. “We’ve already had one murder in this town. Now, I don’t think for a moment that anyone here gave Mr. Petrocelli that bottle of wine; as I said, I firmly believe his death was an accident.” Her gray eyes were hard. “But that might not be the perception in town. And such a perception would not be good for the Casa Lido, would it?”

  “No,” I said quietly. “It wouldn’t.”

  “So we understand each other, then?” She shook open her napkin and spread it across her lap. “Good. Now if you could bring me a diet cola and some rolls, that would be wonderful. Thanks, dear.”

  “Oh, you’re very welcome, Anne,” I muttered under my breath. What had I started? What was I bringing down on my family? And for that matter, the town: Calling attention to Pete’s death gave Anne the perfect excuse to close down the carousel house. I threw some rolls into a basket with shaking hands; when I looked up, I saw Lori at the drinks station pouring a soda. I waved her over.

  “Listen, L.J.,” I said, “I’m sorry about bringing the police here yesterday. I’m still kinda mortified about it all.”

  Lori set the drink down and slipped her arm through mine. “What were you gonna do, pretend that bottle wasn’t there? I know you better than that, girlfriend. You wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night.” She lowered her voice. “And I also know you think somebody offed Pete—am I right?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. I can’t help thinking somebody gave him that wine on purpose.”

  “You know what? I trust your instincts. But if you’re planning to run around asking people questions, be careful, okay?”

  “I will be. I’m a wuss, remember?”

  She grinned, her round, freckled face full of warmt
h. “Only when it comes to boardwalk rides. I remember it well.”

  “Ah yes, our teenage years—when you would try anything once and I would hold your purse while you did it. Thanks for listening, pal.” I handed her the basket. “Now would you mind bringing these over to Her Honor and taking her lunch order? I presume the drink is hers?”

  “You presume right. She caught me on the way in.”

  “Of course she did. Okay, time to let in the rest of the hungry hordes. Has Alyssa come in yet?”

  Lori nodded. “She was just getting her apron on in the back. But today’s her last day, you know. Says she’s got to get ready to get back to school.”

  “And her sorority, no doubt.”

  “I hear you two girls talking about me!” Alyssa stood with her hands on her hips, a pose that was undercut by her wide smile. “I’m so going to miss working with you both. We’ve had such fun this summer!”

  Sure we have. Except for that dead guy in the carousel house. But it was hard to be cranky in the face of such perkiness. “Yes, we have,” I said.

  “It wasn’t so much fun yesterday,” Lori said. She lifted the basket of rolls. “I better get these over to the mayor.”

  Alyssa turned to me, her blue eyes wide. “What did she mean? What happened yesterday?”

  So there was at least one person in Oceanside Park who hadn’t heard about our visit from the police. Well, she’d hear about it at some point today. And if I was the one who told her, I might learn something she knew or remembered from the night of the party. “The police were here,” I said. “I, uh, called them when I found a wine bottle in the alley next to the restaurant.”