And when they finally reached her stop, she almost missed it because she was so busy looking around. When she found herself on the dock she was breathless, but her suitcase was beside her and her backpack hanging securely on her back.
It was late afternoon and the sun was beating directly overhead. She felt terribly thirsty and wondered if she had time for a drink at one of the inviting sidewalk cafes lining the waterfront. She glanced at her watch and decided she would make time. She was on vacation and besides Emily had called the hotel to ascertain they would hold the triple room until she arrived.
She took a seat at a table at the outside edge of the group of tables where she could keep her suitcase next to her out of everyone’s way. She had drunk almost half of the frosty orange juice she ordered before she noticed a huge ocean liner was docked down the wharf to her left. No wonder there were so many tourists here. She had heard cruising was a wonderful experience, but had never had the pleasure. Well, she thought, Some time, perhaps. Actually, with her urging, her mother had signed up for a cruise to Alaska with her church group. Unfortunately, that cruise was scheduled for the same time as the Culinary Retreat, so the church ladies were onboard but Millie had to change her booking to a September cruise. Claire shrugged, feeling no remorse for her role in her mother’s aborted cruise. The Culinary Retreat was too good an opportunity to pass up. And, as Millie was retired now, two trips in her first year would be good for what ails her, and if nothing ails her, they would still be good for her.
She carefully checked her map and then bravely started out once more in search of her hotel. She followed the signs for Rialto Bridge, frequently crossing canals, lifting her bag up the stairs and then hauling it down the other side. She was grateful she had the foresight to stop for a drink, because it seemed a long time before she located the hotel. In fact, she suspected she might have been traveling in circles because all of the bridges were starting to look familiar.
Alloggi Riva was a small place, recommended by Marianne Peabody. She said it was centrally located, comfortable and very clean. And the lobby created a good first impression with open windows looking right onto the canal flowing beside it. Senora Sorenson was very welcoming and her English, while basic, was good enough to explain that the nun sitting with her was Sister Marie Terese, her sister as well as a nun. There had been a death in the family, so Sister Marie Terese was on bereavement leave. Sister Marie Terese had no English but she was trying to learn. She smiled cordially at Claire.
Senora Sorenson bobbed her head at Claire’s attempt to express her sympathy. “No, no. We do not grieve. What is death but a part of living? Our aunt led a long and fruitful life. We will miss her, but we have been blessed with her presence for many years.”
Claire nodded, thinking it a very healthy way of regarding the death of a loved one.
Despite the twenty or so years Senora Sorenson had on Claire, she picked up the wheelie bag as if it weighed nothing and led Claire up the steep stairs. Claire was embarrassed by her shortness of breath by the time they reached the top, because it didn’t seem to bother Senora Sorenson at all. But when she pushed open the door and Claire stepped into the room, she forgot about the stairs. The large room was sparsely furnished with three beds, two chairs, a small writing table and large corner windows which overlooked the meeting of two canals. The pleasant room was cheerful and airy. As she watched, a gondola and a barge loaded with boxes came to the corner from opposite directions. The barge tooted a horn and the gondola gave way. It was a wonderful view.
Senora pointed out the features of the room and then left Claire to get settled. She promptly pulled one of the chairs to the window and sat down to watch the action for a while, thrilled that Venice was every bit as good, if not better than she imagined.
* * *
“What do you mean? Tell him to send someone else, someone with some guts. How hard can it be to take care of her? I can’t believe she’s still there.
“The trial starts in less than sixty days. Sixty! I need to know they won’t have any witnesses to testify against me.” His voice changed from bullying to pleading. “Pop, why can’t you send one of your own guys? Then we’d know it was done right.”
“Don’t worry, Sonny. I’ll take care of it. I took care of the others, didn’t I? You keep calm, stay out of trouble and you’ll soon be free. Trust me.”
Sonny nodded. “Pop, I know you’re gonna take care of it, but this place is driving me crazy. I gotta get out of here. I’ve been here too long. I know, I know I hadda stay put while you took care of all the witnesses. But now I’m going bonkers; now I just want out. Please, just get rid of her for me.” He didn’t realize his voice had slipped into the whinny pleading tone he had used to get his way since he was a kid.
He hung up the pay phone slowly. He ignored the others in line, who had been waiting patiently for their turn, concerned only with his needs. He was confident no one would object; they all knew what happened to anyone who crossed him. Three thugs with strong ties to his father were in here with him. They saw to it that Sonny was protected. They made sure he continued to be pampered in the way he had always been, albeit in a more confined manner.
Sonny turned away and headed for the exercise yard still thinking about the trial looming on his horizon and how the incompetent Italians had botched the simple task of eliminating the last witness.
He had been here way too long. They had arrested him more than a year ago. This facility was never meant for long term incarceration. Almost everyone here was waiting for trial, so there was a sense of anxiety amongst the residents as they worked out their strategy while fitting into the daily routine. When he was first sent here and his lawyers had begun a constant stream of actions and motions intended to delay his trial, specifically to give his father time to make sure that all damaging witnesses had been removed, he was willing to be patient. And they thought they had been successful, and so the trial date had been set and he began to look forward to his freedom once again. Then they learned about the secret witness who had been closeted away.
Sonny reached into his pocket for a cigarette, pausing in the lee of the building to protect the match flame while he lit up. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke drift lazily out his nostrils while he looked around for his guys. He didn’t see them in the corner of the exercise yard they had claimed as their own. He moved forward, wondering where they were.
The secret witness had been a nasty surprise. Suddenly it didn’t look as if beating this rap was a sure thing.
Kristen, he remembered, was a babe. And he recalled how well she danced. He had been putting the moves on her since he first saw her. Now he admitted grimly she was hot, but she certainly wasn’t worth the chance he would fry. No babe was.
California had the electric chair. That thought gave Sonny pause even though he admitted he had never thought of it before his arrest. Somehow, it had never occurred to him he would be held accountable for his actions.
No, Kristen was expendable. She needed to disappear and stay gone. He didn’t know what she saw, but it must have been good enough for them to fake her death and spirit her away. It took a lot of money for his father to even learn of her existence say nothing about her whereabouts, then he started calling in favors to make sure she was taken out. But so far nothing had worked and the trial date was getting closer.
A shadow swept over him and he looked to his right and saw Ben Hoa silently keeping pace with him. He showed no reaction, keeping his cool demeanor as his eyes swiveled to his left and saw Huey Chou. They had him boxed in and were moving closer to him. Sonny swiveled his head, looking for his own guys, at the same time preparing himself to be jumped. He knew why they were here. They told him more than once that they owned the candy store. They worked for the Vietnamese Triad and thought they had the exclusive right to the prison drug trade.
Sonny had ignored them. They were nothing! He would do his own dealing just as he had outside. And he knew his father would protect him.
>
But now he was alone. Neither his father, nor his father’s men were near. As he was being crowded into a narrow area near the wall he realized these guys were deadly serious about protecting their territory.
“What’s going on? You guys wanna talk?” He tried to sound reasonable. He gasped; the burning sensation in his belly was sudden. He didn’t have time to panic, the knives came from all directions and momentarily he was past noticing anything.
* * *
“Hi Sam. Where are your card playing friends?” Millie asked when Sam wandered into the small piazza where she sat with her book.
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I hope they’re not playing without me.”
“I don’t think so. Ruth says you’re the one with all the money.”
He smiled. “Ah, your friend Ruth is quite a woman.”
Ruth had told her that of all the players, Sam was the real card shark. He used his aged look and his somewhat vague manner to throw the others off his game.
“Say, Sam?” She decided to say something. “Is LiAnn all right?”
He looked at her with surprise. “All right? What do you mean?”
“Well, I just thought she was acting a little funny today.” She didn’t think it prudent to tell Sam about the bad mood LiAnn had been in all day or how grouchy she was, instead saying lamely, “I wondered if she was feeling okay.”
Sam shrugged again. “Oh, LiAnn gets in her moods. I hope she didn’t offend anyone, sometimes she can be pretty demanding, especially if things aren’t going the way she wants. It’s usually the family, you see. She always worries about family and frankly she worries too much over things she should just let be.” He looked at Millie with a twinkle in his eye. “If she was a true Zen she’d just go with the flow.”
Millie nodded; she couldn’t fault LiAnn for worrying. She was guilty of that herself and she only had one child. “I’m sure that must have been what it was.”
George entered the piazza with Stephen and Zoe. “There you are Sam. How about some cards? Only four handed today, because Ruth and Jacques are fixing our dinner.” He looked at her. “Unless Millie wants to play?” He was hoping new money would be added to the mix.
She laughed. “Not a chance. I’m hanging on to my money; I’ve heard about your games.” She buried her nose in her book again as they took up their customary places in the shaded corner.
CHAPTER 13
Millie looked around the lobby and spotted Randy and Renee. She waved and walked over to join them. “Are we ready for our outing?”
They grinned back at her, obviously looking forward to their adventure.
George came up with LiAnn. “All set. Let’s find Chef Martin.”
“I’ve got the list.” Randy, in charge of their shopping excursion, held up his piece of paper. “Let’s hope we find everything we need, or we’ll be making last minute modifications to the menu.”
It was a beautiful morning. If there had been any low hanging fog on the hills it was long gone now. Instead the light was peachy colored, the sky was startling blue and the hills green with early grass or darkly lined with green vines. It was a pleasant drive, but they were anxious to begin their shopping; their dinner tonight depended on the items they would purchase. Finally their van pulled into the small village which hosted market day each Tuesday. The village square was swarming with people, converted recreational vehicles and bright canvas covered stands. They could see a large variety of food stuffs. In addition, there were clothes, household goods and luxury items of every type available for sale.
“It’s best if we secure the meat and fish first,” Chef Martin told them. “Refresh me, what’s on the menu?”
“Stuffed cabbage rolls, Braised lamb shanks with mushrooms on polenta and Fillet of Turbot stuffed with spinach and shallots in a Hollandaise sauce.”
Chef Martin nodded his approval. “Well, if we don’t find Turbot we like, we can substitute another fish without too much problem. I would think there will be plenty of lamb this early in the year. I saw a butcher yesterday who might have what we want, if I can locate where he’s set up today. The problem will be quantity. How many do you want?”
Randy conferred with Renee and then said, “We need at least twenty-five, possibly thirty, if they have them.”
Chef Martin thought. “I think you’re over-estimating. Remember, serving three entrees means you will serve smaller portions of each. If you crack the shanks into two or three sections you can serve a portion instead of a whole shank. Let’s say we could do it with twelve, huh?”
“I wouldn’t want to run out.” Millie was hesitant.
“Ahh, the dreaded ‘not enough’ syndrome. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty. I’m guessing there will even be leftovers. But first we need to find the lamb shanks.”
He led them confidently into the market. It reminded Millie somewhat of the outdoor market she had visited in Florence with Claire and Ruth. But while that one sold items to satisfy the tourists’ appetites, this was aimed for the locals’ needs. She was surprised at seeing how the big RV’s were modified into modern, compact shops on wheels. They parked in the market stall and lifted the side of their vehicle to form an awning to protect the customers from the weather while they examined the displays of goods. Inside the vehicle they had freezers, cold boxes, lights and any of the tools needed for their trade. She saw poultry vendors with cases of eggs as well as chickens, ducks and geese. There were cheese vendors with dizzying assortments of cheeses, each only too happy to provide a taste if the customer desired. There was a dairy shop which sold milk, cream and butter. One man sold only mushrooms, both fresh and dried. And there were numerous farm stands. The farmers didn’t use the fancy shops on wheels; their tables of goods were covered with canvas awnings to protect their vegetables from the searing sun or the occasional rainstorm. Sometimes their truck was backed right up to the stand, so they could sell right off the truck. As vast as the market was it was plain to see that it was only temporary. Tomorrow there would be no trace it had even existed, but next Tuesday it would be here again.
Under Chef Martin’s guidance they made a complete tour of the food selections in the market to identify the offerings before they began to shop. He told them it was a good way to make sure they bought the freshest at the best price. And one of the most important elements of the school was the price. For each session they were required to not only provide the recipe, the ingredients and the steps in making the item, but also the price of the dish for the menu. It was an exercise that kept them all keenly aware of what their ingredients cost.
They were having a good time, chatting amongst themselves as they evaluated each vendor’s offerings. LiAnn was a different person today, alert, energetic and happy. Millie thought it was almost as if she had taken some mood-altering drug. Rather than question the change she was just grateful she would be working with today’s LiAnn instead of yesterday’s version. This afternoon in the kitchen, Millie would be the acting Head Chef. She was relieved that responsibility wouldn’t require her to coax LiAnn through one of her moods.
They were lucky to find a fish monger with fresh Turbot. They spent some time discussing if they wanted to buy fillets or whole fish. Chef Martin stood to the side allowing them to make the decision. LiAnn thought whole fish were too much work. Randy thought they would pay for a lot of waste. But Renee insisted they would have perfect fillets only if they filleted them. George nodded his agreement. That was enough for Millie. If the two professional chefs wanted to fillet the fish, she was going to agree with them. And after they had purchased the fish Chef Martin nodded his approval of their decision before leading them on to the butcher shops.
They found a butcher, who had the equivalent of five lambs, but they decided that twelve shanks, cracked in three pieces would be plenty as Chef Martin had suggested. They carefully selected the shanks they wanted and waited while he cracked them to their specifications. And the same man agreed to grind the beef they wanted for the cabbage r
olls. While he was preparing their order Randy sent LiAnn and Renee off to purchase the cabbages and sauerkraut. Then, he sent Millie and George off to buy spinach and leeks.
“Let’s meet in twenty minutes at that little café we saw near the entrance.” Then he called out to Millie, “And mushrooms. You and George get the mushrooms for us, will you?”
They nodded their agreement moving purposefully into the crowd.
“George this spinach is beautiful. Look how fresh it is.”
At George’s nod she filled two bags, still operating on the assumption that more was better.
At the next stand George found leeks which would meet his standards and examined the display of mushrooms carefully.
“Wait, let’s get the mushrooms at that rolling store we saw near the front. They had a huge selection of both fresh and dried. I think we can get a nice variety there.”
The vendor’s disappointment at the loss of the mushroom sale was somewhat appeased when they purchased the leeks. Then they moved toward the front of the market. The mushroom selection was extensive and, while the price was higher than the other vegetable vendors, they both agreed the quality justified the price. George was loaded down with bags having insisted he would carry them all. Millie was right behind him when she glimpsed the display of colorful Italian pottery behind the mushroom vendor.
“George, look at the gorgeous pottery; let’s take a few minutes to look.”
George groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Don’t be such a spoil sport. It’s too good a chance to pass up. Look, there’s the café and only Chef Martin and Randy are there. You go join them and order me a cappuccino. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
She hurried; she wouldn’t dare keep them all waiting while she shopped, but she just had to stop. And it really only took her ten minutes to purchase two platters, a rectangle shaped baking dish and a large pitcher. And five of those minutes were spent while the vendor wrapped the pottery. When she got back to the café, struggling with her awkward bundles, the others were all there enjoying their coffees.
Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics Page 17