by B R Snow
“Shut it,” Chef Claire said, again wiping her mouth. “Salami. Interesting choice.”
“It’s not too salty is it?”
“It’s delicious,” Georgio said as he rapidly worked his way through his bowl.
Chef Claire, puzzled, glanced at Josie.
“Probably not a word I would use,” Josie whispered.
“What the heck is he talking about?”
“He must be sucking up, right?”
“And he doesn’t want to say or do anything to blow whatever deal they’re working on,” Chef Claire said, nodding. “Yeah, I can make that work.”
A loud knock on the front door caused everyone to stop eating momentarily.
“I’ll get it,” Marco said, getting up from his chair.
Moments later, he returned trailed by Commissario Bruno. The detective glanced around the table and nodded his approval at the collection of serving bowls.
“Everything looks fantastic,” Commissario Bruno said. “It must be soup night. I love soup.”
“Have a seat,” Marco said. “We have plenty.”
“No, I can’t stay, thanks.”
“Oh, you must try the minestrone, Commissario,” Josie said.
She grabbed a clean spoon and placed it in her bowl then held it out to him. He gave it some thought then nodded and accepted the bowl.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Chef Claire whispered.
“You’re just pissed because I thought of it first.”
They watched as he took a sip, flinched, then quickly recovered. He forced down another spoonful then set the bowl on the table and wiped his mouth before reaching for the glass of water Rosa was holding out.
“Just like your mama used to make, huh?” Josie said with a grin.
“Sure, let’s go with that,” he said, giving Josie a sideways glance before turning all business. “I just stopped by to let you know you’re all free to go.”
“Have you found the murderer?” Betty said.
“No, we haven’t,” Commissario Bruno said. “And I have to say, I don’t like our chances. But since we have no reason to keep you here, feel free to leave whenever you’re ready.”
“Have you figured out what killed them?” Betty said.
“No, our lab is still working on it,” he said, subconsciously glancing at the bowl of minestrone. “Since we don’t have a clue what we’re dealing with, we are proceeding very cautiously.”
“Just so you don’t end up killing one of your techs in the process?” Betty said.
“Something like that,” the detective said. “If anything changes, or if I need to speak with any of you, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks for all your hard work, Commissario,” Marco said.
“I’m afraid I didn’t do much,” he said, then took another look around. “It was nice meeting all of you. Try to enjoy the rest of your dinner.”
“Take good care of Rico,” Josie said.
“Oh, I will,” he said, beaming. “He’s waiting for me in the car. I should get going. Take care and travel safely.”
He waved then headed for the door. Moments later, the sound of his car heading down the driveway could be heard. A server arrived carrying a large bowl and began serving.
“What’s the next course, Enrico?”
“It’s the wedding soup, sir.”
“Wonderful. Josie’s dish,” Marco said, focusing on her. “Would you like to describe your dish before or after we try it?”
“Oh, let’s do it after,” Josie said, then muttered under her breath. “I gotta this taste out of my mouth.”
Chef Claire stifled a snort then sampled the soup and nodded her approval.
“Well done.”
“Thanks,” Josie said. “You were right. Making the stock from scratch makes all the difference.”
“So, Georgio,” Rosa said, not looking up from her bowl of soup. “Now that the police have removed the travel ban, where are you headed next?”
“If I didn’t know better, Rosa,” Georgio said, flashing her a crocodile smile. “I’d swear you were trying to get rid of me.”
“Relax, Georgio,” Marco said, laughing nervously. “She’s not saying any such thing. Isn’t that right, dear?”
“What?” Rosa said, glancing at her husband.
“I’m sure you agree,” Marco said, forcing a smile.
“I do,” she said, briefly glaring at Georgio before refocusing on her bowl. “Chef Claire’s right. The wedding soup is excellent.”
“Please, Rosa,” Marco said. “Not tonight.”
“All I asked was where he was headed next,” she said softly. “It’s not that hard of a question.”
“Rosa,” Marco whispered. “Let’s not do this here.”
“It’s okay, Marco,” Georgio said as he reached for his wine glass. “If you must know, Rosa, Lance has invited me to California. We’re going to partner up on a new venture. And he’s going to teach me how to surf. It’s something I’ve always wanted to learn.”
“Surfing with the sharks, huh?” Rosa said with a big grin. “You should feel right at home.”
“Here we go,” Josie whispered.
“Yeah,” Chef Claire whispered back. “Stay on your toes. Betty said she was thinking about pushing the conversation tonight. This might be her best chance.”
“You’ll have to excuse my wife, Georgio,” Marco said. “I think she may have had a bit too much wine.”
“I haven’t had nearly enough,” Rosa said, reaching for a bottle sitting nearby.
“Whereabouts in California do you live, Lance?” Betty said.
“Near San Diego,” he said with a shrug. “But I go up and down the coast as needed.”
“Wherever the waves take you, right?” Betty said.
“Exactly,” Lance said, raising his glass in salute.
Betty returned the salute then took a sip before focusing on Georgio.
“Why surfing?”
“I like the idea of a man alone against the elements,” Georgio said, going for philosophical.
“Conquering Mother Nature, right?” Betty said, her smile now permanent.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Georgio said, nodding. “And she certainly does need to be tamed from time to time.”
“Good luck with that,” Josie said.
“I’m sorry. But I’m not following,” Georgio said, glancing at her.
“Trying to tame Mother Nature,” Josie said.
“You don’t agree with the concept?” he said.
“Actually, I think it’s an exercise in futility,” Josie said.
“Interesting. How so?” Georgio said.
“A couple of things,” Josie said, swirling the wine in her glass. “We live in an area where Mother Nature’s power is on full display during the winter months.”
“You got that right,” Betty said, nodding. “Cold, wind, snow, ice. Oh, Canada.”
“You gonna start singing your national anthem?” Georgio said, then laughed.
“I don’t sing,” Betty said, her smile fading.
“But the main reason I think it’s futile is because you can’t beat Mother Nature. We’re barely able to play her to a tie at the moment,” Josie said.
“Awkward sports metaphors aside, why do you say that?” Georgio said, placing his elbows on the table and leaning forward.
“Because when she’s good and ready, and we’ve finally ticked her off to the point where she decides to do something about it, Mother Nature will shake us off faster than our dogs can get rid of a flea,” Chef Claire said.
“What she said,” Josie said, nodding at Chef Claire before taking another sip of wine.
“Are you saying you’re not concerned about the future of the planet?” Lance said.
“I’m not saying that at all,” Josie said. “Quite the opposite. I was merely pointing out the futility of trying to control the natural order by constantly doing stupid stuff that only makes things worse.”
“They’re certainly part of it,” Josie said.
“But not nearly all,” Chef Claire said.
“Yeah, we can’t forget corporate greed and corruption,” Josie said.
“So, I take it you two are lefties,” Georgio said.
“No, we’re both righthanded,” Josie deadpanned.
Everyone laughed, breaking the tension at the table. But it quickly returned, and Georgio fixed a hard stare on Josie.
“So, what’s your solution?” he said.
“Well, the people who ultimately run the place could stop doing stupid crap around the planet,” Josie said. “Maybe if people had a chance to catch their breath for a while, things might start to improve.”
“Nah,” Georgio said, shaking his head. “It’s not gonna happen. Besides, it wouldn’t work.”
“Why’s that?” Betty said.
“Because there are simply too many people,” Georgio said, sitting back and spreading his hands apart to emphasize his point. “There will never be enough resources to go around to handle the billions who live here.”
“But you’re working on that, right, Georgio?” Rosa said, tossing back the rest of her wine before refilling her glass.
“Try to control your wife, Marco,” Georgio said, not even bothering to glance down the table. He glanced across the table at all three women before finally fixing another hard stare on Josie. “So, your solution is to let Mother Nature do her thing and see what happens?”
“Not at all,” Josie said, shaking her head. “All I’m saying is we might want to try working with her once in a while.”
“I see,” Georgio said, chuckling. “Because if we don’t, mankind is somehow doomed?”
“Doomed is such a harsh term,” Josie said. “But I will say, if the people who run the place don’t start making some changes pretty soon, I don’t like our chances.”
“We’ll all be long gone before it’s a real problem,” Georgio said, waving it off. “Let future generations worry about it.”
“I’d like to make a toast,” Rosa said, raising her glass.
“Please, don’t,” Marco whispered.
“To Georgio and his merry band of men. May short-term, self-interest continue to rule the day,” Rosa said, glaring down the table. “Join me in toast and raise your glasses. To the Bottom- Feeders. May Mother Nature take you first. And may her justice be swift…and painful.”
“Okay, I think I’ve had enough for one week,” Georgio said, sliding his chair back and standing. “You know, Lance, I think there’s a late flight tonight out of Milan we can still catch. I don’t see why we shouldn’t head out now.”
“Sure. Works for me,” Lance said, getting up. “I just need to pack. I’ll be back in five.”
“My stuff is already in the car,” Georgio said, then addressed the group. “It was wonderful meeting all of you, and I hope you enjoy the pasta maker. Don’t forget to tell all your friends.”
“Oh, don’t leave, Georgio,” Rosa said, taunting the inventor. “It was just getting good. I was so hoping you’d regale us with your tales from around the globe dealing with the indigent indigenous.”
“Try saying that three times fast,” Josie whispered to Chef Claire.
“Yeah, it was a good shot,” Chef Claire whispered back.
“But before I go,” Georgio said, reaching for his phone. “I’d like to get a group picture.”
“Why?” Rosa said.
“For the memory,” he said with a shrug. “Despite the rather unpleasant nature of tonight’s conversation, I’ve had a wonderful time this week.” He glanced around the room and pointed. “Let’s do it in front of the fireplace.”
Everyone looked at each other, shrugged, then assembled in front of the mantel. Georgio glanced around, phone in hand, and began gesturing.
“Let’s have our hosts front and center,” he said. “Marco and Rosa. If you’d be kind enough to kneel down right there. Perfect. And let’s have everyone huddle around them and lean in close. Closer.”
“This is weird,” Josie said.
“I hate posing for pictures,” Chef Claire said.
Seconds later, she visibly flinched.
“Don’t do that,” Josie snapped. “You’re worse than Suzy.”
“Please hold steady, Chef Claire,” Georgio said.
“Hang on a sec,” Chef Claire said, giving Josie a wide-eyed stare. “I’ve got a foot cramp.”
“Are you okay?” Betty said, from her position to the right of Josie.
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” Chef Claire said, squeezing Josie’s arm hard.
“Ow. What the heck is the matter with you?”
“I just told you,” Chef Claire whispered. “I hate posing for pictures.”
“Since when?”
“Since we got here.”
“Here? You started to hate getting your picture taken when you got here?” Josie said, baffled.
“Not taken. Posing,” Chef Claire said through clenched teeth.
Josie frowned. Then her eyes went wide.
“Holy crap,” Josie said, then looked at Georgio. “What’s your hurry, Georgio? Shouldn’t we wait until Lance gets back?”
“It won’t be necessary,” Georgio said, examining his phone. “I’ll be seeing lots of Lance.” He took another look at the group and shook his head. “Chef Claire, I need you to move in even closer.”
“You got it, Georgio,” Chef Claire said, reaching behind her back.
“What are you doing?” Josie whispered.
“Just follow my lead.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Josie said.
“Like stand here and get my picture taken?”
“Fair point.”
Georgio knelt down in front of them about five feet away and raised the phone to his eyes. He was about to take the picture when the fireplace poker hit him hard on the elbow. The phone flew across the floor, and Georgio dropped face down on the floor screaming in agony.
“Nice shot,” Josie said, watching as Chef Claire stood directly over the writhing Georgio.
“Thanks,” Chef Claire said.
“What the heck did you do that for?” Marco said, leaning down to check on the condition of Georgio.
“You’ll see,” Chef Claire said, still holding the poker. She quickly glanced around at everyone. “Don’t touch that phone.”
“The phone,” Betty whispered. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely the phone,” Chef Claire said.
“What is going on, Donato?” Maria Peccati said in halting English.
“Non ne ho idea,” her husband responded in Italian.
Georgio rolled over onto his back grasping his arm. He glared up Chef Claire who continued to stand directly over him brandishing the poker.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he said, starting to push himself upright with his good arm.
“You want another one?” Chef Claire said, raising the poker.
“No, I think I’ll pass,” he said, sitting down. “Marco, hand me my phone. I need to call my lawyer.”
“Don’t touch the phone,” Betty said, reaching behind her back and removing a pair of handcuffs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Georgio said, staring at her in disbelief.
“Arresting you,” Betty said, handcuffing him. “I’m gonna cut you a break and leave your hands cuffed in front of you. I don’t think I’ll be able to bend your arm behind your back.”
“Betty?” Marco said softly. “What are you doing?”
“I just told you, Marco,” she said, flashing her badge at him. “I’m arresting him. FBI.”
“FBI?” Maria Peccati said, staring in disbelief at her husband who could only shrug back with a wide-eyed stare.
“You’re with the FBI?” Rosa said.
“I am,” Betty said, staring down at Georgio. “Y
ou were so close. I can’t believe I never made the connection.” She turned to Chef Claire. “When did you figure it out?”
“When he was getting ready to take the picture,” Chef Claire said. “I was telling Josie how much I hated posing for pictures and it just came to me.”
“What came to you?” Marco said.
“How Bronwyn and Emerson died,” Chef Claire said.
“I think I’d like to hear this,” Rosa said, sitting down on the couch.
“Me too,” Marco said, taking a seat next to her.
“Whatever toxin that killed both of them is stored inside Georgio’s phone,” Chef Claire said. “And the protective case, another of Georgio’s latest inventions, does a lot more than keep the phone from being damaged.”
“It does?” Marco said, glancing down at the phone.
“It also functions as a storage and distribution system for the toxin,” Chef Claire said. “It must have some sort of sprayer. You know, like an aerosol can.”
“Preposterous,” Georgio said with a snort. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a phone.”
“Then I take it you wouldn’t mind if I tested it out on you?” Betty said, smiling at him.
“Never mind,” Georgio said, then stared down at the floor. “Forget I even mentioned it.”
“So, if he had taken the photo, there’s a chance we would have all been killed?” Rosa said.
“I’m gonna go with a hundred percent,” Chef Claire said.
“You scumbag,” Marco said, glaring at Georgio who continued to massage his arm.
“You’re the one who couldn’t get her to shut up,” Georgio said, glaring at Rosa. “And I offer you an extra two million, and she laughs in my face?”
“We don’t need your money,” Rosa said.
“Hah,” Georgio said. “Without my money, you’re gonna need a miracle.”
“Enough,” Marco said, then frowned. “You’re saying he killed Bronwyn and Emerson?”
“I’m almost positive he killed Emerson,” Betty said. “But he didn’t kill Bronwyn.”
“Then who did?” Marco said.
“She did it to herself,” Chef Claire said.
“Suicide?” Rosa said, stunned.
“No, it was an accident,” Chef Claire said. “Remember when she was talking at dinner that night about how her marriage was on the rocks?”
“I do,” Marco said. “And she also said she and Georgio were thinking about getting back together. But how does it fit in with her death?”