A Dish Best Served Cold: An Italian Kitchen Mystery (Italian Kitchen Mystery, An) (18 page)

S
ofia and I sat at our favorite table at Louie’s on the boardwalk, out on the upper deck facing the ocean. I looked at my sister-in-law’s plate, where she had carefully piled the onions from her sandwich.

“Since when don’t you like onions?” I asked.

“Since I got pregnant. I should clarify—I like them but they no longer like me.” She turned her plate in my direction. “Want them?”

“Sure.” I heaped more of the sweetened, caramelized onion on my sandwich. “It’s not like I have a date or anything.” I grinned. “I can just breathe all over you instead.”

“Thanks. So—wanna hear what I found out about Leo Barone’s cronies?”

“Mmmph,” I said through a mouthful of grilled sausage and sweet red pepper.

“I’ll take that as a
yes
.” Sofia carefully cut into her sandwich, putting one small bite at a time in her mouth. “Okay, so the two guys in Barone’s inner circle were Louis Bellafante and Gerry Domenica. Bellafante was a dead end, but there’s a Gerald Domenica Jr. living in Somers Point.”

“Wait,” I said. “Somers Point is right near—”

“Atlantic City,” she said. “Within ten miles or so. I looked it up.”

“I wonder if it’s possible that he’s related somehow.”

Sofia nodded. “It definitely is. According to PeopleSearch, he’s around eighty. The age is right for him to be Domenica’s son.
And
he’s listed with a
junior
after his name. I think he’s our guy, Vic.”

“What do we do? Just show up in Somers Point and track him down?”

“Why not? We’ve done it before.”

“It’s not that. When do we get there? The Casa Lido reopens tomorrow. I’ll be tied up all day.” I took another bite of sandwich and wiped my dripping chin.

Sofia tapped her nails on the tabletop. “Let’s think about it for a minute.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, I totally got this. You know what a germophobe Tim is—what if you get ‘sick’ while you’re prepping? One good sneeze and he’ll kick your butt out the door.”

“I don’t know, Sofe. I would feel guilty faking sick when they need every hand there tomorrow. No, I’ll appeal to my mom with the truth. And I’ll offer to come back for dinner service.”

“You’re too conscientious,” she said, dismissing me with a wave. “They work you to death there anyway.” She leaned across the table, her eyes bright. “Don’t even try to tell me you’re not curious. This might be the one way to find out the truth about Zio Roberto.”

“Okay, you got me. Can you get away from the studio by two?”

She nodded and pointed to my empty plate. “I take it you’re finished. Because we have to get going.”

After a quick trip to the ladies’ room, Sofia and I headed down the boardwalk to the rides pier. It was dusk, and on the bay side, the sun was setting in a bright array of oranges and blues. I let out a happy sigh. “I love the beach at this time of day, don’t you?”

“Yup,” Sofia said. “And I like it even better after all the tourists are gone.”

“Hey, let’s be happy the boardwalk is crowded.” I looked around at the families, their arms full of stuffed animals and balloons, their kids eating custards and taffy. “It’s good for business and good for the town.”

“Anne McCrae must be in her glory,” Sofia said as we approached the rides pier. It was packed with people; clearly, they weren’t squeamish about the idea of a body being found here. Maybe they were curious. Or maybe the death of a homeless alcoholic a week ago was already old news. At one end of the pier, the Ferris wheel was in motion, its colorful lights twinkling with each turn. My stomach lurched as I looked up at the giant wheel, remembering a recent ride on it with Cal. The dome of the carousel house, decorated with strings of white lights, rose into view. As we got closer I admired the green patina of the oxidized copper and the building’s fanciful circular windows.

“I assume Her Honor will be here tonight, right?” I asked.

“Are you kidding me? Even though she wanted to sell off the carousel, she’d never miss a photo op. I bet you anything she tries to take credit for saving it, too.”

“Probably,” I said as we made our way through the crowd. “This is some turnout, huh? I hope we can get inside.”

“We will,” she said, “but first we have to get past that guy.”

I followed her gaze to the open door of the carousel house, where a familiar figure in a blue uniform stood guard. My heart sank. “I thought you said Danny had to work tonight.”

“Exactly. He’s working. Wonder how we’re gonna play this one off.”

“Geez,” I grumbled. “You’d think the Oceanside PD would have a better use for a skilled detective than assigning him to a ribbon-cutting ceremony. I wonder if there’s a back way into this place.”

“Too late, Vic,” she said out of the side of her mouth. “He’s seen us.” She broke into a blinding smile and lifted her arm in a wave. “Hey, babe,” she called. “Fancy meeting you here.”

My brother’s face was expressionless, though his eyes brightened at the sight of his wife. “Hi, honey,” he said in an overly sweet tone. “I don’t believe you mentioned you were coming to the festivities this evening.”

She linked her arm through his, still smiling up at him. “It was kind of a last-minute thing. Vic wanted some company.”

He turned to me and I shrugged. “C’mon, Dan. Did you think we’d really stay away?”

He shook his head without a word, but merely ushered us inside, with me trailing Sofia.

“Hurry up, would you?” she asked.

“Sorry. I’m busy extricating myself from the wheels of the bus under which you just threw me. Nice one, Sofe.”

“He won’t bother us. And anyway, aren’t you glad he’s here? Just in case the suspects start showing up.” She lifted her chin in the direction of the old pinball machines along the circular periphery of the building. “Speaking of which.”

“What do you know—Florence and Jason. I guess he hasn’t left for school yet. Wonder why he’s sticking around.”

Just then Sofia gripped my arm. “Look,” she whispered. “Behind the carousel.”

And there, arms crossed in a watchful pose, was a formidable figure with a closely shaved head and intense eyes—The Guy with the Animal Tattoos.

“What the heck is he doing here?” I hissed.

“He’s kinda creepy up close,” Sofia said. “What does little Alyssa see in him, I wonder.”

“Some girls just love those bad boys. Hopefully, she’ll meet some nice college boy to spend her time with at school.” I peered around the crowd to get a better look at him. “What do you think he’s doing behind the merry-go-round?”

“I don’t know,” Sofia said. “Lurking?”

“Clearly—but for what reason?”

Just then a low murmur went through the crowd and it parted behind us. “Excuse us, please,” said a familiar baritone voice, and I exchanged a look with Sofia.

“Barone,” she whispered. “With Iris right behind him and Mayor McCrae pulling up the rear.”

“Make sure you duck when Iris starts throwing daggers my way,” I said.

“She looks great, though,” Sofia noted. “At least she’ll kill you in style.”

“Funny. Hey, they’re starting.”

Richard Barone stood at the carousel’s entrance gate, now tied with a bright red ribbon. To his left was Iris, to his right Anne McCrae, who was holding the biggest pair of shears I’d ever seen. She stepped forward to speak.

“First, let me say how wonderful it is to see the boardwalk humming with so many of you this evening. Now that the power is back on—” Here Anne was interrupted by cheers and whistles from the crowd and she smiled broadly. “The rides pier is officially open for business!”

At those words, the lights of the carousel blazed on, and the crowd applauded wildly. Anne signaled for them to quiet, but she was clearly enjoying the crowd’s enthusiastic response. “Right now,” she said, “it’s my pleasure to welcome Mr. Richard Barone, a longtime summer resident of Oceanside Park and well-known philanthropist. It is our good luck that Richard has extended his spirit of giving to save our historical carousel, with its hand-carved animals and beautiful nineteenth-century design.”

“Like she cares,” Sofia muttered. “She’s only interested in the bucks.”

Someone tittered behind us and I shot Sofia a look, putting my finger across my lips.

“Mr. Barone has also generously offered to maintain the carousel each season,” Anne continued, “allowing our town to enjoy its beloved icon for many years to come.” She handed Barone the giant scissors. “Richard, would you do us the honor?”

“It’s my pleasure, Anne,” he said. “You should all know that this beautiful machine behind me was imported from Italy more than one hundred years ago. It is an exceptional example of Venetian craftsmanship.” He pointed toward the top of the carousel. “If you look up as you ride, you will see painted scenes of Venice. The animals are hand-carved and decorated, and inside resides its original Wurlitzer organ. As a side note, you might be interested to know that the word
carousel
originates from a contest of horsemanship called
il carosello
, which is Italian for
little war
.”

Did I imagine that Richard Barone’s eyes rested momentarily on my own? Was that glance a declaration of our own “little war”? Richard flashed his charming white grin and held up the shears. “I hereby open the Oceanside Park Carousel,” he shouted, snipping the red ribbon in half. “Rides will be free this evening, by the way.”

He nodded to the double line of visitors, mostly children, already standing at the gate. And then he turned my way and smiled directly at me. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a famous resident among us this evening, our very own local author, Victoria Rienzi, who writes mysteries under the pen name Vick Reed.”

My cheeks burned and my stomach did a flip-flop. Why was he calling attention to me? Sofia was digging her elbow into my ribs and Iris was glaring a hole in my forehead. Richard held out his hand. “Come up here, Victoria, will you? I think you should take the first ride.”

Sofia elbowed me again. “Get up there!” she whispered. “Don’t make him more suspicious than he already is.”

But my shoes seemed to have filled with lead. My knees were locked in place. “I can’t,” I whispered back. “I have a stomach full of sausage and onions. What if I get sick?”

Her only response was to give me a shove in Barone’s direction. Without a word, he took my hand and led me to the ride platform; his grip tightened as we stepped together onto the ride. “There you go, Victoria,” he said quietly. “Now go pick out a nice horse.”

I walked self-consciously across the wooden platform; avoiding the horses, I sat in one of the chariots along the inside of the ride and pulled the worn leather belt across my lap. Behind the ride stood the tattooed man, his arms crossed as though he was waiting. But for what? As the ride filled with eager kids and more than a few adults, he watched intently.

Richard Barone’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd. “Let ’er go!” he shouted.

At Barone’s signal, the tattooed man heaved a giant wooden lever, looking on impassively as he set the ride in motion and the organ music began its slow, piping sound.
He’s the ride operator,
I thought wildly.
Was he here the night Pete died? Did he let him into the locked carousel house and to his death?
The ride sped up; I gripped the sides of the carved chair as it made its second turn. The lights spun in circles around me, and one by one I could make out the faces of Florence, Jason, Barone, and Iris. Florence, standing protectively in front of her son. Had she provided Pete with enough wine to kill himself? Or had it been Jason, now scowling and restless, wishing he were anywhere but inside this carousel house? Or was it Barone, standing with his arms crossed, keeping his eyes on me with every revolution of the ride? Did he have something to hide that Pete was privy to? And was Iris desperate enough to serve as his accomplice? Or something worse? Round and round their faces circled dizzily across my line of vision; the music reached a crazy pitch while I begged silently in my head,
Please don’t get sick, please don’t get sick, please don’t get sick . . .

Out in the crowd I could see Sofia’s worried face; Danny stood behind her and the relief washed over me like a wave. My brother was here; I would be okay.
As long as I don’t puke all over a nineteenth-century work of art.
As the ride came to a stop, I unlatched the leather strap and sat to catch my breath before I stood up. My legs rubbery, my stomach queasy, I took a hesitant step to the edge of the platform, only to have the ride operator reach out his arm to me. He smiled knowingly, much in the same way Barone had when he’d invited me to ride. I didn’t have a choice; if I didn’t have a hand to steady me, I’d end up facedown on the cement, just like poor Pete. He took my hand gently, his intense eyes looking straight into my own. If he recognized me from the party, he didn’t let on.

“That’s it, miss. You’re fine. Step right there. You got it,” he said kindly. I let go of his hand, and for the first time had a clear look at the animals on his left arm. There were jungle beasts and mythological creatures, framed by bright green vines and red flowers. In the center of the design, just below his elbow, was a prancing yellow lion wearing a crown. Dragging my gaze from the vivid images, I met his eyes. There were a pale golden brown, almost feline in their shape and color.
Like a lion’s eyes,
I thought,
and just as dangerous
.

I muttered a hasty thanks and hurried to Sofia and Danny as fast as my wobbly legs could carry me. Suddenly, I didn’t care if Pete had been murdered—I just knew I had to get out of there.

My brother took my elbow and steered the two of us through the crowd. “C’mon, you two,” he said. “There’s nothing to see here.”

“Do they teach you to say that at cop school?” I asked when we were out in the fresh air again. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell us to move along.”

“And I’m surprised you’re still nosing around a case that’s been closed,” he said sharply. “Vic, I meant it when I said there was nothing to see.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, hon,” Sofia said. “There are still plenty of unanswered questions about Pete’s death.”