A Dish Best Served Cold: An Italian Kitchen Mystery (Italian Kitchen Mystery, An) (4 page)

He turned, arms crossed in his familiar Tough Cop stance. “Nothing
you
need to worry about.” He turned abruptly and strode out the door without looking back.

“Okay, I think I hate all the men in my life tonight,” I said under my breath.

“But not your dear old dad, right, baby?”

“Where’d you come from? And you are exempted from my list, yes. And maybe Father Tom,” I added.

I linked my arm through his and tightened my hold as Florence came toward us. “Hey, boss,” she said with a wink. “You got that generator good to go in case the lights go out?” She dropped her voice on the last three words in a pitiful attempt at flirtation, which thankfully was lost on my father.

“It’s out back,” he said. “And I got plenty of extension cords.”

“You think of everything, Frank,” Florence said as she sashayed away, her skinny hips swinging. I shook my head at such desperation, until the voice of my conscience issued a reminder:
That could be you in ten years
.
Show a little mercy.

“So it worked out okay tonight, Dad.”

“Told you it would, honey. That rain’s letting up and I think the eye is about to pass over and everybody will get home safe.” You had to love my father’s optimism. “Yup,” he added, “I’m betting we won’t even need that generator.”

A bright flash illuminated our faces, followed by a crack of thunder that shook me to my toes. And then everything went black.

T
he gasps and shrieks that came from our guests as the lights went out had a fun-house quality, the kind that says,
I’m scared, but it’s kinda fun
. One by one, phones glowed as people fumbled for their possessions and chattered excitedly before making a dash for the door. Only one voice could be heard above the din.

“Please, everyone,” Mayor McCrae called out, clapping her hands for attention. “Let’s do this in an orderly way to get everyone out safely. If you have a phone, please use that to find your way to the main doors of the restaurant. If not, I’m sure the Rienzis won’t mind if you use the candles from the table.”

A guttural grumble from somewhere behind me said that Nonna would, in fact, mind very much. As my eyes got accustomed to the darkness, I saw my dad materialize at the mayor’s side.

“For those who would like to stay out of the rain a bit longer,” he said, “I’m about to get my generator going, and we should have lights soon. But whether you stay or go, I’d like to thank you all, on behalf of my family and me, for helping us celebrate our seventy years in business here in Oceanside Park.
Buon notte
, and come back to the Casa Lido soon.”

There was a smattering of applause.
Way to take the floor back, Dad. Bravo
. Grabbing a votive from a nearby table, I joined my mom at the door to help usher people out. Holding candles and phones, they made a weird procession as they walked out into the darkness. Tim and Nando stood in the parking lot with flashlights and helped to direct traffic out. Once the lot had emptied, I stood outside with an umbrella, staring at the dark and deserted boardwalk. On impulse, I crossed the street and scurried up the ramp, holding my candle out in front of me. Standing in the center of the boardwalk, I looked down toward the rides pier, but without the lights of the Ferris wheel and the carousel house, it was only a shapeless gray mass in the darkness. On the other side of me, the ocean was roiling, the waves frothing and breaking high on the beach. When a gust of wind nearly took my umbrella from my hands, I came to my senses and turned to go, colliding with a man holding a flashlight. It was Cal, with more thunder in his face than the storm.

“What the hell are you doin’ out here?” he rasped, gripping my wrist and half dragging me down the ramp. “What is wrong with you?”

“Cal, take it easy! I just wanted to see how far down the power was out. You can let go of me now, okay?”

“Not till I get you back inside. You think this storm is over? It ain’t over yet. Once that eye passes, that wind’s gonna kick up again, and worse than before. What were you thinking?”

We crossed the deserted street; still in Cal’s death grip, I struggled to hold the umbrella and the candle. My mother and Sofia, both looking worried, greeted us at the door.

“Victoria, what were you doing outside?” my mom said. “You know better than that, young lady.”

Great. Now I’m twelve
. “What is everybody making such a big deal about?” I exploded. “I just wanted to see how much of the boardwalk was out. I wasn’t out there for more than a couple of minutes, and I didn’t go anywhere near the beach. Sheesh.”

“It’s just so out of character for you, Vic,” Sofia said dryly. She raised an eyebrow. “Doing anything risky, I mean.”

“Ha-ha, Sofe. And thanks for that.”

“Listen,” Cal said. “I’m gonna head back to see if your dad needs some help with that generator, and then I’ll take you both home, okay?” He sounded calmer, and even grinned at Sofia. “That work for you, Miss Firecracker?” he asked, using his pet name for her.

“You bet,” she said. “But I think Vic’s on cleanup detail for a little while.”

“I am,” I said. “But it will be a challenge in the dark.”

My mother put an arm around her daughter-in-law. “Well, Sofia is going to sit and have a nice cup of tea while you finish up, hon.” I exchanged a look with my sister-in-law and we both grinned. When she and Danny had been having trouble, she and my mom were not the best of friends. But a baby on the way had changed everything.

While Sofia basked in the attentions of my mother and grandmother, the girls and I worked cleanup using flashlights and candles. I had an armful of dirty linens when the lights suddenly blazed on, and we all gave a cheer. Once we finished, the waitstaff, Chef Massi, and Nando all left, among my mother’s repeated admonitions to be careful. Tim and Lacey were the last to leave, arms clutched around each other’s waists. I was relieved to see them go.

Besides my family, the only guests who had stayed were Cal and Father Tom. We all sat at the family table sipping coffee and anisette while the storm howled outside.

“I hope everyone gets home safely,” my mom said.

“They will, baby,” my dad said. “Anyway, the storm’s been downgraded again.”

“That don’t matter,” Cal muttered. “Ya can’t assume it’s not dangerous.”

“Listen to Calvino,” Nonna said, patting Cal’s hand. “He has been through this.”

I opened my mouth to speak and snapped it shut again. But here was what I wanted to say:
You were the one who insisted we hold a party in a hurricane, and now you’re calling for caution?

I caught Father Tom’s eye, and I could swear he winked at me. But his expression grew serious when he spoke. “I will continue to pray for everyone’s safety.”

Before he was done speaking, the door burst open and my brother stepped inside, his black slicker dripping with rain. He pushed back his hood, and his expression said it all. “It might be too late for that, Father,” Danny said. He looked at my grandmother with a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry to have to tell you guys this, but there’s already been a casualty of the storm. They found Pete Petrocelli’s body down in the carousel house.”

“O
h no!” my mother gasped, and put a hand over her mouth.

“What a shame,” my dad said, and followed Father Tom’s lead, as both men dropped their heads in prayer. For a moment, there was silence at the table. In our worries about the party, the loss of power, and the safety of our guests, we’d forgotten about poor Pete, a drunken, elderly man who’d been out alone in a storm. I stared down at my coffee cup, a little ashamed. But it wasn’t long before my curiosity began its gentle tugging on my brain.

“Dan, what do they think happened?” I asked. “Did he fall and hurt himself?”

“We won’t know for a while. But the carousel house was flooded, and he was facedown in the water. It’s possible he drowned.”

Father Tom looked over at me. “That’s why I came to see your brother. I saw Pete up on the boardwalk earlier tonight. He was stumbling, very unsteady. It looked like he was carrying something, but I couldn’t tell what.”

The dinner my grandmother had given him, or something else? Like a wine bottle maybe? Sofia shot me a questioning glance that I pretended not to see.

I looked back at my brother, who ran a hand down over his face. Our eyes met, and I saw the guilt in his. “I didn’t go out after him,” he said. “When I called in, I told the dispatcher, but we had other stuff on our plate tonight. Lightning hit one of the transformers. That’s why part of the town is out.”

“Oh,” I said, “that must have been that big flash right before the lights went out. I wonder if Pete was already out there.”

My mother shook her head. “The poor soul, out there all alone.
Dying
alone.” She shuddered, and my dad put an arm around her and kissed her temple.

I glanced at my grandmother, who’d been silent the whole time. Without thinking, I reached across the table and squeezed her hand, which she acknowledged with a brief nod.

Danny took Sofia’s hand and helped her to her feet. “We gotta go, hon. I’ve only got a little time and I want to get you home.” He took off his slicker and wrapped it around Sofia’s shoulders. “I don’t want you to worry,” he said to her. “We’ve still got power, the windows are covered, and both sump pumps are going.”

She wound an arm around his neck and kissed him. “I’ll be fine till you get home.”

Cal stood up, too. “Victoria, I think we better get you outta here, too.”

After some hasty good-nights (and lots of
yes, Mom, we’ll be careful
s) the four of us headed out the back way, my brother stopping us in the kitchen.

“Listen, Vic, there are reports of flooding on some of the beach blocks. I don’t think you should stay at the cottage tonight, but I didn’t want to say anything in front of Ma.”

My cottage—strictly speaking, Sofia’s cottage, because I was renting it from her—was the last house on a beach block. “This is why I love you, brother. You knew she’d be hustling me off to stay with her and Daddy tonight.”

“You could always come back to our house,” Sofia said, and then broke into a grin. “Unless you’d like to check on your basement for me. It always gets water in a hard rain.”

It always gets water in a hard rain.
I strained to keep my voice normal. “Thanks, but I’d rather be home.”

“If you’re sure,” my brother said, but his eyes were on Cal.

“I’ll make sure she’s taken care of, Dan,” Cal said, reaching for the back door handle. “Okay, it’s now or never, folks.” He heaved the door open and the wind took it from him, banging it against the restaurant’s outer wall. Together we got it shut, and I heard the lock click into place.

“G’night!” Danny yelled, practically carrying Sofia to his car. “Be careful!”

Cal grabbed my hand and we sprinted for his truck. “Can we hurry, please?” I called over the wind. At that, Cal gripped my waist and lifted me from the ground with one arm. With his free hand, he opened the passenger door of his truck and shoved me inside.

He slid behind the wheel and shook out his wet hair. “Where’s the fire,
cher
?” he asked, a little breathless from heaving my hundred and thirty pounds into his truck.

“No fire,” I said, “but maybe a flood. And I left my computer in the basement.”

*   *   *

As Cal drove me down Ocean Avenue, he gripped the wheel, his face grim as he navigated the dark street. “Victoria,” he said, “do you know what an
eyewall
is?”

“Should I?”

He shook his head with impatience. “In the eyewall are the highest winds that come after the eye passes over. We’re in ’em now. This is also when you’re likely to get ocean surges. You realize this is maybe the worst time you could pick for rescuin’ your computer, right?”

I dropped my head. “I know. And I’m grateful to you for taking me. And for not lecturing me about backing up my work.”

“I don’t have to tell you to back up your work, do I? Storm did that for ya. But why’d you leave it in the basement?”

“I was working down there. It gets really hot in my bedroom sometimes.”
And not in a good way,
I thought, glancing at Cal’s profile. Would that change any time soon? And did I want it to?

To his credit, Cal kept a straight face. But dodging tree branches and flying debris in a hurricane did not exactly inspire flirtatious banter. Cal’s mood was serious, almost businesslike. And behind that was something else, a fine thread of fear, whether for himself or for me, I couldn’t tell. But this storm had him spooked.

As we rounded my corner, the flicker of flashlights and candles was visible in my neighbors’ windows. But the houses were shut tight; a few were completely dark with no cars in their driveways. “Looks like some people evacuated,” I said.

“They’re smart. C’mon,” he said. “You got your key ready? We’re gonna run for it the minute I open the door of this truck. You keep your head down and listen to me, hear? There’s already been one fatality tonight.”

“That’s reassuring.” The thought of Pete dying alone in that carousel house made me shiver. Had he gone there for shelter? Had he gotten there before or after the power went out? How frightened he must have been on his own out there. But was he on his own? We’d all assumed he was but that didn’t mean—

Cal’s voice jolted me from my thoughts. “Victoria, if you’re waitin’ for the weather to improve to leave this truck, you’re gonna be sitting here all night.”

“Oh, sorry. My mind was wandering.” I put my hand on the door handle. “Ready when you are.”

The truck doors burst open and we spilled out into the rain. Clutching my keys in chilled fingers, I hurried across the small lawn to my porch with Cal right behind me. Inside, I felt along the wall for the light switch in my living room. “No power.”

“Well, we figured as much. Are all your windows shut tight?” he asked, leading the way with a flashlight he’d taken from the truck.

“I’m pretty sure I closed everything up before I left for the restaurant.” But a quick check of the first-floor rooms revealed an open kitchen window with a nice puddle forming on the floor. “I don’t mind dealing with rainwater,” I said as I mopped it up. “But seawater is something else again. When you live at the shore, salt is
not
your friend.”

“Heck no. Salt’s corrosive. And it gets into everything: electrical wires, pipes, even concrete. Salt sits in concrete long enough, it breaks it right down.”

“Wow—really? You’re a font of storm information, you know that? But I guess that comes from experience.”

But getting Cal to talk about that experience was apparently fruitless, as his only response was to ask where the basement door was. And the minute we opened it, we heard the trickling sound. And when Cal shone the light downward, I could see the glimmer of water.

“Crap.”

“Crap, indeed,” Cal said. “Ya got maybe two inches down here.” He knelt, sweeping the light along the concrete floor. “But I think this is coming up through the foundation. The ground’s soaked from the rain and it’s seeping up this way.”

“That’s good, right?” I asked, looking over his shoulder at the growing puddle.

He stood up with a grunt. “Well, it’s good in that you got no ocean water in here. But Sofia’s gonna have to do something about a drainage system.” He handed me the flashlight. “Time to get what we came for, Victoria. Then I’m gettin’ you out of here.”

I gathered my computer, cord, and some notes from my writing table. “Listen, Cal,” I said as we walked back up the stairs. “I can probably stay here tonight.”

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “For one thing, you got no power. Yours is the first house between the ocean and the street. I think those dunes will hold, but why take a chance? You saw how far up the beach those waves were breakin’. Not only that, but your windows aren’t covered; it’s not safe, Victoria—plain and simple.”

While I wasn’t worried about some water in my basement, the thought of shattered windows was enough to give me pause. I let out a breath. “I really don’t want to go back to my parents’ house.”

“You don’t have to,” he said. “You can come home with me.”

“Uhhh . . . thank you, but I don’t think . . .”

“I meant as my guest,
cher
.” He smiled and kissed the top of my forehead. “As in, you’ll take the guest room.”

“Oh. Okay.”
Hmm, a little disappointed, are we, Vic?
“Sure. Just let me go pack a bag.”

Up in my bedroom, I threw some things in an overnight bag, changed from my dress to a T-shirt and jeans, and traded my wet leather flats for flip-flops. Looked around the room and figured the water would never get this high in a category-1 storm. On the way out, I glanced at my poster of Bruce Springsteen. “Well, Boss,” I said, “wish me luck.”

But for what? No hurricane damage? Or for the prospect of spending the night at Cal’s?

*   *   *

Cal was right about the weather on the other side of the eye. The wind shrieked in my ears, and I got soaked just darting from my front door to his truck. Nervous at the thought of shaking tree branches, I struggled with the heavy door of the truck. Cal shoved me inside and closed the door behind me.

He shook his wet hair as he slid into the driver’s seat. “‘Baby, it’s bad out there,’” he sang in a low, soft tenor, and my head jerked up at the sound. The man could carry a tune. He stopped when he caught me frowning.

“What? Don’t you like that song?”

“No, it’s not that. You can
sing
. That gives me one more thing to add to my meager collection of facts about you.”

He trained his eyes on the dark street ahead. “Ain’t that mysterious,
cher
.”

Oh yes, you are.
“What’s that?” I pointed to a grocery bag on the seat between us.

“Stuff from your fridge and freezer that might spoil. Though how you make a meal from designer ice cream and margarita mix is beyond me.”

“Those are two all-important food groups. Hope you got the container of frozen marinara sauce—it’s my one claim to fame.”

He grinned. “I got it. I’ll take it as payment for my hospitality.”

“It’s yours. Seriously, though, you thought of everything tonight.”

“Right. Learned it the hard way from a sassy gal named Katrina. Right before she run me out of town.” But he didn’t elaborate.

I noticed lights emerging along the highway in places where the power was still on. “Hey, we’re heading west,” I said. “I thought you told me you lived in Seaside?”

“Nope. Moved from that place. I’m in Riverton now, ’bout ten miles inland, which is safer than staying at your place or at your parents.”

A half hour later, we pulled into a new-looking apartment complex. Though the wind had died down a bit, it was still raining, and we made one last sprint to his front door.

“It ain’t much,” he said as he opened it, “but it’s home.”

But there was very little about the spotlessly clean and spartan apartment that said
home
. The living room held a couch, a table, and a standing lamp of good quality but nondescript style. Maybe the guy was a minimalist, but there wasn’t a photograph or a framed print on the walls, and none of the small, personal details that tell the story of a person’s life. Every room appeared to be painted white, and the same beige carpet ran throughout the apartment.
In some way,
I thought,
Cal is hiding himself in all this bareness.

“So, how about a drink to warm them bones?” Cal took off his wet jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, and my eyes strayed to his tanned forearms.

“I wouldn’t say no.” Still holding my bag, I followed him to the kitchen, where he motioned me to sit. I plopped down on one of the kitchen chairs with a groan. “What time is it, anyway?”

“It’s after midnight.” He set down a tumbler in front of me partially filled with a clear brown liquid.

“Isn’t that an Eric Clapton song?” I sniffed the glass and took an experimental sip. Almonds. He’d wisely poured me amaretto instead of whiskey—one taste of whiskey and I’d be under his kitchen table.

He swirled his drink, an amused look on his face. “What do you know about Eric Clapton?”

“Please,” I said, waving my hand at such ignorance. “I listened to ‘Layla’ at my mother’s knee.”

He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Wouldn’ta pegged your mom for a Clapton fan.”

“Ah, she’s full of surprises.”

“She don’t like me much.” He took a sip of his drink, his face thoughtful.

“That’s not so. You’re a very likable guy.”

“Maybe.” He looked down and swirled the whiskey in his glass. “But I’m not Tim.”

“No, you’re not. And for that I am grateful.” I took another sip of the sweet drink. “Now, my nonna, on the other hand, is Team Cal all the way.”

He smiled. “She’s a pistol, that one.”

“She sure is. I just wish she didn’t—ahem,
go off
all the time—around me.”

He laughed and shook his head, and I had the satisfaction of knowing I was involved with a guy who laughed at my jokes.

“S’cuse me a second,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I just wanna check the weather.” He swept his finger across the phone and held it up for me to see. That angry red swirl that had been hovering over the coast was heading out to sea.