Authors: LYNN BOHART
“I think I’ll buy her a dog,” he announced.
Rocky looked up with grease dribbling down his chin.
“Who?
Angie?
Is that the new Millennium way of saying you’re sorry?”
“No.
She wants a dog.”
“You’re not suggesting the dog will take the place of the baby, are you?”
“Don’t be silly.
Angie wants a dog.
Ever since we had to put Butch to sleep.”
Giorgio reached for his own slice of the cheese pie.
“Butch was
your
dog.”
“She loved him just as much as I did.”
“She hated that dog.”
Rocky swallowed a large bite and then wiped his chin. “He shit on the carpet and pissed on the stairs.
Why would she want another dog?”
“Angie wants a dog, I’m telling you.
She misses Butch.
She said so.
And he only made a couple of messes.
It’s not like he used the house as a kennel.”
His brother arched his eyebrows, but Giorgio ignored the implied reproach.
“Maybe I’ll go to the pound this afternoon and see what I can find.”
“And you think that’ll do it?”
“What?”
“Patch it up?” Rocky swallowed again.
Giorgio thought for a moment, toying with the pizza he hadn’t tried yet.
“I don’t know.
I still don’t know how I feel about having another baby.
I just know I want to make it right with Angie.
I can’t stand fighting with her.
She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“You got that right!” Rocky chided, taking a drink.
“But a dog!”
“You’ll see.
It’ll be great.
After Butch died, the
whole family
wanted
another dog. But I
said no
.
Angie says that I only think about me.
Well, this time, it’s just for her.
She’ll see.
Not all men are insensitive.”
With that, he finally leaned into his pizza and took a huge bite.
“You’re an idiot, you know that?”
Chapter Fifteen
Food for Thought was located in the middle of a strip
mall between a shoe repair shop and a UPS store.
The name on the front window was embellished with an image of Rodin’s
“The Thinker
”
.
A bell jingled when Giorgio opened the door
and a
pleasant
-
looking young black woman
looked up from behind the
counter
.
“I’m Mary,” she said cheerfully.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m Detective Salvatori.”
He produced the badge. “I’m investigating the murder at the monastery last night.”
The cheery face fell.
“How can I help you?”
“We have to get statements from anyone who was there.
I’m afraid I’ll have to talk with each one of your employees who was with you last night.”
“We talked with the police last night.”
“Yes, but I’d like to hear what you have to say for myself.”
She sighed.
“We have another party this afternoon and one tonight.
We’re very busy.
Can’t it wait?”
“I don’t think so.
Maybe I could start with you.
It’ll just take a few minutes.”
She looked through an open door to the kitchen beyond.
Two people busied themselves packing boxes. “Okay,” she said, coming around the counter to sit at the small table.
“But it’ll have to be fast.”
Giorgio sat across from her and took out his pad and pencil.
“You’re the caterer of choice at the monastery?”
“That’s right.
We do all of their gigs.
Have for over two years.”
“What time did you arrive there last night?”
The brown eyes seemed to turn inwards as she
thought back to the day before.
“We do most of the cooking here and only use their ovens for warming
, so
I guess we got there around five-fifteen.”
“Did you go straight into the kitchen?”
“Where else would we go?”
He ignored the rhetorical question.
“The kitchen was open?”
“The monks use another kitchen at the other end of the building so that we don’t run into each other.”
“Was there anything unusual about the facility when you arrived?”
“No.
We would have noticed.”
She paused.
“Of course
we don’t use the supply closet.”
“Why is that?”
“We don’t store anything on the premises.
The ja
nitor does the heavy cleaning.”
“So you’ve never been back there?”
“I
’ve been in there a couple of times to grab
paper towels.”
“Have you ever seen anyone else go in or out of that supply closet?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“We’re very busy and can’t even see the supply closet.
We go from boxes, to the counter tops, to the banquet room.”
“Does anyone ever use the restroom down that hall?”
“Sometime, but I can’t say if anyone did last night.”
“Could someone come in that back door without you knowing it?”
“I’m sure they could.
We’re just not paying attention.”
“Did any of your staff leave for any reason last night that you’re aware of?”
She rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead, setting loose a few curls.
“I told you.
We’re busy during that time.
I don’t pay much attention.”
“Wouldn’t you know if someone wasn’t there to do their part?”
“Look, catering is a little bit like a perf
orman
ce.
If someone wasn’t there, someone else would have to step in.
So, yes, I’d know.”
“Who did you have with you last night?”
“I brought two other caterers.”
She leaned around to point into the back. “The same two here now.
I also took Colin and Peter to serve, but they won’t come in until one o’clock.”
“So, there were actually five of you?”
She thought for a moment.
“Yes.
Plus two bartenders.”
“Have they all been with you a long time?”
She rubbed her forehead again.
“Nancy and Austin have been with me since I started.
Peter just started working part
-t
ime.
Colin came on about four months ago.
I contract for the bartenders.
I’m sorry, Detective.
It was a pretty standard night for us.”
He stood up, extending a card.
“Thank you.
Call me if you think of anything else.”
“I’ll send in Austin first,” she said, standing.
“N
ancy has to finish the crepes.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and leaned over to speak into a man’s ear.
The man named Austin glanced in Giorgio’s direction, finally coming out to the front.
He was about the same height as Giorgio but had a slight build with a long nose and tortoise shell glasses
.
Giorgio asked him many of the same questions, eliciting the same answers.
It se
emed the caterers were single-
focused in their tasks and took little notice of anything else.
Austin did add one important piece of information.
John Marsh came through the kitchen saying he was going to use the bathroom.
Austin couldn’t remember the time or seeing him return.
Nancy appeared shortly after Austin.
She was about thirty-five with a mole in the middle of her left cheek.
She fluttered behind the desk
,
and Giorgio attempted to calm her by making her sit down.
It only seemed to restrain her nervous energy until eventually she
exploded into strange giggles.
Nancy didn’t remember seeing Marsh, nor did she remember seeing anyone else.
She only remembered serving the quail late so that it was nearly cold.
“Peter and Colin do all the serving?”
“That’s right.
We prepare.
They serve.
Colin likes to have his cigarette, so he was hustling.
They picked up around eight and we had the mousse on by eight-fifteen.
We were ready to leave right around nine o’clock.”
“You work fast.”
“We all know what to do,” she said, beginning to calm down.
“Mary and Austin and I have been together a long time.
We have things down to a routine.
We’re almost packed by the time the dessert is served.
Austin and Colin stay behind to clean tables.”
“You mentioned that Colin likes his cigarettes.
Did he go out to have one last night?”
“Yes, I think so.
I think I remember him saying he’d be right back.”
She looked up, realizing she may have implicated a co-worker. “But Colin couldn’t have done anything.
I mean, why would he?”
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Giorgio lied.
“But he may have seen something that could be useful.
I’ll need both Peter and Colin’s phone numbers and addresses.”
She stood and backed up from the chair, nearly knocking it over.
“I’ll get Mary.
Oh, I didn’t mean to get Colin in trouble
.”
A moment later, Mary returned and gave him the required phone numbers.
Giorgio left the shop thinking he hadn’t learned much except that Marsh had indeed left the head table at some point
,
and Colin Jewett had gone out for a cigarette.
Both men would now be added to the growing list of people who had opportunity to commit the murder.
The question was, did either one have motive?
Chapter Sixteen