The Seven-Course Christmas Killer: A Holiday Novella from the Italian Kitchen (An Italian Kitchen Mystery)

by Rosie Genova

  “No,” I heard her say. “It’s not the right time.”

  “When then?” Kuchinski insisted. “I say it’s tonight.”

  She dropped her head, and he stepped closer, putting his hand on her arm. They talked in muted tones after that, and I watched as Jeannette went into the restaurant first; a few minutes later, Kuchinski followed. I took a few deep breaths to try to slow my racing heart. I hurried back inside through the kitchen, and met Sofia outside my mother’s office.

  “Listen,” I said, still out of breath. “Kuchinski and Powers are up to something. I saw them outside. I couldn’t hear everything, but Jeff said something like it has to be tonight. So what did you find out about them?”

  “Not a lot. I mean, I wasn’t actually looking. I got caught up in some stuff about Nina LaGuardia.”

  “What did you find?”

  “What didn’t I find is more like it,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “For one thing, Anne McCrae might not be the only reason Nina lost her job at the TV station. Get this: she played a prank on a coworker. A bad one. It got the woman fired. And Nina not long after.”

  I frowned. “How do you know this?”

  She shrugged. “It was on video.” She lowered her voice. “Here’s what happened: Nina and another anchor are reporting on some dumb story about a cat that does tricks. Then when they sign off, Nina’s mic is off, but you see her saying something to the coanchor. And you can tell it’s snarky, you know? So the coanchor says—loud and clear because her mic is still hot—‘Tune in tomorrow for another hard-hitting story about a crazy cat lady.’”

  “And that went out over the air?”

  Sofia nodded. “You should have seen that poor anchor’s face. So then the theme music starts, the woman’s looking like she’s about to cry, and Nina can’t keep the smirk off her face.”

  “But that doesn’t really prove anything. We can’t be sure Nina left the mic on.”

  “Maybe not. But it does prove she’s mean enough to enjoy her colleague’s public embarrassment. And maybe mean enough to want to hurt Anne.”

  “Hmm. You’ve got a point.” I sighed. “Now I don’t know what to think. I was so sure it was Kuchinski and Powers together.”

  “For me, Nina’s a fit,” Sofia said.

  “And the last piece—my stolen knife—is hiding under the Christmas tree.” I frowned. “Except, well—if she’s guilty, why is she so hot on finding out the real news story? That would only call attention to herself.”

  “Because she’s a wacko, Vic,” Sofia insisted. “She was at the meeting. She might have played a cruel trick on a coworker. And you found your knife in her bag. What more do you need?”

  “I need—” What? An answer. Some clarity to emerge from the fog inside my brain. “Well,” I said, “strictly speaking, it may not be the knife. I didn’t have a chance to open the box and—”

  At that moment, we both looked up to see Nina LaGuardia charging down on us, her eyes flashing and her expression crazed. “Victoria Rienzi!” she shrieked. “What the hell have you done with my Christmas gift?”

  Chapter Eight

  Grilled Pulpo

  I frowned. “Your Christmas gift? You mean mine, don’t you? The one you took from the podium?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Victoria, but give me that damn box back.”

  “I don’t have it.” I was telling the truth, but I also had a sinking feeling that Nina was as well. If she’d stolen my knife, she’d be doing her best to hide that fact, not call attention to it.

  “What do you mean, you don’t have it? I saw you looking in my bag, and suddenly it’s gone. It’s a very expensive necklace, from . . . an admirer.” She pointed furiously. “You give it back to me right now, or I’ll go out there and make a scene in the dining room. And I’ll follow that up with a tell-all feature about the Casa Lido’s messed-up Christmas Eve dinner!” she shouted.

  “You’re already making a scene,” I hissed. “Will you keep your voice down, please?”

  “She doesn’t have it, Nina,” Sofia said. “But maybe you can tell us where her gift is.”

  “How would I know?” she huffed.

  “It’s in the same kind of box,” I said. “Same size, shape, and color. And it’s missing.”

  “I have not seen your gift,” she said through her teeth. “And I’m getting pretty damn tired of this game you and your sister-in-law are playing here tonight.”

  Frankly, so was I. I glanced at Sofia and she gave me a tiny nod. We had to call Nina’s bluff—if that’s what it was. What was in the box I’d hidden under the Christmas tree? A necklace? Or a knife? There was only one way to find out. “Um, I have a feeling that the box got mixed up with the gifts under the Christmas tree. Why don’t we look there?”

  Nina gripped my forearm. “What I want to know is how it got out of my bag in the first place.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I can’t really answer that question.”

  “You won’t, you mean,” she said over her shoulder as she marched across the dining room. I followed, with Sofia waddling behind me.

  “You think she’s telling the truth?” Sofia whispered.

  I nodded. “Or she’s a very good actress,” I said.

  Nina was already under the tree, flinging gifts left and right, when she spied the box in the corner where I’d dropped it. “Found it!” she called, and scrambled to her feet. When she opened the box, her face relaxed. “I told you,” she said, holding it out in triumph. What was in there was shiny, all right. And expensive. But it wasn’t my knife. So where was it? And who had it?

  • • •

  We were now at the last course, and it was Nonna’s turn to serve. I had to admire her straight back and strong arms as she hefted the large tray from table to table. But her absence also gave me an excuse to confer with Sofia again. This time we met at the bar, where we sipped sparkling water and kept our eyes peeled for my grandmother; we had to be back at the table before she got there.

  “So what do you think, Sofe?” I asked. “Is Nina out of the running now?”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m not sure. Just because she was telling the truth about her missing gift doesn’t necessarily make her innocent of these threats against Anne. What if your knife was just misplaced?”

  I sighed. “That’s possible. I should probably ask in the kitchen, though that means admitting to Tim that it’s gone.” I glanced over at the burly contractor at table three. “Then what about Kuchinski and Powers? They were definitely plotting something outside. Something that Kuchinski insisted had to be done tonight.”

  “They could have meant anything.” Sofia’s tone was doubtful.

  “Maybe, but . . . hang on a minute. Gale Spaulding implied she thought Kuchinski was capable of this. Maybe she can tell us more about him. Wait here.”

  I found Gale at her table and motioned her to follow. “Listen,” I said under my breath, “I’m getting desperate here. Is there anything you can tell me about Jeff Kuchinski? Or Jeannette Powers?”

  She gave me a knowing look over her glasses. “You mean aside from their on-again, off-again relationship?”

  “They’re involved?”

  Gale rolled her eyes. “If you can call it that. They’re the most dysfunctional couple I’ve ever seen. Word has it he’s pushing her to get engaged, but she keeps putting him off. And to that I say, bravo, Jeannette. The guy’s a loser.”

  But was he dangerous? It was looking more and more unlikely. When I met up with Sofia, she had a familiar gleam in her eye.

  “While you were talking to Gale, I started digging again,” she said. “And look what I found.” She tapped the screen and zoomed in on a bespectacled male figure. “It’s from the Oceanside Chronicle. Read the caption.”

  I squinted at the screen. Mayor Anne McCrae presents service award to Eagle Scout Jared Reed. Also pictured: Ms. Ruby Reed and Bradley Schultz.

  “Now look at the date,” Sofia sai
d. “Late November. Exactly the time he said he was in Florida. He was here, Vic. And he had easy access to Anne.”

  And suddenly, there it was at the edge of my brain, unearthed like a small treasure washed up by the tide. The detail. The snatch of conversation I had strained to remember was something Nina said when she arrived at the restaurant: Her bow-tied minion is already lurking outside. Nina wasn’t the only one who could have seen me brandishing my shiny new Christmas gift—or where I’d put it afterward.

  “Oh, my God,” I whispered. “I think he might have the knife.” I gripped her arm. “Go back and sit down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. But text Danny. See if there’s any way he can get here.” I gave her a quick head start and then hurried back across the dining room, determined to keep Brad Shultz in my sights until help came. But when I got there, his and Anne’s seats were empty. A cold chill settled over me.

  “Victoria, sit down—your fish is here already,” Nonna said.

  Then I did a rare thing. A nearly impossible thing. I ignored my grandmother. “Dad, where’s Mayor McCrae? Is Brad with her?”

  “I think they went outside, baby,” he said as he dug into his octopus. “Guess something came up.”

  Please don’t let it be my knife. Sofia’s eyes met mine and she shifted in her chair. “Their fish is getting cold,” I said, more loudly than I intended. “I’ll go find them.”

  I was halfway down the hall when Sofia caught up with me. “You shouldn’t be here,” I hissed. “He could be dangerous.”

  “I’ll stay in the kitchen,” she said. “I can watch through the window. If things look bad, I’ll drag Tim and the whole kitchen staff outside.”

  “No,” I insisted. “Keep trying Danny. I don’t want to put anybody else at risk.”

  “Then why are you going out there?”

  “Just to see if Anne’s okay. And whether he has the knife. Maybe I can distract him somehow. From a distance,” I added. “I’m not taking any chances.” I patted my pocket. “And I’ve got my phone. So don’t worry.”

  “Be careful,” she whispered.

  I grabbed my coat and slipped out the back of the restaurant, scanning the parking lot first. It looked empty and quiet. And he’d stay away from a lighted area, I thought. I moved back into the darkness outside the kitchen door and felt my way across the brick toward the alley next door. I peered down the narrow pathway, but there was no sign of the mayor or her assistant. Then I heard a rustling sound and two voices coming from behind our large Dumpster. Holding my breath, I crept closer.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” Anne was saying. “I should have known.”

  I heard the rumble of his voice but couldn’t make out his reply. “What is it you want?” Anne asked him. “Just tell me and we can work something out. But I refuse to entertain any requests until you put that knife down.”

  I let out a small gasp and immediately clapped my hand over my mouth. As quietly as possible, I backed away from the Dumpster, fumbling in my pocket for the phone. By now my hands were numb. I held the phone in my left hand, trying to text with shaking fingers. And then he was standing in front of me, holding Anne in front of him like a human shield. In his free hand was my Christmas gift, which he had aimed at Anne’s side.

  “Your phone, Ms. Rienzi,” Brad Schultz said. “Now, please, unless you want me to hurt her.”

  “Give it to him, Victoria,” Anne said through her teeth.

  I held up the phone. “Here it is. I’m putting it on the ground, okay?” No way was I getting anywhere near Brad Schultz—or the blade of that knife.

  “Kick it this way,” Brad said. “Right where I can see it.”

  I gave it a few nudges with my toe, grateful it was in its case. But a scratched phone would be a small price to pay if I managed to get out of this one. I glanced at Anne, who seemed more angry than afraid. But we were at a standstill. My phone was out of reach. I had no weapon. And now Brad had Anne in a headlock, the tip of the knife hovering less than an inch from her face.

  “Brad,” Anne said calmly, “it’s difficult to talk when you’re squeezing my neck like that.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” The Brad Schultz who was holding Anne at knifepoint was a very different person from the meek assistant he had presented earlier. His glasses had slipped to the end of his nose; behind them, his eyes were dark and devoid of feeling. Except maybe rage. “How does it feel now, Your Honor? With someone else holding the power? Someone telling you what to do for a change?” he asked, pointing the knife at her cheek.

  “I know I haven’t always treated you with the respect you deserve,” Anne said. “But if you’ll just let me go, I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  “It’s too late for that!” he shouted, waving the knife. “You can’t give me back my self-respect. I had ambitions of my own, you know. When I said I wanted to run for public office, you sneered at me. You said I should stick to what I do best: taking notes and organizing schedules and fielding your damn phone calls.” His voice trembled, his eyes filling with tears.

  I took a breath. “Brad,” I began, “just please think about what you’re doing, okay?”

  “I’ve spent two years thinking about it,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ve had enough humiliation at her hands to last me a lifetime.”

  “I understand, but—” My attention was caught by a familiar figure who suddenly emerged from the shadows of the parking lot. He had a purposeful stride that quickened with each step toward us. As he passed under the lamplight, I glimpsed his wavy hair. When he caught my eye, he nodded sharply, and my relief was so overpowering my knees nearly gave out. I tried to keep Brad talking.

  “But this isn’t the way,” I said. My eyes flicked above Brad’s head, to where the man was standing—directly behind him.

  “She’s right, brother,” he said into Brad’s ear. “It’s not.”

  Startled, Brad wheeled around, still holding the knife. At that moment, Anne stamped on his foot; as Brad loosened his hold on her, our savior managed to wrench the knife from his hand and slip it into his coat pocket. Brad crumpled to the ground, weeping.

  Heart pounding, I looked at the man in front of me with affection and gratitude. “Calvin Lockhart,” I said in a shaking voice, “I was never so glad to see anybody in my life.”

  • • •

  “Here,” Tim said, handing me my Christmas gift, now wrapped in a white napkin. “It’s wiped clean. I mean, it was just his handprints.” He shook his head. “Ugh. I still think I should get you a new one.”

  “No. It’s not like he used it.” I made a face. “Ooh, that came out wrong.”

  “I know what you mean. You know, I don’t think he would have done it, Vic. Hurt her physically, I mean. I think in a weird way he just wanted her attention.”

  “I think so, too. It’s probably good she’s not pressing charges. And it’s good he’s getting the help he needs. And what’s really good—”

  “Is that the Casa Lido avoided any more bad publicity. But I can’t figure out how. Why didn’t Nina LaGuardia run off to write the front page afterward?”

  “Simple—Anne promised she’d get Nina’s job back at the TV station.”

  I shook my head and grinned. “That’s not just good. That’s a Christmas miracle.”

  He took my hands, his face serious. “What about us? Do we get our Christmas miracle?”

  “You know we do.”

  His expression tightened and his eyes were wary. “Even though Lockhart’s back?”

  “He’s a friend, Tim. End of story.”

  He pulled me close to him and I rested my head against his shoulder. Through the kitchen window, I could see Cal getting into his truck. For a moment, he stood watching us, raising his hand in a brief wave before climbing inside and driving away.

  Christmas Day

  “Well, that was qu
ite a night,” I said, helping myself to one of my mother’s homemade manicotti.

  “Never a dull moment with the Rienzis,” my dad said with a grin. “But I can’t believe all that was goin’ on right under our noses.”

  “Neither can I,” Danny said gruffly, shooting me a look across my parents’ dining room table.

  “We were planning to tell you,” I said. “Once that knife went missing, I knew we didn’t have a choice.”

  “But then you were gone,” Sofia added. “And Anne was pressuring Vic, threatening us with a lawyer.”

  My mother shook her head, her auburn curls bouncing. “Honestly, Victoria, I don’t know how you get yourself mixed up in these things.”

  “Nicolina, the girl may have kept us from a lawsuit,” Nonna said, giving me a slight nod.

  What do you know? I thought. My grandmother is taking my side. Yet another Christmas miracle. “And how fortunate that Calvino appeared when he did,” she added, glancing at Tim.

  “Yes, that was good timing,” I said, looking down at my plate. Cal showing up when he did was lucky. But it was also a bit unsettling. Avoiding Tim’s gaze, I pushed the thought away and focused on my grandmother, who had gotten to her feet.

  “It’s time for a toast.” She smiled and held out her wineglass. “We have much to be thankful for. Our family. Our friends. The baby who will be blessing us with his presence soon.”

  “Note the pronoun,” I whispered to Sofia, who grinned and rolled her eyes.

  “And the Casa Lido,” Nonna continued, “our family business which is more than a business, but our passion and our vocation.” She lifted her glass. “To family, friends and good food. And a Merry Christmas to you all!”

  “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” we all chorused.

  “And God bless us, everyone,” I added. But then I looked around at the faces at the table—my mom and dad, Nonna, Sofia and Danny, and finally, Tim. The people I loved most in the world. And on this festive, happy day, I realized I had all the blessings I needed.