Duncan decided to save the kitchen tour for another day. Maybe by then Armondo would be in a better humor. Perhaps he would examine the area before the chef arrived for work tomorrow. He'd prefer not to tangle with Mondo based upon what he had seen today.
Bodega Manchiego, the tapas bar, was a pleasant stroll from the academy. A warm evening met them when they left the building, and Duncan witnessed the village come alive with people. When they arrived, the establishment was crowded and patrons spilled onto the sidewalk, eating and drinking at small tables placed there. Everyone appeared happy and carefree.
Frogo pushed through the crowd, Duncan following his lead. Once inside, the director said something to the young bartender who pointed to a corner in the back. A couple just vacated a table for two, and he was quick to grab it. After the two men procured a place to sit, he pointed to the handwritten menu on a blackboard
"Would you like me to order?" Frogo asked.
He nodded, Yes, and as Frogo worked his way back to the bar Duncan glanced around the establishment. Behind the counter, a floor to ceiling wooden wine rack lined the entire wall. Bottles of wine filled every small, square cubbyhole. An old fashioned scale sat on the bar and Duncan assumed the staff weighed portions of expensive jamón, or ham, there. Two narrow Corinthian columns held up the ceiling near the front of the restaurant while wooden supports could be seen within the back wall, just behind their table. At some point, someone installed a stone partition between the supports. Cracked and stained plaster covered the walls and ceiling, where electric fans hung, circulating air. The place smelled of wine and tobacco, but the fans sucked fresh air in from the open windows and doors, keeping those odors minimal.
Frogo snaked a path around the tables and chairs crammed into the bodega, carrying two glasses of red wine. The genteel director carried himself with savoir faire, smiling and greeting both patrons and employees of the bodega. A waiter followed with the bottle and an oval plate. Duncan looked at the food. He was unfamiliar with Spanish cuisine.
The director spotted his confused expression and explained, "In traditional tapas bars, food is presented to the patrons in gratitude for ordering drinks. This bodega does have a few specialty items, more like a meal, that you can order, but they are generous with their tapas. We'll have more than enough food."
"Ah," Duncan said. "What have we got here?" he asked, pointed towards an item on the plate.
Before he finished speaking, the waiter appeared again with a bowl of olives.
"That is toast with bacalao, or cod, and fresh diced tomatoes. This is Tortilla Espanola, a traditional potato omelet, and these are olives," Frogo said with a smile while the waiter returned with two small cups of red liquid. He continued, pointing to the cups, "Salmorejo, a creamy chilled tomato soup. Bon appetite!"
Duncan tucked into the food at once. He usually ate earlier in the evening and his stomach rumbled. The two finished off the tapas and were enjoying the bottle of wine when the waiter approached them again. This time he placed a tray of paper thin sliced jamón, Manchego cheese, dried figs and apple wedges on the table. Frogo polished off the last of the wine and signaled for the waiter to bring more. He would have preferred a pint, but figured, When in Rome do as the Romans.
Frogo wrapped a slice of jamón around several matchstick cuts of Manchego, and Duncan followed suit. The creamy white dimpled cheese had a peppery bite and went well with the sweet flavored undertones of the ham. After finishing the local delicacies, he was full and tired. His new friend, however, was just getting started. The director became more talkative with each glass of wine.
"See those over there?"
Frogo gestured towards two attractive girls at a nearby table. Duncan peeked in their direction and both females beamed at the men.
"They've been eyeing you."
Duncan looked down at his plate, following his first inclination. Michty me, he thought. The Scotsman was always surprised to find a female taking an interest. He lifted his gaze and stared at the two lasses. They were pretty, and erupted into giggles when he flashed them his grin. He glanced at Frogo to see if he'd done anything to make them laugh, but the director appeared to be only observing the interaction between Duncan and the young ladies.
He never thought of himself as handsome and thus was oblivious to the effect he had on women. Angus was the brother who usually had a girlfriend or band of admirers. Duncan's intense dark eyes and aquiline nose had earned him the description hawkish, but he was never quite sure what that meant. His square jaw, ample dark hair, and tall athletic build garnered attention from females, but because he'd grown up chunky, bookish, and shy, he was unaware of his good looks. Unlike his true temperament, his quiet nature and appearance often made people assume he was dark and brooding. He was in the best shape of his adult life and knew that. During the last six months, he'd avoided self-pity and depression by exercising whenever either of those emotions began to bog him down. He'd spent all his energy on exercise and getting his business off the ground.
Duncan nudged Frogo and nodded towards the Spanish lasses, raising his eyebrows. Frogo responded by waving at the young ladies and offering them his brilliant white smile. The girls spoke with the couple seated at the table between them. A Chinese fire drill of sorts took place, with the lasses and the other couple trading tables. The men then pushed their own table against the girls', and soon they were all conversing like old friends. Spanish lasses amazed him. They were so friendly. Before the evening was over, they'd shared a bottle of wine and exchanged numbers.
He kept his drinking to a minimum. Exhausted from the trip and the day's events, he felt like he could drop off to sleep at a moment's notice. The director, on the other hand, imbibed quite a bit. The wine loosened his tongue on the walk home.
"What are these colorful flags?" Duncan asked, pointing up to the decorations strung across the street.
"The triangular ones reflect Manchiego's history and the oblong the crops grown in the region as well as crests of our old families. We have a festival at the end of summer celebrating all these," he explained, lifting his arms above his head towards the banners.
Duncan decided to shift gears while he had the chance.
"What do you think of Sunny Bentwell?" he asked, shortening the chairwoman's name.
"Be careful of her, Duncan. She's been very nice to me. Somehow owed my aunt a favor and that's how I got my position. But, she's a collector."
"An art collector? That's no surprise. She seems like an art lover."
"A collector of people," Frogo replied in a somber tone, stopping to face Duncan.
He looked Duncan square in the eye for a moment, as if sober.
Then he said, "This is my street," bobbing his head towards a nearby lane. "If you keep on this road, you'll come to the casa in about half a kilometer, on the right. I'll see you tomorrow, Duncan."
Frogo smiled and was gone, heading up the street to his home. His frank comment about Sunny caught Duncan off guard. He took the director to be a perceptive fellow. He continued on the street until he found his house. He didn't have a key, so he knocked on the door and Mary let him in. He fell asleep within five minutes of his head hitting the pillow.
- 4 -
Breakfast, Beethoven, & A Beautiful Bronze
When Duncan awoke the next morning, the sun was already streaming in his window. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and ambled downstairs in search of caffeine. Mary waited for him in the kitchen, preparing a steaming beverage when he arrived. He took the large cup and inhaled what smelled like strong coffee. The traditional café con leche contained a shot of espresso and heaps of hot frothy milk.
The housekeeper presented him with a tray of small muffins and said, "These are magdalenas, a traditional breakfast cupcake. In Spain, breakfast is the smallest meal of the day. It satisfies us until lunch at two o'clock. If you would prefer a traditional English breakfast, I can cook that for you as well."
"This will be perfect, Mary. Thank you,"
he said as he sat down at the rustic farm style table and popped a muffin in his mouth.
The buttery morsel tasted rich and lemony. He consumed several between sips of his café con leche. He felt sluggish after his late night. Lounging at the kitchen table until the caffeine from his drink started to kick in, he thought of his evening with Frogo. Duncan liked the director. He would like to speak at length with him about Sunny, but didn't know if a sober Frogo would be as candid.
After breakfast, he showered and dressed before heading back to the academy. On his way out of the Casa, Mary handed him a key.
"Will you be returning for lunch, Señor?"
"No, Mary, I think I'll just eat at the academy. Should I call you to let you know my dinner plans?"
She said that would be a good idea and he took down the phone number of the casa before leaving. Having someone at his beck and call was a new experience.
Duncan enjoyed the stroll to the academy. The morning sun shone bright on the small village streets, but a soft breeze kept the atmosphere cool and pleasant. He scrutinized the houses, noting that some seemed far older than others. A few of these quaint structures were built of crumbling stacked stone. He wondered if the others were just plastered over versions of the same. Manchiego appeared nothing if not charming.
He peeked in Frogo's office once he arrived at the academy. Frogo was absent-mindedly dunking a long, thin piece of fried dough into what looked like a cup of hot chocolate while scanning a report on his desk.
"Good morning," Duncan greeted the director.
"Hola, Duncan. I didn't know we'd see you this early today," he said with a smile. He added, "You must rest from your trip, no?"
"Well, I did sleep in this morning. I'm used to starting the day much earlier," Duncan replied, lifting his briefcase and gesturing towards his office next door. "I'll just get down to it, then," he said.
"Very good. Let me know if you need anything. Care to have lunch in the dining hall with me?"
"I'd love to," Duncan said and continued to his own office.
He sat at his desk, smiling. He was beginning to understand that Spain's pace of life was quite different than that of London or Edinburgh. Everyone seemed so relaxed and happy. Well, everyone except the academy's chef.
Duncan opened his laptop and got to work on his fault tree analysis. He no longer had an information technology department at his disposal to run powerful computer software and analyses. The results would take longer to get, but would still be accurate.
In the few days between the time Nigel Carlyle met him in Edinburgh and the flight to Spain, Duncan had done some digging. He'd contacted the manufacturer of the crane and now his inbox contained emails from those he had spoken with. A message from a company engineer revealed that the upper limit lever on the ATLAS 4000 crane had never failed before. This knob in the derrick's cab controlled the up and down movement of the hook, or clasp. He said because of safety concerns, it was one of the strongest components of the crane's design. The hook held whatever the hoist lifted and had its own set of riggings. It moved up and down, from the tip of the derrick's arm, by cables, while the arm of the crane stayed locked in place. The police reports stated failure of the upper limit lever as the cause of the accident because the clasp holding the load was undamaged. The cable supporting the stove remained intact, so that had not snapped.
Another email from the manufacturer's top salesman claimed that even derricks not properly maintained did not report this kind of failure. The company who operated the crane that day at the academy was now, a little less than two months later, out of business. They were fly-by-night types from the get go and should have been utilizing a sling to lift the stove instead of only cables.
During this time, he watched every crane safety and training video he could find on the internet. He then tested his understanding of how cranes operate by enrolling in and taking an online safety course. Next, he viewed countless films of crane wrecks and disasters. Before this case, he didn't realize how risky operating a crane could be.
The ATLAS 4000 utilized hydraulics to keep the crane level and extend or retract its arm, which could swivel 180 degrees. Regulations require at least one spotter on the ground to assist the operator in hoisting, moving, and lowering the load. After the arm is placed over the cargo, the upper limit lever lowers the clasp by cables. The hook, or clasp, is then applied to the riggings on the load, and the crew determines its center of gravity. This is accomplished by raising the cargo to see how its weight distributes under the hook. The freight's center of gravity must stay directly below the clasp. Adjustments are often necessary to achieve this.
Once the crew stabilizes the load's center of gravity below the hook, it can be lifted, and the crane's arm rotated to move the goods above the desired location. At that point, the lever is again used to descend the hook and the cargo. When the freight reaches the ground, the operator adjusts the lever so enough slack exists in the rigging to remove it from the hook. The upper limit lever is raised and the clasp returns to its stationary site. At this point, the job is almost finished. The operator swivels the arm back to its home position, and the hydraulics then shorten its length for travel.
Duncan began to fear someone had released the lever, dropping the stove on the cook, Ella Peña. He needed to discover if anyone had a motive for such a heinous act. Armondo Berluca, the chef, came to mind. He had a temper and perhaps career advancement as a motive. He contacted the private investigator he used from time to time and requested a full background check on Ella Peña. Perhaps that would give him the answers he desired. The file provided by Nigel only included the cook's work history from her employment application.
In the meantime, everyone could think he was investigating an accident. His fault tree analysis would help determine what did in fact cause the tragedy. Duncan owed his entire career to this analysis, which he developed in graduate school. Pinpointing the cause of the Oldbury Nuclear Power Plant accident in 2007 by utilizing his fault tree program brought fame and fortune his way. Duncan ran his hand through his thick black hair and began the tedious task of setting parameters and entering data into the analysis. He lost track of time and bolted upright when Frogo knocked on his office door frame.
"Ready for lunch?"
Duncan glanced at his watch. The face read two o'clock, just as Mary had said. He had a slight headache from concentrating the last four hours.
"Sounds great," he replied, standing up and joining Frogo in the hall.
As they entered the academy's dining room Frogo said, "I'll introduce you to some of the artists, if they're here today."
Duncan wanted to meet the academy's guests and question them at some point. He looked around the area. There were about ten people sitting in various groups in the room. In one corner, a man and a woman slumped in chairs awaiting their lunch. A group of three men and one woman occupied a round table at the center of the dining hall. Another corner held a lone man, already eating. At a long table to one side of the room sat two more people and, Oh no, Sunny Bentwell Esperanza Carlyle Tormes poised at its head. He shifted his eyes elsewhere and pretended not to see the chairwoman.
Frogo touched Duncan's arm.
"Sunny's here. We'll have to sit with her. She doesn't come by often," he lowered his voice and continued, "but when she does she expects to hold court."
He walked to the long table and greeted Sunny with a combination of warmth and respect. That Frogo is good, Duncan thought. The director possessed consummate people skills. It didn't matter if he dealt with the chef, the chairwoman of the academy, or a waiter. He knew how to treat others.
Duncan followed Frogo to the table and to his chagrin, saw a chair available next to Sunny.
"Duncan Darling, you must sit here, with me," the chairwoman proclaimed, patting the empty seat. "Have you recovered from your trip?" she asked.
"Yes, I believe so," Duncan responded, trying to sound pleasant.
"And are your accommodations acceptabl
e?" Sunny questioned.
"Yes, the casa is lovely. Mary makes me feel right at home," he answered.
"I'm happy to hear it, Duncan. Let me introduce two of our artists, Rhinehart and Juliette."
Sunny gestured to each artist while Duncan rose to shake their hands.
She continued, "Rhinehart, Juliette, this is Duncan. He's here to investigate poor Ms. Peña's accident."
Sunny's mouth formed a combination pout and frowny face that didn't suit her. Both artists followed her example. Duncan realized her power in the art world must extend beyond the academy.
"Perhaps Rhinehart and Juliette wouldn't mind you taking a peek at their work later today," suggested Frogo.
Sunny smiled her agreement and both artists consented to a visit from Duncan after lunch. A waiter approached their table with bottles of chilled mineral water and poured drinks for the group. Another staffer followed with lunch, a salad of mixed fruit and lettuce. The salad was tasty but left him on empty. It was only then that he looked at the menu card at his place. Lunch consisted of three courses and coffee. Shrimp à L'Academy arrived in a tall glass. The card described the dish as Prawns in a garlic and chili sauce topped with avocado foam and tortilla shard. A waiter poured rosado, or rosé wine, to accompany the main course.
Frogo winked at Duncan and said, "Armondo prepared this all by himself today. His new sous chef won't arrive until tomorrow."
Then the director dug into his lunch. Duncan noticed that Sunny picked at her food while both artists had good appetites. He took a bite of Armondo's creation and decided the chef was a genius. The avocado foam was the perfect foil to the spicy shrimp. The tortilla shard provided a bread-like side. He resisted the urge to upend the glass and drink the dregs of the light red sauce.
Individual pots of rich flan with thick burnt sugar sauce on the bottom followed the seafood dish. After dessert, the waiters brought everyone a cup of café solo, or black coffee. The Vizcondesa led the conversation, and she steered talk towards the arts and academy gossip. Duncan wanted to get back to work, but Frogo seemed firmly planted in his chair, along with everyone else in the dining room, so he sat tight.
Mystery: The Cook's Comeuppance: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 3) Page 3
