Frogo stifled a laugh and Duncan chuckled.
"Inside joke?" Angus asked.
"No," Duncan answered, looking at Angus. He continued, glancing between Frogo and his brother, "It's just that I got run out of the chef's kitchen the other day. He calls part of it his Inner Sanctum. He's a temperamental one, but his food is excellent. I was hoping you'd join us for lunch in the dining hall, Frogo, and that afterwards Angus and I might be able to see more of the artists' work."
"I'll see what I can arrange. Shall we meet down there around two?" Frogo asked.
"Thank you, that would be perfect."
"What else do you have planned to show Angus? We want him to have a good impression of our country."
"We're going to hit Manchiego's night scene later. Are you free, Frogo? We'd love for you to come and give us some pointers," Duncan asked.
"I'd love to. Let's join up around ten. In the meantime, enjoy Mondo's Friday fare. He always cooks something special in honor of the weekend."
The brothers thanked Frogo and strolled to the dining room early. The hall was all set for guests, but no one had arrived.
"Wow, this is some school cafeteria," Angus said, gazing up at the old wood beams stretching across the high ceiling.
His face brightened.
"Hey, remember that time in the States when our school served those horrible, fat bangers and everyone stuffed theirs in the S hooks on those chains, under the tables?"
Angus started to snicker.
"Yes, I remember. It was Hot Dog Thursday and for some reason the school could not procure the usual foot-longs. I was on lunch duty that week. It was punishment for something or other," Duncan paused and shook his head trying to remember what he'd done to deserve lunch duty, which required serving food and cleaning up the cafeteria after the meal. He continued, "I had to pry all those sausages out and wipe down the chains. Those metal links were used to secure the tables after they were folded and pushed against the wall. I missed all of noon recess and part of the next! If I recall, Angus, you were the one who got that whole wiener rebellion started."
Duncan snorted, holding back a laugh. He could imagine Mondo's reaction if something like that happened here. He didn’t dare share his thoughts with Angus. His brother might try to implement another rebellion.
He continued, changing the subject, "Here, let's take a table with a view near the windows."
They sat and waited for a server to appear. Angus enjoyed the view while Duncan began to catch faint wafts of whatever the chef had cooking. One of the usual waiters appeared and placed bottled water on their table before disappearing into the kitchen again. Rhinehart and another man he did not recognize arrived. The glass maker smiled and nodded at him. He waved back as a greeting.
"Can we spot the house from here?" Angus asked, scanning the roofs and hills beyond, visible out the window.
"No, the casa is in the other direction," he said, pointing towards the entrance to the dining room.
"I'm excited about my visit. Thanks for letting me join you, Dee Dee."
He used his old nickname for his brother. The name was habit, even though he knew Duncan wasn't fond of it. He'd made an effort not to use it in the last few months, but still had the occasional slip up.
Angus continued, "Spain seems so relaxing. I can't wait to lay by the pool and just unwind. I don't think anything could interrupt the wonderful atmosphere here."
"There is one thing I've been meaning to tell you, Ang… "
A commotion interrupted him mid-sentence. Duncan jerked around in his chair to witness Mondo and two kitchen helpers struggling with what appeared to be an enormous iron pan. The chef held one handle, while the two others utilized mitts to hold the handle on the opposite side of the pan. The three men were hurrying towards Duncan's table with a steaming and sizzling concoction.
"Paella!" Mondo announced, and the three men tilted the pan so Angus and Duncan could see its contents.
They continued without pausing to Rhinehart's table and one other before trotting the large cooking implement back into the kitchen.
"Wow, that smells good!" Angus remarked, swiping the lingering steam from his face.
"Did you see those clams and prawns? I'm ravenous. I still haven't adjusted to the Spanish routine," he said.
Before he finished his sentence, a waiter placed a large plate of the steaming seafood dish before each brother. Duncan admired the large unshelled prawns, mussels, calamari, and clams. He took a bite and enjoyed the layers of flavor dissolving on his palette. He tasted garlic, thyme, lemon and onion. Plum tomatoes, green beans, and bell peppers added variety to the beautiful golden rice which was caramelized in places.
"Mmm, this is so delicious," he said, pulling a shrimp from its shell and savoring its salty flavor. "I can taste the sea in this dish," he added.
"I cook this over the open flame out back," Armonodo spoke from behind Duncan.
The chef had approached with stealth as they concentrated on their lunch.
He continued, "Who is your friend, Peasant?" He looked to Angus without waiting for an introduction and asked, "Do you appreciate my food?"
Angus's mouth was stuffed with paella, so Duncan spoke first.
"This is my brother, Angus. He's vacationing here while I finish my investigation, Chef."
Angus didn't know how to take Mondo referring to his brother as a "peasant," but since Duncan seemed on friendly terms with this man, he let it pass, sort of.
He swallowed and said, "Mighty good scran, Cook."
Duncan cringed inside. He'd seen Mondo at his worst and worried a fist fight might break out right here in the dining hall. He glanced at Angus who looked the picture of innocence, beaming up at the chef. Armondo's lifted eyebrow advanced towards his nose and almost met its partner before his chubby face erupted in a grin as wide as the ocean.
"I don't understand this, this scran, you say. But Mondo's food is more than mighty good!" the chef said, pulling up a chair and smacking Angus on the back, hard. "You Englishmen are not used to the fantástico cuisine of Armondo Berluca!"
Mondo's bulk dwarfed the wooden chair, and sections of his body, clad in a chef's uniform of white fabric and pants with tiny purple butterflies scattered here and there, extended beyond both sides of the seat. Large, periwinkle, rubber clogs completed his look.
"We're Scottish."
He corrected Mondo, who waved his plump hand in a dismissive response. Angus gave a subtle shake of his head conveying, Don't bother, to his brother.
Duncan continued, "Your paella is a work of art. I've never had it before. The prawns taste incredible and I love the texture of this delicious rice."
An expression of supreme satisfaction reigned on the chef's countenance.
"Those are shrimp, not prawns. Prawns are from fresh water and shrimp come from the ocean. Also, look at the claws on its legs." Mondo lifted a shrimp from Duncan's plate and touched two legs still attached to its shell. "A shrimp has claws on only two pairs of legs, but a prawn has three sets of scratchers," he added.
Their education on seafood complete for the day, the chef rose and moved on to another table of diners. They watched as he accepted more compliments.
"He's quite the bloke, isn't he?" Angus commented in a hushed tone. "Should we invite him to join us by the pool?" he added, chuckling.
"Angus, there's something I need to… "
"He'd make a brilliant cannon ball, wouldn't he?" Angus continued, snorting as he tried to contain his laughter.
"Angus, listen, I… " Duncan stopped mid sentence.
Something had snapped Angus from his reverie, and his face wore a familiar expression, the corners of his mouth turned up in a dashing manner that said, Attractive female approaching.
Duncan turned just as Juliette reached his chair. He couldn't help feeling pleased that she trained her gaze upon him and not his brother. He always felt Angus was the better looking of the two, and he possessed an easy social manner that Duncan
lacked.
"Hola, Duncan," the black haired stunner said, never taking her eyes off him.
"Hallo, Juliette. Let me introduce you to my brother. Juliette, this is Angus," Duncan stated as his brother rose from his seat. "Angus this is Juliette, one of the artists staying at the academy."
Angus reached for her hand and gave it a gentle but firm shake.
"Nice to meet you, Juliette. Will you join us?"
Smooth, thought Duncan. Juliette smiled at Angus but then shifted her gaze back to Duncan.
"Shall I?" she asked him.
"Yes, please do," Duncan answered.
Her attention sent a small thrill through his body. Juliette wore her standard cutoff jeans, white tank top and sneakers. He concentrated on being a gentleman and keeping his eyes on her face and not her legs. Angus leapt to pull out the chair for her and she lowered herself into the seat, smiling at Duncan the entire time. He noticed her teeth were bright white, perfectly straight, and small. One observed a wide variety of teeth in Britain.
Angus took his seat and said, "What sort of art do you do?"
"I'm a sculptress," she replied, allowing her eyes to linger on Duncan's face before looking at Angus.
"She's a very good one, too," Duncan stated. He continued, "Is the foundry giving you any more trouble?"
"Not a bit. We are on schedule to pour early next week. We must celebrate, no?"
Juliette glanced back at Angus.
"I have a friend who would like to meet a Scotsman. Should we all have dinner Saturday night?"
She returned her gaze to Duncan as if she was asking him.
"That sounds brilliant. We'd love to," he said.
He couldn't believe his luck. He'd found a lass that seemed to prefer him over Angus. And best of all, she was the opposite of Caroline Menzies.
"Get my number from Frogo and give me a call around noon on Saturday, no?" she said in her charming way, before leaving.
The brothers stood to see her off.
After she'd walked out of the hall, Angus said, "Isn't she a bit too caliente for you? Young as well. Wouldn't want to see you get burned."
Duncan felt himself turning red and took a deep breath.
"I'll be fine," he said, spotting the director heading their way.
He was relieved to see Frogo approaching with his own plate of Mondo's paella.
"Hallo there, Frogo. Mondo outdid himself today," Duncan greeted the director.
"Sí. The man is a true genius in the kitchen," Frogo stated, as he sat down. "Say, I've arranged for you to meet with Geoffry Goetz and Isabella Ramon after lunch. They are two more of our artists. I'm afraid several have already left for the weekend, but Geoffry would be happy to chat in his studio and Isabella has agreed to meet you in her apartment."
- 9 -
Origami & Prose
Geoffry Goetz preferred paper as his medium. Duncan glanced around the studio, noting posters of the artist's work. A stunning three dimensional rendition of Michelangelo's David announced a show at London's hippest art gallery. Another poster reflected a floral bouquet that Duncan could have sworn was made from real roses. The stems and leaves gave it away, being white. Then he saw a tall ship, complete with ocean waves and windblown sails, advertising a mariner's museum. Looking around, he spied many different types of scissors scattered on the room's tables and counters. Stacks of paper of all sizes, toothpicks, paper presses, newspapers, books, and jars of glue filled the room. Diagrams of a ship covered one wall.
"Ah, ah, ah! Don't make a move," Geoffry shouted at Angus, who had stepped backwards onto what he thought was an ordinary floor covering. "Slowly lift that back foot and remove it from my paper," the artist instructed, and he did as told. "That sheet came special, from Berlin. It's an unusual count paper in a unique size."
Unfortunately, Angus left a pale footprint on Geoffry's medium.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought it was a carpet," he apologized.
The artist came over and kneeled to examine the damage.
"It's all right. I can remove light marks with an eraser. He continued, pointing to the ship schematics on the wall, "My next project is the Titanic and I will utilize this large, heavyweight paper."
He rose and walked to a cabinet across the room, gesturing for the brothers to follow. He removed something from a shelf with care and turned to face them. Duncan gasped. Seeing a three dimensional paper sculpture in person did not compare to viewing a poster. Geoffry held a model of the Titanic, sculpted from folded paper. Even at less than a meter long, the subject was obvious.
"I've never seen anything like this," Duncan said, amazed.
Angus remained speechless, but without realizing reached for the model.
"No, no, no," Geoffry chastised, shaking his head. "See with your eyes, not your hands," he added.
It was a phrase the brothers heard often during their years in the States.
The artist continued, "My work is fragile. Just paper, no heavy stabilizers or supports."
"How do you make them?" Angus asked, finding his tongue at last.
"I start with a plan. That's the hardest part, designing how I'll bring an item to life. I don't share details of this process. Those are my trade secrets. I'm still revamping the plans for my Titanic. But, I built this model during my time here. I love the academy. I can work for hours with no interruptions," Geoffry stated, placing the mini Titanic back in its cupboard.
"What led you into this medium?" Duncan asked.
"I always loved working with paper as a kid, making admiral's hats and boats for the gutter. After art school, I toyed around with it on the side, while working as a commercial artist. My sculptures got more and more detailed, and one day I got up the nerve to show one to a gallery owner who was gobsmacked. I knew I was on to something then. She arranged for a show in her gallery and my work sold out. Now, institutions often commission pieces. But, I still do shows once in a while, and private requests of course."
Duncan observed Geoffry as he spoke about his work. Tall and thin, he sported a navy blazer over a white polo shirt and tan khaki slacks. Comfy-looking driving moccasins clad his large feet. He dressed more like an accountant than an artist. Geoffry wore a goatee and sideburns that stretched down his long face to almost meet his beard. His reddish-brown hair appeared a tad shocking against his white pallor. His slight accent gave away the years he'd spent in Holland.
"I'd love to see your Titanic when it's completed," Duncan remarked.
"It will be on display at Merseyside Maritime Museum in Liverpool next year. They want it for the anniversary of the ship's demise, so anytime after April 15th you'll be able to view it. The museum commissioned it for their permanent exhibit on the Titanic," Geoffry stated. He continued, "Frogo told me you are here investigating the cook's death. Did you have any questions for me about that before you go?"
He noted Geoffry referred to the incident as a death instead of an accident. He also got the hint that the artist was ready for them to leave.
He began, "Yes, I do. Did you see anything unusual that night or the next morning?"
"I got back after Rhinehart found the body and the place was swarming by then with police, artists and villagers. I can't add anything to what Rhinehart already told you about that day. But, I did hear something the next night that might interest you."
"What was that?" Duncan asked.
Somehow Geoffry knew about his talk with the glass maker.
"I like to spend time in bodegas that you might say are off the beaten path. I was out the following night at a small place on the outskirts of Manchiego. Everyone in the bar discussed the accident. I happened to be sitting next to a guy who had already overdone it. He was half passed out and slurring his words. He kept leaning up against me, like he wanted to fall asleep. He asked me if I knew who murdered that cook. You can imagine my surprise."
Geoffry paused and looked from Duncan to Angus and back again.
"What did you say?" Duncan prodded.
"I said it was an accident. The guy pulls off me and says, 'No, I work there and it was no accident.' At first I thought he meant he worked at the academy, but he went on to say that the crane's crew piddled around in the morning to waste time, so they'd have to stop working early."
"Did you report this to the police?" Duncan asked.
"At the time, I figured the guy was just drunk and telling a story to get attention. I mean he was soused, and I assumed the police already interviewed him. He did say he was part of the crew. Before it went any further, a couple of his buddies came into the bodega and drug him out of there. Later, it troubled me a little, so I called the police and gave them his description, but I don't think they took it too seriously."
"Geoffry, did you share this with any of the staff here, or your fellow artists?"
"I may have."
"Can you give me a description of the man?" he asked.
None of this information had made it into the police reports.
"I remember him as short, black hair with a mustache, and average weight. He spoke English well enough, but he definitely had a heavy Spanish accent."
"How old do you guess he was?"
"Mid-thirties, I'd say."
"Thank you, Geoffry. You've been very helpful. Can you write the name of that bodega down for me and its address if you can remember?"
Geoffry jotted some information down on a piece of paper and handed it to Duncan.
"One more thing. Did you have any personal contact with Ella Peña? If so, what did you think of her?"
"No, I can't say I had much contact with her. She stayed in the kitchen I assume, unlike Chef Mondo, who is always prowling around looking for compliments. She seemed pleasant enough, though. She'd smile if she passed you in the corridor and greet you with Hola."
"Thanks again. Please let me know if you remember anything else."
Duncan and Angus headed for the door.
"Oh, I forgot this," Geoffry said, stopping Duncan in his tracks. "The man in the bodega said his name was Miguel."
Back in Duncan's office Angus said, "I don't trust the paper boy. Any normal person would have run screaming to the police after hearing what that chap said to him in the bar."
Mystery: The Cook's Comeuppance: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 3) Page 9
