Chapter Three
Still shaken by the threatening phone call Russell had received the day before, Ellie knew that there was nothing she could do but continue with her life as normal. The pizzeria wouldn't run itself, and the night before, her husband had admitted to her that no one at the sheriff’s department had been able to help. The number had been untraceable, and the voice had been so distorted that there was no way Russell could tell if he knew the person or not.
She may not have chosen to spend all day hiding in her house, but that didn’t mean that Ellie wasn’t on guard. Russell seemed to be taking the threat seriously, so she would too. She made a point of double checking all the locks on the doors and windows before she left for work, and kept an eye on the rear view mirror in case someone was following her. She knew that Russell had told Shannon and James to do the same.
She felt a shiver go down her spine as she saw a car that had started following her a few minutes ago turn down the same street that she had just turned on, then a rush of relief as it turned into a driveway. She was nearly to the pizzeria, and she knew that she would feel much better when she was safely inside.
Maybe I should have stayed at home today, she thought. If her grandmother had been there, she would have, but Nonna had long standing plans to go to a play down in Portland with her friends, and they had all agreed that it was probably safest if she was out of town for the day. Russell had told Ellie that he didn’t think her grandmother was very much at risk. If someone wanted to hurt him, they were more likely to target his wife or his brother; the people he was closest to. Ellie wasn’t sure whether she should be reassured or terrified.
She relaxed a little bit as she pulled into the pizzeria's parking lot. Papa Pacelli's had been in her family for decades. Her grandfather had opened the restaurant years ago after his retirement from a lifetime of work at the local paper mill. With homemade crust and a secret sauce recipe, the pizza place had become an immediate hit. Over twenty years later, it was still a town favorite.
Ellie had had the management of the restaurant thrust upon her when she first moved to Kittiport. Fresh out of an office job that she had spent years pretending to love, she had no idea how to run a restaurant, much less turn a slowly failing business back into the success that it had once been.
It had taken her a while, but at last she had been able to identify the problem and had fired the person responsible for sabotaging the pizzeria. Over the course of the next few months, she had fallen in love with the little restaurant, and somehow, without ever really making a decision at all, Kittiport had become her home.
Now, a couple of years later, she knew that she’d never been happier, even with this new threat to her and her family’s lives. She had opened a second pizzeria down in Florida not long ago, which was already thriving, and her marriage to Russell had been every bit as perfect as she had hoped it would be.
If whoever called in the threat was serious, they had better watch out, she thought. Russell and I both love our family, and if someone hurts any one of us, they will be sorry.
As she parked her car, she realized suddenly why she didn't feel more frightened. It wasn't that she wasn't concerned for her safety or for the safety of those that she loved, it was that the fear wasn't taking over. She was more angry than anything; angry that someone would dare to threaten her family, and angry that they had used her husband's job to do it. She knew without a doubt that anyone who didn't want her husband to become sheriff had to be up to no good, because he was the best sheriff she had ever seen. Without Russell watching over the town, Kittiport would be much worse off.
With another quick look around the parking lot, just in case someone was getting ready to jump out at her from between parked vehicles, she got out of the car and made her way up to the door. Jacob had already arrived and was well into the opening routine. The lights were on inside, and she smelled the fresh, sharp scent of the cleaner they used on the tables and on the floor. One thing that she prided her restaurant on was cleanliness. She didn't stand for sticky tables and empty napkin holders, and as a result, her employees were wonderful at staying on top of those sorts of things.
Taking a look around the dining area, she gave a satisfied nod and went into the kitchen where she found Jacob already beginning to make the day’s batch of pizza sauce.
“Hey, Ms. P.,” Jacob said, nodding in her direction, but not taking his attention off of the fresh tomatoes on the cutting board in front of him.
Even though she had changed her name after she and Russell had gotten married, her employees still called her Ms. P. It was a difficult habit to break, and she didn't mind at all. Her maiden name was still the one on the restaurant’s sign, after all. It was less confusing to everyone if she kept being Ms. P. here at work, and was Mrs. Ward everywhere else.
“Good morning, Jacob,” she said. “You must have gotten here early. Everything looks great.”
“I had to drop my brother off at the bus station,” he explained. “It didn't make any sense to go back home after that, just to leave again in half an hour, so I headed here instead.”
“Well, you got a lot done in that extra half hour,” she said. “You hardly left me anything to do.”
While he worked on the sauce, she decided to get a head start on the pizzas that they would sell by the slice. She had been leery at first about selling precooked pizzas by the slice; she knew that pizza was always best when it was fresh, and she didn't want Papa Pacelli's reputation to suffer if people didn't like their pizza as much after it had been sitting under the warmers for a couple of hours, but it had been a good move. It took a good twenty minutes to cook most pizzas fresh, so selling pizza by the slice meant that people who had only a short lunch break, or people that wanted to stop in on their way to somewhere else could pick up food at Papa Pacelli's instead of going to a fast food joint.
They always had three different types of pizza ready to sell by the slice; four cheese, pepperoni, and whatever their weekly special was. This week, the special was a vegetarian medley pizza with white sauce and asiago cheese. Since Jacob was busy making the marinara sauce, she got started on the white sauce, knowing that they would probably need it for more than just the special.
Over the past couple of years, Papa Pacelli's menu had grown from a relatively simple small-town pizzeria's menu to something that had gotten so expansive that sometimes she wondered how they managed to keep everything in stock. They always offered three different types of sauces; their homemade marinara sauce, their white sauce, and homemade barbecue sauce. In addition to all of that, they usually had one or two other sauces available depending on what the weekly special was. The Asian teriyaki sauce was an especially popular one, and she was thinking of adding it to their list of always available sauces.
In addition to the sauces, they always had a large assortment of cheeses on hand, plus a medley of vegetables and meats. They served pizzas with everything from chicken to hamburger to lobster on them.
It was a lot of work, both for her and for her employees, but she felt that it was worth it. She knew that their selection of toppings and crusts – in addition to the thin crust, classic round, and deep dish pizzas, they also offered a low-carb cauliflower crust and a cheese stuffed crust – had yet to be beat anywhere in the area. They had customers coming in from as far as an hour away just to order their favorite pizza. It kept them busy, but for the restaurant, busy was good.
By eleven o'clock, which was when the restaurant opened for the day, there were three perfect pizzas sitting under the warmer, pre-sliced and ready to be served at a moment’s notice. The marinara sauce and the white sauce had been made and were ready for whatever orders came their way. She had chopped up most of the common ingredients, and the ovens were preheated. She and Jacob exchanged a look, and she knew they both felt satisfied with their work.
Feeling good, with thoughts of the threat that Russell had received pushed far to the back of her mind, she flicked the switch that turned
on the open sign and went out front to unlock the door. It was going to be a busy day – beautiful summer days like this always were – but she was looking forward to it.
Chapter Four
One pulled pork pizza with barbecue sauce coming right up,” Ellie said. She handed the receipt to her customer, watched as they grabbed a drink out of the refrigerator, then slipped into the kitchen to tell Jacob the order.
Once he had started on the pulled pork barbecue pizza, she grabbed the pizza that was just coming out of the oven and placed it on a serving tray. This one was an eight inch personal cheese pizza, just the perfect size for one of her favorite customers.
Bearing the pizza platter, she exited the kitchen and walked into the dining area, making a beeline for the table closest to the bathrooms, where two of her regulars sat.
“Here you go, Juliet,” she said to the younger of the two, a small girl of about five. “And Joselyn, your pizza will be out in just a minute. The deep dish pizzas take a little bit longer to cook.”
“Not a problem,” Joselyn said, smiling at her. “Thanks for bringing Juliet’s out first. She was adamant that she was starving, though I happen to know that she ate a plate full of waffles for breakfast.”
Ellie smiled, glad to see the little girl digging into the pizza with relish. There was a lot that she loved about her job, but she had to say that her relationship with her regulars was one of her favorite things. She had gotten to know many people in town quite well just through the pizzeria. She loved being able to greet her customers by name, and was always touched when they remembered the small things like her birthday, or the pizzeria's anniversary.
“It looks like I've got another customer ready to order, but I'll try to find a few minutes to come and talk to the two of you before you leave,” she said. “It's always great to see you.”
The man waiting at the register was another regular, a man named Dillon Forrest, who often stopped by to grab a bite of food after he got done at work. She was especially flattered that he chose to go to Papa Pacelli’s, since his uncle owned a pizzeria in the next town over.
“What can I get you today?” she asked.
“I’ll take two slices of the special. I’ve got someone joining me, so I’ll be eating in today. No need for a box.”
“Coming right up,” she said, sending his order to the kitchen and taking his payment. By the time his card had been run through the machine, his order was ready and she handed him the plate with two slices of pizza on it. After he sat down, she walked around the room, making note of the tables that needed new napkins or would need extra cleanup when the guests left. Someone had spilled an entire container of pepper on the floor, and she made a mental note that she would have to get the broom to clean that up.
She was at one of the tables by the window, chatting with one of her favorite regulars – an older man named Edmund who came in every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday without fail – when she saw someone she recognized from a photo in the paper walk through the doors. It was Benjy Jameson, the third candidate for sheriff. He was a perpetually nervous looking man, and she didn’t think his chances were good. Not when he was running against Russell. She watched as he joined Dillon at his table without ordering anything, then turned her attention back to Edmund.
The older man always ordered the same thing, except for once a week when he would try the weekly special. No matter how much he seemed to like it, he never failed to order the sausage and green pepper pizza the other two days of the week.
“Hey, Edmund,” she said. “How is the pizza?”
“Perfect as always,” he said, nodding at her. “Your grandfather would be proud.”
This was their exchange every week. The predictability was soothing.
“I just wish he was here to see it,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”
“A bottle of water for the road, if you would,” he said. He took a dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to her. This, too, was the same as it was every week. He waited until the end of his meal to buy his bottle of water, so it would still be cold for his walk home.
“I'll get that for you,” she said, smiling at him. Customers like him were one of the reasons that she was glad that her home was in Kittiport. She loved the small town life. She was sure that Linda had close to the same bond with some of her customers, but somehow, she felt that even though the bond might be similar, it just wouldn't be the same in such a big city as Miami.
She was just turning to go put the dollar in the cash register and get the bottle of water out of the fridge when she heard a scraping sound behind her. She turned in time to see Edmund moving toward her. He put out his arms and shoved her to the side. Stunned, she stumbled a couple of steps, then fell, landing heavily on her hip and elbow. The breath was knocked out of her, and she didn't have time to regain it before the world seemed to explode around her as the glass window shattered and something huge burst into the restaurant.
After the crash came silence, besides the tingling sound of broken glass as it fell to the floor. Still trying to catch her breath from the fall, Ellie struggled to sit up, shaking her head to remove the shattered glass from her hair and opening her eyes, blinking in confusion at the site in front of her. A car had slammed through the window of the front of the restaurant, its nose coming to rest just where she had been standing moments before.
The shocked silence was beginning to fade. She heard the sound of someone start crying. There was a short, sharp scream. Managing to take a shallow breath, she put her hand down in order to prop herself up, then winced and withdrew it. She stared at the shard of broken glass embedded in her palm. Without thinking, she picked it out and tossed it back on the floor. Being more careful this time, she made her way to her feet, standing unsteadily as she looked around.
Someone drove into the pizzeria, she thought. The shock of the suddenness of the accident, combined with having the wind knocked out of her and the pain of falling, made it difficult for her brain to catch up with what was going on.
Suddenly Edmund’s seeming attack made sense. He must have spotted the car coming. He had known it was going to ram the pizzeria and had pushed her to get her out of harm’s way.
She looked around, wanting to thank him, and realized with a jolt of horror that he must have been standing right where the car ended up.
She moved forward, her shoes crunching over the broken glass. She heard beeping, and realized that someone must be on the phone. She hoped they were calling the police. She knew that Russell would have a heart attack when he saw what had happened.
“Edmund?” she called out. The pizzeria went silent again. She didn't hear anyone respond. She moved closer to the car. Suddenly, Jacob was at her shoulder.
“You should sit down, Ms. P.,” he said.
“No, I need to find Edmund. He pushed me out of the way. He might have saved my life. I want to make sure he's all right.”
Jacob's face was pale. He stepped back, letting her move forward. She made her way around the front of the car, with its crumpled hood. The engine was ticking, and she could smell the chemical scent of burnt coolant.
She found Edmund next to the car. He was lying on his back, and one of his legs was bent at an odd angle. She saw a trickle of blood coming from his head. He must have been thrown into one of the tables when the car hit him, she thought. She knelt down next to him, already searching for a pulse. She felt nauseous when she couldn't find anything. He was completely unresponsive; his eyes open only a slit as he stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Is he alive?” someone called out behind her.
She took a shuddering breath, but couldn't respond. She hadn't given up yet, and pressed her fingers to his throat, searching for any hint that his heart was still beating.
“Hey!” Jacob shouted. She looked up in time to see the driver’s door open as the driver of the car extracted himself from the airbag and stumbled out. Jacob reached toward him, concern on his face, but the driver shook h
im off. Ellie watched, shocked, as he climbed through the broken window and began to move away from the pizzeria. At first, he staggered, but he quickly regained his equilibrium and began to run away down the street. Ellie heard sirens now, and knew that the police were on their way. With luck, an ambulance would be there soon, as well.
Jacob was staring after the man who had fled, his face more puzzled than anything.
The driver must be confused, she thought. Surely no one would drive into the pizzeria on purpose. They could have killed any number of people. Suddenly she felt her hands go cold. The threat, she thought. The call that Russell had received the night before. Was this that person's work? Was the young man who had just fled the scene the person who had made the threat? Was it possible that he had purposely run his vehicle into the pizzeria?
Pork, Pizza and Murder Page 2
