The Case of Italian Indigestion

by B R Snow

  “Pharmaceutical company?” Josie said, raising an eyebrow. “Another one of those scary things you were talking about?”

  “You don’t want to know,” Betty said. “And even if you did, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “The next time you’re thinking about going to cooking school to catch up with old friends, remind me to hit you with your bat,” Josie said to Chef Claire.

  “No argument from me,” Chef Claire said, shaking her head. “This is the sort of stuff you deal with on a regular basis?”

  “It is. It’s hard work, sometimes depressing, and often leaves me baffled about the state of the human condition. But I still love it. And when you boil it all down, I suppose there are worse ways to make a living,” Betty said.

  “Name two,” Josie deadpanned, then grinned.

  “Mortician and Port-A-Potty cleaner,” Betty said without hesitation. “I’ve got a whole list. Should I go on?”

  “No,” Josie said, laughing. “I take your point.”

  “So, what do we do?” Chef Claire said.

  “You don’t do anything,” Betty said. “The only reason we had this conversation was because Agent Tompkins wanted you to know. Like I said, he’s a bit concerned about your safety.”

  “Aren’t you?” Josie said.

  “Not yet,” Betty said. “But I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  “Do you think Marco and Rosa are involved in any of this?” Chef Claire said.

  “Probably only to the extent Georgio is going to need his three million back,” Betty said.

  “Marco said he was looking for another investor because Rosa isn’t comfortable having Georgio as a partner,” Chef Claire said.

  “I’m sure she’s not,” Betty said. “And things are getting worse for Georgio.”

  “Georgio is also having money problems?” Chef Claire said.

  “They’re just starting,” Betty said, unable to hide her grin.

  “What are you guys up to?” Josie said.

  “You’re messing with his bank accounts, aren’t you?” Chef Claire said.

  “I can’t talk about it,” Betty said. “Let’s just say Georgio will soon be looking for ways to get his hands on some cash in a hurry.”

  “You set all this up for the week, didn’t you?” Chef Claire said.

  “Again, I can’t talk about it. But I can say we definitely wanted to take advantage of the fact Georgio and Emerson were both going to be here for the week.”

  “What are you going to do now that Emerson is dead?” Josie said.

  “My job.”

  “Well, I kinda figured,” Josie said, shaking her head.

  “I’m going to keep my eyes and ears open, see what I can figure out, and take whatever action seems most appropriate,” Betty said.

  “And try not to get scared in the process?” Josie said.

  “You’re a quick study,” Betty said, raising her glass in salute. “I think we should have one more glass of wine. Drinks are on Uncle Sam tonight.”

  “It’s the least he can do,” Josie said, tossing back what was left in her glass.

  “No,” Betty said, shaking her head. “Trust me, he can do a lot less.”

  Chapter 23

  Marco was halfway through his introductory lesson on Italian soups and stews when Josie leaned over and whispered to Chef Claire.

  “He’s just going through the motions.”

  “Yeah, he’s totally distracted,” Chef Claire whispered back. “I guess we can’t blame him, huh?”

  Josie slowly nodded and refocused on Marco’s presentation. A few minutes, he placed the large knife he was using to demonstrate different ways to slice and dice a wide variety of vegetables on the kitchen island. He looked around the class then forced a sad smile.

  “I’m sorry,” Marco said. “If I was sitting through this lesson, I’m sure I’d find all of it incredibly basic and boring.”

  “No, it’s good stuff,” Betty said. “You make it look so easy.”

  “Thanks, Betty,” Marco said, laughing. “Fortunately for all of you, I’m done talking.” He removed a small stack of index cards from his shirt pocket and casually flipped through them. “Rosa and I thought we’d do something a bit different today. You’ll all be assigned a different dish. A lot of the prep techniques will be the same, but we didn’t think anybody would want to eat a half dozen versions of the same dish for lunch.”

  “Lunch?” Lance said. “We’re not cooking for dinner?”

  “No,” Marco said. “Part of today’s lesson is to demonstrate you don’t need to slave over a stove all day to make great Italian food.”

  “So, what are making this afternoon?” Lance said.

  “We’ll be doing a fridge clean,” Marco said. “You’ll be making a dish of your choice from whatever leftovers you find. We’ll mix those dishes in tonight with a few of the soups and stews you make this morning. In your course materials, you’ll find a whole list of recipes to choose from. And Rosa and I will be working with you on an individual basis and answering any questions you might have.”

  “Leftovers,” Chef Claire whispered as she leaned in close to Josie. “Probably somewhat of a foreign concept to you, huh?”

  “Funny.”

  He passed the index cards out and waited until everyone had a chance to review their assigned dish.

  “You’ll find all the ingredients you need in the fridge and pantry,” Marco said. “We’ll be eating lunch around one so keep that in mind as you’re working on your dish. We’ll put some snacks out around ten, but feel free to take breaks whenever you like.” He glanced around again waiting to see if there were questions. “Okay, let’s get started. Have fun.”

  “What did you get?” Chef Claire said, glancing at Josie’s card.

  “Italian wedding soup,” Josie said. “One of my favorites. It looks pretty easy.”

  “You should get started,” Chef Claire said.

  “The recipe says it only takes an hour,” Josie said. “What’s the hurry?”

  “Read the recipe again.”

  “Crap. It’s only an hour after the chicken stock is made,” Josie said, frowning. “I suppose I should make a stock from scratch, right?”

  “It’s your call,” Chef Claire deadpanned. “But I don’t think you needed to fly to Italy to learn how to open a can.”

  “Yeah. Good point.”

  Marco, standing nearby, laughed and pointed at one of the refrigerators.

  “You’ll find lots of carcass bones in the fridge,” he said.

  “Why is my card blank, Marco?” Chef Claire said.

  “I thought you might want to work with me making bread,” Marco said. “I searched high and low for something to challenge you, but couldn’t come up with anything.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got that one covered. Given the climate back home, we serve a lot of soups and stews at the restaurant,” Chef Claire said. “But my bread needs work.”

  “Then you’ve come to the right place,” Marco said, laughing. “When are you making your dough?”

  “Early in the morning,” Chef Claire said. “It rises for about four hours.”

  “That’s one of your problems,” Marco said, pointing to a large lump on the counter covered by a towel. “Try making your dough the day before and letting it rise overnight.”

  “How long do you let your dough go?”

  “Twelve hours minimum,” Marco said.

  “Really?” Chef Claire said. “I never realized it took so much time.”

  “It doesn’t,” Marco said. “And you can certainly make great bread a lot faster. But you said you wanted to make world-class rustic bread.”

  “Lead the way,” Chef Claire said, laughing as she spread her arms wide.

  “I’ll show you how to start the dough in a minute,” Marco said, heading for the counter. He returned carrying the toweled object and set it down in front of them. He pulled the towel back like a magician performing a reveal. “But first, let’s g
et this one going on its second rise.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Chef Claire said, gently probing the dough with her fingers. “How long does it need?”

  “An hour or two,” Marco said. “It should rise noticeably. You’ll know it when you see it.”

  “Got it,” Chef Claire said.

  “Here’s the next tip,” he said. “Don’t knead it. Gently fold it into a ball. Like this.”

  Chef Claire watched as he assembled the dough into shape.

  “Be gentle,” he said. “I call it the lover’s touch.”

  “If you say so,” Chef Claire said, laughing.

  “I’ve meant to ask. How are things going on the personal front?”

  “I think I’m in a slump,” Chef Claire said.

  “I find that hard to believe,” Marco said. “You’ve just been spending too much time at work.”

  “There’s no doubt about it, Marco.”

  “Hang in there. It’s going to happen for you.”

  “Thanks, Marco. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m afraid it’s going to take a lot more than a great loaf of bread to solve our problems,” he said, setting the dough aside and wiping his hands on a dish towel. “I need to make the rounds and check in on everybody. I’ll meet you back here in about twenty minutes.”

  “Okay,” Chef Claire said. “I better go check in on Josie to see what sort of mess she’s making.”

  “I’ve been watching her the past few days,” Marco said. “She’s a good cook.”

  “She is,” Chef Claire said. “Just not a tidy one.”

  “Yes, I noticed,” he said, laughing.

  Chef Claire headed for Josie who was using tongs to maneuver a chicken carcass and assorted vegetables in a large pot.

  “Smells great,” Chef Claire said.

  “Are you sure this is right?” Josie said, glancing over her shoulder. “The pot is snapping at me.”

  “You want it on high heat for a few more minutes,” Chef Claire said, peering down into the pot. “It needs a bit more color. Just keep stirring it around.”

  “If you say so,” Josie said, working the tongs through the pot. “I just hope Marco doesn’t mind me filling up his kitchen with smoke.”

  “You’re cooking,” Chef Claire said. “If you don’t get some smoke, you ain’t trying.”

  “Well, thank you, Ms. Childs,” she said, pushing her hair back from her face. “What are you making?”

  “Bread.”

  “Slacker,” Josie deadpanned. “How’s Marco doing?”

  “Not well.”

  “Do you think we should tell him about Betty?”

  “No,” Chef Claire said. “I think she should tell him.”

  “And if she refuses?” Josie said, glancing over her shoulder.

  “I would take it as a clue Marco is also a target of the investigation.”

  “Great minds think alike,” Josie said.

  “Okay, that’s good,” Chef Claire said, taking another look into the pot. “Lower the heat and cover it with water. It needs to simmer for at least an hour.”

  “Got it,” Josie said. “I’ll get started on the rest of the prep work for the soup.”

  “You’ve got plenty of time,” Chef Claire said. “I thought we’d give Suzy a call.”

  “Good idea,” Josie said, sliding the lid over the pot. She wiped her hands then gestured toward the door. “The veranda awaits.”

  They headed for the patio doors and were buffeted by a stiff breeze as soon as they stepped outside. Chef Claire glanced around then pointed at an area protected from the wind. They sat down, and Josie made the call and set the phone on the armrest.

  “This is Suzy.”

  “Hey, it’s us,” Josie said.

  “Sorry, I didn’t even check the number,” Suzy said. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s good,” Josie said. “We’re making soups and stews today.”

  “Yum. I was thinking about making something like that as well. It’s cold here today.”

  “How are the dogs?” Chef Claire said.

  “They’re great,” Suzy said. “And they still haven’t mentioned disowning you guys.”

  “Give Captain a big hug for me.”

  “Ditto,” Chef Claire said.

  “Will do. How’s the other situation going?”

  “I think the best word to describe it is developing,” Josie said.

  “Developing how?” Suzy said, immediately concerned.

  “Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Josie said. “But it’s a weird situation that got a lot weirder last night.”

  “Really? Okay, this I gotta hear.”

  “We found out who the undercover agent is,” Chef Claire said.

  “The surfer dude?”

  “No, it’s Betty,” Josie said.

  “Betty from Ottawa?”

  “Yeah,” Josie said.

  “How the heck did you figure it out?”

  “She told us,” Chef Claire said.

  “What? Why would she…hang on,” Suzy said, her concern rapidly ratcheting. “Agent Tompkins told her to tell you, didn’t he?”

  “How the heck did you know?” Josie said, glancing at Chef Claire.

  “He’s worried about your safety, isn’t he?”

  “We’re fine,” Chef Claire said. “Betty said they wanted us to know just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  “Relax, Suzy,” Josie said. “Think of it as an insurance policy. We’re totally safe.”

  “My advice is to have a bowl of soup and then get the heck out of there,” Suzy said.

  “The school ends tomorrow,” Chef Claire said. “And we’re getting on the road as soon as it does.”

  “Okay. But stick close to Betty tonight,” Suzy said, then paused before continuing. “Is she working from the idea this guy Georgio is behind all of this?”

  “I don’t think she’s looking at him for the murders, but he’s definitely in her sights as the catalyst,” Chef Claire said. “There’s no doubt he’s dirty.”

  “Stay out of his way,” Suzy said. “What about Natalie?”

  “She seems to be telling the truth about why she’s here,” Josie said.

  “Trying to rekindle the relationship with good food and wine?” Suzy said.

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “We don’t think she’s involved in any of this.”

  “I still find it hard to believe,” Suzy said. “Have you seen her this morning?”

  “Of course,” Chef Claire said. “Counting us, we’re down to eight students.”

  “What’s she doing?”

  “She’s making Pasta e Fagioli,” Chef Claire said.

  “And she’s not acting strange?”

  “We’re talking about Natalie here, Suzy,” Josie said. “Of course, she’s acting strange.”

  “You know what I mean. What about Betty? How does she seem today?”

  “The same as she always does,” Josie said. “But I imagine it’s how they’re trained.”

  “I wish I were there,” Suzy said.

  “I’m sure you do,” Josie said, laughing. “But your instructions are to take it easy and get your rest. By the way, how are you doing?”

  “I’m getting fat,” Suzy said. “How do you think I’m doing?”

  “There seems to be a lot of that going around,” Chef Claire deadpanned.

  “Shut it.”

  “What?” Suzy said.

  “Chef Claire is being a pain,” Josie said.

  “She’s put on five pounds since we’ve been here,” Chef Claire said.

  “Why don’t you say it a little louder?” Josie said. “I don’t think the Swiss could hear you.”

  “Really?” Suzy said, then laughed. “Oh, my. How the mighty have fallen. It’s about time.”

  “No kidding,” Chef Claire said.

  “New topic, please,” Josie snapped.

  “We need to get back to class,” Chef Claire said.

 
“Yeah, I need to get going, too. My mom’s making breakfast.”

  “Give her a hug from us,” Chef Claire said.

  “Will do. And make sure you give me an update if anything else happens.”

  “You got it,” Chef Claire said.

  “And Josie?”

  “What?”

  “Try not to eat too much.”

  “Hey, I’m not the only one in the house getting fat.”

  “No, but at least I have a good excuse.”

  Chapter 24

  Josie and Chef Claire both nodded when the server offered the next bowl of soup. They ate a spoonful and swallowed in tandem. Josie slowly reached for her napkin and wiped her mouth before taking a long sip of water. She again covered her mouth with the napkin and snuck a quick look at Chef Claire.

  “Oh, my God,” Josie whispered. “What do we do now?”

  “We eat just enough not to hurt his feelings,” Chef Claire said, swallowing hard.

  “Use your napkin.”

  “Did I spill?”

  “No, but the napkin will hide the look on your face.”

  “It’s so salty,” Chef Claire said, slowly wiping her mouth.

  “A salt lick is salty,” Josie whispered, then had a thought. “This must be the stuff salt licks are made from.”

  “Maybe he developed a taste for it over the years,” Chef Claire said, staring down at the steaming bowl.

  “What?”

  “From spending all that time in the ocean.”

  “Funny,” Josie said, tentatively dipping her spoon in the soup.

  “How do you like it?” Lance said, glancing across the table.

  “It’s quite unique, Lance,” Chef Claire said, forcing down another spoonful.

  “Gee, thanks, Chef Claire,” Lance said, grinning at her. “It means a lot coming from you.”

  “Minestrone, right?”

  “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “At least my version of it.”

  “I’m getting a hint of salami,” Chef Claire said.

  “A hint?” Josie whispered. “We must have a different definition.”