From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) (20 page)

“Did Vincenzo find out before he died that you’ve been seeing Leo all these years?”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but I think so. Little things he said here and there unnerved me. But I can’t be certain. I hate him for what he cost me that I can never get back.”

“You love Marco.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I do. He’s gentle and kind and loving. And I’m going to marry him.” Stella shot her a defiant look. “We’re leaving town to start over.”

“You can’t leave now, Stella. Or have you cleared this with the police?”

Stella shook her head. “It’s not any of their affair.”

“It is if you’re a suspect.”

“I didn’t kill Vincenzo.” Stella sounded angry again.

“I’m not saying you did, but if you leave now it makes you look guilty. You don’t want to start your new life with this hanging over your head.”

Stella looked sad and tired--worn down. She wore a plain blue shirtwaist dress with a faded cardigan tied over her shoulders. Not a bit of makeup or jewelry either. She was the opposite of Maria Acino in every way that Sophia could imagine. Vincenzo’s two wives were like day and night.

“Did you know that Vincenzo was married before he married you?”

The shock on Stella’s face answered Sophia’s question.

“That’s not possible.” Stella’s voice shook.

“We’ve seen a marriage certificate.” Well, actually Angelo had, but Sophia didn’t need to go into details. She watched the other woman digest the news. And it was news. She was now certain that Stella hadn’t known.

“No, no.” Stella stood and paced along the sidewalk in front of the bench. She appeared to have trouble putting her whirlwind of emotions into coherent words. “Why didn’t he tell me he was a widower?”

Sophia hesitated. She needed to leave Stella in the dark for a few days more. She wasn’t ready for Maria to find out that they knew about her marriage to Vincenzo.

“I can’t answer that now. I need you to keep it quiet for a few days while I check into a lead.”

“Yes, I guess so,” Stella said. “I don’t want to think about it. The poor woman is dead and buried, God rest her soul. She deserves peace after having to live with Vincenzo.”

“Stella, promise me two things. Don’t mention Vincenzo’s first marriage to anyone just yet. And you and Marco can’t leave town now. Give my brother and I a few more days to work all this out.” She stood. “If you leave now, you’re starting your new life off on the wrong foot.”

“I need to get on with my life.”

“Come on, Stella. You know it looks suspicious if you leave before the murderer is caught. And if the police have to waste time finding you and Marco, it’s time they’re taking away from looking for the real murderer.”

“So you believe that I didn’t kill Vincenzo?”

“I do. Although God knows I would have been tempted myself in your shoes. Just promise me you won’t go. Let me have just a little more time so we can solve the case and you can put this behind you forever.”

Stella nodded. “I’ll stay. But only for a few days. I’ve missed years with my son, and I can’t wait much longer.”

A small detail was nagging at Sophia. “Stella, has Maria Acino been to see you since the murder?”

“No, why should she?”

Sophia remembered how anxious Maria had been at morning after the murder, waylaying her after Mass to deny that her argument with Vincenzo had been important. Perhaps she’d done the same to Stella.

“If she knows that you saw her argue with Vincenzo that night, I thought she might have come to see you.”

Stella shook her head. “She didn’t know it was me. At least I don’t think she saw me. I was standing in the recessed pantry area and Vincenzo was standing in the kitchen. I was trapped until Maria distracted him. When he turned around to yell at her I ran out the back door.”

So Stella claimed to overhear an argument between her husband and Maria. Mooch said that he’d heard Eugene and Vincenzo argue. But which argument came first? Which was worse?

“Just one more question, Stella. What about selling your share of the restaurant so that you and Marco and Leo have money to start over? Won’t that take some time?”

Stella shrugged. “Eugene told me not to worry about it.”

This struck Sophia as an odd comment for a man to make to his business partner’s widow.

“What exactly did he say?”

Stella thought for a moment. “He said not to worry. Nothing was going to change and the money was going to keep coming in.”

Sophia added this to her mental list of things to ask Eugene about. Why was he being so cryptic with Stella about her half of the restaurant?

“Thank you for trusting me with the truth about Leo. A few days more to find the killer is all we need, I promise.” She linked her arm through Stella’s, all earlier animosity between them now gone. “Let’s go watch our boys play ball.”

“So what exactly do you want me to do?”

Sophia felt a rush of gratitude for Andrea’s willingness to help her. The ball game over, they walked toward Vincenzo’s Ristorante. Actually now Eugene’s Ristorante. The new name was going to take some getting used to.

“What do you think of Eugene Gallo?”

“Eugene?” Andrea cocked his head and thought for a moment. “I don’t know. That question is above my pay grade. Why? You think he did it?”

Sophia sighed. “I just can’t pinpoint what it is, but something about him unnerves me.”

The early evening breeze was a delicious treat after a day spent in the sunshine. She stepped aside while a woman with a baby carriage passed them. “The day before Vincenzo was murdered I was at the restaurant to go over the menu. Eugene and I were talking when Vincenzo burst in, insanely angry about something.”

“That can’t be the first time Eugene ever saw Vincenzo angry. They worked together. Eugene was probably treated to all sorts of fireworks displays, know what I mean?”

She did. To know Vincenzo was to know his temper.

“Tell me again how you want me to help here,” Andrea asked.

“I heard from Rudy Zangari that Eugene’s looking for an assistant in the kitchen. So I asked Rudy to put in a good word for you. I was hoping against hope that you’d be willing to apply for the job.” Sophia smiled apologetically. “I know this isn’t what you were looking for, but maybe you could stand it for a little while. Just long enough to see what you can learn about Eugene, or anything that might give us some sort of a clue.”

Andrea nodded. “I’d be happy to.”

“You’re sweet to say that, but you can’t really be happy about it--”

“I am, actually,” Andrea interrupted her. “Maybe I can learn a thing or two hanging around a kitchen.”

Sophia laughed. “You want to learn to cook?”

“Why not?”

He sounded surprisingly earnest. Where had this sudden interest in the culinary arts came from?

“Sophia, I can’t tell you how many miserable, vile k-rations we had to eat during the war.” Andrea grimaced. “I almost welcomed the taste of Pacific sand in my food because it made what they tried to pass off as dinner more palatable.”

His face took on a faraway look. Sophia stood quietly beside him, sensing that he wanted to be heard.

“It was hell being so far away from home, Soph. Meal times were the worst, because I was used to sitting down and eating every night with the family. I missed you and Ang, Grandpa’s lectures, and I especially missed Francesca.” He was a quiet a moment. “We had plentiful garlic bread, as much meat as a man could want, bowls of pasta, good wine. We had each other. We had it all and we didn’t know it. So, while I was trying to choke down the slop they were feeding us, I distracted myself from the misery of it all by imagining what I could make if I had actual food to work with.”

“I had no idea how awful it was Andrea,” Sophia said, guilty for the times she’d complained about the food rationing at home.

He smiled at her. “If I have to work in either a kitchen or a factory, I’d like to try the kitchen.”

“What about going to college? The GI Bill can help you pay for classes.”

Andrea pulled a face. “No school for me. I want a job so I can save some money and marry a nice girl. Funny, huh? I might end up in the kitchen and you out on the streets catching killers.” He shook his head ruefully.

“You’ll look adorable in an apron, Andrea. You’ve got that much going for you.” She loved teasing him, always had. She linked her arm through his. “Now let’s go see if we can find Eugene.”

***

Locating Eugene turned out to be no problem at all. No sooner did they open the front door and enter the empty restaurant than Eugene poked his out of the kitchen. His welcoming smile momentarily faltered when he saw it was her.

“Hello, Miss Mancini.” He looked questioningly at her before tentatively shaking Andrea’s outstretched hand.

Much to Sophia’s relief, Andrea launched into a monologue about his interest in learning to cook.

“Let me take you into the kitchen, Andrea, and show you around,” Eugene said. He opened the swinging door and motioned for Andrea to enter. He held out his hand to block her when Sophia tried to follow. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting here, Miss Mancini?”

She minded very much, in fact. The last thing she wanted to do was sit alone in an empty restaurant where she couldn’t hear a word of their conversation.

As soon as the kitchen door swung close behind Andrea and Eugene, she slipped in after them. “Forgive me, but I’m nervous waiting out in the restaurant alone.” She smiled apologetically.

“Nervous? Aren’t you and your brother investigating Vincenzo’s murder?” Eugene asked.

“We were.” Out of the corner of her eye, Sophia saw Andrea’s look of surprise at the use of the past tense. Fortunately he remained silent. “But we’re not any longer,” she continued. “My brother is busy with some background investigations and security work. Murder was just too frightening and awful for me.”

She shuddered, which was perhaps pouring it on a bit thick, but Eugene responded to her helpless female act. He pulled a stool out and offered her a seat, his manner slightly more solicitous than suspicious now.

“Of course, of course,” he commiserated. “It’s an ugly business best put behind us and not spoken of again.”

“How can you stand working in here, Eugene? I don’t think I could bear it.” Sophia wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to look as innocent and frightened as she could, all the while ignoring Andrea’s amused expression.

“Life goes on, Miss Mancini. We certainly learned that during the war, didn’t we?” He turned to include Andrea in the conversation.

“We certainly did.” Andrea looked around the kitchen. “You’d never know anything so gruesome had happened here so recently.”

He was right. Sophia could still easily visualize Vincenzo’s lifeless body on the kitchen floor though.

“We’re back in business, certainly,” Eugene said after a long moment. He picked up two menus from the counter and handed one to each of them. “Vincenzo’s is merely a memory. Eugene’s Ristorante is what we focus on now. Tell me what you think of the new selections.”

Sophia and Andrea flipped through the menus. They appeared to be twice as long and extensive as the previous one. How on earth had Eugene come up with something this detailed in such a short time?

“Delicious. Good heavens, Eugene. Just reading this makes me famished.” She looked over the menu at him. “I imagine this had to be in the works long before the murder though, didn’t it? I mean, it would take months to put something this incredible together.”

Eugene looked both proud and suspicious of her question at the same time. Whatever Eugene was, he wasn’t the simple, shy, unassuming man he appeared to be. No, she’d lay bets he was a far more complex person than people thought. But was he a murderer?

“Of course these changes have been awhile in the planning.” Eugene fiddled with the corners of his apron.

“So Vincenzo worked on this menu too?” Sophia decided it was time to push Eugene a bit and see if he pushed back. “Which was his signature dish? I’m sure it’s got a place of honor on the new menu.”

Eugene frowned. “No, it’s all mine. Everything on the menu is my personal creation.”

“Vincenzo didn’t mind that you removed his favorites from the menu?”

Eugene snatched the menu from her hand. “Of course not. You know Vincenzo. All he cared about was what was good for the restaurant.”

All he cared about was what was good for Vincenzo, Sophia silently corrected him. She wasn’t buying this cooperative partnership that Eugene was peddling.

Sophia smiled. “Well, you and Vincenzo certainly managed to keep the name and other changes a well-kept secret. No one appears to have known about them. Not even Stella.”

“Poor Stella,” Eugene shook his head. “Her husband’s death has filled her with grief.”

Grief? More like relief.

“I imagine you’re going to buy her half of the restaurant?” Sophia asked.

Eugene hesitated. “Quite naturally Stella will be taken care of. We’ve already made our arrangements, but you can respect that the details are private. However, I will say I was quite pleased to see how interested Mrs. Moretti was in being a silent partner.”

Sophia wondered if Eugene was generally this out of touch with reality. When she’d spoken with Stella earlier, she’d received the opposite impression. Stella seemed to want nothing to do with the restaurant, this town, or anything that reminded her of her late husband.

“Where are your cookbooks? I’d have thought you’d have scores of them here,” Sophia asked, deciding the direct approach was best. “I’m surprised there aren’t shelves full of them, what with a menu this extensive and all.”

Eugene frowned. “With all due respect, Miss Mancini, it’s obvious you don’t have a clue how much work goes into creating a menu and dishes as exquisite as we serve at Vincenzo’s–-er, Eugene’s Ristorante.”

“You’re telling me that you don’t have a single recipe written down anywhere?” she asked.

“I tell you what, Miss Mancini, why don’t you come any day for lunch after we reopen, and I’ll prepare something special for you from scratch. Something just for you, I guarantee you’ll never taste anything better.”