Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics (18 page)

Millie spooned some of Randy’s gnocchi with shrimp in a light cream sauce onto her plate. She hoped it was more successful than his self-professed gluey usual. She examined the bowl of rigatoni she and Antonio made. They had relied heavily on the taste of the pasta choosing to only toss it with olive oil, herbs, bits of bacon, chopped tomatoes and chunks of blue cheese. It looked very attractive. She was hoping for kind criticism from her fellow students after the meal. She moved down the table making room on her plate for each of the pastas offered and then filled the rest of it with the green salad. There was no risk that there wouldn’t be enough to eat. Chef Geno and his staff appeared to be determined they each get more than their share of food.

Tonight’s dinner was a pasta buffet including all the dishes the students prepared this afternoon. The Villa provided salads, the breads and a couple of appetizers. The desserts were already sitting out and Millie could see the desserts her group had made last night were included with several new selections. That pleased her as she wanted to try the Budino again. She had wondered how it would hold up after an overnight in the refrigerator.

As Sunday dinner was meant to be more casual, multiple tables for six were set up instead of the long table. Each table was gaily set with red and white checkered tablecloths, casual dinnerware and clunky diner type glassware for their wines. It seemed like a party.

“I can’t believe how fast time is going. This class is almost over,” Millie commented joining Ruth, who was sitting at a table with Stephen, Zoe and Michael. She nodded to the waiter who was hovering, ready to pour her wine, and spread her napkin on her lap just as Randy approached.

“Room for one more?”

“Please join us,” Zoe invited graciously.

“Time does seem to be moving very fast,” Stephen said in response to Millie’s comment. “And is everyone satisfied with the content?” He looked around at the others sitting there.

“Well, I’ve got my money’s worth with that dish.” Randy pointed to the gnocchi on Millie’s plate. “Have you tried it yet?”

She shook her head and picked up a fork full. She chewed it carefully, savoring it in her mouth. “Wonderful,” she pronounced.

Randy beamed. “Hell, yes! It’s wonderful. And it was easy.”

Everyone dipped into the gnocchi.

“I love this.”

“I’m going to try this.”

“What’s the secret?”

“Quick and gentle, just as Chef Geno said. That’s how you get tender gnocchi. Who would have known?” Randy puffed up with pleasure.

Stephen looked at Ruth and Michael. “What about the two of you? Neither of you are chefs, or wannabe chefs, so has it been worth the money and time?”

Michael laughed. “What is this article number 746? Are you working tonight, Stephen?”

Stephen actually blushed. “Busted. Well, I thought a couple of the airline magazines might be interested in an article about the Retreat. You don’t mind, do you?” He looked around anxiously, but seeing no one was concerned he relaxed. “After all, I’d like to recoup some of my costs.”

Michael nodded. “Well, I’ve had a great time and we still have two days. The hardest part for me was keeping up with my group. I’m not used to working in a professional kitchen and I admit my skills with a knife are almost non-existent. But everyone has been very understanding.”

Ruth nodded. “And it’s even more amazing when you consider that Michael, Jacques and I are all in the same group so Marybeth, who is super, and Frederick have to carry the load.”

“Well, our group is coping with me, LiAnn and Millie. George and Renee are our anchors, right Millie?” Randy said. “I guess that’s why they set the teams up the way they did. Smart!”

“Oh, my God! Did you try this?” Zoe pointed to the ravioli on her plate. “I think it’s stuffed with lobster. What do you think, Stephen?”

They all tried it and discussed the stuffing as well as the sauce. Then Stephen steered the conversation back to their impressions of the Retreat.

“I love it. And except for the mouse in the flour today, everything has been super. It’s been so well planned.” Zoe was more enthusiastic than Millie remembered seeing her.

“Ugh, that mouse was ugly. Does that really happen in kitchens?” Ruth was still put off by the incident.

“Of course! That’s why they have kitchen inspections and certifications around the world. But truthfully, I was very surprised it would happen in this kitchen. The Villa is five stars. Or was! It won’t be if Zagat finds a mouse when they visit.” Stephen nodded sagely.

“I almost fell off my stool when LiAnn squealed.” Millie smiled. “I didn’t think she could move so fast.”

“I think we were all more startled by her scream than the mouse,” Randy commented, “But I happened to pass her and Sam after we were dismissed and he was sure giving her hell for something. I couldn’t tell what, because it was in Chinese.” He chuckled. “But no doubt she was in trouble and she was looking pretty chastised.”

“I can’t believe it. Sam hasn’t said word one since we started classes. I just assumed LiAnn rules in that family,” Millie said with surprise.

Randy shrugged. “I don’t know but I know when someone is getting a thorough scolding when I see it, regardless of the language.”

“Actually, I was upset by the mouse, more because of the effect on Chef Martin than anything.” Michael, as always, was defending his hero.

“He’s a star and twice he’s had problems with his demonstrations. Someone hasn’t been doing their job prepping for him. That should never happen to a chef of his stature.”

“And don’t forget the little accident at the winery. If Millie hadn’t pushed him out of the way, the forklift would have run right into him instead of the conveyor belt,” Stephen reminded them.

“What? What are you saying?” Ruth demanded. “Is something funny going on?”

“Hardly funny,” was Michael’s terse reply.

Ruth waved her hand. “You know what I mean. Do you think these incidents were related somehow?”

Michael stared off into space for a moment, and then shook his head. “No. Really I don’t. The incident at the winery was really strange, but we have no idea how they work. It might just be a sloppy operation. And the other two incidents are probably just the result of a busy kitchen and the impact of all of us on it. But, hopefully, that is the end of strange events. You know Chef Martin is going from here to the Culinary Olympics and he doesn’t need to be carrying a load of worry with him to distract him. He needs to be fresh and ready.”

Stephen nodded, agreeing. “You know he’s really a nice guy. He did get me into the Olympics as a member of the press. So I’ll be going there directly from the Retreat. My paper is excited about having an on-site report of the competition. So much so they’re willing to foot the expenses. And I’m sure I’ll get enough material for several more articles.” He beamed. “Life is full of opportunities.”

“That does sound exciting.” Millie’s face reflected her enthusiasm. “I hope you’ll let us all know when any articles about the Retreat or the Culinary Olympics come out, so we can be sure and get a copy to read.”

“Of course. Let me have your e-mail addresses before we leave and I’ll send out an announcement.”

“I’m going back for seconds.” Zoe announced. “Can I get anything for anybody?”

Randy pushed away from the table. “Me too, I have some favorites I’d like just a bit more of.”

Ruth and Stephen got up too, leaving Millie and Michael still at the table. “Are you going to the Olympics?” Millie asked.

“Naturally, who else would lead the cheering section?” He laughed, explaining further, “there are a lot of us groupies who go to every event. It’s kind of like being an ice skating fan, or following gymnastics. In fact, I’m meeting some of them in Cannes before the Olympics so I will be leaving here before Chef Martin and Stephen. But I’ll catch up with them in London in time for all the action.”

“I envy you; I’m sure it will be exciting. Will it be on the Food Channel?”

“No, not yet, but several magazines will be reporting it and of course if he wins it will be in the U.S. papers. It is exciting.”

“Well, I think I’m going to check on the desserts. Please excuse me.” She left the table anxious for her sweet.

“Oh, my god, I thought for a moment I was going over the edge.” Claire shivered. “Thanks for grabbing me.”

“What was that, anyway?” Kristen questioned.

“What was what?”

“I mean, what were you doing? Karate? Kick-boxing? You moved so fast you scared me, them too, I think.”

“Well, Brown Suit couldn’t have been too scared; you saw how fast he moved.” Claire shook her head with disgust. “I learned that at one of those women’s self-defense programs. They said move fast and aim for their balls. If that doesn’t seem possible, go for the knee.

“I wasn’t sure I could kick high enough to reach his crotch, so I went for the knee. I just wasn’t expecting to miss. He sure moved fast. Maybe he went to one of the same kind of classes I did.”

She raised her head off of her knees and looked at Kristen with surprise. “But, I guess it did work. At least it works when your attacker is on an unstable path in slippery shoes.”

She thought a minute. “Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do. If you hadn’t grabbed me I would have gone over the side. That sure wouldn’t have helped you.”

“Claire, get real. You saved our lives. I was just thanking my lucky stars you insisted on coming with me. Otherwise it would have probably been me at the bottom of this cliff instead of them.”

“When I came around that part of the trail and looked up to see them there, I thought I would faint. Sometimes when I get scared I just freeze. One time I blacked out completely. But they scared me so much I guess my instincts just took over. I swear that grin on Brown Suit’s face took me beyond terror. I felt so ferocious I think I could have wrestled them over the edge with my bare hands.”

She looked at Kristen and managed a small smile. “Fortunately, I didn’t have to test that. And now I just feel like a limp dish rag...and I have to pee really, really bad.”

Kristen laughed. “Don’t think you’ll find a toilet around here, but there was a clump of boulders down there a ways. That should serve you.”

Claire slipped her backpack off her shoulders and set it on the ground. Then using it as a lever she struggled to her feet and then stood for a moment to test her knees before moving cautiously down the path. When she reappeared she seemed more like her usual self.

This time instead of sitting on the dirt path she selected a large rock half buried in the cliff to perch on. “Well, Kristen, we don’t have to be running from Brown Suit any more, but I’m sure whoever sent him will send someone else as soon as they realize what happened.”

Kristen nodded; she knew she was running from something bigger than Brown Suit and his friend.

“But our real problem is getting off this trail...” Claire continued.

Kristen blanched. “Oh, shit!” She said it with real feeling. “I’ve really got us into it this time. How are we going to get back to the main trail? We’re trapped here now, aren’t we?”

“Well, I sure didn’t see a way off it, but maybe we should walk it again. We need to look carefully; perhaps there is some place where it is possible to climb out. Either up or down. What do you think?”

Kristen stood up and turned toward Corniglia. “Let’s go, time is wasting.”

When they returned to that wide space in the trail again they were very hot, and discouraged. Claire sought out the same stone she had used before which was in the shade of the bulge of the cliff. Now the sun was lower in the sky and the heat seemed to be attracted to the cliff. She removed her backpack and rummaged through it. “Do you have anything to eat in yours, Kristen?”

Kristen, sitting cross-legged, Indian style, on the trail in part of the pool of shade started doing the same and came up with three energy bars and a little packet of trail mix. Claire had a package of Swiss Chocolates and part of a bottle of water.

She took a slug of water and passed the bottle to Kristen, accepting an energy bar in return.

“We could be here a long time.”

“What about your friend? He was sending someone to meet us in Corniglia. Surely they’ll come looking for us when we don’t show.”

“I hope so.”

It was depressing. They sat there for a while and then began talking to distract themselves from their distress.

“Kristin, I don’t understand how you ended up in Europe. I didn’t think the Witness Protection people placed their people outside the United States.”

“I don’t think they do. But I’m not really in their program yet. I’m being held by the U.S. Attorney’s Office, and the Witness Protection people are just monitoring me. They have the system already in place so it was simpler and safer to be under their management until after the trial. Then I will go on the program. They’ll develop an identity for me and a history. Then I’ll be placed some place under their jurisdiction, in the States.”

Claire nodded. “So how did you end up in Florence?”

“I negotiated.” She nodded her head. “I told them I had already had my life ruined, so it was the least they could do for me while I hid out.” She shrugged. “I didn’t really think they’d go for it but they did. I had always wanted to take some art classes and my Italian was good. Of course living here these past months has certainly helped with my language skills. I call in to the Program in the States regularly and I have my emergency kit.” She patted her backpack.

They were staring morosely out to sea, now too discouraged to even talk.

“Did you hear that?” Claire wondered if she was hallucinating.

There, she heard it again. She got up and moved around the bulge in the cliff to the little bit of trail now abruptly ending in the gash of fresh dirt and stones of the slide area.

“Hello,” he called in an accent that could only be American. Close behind him, peering over his shoulder was a man in combat fatigues of the Italian Police.