Murder at the Cooking School: Book 7 of the Cedar Bay Cozy Mystery Series (2 page)

It was a warm sunny afternoon on the
outskirts of the little Italian village where Angelica Rizzo and her husband,
Giovanni, lived amidst their groves of olive trees. She sat on the patio and
enjoyed a chilled glass of white wine while she nibbled on some salami and
bread which had been baked that morning by her cook. The setting was idyllic
with the bright warm sun making the leaves on the olive trees even greener, if
that was possible. She looked out at the spotlessly maintained olive groves
where workers walked the rows daily to keep them free from weeds. If olive
groves were ever in a contest for being perfectly cared for, the Rizzo groves
would easily win.

Giovanni had told her he’d
be late for dinner, because a client of his needed to see him about some legal
problems he was having. Even though Giovanni had been a successful attorney for
many years, he never used to let clients interfere with the time he considered
sacred, the time he spent with his wife. She shook her head in frustration.

I know he’s having an
affair. Too many of my friends have hinted at it for it not to be true. I’ve
tried to ignore the innuendos, but even though I’m dying inside, I’ll never
give anyone the satisfaction of thinking I know what they’re talking about. I
can just imagine what they must be saying. Probably that I’m stupid or blind.
I’m sure I’m the laughingstock of the village, a pitiful version of the village
idiot.

I didn’t want to think the
rumors were true, but after finding the receipt for the hotel in Florence, I
couldn’t ignore the situation any longer. I had to talk to someone, so I told
my friend Luisa, the chef at Castello di Nardo. She patted my hand and told me
Signora Nardo was gone from the castle on the same day as the date on the
receipt. She’d told the staff that she had business in Florence. Right. She had
business in Florence all right. Business with my husband.

She must be the reason
Giovanni hasn’t come to my bed for many months. I’m much prettier than she is,
and people always tell me how warm and real I am. She’s a cold domineering
woman.  I don’t know what he sees in her. He never asks me anymore about what I
did during the day or what I think about something. I’m glad I hired Piero to
follow him and tell me if he’s having an affair with Tonia Nardo. I wish Piero
would call. I don’t think I can go on like this much longer. I hired him a week
ago, and surely he’s found out something by now.

Angelica thought back to
when she’d discovered the receipt in the bathroom wastebasket. She didn’t make
a habit of going through the trash, but the small bottle containing her contact
lens solution had rolled off the bathroom counter and into the wastebasket.
When she put her hand in the wastebasket to retrieve it, a bright yellow piece
of paper caught her eye. It was a receipt for a room at the
Firenze Albergo
,
the most expensive hotel in Florence. She stood looking at what some would call
“firm evidence” for a long time, knowing her world was about to crash down on
her. She couldn’t ignore the situation any longer. With trembling fingers she
picked up the phone and called her best friend Nuncia in Florence.

“Nuncia, it’s Angelica. Do
you have a minute? I need to talk to someone.”

“Of course. What is it?”

She began to cry and for
the first time Angelica completely unburdened herself. She told Nuncia about
her suspicions, how her marriage had turned cold, how Giovanni seemed to have
lost all interest in her, and her belief that he was having an affair with
Tonia Nardo, the owner of the
Castello di Nardo
.

“Oh,
caro amica
, my
dear friend, I am so sorry. I have met this Tonia Nardo, and you are so much
more of a woman than she is. What is Giovanni thinking? I have heard a term
that Americans use when a man does what he is doing. It’s called male
menopause. I think that’s what must be happening to Giovanni. Of course there
will be no divorce. As strong Catholics, neither one of your families would
ever allow it. First of all, before you confront him you must be certain.
Several of my friends have used a private investigator they all highly
recommend. I kept his name, because you just never know when you might need a
good private investigator. His name is Piero. Here’s his number. Call him, and
tell him what you have told me. I’m sure he can help. Once you have the facts,
you can decide how to proceed with the information. Again,
caro amica
, I
am so sorry. I thought you and Giovanni had the perfect marriage.”

“So did I, Nuncia, so did
I. Thank you for the referral, and I’ll call you after I find something out.”

*****

Angelica’s cell phone rang, and she
saw Piero’s name on the screen. “Piero, I’ve been waiting for your call. Have
you found out anything?”

“
Si, Signora
Rizzo.
I wish it was good news, but you asked me to find out what I could.”

Angelica’s heart was
thumping wildly, and her knuckles had turned white where she was holding the
stem of her wine glass. She took a deep breath and said, “Please, Piero. Tell
me everything you found out.”

“I cannot tell you my
sources, but what you told me is true. Your husband and
Signora
Nardo
have been seeing each other for many months. They meet at different hotels in
Florence and Siena. Because I was not in their hotel room I can’t say with
certainty whether or not they are having physical relations, but then again
what else do a man and woman do when they lock themselves in a hotel room for
most of the day?

“I showed their
photographs to a number of hotel personnel, and all of them recognized
Signora
Nardo and your husband as frequent visitors to their hotel. They stay in their
hotel room from the time they get to the hotel until around 6:00 p.m. They
arrive and leave in separate cars and usually order room service along with a
bottle of wine. The room is reserved in his name, and he pays for it. I assume
he pays with a business credit card, so the credit card bill would go to his
law office, rather than to your home.”

Angelica looked at her
shaking hand and took a sip of wine. She clamped her hand on the stem of the
wine glass and said in a high pitched voice that she barely recognized as her
own, “Thank you Piero. What do your clients usually do after you give them news
like this?”

“It depends. For some of
them, the confirmation is enough. Others decide to take lovers of their own or
confront their spouses. Rarely does the information I provide to a client lead
to a divorce. Occasionally, people ask other things of me,” he said and paused.

When he didn’t continue,
she said, “Piero, I don’t know what you mean by other things. What else could
there be?”

“
Signora
, the
number I called is your cell phone, is that correct?”

“
Si
, but why would
that matter?”

“I want to make sure that
what I am about to tell you remains between us and is not traceable,” he said.
“Sometimes clients feel if the object of their spouse’s attention is removed,
the marriage can be saved.”

The phone line remained
silent for several moments while she digested what Piero had just said, and
then Angelica replied. “Piero, I believe I know what you mean. I need to think
about the information you’ve given me before I make a decision I might regret.
I’ll get back to you later today. If I should decide to do some other thing, as
you put it, how much would you charge?”

“I have an account in the
Cayman Islands. I would require that funds in an amount equal to twenty
thousand American dollars be transferred to that account.”

“Thank you. No matter what
I decide to do, I’ll call you later.” She ended the call and poured herself
another glass of wine, remembering the trust fund her parents had left her when
they had died several years earlier. She’d never used it, because Giovanni made
a very good living as a lawyer. They also had a nice source of income from the
olive oil business which Giovanni had told her was thriving.

What better way to spend
my inheritance than to once and for all get rid of the object of my husband’s
affection? I’d also probably be doing the community a service as well. I have
heard talk that she is very cruel to her staff and has hurt a number of people,
personally and financially.

She picked up the phone
and pressed in Piero’s telephone number.

“Piero, it’s Angelica
Rizzo…”

Tonia Nardo put a tip in the young
hotel valet’s hand while he held the Alfa Romeo car door open for her. She
waved to Giovanni who was in the car behind her and drove away from the
Firenza
Aberigo
, easily entering the flow of traffic as she began the one hour
drive back to the
Castello di Nardo
. In a few days a new cooking class
would start, and she needed to make sure everything was ready.

She knew she was
jeopardizing everything by continuing to meet Giovanni in hotels in Florence
and Siena, but she couldn’t help herself. Simply stated, she was madly in love
with him. She lived for what he said and did to her during their private
moments in the hotel rooms. For the first time in her life, a man made her feel
wanted. She was very aware she wasn’t the type of woman that men preferred. She
was certain the only reason her husband, Stefano, had married her was because
she had inherited the castle and its adjoining lands from her parents, who at
the same time had cut her brother, Salvadore, out of their Wills. Stefano had
even taken her surname, Nardo, as his.

Tonia was overly tall for
a woman and very slender. Her figure, if you could call it that, was
practically non-existent and was matched by her nearly flat chest. She
painfully remembered being called “horseface” when she was in school. Tonia had
never recovered from the acne she’d had as a teenager, and her face was
permanently scarred. She lacked the grace and feminine characteristics that
seemed to be the birthright of other women, so her social graces were
considered rough and coarse by those who knew her. Some said she was tone deaf,
socially. Even with all of that, for the last year Giovanni Rizzo had declared
his undying love for her, and she was eternally grateful for it.

It’s so very complicated
, she thought as she drove
back to the castle.
He tells me how much he loves me, yet he is a very
strong Catholic, as is his wife, Angelica. He tells me he wants to be with me
all the time, but I know he’ll never divorce her. I don’t see how it will end.
I suppose if I wasn’t married, there’s a chance he might leave Angelica, but I
wonder. He’s resolved all of the legal and financial problems I was having, and
he tells me I’m through with those. He says if I deed the castle over to him,
there would be no way that Stefano could ever get it. That would be true even
if I died or divorced Stefano. Although legally it would be the property of
Giovanni, he assures me it would only be for my protection, and he would never
do anything without my consent.

I’ve thought about his
proposal for a long time, and I think that’s what I’m going to do. With the
cooking school and the hotel I’ve made enough money to pay the back taxes, and
the government has taken their lien off of the property. I won’t even have to
do business with that shady man who said he would be willing to lend me the
money if I would use the castle as collateral. He didn’t tell me who he worked
for, but I knew. It’s common knowledge that the Mafia looks for people who are
in financial trouble, offering to help them, and then they end up taking their
property. No, if I deed the castle and its lands over to Giovanni, I will never
have to do business with the Mafia.

Lost in reverie, Tonia
almost ignored the ringing of her hands-free car phone. She looked at the
monitor and saw that it was Stefano, her husband.

“Yes, Stefano, what is
it?”

“I was getting concerned
that you’d forgotten we have a dinner engagement tonight. We are due at the
Bianchi’s vineyard for a wine-tasting and dinner at eight o’clock. I’m just calling
to remind you.”

“Stefano, I haven’t
forgotten. I’ll be there in just a few minutes, and I promise you we won’t be
late. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I’m not worried about it,
but I certainly don’t want to do anything to upset our relationship with them.
Their wine is some of the best in Italy, and it’s always a favorite with the
students who attend our cooking schools.”

“I’m well aware of what
our students like. That’s the reason the cooking school has become so popular.
Please make sure that Matteo feeds Bruno and Caesar. That’s one less thing I’ll
have to do when I get home.”

“Certainly. Where were you
today?”

“Florence. I needed to add
some extra things to the food I had ordered for the upcoming cooking school.”

Stefano was quiet for a
few moments, and then he said, “Couldn’t you have just called and added it to
your order rather than having to drive to Florence?”

“I probably could have,
but I didn’t. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

She ended the call and
thought how lucky she was that they had an arrangement. He had his friends, and
she had Giovanni. She supposed it was his male ego that made him hint that
maybe she’d had something else going on when she was in Florence. He would probably
be very surprised that a man as handsome as Giovanni wanted to meet her in
hotels in Florence and Sienna.

Even though ours is a
marriage of convenience, I’ve always known about all your affairs, Stefano, but
I never cared enough to confront you about them. Now you can see what it’s like
to wonder. Let’s see, what was I thinking about before he called?

Oh, yes
,
I certainly hope
Elena Oberti accepts my offer to be the chef at the cooking school. She’s
become very popular because of her television show, and I know she’d attract a
lot of new students. Luisa is the problem. I don’t think she’ll accept a job as
the sous chef under Elena, but I can offer it to her. If she does, it would
keep my brother from telling Stefano about Giovanni, but maybe it’s time to get
out from under that threat. I don’t think Stefano would care, I just think he’d
be surprised that someone found me attractive enough to have an affair with. I
don’t see Stefano leaving me if my brother tells him about my affair with
Giovanni. He likes to be the lord and master of the castle, and he certainly
likes to oversee the vineyard and its production. It’s a good thing it’s not
evident how much wine he’s tested when we have the cooking school welcome
dinners. Of course, anyone can tell from looking at his face that he has a
fondness for the grape.

If I can get Elena to
accept my offer, and she starts teaching at the castle, that should make my
cooking school so popular Berto Moretti would have to close his, and I’d have
the only cooking school in this part of Tuscany. If that happens, he would also
probably have to close down that pitiful little shop of his, Cucina, and leave
the area. When he leaves I will become the Queen of the Tuscany Cooking
Schools. I think I’d like that title. What I’d really like to do is have
Giovanni become my King, but since that probably isn’t going to happen, I’ll
still continue to see him. If he wasn’t in my life, I don’t think I’d want to
live. Stefano never has and never will mean anything to me, and I don’t have anyone
else. The children I so desperately wanted never came.

The only one who really
loves me besides Giovanni is Caesar, my dog. Some might call that kind of
pathetic, but I love it that I don’t have to depend on anyone else for my
happiness. No, I definitely have a good life, and even though I don’t rely on
Giovanni, he makes my life worth living. The next time we meet, I’ll tell him
I’ve decided to sign the papers deeding the castle over to him, so he can make
sure that Stefano never gets it. I trust Giovanni with my life, and I know he
has my best interests at heart.

She turned off the main
highway and onto the road that led to the castle, refreshed and pleasantly
satisfied from her day with Giovanni.