‘And just how do you propose that?’ I asked.
‘Oh, don’t worry dear, we know how to get an audience with the chef.’ Mom looked over the edge of her water glass at me, her eyes sparkling with delight.
‘How do you do that?’
‘Why we complain about the meals, of course.’ Millie looked at me as if I was daft. ‘Shhh… here they come.’
The waitress deposited the plates on the table and we tucked in. Millie and mom both felt sorry for me and insisted I try theirs. It was delicious.
‘I don’t see how you can complain about this food, it’s delish,’ I mumbled around a mouthful of lasagna.
‘Oh no? Millie passed the glass of a light Pilsner she’d ordered to Mom. ‘Hold my beer.
‘Oh miss. Miss…’ Millie flapped her hands in the air to summon the waitress who hurried over with a frown on her face.
‘Can I help you?’
Millie pushed her plate away from her.‘This veal is as tough as shoe leather!’ Never mind that she’d eaten almost all of it.
The waitress looked at the plate skeptically.‘I’m so sorry, can I get you something else?’
Millie folded her arms over her chest.‘Certainly not. I’d like to see the chef.’
‘I’m sorry, but chef Murano doesn’t leave the kitchen.’ The waitress looked a little scared but I wasn’t sure if it was of Millie or chef Murano. If rumors of Murano’s temper were true, it was likely of him. All the more reason to suspect him of the murder.
Millie harrumphed. She sat up straight, her eyes shooting daggers at the waitress.‘But I insist. Nothing will make this better except a visit from chef Murano himself. I demand to see him.’
The waitress’ eyes narrowed slightly as if she was going to call Millie’s bluff, but she must have thought better of it because she simply said, ‘I’ll see if he’s available,’ before scurrying off.
Millie’s scowl turned into a smile. She grabbed the beer from Mom and took a swig. ‘See. Works every time.’
Millie’s gloating was short lived. The waitress came back wearing an apologetic look.
‘Chef Murano is busy in the kitchen. He said to offer a free dessert.’
‘Free dessert?’ Millie said loudly, her voice incredulous. ‘That’s no compensation.’
People were starting to stare and the waitress looked antsy.‘We can take your meal off the bill…’
Millie shot up from her seat.‘No. None of that will do. I need to talk to chef Murano. Which way to the kitchen.’
‘You can’t go in th—’
But Millie was already marching toward the steel doors that clearly led to the kitchen, casting a follow-me glance over her shoulder at us.
Mom tossed her napkin on the table and slid out of the booth.‘Guess we should follow her.’
The kitchen was a flurry of activity and a chaos of smells. Pots clanged, sous chefs rushed around plating salads and putting dollops of whipped cream on desserts. In the middle, Tony Murano stood in front of a steel table. He was tall with dark hair, a five o’clock shadow on his chin – though it was only 1:30 – and hairy knuckles. Perhaps I noticed the knuckles because they were clutched around a cleaver that he held high in the air. The florescent lighting glinted off the blade as it sliced down toward the table.
Thwack!
Mom, Millie and I all jumped as the cleaver cut through the side of beef that had been lying on the table.
‘Oh!’ Mom gasped.
Tony’s eyes jerked from the beef to Mom, then me, then Millie. His face darkened. ‘What are you doing in here?’
Millie marched to the other side of the table. I could see her trying to peek over to see what he had on his feet but she was too short.‘I would like to complain about my veal.’
Tony’s eyes narrowed. The cleaver glinted. ‘Look lady, there’s nothing wrong with the veal. I tasted it myself. I think you’re just trying to weasel out of paying the bill.’
‘I certainly am not!’ Millie stomped her foot then tried to peek around the corner of the table. ‘I just wanted you to… umm…’ She turned around and looked at us.
‘Admit that the meal was subpar.’ Mom came to her rescue.
‘Subpar? Who are you people? Food critics? I don’t like food critics.’ Tony raised the cleaver and we all took a step back.
The sous chefs had stopped working and were watching the argument.
‘We are not food critics.’ Millie started around the corner of the table, glancing back at us with a knowing look. ‘We’re just little old ladies trying to get a good meal. Social security only goes so far you know, and we need to get good value for our money. But more importantly, we want you young people to have the manners to admit when something isn’t good.’
Tony was looking at Millie like she was a three-day-old salad. Clearly he didn’t want to be on the same side of the table as her because he sidestepped away.
‘Listen lady, you need to leave.’
Millie pressed her lips together. Clearly this tactic wasn’t working. ‘Well maybe a handshake then and we’ll call it a day?’
She started toward him but Tony held up the cleaver, stopping her.
A door in the back of the kitchen burst open. A woman stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she took in the intruders in the kitchen. She glanced from Tony to Millie to Mom, her eyes widened when they got to me.
She looked furious as she turned to Tony.‘What’s going on in here? Who isshe?’ She jabbed her finger in my direction.
Tony scowled.‘I don’t know, honey. They burst in here demanding I apologize because they didn’t like their dinners.’
The woman, Tony’s wife or girlfriend apparently, looked like she didn’t believe him.
While Tony was distracted with this woman, Millie sidled over to the other side of the table. She craned her neck looking down in the direction of Tony’s feet. Her eyes widened and she glanced over at us nodding her head in an exaggerated manner. Honestly, she couldn’t have been less subtle.
Luckily, Tony was no longer paying attention to us. He was busy arguing with the woman who was now standing in front of him, her hands fisted on her hips.
‘Well I certainly hope that this hussy here isn’t trying to get your attention.’ She jerked her head in my direction.Hussy?
I raised my hand.‘Uhh… I just came with them. I don’t want anyone’s attention.’
The woman got in Tony’s face. ‘Is that right? Maybe she came here thinking I wasn’t in and she could have you all to herself.’
Tony took a few steps back.‘No dear, that’s not it at all.’ He swaggered away from the woman toward us. When I say swaggered, I don’t mean in an old-fashioned cowboy way. I mean that he had a funny way of walking on the sides of his feet. Just like the clog print we’d found in the bark mulch.
Continuing with her subtle methods, Millie gasped and pointed at his feet. Luckily Tony still wasn’t paying attention. I mean, he did have a cleaver in his hand.
Millie scurried over to us and grabbed Mom by the elbow.‘Well, looks like our business here is resolved.’
Tony scowled at her, the cleaver glinting off the light.‘What do you mean, lady? I thought you were mad about your meal and wanted some kind of lame apology. Which you aren’t getting.’
‘No worries, I can see you have good intentions.’ She tugged Mom toward the door. ‘So all’s good then. See you later!’
And with that Millie turned and dragged Mom out of the double doors.
I had just enough time to throw some money on the table for the bill and a tip and meet them outside on the sidewalk.
Millie was already halfway down the street, her heels clacking on the sidewalk.‘Well I guess that settles it, Tony Murano was wearing the clogs and he walks on the sides of his feet. He’s the killer!’
Twelve
‘Anybody want the crusty garlic bread?’ Harry asked from his perch on the edge of the dumpster.
‘I do,’ Juliette said.
Nero watched as Harry used his tail for balance while reaching one orange striped paw into the dumpster to skewer the garlic bread, which he flipped to Juliette, who pounced on it.