Claire Gulliver #03 - Intrigue in Italics (25 page)

She shook her head.

George shrugged. “I don’t remember these, and I don’t know what kind they are.”

“Thank you, George. Sorry to interrupt your work.”

Chef Martin dismissed him, so George had no choice but to return to the cabbage rolls even though he cast puzzled glances over his shoulder at Millie.

“Chef Martin, I’m so sorry about this. I just didn’t handle the situation well. Perhaps if I apologize...,” her voice trailed off as Chef Martin picked up the two mushrooms and headed purposefully to the Villa side of the kitchen, motioning to Millie to follow.

“Geno, do you recognize these mushrooms?”

Geno shook his head and then called one of his chefs over. Their conversation was in rapid Italian, and then the other chef picked up one of the mushrooms, turning it over in his hand. He had a look of horror on his face when he replied to Geno.

Geno, looked a little pale as he turned to Chef Martin. “He says it looks like a species called Amanita Virosa.” His expression was grim. “Also it is called Death Angel. Where did these come from?”

Millie gasped and might have collapsed except for Chef Martin’s hand on her arm holding her up.

“But, Chef Martin...,” Millie was close to panic. “LiAnn ate one. What will it do to her?”

Chef Geno looked horrified. “We must find her. She must go to the hospital immediately. It might already be too late,” he added grimly.

“I’ll go. It’s my responsibility. And hopefully we’ll find out where these came from.”

Chef Geno spoke rapidly to his chef, then said in English for their benefit, “We will collect all the mushrooms in the kitchen. No mushrooms will be served until we find out what happened. Meanwhile, Chef Martin, I will put this one in a bag. If you take this person who has eaten one to the hospital give them this so they can make sure of what she has eaten. Perhaps that way they can identify an antidote.”

“But she said it was delicious.” Millie still couldn’t believe it was poisonous.

Chef Geno shook his head. “Maybe it was, but still deadly. Everyone washes their hands with soap and water. And use a disinfectant. We will take no chances,” he ordered sternly; he wasn’t going to have a disaster come out of his kitchen.

“George. He touched them and now he’s working on the cabbage rolls,” Millie realized, frantic.

Chef Martin looked at her. “If he didn’t wash his hands before touching the cabbage rolls, they are all to be thrown out. You will have to start over. Do you understand, Millie?

“You are in charge. Give all the mushrooms to Chef Geno for safekeeping. You will have to modify your menu.”

She nodded.

Chef Martin left while Chef Geno and his chef picked up the basket of mushrooms.

Millie went back to her side of the vast kitchen area and approached Renee. “Renee, could you stop a moment and join us over where Randy and George are working. We need to discuss something.”

They all waited expectantly. Of course they had noticed the conference she had with Chefs Martin and Geno and the subsequent scurry on the other side of the kitchen.

“Where’s LiAnn?” George was the first to notice.

So Millie told the story once more and saw by the looks flashing across the faces of her colleagues that they understood completely.

“What is with that woman?”

“Where could she have gotten poisonous mushrooms?”

“What would have possessed her to eat one?”

“Is she all right? Can we do anything?”

Millie shook her head. “Chef Martin has gone after her. He was going to find Sam to take LiAnn to the hospital. And of course, get Marie Verde to go with them for translation sake.”

“Millie, remember that day we took a walk?” George waited for her nod. “Do you remember we saw some mushrooms down there?”

She nodded again, understanding his point. “You think she picked them there? Without knowing what they were?”

“Well, you know how positive she is that she is always right. She probably thought they were mushrooms. I bet she never guessed they could be poison, otherwise, I’m sure she wouldn’t have eaten one.”

Millie felt sick; that poor foolish woman.

Then realizing time was marching on she rallied. “We need to make sure we clean the area thoroughly and then we’re going to have to throw away the cabbage rolls and start again.”

She saw their protests and shook her head again. “George says he washed his hands before returning to the cabbage rolls, but LiAnn was working on them and she had been handling the mushrooms. We can’t take a chance on poisoning people.”

That stopped all discussion cold.

“Did she touch anything else?” The heads shook their reply; you could see them trying to digest what Millie had just told them.

“I don’t think we have enough beef for another round of cabbage rolls. Maybe we can get some from Chef Geno,” Randy said.

“If he doesn’t have any beef to spare we could use turkey or Italian sausage,” was Renee’s suggestion.

George nodded. “I’ll go ask. What about the mushrooms?”

“I think we just don’t serve them. They were really going to be the garnish to the lamb shanks and polenta; we’ll do without. Who will know?”

The others nodded their agreement. George went to the other side of the kitchen to confer with Chef Geno. Renee returned to finish the fish rolls and Randy gathered up the cabbage rolls which needed to be destroyed. Millie cleaned the work station where the mushrooms sat before scrubbing her own hands thoroughly. Then she joined Randy to assess the amount of cabbage and sauerkraut that was still untouched. They were going to have to hustle to finish the dinner in time to get cleaned up for cocktails.

She retraced her steps, looking carefully for the street Senora Sorenson had described. There it was! But no wonder she couldn’t find it. It was but a tiny passage way between two buildings, hardly even an alley. She entered the gloom, shivering slightly with excitement at being so close to the answers to her questions. The alley curved and now she could see the sign. Obviously you had to know about this restaurant, no passers-by would stumble on it by accident. Yet, when she went through the door she found it jammed with people.

“I’m meeting someone...” she started.

“Your name, please.”

“Claire Gulliver.”

He smiled. “Ah yes, the gentleman has been waiting. Follow me please.” He led her through the entire restaurant. Claire could see it was an upscale establishment and she was glad she wore the one dress she had packed for the trip. The maitre’d led her to a tiny alcove which sat apart from the other diners. The man at the table was sitting with his back to her and hearing them approach he stood and turned toward them. She gasped, halting still in her tracks.

The maitre’d looked at her strangely, so she smiled and nodded. “Grazie.”

She reached out and clasped Jack’s hand. “It is really you, isn’t it?”

He looked different. His hair was dark brown, with only a little gray about his ears. His eyes were brown instead of blue and his skin was still weathered, but now had a dark tan hue. All in all he looked like a native, even to the stylish suit and loafers he wore.

But his smile was the same and she relaxed as she took her seat, only then realizing she still clasped his hand. She would have pulled it free, but he wouldn’t let go.

“So, you’re not safe anywhere, are you?”

“This wasn’t my fault. It didn’t have anything to do with me.” Then she paused, a thought hitting her. “It didn’t, did it?”

He shook his head and she relaxed once more.

“I checked. Of course we’re always looking for Guiness. And even now when everyone is watching for al Qaeda terrorists, we’re still keeping our eyes open for Guiness. It would be just like him to strike now while everyone is watching another arena.”

They looked up as the waiter approached. “Chardonnay?” Jack suggested, then nodded his head toward the empty glass sitting in front of him.

As soon as the waiter left Claire asked, “Jack, what are you doing here? I haven’t heard from you since we left D.C.” Her face fell as she remembered the terrible events which had occurred just days after she arrived home.

He nodded. “Everything changed then. I was gone the next day. I had a complete change of assignment. Everyone is stretched to the limit. I’ve been in this area for a few months, but now that assignment is winding down. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were here.” He paused looking at her. “And in trouble. Again! Luckily I gave you that number to call. But I didn’t really think you’d have to use it. I thought you were safe in Bayside.”

“Well, I was. Then my mother talked me into joining her in Italy. Just a little trip to idyllic Italy she said. And..., well, you know what happened, don’t you?”

“Aaron explained.” Then seeing her confusion, “Aaron is the man you spoke to on the phone.”

“Thank god you gave me that number. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I hadn’t called.” She shivered.

“Well, to set your mind at ease, Claire. Kristen is safe, thanks to you. The mole has been uncovered. I’ll tell you the details later when we’re alone. But I know you’ll worry, so this way we can enjoy our meal.” He grinned at her. “We do seem to have trouble having a decent dinner together, don’t we?”

She laughed softly, remembering their broken date in York and the wild storm in Washington D.C. “I think it’s you, because I usually lead a very staid existence.”

“Sure you do. I wasn’t anywhere near you on this trip until you made that phone call.”

She nodded. That was true. She had gotten herself into this mess all by herself. But she wasn’t sorry. Because if she hadn’t been so determined to make sure the woman she saw wasn’t her friend, Kristen, Kristen would be dead now. Goosebumps ran down her spine and she gave an involuntary shiver.

She reached for the glass of wine the waiter had just set in front of her and took a sip. It was so good she took another, and then she felt better.

“This restaurant is known for their fish. I suggest the fish soup, it’s famous. Then perhaps this dish.” He pointed at her menu. “It’s a local fish.”

She nodded and the waiter smiled his approval and left. “I’m sure it will be better than last night’s meal.”

“Where did you eat?”

“Some tourist trap not far from my hotel called The Blue Grotto, the Fish Grotto, or something like that. The food was expensive and inedible.”

“That’s a shame. Venice has a profusion of wonderful restaurants and you must have stumbled into the exception.”

She changed the subject. “I got your postcards. At least I assumed they were from you as they were signed
Bernie
like the rest.”

He nodded as he looked at her carefully. “You look good, Claire. I remember your laugh, your sense of humor, often your intelligence, but I guess I forgot how nice you look.

“And you’ve done something to your hair, haven’t you?”

“And do you think of me often?” she inquired.

“Probably more than is healthy for me.”

“I thought you were going to retire.”

He nodded. “As did I. But when tragedy struck, duty called. Suddenly it was not a good time to worry about my own plans. You know?”

“Well, I’m sorry you’re in the middle of it again. I imagine it’s very dangerous for you. But speaking as an American, I’m very grateful you’re on the job. I know you’re good at what you do, and I’m sure we need as many people like you as we can find.”

The waiter brought large bowls of steaming fish soup and, while the name sounded plain, the soup was anything but. Claire found she was hungry and eagerly ate smiling at Jack when she met his eyes over her bowl.

She was really glad to see him. Twice before he had miraculously stepped in when she was in a very tight spot. She had begun to regard him as her personal knight. She had first met him on her trip to Great Britain almost a year ago. That was the trip when she had been drafted as the tour leader after her friend, Lucy Springer, had a serious accident and became wheelchair bound, so was unable to go. When the rest of the tour members had been determined to continue on the trip, she, as one of the sponsors, albeit an inexperienced traveler felt she had to support them. Little did she know what problems she would face.

Jack had been the professional tour director supplied by Kingdom Coach Tours in London. Then he had sandy blond hair turning gray, blue eyes and an English accent. And he was cheeky. They didn’t get along at first — not openly hostile, but bristling on many occasions. Then as the tour progressed, while they worked together to overcome one hurdle after another, they somehow came to rely on each other. Then they began to trust each other. When they parted at the London Airport, both felt sad their friendship was over. Of course, it wasn’t. Because, as it turned out, the trip wasn’t yet finished.

She paused, refusing to think about that time. She didn’t need to relive all that now.

Then dipping her spoon back into the delicious soup she thought of Jack’s appearance in her life last September. She had been invited to Washington D.C. to attend a board meeting at Vantage Airlines. They had wanted to thank her personally for her role in adverting disaster to their company. She hadn’t been in town more than a couple of hours when someone boldly attacked her on the Washington Mall.

And the person who saved her life was none other than Jack. He was also in town, albeit for other reasons. However, since he had also been invited to the board meeting he knew she was coming. He had just missed her at her hotel, so had headed down the Mall, hoping he could catch up. He did and just in time.

She had a lot to thank Jack for. And she was relieved he was here in Venice, because when he said Kristen was safe, she could believe him.

“I guess you were hungry.”

She looked at her empty bowl and smiled, nodding. “Guess so.”

Then she said, “Jack, who handed me that note and how did they find me?”

“We’ve had someone on you since you left Florence. Didn’t you notice?”

She shook her head, thinking back. “No, I didn’t see anyone. They must have been good.”