Mozzarella Most Murderous (32 page)

“I owe you an apology, Carolyn,” she said.

“Whatever for?” I asked.

“I thought you were the one who killed Paolina.”

“Me?” I echoed, astounded. “Why in the world would you think that?” But I never got an answer because the closing doors separated us.

Eliza then told me that I really needed to change my clothes—as if I didn’t know it—but that I must come straight back to the lobby and tell her what had happened. Absolutely, Albertine agreed, and warned me that if I took a nap, as I had announced I intended to do, I’d have night-mares. She said what I needed was conversation and several stiff drinks to bolster me after our mutual ordeal.
Mutual ordeal?
I thought.
She didn’t have to wash off two slippery babies in the manager’s sink.
Signor Villani had rushed back into his office once we’d vacated it. How I’d have loved to see his reaction to the state of his chaise longue and bathroom, not to mention the piles of towels tossed onto the carpet.

Since a stiff drink sounded good to me, I did return after showering and changing clothes, and we three ladies went into the bar and sat in comfy chairs with cocktails in our hands while I told my story. Of course, they were horrified at what Bianca and I had been through and impressed with my innovative solution to imminent death. I was impressed myself. So far only the general had found my strategy laughable. Eliza did remark that if Hank hadn’t been a fellow American, I might have realized earlier that he, not Constanza, was the murderer.

“Oh?” I said. “And when did you suspect him?”

“I’m always suspicious of people who won’t stop the car when I come upon an absolutely smashing plant,” Eliza replied.

She never had a clue
, I thought, but I let it go.

Albertine asked if Constanza had been released from hotel arrest, an arrangement that had to be explained to me. It seemed that the general had sent Constanza to another hotel under guard, where she was held and questioned in the comfort befitting her noble ancestry. In fact, word had come back that she liked the food in her new hotel much better than anything the Swiss chef could produce and had announced to Agent Loppi that if Ricci Chemicals held any more conferences in Sorrento, the Grand Palazzo Sorrento would lose its place to her new favorite. Agent Loppi was of the opinion that Signora Ricci-Tassone had no firm grasp on reality if she thought Ricci Chemicals would even survive after the general got through with it. However, no one on the general’s staff had thought Constanza guilty of anything but murder.

My, how police business does get around
, I reflected.
Even federal secret agents can’t keep their mouths shut.
The general dropped in and had a drink with us. “Girol has a fractured skull,” he announced. “They’re operating on him now. Of course, he may not live to face trial for the two murders, but I congratulate you, Signora Blue, for wheedling a confession out of him while you tied his shoelaces together.” And the general started laughing again. I was about to say something I might have regretted, when he stopped laughing and said, “I hope the bastard stays alive long enough to feel some pain, a lot of pain, for what he did to my daughter.”

For a minute there I’d forgotten that the general was in mourning. He was so stoic. I patted his arm and said, “She was a delightful young woman. And extraordinarily beautiful.”

“Thank you,” said the general. “She was, wasn’t she?”

“In fact, I have pictures of her on my camera. If you would you like to choose some, I’ll have them printed and sent to you.”

“That would be very kind.”

We were all looking at pictures of Paolina when the chemists finally got out of the meeting and joined us in the bar. That’s when I realized that someone was going to have to tell Sibyl that her husband was not only in the hospital with a fractured skull, but also that he had committed two murders. I let the general do it. He’d only gotten as far as the fractured skull when she burst into tears and threw herself into Jason’s arms.

It was at that moment that my jealousy of Sibyl ended. My husband looked completely flummoxed. He stared at her in dismay, this woman who, because she was much taller than he, was putting a crick in her neck in order to cry on his shoulder. Then he turned to me with the most helpless look. If ever a man needed rescuing, Jason was that man. I wouldn’t have chosen myself for the job, considering that I was more or less responsible for Hank’s condition, but Sibyl didn’t know that. She hadn’t heard a quarter of the story. I pried her gently away from my husband, murmuring sympathetically, patting her on the back, providing tissues, and suggested that she’d want a cab so that she could go straight to the hospital to be with Hank.

She was very grateful and went along with me to the desk and then downstairs to the entrance where the cab pulled up much more promptly than the ambulances had. I helped her in, handed her a whole pack of travel Kleenex, and sent her on her way. I suppose I should have prepared her for the double-murder part of the story, but there were police there to guard him. She’d hear. And after all, I had been one of his intended targets. How much more could be expected of me?

On returning upstairs to the bar, I discovered that in my absence my husband had been apprised of my adventures and was very upset. “You weren’t even supposed to leave the hotel, Carolyn,” he said reproachfully. “I didn’t even know you were gone. Why would you ignore the general’s specific orders and—”

“I didn’t know about the general’s orders,” I interrupted. “Hank said he had permission. And I really did want to go to Capri. How was I to know Hank planned to toss me off a cliff and let the tide wash me up on the island? I was expecting to take a boat.”

“For shame, Professor,” Albertine scolded. “Do not upset your wife when she has had such a trying day. I am distraught myself, and I only helped with the delivery of the babies. Poor Carolyn did that
after
surviving a terrifying attack on her life and a very dangerous auto trip back to Sorrento with a murderer and a woman in labor.”

Jason looked embarrassed. Adrien asked, “What babies are these that you and our good Carolyn helped to deliver?” an incredulous smile on his lips.

“My grandchildren,” trilled Violetta, fluttering up to the group and linking her arm through the general’s. She leaned forward to drop kisses on my cheek and Albertine’s. “How can we thank you? Such beautiful babies. And to have them on a chaise longue with you kindly ladies in attendance.” Then she rifled through her handbag and lifted out hospital photos of the newborns, who looked as newborns usually do, red-faced and wrinkled. “Aren’t they adorable?” she asked the general.

He looked sadly at the pictures. “They are indeed, Signora. You are a lucky woman. Now that my Lucia is gone, I can never hope to welcome grandchildren into the world. Signora Blue, perhaps you would be so kind as to show Signora Massoni the picture of my lovely daughter, the one you took in the Piazza Tasso.”

My camera and the baby pictures were passed around the ever-widening circle—Agents Marsocca and Loppi had joined us, not to mention Lieutenant Flavia Vacci, who was cooing over the twins. Violetta squeezed the general’s arm again and said, “You poor, dear man. To lose such a beautiful daughter. It is so tragic. But you shall share my adorable grandchildren. You must come to visit us, once we are all back in Rome.”

Valentino told the general that he had loved Paolina to distraction and would have been a happy man could he have called the general father-in-law. Then he offered to take everyone out to dinner at the expense of Ricci Chemicals. The general confused him by advising him that he should be looking for work rather than spending company money that might soon belong to the government.

After that, we all walked down the hill to a restaurant recommended by Violetta. She had eaten there with an admirer during this visit. The food was wonderful, as was the ambiance—all lattices and trailing vines in the dining room, which was reached by a wide staircase from the first floor. I felt much more cheerful, especially since Jason said no more about my misadventures.

 

Jason was already
in bed when I finished my preparations to retire. “Why don’t you open the curtains so we can see the night sky and the volcano,” he suggested as I draped my robe over a chair. I padded barefoot to the balcony doors to draw the drapes and then the sheers back. The night was so beautiful. The afternoon clouds had lifted, and the moon shone so brightly that I could see its light glimmering on the water below, while the shadow of Vesuvius loomed against the night sky. The Amalfi Coast, the Bay of Naples, they had to be the most beautiful places in the world. Not that I’d have cared to be tossed into those lovely waters.

I turned away and climbed into bed beside my husband. “Guess what?” I said.

“What?” he murmured sleepily.

“I forgive you for spending all that time with Sibyl.”

Jason sat bolt upright and said indignantly, “Carolyn, she’s a colleague, not a—a girlfriend. Did I get jealous because you spent so much time with Hank? At least Sibyl wasn’t a murderer.”

I was laughing, but said, “You never know. She might have been in on the container-for-heroin scheme.”

“What scheme are you talking about?” Jason asked, looking down at me.

Poor man, he didn’t know the half of what I’d discovered. “I think I’ll go with you to France after all. Albertine’s not so bad, and presumably we won’t see anything of Charles de Gaulle.”

“Right,” said Jason, lying down again, “and you won’t want to miss the Albigenesian Heresy or whatever it is.”

“I’m afraid it’s over, Jason,” I said giggling. “Just a distant, but painful memory.”

“No more storming castles and
autos-da-fé
in the street? That’s good to know. And I have to say, love, that it’s nice to see you in such a good mood. You’ve been pretty grumpy lately.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re always telling me what I can and can’t do.”

“Well, I worry about you.” He pulled me into the curve of his arm.

“And you think I don’t worry about you?” I retorted.

“But did I nag you all these years about working with toxins, which are at least as dangerous as the occasional murderer?”

“Point taken,” said Jason and, pulling me closer, curved his body against mine.

It felt like old times. Better times. I guess romantic Sorrento was finally working its magic.

Insalata Caprese

Neapolitan Mushroom Pate on Toasts

Tuna in the Style of Palermo

Caponata

A Hamburger in the Style of the Campania

Coffee Granita

Limoncello

Lemon Torte

Pork with Marsala Wine and Juniper

Bucatini alla Caruso

Stuffed Peaches with Mascarpone Cream

Ribolitta (Italian Vegetable Soup)

Torta Caprese