Murder Al Dente: A Southern Pasta Shop Mystery (Southern Pasta Shop Mysteries Book 1) (24 page)

That rat bastard. He was three times her age
, and he'd taken merciless advantage of her. In that moment I was almost glad he was dead, or I might have killed him myself, the big bully. "So, you hid because you were afraid you'd be deported? Did you hear anything else?"

Another miserable nod.
"He told her to go ahead and that he didn't care if I had to leave the country because he could always pick up another one." Her lip trembled, but she fought the tears.

I wondered if she
'd had feelings for the blowhard pastry chef. Even if she hadn't, his callous words would've stung. "And then what happened?"

"
I was scared she would do it. So I ran and hid in the back of your van. I did not know he was dead until I heard you telling your grandfather about what had happened."

I frowned.
"Why did you follow me to the mountains?"

"
You were never alone here—your grandfather was always with you. I thought if I could catch you alone I could tell you what happened. You know the people here, and you could tell them that I did not kill him."

My fingers drummed on the table top.
"Mimi, you need to tell the police what you heard, about the woman who'd been arguing with Farnsworth."

"
They will deport me! I'm a second daughter, worthless to my family. If I am sent home my father will be forced to take me in and find me a husband. I will never be a real chef." Her eyes welled with tears but didn't spill over.

Damn it.
"Okay. I know next to nothing about immigration, but is there a way to renew your visa?"

"
Yes, but I would need a job in the field Chef Farnsworth was training me."

"
You mean, like a pastry chef in a restaurant?"

She shook her head.
"Just in the food service industry. It is expected I start at the bottom."

My smile was faint.
"I have an idea."

Forty five minutes later, Mimi stood before Aunt Cecily. The fact that my ill-tempered aunt hadn
't said no to my cockamamie scheme yet was a good sign.

"
She's a hard worker. And right now, we can just give her room and board," I said. Plus the much needed work visa.

"
You are too skinny." Aunt Cecily, who might have weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, eyed Mimi up and down. "Do you like pasta?"

"
Yes, Ma'am. Very much. Andy was kind enough to let me try your stuffed shells in red sauce. It was delicious."

"
Bene.
" Cecily nodded once, and the interview was over.

"
Terrific." Now, I just had to make sure that all the i's were dotted and the t's were crossed, legally speaking, and then Mimi would be safe to go to the police.

Maybe this would all be over soon.

Stuffed Shells

What you
'll need:

1 lb. ricotta cheese

8 oz. shredded mozzarella

2 tablespoons Parmesan

15 oz. red sauce

1 teaspoon fresh parsley

1 1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper

1/2 onion, minced and sautéed

1 egg

18
-20 jumbo pasta shells, cooked

Preheat oven to 375. Cover the bottom of a 13x9 inch baking dish with sauce. In a separate bowl, beat the egg and mix in the ricotta. Add the other ingredients, and fill the precooked jumbo shells. Place filled shells in a pan, and cook for 20 minutes covered and another 20 uncovered.

**Andy's note: This filling also works for manicotti, though the pasta is harder to work with without tearing. Plus shells just look prettier, in my humble opinion.

I looked up from the receipts I'd been tallying when the bell above the door jingled, and I smiled when I saw Donna. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

She looked better than she had earlier, not so pale and shaky.
"Okay, I guess. That was really unsettling, so thanks for telling me Mimi's all right. Jones left this in my car, by the way."

She slid an envelope onto the counter
, and I opened it to see the file on Norman Burrows. In the commotion over the random pool of blood, I'd forgotten all about it. "Norman Burrows. Why does that name sound familiar?"

Donna glanced around, checking to see if we really were alone. When she spoke, her voice was low and hushed.
"Remember the printouts I gave you on Jones?"

My lips twitched.
"You mean the illegally obtained information?"

"
Sssh!" Donna waved frantically at me like she could make my words dissipated into nothing.

"
Relax. There's no one here." I glanced through the Norman Burrows file. Instead of a rap sheet like what I'd seen before, Jones's report was much more detailed. "Holy macaroni, Donna. Listen to this.

"
Norman Burrows, also known in culinary circles as Chef Zoltan Farnsworth, was accused of fraud by his former assistant, one Juliette Dewitt. According to Dewitt the much lauded pastry chef never lifted a finger in the kitchen and expected her to fulfill every order, while taking credit for her work."

"'
I have no idea how he got such a good reputation,' says Dewitt, 32 of Lansing, Michigan. 'Though several wealthy patrons have endorsed him, I'm sorry to say he's a big, fat phony. It was bad enough that he took credit for my work, but then when he suggested I have sex with him, I told him to stuff his apron where the sun doesn't shine.' Dewitt later retracted her statement."

"
Why would she do that?" Donna asked.

I drummed my fingers on the open file.
"Money, would be my guess. The woman sounded rip-roaring pissed. We know for sure that he was taking advantage of Mimi, so I'd believe he'd tried it before, and when it didn't work, he paid her off."

Donna skimmed through the papers.
"I don't think he had that kind of hush money. Look at his gambling debts."

"
Maybe somebody else paid her off on his behalf." I scanned the list of his patrons, including the Tillmans, but I couldn't imagine them endorsing a drunken lout. He'd surely snowed a lot of people.

"
Flavor TV?" Donna raised an eyebrow.

"
I wouldn't put it past them, but I doubt they killed him to get him to stop."

"
Maybe this Juliette Dewitt did."

I closed the file and stuffed it in
to my bag. "I'll drop it off with the police when I bring Mimi in later. I've got other things to worry about, like how to save the Bowtie Angel." And what on Earth to say to Pops about him and Aunt Cecily.

Donna nodded.
"I get that. So, I'll see you at Emma's later. Pippa just made the Spelling Bee regional team. I can't wait to rub it in her smug doctor's face."

I laughed.

"Whatever blows up your skirt, Donna."

* * *

"Andy!" Emma Shaw opened the door to her home, a pretty little ranch painted periwinkle blue with plum trim that looked as though someone's fairy godmother lived within. Despite the serenely domestic setting, the obvious sounds of a party carried through the open windows.

I juggled the antipasto platter and the tray of zingy ziti, which I
'd made special for Emma's party. "Where do you want me to set up?"

"
Here, let me give you a hand with that." She took the tray, and I followed her down the hall to her modern kitchen. It had that sparkling look of someone who spends more time cleaning than cooking. No random salt shaker or jar of olive oil stood out for easy access, but the space smelled citrus fresh, and despite her having three kids there wasn't one smudge on the stainless steel refrigerator.

"
Can I get you a glass of wine?" Emma asked as I shucked my light blue windbreaker and moved to uncover the ziti.

"
Oh, no, I shouldn't. I'm driving and all."

"
It's fine. Frank is on standby to drive anyone home if they need to. Here, try this chardonnay Lizzy brought. It's fab."

My heart sank when I realized Lizzy was here, too. Our
mutually agreed upon
I'll ignore her until she goes away strategy
might not work in such an intimate gathering. "I forgot you guys were thick as thieves in high school. Are you in her wedding party?"

Emma shook her head.
"Nah, we grew apart. Though she still makes a cameo whenever I have one of these little get-togethers. Come out and join the fun."

"
I have to get some more stuff from the van. I'll be out when I'm done." This was weird, catering for someone who wanted to include me with the festivities. Unlike Donna, I liked Emma well enough, though sitting around and drinking wine with her and Lizzy and whoever else was out there would undoubtedly lead to discussing quote-unquote, the good old days.

Was my eye twitching?

I unloaded the van, sliced and prepped the garlic bread, and listened to the laughter from the other room. It sounded like a coven meeting, with all the local witches cackling with glee. The ziti was all set. I looked around and straightened a pile of napkins. The wine glass sat there, taunting me.

"
There you are." Donna poked her head in. "What are you doing in here?"

"
Stalling." I offered her a weak smile.

"
Chicken," she said. "Come on—don't leave me alone in a room surrounded by Emma and her adorable offspring. I swear if I hear one more Shaw baby story, I'm going to strangle someone."

"
Always with the competition." I wanted to tell her about Mimi, but this wasn't the time or place to get into our amateur sleuthing antics. "Okay, lead the way."

Armed with wine in one hand and the antipasto platter in the other, I entered the lioness
's den.

"
And so when my cousin called she told me that Eric had left porn in the microwave," Roberta Higgins was saying. " I mean, what kind of man stores porn in a microwave, for crying out loud? Doesn't he have a mattress or a special drawer for his
fwap fwap
material?"

She was a big woman with a booming voice that carried to every corner of the small house. Clearly, the half
-empty glass of wine in her hand wasn't her first.

Stephanie Henderson and Alice Green,
both part of Lizzy's high school entourage, were laughing at Roberta's antics. Lizzy and Emma sat next to Roberta on the couch. I set the platter down on the table and then took the armchair.

"
Andy," Roberta boomed. "Good to see you, girl. How's tricks?"

"
Still turning," I said. "What have you been up to?"

"
I'm a librarian." Roberta's voice shook the rafters.

"
Imagine that." I couldn't suppress a smile.

I
'd always liked Roberta, the class clown. She was like me, another surrounded by a sea of pale-skinned model types.

"
Andy, I heard you are involved with Lizzy's brother," Alice said. "He's the most gorgeous man I've ever seen up close. Those eyes should be outlawed."

Lizzy
shot her friend a dirty look.

"
You could say that." I didn't want to delve into the nature of that involvement, but there was something nice about laying a public claim on Jones. I recalled our kiss from earlier and was fairly certain I had a dopey expression on my face. "He asked me to be his date to Lizzy's wedding."

"
He didn't!" Lizzy's expression smacked of betrayal. But no one paid her any attention as they squealed over me landing Jones.

"
A wedding date is serious business," Roberta thundered. "It's not like a woman looking for a man to bring. Guys go to weddings stag all the time."

"
I took them out to look at houses earlier." Donna's smile was smug.

"
Them?" Lizzy squeaked. A sheen of moisture gathered on her upper lip, and for a moment, I actually felt sorry for her. Then, I recalled the time she'd stolen my clothes out of my gym locker while I was showering and stuffed them in the toilet just because Kyle had asked me to the homecoming dance.

"
No shit." Roberta's eyes were the size of pasta bowls. "Wow, things must be going really well if the two of you are thinking of moving in together."

"
You can't!" Lizzy was on her feet, tiny fists shaking with fury.

"
Can't we?" I was evil and bound for hell, but my satisfaction at seeing her like this would not be denied. "Why not?"