A Corpse in the Soup (14 page)

Biff wasted no time in grabbing Candy and doing a round of victory calisthenics for the press as the spectators answered with booming applause. He paused in his jog around the arena to face a defeated Romano, squarely mouthing, “Step aside old man,” and then pushed Candy in front of him and sprinted back to Station Two.

The epitome of the perfect gentleman, Romano looked calm for the cameras and audience, but Godiva was sure that inside he was seething. She suspected the aftertaste the judges complained about had something to do with Wellington. But how? The wine? The proscuitto? The ricotta? How was Wellington managing to sabotage Caesar time after time?

A.J. Carson interviewed the winner and losers of the first round like an announcer at the end of a prizefight. “Feeling pretty pumped up there, aren’t you, Chef Wellington?” he asked the leading contender.

“Oh, you bet, A.J. I’m just warming up. Tomorrow I’ll leave that old Casanova in the dust. And as for the grinning Pirogue Prince and the Sushi Samurai, I’ll chew them up and spit them out in little pieces.”

A.J. caught Romano as he was leaving his kitchen. “And what about you, Chef Romano. Think you still have a chance at the title? His lead is pretty slim...”

Caesar’s swarthy face looked bright red against the white toga. Ramrod straight with arms folded against his puffed up chest, the chef’s anger was projected on the Jumbotron above the Kitchen Coliseum. Through clenched teeth he answered, “Mark my words, A.J., I will retain my title. There’s always tomorrow. Trust me, I’ll cut him down to size.”

CHAPTER 26

Godiva opened the door to Romano’s dressing room and slipped in. She leaned against the wall and watched him glare at his own image in the dressing table mirror without even acknowledging her. “Hey, this is just a little speed bump, Caesar.”

He shrugged, adjusted the monogrammed red velour robe, and turned toward her. His face had become an angry mask.

“I’ve had it!” he hissed. Taking a deep breath, Romano continued in a measured, flat tone. “I’m in no mood for your pep talk right now, Godiva. I should have won today. I’m sorry you’re seeing this side of me, but that bastard has me unhinged.”

Godiva resisted the urge to snap back and instead leaned forward to massage his shoulders. The muscles were coiled like ropes under her fingers. “This isn’t just a pep talk, Caesar, there’s no doubt in my mind that you will win tomorrow. Wellington had to be behind today’s funny taste, but Goldie and I are both sure it wasn’t the work of the same person he used for his other dirty tricks.”

Better not mention poor Edgar till after the tournament.
She walked around the chair to face him. “We think it might have been Candy. After all, she is working for Wellington...”

Romano’s shoulders drooped and he shook his head, “You’re way off base, love. Candy’s too clueless to do anything that clever. On the other hand, you were absolutely right when you said it wasn’t the same person, Godiva.”

“Huh? What are you talking about, Caesar?”

“I did it to myself.” He thumped his chest. “Me...the great Romano. You know what caused the funny taste? He got me so rattled that I put too much nutmeg in the dessert. Quite a joke, isn’t it?”

“Too much nutmeg?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. How could I have used two tablespoons instead of two teaspoons? I’ve never done anything like that before.”

He looked like a boxer who got caught by a surprise punch. “I don’t have the heart to tell Chili. She’ll think she’s working for a real loser.”

Godiva hugged him and cooed. “Oh, my poor Caesar. You must be devastated.”

“Devastated?” The anger peaked and he shouted, “Devastated! Hardly. I just feel like a total idiot. Sabotaging myself, for God’s sake. What could be more stupid?”

Godiva patted his hand in an effort to show empathy. “You can’t let this get to you, Caesar. That’s just what Wellington wants and, well, Goldie and I are convinced he’ll stop at nothing to win. We can talk about it more at dinner.”

“Tell you what, love, I’ll have to take a rain check. Frankly, I’m not up to socializing tonight. When I’ve had a chance to cool off, I’ll call you.”

“Come on, Caesar, being around my crazy family would surely cheer you up.”

“It probably would, but I need to do a little work on my recipe for tomorrow.” His face lit up with anticipation. “Godiva, if I’m going to pull this off, I’ve got to create something that even Gupta will gobble up.”

“Okay, Caesar.” She kissed him on the cheek and headed for the door. “Tomorrow you’re gonna knock ’em dead!”

Goldie opened the door to her daughter’s dressing room and called out “Hey, sweetheart, you did great out there!” Chili’s face was damp with tears. Goldie cupped her daughter’s chin and tapped it lightly with her fist. “Cheer up honey, show business has its ups and downs, but you know how to work an audience. It’s in your blood.”

“Oh, Mom, I was, like, so sure we were going to win the first round. So was Caesar. I just can’t figure out what happened...”

“Well, the game’s not over yet. Win or lose, you’ve got to be a trooper. Romano’s only behind by one point, he’ll pull out all the stops tomorrow.”

Chili smiled. “Yeah, I know. Man, I really wanted Dad and Granny Belle to see us win today. But you’re right Mom. There’s still tomorrow and we
will
‘knock ’em dead’.”

Goldie nodded. “Wellington is such a pompous jerk, he’s bound to screw up. It seemed to me that Candy was almost embarrassed when they won today.”

“I’ll tell you right now, Mom, there’s no way that aerobic idiot will slip anything past us. Caesar wants me to get over here early in the morning and, like, check everything out. Still, I don’t get it, there was nothing that should have left a strange aftertaste...
Nothing!
”

Godiva drove back along Hollywood Boulevard. The seedy old street was in the process of a face-lift, and someday soon it might really have the glamour all the beauty contest winners from Grand Junction, Iowa and Bartlesville, Oklahoma dreamed of when they headed West.

Goldie gawked at the flashy new Kodak Center. “Wow, look at this. It sure doesn’t look like it did when we were in high school. Remember all the tacky souvenir shops and tattoo parlors?”

Godiva nodded. “Quite a difference, isn’t it Sis? Barry Manilow gave the theater’s opening performance and all the over-the-hill groupies were throwing themselves at him. Ugh!”

“Ugh?” Goldie shot back. “I think he’s great.”

Chili interrupted, “Yeah, Mom has all his records. I can’t believe anyone else likes those sappy songs. Was he some big star or something?”

“Yes, Miss Generation X.” Godiva sighed. “He was a big star in his time. Speaking of stars, you’re going to feel like one tomorrow when Caesar wins the medal.” The talk turned to how slim Wellington’s lead was and by the time they pulled up to the gates of Godiva’s estate, everyone was feeling hopeful.

When they opened the front door, the foyer was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of a beef brisket roast and Flossie’s famous
luchen kugel
, a rich, sweet noodle pudding. Martina had followed the vague instructions and although her English was marginal, her culinary skill made anything possible including the mouthwatering Jewish masterpiece. She looked around expectantly.

“No Mr. Caesar?
Mama grande
has teach me how to make thees for him! Smells
delicioso
, don’ you theenk?”

Flossie wiped her hands on her apron—the very one she had worn during her spying mission. “Where’s Caesar?
Kugel
and brisket is just what he needs to cheer him up. Imagine those judges saying there was a strange aftertaste! I think it was the bad taste Wellington left in everybody’s mouth.”

They were all trying to talk at the same time, and Godiva finally made a T-sign. “Listen, Caesar took today’s loss pretty hard. He went back to his kitchen to work on tomorrow’s recipe. Says he’s gotta come up with something even Gupta will like. Hey, Mom, don’t look so disappointed. He definitely wants a rain check.”

Flossie nodded. She put a bony arm around Chili’s shoulder. “Listen honey, you tell your boss that I did his horoscope and he’s due for a big change, so that probably means he’ll win tomorrow.”

“I sure hope so, Grammy. I guess I didn’t help him much today.”

Flossie beamed at her granddaughter and tweaked her cheek. “Oh yes you did, darling, I saw you on TV. You were his little ray of sunshine.”

Sterling grunted, “Caesar probably would have won if he wasn’t wearing that stupid Roman dress. A man can’t cook without a proper pair of pants on.”

CHAPTER 27

A satisfied smile played around Sterling’s lips. Three encores and the audience was still clapping. Bells were ringing...and ringing...and...
Wait! It’s the damned telephone.
He reached for the receiver and barked, “Yeah. Speak up.”

“Sterling. Good, I was afraid that you were still asleep.” Flossie’s reedy voice brought him back to reality.

“Good Lord, woman. What time is it?” He rolled over, willing his heavy lids to open. It was still dark outside.

“It’s six. Now listen, Sterling. I was up all night worrying about Caesar and our sweet little Chili. We’ve got to find out what’s going on, but if the girls catch us we’re dead ducks.”

Sterling answered with a loud yawn and held the receiver away from his ear.

“Damn it, you old coot,” she screeched, “get your
tuckas
in gear. This is serious. We’ve got to get out before Godiva and Goldie can stop us.”

“Okay, okay. Hold your horses. I need a few minutes to wake up, and just so you know, you totally destroyed a three-encore dream. I mean, how often did that happen?”

“Sorry. Maybe tonight you can pick it up where you left off. In the meantime, get into those hideous overalls and don’t shave. The seedier, the better. I’ve already got my designer K-Mart housedress on with rolled down stockings and orthopedic shoes. Maybe I’ll top it off with a babushka turban.” Her voice lowered, making her sound like a character in a bad movie. “We’ll rendezvous at the garage at six-thirty.”

The two frumpy looking conspirators met between Sterling’s cottage and Flossie’s guesthouse. After loading all their cleaning equipment into the trunk, they settled themselves in the behemoth ’59 Caddy and set out for Food Broadcasting. The sun was just spreading a soft orange glow across the horizon.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Flossie, if Godiva or Goldie even had an inkling of what you’re getting us into, I think they would hide my car keys. I don’t know how I let you drag me into these things.”

“Stuff it, Sterling. Be a
mensch
. Besides, you know you love a little adventure. My girls aren’t the only ones who can poke around and dig up the dirt. You and I do a pretty darn good job, if I do say so myself.” She preened. “You think it might be hereditary?”

“Nah, they weren’t born with it, they learned from our goofy family. How could anybody grow up normal with relatives like us?” They pulled into the studio parking lot. “Okay. Here goes nothing. You push the vacuum, I’ll get the cart with the pail and mop.”

The back service entrance was already open for early morning deliveries. They sauntered down the hall as though they did this every morning and stopped at the door with the preposterous crossed broccoli coat of arms. Sterling gently nudged it open, hoping no one was there. Flossie pulled the vacuum in behind him and shut the door, but left the lights off in the dim outer office.

“Well, old girl,” Sterling stage-whispered. “What are we actually looking for? Have we figured that out yet?”

“What’s to figure, Sterling? How should I know what this
schmuck
is up to? If we find something we’ll know. You look through those drawers and I’ll tackle the office.”

Her hand was on the knob, just about to slip into Wellington’s private office, when the outer door opened unexpectedly. They could see the thin, backlit silhouette of Chris Cross in the opening. Sterling had the presence of mind to appear busy by emptying a wastebasket into the bag on his cart.

Before Chris had time to turn on the lights, Biff Wellington burst in with his assistant in tow, almost knocking the scrawny young man over. Sterling and Flossie slipped behind the door to the inner office leaving it ajar so they could peek out.

Candy whined about having to get up so early, but Wellington turned on her like an angry grizzly bear.

“Shut up, you ditz. I don’t need your caterwauling along with everything else. I told you, this is the big day and I’m going to make damn sure that I take the prize in spite of the idiots that surround me.”

A stunned Chris backed into view of the old snoops. They could see that Biff, who was almost twice his size, had practically pinned the frightened young man against the wall. “What the Hell are you doing here so early, you anemic piss-ant?”

He threw his hands up, declaring his innocence. “Gee, I’m sorry if I upset you, Mr. Wellington. I just thought I’d see if I could help. We’re sort of a family here, aren’t we?”

Wellington mocked him in the falsetto tones of a schoolyard bully. “
I just thought I’d see if I could help
. What on God’s green earth could a worm like you do to help except to shut up and go home until I’m done in here? I can’t stand the sight of you, you underdeveloped twit. You want to help? Get me the damn file I left on my desk last night.
Any
idiot can do that, right?
Move!
” His voice raised a notch. “Why is it so friggin’ dark in here? Hasn’t anyone heard about that wonderful invention called
electricity
?”

A shaken Chris burst into Wellington’s inner office and groped for the light switch. Flossie and Sterling froze, exposed in the open doorway. Wellington bellowed at Candy, his face turning so red it almost looked purple. The distorted veins throbbed as though they might burst.

“Oy vey
!” Flossie gasped then quickly slapped her hand over her mouth.

Wellington whipped around, noticing the shabby looking old timers. His fierce glare would have frightened Attila the Hun. “What is this, a damned old age home? Where’s that wetback that I threw out yesterday?” He charged at them. “You’d think they could get me a decent janitor service, but no. Now they’re hiring doddering refugees from the Last Roundup Rest Home.” He jerked a blunt thumb over a well-defined shoulder. “Get your bony asses out of my office or I’ll throw you out. Hear? Go work on Romano’s set and screw something up over there.”