Tiffany and Kat failed to catch the orange tabby, but the exertion from trying had worked up Kat’s appetite. She wolfed down a quick breakfast at Jessie’s before returning home, and by the time Andrew picked her up for lunch she was starving again.
“Fancy place,” Kat said, linking her arm with Andrew’s after they got out of his car and started toward Taste of Tuscany.
“It’s nice to see somebody doing something with this old building,” Andrew replied.
“This used to be a pizza joint, right?” Kat remembered eating there a couple times back when she was a preteen, but she hadn’t ventured out this way since moving back to Cherry Hills this past summer.
“Yep. Mr. P retired a couple years ago and couldn’t find any buyers, so he just shut the whole thing down. Until now.”
Andrew opened the door, releasing a blast of warm air and the mouth-watering aromas of cheese and marinara.
“Wow.” Andrew inhaled. “I can tell you right now, the smell in here alone would start this place off with a solid three stars if I were the one doing the judging.”
The hostess popped up from behind her stand. “Andrew! I thought that was your voice.”
“Hey, Winnie.” Andrew slid his arm around Kat’s waist. “This is my girlfriend, Kat.”
Kat smiled and held out her hand. “Hi.”
Winnie was so short she barely reached Kat’s shoulder, but she had a firm handshake. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Finally?” Kat echoed, wondering what Andrew had been saying about her.
Before she could ask, Winnie dispelled her assumption. “Jessie Polanski talks about you all the time. I started there right after you left, you know.” Winnie laughed. “The way Jessie carried on after you took that programming job, you’d think she’d lost her best friend.”
Kat’s heart swelled with affection for her old boss. Jessie had always treated each of her employees as if they were family.
There was no way she had murdered Aaron Moskowitz.
Winnie looked up at Kat. “I bet Jessie would love to hear from you.”
“I saw her just this morning, actually.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you two hung out. Jessie made it sound like she never saw you anymore.”
Kat was about to tell her they didn’t socialize often, but Winnie continued talking before she could say anything.
“I should give you my key to return to her,” she said.
“Your key?” Kat asked.
“My key to the restaurant. I never gave it back after I quit.” Winnie snatched her purse from behind the hostess stand and started rummaging through it. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, but I keep forgetting.”
Kat was having trouble breathing as she watched Winnie flipping through her keys. If Winnie had access to Jessie’s Diner, it would have been easy for her to sneak in overnight and deposit that peanut oil and EpiPen on the premises.
Or, Kat considered, could someone else at Taste of Tuscany have stolen Winnie’s key? The other employees had to know where she kept her purse. And if one of them wanted revenge badly enough, they could have filched it while she was seating a patron or otherwise away from her post.
Aaron’s derogatory review scrolled through Kat’s head like a news ticker. She didn’t know what Winnie’s motive would be to kill the food critic, but Chef D’Angelo’s was as clear as day.
Except, Kat reminded herself, the key only explained how Chef D’Angelo would have gotten into the restaurant to plant the peanut oil and EpiPen. She was still lost as to how anyone knew Aaron would be visiting Jessie’s yesterday, or how they had managed to get the peanut oil into his milkshake.
“Got it,” Winnie said, peeling one of her keys off the ring and holding it out to Kat.
Kat pocketed the key before Winnie could notice her hand shaking. “I’ll make sure Jessie gets this.”
“Thanks a lot.” Winnie lobbed her purse back under the stand and grabbed two menus. “You guys ready to eat?”
“You betcha,” Andrew said. “Whatever’s cooking smells great.”
“Luigi’s food can’t be beat. And, I’ll give you the best table in the house.”
Winnie led them to a round four-top on the far side of the room. Kat wasn’t sure it was really the best table, but she was pleased with it. It would afford her a good view of the entire restaurant.
Not that there was much to see, Kat thought as she sat down. Other than her and Andrew, the dining area was empty. She could hear noise emanating from the back, but the kitchen wasn’t visible from here.
“Your server will be right over,” Winnie chirped, dropping the menus on their table and wandering off.
Kat only saw one server. He was slouched against the bar counter, his long legs crossed at the ankle as he fiddled with a loose string on his apron. His bored expression didn’t change when he noticed he had customers.
He filled two glasses with water before trudging over. He plunked the glasses in front of them, seemingly oblivious to how water sloshed over the sides. “You ready to order?”
“I am,” Andrew replied, his nose buried in his menu. “Give me an iced tea and the penne pesto chicken.”
Kat had been so busy scoping out the place she hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. She flipped it open and scanned over the first page she saw. “I’ll try the spinach ravioli.”
The server didn’t say anything. He merely scooped up their menus and trundled off.
“Friendly guy,” Andrew commented, taking a sip of his water.
“At first I thought Aaron’s review might be the reason nobody was lunching here on a Saturday, but now I’m thinking the service is more to blame,” Kat said.
“Let’s hope the food’s good.”
As it turned out, the food was delicious. If the items Aaron had critiqued tasted half as decent as her ravioli, Kat couldn’t believe he had found anything to criticize. And, judging by how quiet Andrew was as he worked his way through his chicken dish, his meal had to be as amazing as hers.
She had almost cleaned her plate when a stocky, Italian man wearing a white chef’s apron and hat emerged from the kitchen. He headed in their direction.
“Welcome to Taste of Tuscany,” he said with a slight accent. “I am Luigi D’Angelo.”
Kat perked up. “The chef?”
Luigi nodded. “Yes, yes.”
Kat couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had been wondering if she would have a chance to question Chef D’Angelo about Aaron, and now here he was.
Luigi folded his beefy hands in front of him. “You like the food?”
“Oh, yes.” Kat bobbed her head for emphasis. “Very much so. In fact, I have to say this is the most tender, flavorful ravioli I’ve ever had in my entire life. It’s incredible.”
Luigi beamed. “I so glad. This dish, it is my specialty.”
“Well, it’s delicious.”
Luigi turned toward Andrew. “And you, sir? How you like the chicken?”
Andrew set his fork down. “I like it.”
Luigi’s lips drooped, as though he were disappointed by Andrew’s failure to gush over his meal as effusively as Kat. But he recovered quickly, turning up the wattage on his smile a second later. “You lovebirds, you must try my cheesecake. House specialty. I make it with my own two hands.”
Kat leaned back in her chair. “I’m not sure I could eat another bite.”
Luigi flapped his hand. “No, you must eat. My treat.”
Kat wasn’t going to argue. If she had to force something else into her overstuffed stomach, it might as well be cheesecake.
Luigi took a step back. “I get Bruno to bring you the cheesecake. You two lovebirds enjoy the day.”
Kat jerked upright. “Chef D’Angelo?”
He halted. “Yes?”
Kat racked her brain for something to say to keep him from leaving. “Uh, I was thinking, maybe you could give me your ravioli recipe.”
“Ah.” He wagged his finger at her, a twinkle in his eye. “You want to steal my secrets, yes?”
“It’s just so yummy.”
Luigi puffed up his chest. “Then you come back. You become repeat customer. I would like that very much.”
Kat nodded. “Maybe next time I’ll order the eggplant parmigiana.”
“Yes, yes. Eggplant parmigiana is very good. It is my specialty. I get eggplant imported fresh every day.”
Kat wasn’t sure what ‘imported fresh’ meant exactly, but neither did she want to get sidetracked by a lengthy explanation. “I actually read a review of that particular dish just last week.”
Luigi froze. Across the table, she noticed Andrew’s eyebrows creeping a little farther up his forehead as he lifted his water glass to his lips.
“The reviewer was this guy who recently started working for the Cherry Hills Courant.” Kat turned toward Andrew. “Do you remember his name, honey?”
Andrew nearly choked on his water. Maybe she should have gone over this script with him beforehand, she considered. She wasn’t used to bringing him along when she interrogated potential murder suspects.
But, as it turned out, Andrew’s participation in this charade wasn’t necessary. Luigi shouted out the answer before Andrew could even recover his composure. “You are talking about that . . . that cretin Aaron Moskowitz!”
Kat snapped her fingers. “Yes! That’s his name.”
Luigi’s face turned red. “He is horrible man. More vile than rotten tomatoes.”
“I agree his review wasn’t very favorable.”
“He take away my business!” Luigi’s mouth puckered as if he were thinking of spitting on their table. “He dishonor my nonna and the recipes she pass down to me. It is my fervent wish that he end up on street, living out of cardboard box and eating trash from the garbage can!”
Kat did her best to keep her expression neutral despite how her heart had started hammering. Across from her, she noticed Andrew scooting his chair away from the angry chef.
“My nonna, she is rolling over in the grave over Aaron Moskowitz!” Luigi went on. A vein pulsed in the middle of his forehead. “He is terrible, terrible man.” He muttered something in Italian that Kat didn’t understand, but she didn’t need a translation to figure out its meaning.
However, although Luigi clearly didn’t care for Aaron, his reference to the deceased in the present tense gave Kat pause. Did he think the restaurant critic was still alive, or was his choice of words merely a side effect of English being his second language?
Before Kat could ask, Luigi stomped off, steam practically coming out of his ears. She flinched when he shoved the swinging door leading into the kitchen with so much force that it crashed into the wall. The door continued to swing violently long after Luigi disappeared behind it.
Andrew balled up his napkin and set it on his plate. “Well, I’m going to take a wild guess and assume he won’t be telling Bruno to bring you that cheesecake anytime soon.”
Kat gave him a rueful smile. She had the same feeling.