The Case of Italian Indigestion Read online

  Ingredients

  4.5 ounces toasted and ground almonds

  9 ounces dark chocolate

  4.5 ounces butter

  4 eggs

  6 ounces sugar

  1 tablespoon Amaretto

  Instructions

  Preheat oven to 350F/ 180C

  Toast the almonds on the stove or in the oven using very low heat. When completely toasted, grind almonds and half the sugar in a grinder or blender.

  Melt the butter and chocolate in a bowl over a simmering pot of water. Set aside to cool until lukewarm.

  Separate the eggs, reserving the whites.

  Beat the yolks with the remaining sugar until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is thick and creamy.

  Add the toasted almond “flour” first, then incorporate the egg mixture, melted butter and chocolate, and Amaretto.

  Beat the egg whites until stiff and gently fold into the mixture. The consistency of the cake batter should be thick but still pourable.

  Pour the mixture into a 12-inch, non-stick springform pan. (Or cover bottom and sides of pan with parchment.) It should only be the width of a couple of fingers.

  Bake for 25-30 minutes. Test for doneness with a toothpick. Torta Barozzi should have a thin, dry crust with a moist center. (A bit ‘gooey’ is just fine.)

  Gently remove from pan and let cool before cutting. If you’re not eating it right away, wrap the cake in foil.

  To serve, cut into small squares and top with powdered sugar, a dollop of whipped cream, or fresh berries of your choice. (Cut the cake carefully using a serrated knife. It can be a bit fragile.)

  Pane Dei Morti (Bread of the Dead)

  Ingredients

  6 ounces amaretti biscuits (1)

  12 ounces ladyfinger biscuits (1)

  1 cup almonds (2)

  1 cup pine nuts (2)

  ½ cup dried figs

  ½ cup raisins

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  6 large egg whites

  1 ½ cups sugar

  ½ cup cocoa powder

  ½ cup Vin Santo or another sweet dessert wine

  1 tsp. baking powder

  1 tsp. ground cinnamon

  ¼ tsp. ground nutmeg

  Pinch of salt

  Powdered sugar, for dusting

  Amount of each biscuit can be modified to taste as long as the total weight isn’t exceeded.

  Amount of nuts can be adjusted down slightly according to taste.

  Over time, you’ll figure out your preferred balance.

  Instructions

  Preheat the oven to 350 F. Line baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.

  In a food processor, grind the amaretti biscuits, the ladyfinger biscuits, and the almonds into a flour. Add the figs and process until a clumpy dough forms.

  In a large mixing bowl, combine the biscuit, almond and fig dough with the raisins, flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt and whole pine nuts. Using your hands, work the ingredients together until completely incorporated.

  Add the egg whites and dessert wine to the bowl and mix well.

  Shape the cookies: scoop out a golf ball-sized portion of dough and shape each one into a flat, oval biscuit. Place the biscuits on the prepared baking sheet, leaving space between them.

  Bake for 30-35 minutes or until slightly puffed and crisp. Cookies should be a darkish brown color and set. Lift one up carefully with a spatula and check to make sure the bottom side is cooked.

  Place cookies on a cooling rack and allow to cool before sifting the icing sugar on top.

  Chapter 8

  Josie cast a loving stare at the collection of dishes then spotted the one she was looking for. She helped herself to a generous portion then settled back into her seat. She was about to take her first bite when she caught the look Chef Claire was giving her.

  “What?” Josie said, raising an eyebrow at her.

  “Nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t be a very good classmate if I didn’t try everyone’s dish,” Josie said.

  “I see. So, you’re taking one for the team?”

  “Exactly,” Josie said, then slid a forkful of penne tossed in a pesto sauce into her mouth. “This is fantastic.”

  “Thank you,” Betty Smithsonian said from the other side of the table. “I was worried I used too much garlic.”

  “It’s perfect,” Josie said, stabbing more of the dish with her fork.

  “As soon as you’ve all finished eating, we’ll head out to the veranda. It seems to have warmed up a bit, and the view of the fireworks is much better out there,” Marco said, then raised his glass in toast. “I’d like to salute all of you. You did a great job on your dishes.”

  Everyone clinked glasses and sat back in their chairs, full but content. Gradually, people began filing out of the dining room onto the veranda. Josie polished off the last of her penne and exhaled as she pushed the plate away.

  “Did you save room for dessert?” Chef Claire said.

  “Rhetorical, right?” Josie said, then glanced down the table where Marco and Rosa were sitting. “Can we help you clean up?”

  “No, thanks, Josie,” Rosa said. “While we want everyone to feel at home, you are all still guests. Enrico and the rest of the staff will take care of it.”

  “Okay,” Josie said, getting up from the table. “Are you ready, Chef Claire? Limoncello and dessert await.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” Chef Claire said, shaking her head as she stood up. “Thanks again, guys. It was a great meal.”

  “It was a lot of pasta,” Marco said, laughing as he gestured for everyone to head outside.

  “Are you coming, Bronwyn?” Chef Claire said to the woman sitting next to her.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, toying with the remnants on her plate.

  Josie and Chef Claire headed for the outside doors. Josie glanced over her shoulder at Bronwyn who continued to sit quietly staring off into the distance.

  “Is she okay?” Josie whispered.

  “She and Emerson had a huge fight right before dinner,” Chef Claire whispered back. “He told her he wants to take a little break.”

  “A break from her?”

  “Yeah,” Chef Claire said. “Emerson is convinced there’s still something going on between her and Georgio.”

  “What do you think?”

  Chef Claire shrugged then stretched out in a lounge chair.

  “Anything is possible,” she said. “I think all three of them have some sort of weird love-hate thing going.”

  “Something about this group is bugging me,” Josie said, stretching out in the lounger next to Chef Claire.

  “How so?” Chef Claire said, glancing over.

  “Well, there’s the connection between Georgio and Emerson. If Georgio invents weapons and crap like that, it probably means Emerson’s company is manufacturing some of them.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Chef Claire said. “I thought the FBI and CIA were all over black market weapons.”

  “I’m sure they are,” Josie said. “Unless they’re working with our government.”

  “You mean, selling stuff to people who are currently on our side?”

  “Yeah. You know how all that works.”

  “Thankfully, I don’t,” Chef Claire said. “But I understand the basics. Today’s best buddy is tomorrow’s terrorist.”

  “Exactly. And what the heck is Natalie doing here?” Josie said. “She’s supposed to be retired.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Chef Claire said. “But I never bought that story. It was pretty clear from our time in Vegas she was still involved in all sorts of stuff. And I sure don’t buy the idea she and Georgio are a couple.”

  “It’s probably just a casual thing,” Josie said.

  “Like us, I don’t think Natalie does casual,” Chef Claire said, shaking her head. “And I seriously doubt if she’s here just to learn how to make pasta.”

  “I did li
ke the dish she made,” Josie said.

  “You liked them all.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, the ones I had were good. But I didn’t try the surfer dude’s dish. I saw the look on Betty’s face when she tasted it,” Chef Claire said, nodding.

  “It was edible. Barely.”

  “Natalie is up to something.”

  “I’m getting a weird vibe from a couple of other people,” Josie said.

  “Which ones?” Chef Claire whispered, glancing around as she sat up on the lounge chair.

  “Well, for one, the surfer dude,” Josie said. “Something about him really bugs me. He’s always hovering.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “And there’s something about Betty that bothers me,” Josie said.

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s compulsively sweet and nice,” Josie said.

  “She’s Canadian. What else would you expect?”

  “No, I get all that,” Josie said, shaking her head. “But her niceness is disarming. And she’s always following up with questions.”

  “She is in cooking school,” Chef Claire said. “She’s supposed to ask a lot of questions.”

  “No, I heard her talking with Georgio over dinner. And while she was positively sweet the whole time, she was definitely pumping him for information.”

  “Well, Bronwyn did say that Georgio was definitely going to try to get his hooks into her,” Chef Claire said. “Maybe it’s working.”

  “Maybe. But I think something’s lurking below the surface.”

  “Lurking?” Chef Claire said, laughing.

  “Yeah, lurking is the word for it.”

  “You’ve been listening to Suzy too much,” Chef Claire said. “Which reminds me, we need to give her a call tonight.”

  They both sat up when they heard a woman scream. Everyone on the veranda raced inside and found Rosa in the dining room standing over Bronwyn who was laying on the tile with a smile frozen on her face. The top three buttons of her blouse were undone, and her lips, freshly painted with bright-red lipstick, were puckered.

  “Bronwyn,” Emerson said, kneeling down to get a close look at his wife.

  “What the heck?” Chef Claire said.

  “This is not good,” Josie whispered as she stared down at the lifeless woman.

  “Let me take a look,” Natalie said, shouldering her way through the group. She knelt down, pressed her fingers against Bronwyn’s neck then shook her head. “I’m sorry. But she’s gone.”

  “No,” Emerson whispered. “It’s not possible.”

  He started to reach for his wife, but Natalie stopped him by gently placing a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t touch her,” Natalie said.

  “What?” Emerson said, glaring at the Russian woman.

  “She’s right,” Betty said. “The paramedics need to take a look before you move her. And maybe the police.”

  “What the heck happened?” Marco said to Rosa.

  “I have no idea,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was heading outside to watch the fireworks, and I just happened to see her out of the corner of my eye.”

  “We need to call the police,” Marco said, patting his pockets in search of his phone.

  “I’ll make the call,” Georgio said. Obviously shaken, he grabbed his phone off the table and punched in a number. “I need to report a death. Yes, I’ll hold.”

  “Or maybe more than just a death,” Josie whispered to Chef Claire.

  “You’re thinking murder?” Chef Claire whispered back.

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I was trying not to think about it.”

  “Good luck with that,” Josie said, taking a final look at the woman sprawled out on the floor.

  Chapter 9

  Commissario Bruno was a tall, rumpled man somewhere in his thirties who seemingly had perpetual fatigue etched on his face. It was the look of someone who either spent way too much time working or had a newborn baby at home. Judging by the deep, dark circles around his eyes, perhaps it was both. But it was his companion that captured Josie’s attention. She shrieked when she first noticed him and bent down to welcome the visitor. The dog returned the greeting and wagged his tail.

  “You’ve got a Newfie,” Josie said, hugging the dog.

  “Si,” he said, nodding as he studied the look of joy on Josie’s face.

  “He’s gorgeous,” she said, getting to her feet but continuing to rub the dog’s head. “I have one as well.”

  “Il suo nome è Rico,” the detective said.

  “How’s your Italian, Marco?” Josie said with a frown as she looked to him for translation help.

  “The dog’s name is Rico,” Marco said, then turned to the detective. “Commissario, most of the people here are English speakers. It might be easier for everyone if we could talk in English.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, nodding. “I’m fluent. I’m Commissario Bruno. And you are?”

  “I’m Marco Columbo. This is my wife, Rosa. We own the villa and run the cooking school.”

  “Yes, La Bella Vita,” he said, glancing around. “I’ve heard about this place and have always wanted to see it.” He knelt down over Bronwyn’s body, checked for a pulse then got to his feet. “Just not under circumstances like this.” He reached into his shirt pocket and grabbed his phone. “I need to make a call. But I will need to speak with all of you.” He glanced back and forth at Marco and Rosa. “Is there another room we could use? Some other people will be arriving soon, and they will need room to work.”

  “Let’s use the sitting room,” Marco said to Rosa.

  She nodded and motioned for everyone to follow her.

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” Commissario Bruno said, reaching down to pet the Newfie before making the call.

  Josie and Chef Claire sat down on a couch. They glanced around at the look of shock on everyone’s face.

  “The Newfie could be Captain’s twin,” Chef Claire said.

  “He’s beautiful,” Josie said. “And it makes me miss Captain even more.”

  “Yeah, the Goldens have had the same effect on me,” Chef Claire said, then frowned. “If it wasn’t natural causes, who do you think might have killed her?”

  “I have no idea,” Josie said. “She was totally self-absorbed but seemed harmless. And what’s the deal with her blouse being half-undone and all the lipstick?”

  “I don’t think you’re the only one asking that question,” Chef Claire said, nodding across the room where Emerson was giving Georgio a hostile glare. “Emerson seems to think she tarted herself up for Georgio.”

  “Tarted herself up?” Josie said, raising an eyebrow.

  “You know what I mean,” Chef Claire said. “Ruby-red lipstick. Big pouty lips. Showing a lot of cleavage. The come-hither look on her face.”

  “Judging by the expression on her face, if she was getting ready to hook up with Georgio, wouldn’t that mean he was standing right in front of her when it happened?” Josie said.

  “Yeah, it must,” Chef Claire said. “But why would Georgio want to kill her? Since the Kingsleys had decided to take a break from each other, wouldn’t it open up the possibility she and Georgio could rekindle what they had before?”

  “One would think,” Josie said. “Unless Georgio wasn’t interested in getting back together with her.”

  “Maybe Emerson came into the dining room while she was putting her lipstick on and confronted her.”

  “And then she mocked him with that expression?” Josie said, frowning.

  “I guess I can make that work,” Chef Claire said. “But Bronwyn said it was Emerson’s idea to separate. Why would he care?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t the fact she was going to start seeing other people that drove Emerson crazy. Maybe he just hated the idea Georgio was the first person she was heading for.”

  “I don’t know,” Chef Claire said, shaking her head. “But whoever did it had to
have been in a rage, right?”

  “To kill somebody out in the open with a dozen other people nearby? Yeah. Either rage or uncontrollable insanity. There wasn’t any blood. Did you see any wounds or bruises?”

  “No, but I didn’t take a good look,” Chef Claire said. “Did you?”

  “No,” Josie said, shaking her head. “Weird, huh?”

  “Maybe she was poisoned,” Chef Claire said.

  “If someone had given her poison, there’s no way she would have been smiling like that, right?”

  “Unless she was given the poison earlier.”

  Josie stared at Chef Claire then cocked her head.

  “You mean, maybe she was poisoned during dinner?”

  “I don’t know,” Chef Claire said. “I’m just spitballing here.”

  “She died from something she ate tonight?” Josie said. “Now, there’s a cheery thought.”

  “Anything is possible,” Chef Claire said, shrugging. “You didn’t happen to drop your pasta dough on the floor this afternoon, did you?”

  “Funny. Real funny,” Josie said, gently punching Chef Claire on the arm. “Feel my forehead.”

  “What?”

  “Do I feel hot?”

  “Are you feeling sick?”

  “No, but if Bronwyn got poisoned at dinner, I might be in a world of hurt.”

  “Because you sampled every dish?”

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “Maybe it’s just taking me longer to feel the effect. I’ve got a pretty good immune system.”

  “I doubt very much if you’ve been poisoned, Josie.”

  “Feel my head.”

  Chef Claire shook her head but complied. She placed the back of her hand against Josie’s forehead.

  “What did you feel?” Josie said.

  “A vast emptiness.”

  Chapter 10

  Everyone continued to sit quietly until Commissario Bruno returned a few minutes later. He glanced around then selected a spot in front of the fireplace. He removed a notebook from his pocket and leaned against the mantel. Rico, his Newfie, stretched out in front of him and wagged his tail like a metronome as he surveyed the group.