Italian Wedding Murder: Book 4 in Papa Pacelli's Pizzeria Series Page 2

  “What now, Ms. Pacelli?” Iris asked. She was holding an empty container of punch, having just filled up the large bowl next to the pizza buffet.

  “I think that’s it,” Ellie said, looking around. “Just in time, too. Guests have already started arriving.”

  In no time at all, the pizzeria was filled to the brim. Clara, who had volunteered for the job of leading curious customers around the pizzeria and pointing out the various photographs while telling them about noteworthy points in its history, was already looking frazzled. Jacob was at the door, taking money from the buffet and asking people if they wanted to buy tickets to the raffle, while Rose and Iris — who they had discovered had a gift for cooking - manned the kitchen. Ellie was in the dining area mingling with her guests; a job she usually loved, but today was finding a bit overwhelming. There were just so many people. She was glad when she saw her grandmother’s familiar face through the crowd.

  “Ellie, it’s just wonderful!” the elderly woman said.

  “Thanks, Nonna. You helped a lot with those photos.” She smiled at her grandmother, then turned her attention to the woman next to her. “Thanks for driving my grandmother over here, Gertie. I know she appreciates it.”

  “Oh, she does plenty for me. Besides, she promised me one of her famous pies after this, isn’t that right, Ann?”

  “If you’ve got any room left after digging into the buffet. I saw how you were eying those pizzas,” Nonna said.

  Ellie smiled, touched at the sight of the two old woman who had quite obviously known each other for years. She wondered if she would have friends like that when she was her grandmother’s age. She had lost touch with most of her friends from Chicago when she moved away, having been too embarrassed to keep up with them after losing both her fiancé and her job in the same day. She might well still be friends with Shannon in forty years, and possibly one or two of the other ladies in their loosely knit group, if she ever had the spare time it would take to get to know them better.

  “You two help yourselves. You should take a look at the photos, Nonna. They turned out so well, I think I’ll keep them up for good. Clara’s giving tours, if you can find her. Oh, and Rose and Iris — she’s the new employee, you should go meet her — are going to bring out an Italian wedding themed pizza for the buffet soon. Be sure to save some space for that.”

  Ellie was eager to try the pizza herself. It had been Rose’s idea, based off of Italian wedding soup. It was a thin crust pizza with garlic sauce, small turkey-and-beef meatballs, kale, and spinach covered with Parmesan and asiago cheeses. Her employees had made one to taste test it themselves over the weekend, but she had yet to try a slice.

  “Pardon me, but are you Ms. Pacelli?”

  Both she and her grandmother looked around. The woman who had spoken was looking at Ellie, so she was the one to respond.

  “Yes, I’m Eleanora Pacelli. How may I help, you, Ms.…?”

  “Martin. Laura Martin,” the woman said. She indicated the woman beside her, who could have been her twin. “And this is my sister, Grace.”

  Martin… the surname sounded familiar, but Ellie couldn’t remember where she had heard it. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Martin. Welcome to Papa Pacelli’s. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering, would you mind taking a picture with my husband and I? For the paper, of course.”

  “Um, sure. I’d be happy to.” She smiled, though she was still at a complete loss as to who the woman actually was.

  “Wonderful. My husband should be here soon, then we can get started.”

  Ellie watched as the woman walked over to the buffet table. Martin… where on Earth had she heard that name?

  “That’s the mayor’s wife,” her grandmother whispered, nudging her with her elbow. “You’re going to be in the paper with the mayor and his wife. This is going to be wonderful for the restaurant.”

  Shannon had warned her, or rather, promised her that someone from the newspaper would be there to take pictures, and she would do a follow-up article on the pizzeria’s twentieth anniversary. Ellie had dressed accordingly, and was doubly glad that she had worn something nicer than her normal work clothes now that she knew she would be pictured with the mayor.

  It wasn’t long before Laura Martin found her again, this time accompanied by a man that Ellie recognized instantly — the mayor. He was a distinguished looking man, maybe a decade older than her, in a nice suit and tie. She quickly put down the piece of Italian wedding pizza that she had just bitten into and handed the plate to Clara. Wiping her face with a napkin, she swallowed the bite of pizza as quickly as she dared then cleared her throat and took the man’s proffered hand.

  “Eleanora Pacelli,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Mayor. Welcome to Papa Pacelli’s.”

  “Oh, call me Ambrose. Or Mr. Martin, if you prefer. I was a friend of your grandfather’s. Arthur Pacelli was a good man. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Martin. It’s been very hard on my grandmother. I didn’t know him very well, myself, unfortunately.”

  “I’ll be sure to see Ann before I go and give her my condolences as well. Now, how about that picture for the paper? I’m eager to give that buffet table a spin, but I wouldn’t want to be pictured on the front page with pizza sauce on my shirt, would I?”

  He chuckled, then waved his hand. A young man with a camera shouldered a couple of people aside. The mayor tugged Ellie and his wife over so they were standing in front of the register, under the hanging banner. He put an arm around his wife, and laid the other hand on the pizzeria manager’s shoulder.

  “Say cheese,” the photographer said dryly. Ellie smiled just as the camera went off with a flash. The photographer checked the screen, then gave them a thumbs up. “All set, Mr. Mayor.”

  “Thanks, Rufus,” the mayor said, dismissing the photographer. “Now, let’s go enjoy some of that pizza, my dear.”

  With that, the Martins made their way back over to the buffet table. Ellie watched them, feeling happy. This party was turning out to be a huge success; she had Shannon to thank for that. If her friend hadn’t reminded her of the anniversary, well, then none of this would have happened. This would just be a day like any other.

  The good mood lasted only a few more minutes. Just as Iris was bringing a second Italian wedding pizza out of the back, a loud groan accompanied by a crashing sound made the entire restaurant go silent. As one, the guests turned to look.

  The pizza buffet table had been knocked over, and the mayor’s wife was lying next to it, holding her stomach and groaning. The mayor crouched down next to her, looking panicked.

  “Someone call an ambulance. Hurry!”

  He helped his wife sit up. Ellie could see even from this distance that she was pale. Her hands still clutched at her stomach. She looked around until her eyes landed on the pizzeria manager.

  “She did this!” she gasped. “The pizza… it’s poisoned!”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  * * *

  Ellie groaned and slapped at her nightstand, trying to silence her bleating alarm. When she finally hit the right button and it fell silent, she slitted her eyes open. It was morning. The worst day of her life was officially over, but it was doubtful that this new one would be any better.

  “Oh goodness, Bunny. Please tell me that yesterday was a dream.”

  The little dog wagged her tail, not sure why her owner was upset, but eager to do what she could to cheer her up. It didn’t work this time, though.

  “Oh my goodness,” Ellie repeated, rolling over and pulling the pillow over her eyes as the events from yesterday’s disastrous pizza party rushed through her mind. After the mayor’s wife had been carted away in an ambulance, there had been no salvaging the event. People hadn’t been able to get out of the restaurant fast enough. They hadn’t even been able to do the raffle.

  “Ellie?” her grandmother called, rapping lightly at the bedroom door. “Are you awake, dear? I brought you tea and
toast.”

  Only the fact that Nonna had made the long climb up the stairway just to bring her food made Ellie get out of bed. “Nonna, you shouldn’t have come up here without help,” she said, opening the bedroom door. “And definitely not carrying a tray. Here, give me that.”

  She took the tea tray from her grandmother and placed it on her bed, then took the older woman’s arm and helped her towards the stairs.

  “I just wanted to help,” Nonna said. “I knew you were feeling bad. What happened yesterday wasn’t your fault at all.”

  “I just don’t understand what happened,” Ellie sighed. “Everyone else was fine after eating the pizzas. I had some, and I’m fine. Do you think she might have been allergic to one of the ingredients?”

  “I don’t know,” her grandmother said, slowly and carefully easing herself down onto the first step. One of her hands gripped the banister, and the other, Ellie’s arm. “Maybe it was her appendix.” She gave her granddaughter a sly look. “Or maybe she was faking it.”

  “Why on earth would she fake that?” Ellie asked. “The photographer was still there. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would want a photo of herself laying on the floor plastered all over the newspapers.”

  “Oh, that woman always has something up her sleeve to boost her family’s publicity. Last election, she had a series of fainting spells, and they always seemed to happen just when Mayor Martin’s opponent was in the middle of giving a speech.”

  “That’s horrible of her. She shouldn’t fake an illness just for attention. But I don’t think that’s what it was this time, Nonna. I just don’t see how collapsing in the middle of a pizza parlor could benefit her in the slightest.”

  “You may be right, dear. I’m just saying she recovered mighty quickly, that’s all.” They had reached the bottom of the stairs, and Ellie let go of her arm.

  “You heard something?” she asked.

  “It was in the paper this morning,” the older woman said.

  “Where is it? I want to see.”

  “Ellie…” Nonna hesitated. “I don’t think you do.”

  “What could be so bad? You said she recovered, right?”

  The older woman nodded.

  “Then what is it?”

  “The paper’s in the kitchen,” her grandmother said at last, sighing. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Ellie hurried to the kitchen, where she saw the morning’s newspaper open next to her grandmother’s half-empty coffee cup. She grabbed and began scanning the pages for the story. It didn’t take long; it was on the very front page. Event at Local Pizzeria Goes Terribly Wrong. The story went on to detail how the mayor’s wife had collapsed during Papa Pacelli’s twentieth anniversary party, and had to be taken to the nearest hospital by ambulance. According to the article, she had been discharged just a few hours later, still shaky but mostly recovered. They were calling it food poisoning which, as far as Ellie was concerned, was only slightly better than actual poisoning. The only good thing about the article was that it wasn’t written by Shannon.

  “I can’t believe this,” she said, putting down the paper. “This is going to be terrible for the pizzeria.”

  “Oh, you never know. Some people don’t read their papers,” her grandmother said, coming into the kitchen.

  “Most do. And if people believe this, that the mayor’s wife got food poisoning from Papa Pacelli’s… well, who’s going to want to eat there?”

  “This will blow over,” the elderly woman said, but she didn’t sound as certain as she had before.

  “I need to go see Shannon. Maybe she can write something in the next paper, another article retracting this one or something.”

  Ellie hurried upstairs to get dressed. She downed the tea that her grandmother had brought her, but the toast was mysteriously missing. Bunny was lying next to the tray, looking at her innocently with crumbs in her beard. Despite herself, she laughed.

  “You little rascal. You always find a way to make me feel better, don’t you? Come on, I’ll take you with me to see Shannon if you promise to stop stealing food. Your vet appointment is coming up, and I think you’re getting just a tad bit chunky.”

  Shannon, who must have been one of the first to read the article, told Ellie to come over right away. When she got there, her friend wrapped her in a hug, then invited her and Bunny into the kitchen.

  “James left for work already, but he wanted me to tell you that he doesn’t think for a heartbeat that Ms. Martin had food poisoning. I was just getting ready to call you. I would have done so earlier, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “I just don’t understand it, Shannon. Was she really sick, or was she trying to wreck the pizzeria’s reputation for some reason?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll do my best to see if I can find out. In the meantime, come on in. We have muffins, or I could defrost you a bagel if you’d like — James buys them in bulk and freezes them, for some reason. I can’t stand the things myself.”

  “A muffin would be great,” Ellie said. “I haven’t eaten yet. Bunny got my toast.”

  Within minutes, the two women were sitting in Shannon’s kitchen, and Ellie was spreading butter on half of a reheated cinnamon muffin. Bunny was sniffing around the strange kitchen, her tail wagging a mile a minute as she vacuumed up every last crumb from underneath the breakfast table.

  “So,” Shannon began. “The article. I’m so sorry, Ellie. I refused to write it for them, but that didn’t stop them from getting someone else to do it. I told them it wasn’t food poisoning. You wouldn’t serve bad food.”

  “This is going to be terrible for the pizzeria.” Ellie put down her muffin and rested her head in her hands. “I just can’t believe this. Do you think there’s any way we could get Ms. Martin to say it wasn’t food poisoning? Maybe she has some sort of stomach condition, or… or ate something bad earlier in the day.”

  “I don’t know,” her friend said. “She seemed pretty adamant that she got sick from the food at the pizzeria. She gave a statement right after she got out of the hospital.”

  “Well maybe —”

  Shannon’s cell phone rang, cutting Ellie off mid-sentence. The journalist gave her an apologetic look, then answered it.

  “What is it, Russ?”

  That must be Sheriff Ward, Ellie thought. I wonder if he’s read the article yet?

  “Oh my goodness, really?” Shannon paused. “Actually, she’s here right now. Yeah, I’ll send her over. Thanks for the heads up.”

  She hung up and put her phone down slowly.

  “Ellie, Russell needs to see you at the sheriff’s department.”

  “Okay, but why —”

  “Laura Martin’s body has just been found. She’s dead, Ellie. The mayor’s wife is dead.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  * * *

  Ellie drove to the sheriff’s department in a daze. Ms. Martin was dead? Oh my goodness, she thought, if she died from food poisoning, then this will be the end of the pizzeria. What if she really did get some sort of bad food from Papa Pacelli’s? It didn’t seem possible, but she hadn’t been in the kitchen the whole time. Had one of her employees made a fatal mistake with the food? If so, then why hadn’t anyone else gotten sick?

  “Eleanora Pacelli here to see Russell Ward,” she said to the secretary when she got there. Bunny was on her leash at her side. She had been in too much of a hurry to drop the dog off at home before stopping to see Sheriff Ward.

  “I’ll let the sheriff know, ma’am,” the lady said, giving the little dog a curious look but not commenting on her. “Please take a seat.”

  In no time at all, Russell made his appearance. He beckoned to her and lead her towards his office, pausing to pat Bunny on her head. She saved her questions until he had shut the door behind them.

  “Wha—”

  He held up a hand. “Wait, Eleanora. I have to ask you something first.” He took a deep breath. “Did you have anything to do with the death of
Laura Martin?”

  “No! At least… at least, I don’t think so.”

  The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the usual answer I get from suspects.”

  “Am I a suspect?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Officially, you are a person of interest. I’m sure you understand, after what happened yesterday…”