Read Online Murder and Marinara by Rosie Genova - Free Book Online Page B

do you see?” I whispered.
    â€œOh my God!” Sofia’s voice rose to a squeal. “It’s Nina LaGuardia!”
    â€œWill you keep your voice down?” I shoved my face further into the blinds, the metal edges digging sharply into my nose. “Who’s Nina LaGuardia?”
    â€œGod, Vic, you live under a rock. She’s the new Channel Ten anchor.” Sofia lifted the blind a fraction. “Oooh, I love her dress.”
    â€œWill you forget the dress?” I hissed. “What is she saying?”
    She shook her head. “I can’t make it out. But it looks like she’s practicing. She’s really pretty in person.”
    My knees were getting numb and my face was marked with dirt from the window. I turned around to sit with my back against the wall and rubbed my sore nose. “There’s got to be some way to make them leave.”
    She shot me a sly, sideways glance. “We could call Danny.”
    â€œWe could. But then he’d have to meet the lovely Nina. And for all you know, she might have a weakness for men in uniform.”
    â€œNever mind.” She scrambled to her feet. “Let’s just sneak out the back door.”
    I stood up and groaned, my calves tight from the unaccustomed biking. “Well, I’m gonna jump in the shower.”
    â€œWhy? What are you doing?” She looked at me as I trudged up the stairs.
    I stopped with my hand on the rail and turned back to look at her. “What do you think? I’m getting ready for my close-up.”

Chapter Six
    A fter managing to escape the zombies in one piece, I jumped into my car and headed into town. It was a gray day, and the low clouds threatened rain. The streets were quiet after yesterday’s crowds. I pulled into the restaurant with trepidation. My hands shook a little as I got out of the car, and I hesitated in front of the big wooden doors.
I can turn around now
.
I can be back on the Parkway in fifteen minutes.
But could I really leave my family at the mercy of Nina LaGuardia and the rest of the media? That van would likely end up here sooner or later, and how would that affect our business? Besides that, my curiosity was getting the better of me—what
had
happened to Gio Parisi?
    When I stepped inside the restaurant, something felt off. It was just too quiet. Instead of the usual bustle of lunch prep—the clank of pots, the whoosh of the swinging kitchen doors, the calls of the deliverymen, there was only silence.
    â€œTim? Massimo? Anybody here?”
    â€œJust me.” Tim came through the kitchen doors, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his apron. One dark curl had escaped from his bandanna; his jacket sleeves were rolled up to reveal his forearms—as Tim’s body parts go, two of my all-time faves—and I took a nice cleansing breath. Luckily, the sight of his orange kitchen clogs brought me to my senses.
    â€œWhere is everybody? Are you doing lunch all by yourself?”
    â€œLooks like it.” He gestured toward my mother’s precious black book. “We had a bunch of cancellations, so I’m just doing the minimum.”
    â€œOh God. Is it happening already?”
    â€œI guess so. I had Mr. B bring me about half the regular produce, and the butcher’s been here. I mean, we needed stuff because the cops cleaned us out.” He shrugged. “I just don’t know how much of it we’ll use.”
    I glanced toward the bar. “Is Cal in today?”
    â€œI don’t keep tabs on Lockhart. Anyway, the guy keeps whatever hours he wants. He’s been and gone already this morning.”
    â€œWell, he can’t work when we have customers, right? So that leaves Mondays, early mornings, and the gap between lunch and dinner service.” As I spoke, I flashed back to the day before; Cal was in the restaurant while Parisi ate, and I remembered Tim’s words:
Keep Lockhart out of my kitchen.
Why would Cal have