Free A Dish Best Served Cold: An Italian Kitchen Mystery (Italian Kitchen Mystery, An) by Rosie Genova Page B

serve food. If I charged my laptop at the Casa Lido, I’d have a couple of hours of writing time when I came home.
I can deal with this,
I thought,
as long as I can blow-dry my hair somewhere.
    After a quick shower (thank you, natural gas) I hopped on the beat-up Schwinn I used to get around town. I wasn’t the best of bike riders anyway, and the weight of my laptop in the basket made it hard to balance. Making my wobbly way down Ocean Avenue, I waved to store owners as they cleaned up their sidewalks. I stopped at the Seaside Apothecary, where Iris had put a WE’RE STILL OPEN sign in her window. The old-fashioned bell over the door tinkled when I pushed it open.
    Iris, in skinny jeans and a white T-shirt, stepped out from behind the counter with a smile. “Hey, Victoria.”
    “Hi, Iris.” I motioned to the dry floor and neatly stacked shelves. “Looks like you did okay in the storm. The store looks perfect.”
    She nodded. “I was lucky. The basement’s a little damp, and that’s it. Of course, without power I don’t have my register, but I can still do cash transactions.” She held up an old cigar box with a grin.
    “I hope you get customers. This whole end of the street is without power, and we need to get it back before next weekend.”
    “I can’t believe Labor Day is around the corner,” she said. “But you’re right. A lot of us do our best business Labor Day weekend.” She pointed out the window. “It’s the boardwalk stands who will be hurt the most, I think. But at least the Casa Lido managed to celebrate its anniversary.”
    “Nonna wouldn’t have it any other way, storm or no storm. And thanks for coming last night, and for sticking around in all the craziness.” I looked her up and down. “Gosh, you look great. I’m still getting used to this new look of yours.”
    She dipped her head modestly. “Thanks. And we had a lovely time. The food was amazing, as always. Richard was very impressed.” With the mention of Richard Barone, Iris’s face glowed.
    “He’s quite the dish, by the way,” I said. “That Italian charm will get you every time.”
    “I do like him,” she said in a tone that gave it all away. It was clear she had it bad, and I hoped that Richard felt the same way about her.
    “How long have you been seeing him?”
    “Just a couple of months. His divorce is fairly recent, so we’re taking it slow.”
    He is, at least
. “That’s good,” I said. “I imagine his foundation takes a lot of his time.”
    “Yes, unfortunately. But his family’s been in the shore area for generations, and he really cares about the communities down here. In fact, he’s in the office today, generating help for storm cleanup and putting the pressure on the power company to get us back online.”
    I held up both hands with crossed fingers. “May he be successful. Well, my friend, I have to hit it. I want to stop at Sofia’s before I go down to the restaurant. And I’ll tell everybody you’re still open.”
    “Wait, before you go,” she said, “you heard about poor Stinky Pete, right?”
    “I did. Danny stopped back at the restaurant to tell us. Nonna was friendly with him.”
    Iris shook her head. “It’s such a shame. I felt so sorry for him when he came into the party. But your grandmother took care of things nicely.”
    “She’s good at taking care of things,” I said as I turned to go. “Bye, Iris.”
    “Bye, Victoria! See you soon.”
    It wasn’t until I was pedaling away that I had the sinking realization that yet again, someone had left the Casa Lido and ended up dead.
    *   *   *
    Sofia’s dance studio was another business along Ocean Avenue that seemed to be prospering despite the lack of power. There was a class going on when I got there, and it was a pleasure to watch Sofia, ever graceful despite her baby bump, execute
pliés
and
pas de chat
. Afterward we sat in her office, which twice now had served as our base of sleuthing operations.
    “So, are you