Mincemeat by Leonardo Lucarelli

Author:Leonardo Lucarelli [Lucarelli, Leonardo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-59051-792-5
Publisher: Other Press
Published: 2016-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

24.

The owners of Déjà-vu finally called me with news that the project was off the ground at long last and they were about to open for real. They didn’t know I was working for Arturo. In fact, hardly anyone knew. I had no idea how to break it to Arturo that I was about to fly the coop — what else was he supposed to expect? Maybe I could leave the kitchen in the hands of the dishwasher, because that’s often how a cook’s life begins. Someone gets into trouble, or gets lucky, or has some terrible mess to clean up, and you suddenly find yourself in charge of a kitchen. If it suits you, from that moment onward you embark on your journey. If you like it a lot, after some years a cook can even become a decent chef. Saving someone’s ass lends dignity to your profession.

There wasn’t a lot going on. As I glanced toward the bar, a man entered the restaurant and sat with his back to me, followed by another man in his fifties, solidly built, who turned around, saw me, and looked me straight in the eye. The man sitting down had a shaved, square-shaped head. Arturo left the bar and went over to them, not casting a glance at the handful of diners in the room. An argument appeared to ensue. From the kitchen I could see Arturo sweating profusely. His gestures piled up like dirty clothes in a laundry hamper; his feet shuffled nervously, and from his movements he seemed to be pleading for a break. I opened the door a crack and hissed to the waiter to come and get a couple of dishes. The two stood up and left. Arturo returned to his spot and poured himself a whiskey. I went back to the stove.

When I arrived the following day, the roller shutters at the front of the restaurant were half closed. Strange. I ducked to give Arturo a shout from under the shutters, and he answered from the darkness inside, telling me to come in, without pulling them up. Inside was a disaster zone. The bar was a shambles: the mirror in shards, shelves and chairs broken, bottles all over the floor, tables upturned, even the beer taps seemed to have taken a beating. Only then did I look at Arturo, who was busily trying to clean up, and I realized that he too had been knocked around: a black eye, his hand bandaged, and limping.

“What the fuck’s happened, Arturo?”

“Er, last night. After you guys left, two troublemakers came in, a couple of junkies maybe, I dunno, they wanted money. Got it? These two came in and wanted my fucking money, but I told them I didn’t have any and they started smashing the place up. What a hellhole this city’s become. It was much better when the Magliana Gang was around. Now it’s a wilderness out there, you’re not even safe in your own restaurant.”

“Shit … But what

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