The Cannoli Caper by Kirsten Weiss

Author:Kirsten Weiss [Kirsten Weiss]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: misterio press
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

chapter eight

“Are we at the kid’s table?” I asked, fidgeting like… Well, like an antsy kid.

Mason snorted. Tourists and families strolled past the restaurant window.

My mother, Mason, and I sat on our own in a small, brick alcove. I leaned back in my wooden chair and peered into the other room. Melanie, Nico, and his family laughed uproariously around a white-clothed table laden with food.

“Nonsense,” my mother speared two gnocchi. “The main table wasn’t big enough. It makes sense to keep all the Americans together.”

I folded my arms. “So,” I said. “Children’s table.”

“Honestly, Madelyn,” my mother said. “I don’t know why you’re in such a mood.”

Mood? Carefully, I set down my fork. “I was kidnapped. A man died at our hotel this afternoon, ostensibly by accident, but—”

“Ostensibly?” my mother arched a brow.

“Something strange is going on,” I said, frustrated. “And everybody’s acting like it’s no big thing.” And okay, maybe the jetlag I couldn’t kick was making me crankier than usual. But still… kidnapped!

“No,” my mother said. “A man’s death is a big thing. It matters. But we’re carrying on for Melanie’s sake. Her wedding is in a few days. It’s one of the biggest days of her life.”

I grimaced. “But don’t you think—?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I think we’re strangers in a foreign country. We don’t know what’s going on, and odds are we never will, because we’re strangers in a foreign country.”

“Who is strange?” Nico said gaily. He strode up behind Mason’s chair and clapped him on the shoulder of his borrowed tuxedo jacket.

Melanie strolled up beside him and slipped an arm around his waist. “Sorry to put you at the children’s table.” The ruby on her crimson gown winked.

I shot my mother a look. Ha.

“Thanks for being such good sports about it,” my sister continued. “But we couldn’t separate Nico’s family.”

“It’s fine,” my mother said.

“The food’s incredible,” Mason said. “It’s nothing like the Italian restaurants in the States.”

“The chef is a personal friend of mine.” Nico smoothed his dark hair and surreptitiously checked his reflection in the window. “I will ask him to come to your table.”

“Oh,” my mother said, “we wouldn’t want to disturb him.”

“Nonsense,” Nico said. “It is no disturbance.”

I exhaled loudly. Forget the chef. “Have the police learned anything about the man who died?” I asked, and my mother frowned.

“If they have,” Nico said, “they have not informed me. And I have no reason to expect they would.”

“But you did know the man,” I said. Nico must feel some curiosity about his death.

Melanie laughed. “Oh, Mad. You’re the last person I’d have thought would be so sensitive about an accidental death. Yes, it’s tragic, but you run a paranormal museum.”

“In fairness,” Mason said, “it’s not really that kind of museum.”

I smiled at him, my insides warming. Mason understood me. My museum was charming and historical and only a little campy. And why not? Campy was fun.

“I don’t know what other kind of museum it could be,” Melanie said. “It’s paranormal.”

“Madelyn is just a little out of sorts,” my mother said.

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