The Wedding Soup Murder: An Italian Kitchen Mystery by Rosie Genova Read Free Book Online

was in the kitchen until I heard raised voices. Kate and the Iron Lady were going at it hammer and tongs.
    How had Elizabeth come in without my seeing her? Was there a back entrance somewhere? And what was she even doing in here?
I couldn’t hear much of the argument, except for Elizabeth’s final words: “Out! Do you hear me? Out, and I mean it.”
    She turned away from Kate and barreled straight toward me.
She doesn’t see me yet,
I thought, and backed out of her path into a dim corner near the sink. She tapped her cane along the floor, stopping suddenly near the door, lifting her head like a dog with a scent. “Is someone there?”
    I flattened myself against the wall. Some instinct told me not to reveal either myself or that I’d overheard their fight. The tapping started again, followed by the whoosh of the kitchen door. I stepped out of my hiding place, only to face Chef Kate Bridges, her hands on her hips, her clown face fierce.
    “That old bitch,” she growled. “Somebody oughta put her lights out.”
    And before the night was over, somebody did.

Chapter Five
    W e sat at the family table in the back of the restaurant, the
Asbury Park Press
spread out in front of us. Despite a morning espresso, I was still groggy from my late night at the wedding reception, and couldn’t quite believe the words in the headline. But my dad helpfully read them aloud.
    “’Body of Belmont Club President Found on Beach.’ What a terrible thing,” he said, shaking his head. “And to think you were there last night, hon.”
    My mother peered over my dad’s shoulder. “Poor woman. And I know this sounds terrible, but I hope it happened long after all the guests were gone.” She stood up abruptly. “I should give Brenda a call. Excuse me a minute, hon.”
    “Dad, could I see that?” I turned the paper so I could read it:
    In what appeared to be the result of a fall, Elizabeth Merriman, philanthropist, Belmont Country Club president, and former owner of Merriman Industries, was found dead on the beach below the club early this morning.Ocean County Prosecutor Regina Sutton would not comment except to say that an investigation was already under way . . .
    The article went on to describe Merriman’s accomplishments and indicated that she had no known surviving relatives. I let out a long breath; my mind was certainly clear now. If Merriman fell, it had to be due to her eyesight. I wondered if that cane was anywhere near the body. And I couldn’t help the other questions that crept into my brain like thieves.
How did she fall, and from what?
The answer, of course, depended on where the body was found. I tried to see the building in my mind’s eye.
Could she have gone out an open window? The widow’s walk was a possibility, but why would she be out there in the dark with an event going on downstairs? And if she’d fallen from that tower balcony, was it likely the body would end up on the beach? The seawall was also a contender, but would a fall from that height kill her? Was she pushed? If so, how did the murderer get her out there? Who had a motive?
    At that one, my head snapped up, and I met my dad’s startled eyes. “You okay, baby?”
    “I’m fine, Dad,” I lied.
    He covered my hand with his. “You’re not worried, are you, Vic? I mean, this was an accident.” He lowered his voice and looked around, probably to make sure Nonna wasn’t within earshot. “It’s not like what happened in May.”
    I felt a rush of affection as I looked into hisstill-handsome face. He had the same hazel eyes as mine and Danny’s, but he didn’t have our healthy skepticism. His trusting nature and unfailing optimism, while endearing, had led him to bet long odds—at the track, in the casino, and in life. “Let’s hope not, Dad,” I said.
    “You just listen to your old man.” He winked at me, pushed his straw fedora to the back of his head, and turned his attention back to the paper. But the only thing I could concentrate