Antonio’s was a family-owned Italian restaurant with a well-deserved 4-star rating. The atmosphere, both early European in interior design and style of service, was enhanced, but not unexpectedly so, by crisp white tablecloths and silver cutlery sparkling at each table location. Founded by Antonio Fattori and his wife, Maria, the menu displayed a unique flare that proudly shared a story about each dish’s creation over a hundred years of tried-and-true Fattori family recipes. Their son and daughter, Joseph and Teresa, now ran the restaurant. Their parents, who were well into their late seventies, had a reserved table placed unobtrusively in the corner of the restaurant; yet not so unobtrusive that they could not view the goings and comings of clientele. Antonio and Maria occupied it most evenings during the week. As the evening progressed the two politely wandered table to table to chat and to ensure that everything was to the customer’ s satisfaction. Upon occasion they brought the bill. How long they lingered depended on how well they knew the customer and their initial reaction.
Matt noticed Antonio and Maria making their way to his table when Audrey appeared. An il cameriere assisted her in the removal of her overcoat then disappeared with it. She flopped down on the chair opposite and looked enquiringly at him, attempting to elicit who was at the other end of his phone call. He barely had time to smile at her when the waiter returned to take her drink order.
“Ginger ale, please. No ice,” she said.
Matt was surprised by her order. Normally she would have ordered the best bottle of Ripasso available. He reached out and lovingly squeezed her hand. The listening landscape to his ear glued to the phone was assailed by hysterical garble, yet enough information had leaked through to send uncontrollable chills up and down his spine. He needed to calm Susan down. “Susan, stop! Take a deep breath! Good! Now another. That’s it. A few more. Good…”
Audrey’s hand pulled away from his and his next thought briefly floundered in the abyss he found himself in.
He cleared his throat, then continued. “Did Chris and Claire make it out safely?” He held his breath. “It’s okay, Susan.” Maybe they were out gathering that evidence they mentioned, he thought. This was not how he envisioned the start of the evening with Audrey. He glanced at her and wished he hadn’t. An unpleasant tight feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. “Susan, I really must go. I can’t do anything until I hear from the Fire Marshal. Captain Gupta will be there this evening. Yes. Tomorrow. I don’t know what time…Yes…I’ll phone.” He closed his cellphone.
The two sat in silence until she said, “An intense phone call. Want to talk about it?”
“I think the spider may have been caught in its own web.” He said it half in thought and half in reply.
“Spider? What spider? I don’t understand.”
“No spider. Meant as a figure of speech.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I was referring to the gardener and his wife I interviewed earlier today. You see, he told me, or at least implied, that he would have proof of who murdered Sir Reginald this evening.”
“And does he?”
He took in a deep breath. “In a way, that’s what that call was about. There was a fire…I don’t know if they’re alive.”
“How horrible!”
Matt held up his empty scotch glass and rocked it to and fro to notify the il cameriere for a refill. He opened the wine menu and placed it under her nose. “I was surprised you didn’t order a bottle of our favourite Ripasso?” he said, pointing to it on the page.
A frown formed on her face. “We need to talk. Maybe you should call Captain Gupta first.”
“Ciao amici miei! ” Antonio said, teeth gleaming, and arms opened wide in a greeting gesture. He gallantly kissed Audrey’s hand.
“Ciao!” replied Matt and Audrey in happy unison.
Matt stood up and hugged both Antonio and Maria.
“It’s been a while. I hope all is well?” Maria asked, directing her attention to Audrey.
Audrey smiled. “Yes. It’s been too long.”
“I agree. May we join you for a few minutes?” Antonio asked.
“Of course,” Matt replied.
Antonio remained standing until he had seated Maria, then he sat on the chair beside her. “No wine?” His hand fanned between Matt’s scotch and Audrey’s ginger ale. He had barely turned to signal the bar when the waiter was at his side. “Gian Frano Fino ‘Es’ Riserva Primitive di Manduria.” He returned his attention to Matt and Audrey. “A special wine from the Puglia region.”
“When isn’t a wine from Italy not special,” replied Matt, kissing the tip of his fingers.
Antonio nodded with delight. “So true my friend! So true!”
Maria’s glance shifted discerningly from Audrey to Matt and back again. “I hope we haven’t intruded.”
“No! Never!” Both Audrey and Matt retorted.
The knots in Matt’s stomach tightened. He knew Audrey was lying as he had become quite acquainted with her personal gestures and quirks. Living with someone tends to do that. It didn’t help matters any when he noticed Maria scrupulously eyeing both of them.
After the bottle of wine had been delivered, uncorked, and tasted by Matt, the wine was poured into the four glasses.
“Alla famiglia e all'amicizia!” Antonio toasted with a raised glass.
“Wonderful! To family and friends, it is!” Matt joined in. Only three glasses were raised. “Is there something wrong?” Matt asked concerned when he noticed that Audrey was downcast and not touching her glass.
Slowly, she raised her head, her eyes quietly taking the three of them in. A tear formed at the corner of each eye. “I’m pregnant.”
Dead silence reigned as the three lowered their glasses. In Matt’s heart he knew that the other shoe had not yet dropped. How he knew that he did not know. He only knew. Everything was about to change. And he did not want to draw Antonio and Maria into that hellish hole with him. He peered at Audrey. Her gaze was fixed on him. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. He drew in a deep breath to steel his resolution. The rest of the evening would be a charade of smiling faces and laughter, camouflage for the anguish souls hidden behind their contrived exteriors. At least he owed Maria and Antonio an evening void of their emotional drama. He turned to Audrey and raised his glass again. “Alla famiglia!”