Secrets in the Cellar Read online

  Secrets in the Cellar

  Priscilla Baker

  Copyright © 2020 Priscilla Baker All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Design by http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

  For Ben, my biggest fan

  Chapter 1

  “He still hasn’t called?”

  Lucy Moretti looked up as her best friend, Ally Pope, leaned through the doorway to their shared office, a tiny room located in the back of the kitchen at Alba, the restaurant Lucy owned and operated with the help of her best friend, Ally. Alba served homestyle Italian food in Boston’s historic North End neighborhood, which was packed with restaurants, bakeries, historical sites—and tourists.

  “Nope,” Lucy responded. “I’m not sure he will at this point. It’s been almost a week,” she added with a sigh.

  “I’m sorry, Luce,” Ally responded. “That’s a bummer. Have you tried calling him?”

  “I did today. It went straight to voicemail,” Lucy replied, raking her hand through her wavy brown hair. They were talking about Lucy’s recent date with police officer Charlie Fitz, who had helped to solve the murder of one of their employees. He and Lucy had spent a very nice evening together, first visiting a Thai restaurant in downtown Boston and then taking a nice stroll along the water. When Charlie and Lucy parted ways, he had promised to call, but Lucy still hadn’t heard anything.

  “Well, shoot,” said Ally, coming into the office and sitting down at her desk, which was really just a table shoved into the back half of the room. Lucy and Ally both had computers set up on it, side by side.

  “Oh well,” Lucy said with a shrug. I do wish he’d called, though, she thought to herself. “On to bigger and better things. How’s it looking out front?” she asked her friend.

  “All good, everything’s under control. Quiet night out there,” Ally replied, referring to the dining room. Even though she was the executive chef at the restaurant, she liked to poke her head out into the seating area every once in a while and check on things. Plus, people were always impressed when the petite woman with blonde curls introduced herself as “Chef.”

  It was a Tuesday night, and Lucy was focusing on getting caught up on her work. The restaurant was closed on Mondays, so Tuesdays were always kind of a “catch-up” day for Lucy. She and Ally had spent their day off yesterday in Lucy’s apartment above the restaurant, perfecting a recipe for pasta agnolotti stuffed with a filling made from spring peas, goat cheese and sage.

  “Have you eaten yet?” Ally asked, breaking into Lucy’s thoughts. “I was going to heat up some of that leftover gnocchi from the weekend special. Do you want any?” She raised an eyebrow at her friend.

  “Absolutely!” Lucy declared. “Thank you. With vodka sauce?” she asked hopefully.

  “Oh fine, with vodka sauce!” Ally conceded. Lucy’s love of Ally’s vodka sauce was well-known in the kitchen. “Give me twenty minutes,” Ally said, rising from her chair and leaving the office.

  “You’re the best!” Lucy called after her.

  “I know!” came Ally’s faint reply, drifting through the loud sounds of the kitchen. It was always noisy; with pans clanging and requests being shouted back and forth between the cooks. There was almost always music playing in the background, as well; tonight it was heavy metal. Those guys have something new every night, Lucy thought to herself, hearing the music.

  While she waited, Lucy turned back to the financial spreadsheets pulled up on her computer screen, tuning out the loud noises coming through the doorway. The restaurant was doing well, but it was always a struggle balancing Ally’s requests for the best ingredients with the need to, well, pay everybody. If Ally had her way, she would even cancel the electricity to have just a little bit more to spend on food, Lucy thought to herself with a smile.

  They were lucky to have Ally at Alba. Before coming to Boston to take the executive chef position, she had been the sous chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant in New York City. After she and Lucy had shared a college graduation, Ally had spent the first part of her twenties working in kitchens up and down the east coast. They had met as roommates at Johnson & Wales University, in Providence, Rhode Island, where Ally had earned a degree in the culinary arts and Lucy one in hospitality management.

  Lucy had been thrilled to hire Ally. Together, they had big plans for Alba. Admittedly, Lucy had struggled before Ally’s arrival. She’d gone through a few executive chefs, none lasting longer than a year. But then Ally had arrived, and things changed for the better. Ally had brought a more modern flair to the food they were serving at Alba, and most definitely a stronger approach to discipline in the kitchen. She had whipped the kitchen into shape, and Lucy couldn’t be more grateful.

  I should probably go check on things out front while Ally makes us dinner, Lucy thought to herself. She rose from her chair and headed out the office door, closing it tightly behind her. Turning to the right, she headed down the narrow hallway that lined the back wall of the kitchen, towards the swinging door and the bustling dining room. Lucy paused before heading out, smoothing back her chocolate colored hair and making sure her light green blouse was pulled down neatly over her black slacks.

  Taking a breath, Lucy emerged through the swinging door, taking in the sight of the dining room in front of her. About half of the tables were occupied, and servers dressed in black and white were weaving their way through the closely packed tables topped with white linen. The bartenders were expertly mixing drinks, flirting just enough with the guests at the bar to raise their tips. The wooden parquet floors practically sparkled in the low light, and open windows let in just enough of a breeze to keep the votives on the tables flickering. All in all, the dining room held all the marks of a good night.

  Lucy stepped to the side, out of the way of the door, and watched the action. She liked to station herself in the dining room sometimes and just take it all in. She was always a little surprised that all this was hers.

  After a moment, she stepped out into the fray, greeting the customers she recognized and introducing herself to the ones she didn’t. Her father had claimed that was the secret to the success of Alba; if the customers knew your name, they always came back. And so Lucy made connections with customers, remembered their kids’ names and where they lived, and so, business continued to grow.

  After making the rounds, Lucy returned to the kitchen office, where she encountered Ally setting down a beautiful looking bowl of potato gnocchi with bright pink sauce, topped with a sprinkle of shredded parmesan and a pinch of sliced basil.

  “You didn’t have to bother plating it up so nicely for me, Ally!” Lucy exclaimed when she saw it. “But thank you. It looks gorgeous,” she added gratefully.

  “Oh please. There’s no point eating it if it doesn’t look pretty,” Ally retorted jokingly as she sank into her chair. She had her own bowl of gnocchi in front of her, and the small room was filled with the delicious, spicy scent of the meal.

  “Yeah, that’s your philosophy. Mine is that there’s no point eating it if it doesn't taste delicious,” Lucy replied. “But luckily, this is both!” she said, sitting down and picking up the fork Ally had left beside the bowl, then taking an appreciative sniff.

  “My pleasure,” Ally replied, with an odd note in her voice. She had one hand on her computer mouse and was checking her email, with the other holding still holdin
g her fork.

  “Is everything alright?” Lucy asked her friend, concerned. Ally didn’t usually concentrate so hard on emails. In fact, she rarely read them in the first place.

  “Yeah, everything is fine.” Ally began, speaking slowly. “It’s just, well, I got this email, and I guess I was nominated for the Outstanding Young Chef award, from the American Restaurant Association,” she continued, turning to face Lucy. She still held her fork, a forgotten gnocchi speared on the tines.

  “Oh wow, Ally! That’s fantastic!” Lucy cried out excitedly, a smile spread across her face.“Congratulations! I’m really proud of you. Do you know who nominated you?” she asked eagerly.

  “No, it doesn’t say,” Ally replied. “It wasn’t you, right?” she asked Lucy hesitantly.

  “No, I hate to say, it wasn’t me,” Lucy replied regretfully. “I wish I had thought of it, though, because you deserve it. When is the winner announced?” she asked, trying to focus on Ally as the spicy, tomato-y scent of the vodka sauce distracted her.

  “The winner isn’t announced until October, at a special ceremony,” Ally replied. “But next week, they’re announcing the finalists, who will all get to go to Charleston for the ceremony and a full week of ‘special events’,” she continued, reading from the email. “Charleston! I’d love to go back and visit,” she added longingly. Ally had spent just over a year in Charleston, South Carolina, after graduation. Lucy felt a pang of jealousy; as much as she loved Alba, she had always held just a tiny bit of regret that after college, she had come right back to the building she’d grown up in.

  “You deserve it, Al,” Lucy congratulated her friend as she finally picked up the fork to take her first bite of gnocchi. “I really hope you get to go,” she added, trying not to let any of the jealousy that had sprung to life inside her sneak into her voice. Man, wouldn’t it be great if there was an award for the people who owned the restaurants? she wondered as she ate. We work just as hard as anyone else, if not harder.

  Chapter 2

  Lucy woke with a start the next morning as a truck on the street outside honked, loud and low. Ugh, she groaned internally. Why can’t the rest of the world stay quiet until noon? She glanced over at the clock and saw that it was just after eleven in the morning. She was lying in her bed, in the small apartment she had grown up in located directly over Alba. It had two small bedrooms, a living room, and a tiny kitchen. Not that Lucy ever used it, most of her meals were pilfered from the restaurant and eaten in her office downstairs.

  At least I still have some time, she thought. I don’t have to be downstairs until three. Since Alba only served dinner, not lunch, no one came in for work before early afternoon—except Ally, who often showed up first thing in the morning and used the empty kitchen to experiment with new dishes.

  Lucy rolled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, switching on her coffee maker. She hopped in the shower while she waited for the coffee to brew.

  Today should be an easy day, she thought as she shampooed her hair. Weekdays are never that busy. I’ll hang out up here for a little bit and straighten up before I go down to the restaurant. It seemed like Lucy never had quite enough time in the day to get everything done, and keeping the apartment neat and tidy definitely took a backseat to the restaurant.

  Finishing up her shower, Lucy threw on some sweatpants and a light sweater before wrapping herself in her old, plaid robe and heading out to the kitchen, where she poured the fresh coffee into her favorite mug before settling down on the couch. A morning person, she was not.

  Buzz! A noise broke through Lucy’s reverie—the sound of her cell phone vibrating as she received a text. She went back into the bedroom and grabbed it from where she had left it on the nightstand last night. The text was from Ally.

  Sorry for the wakeup call. Left my keys at home. Can you let me in? the message read.

  “Oh, Ally.” Lucy sighed. On my way down, she texted back. She headed to the front door, pausing to exchange her robe for a jacket and slip on her shoes. She stepped out her door and onto the small balcony overlooking the alley behind the restaurant and the back door to the kitchen. There was a flight of wooden stairs leading down to the ground. Down below, Ally was waving at her, with a grimace on her face.

  “I’m sorry!” Ally called.

  “No worries,” said Lucy. “The air is nice and fresh out here! And cold!” she called out as she shivered, the breeze chilling her still-wet hair.

  “Oh please, it’s almost summer. It’s not cold, you’re just a baby!” Ally teased from the bottom of the stairs, grinning.

  “Wait a sec, do you hear something?” Lucy asked, pausing as a new noise caught her attention. She rested her arms on the railing of the balcony, listening intently.

  “Nah, you’re imagining things. Too early in the morning for you!” Ally called as she gestured for Lucy to toss down the keys.

  “I definitely hear something…like a squeaking noise? Check under the stairs!” Lucy called again as she tossed the keys over the edge. Ally deftly caught them and moved towards Alba’s back door.

  “No way!” Ally replied as she unlocked the door. “Check yourself. I have work to do!” she called back over her shoulder as she headed into the restaurant, leaving the door cracked behind her.

  It’s probably nothing, Lucy thought to herself as she peered over the edge of the balcony. It really is chilly out here.

  As she stood on the tiny balcony, she heard the noise again, louder this time. Well, a quick peek can’t hurt, she thought as she headed down the stairs, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. Reaching the bottom, she ducked under the open side of the space underneath the staircase, moving aside the pile of junk that had somehow accumulated over the years.

  Why are there so many tarps under here? she thought to herself as she kicked them aside, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly, a shape moved in the corner. Oh no, it’s a rat! Lucy thought as she jumped back, almost slipping on the pile of tarps.

  The shape came out of the corner, materializing into something that definitely wasn’t a rat. It’s a kitten, Lucy realized. That’s almost worse than a rat.

  “Ally!” she called out anxiously. “Come back out here!” she called pleadingly.

  A second later Ally reappeared from the kitchen door, having exchanged her blue sweatshirt for her white chef’s coat and an apron. Her blonde curls were neatly pulled back. “What’s wrong?” she asked, still tucking a curl up under her flat black cap.

  “It’s a cat—a kitten. Under the stairs. What do I do?” Lucy called out from where she was, still standing on the pile of tarps.

  “Is it alone?” Ally asked, a note of amusement in her voice.

  Lucy peered under the stairs, looking for any other movement. “I think so. I don’t see anything else,” she responded.

  “Well, then pick it up!” Ally called out, leaning against the door jamb.

  “How?” Lucy asked flatly. Her family had definitely not been a pet family when she was growing up—the restaurant had been more than enough to keep them busy.

  “What do you mean, how? Just pick it up! With your hands!” Ally called back, laughter in her voice.

  Lucy grimaced and moved to where the kitten was, just sitting and staring at her. She reached out, expecting the animal to back into the corner, but it just looked at her before meowing loudly.

  “It made a noise! What does that mean?” Lucy called out worriedly.

  “Cats meow sometimes, Luce! Just pick it up, you can’t leave it there!” Ally replied, coming closer.

  Lucy reached forward and grabbed the kitten, pulling it towards her and stepping out from under the stairs triumphantly with her arms outstretched.

  Ally laughed. “What are you doing? Have you ever seen a cat before? That’s not how you hold it!” The tiny creature meowed again, a high-pitched squeak, as if to echo Ally’s point.

  “Then fine, you take it!” Lucy replied, pointing the cat at her friend. “Besides, no,
I’m actually not sure if I’ve ever seen a kitten before in real life, thank you very much. Not many people in the city have pets,” she pointed out to her friend, who had grown up in the classic suburban lifestyle, which included cats and dogs, and even a rabbit, in Ally’s case.

  “No way am I taking that thing! I’ll get fur all over my jacket, and this is the last clean one,” Ally said, gesturing at her spotless white coat. “Besides, finders keepers. That thing is yours now!” Ally laughed.

  “What do I do with it?” Lucy asked, peering at the kitten more closely in the daylight. It was a brown tabby with white feet and a white spot on the tip of its tail, it’s fur damp and matted. It peered back at her with big brown eyes. It was so light, Lucy almost felt like she wasn’t holding anything at all.

  “Take it upstairs! You certainly can’t bring it in here,” Ally said, stepping back inside the kitchen. “The health inspector would have a fit. Bring it up to the apartment and give it some water. I can bring up a little bit of salmon—we have plenty. Find a blanket or something for it.” Ally commanded, letting the kitchen door close behind her as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Well, alright then, cat,” Lucy said to the kitten in her arms. “I guess we’re going upstairs. Ally says.”

  She headed back upstairs, still uncertain as to why Ally had laughed at her cat-holding technique. The door was still open, and she headed right inside, leaving the door cracked for Ally.

  Heading directly to the bathroom, Lucy put the cat down on the bathmat. It immediately flopped over and started purring, still staring at her with dark, expectant eyes.

  “Don’t get too comfy here, cat,” she warned. “There’s no way you’re staying. I’ll find someone who knows how to hold a cat, and you can go live with them,” she added. She stepped backwards out of the bathroom, closing the door tightly behind her.

  In the kitchen, Lucy searched through the cabinets, looking for something she could use as a water dish for the cat. In the back of the upper cabinet over the fridge, she finally spied a little pink bowl. Oh wow, she thought. I’m pretty sure that was mine, way back when. Mom and Dad really knew how to hang on to things. By standing on her tiptoes, she could just barely reach it.