Joe backpedaled frantically, trying to get out of range of the enraged chef. "Enrico! I didn’t mean—" He leaped sideways, evading a swipe of the French boning knife the man was wielding with such great efficiency. The other chefs had scattered; none of them cared to get in between their superior and the unfortunate Hardy boy.

"Enrico! Stop it!" The swinging door from the dining room was pushed inward, and Alexander Harrington stood there, scowling. Tony Prito was directly behind him, wide-eyed with shock at Joe’s predicament. "Get back to work. Go on – filare!"

With great reluctance, Enrico lowered the knife and turned to his work, favoring Joe with a furious scowl as he did so.

Now Harrington turned to Joe. "I don’t know what you said or did to incur that…but I don’t want it happening again, understand?"

"I just—" Joe began.

"Understand?" the manager repeated. "There’s no place for trouble-makers here, even if you are friends of Bella’s."

Joe’s chin jutted defiantly. "You can’t fire me without Bella’s okay!" he snapped.

Behind Harrington’s shoulder, Tony rolled his eyes to the ceiling at that comment, but Harrington answered more patiently than either Joe or Tony expected him to.

"Look, Joe…Bella’s a sweet kid – and I’m really sorry for all she’s going through. But she’s a kid. She doesn’t understand what all is involved in running a restaurant like Marco’s. And one of the most important things is not upsetting the head chef. I mean it; if you can’t get along with Enrico, you’re out. Plain and simple. Got it?"

"Yeah." Joe nodded. "I got it." Outwardly acquiescent, Joe was fuming inside – and also suspicious. You seem awfully eager to get rid of me, Mr. Harrington! A fuss with a chef is hardly a reason for firing someone…but you’re all ready to do it! Just what are you hiding?

* * * * *

Laura Hardy hummed softly as she finished emptying a dresser drawer full of Linda’s clothing. Bella had asked if she could start on this chore, saying that she, herself, couldn’t manage to face it. Laura found that if she kept her mind on the music, she could manage to do the necessary tasks without starting to cry. It kept her from thinking…and remembering…and regretting.

The sound of the front door chimes startled her. It might be Fenton, of course; he had gone to see his old partner and good friend, Sam Peterson of the New York City police. Perhaps he had finished his meeting much sooner than anticipated?

Laura opened the door, keeping the security chain on, and stared through the opening. Standing on the doorstep was a man with sleek dark hair and dark eyes; he appeared older than Fenton, possibly in his middle fifties. He was well-dressed, in a gray suit and dark red tie.

"Yes?" Laura didn’t release the safety chain.

"L-linda?" The man exclaimed, sounding shocked. Laura narrowed her eyes. Who was this person? Why wouldn’t he expect Linda to be here? It was her house, wasn’t it?

"No, I’m not Linda. I’m her sister, Laura. Laura Hardy." Suddenly, Laura knew who this was. Even before the man spoke again, she knew.

"Ah – Laura. Yes, I remember now. I’m Dominic Scarpetti, Marco’s brother." The shock was gone from his voice; it was silky-smooth.

Laura hesitated. Politeness said she should open the door and admit this man; caution warned her against it. Politeness won. She released the chain.

"Would you care to come in?"

"Thank you." Dominic smiled down at her as he entered; as he brushed past, Laura caught the scent of expensive cologne.

"You were looking for Linda?" Laura led the way into the formal living room and seated herself on a chair. "Please sit down, Mr. Scarpetti."

"Call me Dominic, please." He took a seat on the small sofa. "No. I was looking for Bella. I visit her sometimes, but usually not when Linda is here. That’s why I was so surprised to see you – thinking it was Linda. I’ve tried to become friends with Isabelle, since her father’s death."

"Yes…she mentioned that you came to Marco’s funeral." Laura looked at Dominic curiously. What does he know? Does he know about Linda?

"Bella isn’t here," Laura went on. "She went down to the restaurant. She has some friends who needed jobs, and she arranged for Alexander to take them on, I understand." She paused. "Had you heard about Linda?"

"Heard about Linda? Heard what?" Dominic inquired. "Has something happened to her?"

"Linda died, two days ago, in Bayport." Laura answered him steadily enough, but her heart was aching inside her chest. She watched him narrowly, gauging his reactions. Did you know about it already, Dominic? Did you have something to do with it, perhaps?

"Linda died?" Scarpetti gasped. "How dreadful! Poor little Bella – is she all right? How did it happen?"

"We’re not sure," Laura informed him, managing this half-truth with aplomb. After all, they didn’t know for sure how she was given the poison…. "And yes, Bella is managing to hold up."

"What a dreadful shame," Dominic’s silky voice nearly caressed the words.

"Why did you contact Bella at her father’s funeral, Mr. Scarpetti? Why did you even go to the funeral, if Marco was estranged from your family?" Laura wondered just how thin the ice she was treading on was, but she was determined to find out everything she could from this deceptively smooth personage. His eyes betrayed no expression; looking into them was like gazing at a blank stone wall.

"As I told Bella, Marco was my baby brother, and I always regretted his distancing himself from our family. I wanted to become acquainted with Bella; to let her know that she had relatives who cared for her, on her father’s side of the family." He eyed Laura speculatively. "You weren’t there – at the funeral, I mean."

"I didn’t know about Marco’s death until yesterday." Laura said, raising her chin slightly. She fully appreciated the implied criticism. "If I had known, do you really think I and my husband wouldn’t have been there?"

"Of course not," Scarpetti said soothingly. "Laura…Mrs. – Hardy, that is…we were both victims of a family feud that kept us away from our loved siblings. I was trying to get back some of what I lost when Marco walked away from us."

Marco walked away from you because of what you were – and are! Laura thought furiously. "Bella came to us for help after her mother’s death…Dominic." Take that, you smooth-talking slimeball! "And Fenton and I are going to do everything we can to help her." Does the name Fenton Hardy ring any bells, Dominic? Send a chill up your spine, I hope?

The man rose to his feet. "I really must be going now. Please tell Bella I stopped by, and pass along my heartfelt condolences, won’t you?"

Laura showed him to the door, her face a pleasantly smiling mask. But once he was gone – and the safety chain engaged! – she stood and stared at the closed door for a long moment, thinking hard. Then, with a resolute expression, she got her purse out of the entry closet. After making sure she had the house key with her, she opened the door and stepped outside. Laura Hardy knew what she had to do…and she was thankful that Fenton wasn’t there to stop her.

* * * * *

After his brush with death at knifepoint, Joe made sure to behave very circumspectly, and to concentrate on his duties for the next hour or so. Enrico pointedly ignored him, which Joe felt was a lucky circumstance. The other chefs and the wait staff were busy with their work, and as the lunch crowd filtered in, Joe’s own duties piled up. He had no time to think about mysterious poisons or potential murderers; he was too busy clearing tables!

At one point in time, he saw Frank and Bella sitting at a corner table, eating lunch and talking. The table wasn’t one of Joe’s, nor was it Tony’s; there was no way for the younger Hardy to check with his brother on whether or not Frank had made any significant findings in the restaurant’s finances. Joe managed to catch Frank’s eye, and waved, but added a gesture indicating he couldn’t come over to talk. Frank grinned and nodded.

 

As Bella and Frank left the main dining room, Frank intending to return to Linda’s office and resume his analysis of computer spreadsheets and bank statements, the front door of the restaurant swung open to admit a sophisticated-looking man with dark hair and eyes. The man caught sight of them, and his reaction was immediate.

"Bella! Poverina bambina!" He strode forward and caught her against himself in a hug. "I just heard about your mother! I am so sorry, little one!"

"Uncle Dom!" She hugged him in return. "I’m so glad you’re here!"

"Isabella, you shouldn’t be alone in that house. You could come and stay with me; would you like to do that?"

"Thank you," Bella said. "but I’m not alone. My Aunt Laura and Uncle Fenton from Bayport are staying there with me. Laura is my mother’s sister. They’ll be there at least until after…the funeral." And until we find out who murdered my mother!

Frank observed this newcomer with interest. So this was ‘Uncle Dom.’

"Uncle Dom, I’d like you to meet – a friend of mine, Frank Griffin. Frank, this is my uncle, Dominic Scarpetti." Frank extended his hand, and after a moment of sizing him up, Dominic accepted the handclasp. Frank noted that the man’s hands were very smooth; Dominic evidently didn’t do manual labor. "Frank’s helping me by looking over the books for the restaurant, Uncle Dom. I’ll have a professional accountant go over them later, of course, but right now Frank’s looking for any glaring errors."

"But surely there are no glaring errors in the books at Marco’s?" Scarpetti frowned slightly. "Everything here is shipshape, right? And aboveboard?"

"Everything looks fine so far." Frank conceded coolly. Dominic Scarpetti…part of the Scarpetti ‘family’ in more senses than one. But Bella thinks he’s wonderful, apparently. Bella’s opinion notwithstanding, Frank had no intention of trusting Dominic Scarpetti any further than he could throw him.

After a few moments of stilted conversation, Dominic excused himself and went to talk to Alexander Harrington. Frank went back into Linda’s office, where he turned on the computer again and resumed his tasks. But he made a mental note to ask his father for a complete background check of Alexander Harrington. If the man was pals with Dominic Scarpetti….

Scarpetti drew Alexander Harrington aside. Ostensibly, he was talking about the restaurant, or the weather, or politics, or the Yankees’ chances for another pennant….but in reality, their conversation was of a slightly darker cast.

"So who’s this Frank Griffin?" Scarpetti inquired. "Where did he come from?"

"He’s a friend of Bella’s. Brother of a school friend, or something like that." Harrington replied. "He’s going over the financial records before she calls in an accountant."

"No problems, though…right?"

"No…he seems all right. His brother’s a troublemaker, though…already had a run-in with Enrico. I would have fired him right away if he wasn’t a friend of Bella’s. And the little twit had the nerve to call me on it! Said ‘you can’t fire me without Bella’s say-so.’"

Dominic growled under his breath, but said no more about the Griffin brothers. If Alex wasn’t worried….After a short time he sought out Bella once more, to say goodbye.

"Isabella, dear girl. I must go now, but I’ll be in contact with you again soon. Probably tomorrow. Have the funeral arrangements been made for your mother yet?"

"No, not yet." She shook her head. "But by tomorrow I’m sure I’ll know something more." She tiptoed to kiss his cheek. "Goodbye, Uncle Dominic. Thank you for coming here to see me."

"Arrivederci, Bella." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Until tomorrow."

* * * * *

Laura Hardy paid the taxi driver and alighted from the cab. As the man drove away, she stood and stared at the imposing edifice in front of her. It looks like something out of a movie set! she thought to herself. Confidence, Laura! You have to do this for Linda…and for Bella.

Crossing the sidewalk, Laura stepped onto a brick walk which led to a short flight of stone steps. She mounted the steps slowly, still staring up at the house which she was approaching. Finally she reached the front door, and stood gazing at it for a long moment. She felt a shiver run through her body as she reached for the classically-styled brass door knocker. She raised it – and then rapped sharply on the rich wooden surface of the massive door.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard footsteps approaching from the other side. The door was opened, and she beheld a tall, stern-faced woman in a dark, severely-cut dress.

"Yes?"

"My name is Laura Hardy. I would like to speak to Mr. Scarpetti, please…Antonio Scarpetti."

* * * * *

In the quiet of a dimly-lit office, a hand reached for the telephone receiver, and numbers were swiftly dialed from memory. The phone rang twice before being picked up on the other end.

"I have a job for you. There’s someone working at Marco’s Restaurant right now…a guy by the name of Frank Griffin. He’s going through the financial books. I want him stopped." The speaker listened for a moment, then continued. "Whatever it takes to convince him to stay away from there. He’s probably not worth the time or attention, but I don’t like leaving things to chance. If he is a problem, he won’t be one after you’re finished with him. If he’s not…well, he’s a nobody, and you’ll get some practice time. Take care of it."

The receiver was silently replaced in its cradle.

Sparks and Evergreen don't own the Hardy Boys characters, they belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation, We've just borrowed them for an adventure or two. We will put them back when we're done with them. We do claim copyright to the original characters and themes in this story. Please do not borrow them without the expressed permission of the authors.