Chapter 5 - THE RECIPE THAT WASN'T ABOUT FOOD
I had never been so grateful for my mother's habit of keeping old things.
Rosa's recipe book wasn't in my diner locker.
It was inside a metal biscuit tin beneath my apartment bed.
I'd carried it through three moves.
Two college semesters.
And every financial disaster of my adult life.
Now someone was threatening to make me disappear because of it.
Gabriel wanted to send security to my apartment.
I refused.
“Not without my permission.”
His expression tightened.
“Norah, someone threatened you.”
“I know.”
“Then let me protect you.”
I looked straight at him.
“You can help me. But you don't get to take control of my life.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
“Fair.”
That surprised me.
The man whose reputation terrified an entire city had just accepted the word no.
We arranged for the police to document the threat.
Then, with appropriate precautions, I retrieved the book.
It was exactly as I remembered.
Blue cover.
Grease stains.
Loose pages.
And Rosa's handwriting filling the margins.
I opened it to her stracotto recipe.
Chuck roast.
Carrots.
Potatoes.
Garlic.
Red wine.
Thyme.
Cinnamon.
The same ingredients I'd used at Benny's.
But beneath the instructions was a sentence I'd never noticed.
When the earth and the soul meet, turn to page seventeen.
My heart began pounding.
I flipped through the book.
Page seventeen contained a recipe for lemon cake.
Nothing unusual.
Then I noticed the page number had been written twice.
Once in blue ink.
Once in pencil.
Gabriel leaned closer.
“What is it?”
I examined the binding.
The page was thicker than the others.
Two sheets had been glued together.
With Rebecca present, we carefully separated them.
A thin document slipped out.
A list of names.
Dates.
Medical assistance payments.
And account numbers.
I stared.
“This isn't a recipe.”
Rebecca nodded.
“No.”
Gabriel studied the first page.
His expression darkened.
“Saint Agnes Medical Foundation.”
The charity his father had helped establish.
The same foundation connected to Rosa's trust.
The documents appeared to show payments intended for patients being diverted to private companies.
Some beneficiaries were children.
Others were elderly patients.
Several names were marked deceased.
But large payments continued after their recorded deaths.
I felt sick.
“Someone was stealing money meant for sick people.”
Rebecca nodded carefully.
“That is one possible interpretation. We need independent verification.”
Then she examined the final page.
Her expression changed.
“There's another name.”
Gabriel looked up.
“Who?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“Paulie Greco.”
Gabriel went still.
Paulie.
The underboss whose poisoning had triggered Gabriel's fear of food.
According to the document, Paulie had discovered the same financial discrepancies two weeks before he collapsed.
I looked toward Gabriel.
“He knew.”
Gabriel nodded slowly.
“And someone tried to silence him.”
Then Rebecca reached the final entry.
A payment made the morning Paulie was poisoned.
Authorized by a company controlled by Leo.
Gabriel's oldest enforcer.
The man who stood beside him at every meal.
May you like
The man who watched me cook.
And the man who insisted the penthouse food was safe.
