On the Line, page 23
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mateo balked. “I meant I wouldn’t think of bringing you sludge. There is a nice coffee bar around the corner. What would you like? A cappuccino? Latte? Half-caf?”
“They all sound good compared to, as you call it, the sludge. I know they try their best, but it’s not easy to make gourmet coffee for hundreds of people.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more, and I am willing to brave the elements to get you something worthy of your work.”
Adrian stifled a giggle. “It’s a beautiful day out there.”
“I was kidding. Well, not really kidding. Let’s just say if it was raining or snowing, I would still be willing to get you a coffee.”
“I accept.” She gave him a sly smile. “And perhaps a croissant? I’m starting to feel like I can put something in my stomach.”
“Glad you are feeling better.” Mateo rolled down his sleeve and got up to leave. He felt like kissing her. Not necessarily in a romantic, sensual way, but in an affectionate way. Maybe later. In spite of the alarming news about mercury levels, Mateo felt optimistic. Maybe it was an anomaly. Adrian had only two small tastings of char. Unless the food was contaminated, there was no other way she could have been exposed.
Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a cappuccino and a croissant for Adrian, and a scone for himself. His smile dropped from his face when he looked at Adrian. She was not smiling. She almost looked angry.
“What is it?” Mateo set the bag of breakfast pastries and coffee on a counter.
“Your level is up, too. Slightly. Not as much as mine.” She pursed her lips. “And you did not have any char.”
“So what should we do?”
“We don’t need chelation or transfusions, but let’s get a lot of fluid into our systems and test again in a few hours.”
Mateo was pensive. “I cannot imagine Gramercy Tavern serving bad food. Bad as in spoiled, not as in unappetizing. I know they are extremely careful about refrigeration, sanitation, and contamination. One bad dinner could ruin them.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the food,” Adrian suggested.
“Then what could it be?”
“I’m not sure, but if you didn’t have symptoms but still had a slightly elevated mercury reading, perhaps it was something else.”
“The wine?”
“Doubtful.” She squinted in thought. “Could we go back to Le Mer?”
“Like now?”
“If that’s okay with you. I want to retrace our steps.”
“Now you are sounding like a detective.”
“Yes. I told you I’m a very good one.” She checked her appointment schedule. “I’m free for the next two hours.”
“Then let’s go!” He held out her hand to assist her off the stool she was sitting on.
On their way out, Dr. Ardell told Mildred they would be back in about an hour. Mildred gave them a wink. She liked Dr. Ardell and thought she worked too hard and needed a personal life. Maybe Mateo would be the one to coax her into a more social existence.
* * *
When they arrived at the restaurant, Mateo and Adrian started from the front of the house and worked their way back to the kitchen, retracing their movements from the night before. “You never took off your coat,” Mateo pointed out.
“You were wearing a sweater and an apron. Where is the apron?”
Mateo went to the laundry bin and pulled it out. “Here.”
She looked at it for any kind of substance. Nothing.
“Then you showed me how to use the knives.” She walked over to the stainless-steel table and cutting board. “Can you get them?”
“Sure.” Mateo went in the back, where the lockers were. The padlock on his locker was open again. He looked inside, and his knife apron was gone, along with all of the knives. He returned to the kitchen and pulled out his cell phone and dialed Nora’s number.
“Hey, Nora. It’s Mateo. Yeah. I’m doing alright. I’m actually at the restaurant. I’m showing a friend around. Listen, did you send my knives out for sharpening?” He nodded. “You must have gotten here early. Okay. Just wanted to be sure no one stole them.” He ended the call and turned to Adrian. “That’s strange.”
“What?”
“We usually send out our knives once, maybe twice a month. It seems like Nora has been sending mine out weekly, and I haven’t even been here.”
“Maybe you should speak to Nora about it.”
“I will. She has a master key for the lockers in case someone forgets their key.”
“Does she always send your knives out without telling you?”
Mateo thought about it. “No. Not that I know of.” Something was bothering him. Something didn’t feel quite right. He called the place where the knives were sharpened.
“Hey, Henry. It’s Mateo Castillo. How are you? The family? Good to hear it. Nora said she sent my knives over there this morning. Any chance I can get them back this afternoon?” His brow furrowed. “She didn’t bring them in to you today?” There was a pause, and he repeated what Henry said. “She hasn’t brought them in for several weeks?” Another pause. “No, no, Henry. We haven’t gone elsewhere. You take care of them like they are my babies.” Mateo listened for a few more moments and then signed off. He looked at Adrian. “Something isn’t right.”
He called Nora again. “Hey, Nora, I just spoke to Henry. He said you didn’t drop my knives off this morning.” He listened. “What do you mean you took them somewhere else? I never authorized a change. You really should have discussed it with me first.” He was peeved. “I know you run the front of the house, but I run the back, and those are my tools.” His voice was getting rougher. “I need you to get them and bring them to the restaurant, pronto. I’ll wait.” He ended the call. “I can’t believe she did that.”
“So she is not authorized to make those decisions?”
“Absolutely not, especially with my property.” Mateo was heated.
“Do we wait?” Adrian asked.
“You don’t have to wait with me. I know you have patients. I’ll wait for Nora. Do you want me to come by the hospital when I’m finished here?”
“No. I want to do our own reenactment.” Adrian was dead serious.
“You’re the boss.”
“And so are you.” She patted his cheek. “I should be finished by four o’clock. Can we meet back here then?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Mateo was truly feeling much better. His face lit up as a thought occurred to him. “Hey, could you test fish for mercury?”
“Of course.” Adrian saw where he was going with this. “You want me to test the char from the restaurant.”
“Correct. More than likely, it’s the same batch. I am going to call GT and ask them to give you a piece of raw char.” Before she could respond, he hit the speed-dial button. “Hey, Charles. Is anyone in the kitchen right now?” He waited a second for a response. “Great. Could you ask them to wrap a small piece of char, preferably from the same lot that was on the menu last night?” He grinned as he listened. “Yes, I know it’s a goofy request, but it would be very helpful for an experiment I am doing.” He raised his eyebrows at Adrian. “No, nothing unsavory. No pun intended.” He chuckled. “A colleague of mine will stop by and pick it up. Please make sure it’s wrapped well so she doesn’t get chased by cats!” He snickered. “Thanks. She’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“Brilliant.” Adrian was impressed at Mateo’s plan. “Process of elimination.”
“So which one of us is Sherlock Holmes again?”
“It depends on who can solve the case first.” She spun on her heel and left the room. It was definitely a thing with her, Mateo decided.
* * *
Adrian hopped in a taxi and then asked the cabbie to wait as she ran into the restaurant to fetch the possible culprit. Then she returned to the hospital. Something was nagging at her. Regardless of what they ate the night before, nothing should have caused her mercury levels to rise that dramatically, and Mateo had less of an elevation. Once back at her lab, she reran their blood samples, yielding the same results. She had a few ideas, but it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. She didn’t think it was a coincidence that three weeks after his system was clear, he would have another toxic episode. It was as if he were being poisoned gradually. The mercury was being introduced into Mateo’s system over the course of time. But how? And why weren’t his levels as high as hers from the night before?
She used forceps to pick at the pieces of fish and in order to run a simple test. She pulled out a blue bottle and placed a few drops on the fleshy meat of the char. As she suspected, the test results showed no signs of mercury.
So then what was it?
* * *
Mateo was pacing in the kitchen when Nora arrived. She had a very innocent and embarrassed expression on her face. Before he had a chance to speak, she began to immediately apologize. “I’m very sorry, Mateo. I knew you were working on a new dish and probably needed to have your knives sharpened more frequently. I wanted them to be ready for you when you came back to work, and Henry was too busy. I didn’t think you would be here during the renovation.” She handed over a plastic shopping bag with the knife apron inside.
Mateo took the bag and glanced at the contents. “Thanks, Nora, but next time, check with me, okay?”
Nora placed her hand on his upper arm in an affectionate gesture. “Of course. I am so sorry if I upset you.”
“No problem. Thanks for bringing them back.” He slowly pulled himself away from her.
“Sure thing. So what are you doing here today?” she said coyly. Clearly, she didn’t want to be in his bad graces. Too much was on the line. She had ambitions.
Mateo surely wasn’t going to tell her why. He looked around the kitchen. “I missed the place.”
“Oh, you chefs. Can’t get enough, huh?” She shrugged.
“Speaking of chefs—how is your new boyfriend doing?” Mateo pretended to be interested. She seemed surprised at the question.
“Great. He’s been working some private chef stuff with a few celebs.”
“Anyone I might know?” Mateo knew it took no talent to be a celebrity chef in today’s culture. All you had to do was call yourself one and pretend you had a talent until people realized you had none and they moved on to the next celeb du jour. “I’ve been out of the loop.”
“It’s one of the Real Housewives,” Nora said with pride.
Mateo thought he was going to puke. Not from mercury but from the other thing that was eating at him, toxic self-obsession. And it was almost impossible to escape. He tried not to snort, but his response was an involuntary reflex. “Ah. A real celebrity.”
“Jealous?” Nora sneered.
“Busted! You got me.” Mateo wasn’t sure if she caught the sarcasm.
“Well, if any of the other wives are looking for someone, I’ll tell Neil to recommend you.”
Mateo was about to bust a gut. He bit his lip. “Yes, please. You do that. Thanks.” He grabbed his jacket and the shopping bag and bolted out the door. “See you next week.”
He groaned at the thought of working one of those private parties. It was more like a few rounds with the World Federation of Wrestling in Versace jumpsuits. Poor Gianni. He must be rolling in his grave. He had so much style and grace. Mateo shook his head and blinked several times, trying to shake the thought of those women screaming and throwing wine in each other’s faces. He had to wonder, who married those women? He shivered at the thought.
Mateo stood at the corner and wondered what he should do next. He had a few hours before he was supposed to meet up with Adrian. He decided to walk to his apartment and drop off his knives. He checked his mail. The renewal for his Met membership was in it, and it dawned on him that he hadn’t visited the museum in almost a year. He thought some reflective time in the company of the masters could be good for his soul, so he walked uptown to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
The first exhibit he hit up was Monet. No matter how many times he looked at the paintings on display, he was awed by how Monet could paint such massive works. And that was only a small part of the 250 paintings in the series that he’d worked on over the course of thirty years. Many critics said Monet’s best works were his in plein air paintings, all done outdoors. Mateo was even more captivated when he discovered Monet planted the water lilies before he painted them. He organized his property in Giverny as if it were a three-dimensional painting. Plant the idea and watch it grow.
Mateo continued to absorb the inspiring mood as he stood among the art. He tried to imagine what was going through Monet’s head as he was painting his subject. Talk about a virtual experience—and you didn’t even need special glasses to experience it. The man was a genius. No wonder they called him the “Father of Impressionism.”
From there, Mateo wandered to the polar opposite of emotions: David Alfaro Siqueiros’s Collective Suicide. Siqueiros was a Mexican artist who fought in the Mexican Revolution from 1910 to 1920. His art pursuits were constantly being interrupted by political activism as he fought against fascist forces during the Spanish Civil War. Finally, in 1936, he founded the Siqueiros Experimental Workshop, where Jackson Pollock was greatly influenced.
Mateo grew thoughtful. How unique and personal each painting was. In some instances, the inspiration was obvious. Yet not so obvious in others. He recalled the famous Oscar Wilde quote, “Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.” Mateo felt like he was hit by lightning. It was an epiphany. He knew at that moment what he wanted to do with his talent. He just had to figure out the details.
Mateo checked his watch. He had been there for over an hour. His stomach was grumbling. He thought of calling Adrian and asking if she wanted him to bring her lunch. He decided not to come on too strong, even though they were collaborating on solving their mystery. Mateo was elated that Dr. Adrian Ardell had taken a personal interest in him. Once she shed the white doctor’s jacket, she became a different person. The stony, no-nonsense exterior of Dr. Ardell became a charming, witty, and intriguing Adrian. He liked it. A lot.
He jumped when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He had meant to turn the ringer back on once he left the museum. It was Adrian. “Hey. What’s up?”
“The char is clean.”
“Can we assume it had an alibi?”
Adrian let out a guffaw. “Are you not taking this seriously?” She put on her stern voice.
“Oh, yes, ma’am. Very, actually. I’m just in a good frame of mind today.”
“Glad to hear it. But until we find the source, we need to take this seriously. Remember, your life is—”
“On the line.” Mateo finished her sentence. “What do we do now?” Mateo asked with more concern in his voice.
“I am getting off in an hour. One patient and one meeting were canceled.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good about the meeting. I find it hard to focus when some of my colleagues drone on and on. The patient? I cannot say. She did not give a reason when she spoke to Mildred.”
“Do you want to go out to eat now?” Mateo asked.
“If you are available, yes. Where are you?”
“I just left the Met. I needed some brain space.”
“That is one of my favorite places. Most museums, actually.”
Mateo tucked that tidbit away in his memory bank. Sunday brunch and maybe the Whitney. “I have to stop back at my apartment and pick up the knives. Shall we meet at Le Mer in, say, thirty minutes?”
“Perfect.” Adrian immediately ended the call.
Mateo looked at his phone. Yep. It’s a thing.
He hustled back to his apartment and picked up the shopping bag. Mateo hadn’t been paying attention earlier when Nora gave it to him. He was too busy trying not to blow his top. When he looked inside, there was a sales receipt for a women’s clothing store. It was dated the day before. Odd. Or maybe not. He decided to call Nora using the ruse she may need the receipt for something. “Hey, Nora. It’s Mateo. Listen, I found a receipt in the shopping bag you gave me. It’s from Putumayo. Do you need it?”
Nora’s voice sounded a bit nervous. “Uh, no. It’s on my credit card statement.”
“Just wanted to be sure before I chucked it,” Mateo said. “By the way, where did you get the knives sharpened?” He paused. “Just in case we need to use them again.”
“A place in my neighborhood. I figured it was more convenient.”
“What’s the guy’s name?” Mateo asked.
“Rupert. He’s a friend.”
“I understand wanting to help out our friends, but you really need to talk to me first before you start making these types of decisions.” Mateo was being very patient.
“You’re right. Sorry. It won’t happen again,” Nora said with relief.
“Okay. See you next week.” Mateo had already ended the call when he realized Nora hadn’t given him Rupert’s last name. Whatever. He figured Nora wasn’t going to pull any more of her stunts.
Mateo wasn’t too keen on Nora. She was annoyingly effusive, with her loud nasal voice when she greeted the customers. Some of the customers. The significantly rich customers. She always bought a round of drinks for the people who could well afford to buy the entire restaurant drinks. Of course, she never paid the tab at the end of the night. The owner always wrote it off. Mateo also thought her attire was a bit on the tacky side, with her boobs practically falling out of her dress, way too many cheap baubles, fishnet stockings, and stilettos. It was a bit tawdry and over-the-top for a high-class restaurant. Maybe that’s why the owner had hired her. Mateo always suspected there was something going on between them, but Nora was also shrewd. She could manipulate a man into thinking he would eventually get some honey from the Queen Bee.
Mateo wondered how long she would last. It had been two months so far, but the owner was away in the Caribbean for a few weeks. It had been easy for her to sashay around, playing up to the highly fashionable guests and putting their drinks on the house.
Normally, Nora wasn’t Mateo’s headache. They didn’t spend a lot of time interacting at work. Things were hectic, and everyone had a job to do and do it fast. But that morning, she had managed to thoroughly annoy him. He probably would have agreed to give her friend some business, anyway. It was that she didn’t ask him about it first. He shrugged and shook off the irritation, trying to return to the heady mood he was in when he left the museum with all its talent and passion. He realized he’d better get a move on. A special person was waiting for him.
