A young man, Chinese in appearance, was sitting at the small reception desk that held the cash register and an appointment book. Mckenzie suspected that there had been few entries in the book tonight. From the pensive look on his face, the man appeared to be looking over the evening’s receipts and taking little pleasure from his examination.
The silvery ring of the small bell broke his serious mood and he looked hopefully toward the door. At the sight of Brenda and Peter his face came alight with a broad smile. He jumped to his feet and hurried to meet them.
“Hey counselor” he said with a tone of affectionate levity animating his voice. Peter vigorously shook his hand. “How are you doing Matt? Sandra chase you out of the kitchen again?” So, this was Peter’s former classmate Mathew, Mckenzie thought. In Brenda, the mixture of genes from her Caucasian mother and Chinese father had produced an exotically beautiful woman. Mathew on the other hand seemed to be a portrait of old China, untouched by any competing culture. Mckenzie reflected on the irony. He was about to eat dinner in an Italian restaurant run by a Chinese-American lawyer - only in San Francisco.
Matt’s smile became a guilty grin. “You know Sandy. She said I was gaining too much weight sampling the dishes.”
Brenda interjected a quick comment. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I have seen what you call a sample. You don’t give your customers that much food.”
Matt turned to Brenda, shaking his finger at her as he lapsed into what Mckenzie recognized as Mandarin Chinese. Matt seemed to be in the midst of scolding her when Brenda launched a fierce response, the Chinese words flowing over each other like water passing over stones. For a moment they stood toe to toe, obviously mock anger reflected in an increasingly vociferous exchange. Then they both burst into laughter before they hugged each other.
Peter looked at Alex and chuckled. “I don’t think either one of them can actually speak Chinese. I think they make it up as they go along just to confuse me.”
Brenda still had her arm around Matt’s waist. “You have known him longer than I have Matt. Has he always been this paranoid?”
“Pretty much.”
Mckenzie experienced a disconcerting sense of isolation. Friendships had never been part of his life. He felt like an intruder interjecting his presence in world where he did not belong. Instinctively, he took a small step backward.
Peter cut off his attempted escape. “Matt, this is our friend Alex Mckenzie. Alex, this law school dropout is Mathew Yeung.” Mckenzie held out his hand and Mathew grasped it eagerly - as if suddenly impressed.
“Alexander Mckenzie” he said. The great detective - San Francisco’s answer to Sherlock Holmes and Mike Hammer.” Mckenzie smiled warily at Mathew before turning a baleful glare on Peter Stewart.
“I think my press agent has been overstating things a bit. I am just a policeman.”
“Yeah right” Mathew replied smiling broadly. Come on, I know you are all hungry so let’s get you a table and get some food out here.”
“About time” Brenda replied. “I’m eating for two you know.”
Mathew seated them and then hurried off toward the kitchen. “Don’t worry about menus” he called back over his shoulder. “Sandy is going to want to fix you something special.”
As they settled into their chairs, Brenda looked first at Mckenzie and then her husband. “Okay guys. Ground rules for the evening. There will be no shop talk by the policeman or the prosecutor. If you break that rule, I will tell you all about in detail my latest intensive care trauma case and no one will have an appetite. Do we have a deal?” Peter glanced at Mckenzie and winked. Simultaneously both men answered “Deal.”
CHAPTER 4
“It’s nice to be friends with the boss” Peter observed as Mathew emerged from the kitchen bearing a large glass bowl. Trailing behind him the bartender, now happy to have something to do, was displaying, with an appropriate flourish, a bottle of wine. Mckenzie caught a glance from one of the other patrons who was clearly wondering who these new arrivals were and why they merited such immediate service.
“Panzanella” Mathew said as if announcing a major culinary triumph. “Tuscan Bread salad. It will hold you until Sandy gets your special pizzas ready.” Without waiting for an invitation, Mathew pulled up a chair, sat down and reached for an empty wine glass. The bartender, quickly introduced as Brian, extracted the cork and began to pour red wine from a bottle of Valpolicella.
“Just a little taste for me” Brenda cautioned. “Pregnant ladies have to stick to water.” She grinned mischievously. “Mostly.”
“Do you know if it’s a boy or girl yet?” Mathew asked.
“No, Doctor Kuhn doesn’t like to do ultrasound until 18 weeks and I’m only a little past 12.” “Maybe it will be one of each” Peter Stewart’s voice was equal parts teasing and tenderness.
Brenda had heard that line before. She stuck her tongue out at her husband before laughing. “You better hope not Petey boy because if we have twins you are taking one of them to court with you.”
Despite trying to maintain his habitual expression of placid indifference, Mckenzie found himself smiling at the affectionate playfulness that was an obvious part of Peter and Brenda’s relationship. These two didn’t just love each other, they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
They munched on the salad and sipped the wine - Brenda taking only minuscule sips for a short time before the door to the kitchen opened again. A tall young woman wearing a white chef’s coat came into the room. Long brown hair once folded up into a hair net now flowed over her back. She walked toward them with the fluid grace of an athlete. The smile on her face was as welcoming as if she were greeting long lost family.
“Sandy.” Brenda rose to her feet to embrace the namesake of the Trattoria de Alesandra. Noting how she towered over Brenda, Mckenzie realized that she was nearly six feet and certainly taller than her husband. Sandra Costella Yeung was closer to what once was called handsome than she was to pretty. The dark eyes, lightly tanned skin, and muscular frame suggested an earth mother - a heritage not far removed from rural villages of Italy. That image, however, was contradicted by a softly cultured voice reflecting the confident poise of an educated woman.
When Peter made the introduction, Sandy reached out to grasp McKenzie’s hand. Her grip was firm. She held on slightly longer than a man would before grinning broadly at Mckenzie. “So Alex, are you the adult supervision for these two over aged adolescents?”
Alex smiled ever so slightly in response. “Is that your way of saying that I look old?”
Sandy laughed, a merry infectious outburst of gentle good humour. “He is quick, isn’t he? I can see why he is a detective.”
“When do we get to see why you’re a cook? Peter responded teasingly. If you are out here, who is minding the store back in the kitchen?”
Sandy pulled out a chair from the table and sat down beside her husband. “Oh, don’t worry Peter, the specialities of the house are being prepared for you.” Glancing around the room at the few remaining patrons who were finishing their meals or preparing to leave, her good humour slipped slightly. “Besides it looks as if you all are our last customers of the evening. The chef is allowed to take a break.”
Brenda reached over and patted her arm. “Especially when she owns the place.”
Sandy smiled at Mathew. “Half owner” she said.
Mathew looked at Alex, saying aloud what Mckenzie had already sensed. “She may only own half the restaurant but she owns all of me.”
Sandy actually blushed as Peter and Brenda simultaneously said “Awwwwww.” Peter raised his wine glass slightly