The Rotelle Ruin: A Romano's Family Restaurant Cozy Mystery, #6

By Rosie A. Point

There's only one way to ruin the Rotelle in Romano's Family Restaurant… Murder.

 

When Gina Romano is invited to a closed-door meeting at the Moretti restaurant, she's suspicious. Turns out Romeo Moretti and his goons are interested in making her "an offer she can't refuse." And Gina, appalled by the thought, is not going to stand for it.

 

Gina climbs out of a bathroom window to evade the meeting and… finds a body in the alleyway behind the restaurant.

 

She's absolutely sure that one of the Moretti family members has committed the ultimate crime, and will stop at nothing to prove it. Even if it means stepping on the investigative toes of the local detective and upsetting her chef boyfriend in the process.

 

The Morettis have gone too far this time. Gina won't let it slide.

 

Can Gina solve the mystery before the Morettis make their bid for escape? Find out in the final book in this fun cozy mystery series from USA Today bestseller, Rosie A. Point. Grab your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosie A. Point
• Release date: Apr 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223158752

Book preview

One

"Gina, it’s to die for. Sasha, pretty in a gray silk bridesmaid dress, perched on the edge of a chaise lounge in the Basil Bridal Boutique. She lifted a forkful of cake and stared at it reverentially. I have never tasted a cake this moist before. No offense." She shot that in Matilda’s direction.

None taken, Matilda replied, taking a bite of the cake herself, her eyes drifting closed. It’s divine. I have to get the recipe for this from Gertrude. Matilda had opted to try on a yellow dress with a cowl neck.

Aunt Sof, who wouldn’t be a bridesmaid but had come along to find an appropriate dress as the mother of the bride, turned around in front of a mirror, smiling at her reflection. She’d chosen a deep plum gown that swept to the floor dramatically. This is my new favorite thing to do, she said.

I was happy that my friends and family were having a good time, but I was nervous.

I’d tried on three different wedding dresses so far, and none of them had wowed me.

Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted to look like a fairy princess at my wedding ceremony, and none of the dresses had given me that feeling yet.

I’ll try a bite of cake in a second, I said, considering my reflection in another mirror.

The Basil Bridal Boutique was outfitted in cream and mint green decor, with a cool interior, and enough cake and sparkling wine and fruit juice to sate the pickiest of customers. It was an outing I hadn’t expected to take until spring was over, but I wanted to get ahead of the game.

Our wedding was in the last week of summer, a small affair with friends and family, and with a cute announcement in the paper to herald our engagement, and I was nervous as heck.

It wasn’t the cold feet type of nervousness, thankfully. It was more like I wanted everything to go smoothly. Given how chaotic things had been in Lake Basil over the past year, what with the Morettis and now the Gallianas, I had my reasons for the anxiety.

Have you found any bridesmaid dresses you like? I asked, turning to my friends.

I love this, Sasha said, touching her fingers to the gray silk, but I don’t think it suits me. I want to try on the dress Matilda’s wearing.

I love this one. Matilda touched her fingers to the fabric. And I love the neckline. I think it’s just perfect to⁠—

A door banged somewhere in the boutique, and I jerked on the spot. I pressed a hand to my chest. My nerves.

Don’t worry, Gina, Aunt Sof said, walking over and lifting her train so it didn’t drag on the ground. You’re just anxious. She patted my cheek. This is going to be the best wedding ever. And Jacob’s going to look so handsome in his suit.

Totally, Sasha said.

Once you’ve picked out dresses, and I don’t mean to rush you, of course, but once you’ve picked them out, we need to get a swatch of fabric for Lou’s jacket pocket. Lou was going to be a bridesmaid as well. He was more friends with me than he was with Jacob, and I wanted him on my side of the wedding party.

Sure! And we can— Sasha cut off and choked, pressing a hand to her throat.

I brushed past my aunt and practically ran to Sasha’s side. Are you OK? What’s wrong? Talk to me?

I just have a crumb of cake in my throat. Sasha stared at me like I’d lost it.

Oh. Oh, OK. I let out a breath. Sorry.

Wedding jitters, my aunt said affectionately.

But this was not a case of the wedding jitters. I’d had this awful feeling lately, one that had crept in over time, that something bad was on its way. Maybe it was because Lake Basil hadn’t had a lick of crime since fall, or maybe it was because I was having a trauma response to all the murders that had happened in town over the past year, but I couldn’t shake this feeling.

Another door banged, and I tried not to react to it.

And then a woman strode through the boutique, carrying a puffy white dress.

Brittany Brown, once Murphy, and always my high school bully, walked toward the reception area where Jolene manned the desk, her horn-rimmed glasses on the tip of her upturned nose.

Jolene, Brittany barked.

Sasha grimaced. Matilda sank a little lower in her chair, and my aunt returned to her mirror, casting a generous helping of side-eye at Brittany. My Aunt Sofia was conflict-avoidant, but she loved a good secret or piece of juicy gossip to disseminate.

Mrs. Murphy, Jolene said, fluttering long lashes behind her glasses. To what do I owe the pleasure?

It’s Brown, Brittany snapped. And you know that.

I’m sorry?

Don’t toy with me, Brittany said. You and everyone else in this town knows that Patrick and I got divorced. So don’t front.

I’m sorry about that, Miss Brown.

Brittany sniffed.

The women stared at each other, and I pictured a tumbleweed rolling across the reception desk.

I pressed my hands to the soft cream fabric of the wedding dress I’d chosen, calming myself by running my fingertips over it. You need to practice breathing techniques because this is dumb. This is supposed to be a fun time, not one filled with anxiety.

Jolene cleared her throat, delicately. Is there something I can help you with, Miss Brown?

I mean, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Brittany pointed at the dress she’d dumped unceremoniously on the reception desk.

It’s not, Jolene said.

I want a refund.

A what?

A refund, Brittany said. For this dress. I want you to give me a full refund and take it back.

I’m sorry, but we can’t do that.

Excuse me? Why can’t you do that? Brittany asked irritably. "I bought it and you have to offer me a refund."

Unfortunately, that’s not true, Brittany. Jolene wore a look of pity as she peered up at the jilted woman.

That’s Miss Brown to you! Brittany stamped her foot. And yeah, you can take it back because I’m not going to use it again, and I don’t want it anymore, and I want my money back. Now.

Jolene sighed. Ma’am, this is a custom-made dress. We don’t do refunds on custom-made dresses. If it was off the rack, then maybe, but you worked closely with our designer to get it made and⁠—

I want to talk to the manager. Now.

Jolene knew better than to argue. She rose from her seat and drifted toward a door that was for staff-only.

Brittany huffed and fisted her hips.

And then, to my interminable horror, she turned around and spotted me.

Pizzaface Romano, Brittany growled, stalking forward, her gaze moving over the wedding dress I had on. I bet you think you’ve won, don’t you?

Aunt Sofia frowned at her. Pizzaface?

Brittany didn’t so much as look in my aunt’s direction.

Brittany, I said, we’re not in high school anymore. I don’t like it when you call me that, so you can stop.

Or what? What are you going to do about it?

Nothing, I said. Nothing. I don’t have to do anything, because you’re the one who looks like a fool when you talk like that.

Brittany let out a screech and grabbed the cake off Matilda’s plate. She wound her arm back and launched it at me like a star pitcher. I dodged the cake, and it splatted to the neat carpeting—thankfully, I’d been spending extra time on the treadmill this week.

Miss Brown! The manager of the boutique, Mr. Swalls, stood in the doorway to the staff area. You’re going to leave this establishment right away or I will call the police.

Brittany pointed a frosting covered finger at me in warning before turning on her heel and marching from the boutique.

Two

I wasn’t going to let Brittany’s bad attitude and cake-lobbing tendencies get to me. Spring had come to Lake Basil, and the temperature had soared with it—a good thing, since that had brought in a rush of tourists early. Romano’s Family Restaurant was making a metaphorical killing thanks to the influx of customers.

And that’s what matters. The wedding, the restaurant, my family.

I directed my Lexus toward the restaurant, slowing as I passed by Moretti’s. It was a habit to check whether they were closed, even though it had been months since Lucia Moretti’s passing.

The restaurant was quiet, but two people stood on the street outside, facing off against each other.

One of them was none other than the petty criminal, Eugene Galliana. The other was a man I vaguely recognized but couldn’t place—tall, pale, and angry.

The taller man grabbed Eugene by the collar and lifted him off the ground, so that the tips of his loafers scraped