Page 58 of Enduring Caine

“How does this work?” I pointed to Henri and then over my shoulder at Johann. “He seems to be a bodyguard, but also knows his way around your kitchen?”

Henri plucked a corkscrew and a bottle of red wine from underneath the island. He opened it and set it aside. “I’ve only been here a year, so still have an escort when I go into town. The first time Johann came with me, it was clear he knew how to cook and how to choose ingredients.”

“I put in a request to Leo to be the exclusive grocery helper.” Johann placed a tray of wrapped meat on the island, and the chef nodded. “Leo went once, complained how boring it was, and the job was mine. I help him shop, put everything away, and he shows me some recipes when we have time.”

Henri cocked an eyebrow at me. “Something wrong?”

I was frowning. Hadn’t noticed it. “Nothing. It’s interesting, that’s all.”

What was going on? I was in the center of a smuggling empire, with a stolen painting on the other side of the house, let alone anything else that could have been hidden away. My mentor asked me to take photos as evidence so they could gain leverage against the homeowner.

And here I was, hanging out in the kitchen, chatting with a French chef and a German bodyguard like old buddies. Like we were going to trade recipes.

“Johann,” said Henri as he fetched some red wine glasses from a cabinet behind him. “Could you get the smoked salmon and bocconcini out? I feel like crostini.”

Mmm. “That sounds good.”

“So, no more advice on dinner other than something Italian?” asked Henri, placing the glasses on the island.

I pulled the glasses to me and poured. It smelled faintly of strawberries and sparkled with tiny bubbles. Odd for a red wine. “To be honest, I eat pretty much anything put in front of me. You should ask Antonio. He’d be able to list off a ton of delicious things, I bet.”

“Ahh, but the instruction was to make your favorite.” Henri leaned forward on the island and said in a mock-whisper, “I was told burgers and fries were popular in the United States.”

“Very true.” I laughed, almost spilling the wine I was pouring. “And French fries are French, like you, so clearly that’s your specialty.”

Johann arrived next to me with the ingredients he’d been asked to retrieve. “And perhaps some bratwurst?”

I handed the glasses to each man. “Here’s to—wait. Can you drink while on duty, Johann?”

“I’m off today.” He raised his glass. “To international cuisine.”

Off duty, but escorting me around the villa since we got back? “Why isn’t someone else watching me?”

“Antonio asked me to stay with you until he’s done with Giovanni.” He took a sip of his wine and shrugged. “Plus, it lets me avoid Leonardo roping me into some other less interesting task. I have a feeling we’re going to be locking down soon.”

Henri paused mid-reach for the cheese. His gaze cast across the kitchen, then settled on Johann. “Locking down?”

Johann put down his glass. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“But…?” I prompted.

He shook his head. “There’s a lot going on right now.”

Henri turned from the island and busied himself with something on the far counter. “Do you think we could go into Cittavera later today?”

“Leonardo’s shaken over the incident in town,” said Johann, rounding the island to see what Henri was doing. “Tomorrow might be better.”

Henri grunted in ascent. The lockdown concept didn’t seem to sit well with him. He looked up at the corner of the room. To one of the security cameras. “I’ll need to get more supplies.”

“They’re being delivered,” whispered Johann, whose back was to me. “Tonight.”

“Groceries being delivered?” I asked.

Henri paused, his back stiffening. I wasn’t supposed to hear that. What were they talking about if it wasn’t groceries or kitchen supplies? Stolen artwork? It made sense that Johann would know about something like that, but why would he tell the chef?

The hairs on my neck prickled. Could Antonio have been right when he was throwing names around? Was Henri—or both of them—with the TPC? No, they were French and German. Interpol, maybe, but not Carabinieri.

Although that could have been why Elliot seemed surprised when I told him I went to school with his man inside.