GUNNER (ALTON RHODE MYSTERIES Book 5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

that I didn’t need a plan. The women each had only one appetizer. I have observed that, in the hors d’oeuvres department, when Alice and I are alone she tends to eat like a normal person. Add another female to the mix and each tends to under-eat the other. It worked out well: Mike and I were able to canapé graze at will. By the time the Yorkes showed up, the plate was empty and we decided to grab our table. The walk through the dining room was slow, with both Mike and Yorke stopping to greet people they knew or, in Yorke’s case, potential voters. That meant just about everyone. Luckily, the place hadn’t filled up yet. I didn’t see anyone I knew, but comforted myself by watching all the men at various tables stare at Alice. As we passed one group I heard one man ask, “Isn’t that Amy Adams?”
    When we finally got to our table, I wound up sitting next to Teresa Yorke. The owner soon appeared and told us we didn’t need menus. He wanted to prepare our meal himself and promised we wouldn’t be disappointed. We, of course, gave him the go-ahead. Sometimes it helps to dine with the District Attorney and someone who might be the next Borough President. We briefly debated a wine and decided on a couple of bottles of Ruffino Reserve Ducale Chianti.
    “When in Rome,” Yorke said. He looked at his wife. “I think you will like it, honey. Andrew stocks it for special occasions.”
    “Nathaniel is dropping names,” Teresa said to the table. “He means Cuomo.”
    Yorke laughed.
    “I guess I am. I get along great with the Governor. Even if I hardly ever agree with him.”
    “I think I would like a real drink before the wine,” Teresa said. “Will anyone join me in a martini?”
    The others demurred but, as is my wont when martinis are concerned, I volunteered.
    “Stoli, splash of vermouth, two olives,” she told a hovering waiter.
    She looked at me. I nodded. The waiter left.
    “Thank you, Alton,” she whispered, leaning in to me. “My husband can be a stick in the mud. I’m glad someone manned up.”
    We all engaged in table chit-chat until the wine and drinks came. After the usual glass-clinking routine, Teresa downed half her martini and then turned to me.
    “God, I needed that.”
    “Tough day?”
    “You have no idea. I don’t know where Nathaniel gets his energy.” She laughed. “From not using it elsewhere, I suppose.”
    “You’ve both been doing this a long time. I’m curious. Why did he give up his career in Albany to run for office on Staten Island?”
    “Life upstate can be so limiting. This presented a unique opportunity. New York City is a much bigger stage.”
    The owner started us out with small bowls of Tuscan bread soup and a salad. Our first course consisted of Linguini Puttanesca made with olives, peppers, anchovies, capers and red plum tomatoes.
    “This is delicious,” Linda Cronin said. “I’ve never tasted a sauce like it.”
    “It’s called the ‘sauce of the whores’,” I said. “The name is derived from the Italian word for prostitute, puttana.”
    “Indeed,” Teresa said. “I thought us girls were dressed appropriately.”
    We all laughed.
    “You all look wonderful,” I said. “The name refers to something that a lower stratum of society threw together with whatever was handy in the kitchen, or so the story goes.”
    “I don’t care what they call it,” Mike said. “It’s great.”
    “You’re Irish,” I said. “You can call it Gravy Puttanesca.”
    “Well,” Teresa Yorke said, “whatever it’s called, I think it goes wonderfully with vodka. I think I will have another martini.”
    She held her glass up and twirled it to get a waiter’s attention.
    “I think wine would go better, Terry,” her husband said. “Don’t you?”
    “No, I don’t.” A waiter came over. She looked at me. “How about it, pardner? Still game?”
    It was an awkward moment. Alice shot me a glance. It was as if I was choosing sides between the two Yorkes. I would have