Death & Decluttering

by Nancy McGovern

  “Well, the evidence against your father is next to nothing. It’s practically criminal that he was arrested, frankly,” Brady said. “They’ve got no weapon and no real motive.”

  “And Mom?” Joy turned to her. “Why were you in Chip’s house so late at night?”

  “Never mind the why.” Brady leaned forward. “What’s important is that a medical examination proved that the wound on her head was not self-inflicted. Plus there was no weapon near her. So your mother is definitely innocent.”

  “Well, we always knew that.” Joy took a few seconds to toss a pile of papers to the side, then sat down on the sofa between her parents. She squeezed her mother’s hand.

  “Brady’s an absolute hero,” Joy’s mother said. “You should have seen him charging about and telling the chief what’s what. It was a sight to behold.”

  “It was incredible. I couldn’t believe this was the same little boy who used to sit on my lap and listen to ghost stories.” Joy’s father was misty eyed as he looked at Brady.

  Brady ran a hand through his thick hair and shifted in his seat. “Aw, Uncle, you know it’s not a big deal. If you ask me, there’s no way any case would ever hold up against you. No jury would convict based on the little evidence they have. The chief’s out of his depth with this one. He just wanted to look as though he were solving things, that’s why he made such quick arrests.”

  “But…who did kill Chip Goggins, then?” Joy asked. “I mean, I know it’s not Mom or Dad. But someone killed Chip.”

  “Well, it’s the chief’s job to find out. Though, right now, quite frankly, it seems as though this will end up becoming a cold case,” Brady said. “Our job is, first, to make sure that your parents aren’t in jail and, second, to make sure that their reputations remain intact.”

  “That second part’s a little tough, isn’t it?” Joy asked. “I mean, everyone knows that Mom was in his house by now. In the middle of the night.”

  “That’s where we need your help.” Brady leaned forward.

  “Mine?”

  Her mother flushed. “Yes…well…I can’t exactly tell them the truth.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because the truth is…I was there for Chip’s laptop.” Joy’s mother admitted. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I honestly don’t. I panicked.”

  Joy stared at her. “You…Mom! If the chief found out he’d have you arrested for breaking and entering, at least.”

  “Nonsense,” Joy’s mother said. “It would have been fine, really. I took the key from under that fake rock in his yard. Everyone knows he keeps it there. It was just really bad luck for me that the murderer chose that night to strike. All I wanted was to read Chip’s manuscript. To find out exactly what he’d written about our family.” She made a gesture that somehow managed to include the entire house.

  “Mom, that’s still really wrong of you.”

  “I was just going to make a copy of his file. I wasn’t going to steal the computer or anything.” Joy’s mother looked stubborn.

  “She knew I’d be going over to Beppe’s and deliberately misled me.” Joy’s father looked really angry for a second. “Honestly, Maria, I ought to—”

  “Oh hush, James. You know why I did it. It wasn’t for myself,” Maria said, folding her arms across her chest and looking quite annoyed. Joy got the feeling that they’d had a shouting match about this already…or would have one very soon.

  “Yes, well.” Brady gave Joy a look that said, please don’t let them start. “What’s done is done. It was perhaps not the best choice, but the question is: what now?”

  “What have you told the chief? Surely he asked.” Joy stared at her mother.

  “I told him that the knock on my head had given me amnesia and I couldn’t remember how I got there.” Her mother sighed. “I thought that was best.”

  “Lying to a police officer.” Joy’s father shook his head in agony. “We’re all going to—”

  “James, come on! I’ll confess to a priest if I have to, but I’m not going to jail for murder when I didn’t do anything. You know, with circumstances being as they are right now, Chief Brooks would toss me in jail and then swallow the key.”

  Joy’s father gave his wife a severely-disapproving look. Then he shrugged and said, “I suppose this is no time to start moralizing. So what now?”

  “Look,” Joy said. “Let’s not lose sight of the fact that Mom is innocent. She made a mistake - and a pretty silly one at that - but she didn’t kill Chip Goggins. So the question is: who did?”

  “More like, who didn’t?” Joy’s father snorted. “I had time to think it over - who could want to kill Chip? Well, everyone’s got a reason. Max didn’t look too happy with his uncle these days. Then there’s Wayne Murphy, who swore revenge when Chip had a roll with his wife. Also, Tim Heston once told me he’d gladly wipe Chip off the face of the earth.”

  “Tim??” Joy stared at her father. “My boss, Tim?”

  “Well, sure.” Her father nodded. “Don’t you remember back in ’94 when Chip stole Tim’s idea for an article and it got published in Chicken Soup?”

  “I…don’t.” Joy stared at her father. “Are you serious?”

  “Well, the way I’ve heard it, Tim liked to tell this family legend about his aunt and her missing cow who magically returned ten years later. One fine day, Chip’s going around town showing off a story he wrote about his aunt and her magical horse who returned after ten years.”

  “I...” Joy opened her mouth and then shut it. “Well, that’s just ridiculous. Nobody would kill a man for a stolen article. At least, not so many years later.”

  “Ah, well...” Her father inclined his head. “I’m not accusing Tim. I’m just saying. Plenty of people in town disliked Chip.”

  Joy didn’t know why she’d jumped to her boss’s defense. It did feel a little strange that Tim hadn’t even mentioned this. Then again, why would he? It was a silly dispute from a long time ago. And yet…

  And yet, Joy wondered. Chip’s murder was the product of rage, that much was obvious. The cold-blooded shooting indicated that the killer had a lot of rage inside him or her. What remained to be seen was whether it was a rage that had surged suddenly, or one that had simmered and simmered till it had no other route but to explode.

  What had happened? Joy didn’t know. But, more than ever, she knew that if she ever wanted this town to be home again, she had to find out who had killed Chip Goggins. Right now, it felt like a dark shadow of doubt rested on so many of the people she loved, from Tim Heston to her uncle and aunt with their whispered secrets.

  *****

  Chapter 12

  Mysterious Substances

  Even as she spoke to her parents, Joy had an eye on the rest of the room. In one corner, Beppe was slumped over unhappily as two of his sisters scolded him for his excessive drinking. In another, Matt, the teenage son of one of her cousins, was giggling with Tilly, the seven-year-old daughter of another, as they snuck off the kitchen together. Out of the corner of her eye, Joy saw Aunt Giulia’s face turning red with anger as she talked to Aurora near the dining table.

  “No! Never! It’s an abomination,” Aunt Giulia was saying. She pinched her fingers together and shook them in the air for emphasis.

  “Excuse me.” Joy sidled up to them. Aurora was gazing at Aunt Giulia with a mixture of awe and fear.

  “Is everything alright?” Joy asked.

  “I’m only telling Aurora that real Spaghetti Bolognese never has garlic.” Aunt Giulia pointed at the leftovers that were still on the table. Joy winced. “How could you let her do this, Joy? Garlic! In Bolognese!”

  Aunt Giulia, was friendly and mild with no exceptions. Well, one exception: when it came to pastas, she was a dictator. There was only one way of making them, and that was the traditional way. The poor soul who dared think otherwise would be subject to a tongue lashing and then a demonstration on the real thing.

  “I…er…I didn’t know it would offend your aunt
so much,” Aurora said. “She said she could smell it as soon as she walked in…that I’d put garlic in the sauce.”

  “It’s not done! Not done at all! It is a fine sauce still, perhaps. But once you add garlic it is not bolognese! I allow it when people say they can’t find pancetta here and so they use bacon. Fine. Bacon. Butter. Vegetables. Mincemeat. Wine. Tomatoes. Simple! Some crème fraiche and milk. That’s all there is. The garlic…it ruins a delicate mixture of tastes. It’s…just…not…done!” Aunt Giulia shook her head.

  “Now, personally, I love me some garlic.” Joy grinned. “I think it’s the secret ingredient that makes a good Bolognese.”

  Aurora gave Joy a sideways look and Joy winked at her. Getting a rise out of Aunt Giulia was one of the few simple pleasures of her life and, murder or no murder, she was going to enjoy it. In response, Aunt Giulia stormed toward the kitchen, pulling them both along with a simple motion of her finger. “I’ll show you how the real thing is made,” she said. “You will taste it, and you will see the difference for yourself.”

  “Aunt Giulia, we’ll be up half the night if you start now,” Joy pointed out.

  “What does that matter? Nobody’s sleeping tonight, with Chip’s murder and all.” Aunt Giulia shuddered.

  As the three of them entered the kitchen, there was a shriek of laughter and a roaring sound. Matt and Tilly stood soaked in a thick, blue liquid, and the ceiling was now purple. Aurora gaped at the kids.

  “It was Matt’s idea!” Tilly shrieked immediately, pointing a finger at her older cousin. “He said we should see what happens if we use the blender without the top!”

  Matt wiped a thick mixture of - and Joy was only guessing here - dish soap and blueberries off his forehead. “It’s a science experiment.”

  “It’s a catastrophe is what it is!” Aunt Giulia said. “Matthew Paulo Russo, you clean this mess up right now! Tilly you’re helping him, and I don’t care if it takes all night. Furthermore, you’re probably going to be grounded until you’re both eighteen. At a time like this!”

  “Aw, it’s ok...” Aurora said.

  “Certainly not.” Aunt Giulia looked over at Joy. “Go on, Joy. Lay down the law.”

  Joy’s upper lip fluttered. The smile inside her broke out over her face. Matthew and Tilly looked instantly relieved.

  “I’m just remembering when I blew out your microwave putting a spoon in it,” Joy said to her aunt. “And that time I put chocolate inside your espresso machine.”

  “Well, never mind that. You two kids are going to come over here for the next week and help with whatever work Aurora and Joy ask you to do. So there. I’m going to go have a talk with your parents now,” Aunt Giulia said. “They’ll probably take away all your electronics.”

  “Aunt Giulia pleaaase...” Tilly and Matt followed her out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Aurora blinked.

  “Is…is your family always this…er…interesting?” Aurora asked.

  “You can say ‘chaotic’ if you like. I won’t judge you.” Joy grinned.

  “They haven’t stopped talking since they got here. All of them at once,” Aurora said. “I don’t think there’s been a single second of silence. Everybody just speaks over each other.”

  “Isn’t that normal?” Joy shrugged.

  “Not for me.” Aurora grinned. “I didn’t know how to get a word in, and I kept getting passed off from one relative to another. It was like being on a carousel.”

  “Yeah, they’re the best.” Joy cast a fond look through the kitchen doors at the throng outside.

  “You’re pretty cheerful for someone with an oozing blob all over her kitchen,” Aurora said. She tentatively toed the mass on the floor and sniffed the air. “I think Matt put superglue in there.”

  “My whole house could catch fire and you couldn’t wipe this smile off my face today,” Joy said. “My parents are out of jail and nothing else matters. But you’re right, we’d better get started cleaning out the kitchen before this thing takes root in here.” She hunted out some old mops and a bucket and, soon enough, the two of them were working in tandem.

  “Your Uncle Beppe told me how he and Chip once had a fist fight,” Aurora said as they were down on their knees scrubbing the floor some time later.

  “Uncle Beppe? You mean my father. He’s the one who fought Chip,” Joy said.

  “Not according to your Uncle Beppe,” Aurora said. “He said Chip insulted your grandfather and Beppe was standing up for him.”

  “Uncle Beppe said this? To you? Did he seem sober when he said it?” Joy realized the unlikelihood of that last question. “Uncle B is the gentlest man on the planet. I can’t ever imagine him getting into a physical fight. Drunk? Absolutely. Philosophical? Definitely. Angry? Never.”

  “Still. He’s a strong man - farmers always are,” Aurora said. “What interested me was why Chip would insult your grandfather.”

  “I don’t know either,” Joy said. “But I have to say, if he did insult Nonno, he deserved to be punched out. Nonno was as kind and gentle as Beppe. He was a doctor just like Dad, but he never had much money. He’d give it all away to charity as soon as he made it. That’s the type of man he was. The house was about the only thing he had and, even that, he kind of gave that away, too. Didn’t he?”

  Aurora flushed. “You think I was a charity case for him?” She dropped the scrub brush in her hand with a clatter. “Do you?”

  “Well, that’s the kindest explanation I can come up with,” Joy said. “Can you think of any other reason he left half the house to you?”

  Aurora shook her head. “I’ve learned never to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever his reasons, I’m grateful just the same.”

  There was silence after that as they finished cleaning up. Even here, the differences in their personality were apparent. Aurora had intense focus on one task after another, moving slowly and steadily, while Joy would start working on the floor, then realize the cap of the blender was in her way and get up to wash it, then end up doing all the dishes, then realize that she needed more dish soap, then organize her cupboard…one thing seemed to logically lead into another inside her head and it all ended with her back on her knees, scrubbing out a stubborn stain on the tiles.

  Once they were finished, Joy surveilled the kitchen critically and said. “Not bad at all. I think Matt might have actually done us a favor messing it up. The place looks cleaner than ever - one ruined blender aside.”

  “Feels good, right?” Aurora probed.

  “Fine, I’ll admit it.” Joy grinned. “It’s nice to see it sparkling.”

  “I’m pretty impressed with you, actually,” Aurora said. “That’s a lot of work in a very short time.”

  Joy smiled. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a dusting cloth next to her and, from this height, she could see the kitchen from the eyes of a five-year-old child again. It was a pretty kitchen and, all cleaned up like this, it seemed to invite one to cook and create.

  She had a vision of her grandmother standing at the stove with five or six laughing women arranged all around the kitchen, chopping or kneading dough or gossiping. Then she remembered what Aurora had told her earlier: this wasn’t just her Nonno and Nonna’s house anymore. It was hers, too. Memories were precious, but perhaps it was time for her to start making new ones instead of living in the past. So, with an effort, Joy tried to imagine herself at the stove. She tried to imagine what would make her want to come in here and actually cook, instead of simply heating up tv-dinners.

  “What are you thinking?” Aurora asked her with a smile.

  “That my Nonno and Nonna always had people over at their house,” Joy said. “This - a whole throng of people moving in and out of every room - was normal for them.”