by Fiona Grace
Audrey let out a big puff of air and stared at the detective. “Why don’t you just come out with it?”
He pulled on the collar of his starched dress shirt. “What’s that?”
“That I’m not allowed to leave the city while you’re investigating because I’m a possible suspect. Blah, blah, blah. Right?”
“Bingo. See, Audrey, you could be a detective here. You’ve practically got it all down.”
She sighed. It was nice to have one thing down, since the rest of her life was completely up in the air. When he stood up, she did, too. “I really want you to find the person who did this,” she told him earnestly. “And not just because it happened here. I’m not putting on a show. Despite what you might think, I liked the man. He was very kind to me. He even told me that I could call him at any time and he’d rush right back to—”
She paused, as light-bulb of inspiration struck her.
“What is it, Dottore Smart?”
“Well, I was just thinking. When he failed me for the black mold, he was beside himself. Very upset, because I could tell he was an animal lover. He told me that the second I got it fixed, he’d come over and reinspect so that I could begin operations right away,” she said, tapping her chin in thought. “Maybe someone called him in, pretending to be me?”
The detective nodded. “Could be. Did anyone else know about that deal you made?”
She shook her head. “No. No one …”
Well, except Mason.
But he wouldn’t do that. That was crazy. She’d accused him once and been wrong before. She wasn’t even going to go down that path.
DiNardo was still waiting for her to continue, but she waved it away. “Never mind. Probably has nothing to do with it.”
“All right. Hey,” he said, eyes narrowed. “Can you give me the name of the friend you stayed with so I can check it out?”
“Oh. Um, sure, It’s Mason Legare. He’s at Ventidue via Milano,” she said, wondering if he could see right through her, to her innermost thoughts. For some reason, she felt compelled to add, “We’re just friends.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You said that.”
Great, way to make yourself look more suspicious just because you can’t handle being an adult with normal adult relationships.
He scribbled more down and said, “All right. Thank you.”
“Right. Well,” she motioned to hallway. “If we’re done here, I have a litter of baby bunnies to see to.”
“By all means. Except …”
She cringed and turned, knowing she was not going to like this.
He snapped his fingers for an officer who was hovering in the hallway. “I’m going to have to ask an officer to accompany you. Any time that you’re in the building. I don’t want you to be in here alone. This is a crime scene, and we need to keep it clean. I’ll allow you and only you to come in and take care of the animals, but until we learn more about who did this, I need everyone else to stay away. Do you understand?”
“How long will that take?”
“Couple days. Maybe more.”
A couple days felt like a lifetime, considering all the work she had to do. But she bit the bullet. “All right. That’s fine. Anyway, I have a black mold problem, and I was planning to have someone come in to—”
“Not until this investigation is complete.”
“But the mold can’t be good for the animals—”
“From what I read on the report on the door, it’s in a different area and should not affect them.”
“Yes, should. But he didn’t know for sure. And if there’s any chance their health could be affected, then—”
“Then you’ll have to arrange to move them out of here,” he said, in a final way that told her not to test him.
She gritted her teeth. He might as well have written Not to be trusted in Sharpie on her forehead. After all she’d done for him and Luna? Well, she assumed it was probably just standard procedure, but it made her feel about two inches tall.
“Yes, of course. I understand,” she said, as he moved aside, letting her pass through.
When she did, she could feel his eyes on her, boring into her back, and that’s when she knew it.
This is wonderful. You’re suspect number one again, Audrey. How lucky.
And that meant only one thing. She’d have to find a way to swerve their suspicions in the direction of the real murderer. Whoever that was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Things on the life-and-work front just went from bad to worse, Audrey thought as she went back to her House of Horrors to take stock of what supplies she needed to fix the hole in the ceiling.
As she walked, she noticed people were looking at her again. Or was that all in her mind? Every time a new murder cropped up, she always felt like people were blaming her. Now, even more so, because it’d happened right in her reception area.
She shivered at the thought, hugging herself as she walked down the uneven cobblestone street, even though it was quite warm.
Her phone started to ring on the way. She picked it up. It was Brina, who’d been texting her non-stop since the selfie she’d sent from Agrigento the day prior. But Audrey’s phone had died on the trip and she hadn’t had her charger with her; plus she hadn’t had the time to respond.
Now, as she thought of the sight of that poor man, lying dead, she really wished she could curl up in bed with Brina, like they used to as kids. Whenever she’d have a nightmare, instead of running to her parents’ bedroom, she’d run to Brina, and Brina would hold her and make everything better, usually by telling some silly, meandering story about two sister princesses that made absolutely no sense.
A phone call from Brina, Audrey decided, was the next best thing. She lifted the phone to her ear to spill all her woes when Brina screamed, “Abbbbbbbs!”
Oh, right. Showed where her sister’s priorities were.
“Stop, already. You know, Mason thinks you’re some crazy lunatic who’s obsessed with him.”
“Does he?” She seemed proud of the fact. “Well, I’m only obsessed because I want to make him a member of the family.”
“Believe me. If he isn’t already running for the hills, if you tell him that, he will be.”
She made a clucking sound with her tongue. “Why didn’t you call me last night when you got back? I was waiting!”
“Sorry, I—”
“Doesn’t matter. So what happened? Anything juicy?” She was speaking a mile-a-minute, like she couldn’t wait for Audrey to spill.
“Not really. I mean, he’s sweet. I like him. But …” She shivered as once again, the image of Vito Cascarelli, lying dead in her reception area, crossed her mind.
“But what? If he’s sweet, good with a hammer, and that hot, he sounds like the total package. Is there something I’m missing that the camera didn’t reveal? Dandruff? Halitosis? What?”
“No. He’s perfect. And I like him. But I have other things on my mind now.”
“Oh. So what if the house failed inspection? Invite that hottie to come and help you fix it up, and then the inspector will pass you with flying colors. Meanwhile, the two of you can get coz—”
“The inspector isn’t going anywhere,” she said as she turned onto the street down which she’d find the piazza where she lived. “Since I found him this morning in the lobby of my clinic with a letter opener buried in his throat.”
A long pause. “Um. Say that again?”
“Look, I can’t talk right now, but I promise I’ll call you later, okay?”
“NO! You can not end the call on that note!”
“I have to. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll call later.”
“You’d better,” Brina said, as she ended the call.
Audrey stepped to the doorway, and the first thing she noticed was the bright, white sign that hadn’t been there the day before, taped at eye-level. Attenzione!
It matched the one on the door of the clinic. It had probably been posted there by the inspecto
r, prior to his untimely demise.
As Audrey was throwing open the door, a window across the street popped open. Audrey groaned as a voice said, “Hi, neighbor, haven’t seen you in a while!”
Audrey turned around reluctantly. “Hi.”
“Just wanted to tell you, if you see camera crews around, it’s just for little ol’ me!” Nessa said with a smile. She appeared ready for her close-up, since Audrey could see her lipstick and fake eyelashes from across the street. “They’re starting preliminary work. You know. Studio business.”
Audrey didn’t really know, and didn’t want to know. Before, she’d been a little worried that a camera filming across the street might inadvertently catch her in her bathrobe or something, but those worries had recently been eclipsed by much larger ones. “Gotcha.”
“You think you might be able to … I don’t know … move that sign until filming’s over?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. “It kind of interferes with the charm of the street.”
“I don’t think I’m allowed to touch it,” Audrey replied, trying to scoot through the door.
“I don’t think anyone would stop you. So, you failed, hmm? That’s a shame. Is that why you killed the inspector?”
Audrey’s jaw dropped. Son of a … For some reason, Nessa was always the first to know any gossip around this town. Not to mention, the first to accuse Audrey whenever any wrongdoing happened in town.
She whirled.
Nessa held her hands up in surrender. “Kidding! I’m just kidding. Although, it does make you a pretty good suspect, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe. But I’m not one, since I have an alibi. I was with someone at the time,” she said, almost hoping Nessa would ask who. “I find it suspicious that you know about it, since it only happened last night.”
She shrugged, inspecting her lavender-painted fingernails, and blew on them. “What can I say. I’m a news magnet. It travels straight into my ears, sometimes. I can’t even control it. I heard that the body was found in your clinic, is that true?” she called.
Audrey nodded.
“And that it was all mangled and gross?”
“No, it wasn’t—”
“But is it true he failed the clinic’s inspection, too?”
Oh my God, Audrey thought, staring at her. DiNardo should’ve gotten her on the force, with everything she knew. “Yes. But I liked him. He was a nice—”
“But that really gives you double the reason to kill him. Did he come by, wanting to put one of those papers on your clinic door, and you offed him, then?”
Audrey frowned. Actually, now that she thought about it, there wasn’t a paper on her clinic’s front door. Maybe that was what he had gone there for, and somehow, he’d gone in.
“Your silence doesn’t make you look any less guilty!” she called. “Trust me!”
“Hmm,” Audrey mumbled. She’d had about enough of this conversation, even before it started. “Have a good day.”
“You’re not going in there?” Nessa shouted in alarm.
Audrey stopped with one foot in the door. “It’s my house, so yeah. I was planning t—”
“It’s a death trap. You can get killed.”
“Well, I have to fix whatever is—”
“Hire someone. Like I did.”
“I don’t have the money or the backing of a television studio, unfortunately.”
“Still. You do it yourself and the whole ceiling’s liable to fall in on you. Don’t come crying to me if that happens.”
“If that happens, I’ll be stuck under a pile of rubble, so I probably won’t,” she muttered, though Nessa was probably the last person she’d “cry” to. In fact, if it ever happened that Audrey’s renovations killed her, Nessa would probably throw a party. And videotape it for one of her episodes. “I’ll see you.”
She went inside and closed the door, heaving a sigh of relief when she’d finally closed herself off from her pesky neighbor. At that point, she looked up at the roof, and decided it caving in on her would actually be preferable to enduring a conversation with Nessa.
She looked around the house sadly. She’d only left here a few days ago, and now it felt foreign, desolate… nothing like the home she’d hoped to create. She grabbed a pen and paper and started to make a list of supplies to get at the hardware store, but Nessa’s words kept coming back to her, again and again.
So that’s why you killed the inspector?
Yes, she had a motive. He’d been killed in her clinic. With her letter opener. It made sense that Audrey would be their top suspect.
So now, she’d have to do what she always did. Clear her name so the police could stop focusing on her and catch the real bad guy.
As if she didn’t have anything else on her plate.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Audrey agreed with Nessa that she probably should’ve enlisted someone else’s help for the massive job of renovating the second-story flooring. And Mason, her number one source of free labor, was the obvious choice.
But he was her alibi, and she’d already been relying on him for shelter. As much as Brina tried to shove them together, that was usually when the floor dropped out from under her. So she decided to try to figure out the renovations on her own.
After all, there’s a YouTube do-it-yourself video for everything! she thought as she made her way into the little ma-and-pa hardware store down the street. She had two purposes for the visit; one, to scope out the materials, and two, to talk to Luca, get her key back, and ask him if he’d seen anything.
When she went into hardware stores with her father, there’d always been an air of excitement. The smell of fresh-cut pine boards, fertilizer, and paint mingled together, presenting an air of possibility. She’d become quite an expert on where to find things in the tiny Mussomeli store, even though displays were listed in Italian and there seemed to be very little rhyme or reason to placement. But right then, standing there alone, among the tightly packed aisles, she felt slightly terrified.
This was the biggest job she’d ever taken on, thus far. Part of her wanted to do it herself. Even if her dad wasn’t there to see it, she felt like he’d be proud of her for attempting it. He’d said things like that to her before, when she was hesitant about taking on a task, like her first use of the drill, or the first time she punched a nail with a hammer. You don’t know if you can do it unless you try, right?
Right. And if she screwed up, she could always go crying to Mason for help. That is, if she weren’t trapped under the rubble of her mistake.
Not seeing Luca or anyone else among the aisles, she looked down at her list. She needed two-by-fours, probably a lot of them, but she wasn’t sure how many. Plywood. More nails for her nail gun. Adhesive. Not to mention, a lot of prayers.
As she started loading the materials onto her cart, she felt the presence of a form standing in the doorway, blocking out some of the afternoon light. She looked up and saw the tall, lanky teen with the thick, every-which-way dark hair. He was dragging in his own cart, likely returning from a delivery.
He stood, silhouetted in the door, fidgeting a bit, looking like he wanted to bolt. When she waved to him, he darted his eyes to the side, like he wanted to make a break for it.
Something was up. That wasn’t like him. The boy was a high school heartbreaker, a G-in-training. The first time she’d met him, he’d flirted with her, never mind that she was twice his age.
“Luca? Are you okay?” she called, moving closer.
She had a bit of a history with the boy. He was trustworthy and sweet, and always delivered her stuff on time, which was why she usually tried to tip him well. She walked over to him and was just coming out from the aisle when a tiny dynamo made up of a mess of dark, curly hair, sharp, red-painted fingernails, and perfume rushed up to her. The little Sicilian lady began to scream something at Audrey in rapid-fire staccato Italian. Guai. Trouble.
Though her Italian still wasn’t the best, Audrey was pretty sure the woman was saying that Audrey was t
he trouble.
This was Luca’s mom, and the co-owner of the hardware store with Luca’s father.
Though they’d gotten off to a rocky start when she first arrived in Mussomeli, Audrey had hoped that by buying all of her supplies at the store, she’d get into the woman’s good graces. Apparently not. The woman was screaming so loud, her face so red, Audrey thought she might have a heart attack. There were only a few people in the store, but now they were all staring at Audrey.
“I’m sorry? I can’t speak … I don’t understand …” she stammered, too shocked to even think of the Italian words for “I don’t speak Italian.” Besides, the lady had seen Audrey many times before, and during almost all those visits, Audrey had stammered awkwardly though her requests for various materials. The woman knew darn well Audrey had little idea what she was saying.
Luca came over and said some calming words to his mother. They exchanged a few heated sentences, but eventually, the woman quieted down, let out a dramatic sigh, and headed behind the cash register, still giving Audrey the evil eye.
Luca motioned Audrey outside, to the sidewalk. When she got there, Audrey rummaged through her purse for the proper cash to pay the boy for his services. As she did, she said, “Why does your mom hate me now?”
He raked his hands through his dark hair. “It’s nothing. She says she thinks you killed the man in your clinic.”
Audrey’s eyes bulged. “She said that?”
“And she thinks that because you made me go there, you’re setting me up to be … how you say … the goat?”
She understood. “Scapegoat?”
He nodded. “Yes. That. She thinks the next time the police come, they throw me and you in jail and hide the key.”
“Next time? You mean, the police came here already?”
He swallowed. “Yes. Asking me questions. Many, many questions. I tell them I know nothing.” He scraped his top teeth over his lower lip. “You think they will?”
“Will what?”
“Throw us in jail? Mama say if she use her savings for jail I no have money for university and have to work as a delivery boy until I die.” He shuddered. “I no can do that. Not for her.”
