"Bah," Mrs. Gavelli snorted. "He no sue me. He will burn in hell first. For shame!" she yelled back at the bewildered man.
My grandmother gave Nicoletta a pointed look as we entered the Tropicana. "The devil comes in many different forms."
"What that mean?" Nicoletta punched the button for the elevator and turned to look at Josie and me. "You two come, or you going to party all night?"
Josie waved them on. "I want to grab some coffee first." There was a complimentary pot set up in the lobby, and she walked toward it.
I gave my grandmother a kiss as she and Nicoletta got into the elevator. "What time should we meet for breakfast?"
"I let you know," Nicoletta called out.
"Good night, cara mia. Sleep well." Grandma Rosa stood behind Nicoletta in the elevator, smiling and nodding at me. At the last second, she raised her index finger and pressed it against her white hair in a circular motion then gestured toward Nicoletta. I started to giggle as the door closed.
Josie had her coffee in one hand and was studying the card she'd received on the strip. I poured myself some decaffeinated tea from another carafe. "That woman makes me so tired."
Josie didn't respond.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"These cards," Josie said. "They don't all have the same woman on them. Mine's different from yours. Take a look."
"Do I have to?" I joked but reached for it anyway. I studied the scantily dressed woman with a huge chest that was all but popping out of the extremely low-cut, shimmering silver dress she wore. She was gorgeous, with ebony-colored hair curling around her shoulders and enormous, almond-shaped dark eyes.
Josie peered over my shoulder as I studied the card. "So what do you think?"
"Oh my God. It's Violet."
CHAPTER TWELVE
"I still can't believe it," I told Josie the next morning as we got ready to leave our hotel room. "Violet moved out here to become a…lady of the evening? An escort?"
Josie snickered. "It would certainly explain the expensive house and what Anna said about her having a secret. Some of those women make a ton of money. But why did she leave New York? There's got to be some other reason."
"I'm not positive about the dates, but it sounds like she left right before her father died in Italy. However, I'm not sure if or how it connects to her mother's murder." I blew out a sigh. "I'd love to be able to tell my grandmother what's going on, but maybe Mrs. Gavelli shouldn't know. If only there was a way we could go to see Violet without her tagging along."
Josie glanced at her watch. "It's eight o'clock. If we sneak out now, we might be able to avoid her, but then she'll follow with your grandmother, and all hell will break loose."
I picked up the hotel phone by my bed. "Let me see what I can do."
Fortunately, my grandmother answered. "Good morning, cara mia. Are you ready for breakfast?"
"Um," I hedged. "Where's Mrs. Gavelli?"
"Nicoletta is in the bathroom. She is complaining that the restaurant food made her ill last night, but I believe it is the chemotherapy affecting her stomach."
"Didn't she get done with that about a year ago? The cancer's not back, is it?"
"No," my grandmother said. "She is still in remission, but her doctor told her it may upset her stomach for a very long time, perhaps even the rest of her life. She should be fine in a day or two. I have seen this happen to her before."
My heart filled with pity for the elderly woman. Yes, she was mean, sarcastic, and her mouth knew no filter, but she'd also suffered a great deal in her lifetime. Her only child had died and left her a grandson to raise. Now a close friend—never mind how rotten the other woman was—had been struck and killed by a car on purpose. Plus, she still struggled daily with her fight against bone cancer. It made me realize how fortunate I was.
"I feel really bad for saying this, but it might be better if Josie and I tried to talk to Violet alone. If we can even find her, that is. Remember those cards we were handed on the strip last night? I'm pretty sure Violet was on one of them."
My grandmother clucked her tongue in apparent disapproval. "I was afraid something like this would happen. From what Nicoletta told me, Violet took off very suddenly from New York earlier this year. Nicoletta said she'd landed a good-paying job here, but I figured there must be more going on."
"It's interesting that Violet lived in New York and not New Jersey like the rest of her family," I mused. "What did she do for a living there?"
"I do not know," Grandma Rosa said. "I will tell you that all of the Fiato family lived in New Jersey at one time, Lena and her parents included. Lena met her husband when she came to New York to intern at his law firm. Perhaps Violet was close with Lena and decided to drag along too."
I giggled. "That's tag along, Grandma. It might be a good idea to have another chat with Lena when we get home. Is it okay with you if Josie and I go ahead to Violet's by ourselves? Or would you like us to stay here with you and Mrs. Gavelli?"
"It is not necessary," she assured me. "We must find out who did this to Allegra. Lord knows that I love Nicoletta, but even if she felt well enough to go, she would only make things more difficult. She is like your mama and papa."
"In what way?' I asked, puzzled.
She sighed into the phone. "She is a nutsy cookie too."
Well, at least they were all consistent. "Speaking of Mom and Dad, have you heard from them?" I was curious what had happened at the poker table with the cowboy-like literary agent.
Grandma Rosa gave a loud harrumph. "Yes, I called her earlier. She said they were sleeping in this morning. They want us to meet them for dinner tonight at their hotel's restaurant at five o'clock. She said they have some big news to share. With your mama and papa, that might mean anything from purchasing another casket to moving to Vegas."
"Oh, boy."
"Some days I think that you and Gianna are the adults, while she and your papa are the children," she said evenly. "Does that make sense?"
Unfortunately, it did. "Totally. Something seems to be bothering Gianna. Do you know what it is?"
There was silence for a beat on the other end. "Gianna has not told me anything, but yes, I too suspect that something is wrong."
"It has to be Johnny," I said. "I hope they don't decide to break up. She promised to tell me more when we get home."
Grandma Rosa hesitated again. "All right, then. Call me when you get back from Violet's. Ciao, bella." She abruptly clicked off.
My grandmother's behavior had me concerned as well. Perhaps she didn't know exactly what was bothering Gianna, but she at least had a good idea. Maybe Gianna was sick—that thought filled me with terror. Or maybe she'd lied to me—Johnny had proposed and she'd refused him. Whatever the case, leaving her to tend to my bakery when she had enough problems of her own consumed me with guilt.
Josie waved a hand in front of my face. "Sal, did you hear what I said?"
"Oh, sorry." I placed the phone back in its cradle. "Mrs. Gavelli isn't feeling well, so we're going without her."
"Well, I'm sorry about that," Josie said as we locked the door and proceeded down the hallway to the elevator. "But let's be honest. The woman is not exactly tactful. She'd call Violet a cheap tramp or something, and then we'd all be thrown out on our ear."
"That's pretty much what I was thinking too."
We grabbed a quick continental breakfast and then hailed a cab. The sun was already overhead in a brilliant blue sky, and it appeared that we were in for another scorcher of a day.
"I don't know how the heck people stand the heat out here," Josie complained. "Plus, what will we do if Violet isn't there? Wait around for her to show in this godforsaken sauna of a city?"
"We might have to," I said grimly. "This is probably the last chance we'll have to find her. Our plane leaves at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, so we'll need to be at the airport around nine."
"Ugh, that's right." Josie groaned out loud. "That means home around eight tomorrow night if we're
lucky, then back to work bright and early the next day. This was too short of a vacation."
I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes. "Well, at least you have a lenient boss, ha-ha. A wonderful friend who—oh, I don't know—might let you come in an hour or so later on Monday morning."
"Oh, really?" Josie laughed. "What's the catch?"
I opened my eyes and looked at her. "A trade-off. I was hoping to leave a little early on Monday, maybe about four o'clock, if you don't mind."
"You're the one in charge," Josie said. "So why would I mind? Hey, what's really going on that you're not telling me? Dinner and romance with the hubs?"
My cheeks burned. "Maybe." I still hadn't decided if I'd tell him the news Monday night or wait for our anniversary. It would still be considered an anniversary present, even if it was six days early.
"Sal," Josie whispered. "Did you find out? Are you pregnant? Is that what this is all about?"
I put a finger to my lips, embarrassed for the cabbie to hear. "I don't know anything for certain yet, but I'm cautiously optimistic."
A tear formed in the corner of Josie's eye, and she wiped it away. "Ohmigod, Sal. I'm so excited for you—for both of you. I know how long you've waited for this moment."
"Mike has to be the first one to know officially, so not a word to anyone," I cautioned.
Josie's lower lip trembled. "Oh, this will be so great. Your baby and Jeremy will only be three years apart. I can't wait to throw you a baby shower. Oh, my gosh. What if you have twins?"
"Will you stop?" I couldn't keep the grin off my face. "This will be a dream come true, Jos. I'll have everything I've ever wanted."
The cabbie pulled up to the same security booth as yesterday. I leaned forward from the back seat to speak with the guard, a blonde woman this time. "Hi, we're here to see Violet Fiato, please."
The woman peered in the cab's window at me. "Is she expecting you?"
"No," I said honestly. "But we're friends of her mother. It's about her…inheritance." Okay, a teeny white lie.
The woman's cheeks were tinged pink against her alabaster skin. "Names?"
Violet didn't know who we were—at least I didn't think so. Since Nicoletta wasn't with us, why would she have reason to let us in or even want to? "My name is Sally Donovan. Please tell her my grandmother is Rosa Belgacci."
"One moment," the woman said tersely then slid the window back into place. It was only nine thirty in the morning, but if Violet slept during the day and worked nights, this might be the best time to pay a visit, before she went to bed.
The window slid open again. "She'd like to know exactly what this is regarding."
Great. Think, Sal, think. "Uh, like I said, it's about her inheritance. Her sister, Anna, sent me. It's urgent that I speak with her." I was surely going to hell for all these lies.
The woman stared at us with apprehension and closed the window—this time, slamming it shut. Her mouth moved rapidly behind the glass as she held the phone to her ear, and then she slid the window open again. She spoke directly to the driver, purposely ignoring me this time. "It's number eleven twenty-two. Second home on the left."
"Nice attitude," Josie called loudly as we drove away.
"Shh," I warned. "Must you always cause trouble?"
She gave me a sly wink. "I think you already know the answer to that question."
The driver drove through the opened gate and veered to the left. Josie and I both stared with interest as he pulled up in front of Violet's house. The facade was a light blue stone design, single structure, set on a half-acre sized lot. Despite the heat, the lawn was green and lush, perfectly manicured with white and pink rosebushes adorning it and a row of small evergreens in front of the porch. It was twice the size of my house.
"Very spacious for one person," Josie commented.
It didn't look as if Violet needed her mother's money after all. Maybe she hadn't come to the wake because she just didn't care enough. "Would you wait for us?" I asked the driver. "We shouldn't be more than half an hour."
The driver, a blond man who looked barely out of his teens, nodded. "Sure thing. Take your time."
"Yeah, what does he care," Josie mumbled under her breath as we climbed the front stairs to Violet's porch. "He's getting paid for sitting there."
Before I could ring the bell, the glass-paneled door was opened from the other side by a woman in a blue silk bathrobe. Even though the fine curly mass of dark hair was concealed under a towel and she held a lit cigarette in one hand, it was definitely Violet.
She didn't waste time with pleasantries. "What do you want? Why has Anna sent you?"
"I'm Sally Donovan, and this is my friend, Josie Sullivan. Anna didn't send us. Your mother Allegra was our tenant for a short time in New York. Her friend, Nicoletta Gavelli, is here in Vegas with us."
She shrugged. "Yeah, I know that old lady. Mom was living with her when she passed. But it still doesn't explain what you want."
"We'd like to talk to you about your mother for a few minutes, if that's possible," I said calmly.
She blew out a long, exasperated breath and pushed the door open. "Fine. Let's get it over with. Leave your shoes by the door, please."
Josie and I both reached down to remove our sandals. I stepped onto the thick, plush carpeting that massaged my feet and immediately understood why she'd made the request. Everything inside the house was white and pristine, from the carpet and the leather furniture to the stark walls. The tables and wet bar were glass with gold-plated trimming. French doors led to a wood grain deck, where an in-ground pool, hot tub, and pool house were in plain view. There was abstract art in silver frames on every wall, while an ominous grandfather clock ticked away the minutes. To me, this looked like a staged home. Either Violet was never around or she had a full-time housekeeper.
A white Persian cat was sitting on the leather couch, his large blue eyes regarding us with distrust. When I reached down to pet him, he opened his mouth and rewarded me with a giant hiss. Okay, then. Since I was rather fond of my hand, I removed it from his reach.
Violet scooped the cheerful guy up into her arms and sat down in the matching leather armchair across from the couch. She gestured to the spot where the cat had been sitting. "Make yourselves comfortable."
Josie stared at the couch and then gingerly brushed a clump of white cat hair to the floor before she sat down.
"Sorry about that." Violet stroked the kitty's head as he purred with the intensity of a V-8 engine. "Gus sheds everywhere. I had him groomed last week, but it doesn't help much. My housekeeper is always grumbling about picking up cat hair, but hey, she gets paid well enough to deal with it. Now, what's this about my mother?"
"You do know that she left you money," I began.
She gave an arrogant toss of her head. "I don't need her money and certainly never asked for any. She only left it to me out of guilt."
Allegra felt guilty? It seemed out of character for her. "I don't understand."
Violet's dark eyes met mine. "It's quite simple, really. My mother is ashamed of me."
"Because you're an escort?" Josie blurted out.
"Nice going," I muttered.
Violet's mouth dropped open. "Who told you? Not my mother, that's for sure. She was horrified by my profession. That's the real reason she wouldn't come out here to live. Anna must have told you. They're the only ones in the family who know."
"Your face was on a card that was handed to us on the Strip last night," I said.
Her shoulders sagged. She placed Gus on the arm of the chair beside her, then leaned back against the cushions heavily. "Oh, I forgot about that stupid photo. I posed for one when I first came out here."
"We were hoping you might be able to shed some light on your mother's death," I explained.
Violet shrugged. "I don't know anything. My mother left me money in hopes that I'd go back to my life before this." Her voice turned bitter. "She never cared about any of us. She and my father went back to Italy a
s soon as I turned eighteen. We were pretty much disowned from that point on. Mother and I would talk occasionally, but Anna and Enzo hardly ever spoke to her." She smiled wryly. "When she found out what I was doing here, she was furious."
"How did your mother find out?" I asked.
Violet shifted in her seat and continued to stroke Gus's fur as he closed his eyes in obvious content. "I had to tell her when I thought there was a chance she might come and live with me. And you know what she did? She called me a filthy tramp. My own mother! From there she went on, saying how I was a disgrace—not to mention my ex-boyfriend. She was furious when she discovered who I was dating."
"Someone she didn't approve of?" I was curious myself about the mystery man.
"You could say that." Violet stared out the window. "Look, I didn't wish my mother dead, but I'm not shedding any tears over it, that's for sure."
"I don't think anyone in your family even has tear ducts," Josie blurted out.
She pinned Josie was a cold, dark stare. "Don't judge. You didn't know her—not really, anyway. Mother never should have had kids. She worshipped my father and the ground he walked on, but after he died, she was lost. She needed to find someone else to suck the life out of."
What a cheerful thought and, from what I'd seen, shockingly accurate.
It was as if Violet had read my mind. "Look, she only cared about my father and herself. I didn't want Mother here but knew that my brother and sister wouldn't take her. When she said she was going to live with Nicoletta Gavelli and not her cheap tramp of a daughter—hey, that suited me fine. What do I care what she thinks of me? She certainly didn't care what we thought of her."
She reached across Gus to extinguish her cigarette in a glass ashtray. "I have to quit. Nasty habit. Plus, I don't want it to affect Gus." She planted an affectionate kiss on the top of his head while the cat let out a tiny mew in return. "Everyone thought that she didn't come here because of the climate. Baloney. She was ashamed of what I did."
"What were you doing in New York?" I asked.
She took a long sip out of the drink in front of her, which looked and smelled like a gin and tonic. I rarely drank and couldn't imagine guzzling down a cocktail so early in the morning. "A lowly receptionist job, but there were certain benefits. Like screwing the boss, for example."
Crumbled to Pieces Page 11
