Diamonds, Pies & Dead Guys

by Jennifer Fischetto

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When I leave Winnie's, I head to the police station to finally drop off Kevin's keys. I figure there's no need to snoop in their apartment. It's unlikely I'll find anything important anyway. But when I pull in and drive past the area where the officers park, I spot my brother's truck but not Kevin's Camaro. Maybe I'm too late and he already met with Sanchez.

  I pull over to visitor parking and call Enzo. It rings and rings, and he finally answers when I think his voicemail will pick up.

  "Gianna? Is something wrong?" he asks. There are traffic sounds on his end, and I realize I've caught him on duty on the streets and not sitting at his desk in the precinct. Which now that I think of it…duh. I should know better. Enzo is a uniformed officer, not a detective as he hopes to be someday soon.

  I wince and say, "No, sorry to bother you. I was hoping you were in the station."

  "No, we're driving around. What's up?"

  "I have Kevin's keys. Long story, don't ask. And I wanted to give them to you so that you can give them to him."

  Enzo doesn't immediately respond.

  He and Kevin aren't friends. In fact, Enzo can't stand Kevin almost as much as me, totally because of me. Enzo is two years older than me, and he takes his job as big brother seriously. When he, Kevin, and Izzie were teenagers, Kevin spent time at our house due to his best friend, who is my niece's father. Kevin is the same age as Izzie—five years my senior and three years Enzo's. Kevin was a jerk to me and would flirt and come on to me. I was only twelve when it began, which is gross. I mean, what seventeen-year-old hits on a tween? It doesn't matter that I was already developed and looked older than my age. One day Enzo caught Kevin, and he nearly kicked his butt.

  My dealings with Kevin continued after college when my fiancé died in a car accident and Kevin, already a cop, accused me of killing him. And then when I first returned to South Shore Beach last fall, Kevin planted evidence that made it look like Izzie had committed murder. Okay, so I can't prove that, but I know he did it. And the final nail in his coffin is when Kevin showed up drunk at my apartment, demanded to know if I could truly see ghosts (no doubt that seed was planted by his now deceased wife), and grabbed my arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

  Enzo doesn't know all the details of these events. I didn't share every bit, hoping to keep my brother out of prison, but he knows enough to not trust Kevin. I don't blame him. I can't say I trust the jerk either, but since Kevin has been showing me his softer side, I don't hate him as much. And that makes me feel like such a hypocrite. But it feels like it would be better for Enzo to pass the keys along rather than for me to track Kevin down.

  "Um, are you there?" I ask.

  Enzo clears his voice. "Yeah. Why do you have his keys?"

  I roll my eyes. Didn't I just say it's a long story?

  I assume he won't be satisfied or forthcoming with information until he learns it all, so I quickly tell him about last night in the deli's back parking lot.

  When I'm done, I hear him breathe extra loud, and I'm grateful I'm not his partner Kirby. If that's a sign that I just ruined Enzo's mood, Kirby's gonna wish he called in sick today.

  "So now you're trying to return the keys? Can't you mail them to him?"

  Is he serious?

  I glance up in my rearview mirror and spot several officers behind me at the precinct entrance. Half of them are in uniform and a few in plain clothes. I don't see Kevin, but I do recognize his partner, Sanchez.

  He must be checking out the area and not listening to what his fellow cops are discussing because he's staring at my car.

  "You know what, never mind," I tell my brother. "I'll talk to you later."

  I hang up, open my door, and step onto the pavement.

  Sanchez walks over to me, and I'm glad 'cause I'd rather not talk to him around the others.

  "Miss Mancini, how can I help you?" There's a slight frown on his face, and this is when I realize that as of the night Hilary was killed, I am a suspect. Am I still?

  "Um, I'm looking for Kevin. He mentioned stopping by here now to see you. Has he come by yet?" I ask.

  My question only intensifies his frown.

  "I'm surprised to hear that you're looking for him. Don't you usually want to stay away?"

  I can't help but chuckle. Boy, is he correct.

  "Yes, usually true." I don't elaborate on why I'm here. I don't want to give the man any more ammunition to use against me or Kevin or…Wait! Did I just want to protect Kevin?

  I'm losing my mind.

  Not saying anything forces him to speak next though. "I haven't seen him today."

  He must have changed his mind.

  "Thank you." I turn back to my door, jump behind the wheel, and am ready to take off when my cell rings.

  The display shows my sister's smiling face.

  "Hey, Iz," I say and start the engine.

  "H-Hi, are…are you b-busy?" Her voice sounds strained.

  I fly into super worried mode and nearly shout, "What's wrong?"

  "I-I'm in la-labor."

  Crap!

  "I'm on my way." I don't even ask if she's home. I toss my phone onto the seat next to me, pull into reverse, and hope none of the cops plan on following me for speeding.

  I make it across town to my sister and brother-in-law's two-story Colonial home, park in their driveway behind my sister's car, and rush to the front door. Luckily it's unlocked, and I barge inside.

  "Izzie?" I shout.

  She suddenly appears beside me, panting and holding her belly. Okay, so maybe she didn't poof from thin air and was behind the door or by the stairs when I barged in and I didn't notice her because of my panic.

  I was a teenager when she had my niece, Alice. I don't remember much. I was at school when she went into labor, and by the time I got to the hospital, Alice had been born. I've never done this part before.

  "Where's Paulie?" I ask.

  She holds on to my shoulder while she slips her left foot into a sandal. "At work. I figured you were faster."

  Me?

  "He's a paramedic, Iz. He has flashing lights and sirens and medical equipment." I don't mean to shout. My voice escalates on its own.

  She squeezes my shoulder so tight, I grit my teeth to keep from crying out.

  "Let's go," I say and reopen her front door.

  She begins breathing in and out weirdly and points around the room.

  What is she doing, some kind of mime routine?

  It takes my brain a few extra seconds to realize she wants me to grab her purse, house keys, and overnight bag.

  Once I'm loaded up, I get her outside, lock up, and head to my car.

  She's not moving fast, and when we're almost at the passenger side, she doubles over in pain.

  I'm not sure what to do, so I open the door and gently guide her to the seat. She cannot have this baby in her driveway.

  I throw her stuff onto the back seat and practically fly around my Kia. Once I have my key in the ignition, I pull out my phone and give it to her.

  "Call Paulie. Call everyone."

  I back out of the driveway and pray there are no red lights between here and the hospital.

  We arrive in ten minutes. By the time we've made it through triage and the nurse has Izzie in a wheelchair ready for the delivery floor, Ma rushes in, and I'm saved from deciding if I should go up with my sister. It's not that I don't want to be there to experience the miracle of birth. I just don't want to be there to experience the miracle of birth.

  Ma's eyes are as wild as her hair. "Where is she? Is she okay? Why did she call you and not her husband with the ambulance?"

  My question exactly.

  I shrug and shake my head, and Paulie is running toward us.

  "Why didn't she call me?"

  I'm still shaking when he passes me and starts walking to where Izzie disappeared. He looks over his shoulder to us and says, "Come on."

  We follow him onto the elevator and up to the fourth floor.
r />   "Is Pop at the deli?" I ask as the doors whoosh open, and we step onto the quiet, sterile-smelling floor.

  "Yes," Ma whispers as if we're in a library. "He's going to lock up early and come over soon."

  Paulie points to an empty area of chairs. "You can wait in there."

  Ma heads over to a seat, and I give him a harder stare.

  His eyes are wider than normal, and he looks a little shell-shocked.

  "Are you okay?" I ask and remember this is his first baby.

  He loves Alice as if she's his own, but he wasn't around for her birth. She was nine when he and my sister married. Of course, he must deal with laboring moms at his job, but it's probably different when it's your own wife and child.

  He nods and swallows hard.

  I can't help but softly laugh. Then I squeeze his wrist and say, "You'll be fine. You all will, Dad."

  He snaps out of his trance-like state, smiles at me, and walks down the hall.

  Fifteen minutes later, Pop is on his way. Enzo is still on shift but is heading over as soon as he's off, and I text Julian telling him where I am. Alice had already made plans with friends, and Ma told her it was okay if she didn't want to cancel them. I think it's odd that my niece doesn't want to see her baby sibling the moment he or she is born, but Alice is fourteen and teenagers are weird in general.

  The baby. I have no idea if I'll be getting another niece or a nephew. Izzie and Paulie haven't wanted to know the baby's sex, which led to an interesting array of yellow and green clothing and blankets during her baby shower last month. They even went all out and made the nursery white and green. It's super cute.

  Footsteps sound, and Paulie turns the corner. He looks tired and is scratching his temple.

  The two of us jump to our feet.

  "Well?" Ma says.

  Paulie shakes his head.

  What the heck does that mean?

  "It was just Braxton Hicks, false labor. She's not having the baby today."

  * * *

  I end up staying at the hospital for another hour until they released Izzie. Ma waits for Pop, and they then leave, and I inform Enzo to not bother coming. I walk with Izzie and Paulie to the parking lot so that I can hand over my sister's belongings.

  "I'm so sorry," Izzie says as I reach into my back seat.

  "For what?" I hand Paulie the bag and Izzie's purse.

  "I should've known this wasn't labor. This is my second child." She bites the corner of her lip.

  "It's been fourteen years since you had Alice. I think that's long enough to not exactly remember. No worries, sis. I'm just glad you and my nephew or other niece are okay." I gently place my hand on her belly.

  "That's right," Paulie says and kisses the top of her head. "Next time call me right away, please."

  "I didn't want to bother you if you were on a call."

  "You're my wife. If I couldn't make it, I'd send someone else."

  She frowns hard. "No, I don't want to come to the hospital in an ambulance. I want this to be a normal delivery."

  She says it in a way that would make a stranger think her first birth wasn't normal, but from my recollection there wasn't anything extraordinary back then.

  "I'm tired. Let's go home," she says, so I don't push it.

  "Thank you, Gianna," Paulie says.

  I give each of them a hug, tell them to call me for any reason—even more Braxton Hicks—and drive home.

  I pull into the gravel parking lot, and suddenly Hilary appears in my headlights. Out of sheer fear, I slam on my brakes, but it does no good. She's too close, and I end up driving through her.

  "What the heck was that?" I shout after parking and taking a moment to calm my pounding heart. "You're lucky you're already dead."

  And I'm lucky there's no one around to see or hear me yelling at nothing.

  She widens her blue eyes. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

  "Yeah, that seems to be a common occurrence with you." I'm full of rage at her, and I don't plan on holding back.

  "You told your neighbor I can see ghosts? Did you tell the mailman too? How about your hairdresser or gynecologist? Who haven't you told? What does the word secret mean to you?"

  She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You don't have to keep it quiet. It's cool."

  If it was realistic, my blood would be simmering and very close to a boil. "It's not for you to decide who can and can't know my business."

  I grab my purse and keys and stomp across the gravel (which isn't very easy since it shifts) and unlock the downstairs door to my apartment.

  "I know we weren't speaking back in college, but remember when my fiancé died and your boyfriend accused me of killing him? I can't trust people with secrets. You've proven that to me."

  I'm now stomping up the stairs and only assume she's behind me. Maybe she disappeared again and I'm talking to myself. It wouldn't be the first time.

  But after I unlock the top door and turn to lock back up, I see she's not only still here, but she passes through me.

  How rude!

  I shudder as the freezing air enters my body, and even when she's moved on, it takes a few seconds for the cold to pass.

  When I turn to her, she's floating by the sofa.

  "Tell me again what happened to you. Like all of it, including how Michael visited that night and how you were cheating on Kevin with him."

  I don't actually believe this, but I want to see her reaction. I need to see her deny it and yell at me for even suggesting it.

  But her face doesn't contort into anger. She calmly looks at me over her shoulder and asks, "What do you care? Still have the hots for him? How does Julian feel about that?"

  I'm literally stunned. I don't breathe, can't think beyond "Oh my goodness," and feel frozen or stuck.

  When I'm finally able to speak, I don't hold back.

  "Wow, how did I not see what an awful person you are…were?"

  Something in her gaze flickers, but she looks away too fast for me to dissect it. I, again, expect her to vanish, but instead she turns my way fully, and anger has taken over her delicate facial features.

  Oh, this should be fun.

  "You don't get to judge me. You abandoned me, not the other way around."

  Is she serious?

  I tap the side of my head. "What exactly goes through your mind, Hilary? You betrayed me. Did you honestly expect me to shrug that off and continue hanging out with you? And you knew I had a crush on Michael. It wasn't something small. I talked about how cute he was and how much I liked him constantly throughout sophomore and junior years. We giggled over how much I wanted to kiss him."

  She crosses her arms, rolls her eyes, and looks away. "Michael didn't see you that way."

  A knife twists in my gut.

  "That doesn't matter. You knew, and you ignored the girl code."

  She doesn't say a word.

  "Or maybe you did it on purpose?" I can't imagine that's true. There's no reason for malicious intent. We loved one another.

  "So because I kissed your crush, you decide to screw up my marriage?" she asks.

  She really is delusional. What is wrong with her thinking?

  "That has nothing to do with me." I'm sick of saying this, and I'm sick of seeing her face.

  "Just get out!" I shout.

  I really didn't think she and Michael were a thing. I can't believe it's true and how wrong I am about people.

  She finally disappears, and I just want to cry.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Instead of staying home and going to bed super early to catch up on sleep, I decide to drive to Kevin's motel. I still have his keys, and I want them gone. Out of my mind and life so that I can stop thinking about these two. Okay, so I know that'll be a feat I probably won't be able to fulfill completely. I can't control what my mind thinks of, but I can try.

  I consider going to the apartment before getting rid of the keys, but it's still early enough in the evening. Knowing what I now know of Brenda Johnson, there's no way
I can sneak up the stairs, past her door, and creak around Hilary's rooms without Brenda being aware. I'm not fond of that idea, so it's better to stay out of it. Besides, I'm not helping.

  The motel sits behind the police and transit stations, not far from the bridge entering town. It's not one of the fancy hotels along the boardwalk with room service and amazing views of the Atlantic. It looks like the standard structure with the room doors facing the parking lot. Two stories, sixteen rooms plus a front office, it's not huge, and the exterior needs a facelift, what with the peeling, light blue paint and dirty brick.

  I'm assuming Kevin's rented a room here, and not one of the snazzy hotels, because of funds, which makes me wonder, yet again, about his shiny new car. Not to mention those diamond earrings Hilary was wearing when she died. She always had an eye for quality when we were growing up and talked about making it big, so I doubt those whoppers in her ears were rhinestones. Maybe Kevin saved up for his car for a long time. Not that detectives get paid poorly, but I imagine it's not enough to easily afford an expensive car on top of the apartment and everyday living expenses. I have it made because my folks give me a deal on my rent, but living on the beach on Long Island is far from affordable.

  Not sure which room he's in, I pull up beside his car and blow my horn twice. I could ask the manager, but I don't want this to become an event. I'm only here to drop off the keys and be done with it all.

  There's an almost eerie quiet to the night. Where are the bus and train sounds? The air is thick with humidity, sticky on my skin. I have my windows down to save on gas, and while driving, it was fine. The sun is down, the more oppressive heat of the day gone, and the motion of the car meant a breeze. But now that I've stopped, it's pretty gross.

  I contemplate if I should honk again when my cell rings. I glance down, in between the front seats, and see Julian's face smiling up at me from my console. I'm still annoyed with our earlier conversation, but not enough to ignore his call. I swipe the green circle and bring him to my ear.