Murder at the Mistletoe Ball

by J. D. Griffo

  “Also too, Kwon may be from Korea, but he makes the most delicious Greek omelets,” Joyce added. “Feta cheese and kalamata olives, it’s my new favorite.”

  “I am a little hungry. I guess I could nibble,” Alberta said. “But who’s Kwon?”

  “Kwon Lee, the new owner and chef of the Tranquility Diner,” Joyce replied.

  “Right, sorry,” Alberta said. “My mind is elsewhere.”

  “Could we get elsewhere before the food gets cold?” Helen asked.

  “Go inside, the door’s unlocked,” Alberta said, rising from her chair.

  As Helen passed by Alberta, she said, “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re snuggled underneath my quilt.”

  “Possession is nine tenths of the law, Helen,” Alberta remarked.

  “It’s on loan, Berta!” Helen cried.

  Once inside, Joyce and Helen hung up their coats on the hooks next to the door. Joyce’s burnt orange cape in bright contrast to Helen’s black parka. They transferred the contents of the bags to plates, and Helen poured them all coffee from the pot that was being kept warm in Alberta’s Mr. Coffee machine. It was a vintage kitchen accessory, but one that Alberta couldn’t live without.

  Joyce cut up a sausage link and half an omelet and put it on a plate for Lola. She daintily ate her breakfast, while Alberta, who was hungrier than she realized, didn’t come up for air until she finished three links of sausage, two pancakes, and a slice of French toast. Helen refilled their coffee cups and cut one of the blueberry croissants in thirds so they could all share. Helen and Joyce immediately started to eat the buttery pastry, but Alberta stared at hers for a moment, as if she had forgotten how to eat.

  “What should I do?” Alberta asked.

  Both women knew she was talking about Lisa Marie.

  “The only thing you can do, Berta, is call her to find out why she needs your help,” Helen said.

  “How can I call her after all this time?” Alberta asked.

  “Because she reached out to you,” Joyce replied. “According to her note, she needs you to call her.”

  “I’m her mother, I should’ve called her years ago!”

  “You tried and she only picked up once to tell you to stop calling her,” Helen said. “We were there, remember? We know what happened.”

  “What happened was that I didn’t try harder,” Alberta said. “I should’ve flown down to Florida and forced her to come home.”

  “That would’ve been a stupid thing to do and you know it,” Helen said.

  “Helen’s right, Berta,” Joyce said. “Lisa Marie didn’t leave in a huff; her departure was contemplated and planned. When she left you, she left for good.”

  “Ah Madon!” Alberta cried. “The two of you aren’t making me feel better.”

  “Because you’re playing the martyr and it doesn’t suit you,” Helen said. “Don’t you remember what Gandhi said?”

  “No, Helen, I don’t,” Alberta said sarcastically. “Why don’t you remind me?”

  “Nessuno brami il martirio,” Helen replied.

  “Gandhi said that?” Alberta asked.

  “Yes. He was the biggest martyr of them all, but he said no one should lust for martyrdom, so knock it off!” Helen cried.

  “I’m not doing any such thing,” Alberta protested.

  “Berta, I know this has made you question your role as a mother,” Joyce said. “But your daughter was the one who packed up and left.”

  “She severed ties with the entire family,” Helen said. “She wouldn’t even see me when I took the girls at St. Dominick’s to Disney World on their senior trip.”

  “She doesn’t live anywhere near Disney World,” Alberta said.

  “I told her I would take a side trip on the way home, and do you know what your daughter said?” Helen asked. “She told me she didn’t need one of her mother’s spies checking in on her.”

  “Dio mio!” Alberta cried. “You never told me that.”

  “Because I don’t like to talk bad about people!” Helen cried. “Now, were you the sweetest, most patient, understanding mother who ever lived? Of course you weren’t. But Lisa Marie was hardly the nicest, most considerate, innocent child either. Back in her heyday, that kid of yours could’ve given Patty McCormack a run for her money.”

  “You’re saying Lisa Marie was a seme cattivo?” Alberta asked.

  “I think calling her a ‘bad seed’ might be a bit harsh,” Joyce said. “But a woman who cuts off ties with her entire family isn’t exactly Little Mary Sunshine.”

  “No child is perfect,” Alberta said.

  “And neither is any parent,” Helen added. “I don’t approve of the passive-aggressive way she’s reached out to you now, but I also don’t approve of your sulking and second-guessing yourself.”

  “I second that,” Joyce said. “About the second-guessing.”

  “For whatever reason, your daughter has contacted you, and no matter how painful it might be, you have no choice but to accept her olive branch,” Helen said.

  “That’s just it,” Joyce replied. “Maybe Lisa Marie didn’t reach out.”

  “I know Lisa Marie hasn’t written to me in years, but I know my daughter’s handwriting,” Alberta said.

  “There was no return address, and did you notice the postage mark?” Joyce asked.

  “No,” Alberta said. “What’s so special about the postage mark?”

  “The card came from Virginia, not Florida,” Joyce replied.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Helen said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Alberta said. “I hate to say it, but now I’m starting to second-guess myself. Maybe it wasn’t from Lisa Marie after all.”

  “There’s only one way to find out, Berta,” Helen said. “Give your daughter a call.”

  * * *

  It took Alberta several hours to work up the courage. Finally, around eight o’clock, she sat on her living room couch, stared at the photos of her family and friends that hung on the opposite wall, and made sure that Lola was comfortable in her lap. She said a quick Hail Mary and crossed herself before punching ten numbers into her cell phone that she had never dialed before.

  Her heart started to pound and somewhere in the back of her head she knew that she should try to control her breathing by inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, but that information stayed buried, and in its place, panic rose to the forefront of her mind. In a matter of seconds, the many years of silence were about to come to an end and Alberta wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear her daughter’s voice after such a long time. Then a terrible thought entered her mind, a thought no mother should ever have to contemplate: Would she even recognize her daughter’s voice? She shuddered. Yes, of course she’d recognize her daughter’s voice; she knew the handwriting was Lisa Marie’s, so she’d definitely know her voice. Wouldn’t she?

  The phone rang a third time and Alberta wondered what she would do when Lisa Marie picked up. Would she be filled with joy or would Alberta only hear the shouts and screams that used to fly out of Lisa Marie’s mouth at the slightest provocation? Would Alberta find the strength to speak or just cry, knowing that she was making contact with her daughter after so many years? All those questions would go unanswered because when the ringing stopped Alberta didn’t hear Lisa Marie’s voice; she only heard an automated recording announcing that the person at this number wasn’t able to take the call. It was as if Alberta had been punched in the stomach. When she heard the beep indicating it was her turn to talk, Alberta discovered that she was unable to speak and hung up.

  Her entire body was tingling—from toe to head it felt as if an electric shock was reverberating underneath her skin. Alberta had looked into the face of fear, but there was no image staring back at her. One second her daughter was there and then she wasn’t.

  “Why did Lisa Marie ask for my help if she wasn’t going to pick up her phone when I called?” Alberta asked the empty room.

  Lola meowed in response and rolled on
her back, expecting Alberta to rub her belly as she always did, but Lola didn’t get her wish. Instead, Alberta redialed Lisa Marie’s number, and this time when the call went to voice mail, she was no longer afraid, she was no longer nervous, she was simply a mother who wanted to speak to her daughter.

  “Lisa Marie, this is your mother.”

  Alberta’s voice was clear and strong.

  “I got your card that you sent me . . . which was a very nice surprise.”

  Some of the bravado was beginning to slip away and doubt was creeping in.

  “You said you needed my help, so I’m calling to offer you that . . . my help.”

  Then all Alberta’s strength was gone; the only thing left was her longing to make contact and her fear that things were far worse than she’d initially imagined.

  “Call me, Lisa Marie, anytime, just call me . . . so I can help you.”

  Luckily, Alberta had nothing more to say because the sob she was holding back erupted with such force that she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, all she could do was cry. She cried for the lost years Lisa Marie was out of her life that she would never get back, she cried for giving in to the cowardice that kept her from reaching out to her daughter, and she cried because she intuitively knew that Lisa Marie was in danger. But how could she help her if she didn’t pick up the phone?

  She called a third time, and once again the call went to voice mail.

  “L’attesa è la parte più difficile,” Alberta whispered.

  She was right—the waiting was the hardest part, after she had waited fourteen years to hear her daughter’s voice again. Instead of redialing, she called someone she knew would pick up immediately. Once again, she was wrong.

  Usually when Alberta called her granddaughter, Jinx picked up within seconds. It didn’t matter if she was at work, on a date with her boyfriend Freddy, or relaxing on the couch binging her favorite TV show, her grandmother’s phone call or text always took precedence. Which was why Freddy found it so odd that Jinx was staring at her phone and not answering it.

  “Dude, aren’t you going to answer?” Freddy asked, looking at Jinx’s phone to see who was calling. “It’s your Gram.”

  “I can’t,” Jinx replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m afraid.”

  “Afraid of your Gram? That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? After what I said the other night, she must hate me. I literally opened up a can of family worms and let them crawl all over the kitchen table while everybody watched. I made my grandmother feel like an idiot.”

  “You said what was on everyone’s mind, and your grandmother respects your honesty. Plus, it wasn’t a literal can of worms because that would’ve been gross even to me and I love to fish.”

  “I’m sure she thinks I’m taking my mother’s side in their stupid feud.”

  Jinx wasn’t crying, but her green eyes were starting to well up. She sat hunched over the couch, her long, wavy black hair falling on both sides of her face, cell phone hanging loosely in her hand, and she was staring off into the distance. Freddy put his arm around his girlfriend and pulled her close to him.

  “Your grandmother isn’t mad at you. All you did the other night was get caught up in the excitement of a potential mother-daughter reunion starring your mother and her mother, and you didn’t stop to think that maybe your mother’s out-of-the-blue shout-out brought up some not-so-pleasant memories for your mother’s mother.”

  Jinx pulled away and smiled at Freddy. She was confused about why her mother suddenly reached out, she was nervous that her grandmother wasn’t happy with her, but she was certain about how she felt about her boyfriend; she was in love. She loved everything about Freddy, from his floppy ears to his inability to stop calling her dude to his undying support of her and her family. If she couldn’t trust him, she could trust no one.

  She kissed him on the lips and pressed a button on her phone. Freddy kissed her cheek and got up from the couch. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  As he closed the bedroom door, Alberta answered.

  “Lovey, I need your help,” Alberta blurted out.

  “My help?” Jinx replied. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “Why would I be mad at you?”

  “The other night when I was, you know, kind of insensitive and told you to just call my mother.”

  “First of all, I could never be mad at you, and second of all, you were right, that’s what I should’ve done from the start. But I did finally call your mother and it went straight to voice mail.”

  “The same thing happened to me.”

  “You called your mother too?”

  “Several times after the card arrived, and she hasn’t called me back either, or returned my texts.”

  “She probably knows why you’re calling her and doesn’t want to put you in the middle of whatever game she’s playing.”

  Alberta rose from the couch so quickly she sent poor Lola scrambling to land on her feet. The cat scurried into the kitchen as Alberta began to pace the living room floor. She was beginning to understand exactly what was going on.

  “That’s it!” Alberta cried. “Why else would she send me a card? I mean, who does that? If she really needed my help, she would’ve called me like a normal person, but she doesn’t need my help, she wants revenge!”

  “My mother doesn’t want revenge! And if she did, she would’ve done it a long time ago. I know it’s been a while, but you must remember my mother is not a patient woman.”

  “Then what could it be? Why isn’t she answering my call?”

  Another thing Jinx had learned from her grandmother, as well as her aunts, was the importance of telling the truth, especially when it came to family. Relationships were only as strong as the foundations they were built on, and if lies and half-truths were part of the structural mix, the bonds would break. The only problem with telling the truth was that sometimes the other person had to hear things that could hurt them.

  “She’s probably not answering your call because she doesn’t recognize your phone number. If you text her and identify yourself, I bet you she’ll respond.”

  The truth of Jinx’s words stung, but Alberta was grateful her granddaughter respected her enough to speak to her without caution. She was even more grateful to know Jinx hadn’t acquired her mother’s perfidious nature. But she was most grateful of all that Jinx stayed on the line with her while she sent a text to Lisa Marie, identifying herself, because when her daughter didn’t immediately respond, Alberta started to panic.

  “She has to know the text is from me, I’m her only mother!”

  “Give it some time, Gram, maybe she’s in the shower.”

  “Does your mother take showers at night?”

  “Well, no, but maybe she changed her routine.”

  “No maybes . . . I’m sorry Jinx, but this doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yes, it does, Gram.”

  “Then why am I on the phone with you instead of your mother?”

  “Because she must really be in trouble.”

  The words slowly sank in and Alberta was finally able to shake off her guilt, shame, and anger so the only thing that remained within her mind and her heart was the truth. Her daughter was in trouble and she needed her help.

  “Meet me at the police station.”

  * * *

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Alberta flung open the doors to the Tranquility Police Station to find Jinx and Vinny D’Angelo, the chief of police and her lifelong friend, waiting for her. Despite the late hour, activity buzzed all around her, but Alberta didn’t see or hear anything; she was focused on the mission at hand.

  “Vinny, I think Lisa’s in serious trouble.”

  “I know, Jinx filled us in,” Vinny replied.

  “Then don’t just stand there!” Alberta shouted. “Look for her!”

  Vinny understood why Alberta was yelling and didn’t take offense. His friend
was frightened—and Sicilian after all—so he was going to do everything he could to calm her fears.

  “Alfie, we’re already on it,” Vinny said. “The Eufala police are going to check on the house and get right back to me.”

  “Vinny is also checking the hospitals, Gram,” Jinx said. “And . . .”

  “I did a search for all the people killed in the last week in Florida,” Vinny said, finishing the sentence Jinx couldn’t.

  Alberta kissed the gold crucifix around her neck and made the sign of the cross. She didn’t want to know the results of the search, but she had to ask. “What did you find out?”

  “Neither Lisa Marie nor Tommy Maldonado show up on hospital admittance forms or any S7 codes, which is the Florida code to report a death,” Vinny said.

  “Thank God!” Jinx cried.

  When the tension in Alberta’s face wasn’t replaced with relief, Vinny knew something was wrong.

  “What is it, Berta?” he asked.

  “Try Sergio Maldonado,” Alberta said. “My grandson.”

  “Oh my God, Gram!” Jinx cried. “I didn’t even think about him.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine, lovey, but he lives with your parents and, well, let’s just make sure they’re all safe.”

  Alberta gripped the edge of Vinny’s desk so tightly it looked like her fingers might break. The three of them remained silent as they waited for the results of Vinny’s new search. Around them, telephones rang, cops called out to one another, a radio was playing softly in the distance, but it was as if none of those sounds existed, nothing else mattered except the information they were waiting to receive.

  When Vinny’s cell phone pinged again it was as if an atom bomb went off in the room.

  “Nothing!” Vinny yelled. “His name doesn’t show up anywhere either.”

  “Grazie Dio!” Alberta exclaimed.

  Jinx grabbed Alberta’s hand and fought back tears. She knew that she should be elated, but something wasn’t right. Her family might not be dead, they might not be in an emergency room waiting to be wheeled into surgery, but Jinx knew they were still in danger; she could feel it. Alberta squeezed Jinx’s hand to give her granddaughter some reassurance even though she shared her fears. From the look on their faces, it was obvious they were still very concerned.