by J. D. Griffo
“Alfie, this is good news,” Vinny said.
“Ah Madonna mia!” Alberta exclaimed. “This is not good news.”
“What are you talking about?” Vinny asked. “We have confirmation that they’re not dead or in the hospital.”
“Which brings us right back to where we started,” Alberta said. “We still have no idea where my daughter and her family are.”
“Which means we have no idea what kind of trouble they’re in,” Jinx added.
Vinny stared at the two women he had grown so fond of these past few years. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on their shoulders.
“Then my team and I won’t stop looking until we find them,” Vinny said. “And on that you have my word.”
Alberta knew Vinny’s word was good, but she still had the feeling that whatever was happening to her daughter was very bad.
CHAPTER 3
Tanto va la gatta al lardo che ci lascia lo zampino.
The Christmas season would be nothing without hope. Hope for peace throughout the world. Hope for an end to mankind’s suffering. Hope that Jinx could sneak into church without attracting Father Sal’s attention. There was a better chance of the first two happening, because the third was at the mercy of the priest’s trained eagle eye.
Standing in the middle of the altar at the top of the steps, Father Sal commanded the stage. He raised his arms to allow his Kelly green vestments to hang in their full glory from his sides. As he walked toward the marble column to his left, his robes rose a few inches off the ground, exposing his ruby red slippers, the gold buckle matching perfectly with the rings that adorned his fingers. His jet-black hair with its streaks of gray at the temple and his thick, black-framed retro glasses combined to give him the look of a slightly aging peacock. One who liked to command his flock.
On top of the column was a candelabra that held four candles, three purple and one pink. Elaborately, he lit a match and lit one of the purple candles because it was the first Sunday of Advent, one of the holiest days in the Catholic religion. The candle was lit for God’s people and represented hope. For all of Sal’s ostentatiousness, he completely believed in the sacraments of the church. He also believed in the public’s desire to be led by a colorful personality.
“Before I let you go to celebrate the first week of Advent on this beautiful though brisk Sunday morning, remember to check out the St. Winifred’s newsletter for all the details about the return of the Mistletoe Ball, which is guaranteed to be the must-see event this holiday,” Father Sal said. “Oh, and anyone who can pull off an old-school Gucci teal and purple tracksuit with Adidas’ hottest new canary yellow running shoe is welcome in my church any time.”
He turned his back on the congregation, then quickly turned around again, making his vestments sway with the movement, and grinned. “Except next time, Jinx, try to make it here before my homily. That really is the best part.”
Every head in the church turned to look at Jinx, who was sitting on the aisle in a back pew next to Alberta, Helen, and Joyce. Some made their disapproval known by tsk-tsking Jinx’s tardiness, while the more fashion-friendly parishioners gave Jinx the thumbs-up. Alberta, however, was not amused.
“Lovey, you’re late and you’re wearing a tracksuit to mass,” Alberta said.
“Betcha it came from Joyce’s closet,” Helen said.
“Indeed, it did,” Joyce replied. “It’s from the eighties and one hundred percent velour.”
“You look cute, but you still shouldn’t waltz into church two minutes before the end of mass,” Alberta said.
“Sorry, Gram,” Jinx said. “I went for my morning run but spent most of the time trying to reach my family. Not one of them has gotten back to me and it’s making me scared and angry and I am officially starting to freak out!”
Father Sal stopped in the aisle when he got to their pew and raised his arms, once again giving breath to his vestments. He knew all the women very well and could tell from their expressions and the volume of their voices that they needed his guidance.
“Ladies, if you need a quiet place to chitchat,” he said. “Follow me.”
Father Sal led them to a small room in the back of the church known as the Mothers’ Lounge. The soundproof room with its long bank of windows was built as a place where mothers with howling babies or rowdy toddlers could seek refuge and not disrupt the ecclesiastical proceedings. There were two monitors on shelves near the ceiling that piped in every word of the sermon. The room honored that old Christian dictate because its occupants were seen and not heard by the rest of the congregation.
When they were all in the room, Father Sal closed the door. But when he heard a sneeze, followed by a very loud sniffle, Sal realized there was an intruder in the room.
“God bless you, Katie,” Sal said. “Now please leave?”
Katie Liakopoulos rubbed the sleeve of her altar girl’s robe across her nose, causing the incense-filled thurible she was holding to sway in front of her. It filled the room with a musky scent not unlike what Jesus might have smelled when he took his first breath.
“You told us to follow you into the lounge,” Katie said.
“My invitation was for ladies only,” Sal replied.
“I’m a lady,” Katie protested.
“That’s debatable,” Sal said. “Now be a good soldier and put the chalice and the other consecrated items back where they belong.”
“Fine,” Katie said, not pleased with being dismissed. However, as she closed the door behind her, she proved she was not only a disciple of Christ, but of Father Sal as well. Pointing to Jinx, she said, “She’s got better footwear than you do, Father.”
“It’s hard to find good help these days,” Sal said. “Now, what seems to be the matter? Are you still fretting over Lisa Marie’s card?”
“No, we’re fretting over Lisa Marie,” Alberta said. “We’ve all tried calling and texting her.”
“My father and my brother Sergio too,” Jinx said. “But no one is getting back to us!”
“Is that unusual, Jinx?” Sal asked.
“Yes!” Jinx replied. “My mother’s not a chatty Cathy like the rest of us, but she always responds pretty quickly when I text her, and if I leave a voice message she calls right back. My father’s even faster.”
“What about your brother?” Joyce asked.
“I never expect him to get back to me immediately,” Jinx said. “But I told him it was urgent.”
“Why don’t you expect Sergio to return your call?” Alberta asked. “Aren’t you two close?”
“We are, but he’s twenty-three, Gram; he’s always running around somewhere or starting a new job or getting involved in a lame, get-rich-quick scheme,” Jinx explained. “I’m used to him getting back to me on his own time.”
Alberta reached into her coat pocket and clutched her rosary beads. She started to pray to the Blessed Mother asking for protection over her family and realized her family might be able to protect itself. Even those members of the family who hadn’t always proven to be very helpful.
“Joyce, don’t Anthony and Tommy still go fishing together?” Alberta asked.
“Anthony hasn’t mentioned anything lately,” Joyce replied. “And they really don’t live near each other.”
“Could you call him and find out?” Alberta asked. “Maybe they planned a family outing and they’re somewhere without cell reception.”
“I thought I was the only one who peddled a leap of faith,” Father Sal said.
“I don’t agree with you often, Sal, but I think you might be right about this one,” Helen said.
“If you have a better idea, let’s hear it,” Alberta said. When her command was met by two pairs of shrugged shoulders, she added, “Joyce, call my brother.”
Anthony Ferrara was the middle child, born in between Helen and Alberta. At a time when interracial marriages were greeted with contempt, he defied social conventions and married Joyce Perkins in a beautiful church ceremony. They l
ived in marital bliss until five years ago, when they realized they had grown apart and wanted to do different things with the remainder of their lives. Anthony moved to Clearwater, Florida, to live with his cousin Ralphie and Joyce took up permanent residence in their lake house in Tranquility. They both still loved each other and neither one of them wanted a divorce, but for now the situation suited them perfectly.
Joyce dialed her husband’s number and put her phone on speaker so the rest of the group could hear their conversation.
“Hey, babe, what’s going on?” Anthony said, sounding much more like a New Jerseyite than a Floridian.
“Have you spoken to Tommy lately?” Joyce asked.
“Not since our last fishing trip,” Anthony replied. “Boy, that man wouldn’t shut up, he scared all the fish away. I swear, he talks more than my sister.”
“Which one?” Alberta and Helen both asked.
“Who’s that?” Anthony asked.
“Your sisters,” Joyce replied.
“Both of you!” Anthony yelled. “Why am I on speaker?”
“It’s a long story, Ant,” Joyce said. “Do me a favor and call Tommy and ask him to tell Lisa Marie to call Berta.”
“That’s never gonna happen,” Anthony replied. “Berta and Lisa Marie disowned each other.”
“We did not!” Alberta protested. “We had a fight.”
“That’s lasted fourteen years!” Anthony shouted. “Listen to me, Berta, the only way you’re going to see your daughter is if you get on a plane and fly down here to Florida yourself.”
“Thank you, Anthony. I can always count on you,” Joyce said. She ended the call and addressed the group. “I’ll get us tickets and we’ll fly down this afternoon.”
“If Muhammad won’t come to the mountain,” Father Sal said. “Then the mountain will take JetBlue to Muhammad.”
“I have a better idea, visit Muhammad without ever leaving the mountain,” Alberta said. “Jinx, is your mother friendly with any of her neighbors? We could just call them and maybe one of them will be able to tell us where they are.”
Jinx hesitated. “My mother really isn’t friendly with anyone.”
“She’s lived on the same block for over a decade; she has to have some friends,” Helen said.
“Mrs. Passanante!” Jinx cried. “She lives across the street from them and she’s the neighborhood watchdog. She literally knows the comings and goings of the entire block. My father can’t stand her, but if anyone knows where they are, she would.”
“Do you have her number?” Alberta asked.
“I should have it somewhere,” Jinx said as she scrolled through the contacts on her phone. “Here it is! Under f.”
“Why f?” Helen asked. “I thought you said her name was Passanante?”
“It’s under f for ficcanaso,” Jinx explained.
“The Italian word for nosy?” Sal questioned.
“I’m so happy you’re making an effort to learn the language, lovey,” Alberta said.
“Quiet, everybody, it’s ringing!” Jinx shouted.
As Joyce did, Jinx put the call on speaker so everyone in the room could hear if the nosy neighbor lived up to her reputation.
“Jinx! How nice to hear from you!”
The voice on the other end of the phone was high-pitched, loud, and had the unmistakable accent of someone who had lived most of her life in Hudson County, New Jersey.
Since that was where most of the Ferraras grew up, they took it as a hopeful sign that Mrs. Passanante would be able to offer them some useful information on the Maldonados’ whereabouts.
“How’d you know it was me?” Jinx asked.
“I have the phone numbers for all the next of kin on the block,” Mrs. Passanante replied. “You know, just in case.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” Jinx replied.
“It most certainly does,” Mrs. Passanante claimed. “Otherwise, it’ll be a repeat of what happened over on McCrawley Drive. If I lived on that block, the Harrisons wouldn’t have returned from their vacation to find a swimming pool where their basement used to be. I could’ve called a plumber and had them fix the water main break before there was any damage.”
“The reason I’m calling, Mrs. Passanante, is because I hope you can help me,” Jinx said.
“Please call me Providencia,” she said. “All the relatives do.”
“Okay, Providencia, the reason I’m calling . . .”
“Is to find out where your mother is,” Providencia replied.
“Yes! How did you know?”
“Because people only call me when family goes AWOL.”
“I’ve been trying to reach them, but I haven’t had any luck, so I was wondering if you had any information.”
“It’s no surprise that you can’t reach them, honey; they’re gone.”
“Gone!” Alberta exclaimed, fearing the worst. “What do you mean, gone?!”
“Who’s that?” Providencia asked.
“That’s my grandmother, Alberta Scaglione,” Jinx explained.
“Oh . . . the mother,” Providencia said.
Alberta did not like the tone of Providencia’s voice. “What do you mean, the mother?”
“You’re the reason Lisa Marie moved her family to Eufala in the first place,” Providencia replied. “She wanted to get as far away from you as possible.”
“My daughter told you that?”
“No, Lisa Marie’s tight-lipped, but her husband, Tommy, madon! He talks more than a widow on the golf course at an over-fifty-five community,” she said. “You know, because golfers are mostly men, and a widow is always chatting up the men, looking for her next husband.”
“Hey, Providencia, tell us what you know right now or I’ll come down there and make a widower out of your husband!”
“That must be Helen!” Providencia cried. “I’ve heard so many stories about you. I thought Tommy was exaggerating, but obviously he wasn’t.”
“I’m serious, Providencia. My Buick is full of gas and I just had the oil changed,” Helen said. “It’s ready for a road trip.”
“It would be a waste of time,” Providencia replied. “Tanto va la gatta al lardo che ci lascia lo zampino. Lisa Marie and Tommy packed up their Subaru and left town a week ago.”
“Did they look like they were going on a trip or were they acting like they had to flee from the premises?” Sal asked.
“Who’s that?” Providencia asked.
“This is Father Salvatore DeSoto, the parish priest at St. Winifred’s of the Holy Well here in the idyllic lakeside community of Tranquility, New Jersey,” Sal replied.
“That sounds fancy!” Providencia replied. “I didn’t realize this call had been blessed.”
“Mrs. Passanante, please!” Jinx cried. “Did they look like they were in trouble?”
“They didn’t rush out in the middle of the night, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “They took a few suitcases and Tommy’s memory foam pillow, which he only takes on long trips.”
“Was my brother with them?”
“No, I haven’t seen Sergio for a while, but you know how it is with him,” Providencia said.
“What do you mean by that?” Alberta asked.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Providencia said. “There’s some activity on the corner and the extension cord doesn’t reach to that side of the house.”
Before anyone could ask another question, the dial tone signifying the end of the call wailed through the lounge, like the cries of its more typical occupants.
“She was rude,” Alberta said.
“And loud,” Helen said.
“Also too, she has a landline?” Joyce added.
“What did she mean when she said that thing in Italian?” Jinx asked. “Tanto something.”
“Tanto va la gatta al lardo che ci lascia lo zampino,” Alberta said, repeating the full phrase. “The literal translation means ‘So much goes the cat to the lard that it leaves us a hand.’”
<
br /> “Which in English makes no sense,” Jinx remarked.
“No, but the figurative translation does,” Father Sal said. “Someone who repeats the same misdeeds will eventually leave incriminating evidence behind.”
“Mrs. Passanante thinks my mother committed some kind of crime?” Jinx asked.
“She’s referring to her leaving home to move to Florida,” Alberta said.
“And now leaving Florida for who knows where,” Sal finished.
“But she didn’t leave any evidence behind!” Jinx yelled.
Lisa Marie may not have left any clues when she and Tommy left for parts unknown, but Vinny, unfortunately, found something that might lead them down a much darker path.
“Vinny sent a text asking me to meet him at the police station,” Alberta said.
“Why?” Jinx asked. “Did he find out something about my family?”
“I don’t know, but he says I should come alone,” Alberta replied.
“After all his talk about sharing information and not leaving anyone in the dark, he just wants to see you?” Jinx asked. “No way. I’m going with you.”
“I rode shotgun with you, Berta,” Helen said. “Plus, I have a feeling I should tag along.”
“I’d join you, but I’m meeting Sloan and Sanjay at the Tranquility Arms for a Mistletoe Ball meeting,” Joyce said, looking at her watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late.”
Joyce ran out of the Mothers’ Lounge, and when she opened the door, the din of the parishioners getting ready for the next mass infiltrated the room. It was time for the group to rejoin the outside world, Father Sal going back to his office to have an espresso topped with some anisette and the ladies going to pay what would turn out to be a surprise visit to Vinny.
When Alberta walked into Vinny’s office followed by Jinx and Helen, Vinny’s face turned gray. He looked fragile, which for a six foot four man with shoulders a football player would envy, was a difficult feat.
“Alfie,” Vinny said. “I told you to come alone.”
“Not on your life, Vinny,” Jinx said. “Not after our agreement to share everything between us. If you have something to tell my grandmother, you can tell all of us.”
