by J. D. Griffo
“How am I going to betray my daughter?” Alberta said. “She’s the one who’s constantly lying to me.”
“A mother is supposed to accept her child’s failures, not flaunt them in their face,” Helen said. “Plus, you need to be in the right frame of mind to tell her and Tommy what happened tonight.”
Alberta threw back her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. She knew they were right, she knew that she was stressed and scared and if she went into her house now, she would take out her frustrations on her daughter. Not that Lisa Marie didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Alberta’s wrath, but no, it was Alberta who needed a time-out.
“Is there any good news at all that we can cling to?” Alberta asked.
“Bruno texted me, he’s taking a red-eye home tonight and will be back in Tranquility tomorrow morning,” Sloan said. “He’s already reached out to the DA to try to get her to reverse her decision about bail.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Joyce said.
Not entirely, Alberta thought.
Bruno bel Bruno was a public defender and a loyal friend to the Ferraras. He’d helped them on cases before, and Alberta was praying he’d not only get Sergio free on bail, but free from the charges against him. Part Sicilian and part Swedish, Bruno was tough, but fair. Unfortunately, he was also honest. If he felt they would need a miracle to win, he’d tell them that, and although she was a devout Catholic, Alberta didn’t want to leave her grandson’s fate solely in the hands of God.
She reached over and grabbed Sloan’s arm, which was resting on the center console. She let out a sigh and shook her head. No more stalling.
“I think I’m ready to go inside,” Alberta said.
“Are you sure?” Sloan asked.
“No, but I’m getting cold,” Alberta replied.
“That’s as good a reason as any,” Sloan said.
When Alberta opened her front door, she saw Lisa Marie and Tommy seated at the kitchen table, their heads tilted toward each other, Tommy’s hands clasped around Lisa Marie’s. She didn’t see rosary beads, but she knew they were praying. Keeping them company was Lola, who was sprawled out on the table even though she knew she was lying in the forbidden zone. When Lola noticed that there were others in the room she let out a loud meow.
Lisa Marie and Tommy looked up at the group huddled by the door still dressed in their fancy clothes and appeared embarrassed, as if they had been caught doing something wrong. Alberta was mortified that she was going to have to add to their sorrow.
“I thought the Ball was going to go well past midnight,” Lisa Marie said. “What are you doing home so early?”
“I could ask you two the same thing,” Alberta said. “Why didn’t you show up like you said you would?”
“Where have you been all this time?” Helen asked.
“Also too, why aren’t you at my place where you’ve been staying?” Joyce asked.
Lisa Marie watched as Alberta and the others took off their coats and gloves, placed their purses on the table, and pulled out chairs to sit. Alberta knew she was stalling but remembered what they had discussed in the car and didn’t confront her daughter, instead, she went over to the sink and filled a teakettle with water. Lisa Marie wasn’t the only one who could mark time.
“We weren’t up for a night out,” Lisa Marie said. “We came here to tell you, but you had already gone. I should’ve come clean and called you, but we knew that you and everybody else would try to convince us to go to the Ball. We chickened out and turned our phones off.”
“Only for a bit, though,” Tommy added. “We were afraid Sergio would call or text and we’d miss him.”
“We’ve been so worried lately, staying up late, getting up early, that we both sat on the couch to relax for a bit and the next thing you know, we fell asleep,” Lisa Marie explained.
“I only woke up because Lola kept whacking me with her paw because she was hungry,” Tommy said. “Otherwise, we’d still be asleep.”
“Sergio didn’t reach out, if you’re wondering,” Lisa Marie said. “We still don’t know where our son is.”
“We do,” Alberta said, turning the flame on to boil the water. “You need to prepare yourself because it isn’t good.”
After Alberta finished telling Lisa Marie and Tommy what had transpired that evening, they looked as shocked as if they had witnessed it firsthand.
“Not good? Ma, this is the worst possible thing that could have happened!” Lisa Marie screamed. “We have to go see him.”
“You can’t,” Sloan said.
“Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do!” she screamed. “My mother might have to obey you, but I don’t!”
“Smettila!” Alberta said. “Sloan doesn’t give me orders and I wouldn’t obey them if he did. But he’s right, we were at the police station and they wouldn’t let us see him.”
“Why not?” Tommy asked.
“Because the DA is taking a hard line on the case,” Joyce said. “For the moment she refuses to set bail and she won’t let Sergio have any visitors until the morning.”
“We need to find a lawyer,” Tommy said. “I can call Elliott.”
“He does personal injury cases, Tom, he helped you when you slipped on that jobsite,” Lisa Marie said. “Natalie isn’t injured, she’s dead!”
“He’s the only lawyer I know!” Tommy cried.
“I already took care of that,” Alberta said. “Bruno’s on a red-eye and he’ll meet us at the police station in the morning.”
“Is he good?” Lisa Marie asked.
“He’s the best,” Helen replied. “Even if he’s only half Sicilian.”
Lisa Marie abruptly rose from her chair and started to pace around the kitchen. Her fists were clenched and angrily shaking at the innocent air. “I should’ve been there for my son, what kind of mother am I?”
She finally stopped and stood in front of the kitchen sink, gripping the edge of it tightly. Without warning, she pounded her fists onto the counter several times, releasing a guttural cry with each blow. Tommy made it to Lisa Marie’s side first and wrapped his arms around his wife, grabbing her wrists to stop her from hurting herself. He couldn’t, however, stop her from sobbing or blaming herself.
“My son needed me and what was I doing?!” she exclaimed. “I was taking a nap!”
“There was no way we could’ve known,” Tommy said.
“We’re his parents! We should’ve known,” Lisa Marie replied.
“Parents don’t always do the right thing,” Alberta said. “We both know that.”
Lisa Marie’s body went limp in Tommy’s arms. An entire lifetime of pain and regret was etched into Alberta’s face and she didn’t try to hide any of it, not the mistakes she made, the fights she started, the silence she perpetuated, she owned all of it. Everyone in the room knew the truth; there was no way she was going to run from it, not when her daughter needed her so desperately.
“Ma, I’m sorry,” Lisa Marie said. “I wasn’t talking about you.”
“I know you weren’t,” Alberta replied. “I was.”
“I have to admit that I never really thought about how you must have felt for all those years,” Lisa Marie said. “I assumed you were happy to be rid of me, but experiencing this pain, knowing that I wasn’t able to comfort my child in his time of need, it’s almost unbearable. How did you survive all this time not knowing what was going on in my life?”
Alberta swallowed hard and took her daughter’s hands in her own. “Because I knew at some point this day would come and I would be able to make up for all the years I wasn’t there for you.”
“Guilt is a two-way street, Ma, remember that,” Lisa Marie said.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Sergio when the police took him away,” Alberta said. “I will not rest until I find out who killed Natalie because that’s what family does for one another. We make things right.”
The Ferrara family set out to make things right a litt
le differently than most other clans. The next day their to-do list started with a trip to the medical examiner’s office.
Vinny was scheduled to have an early morning meeting with Roxanne Garcia, the DA, to discuss Sergio’s case, leaving Tambra to meet Alberta and Jinx at St. Clare’s. They had been to the basement of the hospital that housed the morgue and the medical examiner’s office many times before, but the trip never got easier. The gray walls, the antiseptic smell, the idea that dead bodies were lying in drawers a few feet away, did not create an inviting atmosphere. The only saving grace was that they got to spend some time with Luke, the orderly who ran the morgue. Except when they entered the room someone else was sitting at Luke’s desk. Whoever this person was, she was not nearly as friendly as Luke.
“Who are you?”
“We’re here to meet Tambra Mitchell,” Alberta said. “I’m Alberta Scaglione and this is my granddaughter, Jinx Maldonado. Who are you?”
“I’m the gal who gets to tell you that your name isn’t on the list, which means you need to turn around and leave.”
Jinx leaned over and read the woman’s name from her badge. “Excuse me, Tilly, we’re guests of the Tranquility Police Department and also friends of Pedro Suarez, your boss, so if I may make a suggestion, lose the bad attitude and find our names on that list pronto. Capisce?”
From the scowl on Tilly’s face, it was obvious that she was going to keep her attitude intact. Luckily, Pedro came out of his office and greeted Alberta and Jinx warmly, dousing cheer on Tilly’s surly nature.
“Alberta! Jinx!” Pedro exclaimed. “Lovely to see the two of you again.”
“Hello, Pedro,” Alberta said. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to speak last night.”
“Il bacio mortale del vischio,” Pedro replied.
“I didn’t know mistletoe was deadly,” Alberta said. “It’s supposed be an excuse to kiss.”
“Kiss underneath it, for sure, but mistletoe is a semiparasitic plant and, if ingested, it can cause blurred vision, vomiting, even seizures,” Pedro explained. “It’s definitely poisonous to animals, so keep it away from Lola.”
“No wonder the night ended in tragedy,” Alberta said.
“From what I hear there were two tragedies,” Pedro said. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandson, but maybe I can help clear his name.”
“Thank you, Pedro,” Alberta said. “We can use all the help we can get.”
“Looks like the cavalry has shown up right on time,” Pedro said as Tambra rushed into the room.
“Sorry I’m late,” Tambra said. “It’s been a very hectic morning.”
“Pedro,” Tilly said. “None of these people are on the list. You know the protocol, the names of all visitors must be on the list before they can be allowed entry.”
“So put their names on the list,” Pedro suggested. “Ladies, follow me.”
Inside Pedro’s office the women pulled up chairs and sat in front of his desk. They avoided small talk because they were all anxious to hear the results of the autopsy Pedro performed on Natalie’s body last night. For a man who spent most of his days with only a corpse as a companion, Pedro was surprisingly astute when it came to reading body language. He could see the women wanted answers and that’s what he gave them.
“Natalie Vespa was killed by a single knife wound to the heart,” Pedro stated. “The knife that Sergio was holding when he was found was the murder weapon. From the angle of the wound whoever stabbed Natalie came from behind and was holding the knife in their left hand.”
“My brother’s right-handed,” Jinx said.
“That’s good,” Tambra said. “But it isn’t definitive proof that Sergio isn’t the killer.”
“She’s right,” Pedro said. “Just because someone is right-handed doesn’t mean they don’t do certain things with their left, it’s not an exact science and, on its own, won’t be much help.”
“Did you find anything that will help us?” Alberta asked.
“We might have,” Tambra said. “Forensics found two strands of blond hair inside the snowwoman’s shell.”
“That doesn’t sound suspicious,” Alberta said. “Natalie was a blonde.”
“Two strands of synthetic hair,” Tambra said. “The kind that wigs are made of.”
“Now that does sound suspicious,” Alberta replied. “Although I’m sure you’re going to tell us the strands could have gotten onto Natalie’s body at any point during the day.”
“A prosecutor would say that,” Tambra agreed. “Again, it helps build a case that someone else could’ve attacked Natalie.”
“There was also latex residue on Natalie’s face, concentrated around her mouth,” Pedro explained. “Meaning, whoever grabbed her from behind was wearing latex gloves.”
“That waiter gave you a pair of latex gloves last night,” Alberta said.
“The banquet hall’s kitchen was stocked with latex gloves,” Tambra replied. “I requested one of the waiters bring a pair out to me, along with a plastic Ziploc.”
“Have they done a complete search of the entire Manor?” Jinx asked.
“Spent all night doing just that and came up empty,” Tambra said. “They didn’t find a wig, the used gloves, or any other hard evidence that could be used to point this murder to anyone except Sergio.”
“Per l’amor di Dio,” Alberta muttered. “Then we keep looking. Anything else you can tell us, Pedro?”
“Natalie also had a bruise on her left shoulder, just above the biceps,” Pedro said.
Alberta prayed no one saw the flicker of alarm that showed on her face. She forced herself to look surprised and ask, “From the attack?”
“I don’t think so,” Pedro said. “There was no trace of the latex residue on her arm and the bruise wasn’t fresh, which leads me to believe that it wasn’t caused during the altercation that led to her death.”
“Could it be the result of the fall she took in the snowwoman shell?” Tambra asked.
“It wasn’t postmortem,” Pedro replied. “She definitely got the bruise when she was alive, but it had to have been a week or so ago because it was in the process of healing.”
Alberta made sure she stared straight ahead and looked at Pedro, but from the corner of her eye she could see Tambra staring at her. An experienced cop’s instinct was going to assume the bruise was the result of domestic violence and Alberta didn’t want to give Tambra any more ammunition to believe her instinct was correct. She needed to introduce some new evidence.
“What about the toxicology report?” Alberta asked. “Is it much too soon for that?”
“Last year we received a grant and were able to beef up our toxicology lab, allowing us to run a bulk of the routine tests quicker and more efficiently,” Pedro said. “I’m not going to have the full report for a few weeks, but I was able to detect traces of drugs in her system.”
“Street drugs or prescription?” Tambra asked.
“It’s hard to say at this point because, for the most part, Natalie was a healthy young woman and I didn’t detect the kind of physical deterioration that’s common among drug addicts,” Pedro said.
“I don’t think Natalie was addicted to drugs,” Alberta said. “She spent the night at my house and we had a very rational conversation.”
“She didn’t exhibit any strange symptoms?” Pedro asked. “Sweating, being fidgety, dilated pupils, erratic behavior?”
“None of the above,” Alberta said. “She was calm, lucid, and talked openly about her life, though, sadly, she could’ve told us a nice piece of fiction.”
“You think she lied to you about her history?” Tambra asked.
“At the time I believed every word she told us. That she didn’t have a good family life and she was essentially on her own,” Alberta said. “But Sergio told us that Natalie wanted the two of them to run away again, which contradicts the note she left for me, so I don’t know what to believe.”
“Natalie Vespa was definitely a complicate
d woman,” Jinx said.
“I think it’s time we started to uncomplicate her,” Alberta said.
“How do we do that?” Jinx asked. “The only person who knew her is my brother and he’s in jail, accused of killing her.”
“He’s not the only person,” Alberta said. “I think it’s time we went back to New York and paid Rudy a visit.”
CHAPTER 17
Bussa, bussa. C’è nessuno in casa?
The drive to New York took a lot longer this time due to the heavy snow that was falling. Since Alberta’s BMW and Jinx’s Chevy Cruze weren’t cars that were necessarily built for driving in a snowstorm, Freddy acted as chauffeur and drove them in his Ford Ranger. They didn’t even have to worry that Helen would get angry that someone was taking over what had become her de facto role when they had to go out of town for an investigation; she was the one who suggested Freddy be her substitute. Helen was too busy doling out advice in her new role as The Herald’s Big Sister and couldn’t spare the time to trek to New York even if it meant following a lead in their case.
This time of year, the traffic into the City always increased. The Bridge and Tunnel Crowd, as New Jerseyites were fondly dubbed by native New Yorkers, flooded the George Washington Bridge or the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels to come into New York on a quest to capture the type of holiday magic only a big city could offer. People would spend hours in traffic just to see the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center and maybe spend some time attempting to remain vertical while skating at the adjacent rink. They navigated the busy crowds to ogle the store windows decorated by some of the most imaginative artists in the world. Out-of-town audiences flocked to the countless Broadway shows, concerts at Madison Square Garden, and the pinnacle of holiday entertainment, the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall. It was an enchanted time of year, when New York City sparkled and was bursting with the spirt of the season. The effect was transformative, and even the most cynical New Yorker found they could believe anything was a possibility. Sitting in the back of Freddy’s Ranger, the only thing Alberta could believe was how long it was taking them to get through the Lincoln Tunnel.
