“Here he is!” Sophie dropped to her knees and examined the inscription.
Adam walked to the grave and looked down to read the headstone.
“This is your grandfather’s grave?” he asked incredulously.
Startled by his tone, Sophie looked up to Adam, who stood over her.
“Yes, what’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Adam sat down on a patch of grass next to the headstone not far from where Sophie knelt.
“You’re saying Anthony Marino was your grandfather?”
“Yes. You’ve heard about him?” Sophie turned and sat on the grass, facing Adam.
“Sure. But, what exactly do you know about him?”
“I know he was murdered.”
“They never found out who did it, did they?” Adam asked.
“As far as I know, I don’t think so. But I just found out about him, so I could be wrong. That’s really the reason I’m here, to find out what happened to my grandfather.”
“What do you mean you just found out?”
“After I graduated from culinary school, I moved in with my grandmother. Her health had been failing and instead of moving her into assisted living, we wanted to let her stay in her own home, where she was comfortable.”
“That was pretty sweet of you.”
“It also helped me out. But she was sicker than we realized and passed away not long after I moved in.”
“I’m sorry.”
“At least she didn’t suffer. After she died, I came across a scrapbook she kept—one neither I nor my father had ever seen before. It was filled with news clippings of my grandfather’s death and several letters about him.
“I had grown up believing the story that my grandfather had died when Dad was a baby, and after that, Grandma moved to Portland. But according to the articles, she had moved to Portland several years before his death. By the letters in the scrapbook, it was pretty obvious she had run away from her husband, taking her son with her. It all came as quite a shock to Dad, who would have been happier had I never found that scrapbook.”
“He didn’t want to know the truth?”
“No, because, according to the newspaper clippings, my grandfather was… well… a hitman. My dad is very proud. For as long as I can remember, Dad would get so irritated when people assumed Italians and Mafia were synonymous. He refused to watch the Godfather, hated negative stereotypes, and when he would hear stories about the Mafia, he’d go into a tangent about how every ethnic group has a crime element—the Russian mafia, Irish mafia, black gangs, Mexican cartel, and so on.”
“He never knew what his father did?”
“No. But who knows if the stories are true? In a couple of the articles they allude to him being a suspected hitman, but he never went to jail for those alleged crimes. As far as I know, he was never charged.”
“What was the rest of your family like?”
“You mean our Italian relatives?” Sophie asked with a smile.
“Yes.”
“It was just Grandma and Dad. According to Grandma, she had no family, and neither did my grandfather. So, there was no big Italian family surrounding us. Another broken stereotype.”
“What do you hope to accomplish here?”
“I’d like to find out something about my grandfather. I’d love to discover the stories about him aren’t true. I know that would make my father feel better about things. As it is, he’s having a difficult time dealing with all my grandmother’s secrets that he’s uncovered since her death. And, well… I want to know more about what happened to him.”
“You want to find out who killed him?”
“Yes.”
“Is that for your dad, too?”
“No. That one’s for me. My dad says he doesn’t care what happened to the man now that he believes he was a criminal. As for me, the only thing I know for certain is that the man was my grandfather, and I would like to know who killed him and why.”
“It’s been an awful long time Sophie. It’s more than likely that whoever was responsible is dead by now.”
“Perhaps, but I’d still like to find out all I can.”
“Understandable.”
“So, tell me Adam, do you know something about my grandfather? Is he some local legend? The murdered suspected hitman.”
“In all honestly, I doubt many people these days know much about his story.”
“But you do? Why?”
“Probably because my mother, Aunt Kate, and Uncle Jimmy found his body.”
“They were the teenagers who found him?” Sophie asked excitedly.
“I think Aunt Kate came across him first.”
“How is Kate related to you, exactly… and Jimmy?”
“Kate’s my mother’s sister. Uncle Jimmy is my father’s brother. Back in high school, before my parents started dating, Mom and Uncle Jimmy were good friends. They still are, in fact.”
“That’s amazing. What are the chances I’d run into you today? Maybe I could talk with your mom, aunt, and uncle.”
“Sure. I don’t see a problem.” Adam couldn’t help but grin. Perhaps he would get a chance to get to know the lovely Sophie Marino a little better.
“Well, I suppose I should let you get to work,” Sophie said.
“Wait, that’s not all,” Adam told her.
“I don’t understand?”
“I know some other things about your grandfather.”
“Go on,” Sophie said, her attention riveted on Adam.
“It was my father who originally told me about your grandfather. We would come to the cemetery periodically. My dad’s father is here and so is my mother’s grandmother. When we would come to visit their graves, we’d often wander about, reading the headstones. Sometimes my parents would see a grave they recognized, someone they once knew. We’d talk about what kind of people they were.
“I remember when my father first told me about your grandfather. I’d already heard the story about my aunt finding a grave. Dad recognized the name on the headstone. In fact, he hadn’t known your grandfather was buried here. At the time, they assumed he was taken somewhere else for burial. There was no notice of a funeral or anything back then.”
“No. From what I understand my grandfather’s brother-in-law arranged for the burial near my grandfather’s sister.”
“In those articles you read, did you read anything about a motel your grandfather was staying at when he disappeared?”
“Yes. I intended to stop there, but when I called the Chamber of Commerce when planning the trip to get directions, I was told it had been torn down a number of years ago.”
“Yes, it was. The motel belonged to my grandfather. My father and Uncle Jimmy grew up there. They both met your grandfather.”
“Your grandfather owned the Cliffwood Motel? They actually met him?” Sophie asked excitedly.
“Apparently, your grandfather liked his privacy. He bribed my dad and uncle with candy to stay away from his room. They remember him as being a nice guy.”
Sophie smiled “Really?”
“Well, he did give them candy,” he said with a grin.
“Yes.” Sophie laughed. “I imagine it’s pretty easy to win over small boys with candy. So, was there anything else?”
“I remember Garret, my mother’s husband, saying he met him. Your grandfather once bought him some booze. Garret was about sixteen at the time, I think. You could talk to him, too, if you want.”
“That would be great.”
The two stood up. Adam removed his wallet from his back pocket and retrieved a business card. He handed it to Sophie.
“Here. Give me a call when you get settled in at Clement Falls, and we can set up a time to meet.”
Chapter 4
It was dusk when Sophie arrived at Clement Falls. Before leaving Coulson, she’d entered the address of the bed and breakfast into the car’s GPS system, which led her directly to the location without any unnecessary detours.
&nb
sp; Fortunately, there wasn’t any snow on the road, and according to Adam, there had been some snow up at Clement Falls during Christmas, yet it had melted by New Years.
She’d checked out the bed and breakfast’s website prior to making her reservation, therefore it was no surprise to her that the house was an old Victorian with a wraparound front porch. Both house and porch appeared to have been recently painted in canary yellow and crisp white. The grounds surrounding the house were as pristinely kept as the elderly structure.
Nestled amongst the pine trees in the small mountain community, it had once been a boarding house. According to the information she’d read, Clement Falls was a much older community than Coulson. Coulson, according to its chamber of commerce website, had been founded in the late forties by Randall Coulson. At the cemetery, Sophie had admired the elaborate headstone of Randall’s wife, Mary Ellen.
Greeted by frigid mountain air, Sophie slipped a warm jacket over her windbreaker after she got out of the car. Grabbing her overnight bag and purse, she quickly made her way toward the front door of the boarding house, anxious to get indoors.
Hurrying up the front steps, Sophie wondered if she should simply go inside like at a motel. She had never stayed at a bed and breakfast before, at least not one located in what appeared to be someone’s home.
Shivering from the cold, she decided to ring the bell. The porch light wasn’t on, but the sun hadn’t yet completely set. Instead of a buzzer or bell, pressing the doorbell set off a quaint chime melody. A moment later, the porch light flashed on and the front door opened.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. We should have had the light on. Please, come in. You must be freezing!” a cheerful older man greeted as he opened the door and stood to one side ushering her in. “You must be Ms. Marino.”
“Yes, why thank you, but please call me Sophie,” she said with a shiver, hastily moving inside to the warmth of the front entry.
“Are the rest of your bags in your car?” the man asked, noting the overnight bag she carried.
“Just one. I’ll get it after I check in.”
“That isn’t necessary. My son, Nick, can bring it in, but I’ll need your key if you locked the car.”
The man introduced himself as Franklin Myers and showed her to a small office off the entry. From what she had learned online, he and his son, Nick, owned the bed and breakfast, handed down to them from Franklin’s father-in-law, Nick Carracci—the author of her grandmother’s letter.
Standing in the office while Franklin shuffled papers in preparation for her check in, Sophie silently removed her jacket and windbreaker while looking around the room. She had the feeling she’d stepped back in time, considering the antiques and décor befitting a traditional Victorian home.
“We’ve never had anyone stay for a month before,” Franklin said as he handed her the ink pen to sign the register. “Not since it was a boarding house, that is.”
“Well, I appreciate the discount for staying longer.” Sophie signed the book.
“I told Nick I bet you’re an author and came up here to write.”
“No, I’m not a writer.” Sophie smiled and set the pen on the desk.
“So, do you have friends or family up at Clement Falls?”
“Yes, family,” Sophie said quietly.
“Perhaps I know them? Although, I don’t know any Marinos up here.”
Sophie smiled, not ready to tell him who she was. She then heard footsteps running down the stairs, and she heard laughter. It sounded as if someone was being chased. The running and laughter continued when whoever was making the ruckus hit the landing, yet it halted abruptly when they reached the office doorway.
Glancing up, Sophie saw an attractive couple, hand in hand, trying to suppress their giggles in an attempt to look dignified. She guessed they’d been engaged in some sort of horseplay and didn’t realize they had company. The couple stood in the doorway briefly before entering the room.
Sophie had a fairly good idea who the man was—Nick Meyers. He was a much younger and slightly better looking version than the older gentlemen, yet with a darker complexion, black hair, and dark brown eyes. Sophie’s mother had once confided in her when discussing how she’d met Sophie’s father that she believed Italian men were probably the most masculine and handsome men in the world. Looking at Nick Meyers, Sophie thought her mother might be right. Of course, as far as Sophie knew, Nick was only half-Italian, on his mother’s side.
Next to Nick was a petite young woman with auburn colored hair and large green eyes.
“Oh, hello. We didn’t realize anyone had arrived,” the woman said cheerfully. “I’m Kim Meyers, and this is my husband, Nick. You must be the guest they were expecting.”
Before Sophie could answer, Nick spoke up. “Here, let me take your bag upstairs. I believe we spoke on the phone. You’re Sophie Marino?”
“Yes, thank you. Nice to finally meet you… all of you.” Sophie flashed a smile at the couple, then handed Nick her overnight bag.
“Ms. Marino also has some luggage in her car,” Franklin said as he closed the register book. Without being asked, Sophie fished her car keys from her purse and handed them to Nick.
“Please, call me Sophie. Just one large suitcase. It’s in the trunk,” Sophie explained.
“Why don’t you let Kim show you into the parlor. There’s a fire going in there; you can warm up. I’ll put your luggage in your room, and when you’re ready to go up, one of us can show you where you’ll be staying.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said.
“Come, the parlor is this way. Are you hungry? You’re welcome to join us for dinner. Nothing fancy, just some chili,” Kim asked as she led Sophie from the room and down the hallway to the parlor.
“I don’t want to intrude. I understand the room just includes breakfast.”
“Don’t be silly; it’s no trouble. We’ve plenty.” They entered the parlor. Flames flickered from the stone fireplace on the far wall.
“Thank you. Chili does sound good, and I have to admit, I’m a little hungry. I meant to get something before I left Coulson, but I got out of there a little later than I intended and never stopped. I figured I could get something up here after I checked in.”
“I’m afraid there aren’t many choices up at Clement Falls. There’s a diner by the market and a pizza place on the way into the village.”
“How long have you lived up here?” Sophie asked.
“Oh, I don’t live here,” Kim said.
“You don’t? I was under the impression your husband and his father ran the business and lived on the premises,” Sophie said.
“They do. I suppose I should rephrase that. I live here some of the time. I work down in Coulson and pretty much live there. Nick and I got married over Christmas and haven’t quite worked out the living arrangements. Sometimes I stay up here, sometimes he stays down at my place. We’re very flexible and cosmopolitan.” Kim laughed and then walked to a small oak bar in the corner of the room. “Would you like a glass of wine? I’ve a bottle of merlot open, but if you care for a white wine…”
“Oh, merlot would be fine. Thank you.” Sophie walked to the fireplace and put out her hands, warming them by the heat emanating from the fire. She stood there a moment, rubbing her hands together, before moving from the fireplace and sitting on a nearby loveseat.
She watched Kim Meyers pour them each a glass of wine. Sophie felt a bit sloppy, dressed in denims and a wrinkled long sleeved T-shirt. Kim Meyers wore tailored wool slacks, stylish leather boots, and a fitted silk blouse. Absently Sophie touched her ponytail, silently comparing her untidy hair to the well-groomed appearance of the innkeeper’s wife.
“Here we go,” Kim said as she crossed the room and handed Sophie a glass of wine. She sat on the chair across from the loveseat. “Did you have a nice trip?”
“It was a smooth flight.”
“Have you been here before?”
“No. This is my first time to Clement Falls or Coulson.
” Sophie sipped the wine.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me,” Franklin popped his head in the doorway, yet remained in the hall. “I have a couple phone calls to make, before dinner. Did you ask our guest if she would like to join us?”
“Yes, Pop. She’ll be joining us.” Kim smiled up at Franklin.
“Lovely. I’ll see you ladies at dinner,” Franklin said before returning to his office.
“He seems like a nice man,” Sophie commented.
“Yes, he is.”
“You mentioned you lived at Coulson. Have you lived there a long time? It seemed like a quaint town.”
“I grew up there. I moved to Arizona after I graduated from high school but moved back a couple of years ago. It’s home.”
“I was wondering, since you’re from Coulson, are you familiar with the Lucky Lady Restaurant and Saloon?”
Kim cocked her head to one side as she considered the unexpected inquiry.
“Why, certainly. It’s one of the best restaurants in town. It’s been there for years. Why do you ask?”
“Do you know anything about the man who owns it?”
“Adam? Sure. Umm, Adam is… well… my cousin.” Kim chuckled then took another sip of wine.
“Your cousin?”
“Well, actually step-cousin. Why do you ask about Adam?”
Sophie didn’t answer immediately, but played back in her mind the conversation she’d shared with Adam about his high school sweetheart—step-cousin—married over Christmas…
“Oh my, this is embarrassing.” Sophie covered her eyes briefly with one hand and cringed.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why do you ask about Adam if you’ve never been to Coulson?”
“This is a small world.” Sophie took a deep breath and set her half-full wineglass on the coffee table. “I stopped at the cemetery on the way up here. He was visiting a grave, and we got to talking. He mentioned a step-cousin that recently was married. I believe that’s you.”
“You told him you were staying here?”
“No, just that I was coming to Clement Falls.”
Coulson's Reckoning Page 3
