"Look, Domenic," he said sharply. "I don't want Sal involved in this anymore. She has enough going on in her life. Let the police handle it. They'll keep you updated."
My father straightened up in his chair. "Baloney. The cops are being stingy with details. They haven't even given Linda an update."
Gianna sipped her glass of red wine thoughtfully. "It may be that there's no news to share. We assume that someone who worked at Phibbins must have done it. I mean, how many people know how to embalm?"
My mother put her lipstick away in her cosmetic bag and gave a little shiver. "It's so horrible. Who could do such a thing? Eddie was a lovely man."
I wiped Cookie's face with a burp cloth. She started to fuss, so I rubbed her back until she let out a loud burp, which made everyone laugh.
"A lot of people had motives," I said. "There's Wally, the former driver, who was stealing the urns and then had the nerve to blame Eddie for ruining his life. Zach, the doorman, may have resented him for taking his driving job away. And of course, Arthur wants the family business so bad that he can taste it."
My father nodded vigorously. "That's all true. Don't forget Charlene, who was carrying a torch for Eddie. Or Linda."
Mike looked at him strangely. "What would be Linda's motive? I thought she didn't even want anything to do with the funeral home."
My father pulled the plate of tiramisu back toward him and took a small bite. "Well, it's always the wife, isn't it?"
"You're wrong, dear." My mother smiled at him. "They always say it's the butler."
Grandma Rosa came back into the room and started to clear the table. I gave my squirming daughter to Mike and stood to help her, but she waved me away. "Sit and relax, cara mia. You look very tired."
"She is tired," Mike said grimly as he held Cookie on his lap. "She's too busy to keep running over to that funeral parlor. Find another partner, Dom."
"Mike," I whispered. "Please don't start anything."
"She's helping out her old man," my father insisted. "How would you feel if a friend of yours was murdered? It's only natural I'd want the best detective in the state helping me."
"Sal is not a detective," Mike said hotly.
I was afraid World War III might break out. "Dad, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but Mike's right. I'm not a detective. I think it's time to leave this to the police." I sat back down and reached over to take Cookie from Mike, certain that my speech would make him happy, but his face remained stoic. Cookie had quieted in her father's arms, smiling broadly at the lights of the chandelier above, but as soon I lifted her, she started to cry.
Mike held out his arms. "I've got her, Sal."
Having no choice, I handed the baby back to him, and Cookie immediately calmed. What was I doing wrong? Maybe she sensed how frustrated I was with everything. I simply had to do better. I owed my child more. "Dad, if Linda wants more cookies, she can come to my shop from now on. No more deliveries. I'm sorry about Eddie, but I have to put my family and business first."
Mike shifted Cookie to his left arm and drew me toward him with his right one, placing a kiss on the side of my head. "Hallelujah. Princess, you've no idea how happy that makes me to hear that."
My father said nothing. He stared down at his plate with a morose look then pushed it aside and rose from the table.
"Domenic, where are you going?" my mother asked.
"To bed," he announced without turning around. "No one here cares about my feelings."
My grandmother shook the cake server at him. "Stop acting like a baby. If you are so upset about Eddie's death, then you go and find his killer. Leave Sally alone. If she got herself into danger, how would you feel—"
She never finished the sentence. A loud banging commenced on the kitchen door, followed by a woman's scream. We all froze in terror. Grandma Rosa was the first to recover and hurried into the kitchen.
"That's Gram!" Johnny yelled. He left Alex playing with the Cheerios on his tray and rushed out into the kitchen, with Gianna and me following.
My grandmother opened the door to a sobbing Nicoletta, who was wearing a long, black cotton nightgown. Her bare feet stuck out from underneath it, and with shock, I realized this was the first time I'd ever seen her without her Birkenstocks.
Nicoletta clung to my grandmother, crying. "My house. It is on fire!"
Johnny ran toward his grandmother's home. I rushed into my parents' backyard with my sister, and we stared over at Nicoletta's house. The sun had begun to set behind it while smoke was billowing out of her front windows, forming its own dark cloud.
"I'll call 9-1-1!" Gianna ran back inside.
Mike handed Cookie to me and, without a word, sprinted off after Johnny.
"Where are you going?" I screamed. "Let the fire department handle it!"
He didn't answer me. Johnny was already unrolling his grandmother's garden hose from the caddy in her backyard. He shouted something to Mike, and they both tore around the side of Nicoletta's house. My father stood silently beside me, and my mother appeared a second later with Alex in her arms. Cookie started to whimper as Gianna reappeared and took Alex from my mother. "The fire department is on their way."
My grandmother had an arm around Nicoletta's shoulders. After a couple of minutes of sheer terror, the smoke started to disappear. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank God," Gianna murmured into Alex's hair. "It looks like they got it in time."
"How did it start?" I asked.
The elderly woman wiped at her eyes with a tissue my grandmother had provided. Grandma Rosa was always prepared for disasters. "I upstairs in bed and hear a crash. Then come down and see big hole in my living room window and fire on the floor."
"Who would do such a thing?" my mother wanted to know.
"Crazy kids these days," Dad growled. "Everyone's nuts, I tell you."
My stomach twisted. For some reason, I wasn't convinced that this was a random act by a bunch of kids.
A siren wailed in the distance, and Cookie started to cry as I cuddled her in my arms to no avail. We watched as a fire truck pulled into Nicoletta's driveway. Johnny ran over to meet them and said something to one of the firefighters, who followed him inside the house. I couldn't see Mike, and my anxiety began to increase.
After another minute, we watched a police car pull up next to Nicoletta's mailbox, its red and blue lights flashing, and I cringed inwardly. Of all the worst luck. I knew that car and its number. Brian and his partner, Adam, rushed out of the vehicle and toward the house, but not before I saw Brian's eyes shift in our direction. He shook his head in disbelief and then followed Adam inside.
I kept bouncing Cookie, who had finally started to calm down. Mike ran back over to us. "What happened? Are you okay?" I asked.
He nodded and wiped at the perspiration on his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. "The fire's out. Brian and Adam are inside with the firefighters. Johnny and I were able to put it out with the garden hose. It could have been a lot worse."
"You good boy." Nicoletta nodded at him in approval. "Sally finally do something right in her life."
Grandma Rosa had gone inside and returned with a pair of slippers and a robe from her closet for Nicoletta. The sun had gone down while we were outside, and the temperature was dipping into the forties. "Come," she said. "Some coffee will do us all good."
We all traipsed into the house and gathered around the dining room table. No one spoke as Nicoletta helped herself to a large piece of tiramisu.
I turned to my husband. "What exactly happened?"
Mike gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from Grandma Rosa. "I'm not sure what it was that came through the window," he said, "but the house smells of smoke, and the furniture in the living room is blackened. Brian said he'd be over shortly to fill us in."
As if on cue, the door of the kitchen slammed, and Brian appeared with Johnny behind him. Brian accepted a cup of coffee from my grandmother while Johnny headed right for the wine bottle and helped himself
to a glass.
Brian stood next to me and addressed Mike. "That was quick thinking on yours and Johnny's part. If you hadn't gotten to the fire so soon, the whole place could have gone up in flames."
Nicoletta finished her cake and rose from the table. Her leathery-looking face had turned a sickly white, and despite her snarky comment to me, I was filled with pity for her. She stared at Brian hopefully. "I go back home now?"
Brian shook his head. "Not tonight. There's too much damage, and it's not safe. The arson inspector will be out first thing in the morning to file a report. We do know what started the fire, though. Someone threw an M-80 through your window."
"What's that?" my mother asked, puzzled.
"A powerful firecracker," he explained. "It could have burned the house down."
Nicoletta drew a shaky breath. "It those bad kids who live down the street," she declared. "I could have been killed, and no one care."
"You know that is not true," Grandma Rosa scoffed.
My father reached for another piece of tiramisu. It seemed that only certain types of tragedies affected his appetite, and Nicoletta's fire wasn't one of them. "Brian, I sure hope you catch those punks. Do you think they picked her house at random?"
Brian's mouth formed a tight, thin line. "No. This wasn't a random act."
My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. I had a feeling what was coming next. And why was Brian staring at me? I tried to remain calm and picked up Cookie's rattle from the floor. "Why would someone do this intentionally?"
The bright green of Brian's eyes reflected off the light from the chandelier as he handed me a Ziploc bag. "Don't open it, Sally. It's evidence."
Through the clear plastic I could easily see the message someone had printed with a black Magic Marker, and I sucked in some air.
Tell Your Daughter To Butt Out, Or You'll Be The Next One Lying In A Casket.
CHAPTER TWELVE
My mouth was as dry as a piece of unbuttered toast. Everyone gathered around me to read the message, then their gazes automatically moved to my face.
"Oh no," Gianna murmured.
"Oh yes," Brian shot back.
Mrs. Gavelli gave him an incredulous look. "I no snoop. I never snoop."
"You lie, old woman," Grandma Rosa retorted. "But that message was not meant for you."
Mrs. Gavelli wagged a bony finger in my face. "What this mean? You set my house on fire, missy?"
"This isn't Sal's fault, Nicoletta," Gianna said. "She didn't want to be involved in the search for Eddie's killer in the first place." She narrowed her eyes at our father. "Sal was dragged into this."
"It's my guess whoever did this got the houses mixed up," Brian cut in.
My father threw up his hands in protest. "But Sal was happy to do it. She always helps everyone. Baby girl, why didn't you say something?"
"She did try to tell you." Mike's face was stern. "I believe I know what you're getting at, Jenkins. You think that someone is threatening Sal, and to get even with her, they decided to cause destruction to her parents' house. Only they picked the wrong one."
Brian nodded solemnly. "Exactly." His phone beeped, and he stared down at the screen. "Sally and Mike, I sent Adam over to check on your house. He said that everything looks fine. I'm almost one hundred percent convinced this incident has to do with Eddie Phibbins' murder. Unless, of course, you're working on another case I don't know about?"
I wasn't in the mood for Brian's sarcasm. Furious, I squared my shoulders against him. "No. I'm not. And for your information, I've been trying to stay out of this, but now it looks like I don't have a choice."
Mike groaned and sank wearily into a chair. "Great. I knew this was going to happen. Someone's made this personal, Sal. Why does it always happen to you?"
The room was silent as we all mulled his question over. No one appeared to have an answer.
My father took a sip from his coffee, frowned, and then added more anisette. "It's her fate. Hey, we all have one, right? Mine is to study death in all mannerisms. No big deal, son. It's not like Sal has been going around bothering people. We only made a little visit to Wally's house today after my breakfast meeting with Arthur. Then Sal and Josie chatted with Charlene, the cosmetologist. Nothing to worry about."
I loved my father dearly but wished that he would stop talking. Mike's eyes flashed angry blue sparks as my father continued rambling. Dad always had a knack for saying the wrong thing at the right time.
Brian placed his hands on his slim hips. "Wally is the guy that Eddie fired for stealing from him, correct? Domenic, why would you go to see him and meet with Arthur when he's at odds with his brother, one of your good friends?"
"Is there no end?" Mike wanted to know.
My father gave Brian a noncommittal look. "Arthur asked for me personally. He wants to advertise on my blog when he buys the funeral home from Linda. He's positive she'll sell it to him."
A vein bulged in Brian's neck. "How interesting. Is there anyone else that you and your daughter have talked to? Might as well enlighten me now."
"No one," I cut in.
"Sal's right." Dad helped himself to more tiramisu. "Oh, wait a second. You and Josie talked to Zach, right? That old bugger is as dedicated to the place as you can get."
Cookie was fussing, so Mike lifted her out of her bouncy seat. "I think she needs to be changed," he said to no one in particular. Before I could say anything, he headed upstairs with the baby.
All I wanted to do right now was scream in frustration. Mike was furious, that was plain to see, and I honestly couldn't blame him. I'd dug myself a shallow grave so to speak and didn't know how to get out. Good grief. Now I was coming up with puns too.
Nicoletta finished her drink and rose, pointing a finger at Brian. "So if I no go home, what I gonna do?"
"Stay with Ronald," Johnny said quickly as he poured himself a glass of wine. He glanced at Gianna, who was finishing her third one, and then sighed and pushed his glass in front of her. Someone needed to drive home, and she was in no shape for it. We all knew what was coming next.
Mrs. Gavelli's eyes widened in amazement at she looked at her grandson. "Shame on you. What you think, I some tramp? We no married. I stay with you and Gianna."
The entire room went silent, waiting for Johnny to respond. My sister raised Johnny's glass of wine to her lips and then glared at him, waiting for him to say something—anything. The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with Grandma Rosa's antique cake server. Having Nicoletta under the same roof as Gianna was like striking a match against the side of a box.
Johnny's face turned a brilliant shade of crimson. "Um, maybe you'd rather stay here, Gram, with the Muccios. I mean, you'd be right next to your own home, if you need anything." He gave my parents a pleading look. "Dom, Maria, you've got plenty of room, right?"
"Nope." My father shook his head cheerfully. "Not for the spawn of Satan."
Nicoletta shook her fist at him. "I no want to stay here with this pazza anyway."
"Domenic's not crazy." My mother reached out to run a hand over my father's balding head. "He's so sexy and intelligent. Why, I never know what he's going to do next."
Gianna almost spilled her glass of wine while Johnny suppressed a cough. If there was ever a couple who was perfectly matched for each other, it had to be my parents. They both lived in a fairy tale world.
"It a wonder that Rosa still sane. Everyone here is pazza." Nicoletta grabbed her handbag off the table and shook it menacingly at Johnny. "I be in your car," she said. "You no keep me waiting."
Gianna gritted her teeth together as Johnny removed Alex from the high chair and put his coat on him. Alex waved bye-bye as Gianna poked Johnny in the arm. "Why didn't you tell her no?" she asked. "You know that she's impossible to live with! No one knows that better than you!"
Johnny lifted Alex in his arms and stared back at her. "What else is she supposed to do? Go to a hotel?"
"No hotel would have that old broad,"
my father declared as he chewed his cake.
Gianna's shoulders slumped in defeat, and after a moment, she grabbed her purse. "Fine. But she better not try to order me around!"
"You're a dreamer, my precious girl," Dad laughed.
"Domenic," my mother said gently. "I think you should stay out of their discussion."
Gianna picked up the diaper bag and whirled to face my father. "And as for you, Dad," she hissed. "You should have let the police handle the investigation. Now, because you insisted that Sal snoop into Eddie's death, you have Mike upset with her and the Sicilian version of the Wicked Witch of the West staying in my house. Will I ever get any peace?"
"Hmm," my father mused. "Just slip a little Benadryl in her drink, sweetheart. It will knock her out for a few hours."
Johnny touched Gianna's arm. "It's just for a few days, sweetheart."
Gianna leaned down to give me a hug. "Hang in there, Sal. Mike will understand."
Too bad I lacked her confidence. "Never mind about me. What are you going to do?" I wasn't sure who had it worse right now, me or Gianna.
"Say a prayer for me," Gianna whispered in my ear.
"That you survive?" I asked.
"No. That I don't kill her."
* * *
I bathed Cookie when we got home and then nursed her. For once, luck was on my side, and she fell asleep quickly. An evening with my parents was exhausting at any age.
After I'd laid Cookie down in her crib, I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I glanced sideways into our adjoining bedroom. Mike was lying in bed shirtless, watching television, a can of beer on the nightstand beside him. His gaze met mine, and after staring at me for at least a minute with no comment, he returned his attention to the television. I shut the door to the bathroom and gripped the sides of the basin with a sinking feeling. Somehow, I needed to make this right and let him know I hadn't intended for this to happen. But how?
The red nightgown was still hanging on the back of the bathroom door, lonely and forgotten. I'd never gotten a chance to put it on the other night. With a sigh, I quickly undressed and slipped it over my head then shut off the bathroom light and went into our bedroom. As soon as I got into bed, Mike clicked off the television then rolled onto his side, away from me.
Icing on the Casket Page 10
