Harriet made an O with her mouth. “What did Emil say that made you think about that?”
“He heard her sing a long time ago in Italy. He said she was mesmerizing.”
“Okay, but what does any of that have to do with you? The person seems bent on tormenting you, not Stella.”
“But what if by going after me, by creating rifts in Stella’s life with the people she’s closest to, he’s trying to keep people away from her so he can have her to himself?” There, I’d said it. The thought was there when I woke up this morning. But with the meeting on base, the terrible explosion that I could hardly bare to think about, and the meeting with the police, I hadn’t been able to do anything with the thought. “He could be trying to get to her through me. Someone hurting people you love is much harder than being hurt yourself.”
“That’s true.” Harriet paused for a moment. “Doesn’t the Phantom kidnap Christine, let her go, and then he kidnaps her again?”
“Yes.” I gasped. “Do you think he’ll go after her again?” I picked up my phone. “I’d better warn her.”
“Wait. Before you do. You said Awesome is with her. He must be aware that, until the person is caught, it’s a possibility. Why didn’t you bring this up at the meeting we just had?”
“Because it’s farfetched. Maybe I’m just desperate to not have this be about me.”
Harriet traced her finger over the steering wheel while she thought. I watched as her finger went up, over, and around again and again. She had a fabulous manicure with dark pink nail polish and a row of rhinestones across the nail on her index finger. I glanced at my hands as I waited for her to comment. No manicure. The garage sale business was hard on nails.
“The problem with all of this,” Harriet finally said, “is that I get how someone would know about your connection to the police and Seth. That’s been fairly public. But your connection to Mike Titone? From what you’ve said that isn’t as well-known.”
“Mike has stayed here multiple times by now, and, while much of the time he’s stuck up in the apartment, the last few trips he’s been out and about more.” I’d seen him walking back from DiNapoli’s with a pizza box in his hand on his last trip. “It might not be the closely held secret he thinks it is.”
“Yes, but he could be connected to Stella, not you. Which brings us back to your theory that it could be someone who is really after Stella. Any thoughts on who?”
“None. I know she had a troubled relationship in California and problems with drugs. But how would anyone there know anything about me?”
“It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out if they came here.”
“Who is new in town that knows Stella?” It was a rhetorical question. One for me to think over not Harriet. “Someone with a connection to Stella.”
Harriet pulled up in front of John’s house. She looked at me with a crease between her eyes. “What about Emil?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I twisted toward her. “My lawyer, Emil?” Duh, Sarah. There weren’t a lot of people named Emil roaming around Ellington.
“How well do you know him?”
“Not well at all, but he’s Rosalie’s nephew, and he works with Vincenzo.”
“What?”
I thought about Vincenzo and gossip I’d heard about him. “There have always been rumors that Vincenzo had mob connections. Vincenzo has helped Mike before.” Mike said his brothers had been tipped off. Could that tip have originated with Vincenzo? “And Emil’s working with him.”
“He also said that Stella was mesmerizing.”
I shook my head. “Anyone who has heard her sing would think that.”
“What did Emil do before he showed up here?”
“He said he was in criminal law in . . . Italy.” Home to the Mafia. “I’m looking him up.”
Harriet and I both grabbed our phones and started typing away. We both read in silence. “This doesn’t look good,” I said.
“Which part? Emil’s getting all those reported Mafia bosses off the hook for their crimes or all the photos of him attending various versions of The Phantom of the Opera?”
“Lots of people have a favorite show they see over and over again.”
“What about the picture of him at a ball dressed as the Phantom?” Harriet turned her phone to me. There he was—a handsome devil with a beautiful Christine on his arm.
This was getting worse and worse. And Emil liked costumes—at least he was willing to dress up as the Phantom. “His girlfriend makes a lovely Christine. She’s probably the one who decided how they’d dress. Women usually do in those instances.” I looked at the picture again. “There’s not a hint of scandal in any of the articles about him as a lawyer.” Or anything about him being fascinated with Alice in Wonderland.
“There are lots of scandals in Italy. Some of it is just done more quietly with payoffs and such.”
“It just can’t be. He’s helping me.” Rosalie would be heartbroken if Emil was involved in a crime or multiple crimes at this point. I pushed away a vision of Alice’s house blowing up. Then I looked at John’s house. Was it safe? Was he? I had to get to the bottom of this.
“Or making sure that he knows what you are up to.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s not him.” He had shown up at the cemetery. “I was with him when I got one of the calls. That proves it isn’t him.”
“Calls can be taped in advance.”
“I take back this whole theory. It’s not directed at Stella but at me. Like you said—that makes more sense.”
Harriet nodded. Didn’t say more. But I had a feeling she’d be digging into this, and I had no way to stop her.
* * *
I dragged myself up the stairs to my apartment at four thirty still dirty from the explosion at Alice’s house. Diego leaped up when he saw me. “Are you okay? Let me get Mike.”
I started to say no, but Diego was already in the apartment before I managed to say anything. I wondered how bad I looked to make him react that way. I swiped a hand across my face and some mascara came off on it. There were probably tear tracks too. A minute later I was sitting on their couch flanked by Mike and Francesco. Diego stood in the doorway, back against the doorjamb. That way he could keep an eye on the steps and listen to me.
“Do you want something to drink?” Mike asked.
“Water?” Francesco suggested.
“Wine?” Mike said.
“Whiskey?” Diego asked.
I almost laughed at the three w’s they’d suggested. “Water would be great.”
Mike got me a glass. “What’s going on?”
I sketched out what had happened. “And then her house exploded, and she’s dead.” I could barely get the words out. I saw it happen all over again. I’d felt helpless. “Because of me.”
“Not because of you,” Diego said. Mike and Francesco chimed in with similar reassurances.
“Why are you guys still here if the threat to you is over?” They all exchanged looks. “Did Seth ask you to stay so I wouldn’t be here alone?”
Mike finally nodded. “He did. And we’re happy to do it.”
“Thank you. It’s nice not to be here alone.”
I got up and walked over and stood by Diego. I had to ask one more thing, but I wanted to watch their reactions. “Do you know Emil Kawolski?”
“Name sounds familiar,” Mike said.
I didn’t watch him. I watched Francesco’s much more expressive face. His eyebrows popped up, and he whipped his head toward Mike. “He’s been in Italy. Just returned recently,” I said.
“Interesting,” Mike said.
Francesco continued to watch Mike.
“He’s working with Vincenzo,” I added.
Mike stood. “That must be why the name is familiar. I’ve got a call I need to make. Let us know if there is anything else we can do.”
After a round of hugs, I went back to my apartment. I showered and spent the rest of the evening on my laptop trying to find co
nnections between Emil and Mike. Of course I didn’t find anything, but, then again, Mike was very good at secrets.
* * *
Thursday morning I went to Dunkin’s drive-thru for coffee. Right after I picked it up along with two coconut donuts, my phone rang. The ID said it was the Masquerade Costume Shop. At least it wasn’t the kidnapper.
“Sarah? This is Poppy from the Masquerade Costume Shop.”
“Hi, Poppy. What can I do for you?”
“I think I can do something for you,” Poppy said. She sounded a little breathless.
“That would be great.” I really needed a break.
“Of course, I called the police first, but I wanted to let you know. There’s been a bit of a mix-up.”
That wasn’t too surprising given the interaction I’d had with her at the shop. “What kind of mix-up?”
“Gregory Kiah ordered the costume, but he wasn’t the one who picked it up.”
I already knew that, but it was nice of her to call me. “Thank you for letting me know.”
“Remember that picture I showed you?”
“The one done by the sketch artist?”
“Yes. Exactly. I printed it out, framed it, and put it up on my counter with a sign saying, ‘Do you know this man?’”
I gripped my phone. “Did someone?”
“Well, a man came in and said it looked like one of the grocery baggers at that little Italian grocery store in Ellington.”
“Danucci’s?” I asked.
“Yes. That’s the one.”
I’d met Mac Danucci last June when I did an athletic equipment swap for the school board. The superintendent of schools had been murdered in a closet off the gym during the event. I shuddered at the memory of finding her.
“Well, you seemed very concerned when you were in here. But hopefully the police will make an arrest soon. Did you decide which way you wanted to go with your costume?”
Costume? Oh, I’d forgotten that I had told her that was why I was in there. Ugh. Keeping track of lies had more layers than Poppy’s Cinderella costume. “The event was canceled. If they reschedule, I’ll be back in.” I needed to visit Danucci’s and talk to Mac.
Chapter Thirty
Danucci’s hadn’t changed much since the last time I was in there a few months ago. Still dark and dingy. I think the only reason Mac was still in business was because he stayed open until three in the morning when all the other grocery stores in town closed earlier. I’d suspected Mac of nefarious deeds last June, but hadn’t ever dug any real dirt up on him.
I recognized the cashier—a teenage girl who had quizzed me mercilessly one time when I’d come in and asked if Mac was here. Only after I had convinced her that I wasn’t a bill collector, bounty hunter, or law enforcement had she told me where to find him. I still wasn’t sure if she’d been joking or not.
“Mac?” I asked her.
“In his office,” she said over her shoulder as she scanned things for a customer. Did she remember me or was she too busy to feel protective today? Mac’s office was at the back of the store. I threaded my way through the dim aisles. The lighting in here, unlike that of most grocery stores, was abysmal. A teenage boy who’d worked here for some time was shelving boxes of generic granola. I always spoke to him, but he never responded.
Since the first time I’d seen him, I’d thought his eyes looked older than his years. I said hello as usual, but he continued to shelve at the pace of a sloth. But he must be a good worker because he had been here for a long time. Mac’s office door had a big Leave Me Alone sign on it. I knocked once and went in after I heard a muffled “come in.”
Mac sat at his desk, a bulletin board with OSHA warnings and signs to wash your hands tacked all over it hung on the wall behind him. Like last time, the air was scented with the tang of cigars even though there was a No Smoking sign posted on the wall. A large exhaust fan rattled and wheezed like it had inhaled too much smoke over the years. Mac didn’t sound much better.
He wore denim overalls instead of his usual bloodstained butcher’s apron. The overalls strained at the middle over a yellow, long-sleeved T-shirt.
“Well, there’s trouble.”
“Nice to see you too, Mac.”
He looked longingly at his expensive-looking humidor, the only nice thing in the office. “Cigar?” he asked with hope in his voice.
“I don’t smoke, but I don’t care if you do.” I did, but I wanted information. Having him relaxed would work better for me. I sat on a wobbly plastic chair across from him. “Will you take a look at a picture for me? It’s someone who might work here.”
Mac cast another glance at the humidor, but didn’t grab a cigar. “Sure. Why are you looking for him?”
Interesting. I hadn’t said if the person was a male or a female. But if the police had already been here, Mac might know who I was asking about. “A friend wants to find him.” I lifted a shoulder and dropped it like it wasn’t that important. “I think she’s interested, if you know what I mean.” That was nice and ambiguous. Hopefully, my face wouldn’t give away the half-truth or how much this mattered to me. I handed over my phone while Mac nodded.
He patted a pocket. “Dang. I lost another pair of readers.” He held my phone at arm’s length and studied the photo. “Kind of hard to tell since it’s a sketch not a photo.”
“It’s not the best. I’ve been having phone problems.” And yes, the police taking my phones was a problem.
“Yeah, I don’t recognize him.” Mac handed me back my phone and stood up. He pulled an apron off a hook. “I gotta get back at it.”
I stood too. “Thanks for taking a look.” Mac ushered me out of his office, but didn’t follow me out. Once his door closed, I heard the distinct click of a lock falling into place.
Maybe he just wanted that cigar, or maybe he wanted to make a call and didn’t want me to hear him. Locking the door seemed suspicious, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Standing out here being frustrated wasn’t going to accomplish anything. I went to the produce department and grabbed a couple of oranges that looked about a minute away from being tossed in the garbage.
I waited in line to be rung up, if you could call it that anymore. Once it was my turn, I whipped out my phone and showed the cashier the photo. Fortunately, no one was waiting behind me. “Any chance you recognize him? Does he work here?”
“The sketch is lousy,” she said, squinting at it.
Yeah, yeah, I knew the sketch was crap.
“It kind of looks like the guy who plays Archie on that CW show Riverdale.” She looked up at me.
“Does he work here?” I smiled at her.
She laughed. “I wish.” She handed me my phone back, scanned my oranges, and bagged them.
“Thanks,” I said as she handed me the oranges.
“It also kind of looks like Mac’s daughter Victoria.”
What? Did Mac realize that and lie or could he really not tell because of the poor image and lack of glasses?
“She has really short hair, big features, and broad shoulders. She’s a swimmer, and she has a deep voice. I can see how someone might mistake her for a man.”
A deep voice? I was reshuffling everything I’d been thinking. Why would she have something against me? “Does she work here?”
“Only when forced to.”
“What about last week?”
“She covered for me Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.”
“Have the police been by with this picture?” I asked.
“I’ve been here since nine and haven’t seen anyone.”
I thought that over. Why wouldn’t they have already followed up on this? Although if Poppy had called the police, it was probably the Chelmsford police. It might take a bit for the news to go from one department to the other. “Okay, thanks.”
I headed toward my Suburban in the parking lot as an Ellington police SUV pulled in. Whoever was driving spotted me and parked by my car. Just as I arrived at it, Pellner came ar
ound the side of the SUV.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
He didn’t sound happy to see me. I held up the bag with the two oranges. “Shopping.” I hopped into the Suburban, started it up, and headed home as Pellner walked toward the store without a glance back at me. He’d find out soon enough that I’d been in there asking questions. He could just add it to his list of reasons to be mad at me.
I’d driven about two blocks when my conscience got the better of me. I made a U-turn and drove back to Danucci’s. When Pellner came out, I was there waiting for him.
“I’m not sharing any information with you, Sarah. It’s too dangerous,” Pellner said as he walked by me.
At least he was talking to me. “I already know the picture looks like Mac’s daughter.”
He stopped and wheeled around. “What?”
“Didn’t you talk to the girl at the register?”
“I did. She said the picture looked like some actor.”
“She told me that too. Then she said it also looked like Mac’s daughter who’s a swimmer with a deep voice.”
“I’m going back in there to wring her neck. Charge her with obstruction and Mac too.”
“Pellner, she’s a kid. You probably scared her. It’s why you had me look into the death of that woman last winter. Because people tell me things.” Usually way more than I wanted to hear.
“Fine. What did she tell you?”
I repeated our conversation.
“What connection do you have to Mac’s daughter?”
“None that I know of.”
“Think about it. There must be something.”
“I have, and I can’t think of anything. The only connection I have with Mac is that he was on the school board when the superintendent was killed. And I occasionally shop here.”
Pellner frowned. “Thanks for the information.”
“While I waited for you, I looked her up. Her first name is Victoria. She’s a sophomore at Boston University and is on their swim team.”
“Okay. Thanks. Now go home.”
“I will.” Pellner watched me get in my car. I was going home, but only so Harriet could pick me up. I’d called her while I waited for Pellner. My plan was for us to get to Mac’s daughter before Pellner did. I knew that if he talked to her first that she’d never talk to me.
Absence of Alice Page 18
