Cement Stilettos

by Diane Vallere

  What made it worse was that the deliveryman was none other than Jimmy the Tomato himself.

  23

  Thursday, 6:30 p.m.

  Jimmy the Tomato didn’t deliver the pizzas. Not since I was in high school. And even though I had a file on my computer of ways to get Mrs. Iova back for her nosy neighbor routine, I couldn’t let her stand out there with a man who was quite possibly involved in a murder. I ran out of my house, stumbling slightly over the stairs thanks in equal parts to the platform shoes and the blue-tinted sunglasses.

  Traffic on my street was usually limited to those who lived on it, and tonight was no different. I crossed the road without incident and quickly reached Mrs. Iova and Jimmy.

  Mrs. Iova was in head to toe mauve: mauve cable knit sweater, mauve knit pants that I would bet had an elastic waist. Her auburn hair looked like it had been fresh from the stylist two days ago and she’d been trying to keep the look going. One side of curls appeared slightly flattened. I silently guessed she was a side sleeper.

  On the other hand, Jimmy was the kind of guy who looked like he didn’t sleep much and showered even less. I’d always assumed it was because he spent so much time near a pizza oven. Nick’s eye was almost faded. Jimmy’s was a pale shade of yellowish green, kind of like the lemon-lime flavor of Gatorade.

  His eyes swept me from head to toe. “That’s kind of a new look for you, isn’t it?”

  “You know me, I’m always trying new fashions.”

  He nodded approvingly. “That’s a good one. You should keep it up.” He held up a dark red insulated bag with one hand and looked at Mr. Iova. “Got your pizza here.”

  “I think someone must have made a mistake,” I said. “I called in an order for a pizza about half an hour ago.”

  “I know,” Jimmy said. “I took the call. You gave this address. Seems we’ve been getting a lot of requests for delivery to the houses around yours. Always the same order, too. Large round, extra cheese.”

  “That’s hardly a unique pizza,” I said.

  “Always paid in cash.”

  “A lot of people pay in cash.”

  “Extra oregano on the side.”

  “I read an article about the health benefits of oregano. High antioxidants. You should put that on your menu, tap into the health food market.” I looked at Mrs. Iova. “Come to think of it, that was in the Ribbon Times. You still have the paper delivered, right? You probably read the same article that I did. Maybe this is your pizza.”

  “I would get the Times if you’d stop taking it from my lawn whenever your name shows up in it. And no, this is not my pizza. I’m lactose intolerant.”

  Considering she seemed to be offended by both my presence on her porch and my choice of dinner, I was a little surprised she hadn’t slammed the door on us and called the police. If Detective Loncar showed up, I didn’t think he’d accept that my outfit was purely motivated by the changing tides of fashion.

  “Follow me,” I said to Jimmy. “I left my wallet inside the house.”

  I thanked Mrs. Iova (for nothing) and turned toward my house. Across the street, my front door opened and Eddie came out.

  The only problem was, Eddie’s makeover was more thorough than mine.

  He was dressed in a black cashmere topcoat over a double-breasted suit with a pinstripe that was visible from a hundred feet away. Black dress shirt. White necktie. His peroxide-blond hair, now slicked back away from his face, appeared darker thanks to a generous application of gel. Aviator glasses hid his eyes.

  Mrs. Iova cleared her throat. “Well, I never,” she said.

  Eddie crossed the street. “You okay out here, babe?” he asked.

  Babe? I mouthed. He grinned and draped an arm around my shoulder. “Everything cool?”

  “Pizza delivery mix-up,” I said.

  “It wasn’t a mix-up,” Mrs. Iova said.

  “Tell you what,” Jimmy said. “Once you pay me, you can figure out what you want to call this. I gotta get back to the shop.”

  I turned to Eddie. “Honey, do you have your wallet?”

  He patted down his pockets. “Must have left it inside the house.”

  “Fine,” I said. I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my blue leopard-printed jacket and reached inside my bra for the twenty. “Keep the change,” I said to Jimmy.

  “Don’t worry. This baby’s getting framed and going behind the bar.” He put the bill in his pocket and took off.

  I handed Eddie the pizza. “I need a minute with my neighbor. Put this in the oven. No time to eat it now.”

  Eddie carried the pizza across the road and disappeared into my house. I turned to Mrs. Iova to apologize. This hadn’t gone exactly as I’d wanted.

  “I’ve been meaning to come over and say hello. We’ve been neighbors for a few years now, and maybe it’s a good idea for us to know each other a little better. I admit, this wasn’t my best idea.”

  Mrs. Iova crossed her arms over her mauve cable knit sweater. “Samantha, my son went to elementary school with you. I’ve seen you run around that lawn in your Underoos. There was a time when I thought you were going to grow up into a nice young lady, but apparently, that did not happen. The parade of men you have coming and going from your house is enough to make my head spin.”

  “You have it all wrong. I’m engaged now. I’m going to settle down.”

  “You’re engaged to that hoodlum?” she asked, pointing to my house.

  “No, not to him. He’s just a friend. I’m engaged to one of the other ones.”

  “Does your fiancé know you have plans with your friend tonight?”

  “Well, no, but he doesn’t have to know everything I do,” I said.

  “Hmph. I’m just glad my boy never wanted to date you. Probably would have ruined his life.” She stepped inside and slammed the door in my face.

  I ran back across the street and slammed my own door, this time behind me.

  “‘Babe?’” I said to Eddie. “And what was with the arm around me? Where did you get that?”

  “Last minute substitution. I didn’t think ‘Dude’ was going to cut it. I just sort of channeled Dante. You do know he would have been better at this than me, right?”

  “I can’t call Dante for help. Not with this, not now, probably not ever. You’re going to have to do.” I stepped back and assessed him. “You look like an extra from Robin and the Seven Hoods.”

  “You look like an extra from Married to the Mob,” he countered.

  I pulled on a gigantic zebra-printed faux fur collar that slightly resembled the kind of neck brace you get after whiplash and secured it around my neck. “Let’s do this.”

  Eddie drove his VW Bug to Connie di Sotto’s house. I instructed him to drive past and circle around the block, and then park along a side street. It was slow going thanks to the unfamiliarity of walking on stiletto-heeled platform pumps, but we made it.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Eddie asked.

  “It’s not so much of a plan as a goal. We need to talk to Mama Blum.”

  “What time does she expect us?”

  “She doesn’t.”

  He stopped. “We’re just showing up? With nothing?”

  “The last time I showed up, I had a frozen lasagna and it wasn’t all that appreciated. I’m not going to take a chance on doing something else that makes me look like I’m not one of them. The goal is to get to Mama Blum and find out about Angela. Nobody else is talking about her and I got the distinct sense that Mama is mad about something and I want to find out what.”

  “So what’s our cover story? Why are we here?”

  “To pay our respects to Mama.”

  “If you’re good to Mama, mama’s good to you?”

  “Something like that.”

  Eddie turned around and looked in the direction of his VW Bug. “If you get my car blown up, you’re going to owe me bigtime.”

  “Nobody’s getting blown up. Come on.”

  I adjusted the tilt of my sunglasses
and rang the doorbell. After a few moments, it opened and we were face to face with Debbi.

  “Samantha?” Debbi said. She stood back and looked me up and down. “You look great.”

  “Hi,” I said. “I hope we didn’t come at a bad time. I feel like I didn’t properly pay my respects to Mama when I was here earlier in the week.” The obvious next thing would be for her to invite us in—wasn’t it? Or were we supposed to just take the liberty? Maybe I looked the part but I sure wasn’t acting it. I leaned forward and peeked inside. “Mama is here, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she’s in the salon. I don’t think she was expecting any more company, but I guess in your case it doesn’t really matter. What are you standing there for? You’re gonna freeze.”

  I stepped into the foyer and Eddie followed. Having sacrificed the warmth of a coat for the style of the zebra printed faux fur wrap, I found myself still cold even after the door closed behind me. Eddie unbuttoned his topcoat but kept it on as well. I turned around and saw Debbi eyeing Eddie up like a piranha might size up a cow. “I don’t know you. You’re a friend of Samantha’s?”

  “Haven’t you met?” I said. “This is Eddie the Painter.” Eddie glared at me.

  “Painter?” Slowly she smiled and ran her hand through her platinum blond hair. Then she pointed at him. “You did that job over on Chestnut Street, didn’t you? That was a good one.”

  Eddie looked uncomfortable, but it might have had something to do with his pointy-toed shoes. “You know I can’t talk about that,” he said.

  She patted his cheek with her open palm. “If I were twenty years younger...”

  I think we were all happy she didn’t finish that thought.

  “They’re in the living room,” Debbi said. “I was on my way out. Where’s your car? You didn’t park me in, did you?” She opened the front door again.

  “We parked out of the way. You’ll be fine.”

  She pulled on a thick black full-length fur coat and bright pink leather gloves. She gave us a finger wave and then left.

  “Great,” Eddie said. “Don’t stay too long. We have to drive past Chestnut Street when we’re done here.”

  “Why?”

  He looked offended. “I need to see what I supposedly painted.”

  “I don’t think she was talking about exteriors.” I leaned forward. Mama’s voice was audible—she was talking to someone. “Debbi said Mama had company but I didn’t recognize any of the cars out there. I’ve been here before and you haven’t, so I’m thinking you should play it cool and follow my lead. Capisce?”

  “Just go,” he said.

  I stood up straight and checked my lipstick in the mirror in the hallway. I looked good. I looked powerful. I looked like one of them. Whoever was visiting with Mama wouldn’t think twice of my social visit.

  I led Eddie into the room and discovered the one person who could bust me for having an ulterior motive.

  Mama’s visitor was Nick.

  24

  Thursday night

  The look on Nick’s face was probably a mirror image of my own: shock, confusion, concern, and a little bit of embarrassment. I had the benefit of the oversized blue glasses to hide my expression, but Nick’s was full-on evident.

  The problem was, I wasn’t there to see Nick. I was there for Mama. But if she figured out that this wasn’t planned, I was out of luck.

  I took a few steps toward Nick and held out my hand. “Hi, honey, sorry I’m late.”

  He stood up and I leaned forward and offered up my cheek for a kiss. A regular kiss might have been more believable, but if he refused, it would have looked far worse. Plus, the lipstick.

  I turned to Mama and smiled. “I hope Nicky told you I’d be coming by tonight. With everything that’s been going on, I feel like I haven’t had a chance to properly pay my respects.”

  Mama locked eyes with me and held them in an uncomfortably direct stare that lasted long enough to make me fear looking away. I won the stare-off when she looked from me to Nick.

  “This one is good. Cares about other people. Still needs to learn a lot of things, but has a good heart.” She tapped her chest a couple of times and then smiled at me. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

  She looked at Eddie. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Samantha’s driver,” he said. He looked at me. “I trust you’re okay getting a ride home with your fiancé?”

  I tried giving him the stink eye but the glasses hid that too. “I’ll call you if I need you,” I said. “Keep your phone on.”

  “Sure.” Eddie took off and left me alone in the room with Nick and Mama.

  I lowered myself to the plush sofa next to Nick. I couldn’t tell from his body language if he was happy or upset that I was there. We’d have to sort through that later.

  “Mrs. Blum, I really am sorry for your loss,” I said.

  “Call me Mama,” she said. “You’re practically family.” She leaned back into the cushions and folded her hands in her lap. “My Angela, she didn’t deserve what happened. She didn’t deserve this life. When her mother died, I tried to protect her but there was only so much I could do.”

  “What happened to Angela’s mother?” I asked.

  “Angela’s mother was killed in a car accident when Angie was four. She moved in with me and the girls. Connie accepted her, but Debbi was jealous. Jealousy is a bad emotion. It controls people. Keeps them from taking care of each other. That’s why Angela wanted to find out the truth.” Mama looked at Nick this time. “Angela was so happy the day she met you. To learn that she had a half brother, someone she could look up to, that meant the world to her. At least she had that before she was killed.”

  “But Nick’s dad—” I started to say. Nick put his hand on mine and squeezed it. I studied his face. If he was thinking what I was thinking, then Mama still believed Nick’s dad was Angela’s father. They all did.

  Mama spoke again, this time so quiet I had to lean forward to hear her. “I had two daughters, Debbi and Angela’s mother. Debbi always knew what she wanted. She got into this life by choice and took every piece of it that came her way. Her sister was different. She didn’t know about her father’s involvement in the family, and when she found out she was pregnant, she cut all ties and disappeared. She started over, built a whole new life for her and her little girl. It’s no way to lose your child, and the wedge between us was something I had to live with. In the old country, Angela’s mother would have put her real family first. We would have taken care of her. But she was worried about her baby and she thought the only way to protect that little girl was to keep her away from us.”

  “You said Angela’s mother died?”

  Mama nodded. “It was a shock to all of us when Angela showed up. She never asked for a thing. But she was alone in the world. We were the closest thing to family she had. We opened up our house and let her in, but trust me, that girl never wanted to be a part of our family.”

  While we were sitting in the living room talking, the front door opened and closed. Debbi’s voice rang out. “Mama?” She came into the living room. “You’re still here.” She looked around. “Where’s your other friend? The painter?”

  “He heard about a sale at Glidden and had to go.”

  “You mean he’s really a painter? I thought that was code.” What could that possibly be code for? “I know a lot of people who could use a guy like him.”

  “Tradava keeps him pretty busy as is. Eddie’s not looking to freelance.”

  “Too bad.”

  Mama sat up straight. “We’re just finishing up in here. I’ll see Nicky and Samantha out.”

  “Fine,” Debbi said. Despite the fact that she was in her fifties, her body language said one thing: Don’t nag me, mom. Debbi left the room. Mama stood up and Nick and I followed suit. It seemed the visiting hour was over. I glanced at my watch. It was almost eight. I hadn’t eaten since lunch and the Brother’s Pizza in my kitchen was calling my name. Except that if I got a ride home from Nick, I�
�d have to explain it.

  Nick pulled his coat from a rack in the hallway, and I wrapped myself as best as I could in the zebra striped stole.

  “Mama, thank you for talking to us,” I said. “If there’s anything I can do to help you in this time of need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Mama smiled and looked at Nick. “What did I tell ya? This one is a keeper. Lasagna, you can learn. Consideration comes from inside.”

  I was going to regret that eleven dollars and ninety-nine cents for the rest of my life.

  The three of us walked to the door. Mama put her hand on the knob, and then used her other hand to shift Nick and I apart so she could look between us down the hall. Seemingly satisfied, she looked back at our faces. “I’m not stupid. I know why you were here. You want to know if Debbi could have murdered her own niece.”

  Nick was the one to speak. “Do you think she could have? Murdered Angela?”

  “The morning Angela died, Debbi claimed she was getting her hair done. But two days later, the salon called to see when she wanted to reschedule her cancelled appointment.” Mama pursed her lips and looked back and forth between us. “Debbi’s got a mean streak that none of us can explain. You’re asking a good question,” she said slowly. “And I can’t be sure the answer isn’t yes.”

  25

  Thursday, even later

  I left the house in front of Nick. I held onto the black wrought iron banister while I made my way down the concrete steps and into the driveway. It was too dark to see clearly with the glasses on, but I didn’t want to blow my cover by pulling them off too soon.

  “What are you doing here?” Nick asked.

  “I would think it’s obvious what I’m doing here.”

  “Don’t tell me this is Samantha 2.0. The old Samantha would have done the exact same thing: put herself in a middle of danger.”