For Love of Livvy

by J. M. Griffin

  "I'm trying to move forward, but it's tough. I've settled into the downstairs apartment. I have plans to redecorate some of the rooms on the second floor tomorrow. It feels like Livvy's still here though, you know?"

  Aunt Lavinia, a spinster who'd done okay for herself, had been a tall, lean woman with a thick dark mane. She was endowed with a unibrow, not to mention the thin layer of upper lip hair so well known amongst the women in our family. A strikingly handsome woman, Lavinia stood just a few inches short of six feet tall and had a knockout figure. I took after her in most respects except the upper lip facial hair. We all need to be thankful for something, I guess.

  She'd owned and bequeathed this monstrous Colonial home to me. I'd lived here for several months prior to her death in the second floor apartment, and missed her friendship.

  She was well educated and successful. My grandparents hadn't liked the fact that she had gone to college, but allowed it. After all, how much education did you need to be a mother in those days? Now it takes a masters degree and multi-tasking is at an all time high.

  "I figured you'd be feeling that way. Maybe you changed apartments too soon. I worry about you."

  "Don't worry, Gio. The school year has just ended and June in Rhode Island is wonderful. How are things in Nebraska?” I asked.

  "Great, we're well and my practice is busy. Let's talk about Livvy. Mom and Dad aren't doing so well with her death, especially Mom. You're not investigating this, are you?"

  The apprehension in his voice was apparent. I knew I'd get the age old lecture if there was mention of wanting to stick my nose where it didn't belong.

  "No, I promised Dad I'd stay out of it. The cops still come around with questions, but so far nobody has shared their theories. It's quite annoying."

  A snort came over the phone, and I smiled as I pictured Gio having to hold back the laughter I knew was there. He realized how difficult it was for me to remain uninvolved.

  "I bet it is.” He chuckled.

  We reminisced about how Livvy had started her own enterprise that took off after attending college. Before long, she'd become involved in an industry which grew beyond her wildest dreams. Which business that was, I never really knew for sure and wondered now whether it was the stock exchange or the gift shops.

  Livvy had encouraged me to follow my dreams, just as she'd done. She'd been a good listener, rarely gave unwanted advice and for that very reason, she often got every detail of my sorry ass life out of me. My Aunt Livvy had always used a spare the rod attitude where I was concerned.

  "Livvy played the stock market, but the three gift shops she owned have done very well,” I said.

  "Mom sent me some news clippings when each shop opened. They cater to high end clientele, right?"

  "Mmm, the tourists love the handmade jewelry and offbeat clothing. She left me the shop in Providence, but to be truthful, I haven't had much interest in it."

  "Give yourself some time, Vin. You'll feel better about it. Well, I have to go make my rounds at the hospital, I just wanted to check on you. Talk to you soon, okay? And, uh, stay out of the investigation, please?"

  "Sure. Give Jill my love, Gio.” I disconnected the call and sat back, considering my choices in life.

  In school, teachers thought my twin was a saint. He was always behind the pranks that got me in so much trouble. Gio had a knack for being in the right place at the right time while I, on the other hand, was just the opposite. It was then that I christened him Saint Giovanni. It seemed he could do no wrong and while I didn't resent that, I sure did have to put up with it.

  My career choice of criminal justice at a local university was viewed with chagrin by my father while Gio's choice of medicine was, well, you can imagine. Livvy thought my choice was a great idea and had supported me when push came to shove with Dad. My mother sided with Livvy until Dad gave in. Both women had said, “It's your life and you have to live it, Vinnie, nobody else, just you."

  I considered all this while slumped against the pillows. My chest tightened at the thought of her dying alone in the dark with no one to save her. The State Medical Examiner's office hadn't notified us of a determination on how she had died, making closure difficult. However, Aunt Livvy would want all of us to move on with life, I was certain of that.

  Tossing the writing pad aside, I turned out the bedside light. In the dark, I wondered how to accomplish the feat of moving on. Life without Aunt Livvy was more difficult than I or my family ever imagined.

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  Chapter 3

  Aunt Lavinia's elephantine historic house sported two apartments, mine on the first floor while the second sat empty. I'd moved downstairs with a plan to spruce up the other unit and rent it out. Two of the six rooms needed paint and light fixtures, but little else.

  My procrastination level was out of control. I wasn't sure if Livvy's sudden departure was the issue or not. I hadn't made any effort to rent out the apartment. As a property owner, it was something that needed addressing. Thank God for Lanky Larry.

  Larry, a gay friend from Providence, studied art with me when I took electives in college. He was five foot three, round as a soup bowl and bald as a melon. Where the name came from was anybody's guess.

  We'd been classmates, but drifted apart after college. I nearly ran him down one night after a hockey game in downtown Providence and we'd resumed our friendship. His bright personality was uplifting, and I enjoyed his friendship.

  When Livvy's death notice hit the newspaper, Larry called to offer help with whatever was needed. It wasn't long after that when he'd insisted on helping paint the two front rooms upstairs. I'd mentioned the fact the rooms needed work and he'd jumped at the chance to help me out. For that decision, I was grateful.

  It didn't become apparent until mid morning that my renovation notion was the worst idea I'd had yet. Luck was a rare factor in my life, though I'm a tenacious sort. I wondered how lucky I'd be with a tenant.

  I stared out the front window waiting for Larry. When the van rolled up and parked in front of the house, I swung the door open and skipped down the steps. Larry had ordered the paint, supplies and even offered ladders. You gotta love that man!

  He scurried up the path to the front door and strode behind me into the apartment like a miniature comics superhero. A funny little guy with a heart the size of Colorado, he was between faux finishing jobs. He'd wanted to glamorize the two rooms that faced the street, but I'd resisted until Lanky had talked me into one designer room.

  His bald dome popped around the kitchen door, and he sidled onto the stool at the counter. With a coffee mug in one hand he poured stale brew into half the cup, added three heaping spoonfuls of sugar and filled the rest with milk. Yuk, but hey, I didn't have to drink it.

  "I brought the tools. They're in the back of my van with the paint. We got great colors. Let's design both rooms, what do you say, Vin?” Larry's enthusiasm abounded.

  "I agreed to one room and that's it. The place is to be rented out and what if we do all that work and someone doesn't like it or it gets ruined?” How's that for logic? I really disliked refurbishing.

  "All right, then.” He shrugged good-naturedly while coffee slopped down his shirt. “Let's get started."

  At five foot nine, my stride was long and Larry double stepped to keep up. We headed out the door and started unloading the gallons of paint and supplies. I leaned ladders against the van doors as he grabbed the paint cans and trays. He waddled toward the front door and I followed behind lugging the box of brushes and rollers.

  As with many colonial style homes, the staircase was centrally located inside the front foyer and the stairs faced the entry door as it opened. In this house, a small landing sat about five steps up from the first floor. It then angled left up another string of steps into the second floor apartment.

  The two front rooms needed color in the worst way. I'd never complained to Aunt Livvy, but her prior tenants had poor taste. I'd always meant to paint the wal
ls, but hadn't gotten around to it. The remaining four rooms were in good shape and if I could bring myself to do so, the place could be rented out once the work was finished.

  We stacked gallons of color inside the front entry and I went back for ladders and water buckets. The outer door stood open and I returned to the foyer entry as Lanky started up the stairs. He juggled two paint gallons in each hand along with keys for the apartment while I handled the ladder.

  A car had pulled to the curb. A door closed behind me, but I didn't pay attention to it. Instead, I stared aghast as two gallon cans of butter yellow crashed down the staircase bouncing against the wall. When the lid flew off one gallon, gooey color spewed over my body followed by an expletive from above, and a choke of laughter from behind.

  Shocked as shit and mad as hell, I stood in the doorway covered in paint. Thick globs of color rolled down my arms, dripped off my chin, layered my dark hair and slid over my bare legs. It oozed into my sneakers and dripped from my fingertips. Only God knows how much area a gallon of paint really can cover.

  Puddles spread over the floor. Horrified, I knelt to scoop it up with my hands, slopping it back into the dented container. Rising, I heard a deep guffaw behind me and turned.

  With the widest grin ever stood a brute the size of the Rock, a former WWF wrestler. Toned muscles bulged on biceps, his chest size was larger than mine and he reminded me of Jimmy the Neck.

  Jimmy, a mob enforcer from Federal Hill, knew my dad. They'd gone to high school together until Jimmy got expelled for extorting good grades from the teachers. He'd turned to real crime after that. Jimmy's neck was thick like a football player with shoulders to match, just the same as this guy.

  Handsome to a fault, his rich dark eyes beheld my sad sack appearance. Gosh, what a hunk, I thought, as his chest heaved with laughter at my expense. I stood covered in paint. It was all over me. It had missed nothing. What an impressive sight that must be. I stared down my torso and wiped daubs of color from my face.

  Feet thumped down the stairs. Lanky looked at me, apologized, stifled a giggle as his eyes widened, and scooted back up the steps.

  "Excuse me, I think I need to clean up. Whatever you want will have to wait,” I said to the Hunk, as I swiped off more thick gobs of paint.

  I turned and yelled up the stairs.

  "You better hide up there, sport, because I'm gonna break your neck when I get out of the shower.” With that said, I left Mr. Luscious Hunk on the steps and went toward my bathroom by way of the back door.

  The Hunk snickered as I rounded the corner of the house and strode down the driveway. With no idea what he wanted, who he was or where he'd come from, sort of like the mysterious package, I figured I had a right to know.

  A while later, minus a couple layers of skin and a full bottle of shampoo, I headed back upstairs. This time, I took the rear staircase outside my kitchen entry. The two apartments were laid out nearly the same.

  Entering through the door, I stood in the kitchen above mine. Larry chattered in the front room while deep laughter rumbled off the walls. The Hunk hadn't left so there'd be a chance to satisfy my curiosity. Lanky Larry was in the process of entertaining him, probably with his own interest in mind, I thought with a grin.

  Wandering around the corner, I saw Larry glance at me as he wrung the towel out into a bucket of water. The paint on the walls had been cleared away and Lanky hustled down to finish the front entry, apologizing all the while. Before I closed the door, I managed some kind words and thanked him for the cleanup. After all, it was an accident.

  My spirits lifted as I turned to stare into the broad smile that faced me. My eyes slid over The Hunk. With a grin, I apologized for my earlier behavior.

  "The day started out fine, but has managed a blemish or two before noon. Sorry about the mishap, I hope you didn't get any paint on your clothes."

  "It's likely you wore most of it.” He chuckled. “I wondered if I could speak with Vinnie Esposito. Is he around today?"

  "What do you want to talk about?"

  "I'd like to rent this apartment if it's available. Someone mentioned I might speak to Vinnie about it."

  "The apartment won't be ready for awhile yet. There are two rooms that need work and the rugs will be brought in later this week."

  "Uh huh, well, I can wait that long if it's necessary, but I still need to speak to Vinnie. Would you know how I can get in touch with him?"

  My smile must have been the giveaway, because he stopped talking and just stared for a second.

  With a hand extended, I shook his and said, “Vinnie Esposito, nice to meet you."

  An odd gleam entered his eyes, as though he considered this might be a joke, but he recovered and said, “Aaron Grant."

  "So Mr. Grant, why would you want to live here?” Don't ask me why I asked that question. Since Livvy's death and the parcel incident, I figured there was need for a certain amount of caution even though I was curious as hell.

  "Aaron, please. Proximity to work is an issue and I thought this would allow me to have that. The village atmosphere has appeal and yet Providence is within ten minutes or so. What do you say?” Charm oozed and flowed over me like lava, while his pearly whites glistened.

  "I'd like to think about it if you don't mind. Besides, these rooms still have to be done. The rent is high as well, and I'm not sure what you're willing to pay.” There was that procrastination thing again.

  Dark eyebrows lifted a tad and Aaron asked what the rent was. I pulled a fictitious number out of my head and he smiled. Apparently it wouldn't be a problem.

  "I have references if you'd like and Detective Bellini from the Providence Police Department said you might be in search of a tenant. I'm single with no encumbrances in case you're interested.” The gorgeous smile widened to a full-on grin.

  "Uh huh, I'll take that into consideration along with the references.” My smile matched his as my brown eyes wandered over him while he stared around the room. He checked the fireplace, and then glanced out the windows.

  Grant was impeccably dressed in cream colored trousers with a crease sharp enough to slice cake. Wavy dark hair lay trim against the collar of a lightweight material shirt that showed off a tan most women would kill for. A heavy gold watch rested on his wrist while deep rust-colored shoes appeared handmade. With the kind of money his attire screamed, I was curious as to why he needed to rent an apartment, especially this apartment. The need for answers niggled at me, but if Bellini had sent him, well, that was different. We had our differences, but Bellini was a good man.

  Aaron wandered around the rest of the rooms, opened cabinets and peered inside closets. I watched him look under sinks and check out the laundry room. He appeared comfortable with the apartment, too large, but hey, who am I to talk, he was only a half head taller than me. I imagined him in a gorgeous home that featured vaulted ceilings and high peaked windows, not to mention a humongous fireplace and lots of imported marble. Okay, so my imagination was out of control again.

  Hunky wrote the references on a snippet of paper I found in the kitchen drawer and left his cell phone number. I watched him head outside and fold his muscular frame into a black SUV. The license plate read “HIRLLR” as in High Roller maybe? Hmm.

  I glanced down at the bit of paper. The script was bold and symmetrical, just like him. As I tucked it into my shorts pocket, Lanky scrambled through the door all goggle eyed. Gosh, I guess he thought The Hunk was special too.

  "Did you check out those biceps?” he asked. “I could swing off those for days."

  His delight brought a hoot of laughter from me. “You could, huh?” I chuckled. “What did you guys discuss while I was downstairs?” Curiosity, my major problem, always led to trouble, no doubt about it.

  "Not much now that you ask. We talked a lot, but he didn't give any information away. Strange, now that I think of it. Huh.” His brows knit together as he glanced at me with a grin. “I'm ready for lunch, how about you?"

  "Oh yeah, I've worke
d so hard this morning that I'm famished.” Guilt stole over his face, and I threw my arm around his shoulder. We headed down the stairs and out the door.

  We strolled to the corner, crossed the street and entered the deli located on the opposite side. My friend, Lola Trapezi, owned The Salt & Pepper Deli and served scrumptious sandwiches with names like Thanksgiving Dinner or Trooper Special, silly things like that. The food was phenomenal so we ordered up and ate outside in the summer sun. Sidewalk tables were gathered in front of the historic structure surrounded by a picket fence.

  Summer smells accosted my nostrils. Sweet honeysuckle grew over the fence of the storefront next to the Salt & Pepper. Plump bumble bees collected nectar while I sat back lazily watching their consumption. A light breeze ruffled the leaves on the vines.

  The sunshine warmed my skin. My attention returned to Larry and I asked, “Why do you think this guy wants to rent the apartment?"

  "Well, it's a nice location, you're gorgeous, and he may be telling the truth."

  My right eyebrow cocked at him. “You didn't happen to have your ear to the door, did you?"

  Unabashed, he chuckled. “Yeah, but it was only out of consideration for you."

  Laughter bubbled up from my throat as this roly poly friend of mine made excuses for his deviant behavior.

  "I'm glad to hear it, really I am. By the way, a mysterious package was left on my doorstep last night.” As my story unraveled, his face registered surprise.

  "What do you make of it?"

  "I don't know, but I have a lot of questions and no answers for them.” I said.

  "Questions about what exactly?"

  "Why the cops come around asking questions about Livvy's affairs. Why they are interested in what she did for a living, who her friends were, what kind of business she ran. Questions like that.” I shook my hair off my neck and glanced at Larry. “There has to be something about her death that nobody wants to share with us. It makes me more and more curious."

  "You could always investigate, Vin. You must be good at that since you teach those techniques."