If Lily Vidoni was ill enough that her husband had to prearrange funeral plans, then where was their family? Friends? Members of St. Catherine’s Ladies Guild even? More people should be here.
Italian families did not leave relatives to die alone. It just wasn’t done.
Mrs. Vidoni’s daytime nurse allowed them in after Sophia briefly explained the reason for her visit.
“To say Mrs. Vidoni is fragile is a great understatement,” she warned Sophia. “You may have just a moment, and you may not say one word to disturb her.”
“She is aware that her husband is in jail though, isn’t she?”
The nurse nodded. “She is. The cancer has ravaged the poor woman’s body, but not her mind or spirit.” She glanced at the police captain and pointed to a chair at the end of the hallway. “Wait there, sir. I don’t want you disturbing Mrs. Vidoni in that uniform.”
Without waiting for his response, she led Sophia up a flight of stairs and down a corridor. All the while, she issued directions as to what Sophia was to say and do, and not say or do while in her patient’s presence. The woman must have been a nun before becoming a nurse.
“Where is Mrs. Vidoni’s family?” Sophia asked when they stopped in front of a door.
“Family?”
“Yes, you know, people who care about Mrs. Vidoni? Surely her family hasn’t just left her alone?”
The nurse shook her head. “There’s no family that I’m aware of.”
No family? How did those two words belong alone together in a sentence?
“What about the cousin who is visiting?”
“You see, those are exactly the kinds of questions you aren’t allowed to ask Mrs. Vidoni.” The nurse opened the door and led Sophia into the patient’s room.
To her surprise, the room didn’t have the oppressive sadness of a deathbed scene. The room was feminine, decorated in a lilac color scheme, and filled with flowers. A large, gleaming chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, casting just the perfect amount of light. A large canopy bed with a satin quilt filled the center of the room. But the bed was empty.
“I’m here.”
Sophia’s eyes followed the voice to a corner of the room. A chaise lounge was set up by the window. A lady--for one glance at the woman’s welcoming expression told Sophia that Lily Vidoni was a true lady--sat back against satin pillows, a cream color velvet throw over her legs.
“My, but the world has changed if police officers are such young, pretty girls now.” She smiled. “Come in, won’t you.”
“I’m not with the police, Mrs. Vidoni.”
Lily Vidoni smiled again, or perhaps she always smiled. That wouldn’t surprise Sophia one bit.
“I know you’re not. Just a little joke because I saw the car pull up.” She took a deep breath, as if to gather strength before speaking again. She nodded toward the flower in Sophia’s hand. “I see that my husband sent you to see me.”
“He did.” Sophia held out the red carnation and watched as the other woman gazed tenderly at it. From her expression, one could have believed it was a rare hot house bloom instead of an ordinary flower shop carnation. “Please sit.” After Sophia settled into a chair the nurse drew up for her, Lily spoke again. “Tell me your name, my dear.”
“Sophia Mancini.”
“Lovely name. I remember Frankie telling me about you and your brother.” She coughed and obediently took several small sips from the glass the nurse held to her lips. She leaned back and sighed. “Tell me how my husband is.”
An image of Frankie’s forlorn, disheveled appearance popped into Sophia’s mind. Not an image she wanted to share with the frail woman who was watching her with a hopeful expression.
“He is deeply concerned for you.” That was the truth. She’d seen genuine worry in Frankie’s eyes. “He said to tell you that he’d be home as soon as he could.”
Two tears slid down Lily’s face.
“He also wanted me to tell you that he didn’t do what they’ve accused him of.” She didn’t know how much Mrs. Vidoni knew about the reason for her husband’s arrest. “I’m sorry.” And she was. Sorry for the pain she saw etched on the other woman’s face. It wasn’t all the cancer; her heart was breaking.
Mrs. Vidoni’s nurse shot Sophia an irritated look, but her voice when she spoke to her patient was gentle and soothing. “I think it’s best if you rest now. Your visitor can come another time perhaps.”
Sophia stood. She knew an order when she heard one.
“Wait, Sophia, please.” Lily motioned for her to sit again. “Thank you for bringing me word from my husband. Can I impose upon you to give him a message from me? I’m sorry to trouble you, but it’s important.”
“I’m happy to, Mrs. Vidoni, but I don’t believe that I can see him until tomorrow morning at the earliest.” She leaned forward. “What shall I say to him?”
“Tell Frankie I know what he’s done.”
Sophia froze.
“He needs to be honest with the police.” Her eyes met Sophia’s. Her next words were barely above a whisper. “Tell him I forgive him, and I know why he did it. But he has to tell the truth now.”
***
Sophia was silent on the ride home, an unusual state for her--one that seemed to unnerve her companion.
“Is there anything you want to tell me about your visit with Mrs. Vidoni?” Captain McIntyre turned to look at her. “You don’t seem yourself.”
“No, nothing you need to know about. But I was wondering about the evidence you have against Frankie.”
He stopped at a traffic light and waited for the pedestrians to cross. One of the women passing in front of the patrol car stopped and peered curiously through the windshield. Sophia suddenly wished she was sitting in the back seat, out of sight, but it was too late. Judging by her startled expression, her cousin Nancy recognized her. After a long, awkward moment she moved on. No doubt to get to a phone as quickly as possible, Sophia thought.
“We found a suit jacket that we believe belongs to Mr. Vidoni.”
“And owning a suit jacket is a crime how?”
“When it’s covered in dried blood and found hidden not far from a murder scene, it tends to look suspicious, don’t you think?”
She couldn’t think of a way to ask about the possibility of the jacket belonging to someone else without implicating Mooch. The day had been too long.
“What did you find out from Mooch’s neighbors?” she asked instead.
“Absolutely nothing. No one would talk.”
So he didn’t know anything about the Iacobelli boy.
He turned the car onto Little Italy’s main street. “Where shall I drop you?”
“Anywhere is fine. It’s close enough I can walk from here.”
“No, it’s getting dark. Just give me the address.”
She did so, appreciating the gesture even if the offer sounded like an order. He pulled the car into a spot right in front of the brownstone. With a quick flick of his wrist he cut the engine, got out, and came around to open her door.
“What about a trade?” he asked once she was out of the car.
She opened her handbag and dug around for her keys, knowing she didn’t actually need them. As surely as she knew her own name, she knew her grandfather was on the other side of the door breathing fire while he waited for her to come inside.
“What kind of a trade, Captain?”
“I want you to go with me to DiMuccio’s building again tomorrow. Perhaps if you’re with me, people will be more willing to talk. Someone, somewhere, had to see something.”
“And in return?”
“In return I’ll let you listen to the conversation.”
“You consider that a trade?” She laughed and ran up the front steps. “No, thank you.”
He sighed heavily, and a bit dramatically at that, she thought.
“Tell me what you’d like in return,” he called after her.
She didn’t hesitate. “I want to see the jack
et you are so sure belongs to Frankie Vidoni.” She held up a hand to stop his inevitable protest. “I know it’s evidence, but I’m sure you can pull some strings and let me peek at it.”
Looking less than pleased, he nodded. “It’s a deal. I’ll be here sometime in the late morning to pick you up.”
“Make it eight o’clock on the dot. I’ll introduce you to the person who took the food up to Mooch.” She opened the front door a crack. “If you’re interested, that is.”
“Eight it is, Miss Mancini, but hear me well. I’ll be doing the questioning. You listen. I talk.”
Sophia smiled. “We can work all that out in the morning, Captain. Good night.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sophia was unprepared for the reception that awaited her when she walked into the kitchen.
Silence. Absolute silence. Which, in an Italian-American family, usually meant only one thing. Trouble.
Angelo, her grandfather, Francesca, and Luciano sat around the kitchen table and looked at her without uttering a single word. She stared back.
“What?” she finally cried. “What’s wrong?”
“Ci chiede cosa c’e che non va?” Grandpa grumbled, throwing up his hands. “She asks us what’s wrong?” he repeated in English.
“Yes, I am asking,” she answered. “Did something happen while I was gone? Oh my God, who’s sick? Who died?”
“Nobody died,” her grandfather said. He pointed to an empty chair opposite him. “Sit down.”
She slipped off her shoes and joined them at the table.
Her grandfather sat, hands clasped, a dour expression on his face. Francesca sat with Mooch’s kitten curled up in her lap. She looked more curious than upset.
“Interesting day, Sophia?” Angelo asked.
“You could say that,” she hedged.
“Did you meet Joe DiMaggio?” Luciano asked, his eager eyes hopeful.
“No, caro, I didn’t meet Joe DiMaggio.” She smiled at him. “Come over here and give me a hug.”
She gathered her nephew on her lap and hugged him tight. He was the best part of her world. The idea that Charles Burkwaite was trying to take Luciano away from them tore at her heart.
“Stop, you’re hugging me too hard.”
“I have to. I missed you so much today. How are you feeling? You look recovered from Papa’s cooking.”
He wiggled out of her arms, but did give her a quick kiss. “Zia, I’m fine. I’ll even help with the chores tomorrow if I can listen to the radio before bed.”
She laughed. “You’re going to help tomorrow anyway, but yes, you may if Francesca will go with you.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “Won’t you, cugina?”
Francesca tucked Precious in the crook of her arm and nodded. “Sure, come on kiddo. I think Ozzie and Harriet should be on soon.” As she followed Luciano out of the room, she turned back to Sophia and mouthed ‘tell me everything later.’
After they were gone, Grandpa leaned forward and narrowed his eyes in displeasure. “E un disonore! A disgrace! You come, at night, in a police car?” He stood and threw his hands up. “This is how I raised you?”
“Wait, Grandpa, it’s not like that. I was working on the Moretti case with Captain McIntyre.” She glanced at Angelo, willing him to jump in, but he stayed quiet. She looked back at her grandfather. “He offered me a ride so I didn’t have to walk home in the dark.”
“That’s the whole story? Nothing more?”
Oh, her grandfather knew her well. Sophia decided the fact she’d been found trespassing in Mooch’s apartment was best left not shared. She felt fifteen again instead of twenty-three.
“I’m sorry I worried you, Grandpa. And you should know that the Captain will be here early tomorrow morning to pick me up again. We’re going to interview a suspect together.”
He frowned. “Why can’t your brother do that, eh?”
Sophia sighed.
Angelo finally spoke. “Grandpa, Sophia and I are partners. You know I need the help.” He rose and put an arm around the older man’s shoulders. “I don’t like Sophia being out all evening either but we need to pull together and do whatever we have to so Luciano doesn’t have to leave. We go back to court in a few weeks.”
“No, we don’t.” Sophia had been dreading this all day. “You’d both better sit down. I have something to tell you.”
She waited while they sat. Judging by their grave expressions, they sensed it wasn’t good news.
“Mrs. Featherstone was here this morning.” She waited for Angelo to ask a question, but he merely nodded. It was a good sign that he at least remembered who Mrs. Featherstone was.
“Just tell us,” Angelo said.
“We have to be back in court in five days.” There. She’d said it.
Her grandfather dropped his head into his hands. Angelo sat back and stared at the ceiling. This was exactly the reaction she’d expected.
“I know, I know, but maybe there’s a good side to this.”
They both looked at her expectantly.
“I’m just not sure what it is yet,” she admitted. “But ... I mean ... well ....” she let her voice trail off for lack of anything positive to add.
Angelo shook his head. “We’re in trouble if you can’t even make anything up.”
“I don’t understand,” their grandfather said. “What happened? Why the change of plans?”
“The judge heard from Angelo’s doctor that Ang missed an appointment.”
“Is that true, son?”
Angelo nodded.
Sophia reached across to take his hand. She could clearly see the anguish in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I was ashamed. I forgot about the appointment.”
“And I forgot to ask you how it went so it’s my fault too. I should have gone with you. We’ll just explain it to the judge.”
“We’re doomed.” Angelo’s expression couldn’t have been more defeated.
“No we’re not,” Sophia lied. “We can make this work out to our advantage.” How she had no idea but he hated seeing the worry in her brother’s eyes. How?” Angelo’s voice broke. “It looks hopeless. Maybe it’s better if--”
“Enough. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Their grandfather stood. “Sophia’s right. We will think of a plan in the morning. It’s too late tonight.” He kissed them both on the top of the head, just as he had every night since they were Luciano’s age. “I’m an old man and I’m going to bed. Don’t either of you stay up too late. Buona notte.”
After he left the room, she poured a cup of tea from the still-warm pot. She’d managed to push the full impact of Mrs. Featherstone’s news out of her mind all day, but now that she faced it, the situation did look hopeless. But she had to be strong for her brother so he could be strong for his son.
“Level with me, sis. What’s going to happen when we go to court?”
“It doesn’t look good that you didn’t go to your appointment. Burkwaite’s lawyers will try to make you seem either incompetent or unwilling to comply with the judge’s order. But I agree with Grandpa. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
He nodded his agreement. “Okay, let’s hear about your day.”
“The most important thing you need to know is that you owe me a dollar. I spent that much in nickels trying to get ahold of you.”
Her attempt at levity was rewarded with a small smile. “I was digging around for information at City Hall. I think I found about a dollar’s worth of gossip too. But first you tell me what you were doing with McIntyre.”
“Just what I said. We were discussing the case.”
“Look, sis, I remember McIntyre well enough to know that he wouldn’t just chitchat about a case with anyone outside of the department, no matter how charming she might be. Try again.”
“Would you believe he found me someplace I shouldn’t have been doing something I shouldn’t have been doing?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. That sounds much more like you
. Now start at the beginning and give me the run through.”
And so she did. She started with her visit to Mooch and repeated the conversation in detail, telling him about the blackmail, Eugene and Vincenzo’s argument the night of the murder, and about Mooch’s unshakable loyalty to Vincenzo.
Angelo listened intently, pausing only to grab paper and pencil so he could make notes while she talked.
Next she ran through her visit to the jail, recounting her conversation with Frankie.
“And he seemed more interested in getting a message to his wife than his lawyers, which I don’t understand,” Sophia said.
“His wife is dying. That’s all that he can think of--getting back to her before it’s too late.” Angelo’s face was sadder than she’d ever seen him look before. Of course he understood. Only too well. “You went to see Mrs. Vidoni next?”
“No, next I went to Mooch’s apartment.”
To his great credit, his only reaction to hearing she’d let herself into the empty apartment was to widen his eyes.
“You saw no evidence of this blackmail ledger anywhere?”
Sophia shook her head. “No.”
“Mooch wouldn’t tell you where it was? You asked him didn’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes but he’s terribly tightlipped when it comes to Frankie. He’s got loyalty down to an art form.” And even though it didn’t serve her purposes, she had to admire it.
“Did you learn anything from Frankie’s wife?”
Sophia thought for a moment. That was a hard question to answer. She shared Lily Vidoni’s cryptic message. “What do you make of it?”
Angelo shook his head. “It can’t mean what it sounds like, can it?”
“I don’t know. They obviously love each other dearly, so she wouldn’t say anything to incriminate him. We’ll see how he reacts tomorrow when I tell him. It’s just so confusing. And I don’t know what possessed me to go Mooch’s without asking him.”
Her brother laughed. “Insatiable curiosity would be my guess. And you’re telling me that McIntyre didn’t even mention arresting you for trespassing?”
“I guess it was my lucky day.”
“Don’t fool yourself, sis. McIntyre is a by the book kind of cop. The only plausible explanation I can think of is that he thinks you know something that he wants to know. I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it again, watch your step with him. You won’t get lucky twice. Now, what’s this about tomorrow morning?”
From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) Page 12
