From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery)

by Mickelson, Caroline

  “We’re going to talk to Jimmy Iacobelli, the little boy who took the food up to Mooch’s apartment.”

  “He said he’s picking you up?”

  She nodded. Something in her brother’s tone of voice was off.

  “And you already gave him the name of this kid?”

  “No. What are you getting at?”

  He fiddled with his pencil. “Have you considered that it’s a set up?”

  It took a full moment for Sophia to realize what he was implying. “You think he’ll go to Mooch for a name and then go question Jimmy without me? But I’d miss out on everything. That’s not fair.”

  “Police work isn’t about playing fair. It’s about justice.”

  The very idea rankled. She’d just have to arrive at the Iacobelli’s apartment before he did.

  Francesca stuck her head into the kitchen. “I’m off to sleep. I’ve already put Luciano in bed and told him you’d both stop in later to kiss him good night.”

  Sophia glanced up at the clock. She hadn’t realized how long they’d been talking. “Thanks, honey. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. Did you have a good day?”

  Francesca nodded. “I did. I saw Stella Moretti today.”

  “How did she seem?”

  “Happy,” Francesca answered.

  Sophia and Angelo exchanged surprised glances. That the new widow Moretti was happy wasn’t a surprise. That she didn’t try to hide it, was.

  “I think she has a new boyfriend too.” Francesca smiled, obviously pleased at their startled reactions. “Don’t you want to know where I saw her?”

  “Stop teasing us,” Sophia said. “Where?”

  “I was coming out of the library and I saw her coming out of the bus station with a man. A postman judging by the uniform. She was all but hanging on his arm and she looked so happy I hardly recognized her.”

  “But you’re sure it was her?” Angelo asked.

  “Absolutely. I wonder what she was doing at the bus depot? It’s not like she would be leaving town this soon. Anyway, good night. Love you both.”

  Sophia and Angelo sat in silence for a few moments.

  “I’m hungry,” Sophia said.

  “I left you a little something on the stove.”

  “Never mind. I’ll live.” She made a face. “I forgot to tell you about my visit to Quadrelli’s.”

  As succinctly as possible, she told him about Frankie’s request, the cousin who had beaten her to the funeral home, and finally about Marco the mailman who was happy to be moving to California. With a woman. With Stella? Her head felt like it was going to explode. It was too much to think about at the end of a long day.

  “I’m going to bed, Angelo. Everyone is a suspect and we’re supposed to be narrowing the field, not widening it. All I keep coming up with are questions when I want answers.” She stood and stretched.

  “Wait, don’t you want to hear what I found out today?”

  Angelo’s smile told her that whatever it was he’d found, it was good. She sat back down.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I went over to City Hall and looked through old marriage records. Vincenzo and Stella’s marriage records, they didn’t have. I called Father Clemente to ask if he’d married them but he said they had gone out of town to be married, but he couldn’t remember where. He did remember something interesting though.”

  He paused to torture her because he knew something she didn’t. Growing up, he’d done it all the time.

  “Spill, Ang. What did Father say?”

  “He remembered that before Vincenzo came back and started courting Stella, he lived for a few years in Las Vegas. So, on a hunch, I called a guy I was in the service with, who happens to be a lawyer, and he did some checking for me.”

  “Who is this friend?” The fact Angelo remembered someone he’d served with was good news in itself.

  “Giancarlo Cappamagio. A great guy. I invited him out to visit. He’s single, by the way.”

  “Not you too.” Sophia made a face. “Let’s stick to business. What did this Giancarlo find?”

  Angelo grinned. “A record of Vincenzo’s first marriage.”

  “Wait, you’re telling me Vincenzo was a widower? I mean, his first wife had to have died so that he could remarry in the Catholic Church, right? Stella’s too devout to ever marry a divorced man--”

  “Do you want to know who the first Mrs. Moretti was or not?” Angelo interrupted her.

  She nodded. “Who was the lucky woman?”

  “Maria Acino.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  At seven thirty the next morning, Sophia was sitting at the Iacobelli’s kitchen table, a cup of tea in hand. The smell of a full Italian breakfast permeated the air.

  “My boy didn’t mean to harm anyone, I tell you that,” Mrs. Iacobelli called over her shoulder. She stood at the counter slicing a loaf of bread. “He’s a good boy.”

  “I’m very sure he is,” Sophia agreed. She glanced at the child who sat fiddling with his knife and fork. “Can I help with anything, Mrs. Iacobelli?”

  “No. You sit. I’m almost done.” She poured three glasses of orange juice and carried them to the table. She smiled at Sophia. “We’re glad to have company, aren’t we Jimmy?”

  Jimmy nodded without bothering to look up.

  Mrs. Iacobelli’s warm greeting had been a pleasant surprise. Sophia sensed that the woman was lonely, or perhaps just naturally effusive and welcoming to strangers. Either way, Sophia was pleased to have been invited in and not turned away.

  “You say you’re a friend of Mooch’s?” Mrs. Iacobelli asked. Her brown eyes were questioning, but not suspicious. She placed a platter of sausages and fried peppers next to a basket of bread.

  “I am.” Sophia didn’t consider this a total untruth. She’d left Mooch’s hospital room on good terms with him yesterday. And kitten-sitting was something friends did for each other.

  “How come I never saw you in the building before?” Jimmy asked.

  Sophia smiled at him, glad he’d broken his silence.

  “I was the one who found Mr. DiMuccio,” she told him.

  “Everyone calls him Mooch.”

  Sophia nodded. “You’re right.”

  She joined Jimmy and his mother in a blessing over the breakfast, and then allowed Mrs. Iacobelli to fill her plate. They talked while they ate, chatting about people they knew in common.

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was getting close to eight o’clock. It wouldn’t be long before Captain McIntyre showed up.

  “I saw Mooch yesterday at the hospital,” Sophia said.

  “How is he?” Mrs. Iacobelli asked. Noting Sophia’s quick glance at Jimmy, his mother hastened to reassure her. “You can speak freely in front of Jimmy. He’s the man of the house, aren’t you, son?”

  Jimmy nodded, his eyes suddenly moist. Sophia’s heart hurt for him. She and Angelo hadn’t been much older when they’d lost their parents. She’d seen the framed photo of a man in uniform in the living room. The Iacobelli’s were now among the households no longer awaiting their loved one’s return from the war.

  “Mooch was poisoned, which I’m sure you’ve heard.”

  Jimmy and his mother nodded in unison.

  “He’s going to eventually be fine from what I understand,” Sophia continued. “As you can imagine, his throat will take time to heal, and it’ll be awhile before he is back to normal.”

  She turned to Jimmy. “Mooch told me that you were nice enough to bring up a plate of food to him that day. That was kind of you.”

  Jimmy looked up, his eyes wide and his expression solemn. “I didn’t mean anything bad by taking that food up to him.”

  “Of course you didn’t, son.” His mother smiled affectionately at him. “You were just trying to be helpful, isn’t that right?”

  Jimmy nodded.

  “Mooch is a lucky man to have such good neighbors. And he isn’t upset at all with you. Yesterday he told me to be
nice when I was asking you questions.”

  “Why are you asking questions?” Jimmy asked.

  “I told Mooch I wanted to help find the person who hurt him.”

  “What about the police? Aren’t they looking?”

  “I’m sure they are. In fact, they’ll probably be around this morning to talk to you too. But will you answer a few questions for me first?”

  Jimmy nodded.

  “Did you recognize the person who asked you take the food up to Mooch?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “What can you tell me about this person?” She tried again. “Was it a man or a woman?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “It was hard to tell. I guess it was a woman.”

  “What was she wearing?”

  “Ladies clothes--a black dress, a black hat with a veil, and black boots.”

  “Boots, Jimmy?” his mother questioned him. “Don’t you mean shoes?”

  He shook his head. “Boots. Too big and ugly for a lady. That’s what confused me. And her voice was odd too.”

  “Odd how?” Sophia asked.

  “Her voice was funny. Scratchy.” He shrugged. “Maybe she was old or maybe she was sick.”

  Or maybe she was trying to disguise her voice, Sophia thought wryly. This was like trying to nail down a flopping fish.

  “Do you remember what she said to you?”

  “Not exactly, she just asked me to take the food up to Mooch.”

  “Did she speak to you in Italian or English?”

  He thought for a moment. “English.”

  “Did she call him Mooch or Mr. DiMuccio?”

  “Mooch.” Jimmy pushed away his plate. He looked from his mother to Sophia. “I’m real sorry Mooch was hurt. I was only trying to help.”

  Sophia reached over and patted his arm. “We know that Jimmy, and so does Mooch. He’s lucky to have a neighbor like you.”

  The apartment door buzzer sounded. Jimmy’s mother excused herself and returned a moment later with Captain McIntyre a step behind her.

  Sophia smiled at him. “Good Morning, Captain. You’re just in time for breakfast.”

  “For the love of heaven, Miss Mancini, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Sophia quickened her steps.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Confused are you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Sophia slowed her steps as the police captain seemed determined to walk with her to the bus stop. “Everything Jimmy and his mother told me, they doubtless told you.”

  “Possibly.” Captain McIntyre fell into step beside her.

  “What do you mean by possibly?”

  “Surely we don’t need a translator now, do we?”

  They walked on in silence for a few moments. In the quiet, Sophia could hear her brother’s reminder that the man beside her did nothing without a good, self-serving reason.

  She stopped walking and waited for him to do the same.

  “You don’t answer every question you’re asked do you?” she challenged him.

  An expression that could almost pass for amusement flashed across his face. “Frankly, with the number of questions you ask, Miss Mancini, it’s doubtful anyone could answer them all.”

  “Humor me and answer just one more, Captain. Why did you show up at the Iacobelli’s in uniform on your day off? And what do you want from me?”

  “That’s two questions, Miss Mancini. In answer to the first, I may be off-duty, but I’m not the sort of man to spend the day fishing when I have a case that I need to solve. And the uniform was to establish a sense of authority and legitimacy. I don’t have the advantage that you do.”

  “Advantage?”

  “Being Italian is your ticket to all manner of confidences and conversations I’m not privy to. As to what I want from you, agree to have coffee with me.”

  They’d reached the bus stop. She turned to look up at him.

  “Why?” she asked. “So you can try to pry all of the information out of me that I’ve worked so hard to discover?”

  The sound of the bus rumbling around the corner reached them before it actually came into sight. Once it was close enough, she saw it was the number four bus--the one she wanted.

  “I was thinking about what my uncle said about our working together. It won’t hurt you to hear me out,” he said.

  Sophia didn’t want to admit it, but she was curious. She held no illusions that the police captain was the sort of man to give away information easily, but she relished the idea of at least trying to learn what he knew.

  And she did have questions. Far too many of them. What she most wanted to know was what he thought of Eugene Gallo. As busy as she’d been thinking about Maria, Stella, and Frankie as suspects, the new sign and menus at the ristorante still didn’t sit well with her.

  The bus stopped and several people got off. Sophia joined the line of passengers wanting to board. She fished a coin out of her wallet.

  “Meet me at Carelli’s Bakery in Little Italy in an hour.” She took several steps forward as the line shortened. “I think best with an espresso and a pasticiotti in front of me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You just ate a full breakfast.”

  She didn’t dignify that with an answer.

  The bus doors shut behind her and Sophia sank into a well-worn seat. Her mind was abuzz with names, faces, alibis, and more questions than she thought she could ever answer. Her brain was overloaded but also exhilarated in a way she’d never experienced before.

  She could understand why Angelo, and Captain McIntyre for that matter, loved detective work. It was the ultimate puzzle.

  A puzzle that she was desperate to solve before the murderer struck again.

  ***

  Maria Acino was leaving Carelli’s just as Sophia arrived at the bakery. She tried to keep her delight at running into Maria from being too obvious. The last thing she wanted to do was frighten Maria off.

  “Maria, what a lovely surprise.” Sophia blocked the doorway, not willing to give the other woman a chance to escape. “Don’t leave. Sit and talk with me a moment.”

  Maria looked uncertain. “I’m not sure, Sophia, I was going--”

  “Nonsense,” Sophia interrupted her. She stepped into the bakery, forcing Maria to step backwards. Once the door was closed behind them, Sophia put a hand on Maria’s back and guided her to a table by the window. “You’re the only person I can talk to about this who would understand. I need your help.”

  “If this is about what happened after Mass, please just forget I said anything.” Maria sat in the chair Sophia pulled out for her.

  “Oh no, Maria, that’s forgotten.” Sophia leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I mean, it’s natural enough that you’d be nervous the day after a murder. Anyone would be. No, what I really wanted was your advice about this,” she waved a hand over her dress. “I’m a fashion nightmare.”

  A relieved and amused smile stretched across Maria’s face. “You want my advice about clothing?”

  Sophia nodded.

  “Well, then, I’m your gal.” Maria grinned.

  Sophia smiled back. She was relieved to have thought of a reason to spend time with Maria, even though she feared she’d somehow end up with a shockingly pink frock in her wardrobe. And she’d have to dip into her savings to buy the eyesore too, but if she was able to gather any information about Maria’s marriage to Vincenzo, it would be worth the cost of three pink dresses, however hideous.

  Maria slapped her hand on the table and her bangle bracelets clinked in unison. She eyed Sophia’s dress critically. “I’m seeing you in something much more colorful--something livelier. Let’s go shopping now.”

  “I can’t, Maria. I’m meeting ... someone.”

  Maria raised an eyebrow. “Someone, eh?” She nodded knowingly. “And this certain someone, would they be the reason you are interested in vamping up your wardrobe?”

  Sophia froze. Oh God, her big mouth was going to be the death of he
r one day, or at least the cause of her total and utter humiliation. The last thing she needed was a rumor to start flying around that she had a romantic interest. Her aunts and cousins would stop at nothing--nothing--to find out who it was.

  “Please don’t say anything to anyone, Maria. It’s too early. You know how families can be. Once mine hears of this ....” She shook her head, truly too horrified at the thought to finish her sentence.

  “Oh, don’t you worry, honey. I’m the soul of discretion. But you’ve come to the right woman for help.” Maria practically beamed at her, apparently thrilled at the idea of a shopping trip.

  The bells over the door chimed as Tiernan stepped into Carelli’s. He’d taken the time to change out of his uniform and into a pair of dark slacks and a white button down shirt with a green tie. He looked ... well, Maria’s appreciative expression said it all.

  Captain McIntyre glanced around the room until he saw Sophia. As he wound his way through the tables, conversations in the room hushed, as if by some implicit agreement that a man joining Sophia at her table was more interesting than anything they could possibly be discussing.

  “Miss Mancini, thank you for meeting me.” He turned to Maria. “Good day, Mrs. Acino.”

  Maria stood and tugged at the hem of her dress, a move Sophia judged to be a well-practiced attempt at modesty.

  “It’s Miss Acino, actually. I’ve been a widow for so long now the Mrs. doesn’t seem fitting, if you know what I mean.”

  “Interesting. I didn’t know that there was a statute of limitations for widows.” Captain McIntyre stood, arms clasped behind his back, appearing for all the world as if he was at home in Carelli’s Bakery. “Am I interrupting you ladies?”

  Maria took her cue and stepped back from the table. She winked at Sophia. “I’ll look forward to our meeting.” She turned her high-wattage smile on Tiernan. “Captain McIntyre, I’m sure it’s always a pleasure.” With a tinkling little wave, she was gone.

  “What appointment would that be?” He settled himself in the chair across from her. “Are you setting up an interrogation?”