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

by Mickelson, Caroline

  The hospital? That would explain the pillows and soft bed.“How did I get here? What happened?”

  “The child can’t be quiet. Not to save her life.” This voice belonged to Grandpa. And it wasn’t his happy voice either. He stood at the end of the bed, arms folded across his chest. Beside him stood Captain McIntyre.

  What was he doing here? She groaned. She still didn’t know what she was doing here. She desperately wanted to put the pieces together, but it was hard to think through the pounding in her head.

  “I need to ask you some questions, Miss Mancini.”

  She tried to focus on the police captain. His questions could wait. She had some of her own. “Where did you find me?” she asked, keeping her eyes on her brother.

  “We didn’t,” Angelo answered. “A nurse coming on duty found you in one of the corridors, propped up in a wheelchair.”

  Sophia frowned and struggled to remember how she could have ended up at St. Joseph’s. An image of Maria Acino and something pink floated across her mind’s eyes. She’d been shopping with Maria. But surely she and Maria hadn’t come to blows over a dress. Pizza. They’d eaten, or rather she’d wanted to, and Maria had talked. But then what?

  “What is the last thing you remember, Miss Mancini?”

  Sophia looked at the police captain for a long moment without answering. She wished she knew herself, but it was just beyond her memory’s reach.

  “The funeral,” she said, gratefully accepting a cup of water from her brother. She took a small sip and handed it back. “How was Vincenzo’s funeral?”

  Her Grandpa, Little Italy’s self-appointed expert on funerals, answered for Angelo.

  “Crowded. Everybody and their mother-in-law was there, packed in tight. At least eight to a pew. Father Clemente said a lovely Mass.” He sat down on the end of the bed. “Stella wore her widow’s veil long enough that no one could catch a glimpse of her face, but I bet you ten dimes to one that she was--”

  Captain McIntyre coughed discreetly. Her Grandpa ignored the hint. He kept right on talking, “--thanking the Virgin Mary for her husband’s untimely death. Not that I blame her. That Vincenzo was a prize-winning idiot if ever there was one. No, I think Stella--”

  “Right then, I’m pulling rank here,” Captain McIntyre interrupted him. “Angelo, please take your grandfather out to the waiting room so I can have a word with your sister.”

  Angelo shot her a quick look, and she nodded to reassure him. She could handle the captain.

  After they were gone, Tiernan pulled a chair up beside the bed. “Can I get you anything?”

  Sophia shook her head. She longed for a hot bath, a box of chocolates, and one of Luciano’s world-class hugs. None of which he could give her.

  “Why did you miss the funeral?”

  His question triggered an explosion of answers, and her afternoon came flooding back to her. She’d talked Tino into taking her to Frankie’s warehouses. What she’d found there paraded across her mind as if on fast forward. Right up until the moment when she’d heard the warehouse door open, and she knew she’d been caught.

  “Why weren’t you at the funeral?” Captain McIntyre asked again, his shrewd eyes intent upon her face. “Where did you go?”

  What to tell him? Sophia knew the truth wasn’t an option. She needed time to sort it all out. “I can’t exactly remember everything,” she hedged.

  “Tell me what you can remember.”

  The man didn’t let up.

  “I was shopping with Maria Acino.”

  “Mrs. Acino was at the funeral. Why weren’t you?”

  Equal amounts of anger and pain shot through Sophia as she tried to sit up, and then quickly realized she was wearing a hospital gown and not her own clothes. She settled back against the pillow and drew the sheet up over her chest.

  “Why are you questioning me as if I did something wrong?” She knew she sounded angry and defensive but Tiernan McIntyre got under her skin. Every time. “Maybe I fell and hit my head and someone helped me into the hospital.”

  “Someone was kind enough to help you into the hospital, but then, suddenly, they have a change of heart and unceremoniously dump you in an empty wheelchair and leave you in a quiet corridor?”

  “It’s possible.” She wished she could get up and walk out of the room but, hospital gowns being what they were, she had to stay put.

  “I’ll tell you what I think is possible,” Captain McIntyre said, leaning forward and speaking in an affected, conspiratorial tone of voice. “I think you wanted to sneak off and investigate a theory you had about Vincenzo’s murder. You chose a time when you knew most of the people under suspicion would be at St. Catherine’s pretending to mourn Vincenzo, and you got into trouble. How’s that for a theory?”

  “It’s full of holes.”

  He laughed. Actually laughed. Sophia would have bet it wasn’t possible. In fact, she decided, Tiernan McIntyre could be almost attractive in a roguish way when he wasn’t being so terribly serious. Horrified by the direction her thoughts were taking, she pressed her fingers to her temples to ward off further such thoughts. What was the matter with her? She must have been hit harder than she’d realized.

  “Try again,” he said, after he finished laughing.

  “The best I can do, Captain McIntyre, is to assure you that I’ll notify you immediately if I remember anything you need to know.” When he didn’t answer she added, “You can stop acting like I’m guilty of something.”

  “Ah, but I think you are, Miss Mancini. You’re guilty of getting in over your head, and look what’s happened to you.”

  Sophia refused to take the bait. She remained quiet.

  A knock at the door interrupted their silent standoff. A nurse stood in the doorway.

  “Miss Mancini, there’s a gentleman to see you. Visiting hours are almost over, and I told him so, but he insisted that you would want to see him.”

  The police captain twisted around in his chair. “Miss Mancini isn’t seeing anyone at the moment, nurse.”

  “Wait,” Sophia called out just as the nurse was about to pull the door closed behind her. “Send him in, please.” She had no idea who so desperately wanted to see her, but she didn’t care. An enthusiastic encyclopedia salesman would be an improvement over her present company.

  A moment later the door opened. It was Frankie Vidoni.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Out.” Captain McIntyre jumped to his feet. “Miss Mancini is not wishing to see you.”

  Oh, but she was. Sophia very much wanted to hear what Frankie had to say. And it had better be good.

  “Come in, Mr. Vidoni,” she called to him. “I’m curious what brings you here.”

  With a terrific frown, the police captain stood aside. “That makes two of us then, Vidoni. You have exactly three minutes.”

  Frankie stood at the end of the hospital bed, hat in hand. His expression was guarded, cautious, and curious, but not as sheepish as she would have liked.

  “I apologize for interrupting,” Frankie said, his voice even and smooth. He certainly didn’t sound guilty of bashing her over the head. But he had. She remembered perfectly. “I was deeply concerned about Miss Mancini’s welfare and wanted to see for myself that she was well.”

  Sophia smiled. “Don’t apologize for interrupting us. The captain was just asking me if I remembered how I ended up here.”

  “Surely you need to rest,” Frankie said. He turned to the police captain. “Let’s go and see if we can find the doctor and see what he has to say about Miss Mancini’s condition.”

  “And you just out on bail not four hours ago. Interesting that you’d rush here.” Captain McIntyre raised an eyebrow. “Quite telling.”

  “How did you get bail set?” Sophia asked, looking from one man to the other.

  Frankie smirked. “All the police had was a flimsy piece of evidence--”

  “Hold on Vidoni. I’d hardly call a bloodstained jacket you admit is yours to be flimsy ev
idence.”

  “I took off my jacket soon after I arrived at the party. Anyone could have made off with it--absolutely any man, woman, or child, and you know it. The only thing you can prove is that I was in shirtsleeves. Not a crime McIntyre.”

  “Stop,” Sophia protested. “My head is throbbing.” Neither man said a word nor made a move to leave. She sighed.

  “Captain McIntyre, could we possibly talk in the morning? I don’t have anything to tell you right now.” She darted a quick glance in Frankie’s direction. “It’s all still a bit hazy, but it will make more sense tomorrow morning I’m sure.”

  The police captain didn’t look the least bit pleased by her request, but he nodded. He flipped his notebook shut and slipped it into his uniform jacket pocket. “I’ll be back in the morning then but first I want a last word with you. Wait outside the door, Vidoni.”

  Once Frankie was gone, Tiernan sat back down in the chair beside her bed. He leaned forward. “Miss Mancini, I don’t know what you’re about here, but I would be gravely remiss if I didn’t warn you that you’re playing with fire. You were assaulted today. Someone was sending you a message.”

  He looked steadily into her eyes. For a second, Sophia thought she saw genuine concern, but it was gone so quickly she had to be mistaken. Doubtless it was only frustration. The captain never bothered to hide the fact he found her endlessly annoying.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Captain.”

  He rose to his feet. “I’m instructing hospital security that Mr. Vidoni has five minutes with you and not a second more. There’s a hospital security guard outside the door, and it’s to be left open.”

  He opened the door and motioned Frankie to enter. “Five minutes and then you’ll be escorted out.” He left without a backwards glance.

  Sophia watched him leave with the same sense of frustration she experienced after spending any amount of time with him. She had no idea what to make of Tiernan McIntyre. Frankie Vidoni was another matter altogether. She knew just what she thought of him. “You’d best start with an apology, Mr. Vidoni.”

  He hung his hat on the door handle and pointed to the chair beside her bed. “May I?”

  “Go ahead.” Such nerve. The man had moxie in spades. “The captain has only given you five minutes, so I’d suggest you talk fast.”

  Frankie settled himself into the chair. “We’ve as much time as we need.” He gestured toward the door. “I happen to have an arrangement with the head of security here at the hospital.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Sophia eyed him. Now that she knew what she did about him, Frankie didn’t unnerve her in the least. Before today, she’d tip-toed around him carefully, thinking him to be a loaded weapon. But in reality, he was nothing more than a little plastic toy pistol. “Why did you hit me over the head?”

  “I panicked.” He bit his lip and looked down at his hands. “I’m ... umm ... very ... umm ... this is all so regrettable.”

  “And?” He was not getting him off that easily.

  “I’m sorry.” He spoke as if the words burned his tongue. “Tino told me you were in the warehouse. I didn’t want you to find ... well, you know.”

  “Well, I did. And I will only accept your apology on one condition.”

  “How much?” He leaned back in the chair. “Name your price.”

  Sophia would have slapped him if she could have reached that far. “Don’t insult me, Mr. Vidoni. My silence is not for sale.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, Miss Mancini. I’m just anxious to come to an agreement in an effort to maintain the private nature of my business.”

  “You mean your sham of a business.”

  “Ouch. That’s being a bit harsh.”

  “No, Mr. Vidoni. It’s called being honest. I don’t have time to explain the entire concept to you right now, but it’s something you should consider trying.” Sophia shifted, trying to get comfortable. She felt trapped in the hospital bed and it was all Frankie’s fault. “Vincenzo knew, didn’t he?”

  Frankie nodded. “I don’t know how he found out. The man was a scourge. I refused to be blackmailed.”

  “Did you kill Vincenzo?”

  He frowned. “Of course not. Don’t be crass.”

  “You knock me out, dump me in a wheelchair in an empty corridor without waiting to see if someone will help me, and you call me crass?” Sophia wanted to scream. This man was too much. “I have half a mind to call Captain McIntyre and tell him everything.”

  “But you won’t,” Frankie shot back. “You want something.”

  Sophia nodded. “I do. I want two things, and the first is an explanation of what I saw today.”

  “I suppose I owe you that. Let us just say that things aren’t exactly as they appear to be with my business.”

  “I gathered that much. It looks like you raided Italy just before the war.”

  Frankie shrugged. “I wouldn’t use the word raided, exactly. I prefer to think of it as a shrewd business decision. I knew that Mussolini and his Camicie Nere were trouble. Add in that hideous little Austrian, and the writing was on the wall. So I imported everything from Italy that I could get my hands on.”

  “So I saw.” Sophia thought back to crate after crate of silks, leather goods, religious art, books, phonograph records, and enough rosaries to score a free pass into heaven.

  “Our little community here in Harrison Heights may not be enormous, but think, Miss Mancini, of all the people in these fifty who want things from the Old Country. I’m simply providing a service.”

  “And hiding your import business was worth hitting me over the head?” She wanted to throttle him. “What about the act? Explain that to me.”

  Frankie actually looked embarrassed. “I’ve worked hard to cultivate my image. You wouldn’t understand.” Frankie stared off into the corner for a moment, as if wrestling with unpleasant thoughts. Or memories.

  “No, I don’t understand. You’ve built up a successful import business and are living a perfectly legitimate life. Why act like you’re on the other side of the law?”

  Frankie leaned forward. “I like having people slightly afraid of me. It makes me feel like I matter. My late father scrubbed dishes in a restaurant and swept floors in a five and dime his entire adult life. People never even noticed him. He didn’t count. It wore him down, and I didn’t want to end up like that. So I started acting a little tougher than I actually felt in school. It was amazing how people treated me differently when they thought they had something to fear.”

  “That’s what this whole thing is about?”

  Frankie stood and paced back and forth. He finally stopped and rested his hands on the end of her bed frame. “You don’t have to understand. It may mean nothing to you, but it means everything to me. I’ll do anything to keep my reputation intact.”

  The words of a desperate man. Desperate enough to kill to keep his secret?

  “I have another question. What was your wife talking about when she said she knew what you’d done? What did she want you to tell the police?”

  “Do I have to answer that?” he asked.

  “One of us is going to talk. Either you tell me what I want to know, or I tell the police what they want to know about what I remember,” Sophia told him. “Your choice.”

  His sigh was long-suffering. She ignored it. She could wait him out. She wasn’t going anywhere. He’d seen to that.

  Finally he spoke. “Lily always believed I was involved in ... um ... an organization, you could say. At least I thought she believed that, I really did, but she was just going along with the charade out of respect to me.” He looked down at his hands. “I went straight to her today when I was granted bail. She told me she loved me the way I was, no pretense needed. You can’t imagine what a treasure that woman is.”

  “She is truly special. I knew that right away.” She hated to push him on the sensitive subject of his wife, but she had to know. “What exactly did she want you to tell the police?”

&
nbsp; “Lily wanted me home at the end,” his voice caught and he held up a hand while he composed himself. “She wanted me to tell the police about my true business affairs so they’d release me.”

  He obviously hadn’t, not based on the acrimony she’d witnessed when he’d spoken with the police captain. “You didn’t because your lawyers got you out first,” she guessed.

  He nodded. “I’ll worry about everything else later. Right now all I want to do is be with my wife. However, I did feel that I needed to come and check on you, at least.”

  Sophia couldn’t bring herself to thank him for his concern, not when he was the one who put her here in the first place. But she did understand his wish to be with his wife. “Just a few more questions. It’s important. What was Vincenzo’s reaction when you refused to be blackmailed?”

  Frankie shrugged. “Moretti was an idiot, a hot head. Everyone knows that. He vowed to get revenge, but he ran out of time, which makes me a lucky man.”

  “It makes you look guilty.”

  Frankie shrugged. “No one can prove anything, can they? That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? It’s about the evidence prosecutors have to build a case with, and how they present the facts to a jury. You see, Miss Mancini, not everything is as it appears.”

  Sophia decided to try a different approach. “Did you know that Vincenzo was blackmailing your mistress?”

  “Maria?” Frankie frowned. “What did she tell you?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.” That should make for some interesting pillow talk.

  “I have more important things to worry about than Maria Acino. Maria’s part of the--what should I call it?”

  “Sham?”

  “Image is the word I was looking for. Having a flashy dame like Maria on my arm was part of the picture I wanted to paint, but my heart’s with my Lily. No question. Always has been, and always will be.”

  Sophia resisted the urge to take Frankie to task for having a mistress when he had a gem of wife in Lily Vidoni. From the way Primo Quadrelli had spoken, she knew Frankie’s wife wasn’t long for this world.