by Peg Cochran
Flo was waiting for her when she got there. She had on a short, black leather skirt and suede high-heeled boots. Lucille couldn’t begin to imagine wearing an outfit like that. She went for comfortable styles herself, with elastic waists and nothing that needed ironing or dry cleaning.
“What on earth is that you’re wearing?” Flo said when she saw Lucille. She pointed at Lucille’s chest.
Lucille looked down at her T-shirt with the grinning caricature of Rocky Abruzzo on it.
“Let’s get our sandwiches, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”
Lucille ordered a Reuben sandwich. She figured she was fine with the rye bread, corned beef, Swiss cheese and sauerkraut, which was nothing but cabbage, after all, and therefore a vegetable, but she might be breaking her diet just a bit with the Russian dressing. She doubted the cavemen had any of that back in their day. But smelling pizzas all morning had stirred up her appetite, and she was starving.
“Okay,” Flo said as they settled into their seats. “What’s the deal with the T-shirt? I thought you guys were big fans of Sal’s?”
“Sal’s is closed.”
“No kidding. Closed like forever? Or just till Sal is in the ground?”
“Forever. I heard it from the guy who used to work there. Tiffany has closed the place and is leaving the business.”
“That’s really odd,” Flo said, picking at the chips that came with her sandwich. “She’s still going to need money, right? Unless they have a ton of cash socked away.”
Lucille stopped with her sandwich halfway to her mouth. “Maybe Sal had a nice big fat life insurance policy, and Tiffany decided to help things along so to speak.”
Flo pointed a finger at Lucille, “You know, you could be right. She always seemed very cold to me. I can picture her killing Sal to get the insurance money. Everyone always said Sal only married her out of pity after that car accident.”
“Yeah, and maybe he had someone on the side.”
“And Tiffany got nervous thinking Sal might dump her for someone else.”
“I’d say that makes her a prime suspect.” Lucille took a bite of her sandwich and wiped some grease from her chin with her napkin. “But we got another suspect, too.” She pointed to the picture on her T-shirt. “Rocky Abruzzo.”
“He the guy that owns that other pizza parlor? The one across the street from Sal’s?”
“Yeah. Get this, while I was working there today—”
“Whoa.” Flo held up a hand. “Don’t tell me you applied for that part-time job.”
Lucille nodded. “And I got the job, thank you very much.”
“So are you going to quit your job at St. Rocco’s?”
Lucille squirmed a little in her seat. “Not exactly.” She explained to Flo about the pizza.
Flo started to laugh.
“It’s not funny,” Lucille said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Flo wiped her eyes with the corner of her napkin. “I would have loved to have seen that, Lucille. I told you it wasn’t a good idea.”
“Yeah?” Lucille glared at Flo. “Well, I got some good information while I was there. So how about that?”
Flo quieted down. “Okay, tell me what.”
“Someone claimed to have found a roach in their slice of pizza at Rocky’s. Rocky thinks Sal set it up to put him out of business. They had to close for a week on account of the Health Department wanted to do a full inspection.”
Flo whistled. “That would make me pretty mad if I was Rocky. And I can see him stabbing someone. Richie says it looks like the killer used some kind of kitchen knife.”
“Really? Well, Rocky’s got plenty of those around.”
“But so does Tiffany.”
Lucille frowned. “True. Looks like we got ourselves a couple of suspects.”
“We? What do you mean by we?”
“You and me. Who did you think?”
“I don’t know, Lucille. Last time we almost got killed. And the time before that, too.”
“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out.”
“I don’t have nine lives like a cat, Lucille. Why don’t we let the police handle this one? Besides, what’s it to you?”
“I told you—Ma is good friends with Sal’s mother, and she’s all upset that the police are getting nowhere on the case.” Lucille glared at Flo.
“Yeah? Well, Richie said they expect a big break any day now.” Flo fiddled with the last bit of her sandwich. “Oh, all right, count me in.”
Lucille held up her hand and they did a fist bump.
“By the way,” Lucille said as they walked out to their cars, “how’s it going with Richie?”
Flo frowned and leaned against the trunk of the Olds. “Okay, I guess. There’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?” Lucille fished her keys from her purse.
“Richie is getting too serious. We went to the mall the other day, and he dragged me over to a jewelry store to look at the rings in the window.”
“But that’s great, Flo. Richie will make a great husband.”
“There’s just one problem, Lucille. I don’t know if I want to get married. Or at least I don’t know if I want to marry Richie.”
“Why on earth not? He’s a good guy.” Lucille didn’t understand Flo sometimes. She had a habit of looking a gift horse in the mouth.
“He is a good guy, but is that it? Is that all there is? Me settled down with Richie in his condo. Living on a cop’s salary and cutting coupons and pinching pennies. Maybe a trip to Vegas for some big anniversary. Life staying the same year after year. Like you and Frankie.”
Lucille bristled. “What’s wrong with me and Frankie?”
“Nothing, nothing, don’t go taking offense. It’s just that I’m still young. I’ve still got life ahead of me.”
“I keep telling you, you’re middle-aged now, Flo, like me. And let me tell you something else—a guy like Richie doesn’t come along every day. Here’s your chance to settle down. To have someone to go to bed with and wake up to in the morning. Someone to hold your hand when you’re scared and hug you when you’re sad. Believe me, if you don’t snatch him up, somebody else will.”
“You’re probably right, Lucille, but I just don’t know.” Flo glanced at her watch. “I’d better get back. I’ll call you later,” she yelled over her shoulder as she walked toward her car.
• • •
Lucille pulled into the parking lot of the A&P. She needed to pick up a little something for dinner. It had been nice going out with Frankie the night before—it seemed as if they hardly ever had time to spend alone no more.
She really didn’t feel like making a meal tonight. She was tired—spending the morning at Rocky’s Pizza Parlor had worn her out. She stifled a yawn as she picked through a bunch of tomatoes. They were as hard as bocce balls. How was a person supposed to make a decent meal for their family when that was all they could find?
She’d been upset with the way Flo was talking, but now she thought maybe she understood it. Flo didn’t want to have to rush home from work every night to cook dinner and look after a husband. The way things were now she could do what she wanted, get take-out, microwave one of them frozen dinners—although they didn’t look as if they would feed a bird, let alone a grown woman—or skip dinner altogether and spend the evening watching television and painting her nails.
Still, when you got in bed at night, sometimes them sheets were awful cold—it was nice to have a warm body to snuggle up to.
Lucille walked farther down the produce aisle and checked out the eggplants—nice and firm, and the stems were fresh-looking and green. She’d make some eggplant rollatini. It was one of Frankie’s favorites.
The baby was crying when Lucille walked into the house. Bernadette was in the kitchen with her, trying to get her to nurse. Lucy’s little face was all scrunched up and she was as red as a beet from crying.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” Bernadette looked at her daughter help
lessly.
“See how she’s drawing her legs up?” Lucille pointed at the baby.
“Yeah.” Bernadette looked doubtful.
“She’s probably got gas. I’ll make her some fennel tea.”
“What on earth is that?”
“You boil some fennel seeds in water, strain it, add a bit of sugar and then let it cool. It’ll help with the gas.”
Bernadette continued to look doubtful.
“Look, my mother gave it to me, I gave it to you, so there’s no reason not to give it to little Lucy.” Lucille stood with her hands on her hips. “And by the way, missy, when is the baby going to be baptized, huh? I was raised in the church, you was raised in the church and so was Tony. So what’s all this about not wanting her to have a christening?”
Bernadette stood with the baby in her arms, rocking back and forth. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”
Lucille opened her mouth, but just then the phone rang. She glared at Bernadette and grabbed it from the hook.
“Yeah? I mean, hello.”
“Is this Mrs. Mazzarella?”
“Yes.” The voice wasn’t familiar. Was this one of them sales calls? Lucille wondered. She didn’t need no magazine subscriptions, and she and Frankie didn’t want to change their cable service or lower their credit card rate.
“This is Dr. Rosendrantz’s office.”
Lucille felt a strange sensation in her stomach. The same kind of feeling she got when something didn’t agree with her.
“The doctor has reviewed the report from your recent mammogram,” the woman continued, “and she wants to do some further testing. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”
Like hell it wasn’t, Lucille thought.
“She’s ordered some more views of your left breast. Just to rule anything out. Can you be at the radiology clinic for an appointment at ten a.m. tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, sure.” Lucille couldn’t remember if she was scheduled to work or not, but it didn’t matter. She had to get this done with right away or she would go crazy.
“Please don’t worry. It’s just routine. In ninety percent of cases like this it turns out that nothing is wrong.”
Ninety percent? Lucille thought. How about one hundred percent? She hung up the phone and started to cry. She had cancer and would die before ever seeing little Lucy baptized.
Chapter 8
Lucille was almost too upset to eat her dinner. She could tell Frankie knew something was wrong by the way he kept looking at her.
“Aren’t you going to finish that?” He pointed his fork at the piece of eggplant left on Lucille’s plate.
She pushed the dish away. “I’m not so hungry tonight. I don’t know why.”
Bernadette and Tony had finished their meal in record time and retreated to the rec room to watch television. Little Lucy had gone down early and they wanted to take advantage of it.
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it, Lu.” Frankie transferred the piece of eggplant from Lucille’s plate to his own.
“I didn’t want to say nothing.”
“Come on, Lu, out with it. You’ll feel better if you tell me.”
That was true, Lucille thought. Lucille began shredding her paper napkin. “I got a call from the doctor’s office today.”
She explained to Frank about having to go for a repeat mammogram the following morning.
“The lady said there’s nothing to worry about, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then listen to her, Lucille. Don’t go borrowing trouble if you don’t have to. Everything is going to be fine.” He got up from the table and put his plate on the counter. “I’ve got my Knights of Columbus meeting tonight. You going to be okay?”
“Sure, sure. You go on. I’ll be fine.”
As Lucille did the dishes, she tried to think of something else besides the test. Like Rocky Abruzzo. She didn’t trust that guy. He had a temper, and there was something sneaky about him.
She’d really like to know if he had an alibi for the time of Sal’s murder, but how was she going to find out?
She thought about it as she stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and wiped down the stove. Maybe that waitress would know. If Rocky had been at the restaurant all day that would rule him out.
She picked up the phone and dialed Flo’s number.
• • •
Lucille was getting her leather jacket out of the closet when Flo arrived.
“We taking your car or mine?”
“Let’s take yours,” Lucille said as she slipped into her jacket. “Sometimes the Olds doesn’t want to start, and we don’t want to miss Nicole. The restaurant closes at nine o’clock.”
“We’d better get a move on then.”
They got into Flo’s Mustang and shot out of the driveway.
“Whoa, we don’t have to rush that much,” Lucille said when Flo floored it.
Still, when they pulled into the parking lot behind Rocky’s they could see the lights were already out.
“Guess we’ll have to try again tomorrow,” Flo said as they sat idling.
“Wait! There’s Nicole now.” Lucille pointed to the back door of Rocky’s. “She must be locking up.”
Before Flo could put the car in gear, Nicole had gotten into her own car and started it up.
“Follow her,” Lucille yelled, pointing out the window.
“What? Like stalk her?”
“We’re not stalking her.”
“Tell that to the cops.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Flo. Nothing’s going to happen. Just don’t lose her.”
“If you say so.” Flo roared out of the driveway, sending loose gravel flying.
“Left, go left,” Lucille shouted. “I wonder where she’s going?”
“Probably home,” Flo grumbled. She stuck close to the tail of Nicole’s car.
“Looks like she’s pulling into the bank parking lot.”
“Probably making the bank deposit.” Flo shivered. “I hated doing that when I worked at the beauty parlor. I always half expected to be robbed before I could turn the money in.”
Flo put on her blinker and followed the car into the parking lot of the Wells Fargo Bank.
Nicole pulled up in front of the night deposit drop-off but didn’t get out of the car.
“I wonder what she’s doing?” Lucille hissed at Flo.
“Maybe she’s still preparing the deposit.”
Lucille grunted. “What’s that noise?”
Flo listened. “Sounds like sirens.”
“Yeah.” Lucille leaned back in her seat. “Something must be going on.”
Nicole still hadn’t gotten out of her car. Flo fiddled with the radio, tuning in an oldies station. “Lucille” by Little Richard came on and Lucille sat up.
“Hey, that’s my song.” She began to sing along, slightly off-key.
Flo gave her a dirty look. “You’re ruining the song with your singing.”
“Well, I am so sorry, I’m sure.” Lucille continued to hum under her breath. “The sirens are getting closer.”
Suddenly the sirens got even closer, and swirling lights flashed across the parking lot, illuminating the inside of Flo’s Mustang with a reddish glow. Meanwhile, Nicole continued to sit in her car.
“What’s going on?” Lucille swiveled around and looked out the back window.
“I think it’s the cops.”
“What are they doing here? Do you think the bank is being robbed?”
“I don’t know how to put this to you, Lucille, but I think they’re after us.”
“Us? But we didn’t do nothing.”
“My guess is that Nicole got freaked out by us following her and called the police.”
“No!”
“Take a look.” Flo gestured toward the window.
Flo’s Mustang was surrounded by New Providence’s finest, their guns drawn and at the ready.
“Sheesh. They can’t possibly think we were goin
g to rob—”
Before Lucille could finish her sentence, a voice came booming over a megaphone. “Get out with your hands up and no one will get hurt.”
“This is like a bad movie,” Flo muttered under her breath. She started to open her car door.
“I know that voice,” Lucille said. “That’s my nephew Gabe. Whoever promoted him beyond traffic control had rocks in their head.”
Lucille buzzed down her window. “Gabe, it’s me, your aunt Lucille.”
She saw Gabe make some frantic gestures, and the police lowered their guns but didn’t put them away.
“Aunt Lucille, is that really you?” Gabe called through his megaphone. “Come out of the car with your hands on your head.”
He had to be kidding. Wait till she told Angela about this. Gabe was going to hear a few words from her, that was for sure.
Lucille cracked open her door and started to get out. The policemen bristled and half raised their guns. Lucille realized this was for real—they weren’t joking—and she started to shake. Meanwhile, Flo had already gotten out of the car and was standing with her hands on her head. Nicole, too, was standing by her car and was talking to one of the officers—the only one who wasn’t busy pointing a gun at Flo and Lucille.
Lucille appealed to Gabe. “We only wanted to talk to Nicole here. We missed her at Rocky’s so we followed her.”
“You scared the crap out of me.” Nicole pointed an accusing finger at them.
“Looks like we don’t have a situation here,” Gabe said to the other officers.
“That’s right, Gabe. There’s no situation, as you put it.” Lucille glared at her nephew. “You can all leave and go chase some real criminals.” Lucille waved a hand at them and the officers shifted uncomfortably.
“We can go,” Gabe reassured them. “It’s just my aunt Lucille. She’s always doing crazy things.”
Crazy things? Wait till she told Angela about that, Lucille thought. She would straighten him out. Crazy things, indeed.
Nicole was still standing there. She cracked her gum loudly. “So do you want to ask me whatever was so important you had to follow me to the bank?” She stood with her hands on her hips.
