by Mary Ellis
‘My sympathy for the loss of your father, Renaldo,’ Jill said primly.
‘Thank you, Miss Wyatt, for coming to pay your respects.’ Renny took hold of Jill’s hand and kissed the back of her fingers like some B-movie Casanova. ‘And please, call me Renny.’
‘OK, and you’re welcome,’ said Jill, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.
For a long moment, Renny smiled at Jill in his smarmy Borelli style before he turned back to Nonni. ‘Are you ready to get out of the sun, Mrs Manfredi? Would you like to sit up front with my grandmother?’
‘No, I’ll talk to Francesca later. Please find me a seat in the back, close to the door.’ Accepting Renny’s arm, Nonni was escorted inside as though a guest of honor.
‘I’ll see you later, Miss Wyatt,’ Renny said over his shoulder.
Before Eric could react to Renny’s outrageousness, Dominic stepped up to take his brother’s place.
‘You’ve got your nerve showing up today, Manfredi.’ Dominic kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the hostility.
Eric stepped in front of Jill in an effort to shield her. ‘I brought my grandmother out of respect for your father. Let’s not cause a scene on the steps of St Mary’s.’
‘If you were so worried ’bout a scene, you wudda put your grandma in a cab and stayed away.’ Dom loomed close enough for Eric to smell his breath. From the fumes Dom exhaled, along with his glassy dark eyes, the man was obviously drunk.
Eric stepped back and held up his hands. ‘Look, let’s just go into Mass and give your father a proper send off. It doesn’t have to be like this between us.’
Dominic refused to be placated. ‘You think I’m stupid, Manfredi? You bring your new girlfriend to the funeral of the man your father put in the ground? Is that your idea of impressing a woman?’
‘My father didn’t put anybody into the ground. Back off, Dominic. If you prefer I leave, I will. But don’t go throwing around unsubstantiated accusations.’
Dominic lunged toward Eric and lost his balance. He might have tumbled headlong down the steps if John Borelli hadn’t grabbed him. ‘Take it easy, brother.’ John snaked an arm around Dominic. ‘Let’s go inside and cool off.’ John took hold of Eric’s sleeve with his other hand. ‘Please, Eric, take the young lady inside and sit down. Our grandmothers will be furious if we can’t show my father due respect. Please.’
‘Let’s do as he says.’ Jill practically pulled him up the steps.
‘I would just as soon have waited for Nonni across the street in the shade,’ he muttered as they slipped into the same pew as Nonni.
‘I know, but I have a job to do.’ Jill winked at him.
It was a small gesture, but it was enough to control Eric’s anger at Dominic’s behavior. Instead he concentrated on the people in attendance. Most he didn’t know, but some he recognized as regular customers of Bella Trattoria. Apparently, the Charlestonians who enjoyed Italian cuisine patronized both establishments. Next he spotted the mayor and several councilmen in the pews, along with an assortment of vendors and local restaurant critics in the culinary world.
Finally, after a sharp elbow to the ribs from Nonni, Eric started paying attention to the funeral. After all, it was the reason they were there.
It didn’t take him long to realize many people actually mourned the loss of Salvatore. When Renny and John stood in the pulpit and described how their father had taught them to hit a baseball, catch a fish, and say their prayers at night, Eric felt ashamed. It was so easy to despise someone based on your own limited perspective. Apparently Mr Borelli had been a good father, just like his own dad. He was also a major benefactor to the church, supported local homeless initiatives, and was a patron of the theater arts.
But what especially touched Eric’s heart was the priest’s message. As Christians, this life was but mere preparation for the next – the one that lasts forever. A training ground for the hereafter. Those who believe will have their sins forgiven and spend eternity with the saints and angels if their hearts are true. Would it be that easy? Eric didn’t think so, at least not for him. While he was busy judging Salvatore Borelli, he should examine his own thoughts and actions. When was the last time he expressed gratitude, other than ‘thanks for the food, let’s eat.’ Or bowed his head in prayer, other than for a win for his beloved Carolina Panthers? Sure, he took his grandmother to Mass each Sunday, but how often did he pay attention to the priest’s message? Simply showing up might fool some people, especially those whose minds were also wandering, but it didn’t fool the one who mattered. As the mourners stood for the pre-communion prayer, Eric choked back a lump in his throat. The emotion wasn’t for Salvatore Borelli. It was because he was nothing but a shameful hypocrite.
At the conclusion of the service, the priest invited everyone to Holy Cross Cemetery for Salvatore’s interment, and then back to the church social hall for lunch. People rose to their feet as the coffin was wheeled down the center aisle, flanked by eight pall bearers. Sofia Borelli, wife of the deceased, sobbed piteously as John and Dominic supported her on both sides. Francesca Borelli, clinging to both Renaldo and Nonni, came next in the procession, followed by an assortment of sisters, brothers, nephews and nieces in various states of distress.
Eric noticed Jill slip a small tablet and pen into her purse as they joined the throng exiting the sanctuary. ‘Taking notes?’ he asked next to her ear.
‘You’d be surprised what an objective bystander can learn at a funeral,’ she whispered.
Eric waited until they were alone in the vestibule before asking, ‘OK, what did you find out?’
Jill checked to make sure no one was in earshot. ‘Dominic wasn’t the only one with something to lose if Salvatore executed a new will before he died. John Borelli would have been disinherited too. And that man didn’t shed a single tear throughout the entire service. Even I cried during “Amazing Grace,” and I had never met Mr Borelli.’
Eric scanned the crowd for Nonni and found her holding up Francesca while they loaded the coffin into the hearse. ‘That’s because you have a big heart,’ he said. ‘I told you that John has been estranged from his family for years. He even legally changed his name from Borelli to Borell to sound more American. Of course, no one in his family acknowledges the name change.’
Jill pursed her lips. ‘OK, but losing one’s father usually softens the hardest of hearts. I’m checking into what Mr Borell was doing that day.’
‘As you wish, but my money’s on Dominic. That guy is bad news.’ Eric glanced up to see Nonni climb into the limo with Francesca. ‘Looks like my grandmother will remain with her friend. Let’s get out of here. I can check with Nonni later to make sure she has a way home.’
Jill shook her head. ‘Absolutely not! I want to keep my eye on Dominic and John. If you refuse to go to the cemetery, maybe I can ride with that charming Renaldo.’ She fluttered her eyelashes in parody.
‘Over my dead body.’ Eric took hold of her hand. ‘Come on, I need to pull my car into queue.’
Approximately half of the mourners from church attended the graveside final prayers. Eric managed to stay out of sight in the back, while Jill surreptitiously spied on the brothers from behind a tree. As Jill had concluded earlier, only Renny seemed genuinely saddened by his father’s passing. He mopped his face several times with a handkerchief. Just when Eric thought they would escape unscathed, the funeral director circulated through the crowd passing out long-stemmed yellow roses.
‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ Jill asked, rejoining his side.
‘Guests place the rose atop the casket just before it’s lowered into the ground. But we can give ours away and leave after the last prayer.’
‘Oh, Eric, this is my first funeral. Can’t we stay until the end?’
Looking into Jill’s honey-brown eyes, Eric realized this was the first of many times he wouldn’t be able to say no to her. ‘Fine, but don’t make eye contact with any of the brothers.’
‘Will do.’ Sh
e plucked the rose from Eric’s fingers. ‘I’ll take yours up too when the time is right.’
Jill waited until most mourners had placed their flower and headed for their cars. Then she picked a way between the graves up to the dais and small circle of family members. Whether it was because Jill was unaccustomed to walking in high heels, or due to her short dress, or maybe she simply tripped on the green carpet, she went flying toward the rose-covered casket.
If not for Renny’s quick reaction, Jill might have fallen into the gaping hole, providing a memory no one would forget. Renny caught Jill in his arms and lifted her safely back from harm’s way.
Eric wasted no time reaching Jill’s side. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, just a little embarrassed.’ Her cheeks blushed brightly. ‘Thank you, Renny.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ll take care of those flowers.’ Renny made sure Eric had taken hold of Jill before placing the two roses on the coffin.
But Renny’s civilized behavior didn’t sit well with the youngest brother. ‘Why are you still here, Manfredi?’ Without warning, Dominic wound up his arm and socked Eric on the jaw.
Eric stumbled back and tumbled over a grave marker. Jill gasped. One of the Borelli aunts shrieked. And someone in the back started to cry. Unfortunately, the spectacle was by no means over. John intervened and received a left cut to the nose from Dominic, which didn’t sit well with the peacemaker, Renny. Soon a mini brawl ensued as several cousins joined the fray. With so many mourners already in their vehicles it took several minutes before a few level-headed uncles and one cop restored order to the sacred ground.
‘Detective Schott, what are you doing here?’ Jill asked once the combatants had been separated.
‘What are you doing here, Miss Wyatt?’ Schott took Jill by the arm and dragged her away from the gravesite. Eric had no choice but to follow them.
‘I’m trying to figure out who killed Mr Borelli,’ she said in a hushed voice.
‘That’s not how it looked to me.’ The cop’s glare landed on the hem of Jill’s dress.
‘She had to borrow an outfit from my sister.’ Eric felt compelled to defend her.
‘Fine, but you need to learn subtle, unobtrusive surveillance.’
‘You’re right.’ Jill covered her face with her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Eric. But at least Dominic Borelli showed his hot temper. With so much to lose with the new will, Dom must be one of your suspects now.’ Jill peered up at the detective.
Schott sighed. ‘He might be if he wasn’t at alcohol rehab during the time someone shot Salvatore. When Dominic found out his dad was dead, he signed himself out. So he’s been ruled out as a suspect. Trust me to do my job, Miss Wyatt. And I suggest you both stay away from the funeral luncheon. For some reason Dominic hates Eric, and thanks to the brawl, Dominic now knows you’ve been helping me, Jill. Or whatever it is you’re doing.’
After the cop stomped off, Jill and Eric took their time getting back to their car. They had run into enough Borelli relatives for one day. When they climbed into his SUV, Nonni was sitting where she had been this morning.
‘You two done causing trouble?’ she asked.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Jill turned the key to start the air-conditioning.
Eric locked gazes with Nonni in the rearview mirror. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t stay with Francesca for the rest of the day.’
‘Nope, I had planned to but changed my mind. I need a nap after all that excitement. What did you think about Renaldo Borelli?’ Nonni asked, tapping Jill on the shoulder.
‘He seems like a nice enough man, why?’ Jill cast a curious glance into the back seat.
‘I was wondering if you noticed those sea-blue eyes – rather striking against his olive complexion. The Borellis are from Florence, thus the high cheekbones and rather straight hair. Women are always throwing themselves at him.’
‘What are you up to, Granny?’ Eric chose a term he knew Nonni despised.
‘Nothing, my little field mouse. Just checking to see if Jill was paying attention.’
‘Actually, I was paying attention to potential murderers to get your son off the hook,’ said Jill. ‘Unfortunately my favorite suspect, Dominic, has been crossed off my list.’
‘Bad apple, that one,’ Nonni concluded. ‘Renny got the good looks, the smarts, and the charm in that family.’
Tightening his grip on the wheel, Eric trounced down on the gas pedal. None of them spoke for the rest of the drive. Once inside Bella Trattoria, Nonni shuffled off to her bedroom, but Jill remained in the kitchen.
‘I really am sorry, Eric. I made things worse.’
‘No, you didn’t. Dominic did. It’s not your fault you tripped on uneven ground.’
Jill closed her eyes, as though trying to force away the mental image of her inglorious near-fall. ‘I promise to make this up to you by finding the real killer.’
‘I know you will, but as long as you haven’t fallen in love with that blue-eyed Lothario, I’m happy.’
‘Only an idiot kisses someone’s fingers. Renaldo had no clue when I last washed my hands.’ Jill headed for the steps but hesitated. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, Manfredi.’
‘You know, my pappardelle Bolognese runs circles around Renny’s.’
‘I have no clue what that is, but someday I hope to find out. Right now I need to call my client, David Sugarman, and then my boss. Nate Price sent me a text that you called the office and discussed terms with him. I’m officially on the case.’
‘Will I see you later?’ Eric tried not to sound too hopeful.
‘Probably not. If I don’t drive to the hospital to visit Charlotte and Emma, I’ll need to catch up with emails and paperwork. I also need to wash this dress and give it back to your sister. See you domani.’
‘Look at you – learning Italian during your free time.’
Eric watched Jill disappear around the corner, feeling he might have a chance with her after all. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
EIGHTEEN
Jill had an entire day stretching before her without a clue what to do. Both David Sugarman and Ralph Norris told her their wives were in a stable condition, but no visitors would be permitted other than immediate family. It would be several days before either woman was out of the woods, and for Charlotte, a disastrous setback could happen at any time. But they had survived the long, intense surgery and for that Jill was grateful.
Nate had mixed feelings about her lining up another case on her own. Apparently Beth, her mentor-turned-mother-hen didn’t trust the tall, dark, and dangerous landlord. At least that’s how Beth had described him to Nate. However, since Nate had no other immediate cases lined up, and Eric Manfredi wired Price Investigations a healthy advance, Jill could stay on his father’s case for now.
‘Just don’t get too personally involved with the client,’ had been her boss’s parting words on the subject. Jill wasn’t sure if that stemmed from office policy, or from Beth’s overly suspicious intuition.
When Eric and his grandmother left for Mass, Jill searched Google for Protestant churches close to the restaurant and chose First Scots Presbyterian on Meeting Street. Perhaps it was to honor her adopted ancestry. Or maybe it was simply because she still would be able to make the eleven fifteen service after breakfast and a hot shower. The long walk there and back felt good after being cooped up, except for their brief time in the cemetery. The cemetery … the less she thought about yesterday’s brawl the better. Jill had just finished heating her lunch when Eric and Nonni returned from church.
‘Hi, Jill, ready to eat?’ Eric greeted. ‘I left a pot of pasta e fagioli simmering on the stove. It should be done by now.’
‘I’m having the leftover fish from Friday’s dinner.’ She held up Bernie’s plastic container. Eric looked at her in disdain. ‘All right, I’ll have a small bowl,’ she said.
Just as Jill sat down at the family table with her fish, a man pushing a handcart walked into the kitchen. With w
ine cases stacked to his chin, there was no doubt as to what he sold.
‘Hi, Mr Manfredi. Shall I take these down to the cellar?’
Eric stopped stirring his soup. ‘Hi, John. Why on earth are you delivering on a Sunday?’
‘My office said you called about restocking the cellar. I brought four cases of your best-sellers.’ The wine salesman carefully set his load upright. ‘Your remodeling is coming along nicely.’
‘Yes, but we’re not reopening for another two weeks. There wasn’t any hurry.’
‘Sorry, I’ve been out sick for a while, so I’m trying to get my route caught up. Should I come back another day?’ John’s expression revealed he hoped he wouldn’t have to.
‘No, no, you’re here now, but I won’t be able to inventory until tomorrow.’ Eric glanced over at her. ‘John, this is Miss Wyatt. Jill, this is John Russo. Why don’t you sit down and have some soup while I write your check?’ Eric ladled up two bowls, delivered them to the table, and headed off with the salesman’s invoice.
‘Thanks, Mr Manfredi, don’t mind if I do.’ John immediately plopped down on Jill’s left. ‘Hi, I’m from R & H Distributors,’ he said, inhaling the pungent aroma. ‘Ahh, pasta e fagioli, one of my favorites!’
‘Jill Wyatt,’ she said. ‘What exactly is in this? It looks like chili.’
John held a spoonful to his lips and blew on it with near reverence. ‘So much better than chili. It’s ground beef, diced tomatoes, white beans, red beans, small elbow macaroni, and of course plenty of garlic.’
‘Of course.’ Jill contentedly ate her salmon while the soup cooled.
‘Delizioso!’ he declared after swallowing the first spoonful. ‘You’re a new face. What do you sell? Boy, if only all restaurant owners were as good to vendors as the Manfredis, eh?’
Jill wiped her mouth, while considering how much to reveal. ‘I’m a guest of the Manfredis, not a salesperson.’
‘Is that right?’ John arched an eyebrow. ‘Good for you. I tried fixing my daughter up with Eric, but it didn’t work out. I was so disappointed.’
