by Mary Ellis
‘Yes, Miss Jill Wyatt to see Mrs Sofia Borelli.’
‘Could you repeat that please?’
Jill did so. After a short pause, the gate swung open and she drove through the main entrance of the Borelli palace. With pillars and porticoes, extensive horticulture and marble fountains, the front was no less extravagant than the pool and garden area. She parked the Toyota, which suddenly looked more rusted than before, and knocked on the massive door.
Much to her shock, Renaldo Borelli, wearing nothing but an incredible tan and a bath towel, opened the door. ‘Miss Wyatt, what a lovely surprise.’
Red-faced, Jill pointed with her index finger. ‘Did you just get out of the shower?’
‘Of course not. I have on swim trunks. I was headed to the pool.’ He dropped the towel, revealing baggy trunks that reached his knees.
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she murmured, feeling rather foolish.
‘Please come in. Since you’re unfortunately not here to see me, I’ll take you to my grandmother’s suite.’ He picked up the towel and re-wrapped it around his waist.
‘Thanks, Renny, but I’m here to see Miss Sofia not Miss Francesca.’
He tilted his head to one side. ‘But my mother said she doesn’t know you.’
Jill gazed into those sea-blue eyes. ‘She doesn’t. But if she could spare a few minutes of her time, I would be so grateful.’
‘Absolutely, she’s in my father’s study. Follow me.’
Renny led her through the largest living room, dining room, and kitchen Jill had ever seen and then turned down a hallway. They passed bedroom after bedroom, each more beautiful than the last. Finally he pushed open the last door on the right. ‘Mom, Miss Wyatt is here to see you.’ To Jill, he said, ‘If you have some extra time this afternoon, join me out at the pool. There are dozens of swimsuits in the cabana. I’m sure we can find something that fits.’ He winked, grinned, and sauntered away.
But Jill had no time to think about Casanova. Mrs Borelli was staring daggers at her from behind the massive teak desk. ‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, Miss Wyatt. Although I do remember you making a spectacle of yourself at my husband’s grave.’
‘I’m so sorry about that, ma’am. I caught my heel on the green carpet and if not for Renaldo, the end result could have been much worse. May I sit?’ Without waiting for a reply, Jill sat.
‘Renny, yes …’ Sofia dragged the word out into several syllables, but at least her expression improved from pure hatred. ‘What that boy sees in women with no meat on their bones is beyond me.’
With bigger fish to fry, Jill let the rude comment slide and laid her business card on the desk. ‘I’ve been hired, ma’am, to investigate your husband’s death. Would you be so kind as to answer a few questions?’
One or two creases deepened in her forehead. ‘Charleston PD is investigating his murder. They already have the killer, as far as I’m concerned – Alfonzo Manfredi. Who is paying you to investigate?’
‘The Manfredi family. Alfonzo has no motive to kill your husband.’
‘Other than the fact they’ve hated each other for years?’
‘I haven’t been around for years, but I would say it was more a case of Salvatore hating Alfonzo.’
Sofia folded her hands in front of her, her nails similar to a hawk’s talons. ‘What difference does it make? Ask your questions, Miss Wyatt, and then get out of here. I have checks to write. Sal left me with a pile of bills.’
‘Is it true that you and Salvatore were getting a divorce?’ Jill asked, pen poised above her notebook.
Sofia’s lips thinned. ‘No, it’s not true. We had difficulties once, but neither of us followed through.’
Jill leaned forward in the chair and threw out a fishing line. ‘Because my theory is if you did threaten him with divorce, Sal might have taken his own life after his fight with Alfonzo. Life simply got too much for him to bear. But Alfonzo had followed him from the restaurant. When he found Sal dead, he picked up the gun and threw it down the sewer because he didn’t want to be implicated.’
At first Sofia just smiled and then she laughed with abandon. ‘Oh, my. It’s a good thing you’re pretty, because you’re a terrible investigator. Perhaps you can stop at the mall and put in a few applications.’
Jill pretended to have bruised feelings. ‘It’s possible to shoot yourself in the face. I practiced with a water pistol.’
Sofia shrugged. ‘It probably is possible, but I can assure you Sal didn’t kill himself. He was already dying.’
Jill didn’t have to fake her surprise. ‘From what, ma’am? If you don’t mind my asking.’
Another shrug. ‘He was dying from heart failure. Sal had been taking medication for it for years. Of course, he was told to keep a strict diet – give up red meat, butter, cheese, pastries, and that bottle of red wine he drank every night.’ Sofia’s voice rose in intensity. ‘But did he listen? No, he did not!’
‘That’s just awful.’ Jill wrung her hands in her lap. ‘I know you did your best.’
‘There’s only so much a wife can do when married to a stubborn bull like Salvatore.’ One small tear glistened in her eye.
‘I’d say Sal taking his own life makes even more sense. Consider this just for a moment, Mrs Borelli.’ Jill held up one finger. ‘Your husband knew his time on earth was limited.’ She held up a second finger. ‘He feared losing you and just had another fight with an old friend, Alfonzo. Plus if he couldn’t enjoy his favorite foods along with his beloved wine, he decided life was no longer worth living. Those three reasons make a lot more sense than Alfonzo killing him.’ Jill crossed her legs with a smug grin.
‘You certainly are stuck in a rut! I’m telling you, Miss Wyatt, Sal wouldn’t have killed himself, because that would have voided his life insurance policy. And no man wants his wife stuck with lots of bills with no money to pay them.’ Her hand flourished over the papers.
‘I see what you mean,’ Jill said.
‘Let this be a lesson, young lady. Someday you will marry and have a husband to care for, but a wife must always think about herself too.’ Sofia leaned back in the chair, her expression serene.
‘There are so many things a wife has to consider,’ Jill mused. ‘Many Catholic couples will put up with unhappy marriages, because they don’t want to get kicked out of the church. But I understand the church has relaxed its rules on divorce.’
Sofia’s serenity faded a tad.
‘That might prompt an unhappy husband to file for divorce and then the wife might not get to spend so much money at the mall any more.’
‘Where is all this coming from?’
‘Then if that wife realizes after forty years her husband was still in love with another woman?’ Jill’s tone turned sugar-sweet.
‘How do you know that?’ Sofia demanded.
‘Oh, a little bird told me.’
‘My charming mother-in-law. That woman never learned the meaning of “mind your own business.”’
‘Then if that wife discovered Salvatore had an appointment to change his will the very next day … Tuscan Gardens would have been left to Renaldo, his favorite, and the only son who cared about the restaurant. John, and your personal favorite, Dominic, would have been cut out entirely.’ Jill stopped masking her contempt. ‘Maybe, just maybe, Francesca didn’t want the business she and her husband started to be sold off to strangers. Maybe she knew Renny would run it well and – this is the good part – she didn’t want her charming daughter-in-law to get away with murder.’
Color flooded Sofia’s face so fast she looked like she might be having a heart attack. ‘Get out of my house and don’t come back,’ she screamed. ‘You have no proof of any of that.’
‘You’re right. I don’t. But the police lifted an extra print off Alfonzo’s gun that they haven’t been able to match. You’re not in the system, but I’d bet dollars-to-donuts they’ll be able to match that print to you – a person with far more motive to kill than Mr Manfredi.’<
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Sofia Borelli howled with rage, like the Wicked Witch when Dorothy threw water on her. But it was hard for Jill to enjoy the moment, because Dominic Borelli had crept up behind her and yanked her up out of the chair like a ragdoll.
‘You stupid little bimbo,’ he snarled. ‘You couldn’t be satisfied with making a scene at my father’s funeral.’
‘Wait a darn minute! You’re the one who made a scene, not me!’ Jill tried to shrug from his grasp but his fingers tightened like a vise.
‘That little bimbo said the police pulled another print from the gun. We’ve got to do something!’ Sofia screamed. ‘Or she will ruin everything!’
‘She’s bluffing. There’s no other print on that gun.’ Dominic dragged Jill toward the doorway as she fought like a tigress.
‘We can’t take that chance,’ Sofia demanded. ‘Nobody knows she’s here but your brother and Renny won’t say anything. For once in your life, Dom, do the right thing!’
‘It would be my pleasure, Ma.’ Suddenly both of Dominic’s hands closed around her throat.
Jill wanted to explain she wouldn’t make any trouble, but she couldn’t even draw a breath, let along argue with a mad man and his crazy mother.
‘Don’t mess this up, Dominic. Make sure she’s dead before you dump her in the swamp. And make sure you weigh down the body. We want the crabs to have a good meal.’
‘Stop worrying. I know just the spot. No one will ever find her skinny bones.’
Jill, however, wasn’t giving up without a fight. She struggled against Dominic, clawing at his hands with her fingernails. Now is when nails like Sofia’s would come in handy. She tried to stomp on his toe or bump against him with her backside. But Dominic withstood everything she threw at him as he dragged her into the hall. She had no time to think or even utter a prayer as the pressure on her throat increased and blackness crept in on all sides. The last thing Jill remembered was her knees going weak as she fell to the floor.
TWENTY-TWO
Eric whistled while he worked on his shopping list. Although his regular suppliers would stock the pantry, freezer, cooler, and cellar before the grand reopening, he wanted tonight’s dinner to be memorable. Nothing but the best ingredients would go into his pappardelle Bolognese, since Jill requested it specifically.
Jill. The woman was such an enigma – one that Eric was bound and determined to figure out.
Just as he completed his list, he heard the back door open. His grandmother sauntered into the room as though she had all the time in the world. ‘Hi, Nonni. Ready for tonight’s party?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be. Where’s Jill – is she hiding from you?’
‘No, we’re over that phase. She’s rather fond of me now. In fact, I’m on my way to get groceries. Before Jill left, she asked me to cook one of my specialties for dinner.’
Nonni crossed her arms. ‘Any idea where she is or how long she’ll be?’
‘Jill went to the medical center to visit her clients – the two sisters who are sharing one liver. Then she’s delivering treats to the Norris children. Is there anything you want before I head to the store?’ Eric grabbed his shopping list. ‘Jill should be back in a couple of hours.’
‘Maybe not, Enrique, because I don’t think she went to the hospital.’
Eric pivoted around. ‘Then where is she?’
Nonni slumped into a chair. ‘Jill came to see me. She wanted Francesca Borelli’s address, saying she needed to write a thank you. What kind of young person writes those? I gave her the address, but instead of going upstairs to write the note, Jill jumped in her car and left. I hope she doesn’t get mad at me for telling you.’
‘Thanks, Nonni, you did the right thing.’
His grandmother grabbed his sleeve. ‘What can I do? I want to help.’
Eric handed her his list. ‘Call a grocery store that delivers and order everything on this list. Make sure you order ground veal and not beef and don’t forget the ground pork. For all we know, this is a wild-goose chase and Jill will be expecting dinner tonight.’ He retrieved his gun from the storage room and headed toward the door.
‘What if she calls here? Where are you going?’
‘Kiawah Island. Please try to get Jill on the phone.’
Punching one of the speed-dial buttons, Nonni followed after him. ‘It’s going right to voicemail. Why would she go see Francesca?’
‘I might be overreacting, but I believe Jill went to question Salvatore’s widow. She thinks Sofia might be the murderer. We’ll talk more later.’ Eric jumped into his SUV, threw it into reverse, and trounced down on the accelerator. Next he punched in the number for Charleston PD and asked for Lieutenant Schott in Homicide.
‘I’ll see if he’s available,’ replied a bored dispatcher.
‘This is Eric Manfredi. Tell him this is an emergency.’
It took a little while, but Schott finally came on the line. ‘What’s the big emergency, Manfredi?’
Eric inhaled a breath and explained as succinctly as possible that he should go to the Borelli residence on Kiawah Island because Jill Wyatt was in grave danger. If he was wrong, he would take the heat for making a false report. But at least Jill would be safe.
‘I’m on Folly Island,’ said the detective. ‘But I’ll call central dispatch. They’ll send someone to the house immediately. I’ll get there as soon as I can.’ Schott hung up without demanding more details.
Folly Island – not an easy place to get to Kiawah from, even with lights and sirens on. Eric wove around two slow-moving cars as he punched in his grandmother’s number. ‘Have you gotten a hold of Jill yet?’ he asked without preamble.
‘No, but I left her three messages. Should I call the police?’
‘No, I already did that. Stay by the phone, Nonni.’ Eric hung up and concentrated on driving, ticking off miles at an agonizingly slow rate. Finally, when he arrived at their development’s security booth, the gate was open and the guard waved him through. Helpful to have friends on Charleston’s PD.
However when he stopped in front of the Borelli mansion, that gate was closed.
Eric parked his SUV sideways on the tree lawn, studied the fence around the perimeter, and considered his options. He knew he could get over the fence – height had its advantages. But what if Jill wasn’t inside? He would willingly pay a fine for trespassing or spend a few nights in jail. Eric climbed up as fast as he could, pulled himself to the top, and dropped to the ground on the other side. Scanning the area, he heard no blaring alarms and no motion-sensed lights illuminated the yard. Eric rang the doorbell twice, waited as patiently as he could, and rang the bell again. No one appeared to allow him inside the home of his family’s arch enemies.
With sweat beading on his brow, Eric tromped through the foliage around the house. Were overgrown bushes their idea of another layer of security? When he reached the pool area, Eric crouched behind a huge bougainvillea. From his vantage point, he spotted Renaldo swimming laps from one end to the other. He knew it was Renny, because Dominic could probably drown in a bathtub, let alone a swimming pool.
Eric waited until Renny made a smooth underwater turn and started toward the opposite side. Then he left his hiding spot and approached the French doors to the solarium. As expected when a family member was outdoors, the doors were unlocked. With the stealth of a cat burglar, Eric slipped into the house and hid behind an indoor plant.
Thank goodness the Borellis loved their fauna.
From his new vantage point, he watched Renny effortlessly swim lap after lap and heard … nothing. There wasn’t a sound from anywhere in the gaudy, over-decorated mansion. Then Eric heard the unmistakable screech of Sofia Borelli
‘For once in your life, Dominic, do the right thing.’
He didn’t care if Renaldo saw him or not. He bolted through the dining and living rooms in the direction of the voice. When he reached the entrance to a long corridor, Eric stopped to listen.
‘It would be my pleasure, Ma,’
said a male voice.
With horror, Eric watched as Dominic dragged a woman into the hallway. Then both of his hands closed around the woman’s throat.
The woman was Jill. Dom was trying to strangle the woman he loved.
‘Don’t mess this up,’ Sofia called from inside the room. ‘Make sure she’s dead before you dump her in the swamp. And make sure you weigh down the body. We want the crabs to have a good meal.’
As Jill fought to free herself, Eric crept down the hall, grabbing a metal sculpture from a pedestal along the way.
‘Stop worrying,’ sneered Dominic. ‘I know just the spot. No one will ever find her skinny bones.’
Her skinny bones? Those would be Dominic’s last words for a while. Because before the man knew what hit him, Eric raised the sculpture high in the air and smashed it down on Dominic’s head.
‘Jill, are you OK?’
A familiar voice broke through the fog, while a pair of strong hands dragged her to her feet. Jill tried opening her eyes but the light intensified the pain. Next she tried to ask what had happened, but not one sound issued from her throat. When she attempted to stand, her legs refused to cooperate.
‘Take it easy. You’ll be all right,’ said her mysterious rescuer. ‘The police are on their way.’ He swept her up in his arms and carried her down the hall.
From over his shoulder, Jill heard Sofia Borelli sobbing hysterically. ‘You killed my son.’
When Jill forced her eyes open a second time she recognized Eric Manfredi. ‘What are you doing here?’ she croaked in a harsh whisper.
‘Saving you, apparently.’ Eric deposited her unceremoniously on a silk sofa that must have cost ten grand.
‘Did you kill Dom?’
‘I don’t think so. But I did whack him over the head with an iron sculpture that Sofia called artwork.’
Jill rose up on her elbows and gazed around. Francesca Borelli was talking on the phone, Renny stood at the patio door, and in the distance she heard sirens.
‘What happened? What are you doing here, Manfredi?’ Renaldo spouted questions at a rapid-fire pace.
