Sleep came around two in the morning. I had spent most of the night tossing and turning while Monica’s words floated through my brain. The situation my mother found herself embroiled in caused a good amount of conflict in my head. My heart ached for her. She was a good and caring woman who wouldn’t harm anyone, let alone poison someone. Not even accidentally. With that consoling notion, I closed my eyes.
Chapter 4
Fumbling, I slapped the blaring alarm clock off the table. It kept up the incredible noise that I’d come to endure. Any wakening noise would be annoying, so it would do no good to have a different clock.
With one arm extended over the bedside, I felt around the floor in an effort to find the offensive time piece. In seconds, I’d found and clicked the off button. I flipped over onto my back and stared at the ceiling. After a matter of minutes, I managed to haul my still tired body upright in bed. The few hours of sleep hadn’t been enough. It was a certainty that by early afternoon I’d be cranky.
I flung the bedcovers back in a whoosh and tumbled from their warmth. Donning a heavy knit robe, I headed for the kitchen. The coffeemaker sat empty since I hadn’t set it up the night before. With a few mumbled words over my own stupidity, I set coffee to brew and went into the bathroom.
As the coffee perked, I showered, brushed my teeth, and blow-dried my wet mane of hair. Afterward, I poured coffee and drank it while I managed my thick mass of dark curls. My thoughts roamed over the winter wardrobe that filled the closet.
December is usually cold in Rhode Island and this year was no exception. My first few miles to work would be ridden in a cold car. The idea chilled me to the bone as I slipped out of my robe and into a red boucle turtle neck sweater, followed by a pair of black corduroy pants. I accessorized the outfit with a hand-dyed silk scarf. Thick socks warmed my feet. I zipped a pair of red Italian leather high-heeled boots over them.
After a glance in the mirror showed my lack of sleep, I brushed a touch of color across my pale features. I finished the whole affair with a swipe of mascara and a dab of lipstick.
Ready for class, I heaved the book bag, filled with graded papers, from the counter onto my shoulder. Rich steaming coffee laced with milk and sugar swished in the travel mug as I sauntered out the door.
The car motor, already running since I’d had a remote-starter installed, still wasn’t warm enough to throw any heat yet. Frost covered windows had merely begun to clear. I used a long armed scraper to clear away the thin ice coating.
Mumbling under my breath over the chilling wind and cold temperatures, I hurried into the car and rubbed my bare hands together. Not only did I choose to live in New England, but I chose to leave my gloves in my jacket pocket while I scraped frost from the windows. How smart is that?
Annoyed at my own lack of forethought, I backed from the driveway and started the trek across the state to the university. This semester, I was at the regular campus instead of the campus extension in Providence.
Travel lanes were packed with people bundled in heavy clothing. Everyone either talked on their cell phone or drank coffee as they jockeyed for space within the lines of vehicles proceeding toward the interstate highway. I joined the coffee sipping group and waited for a break in traffic to make some headway.
My cell phone played a merry tune as cars ahead of me slowed for the traffic light. I glanced around for my purse and dragged it onto my lap as I stopped my car behind the others. In a flash, I answered the summons.
“Lavinia, the attorney will see your mother and you this afternoon around three. Is that convenient?” Dad asked in his gruff voice.
Knowing he’d realized I might need representation, I confirmed that three would be fine.
He grunted and hung up before I had a chance to find out who he’d hired to handle the case for us. I worried over it for a few minutes until it became clear to me that no matter who it was, I’d be glad to have them. Unless this person was mob related, that is.
Doom and gloom huddled on my horizon as I traveled vehicle-packed roads toward the state highway connector to Interstate 95. Once I reached the interstate, I hit the gas pedal and took off at warp speed. Other drivers blew their horns as I sped through traffic to the 195 East highway entrance. Hand gestures showed displeasure. I waved, unconcerned that I’d just cut off three people. In Rhode Island traffic, it’s everyone for himself.
The new George Washington Bridge lay ahead of me. Heavy winds gusted across Narragansett Bay. Sweeping over bridge abutments, they buffeted the car as I sped along the high speed lane. As the university exit neared, I glanced in the rearview mirror before I crossed into the low speed lane to take the exit.
An approaching siren and flashing lights grew closer and closer. A gray state police cruiser drew close to my bumper. I could see the trooper gesture for me to pull over.
Glancing to the right, I pulled off the road into the breakdown lane near the exit and slid to a stop as the cruiser coasted to a stop behind me.
A tall, lean trooper, dressed in a heavy jacket, approached the car. He glanced at passing traffic while standing near the driver’s window as it descended. I stared upward, expecting Marcus to give me a lecture on speeding. Instead of Marcus, this trooper asked for my license, registration, and insurance card. He was very polite as he explained that I’d broken about ten laws when I’d flown across the highway over the bridge.
“I’m sorry, Officer. I wasn’t aware that my driving was so bad. I’m headed to the university to teach and don’t wish to be late.” I smiled what I hoped was an engaging smile. “Do you think you could hurry this up?”
He smirked a bit and leisurely strolled back to his car. I saw the stiff brimmed campaign hat dip as he checked my papers. The cruisers are equipped with computers, which saves time. The trooper glanced at my car and then shook his head. Why? I didn’t have a clue.
It took him a few seconds to return and this time he had an inscrutable look on his face. My nerves tightened as I wondered if I was about to be arrested for those poor driving habits. Thoughts of a jail cell loomed large. There I was, jumping to conclusions.
“Ma’am, as much as it pains me, I’m going to give you a verbal warning. Try to slow down. Give yourself ample time to reach your future destinations, and please try not to endanger someone else.”
“Sure, thanks. I appreciate this. Can I go now?”
He sighed and shook his head again. I wondered why.
“Is there something else?” I asked with a wide grin in hopes of charming the man.
“You date Marcus Richmond, don’t you?” he asked.
“Why yes, I do.”
“I’ve heard about you, and now I’ve seen for myself how reckless you are.” The trooper smirked again and said, “You’re one dangerous woman. Are you aware of that?”
“Who said I was a dangerous woman? Did Marcus say that?” I demanded. “He does say I drive him nuts, but I never thought he’d say I was dangerous.”
Wariness entered the eyes of the self-assured state trooper standing before me. He wasn’t about to sandbag himself by admitting Marcus had made such a remark.
“It’s just an observation, ma’am. A comment, if you will,” he murmured.
“If Marcus said that, he’s wrong. You guys aren’t always right, you know,” I blustered. “You might think so, but it’s just not true. Nobody is perfect or right all the time.”
The hat dipped again and a smile broke across his features as he stared at me.
“You’d better leave before I change my mind and hand you a violation. Have a good day, Ms. Esposito.” He nodded to me, and strode back to his vehicle.
Aggravated, but somewhat relieved, I swung from the shoulder onto the road and joined the traffic in front of me. The university grounds came into view. In minutes, I’d parked the car and hotfooted my way to the classroom. My attitude hadn’t improved at all, and I was cranky as hell.
Plopping the school bag onto the desk, I swept my hair away from my face, threw my ja
cket over the back of a chair, and straightened my clothes. Now, I was ready to teach the class.
Coffees in hand, students straggled in, and took their seats. It was an informal class, where the Five O’s and the wannabe’s mingled, insulted one another, and joked around. It was sort of a kindergarten atmosphere.
Within a matter of minutes, the group was assembled. I passed graded papers back with the grades marked in red. Some had notes written on them, some had nothing but a letter grade. The notes were for the students graded on a curve. I glanced around the room as everyone checked their papers.
One student, Melissa Rutledge, raised a hand. She’d been the sharpest of the lot this semester and had even beaten out Porter Anderson, my usual star student. I nodded toward her and asked what she wanted.
“Ms. Esposito, I have a question concerning the death of the woman at a senior center yesterday. The case appears to be one of murder. How do you think it will be handled by the Providence Police?”
Stomach butterflies took flight as I wondered if she knew my mother and I were involved in the matter. Running my hand through my hair, I tossed it off my shoulder. A glance around the room showed I had the attention of all the students. Porter Anderson peered at me with keen, narrowed eyes.
Shit, I thought. I’d done the hair thing, a gesture indicating my anxiety. Since he’d known me for some time, Porter was the only one in the class who realized it.
“I’m not sure how the detectives will handle the investigation. I heard there isn’t much to go on at this juncture. Surely every possible lead will be followed to find out what happened to the victim.”
It was a political two-step answer, one that would assuredly come from a politician. Melissa’s unhappiness with it lay reflected on her face. Her mouth opened, but Porter interrupted with a comment.
“Ms. Esposito couldn’t have enough information to give you an answer, Melissa,” he replied. “PPD detectives are looking into all of the people who had contact with the victim. She was an elderly woman who lived in the building attached to the senior center, right, Ms. Esposito?”
“Yes. According to the news, she died of poisoning. That is where the medical examiner’s team will start building their case. The type of poison used will be identified. How it was administered will be established, and then a determination will be made if the deceased was the target, or if someone else was the intended victim.”
Talk broke out amongst the cops and security people as to how the investigation should be run. In silence, I listened to the ideas put forth and mentally tucked some of them away for later reference. I would need all the help I could get to prove my mother’s innocence.
Within the hour, things died down, and I gave the class a break by dismissing them early. They were told to write a brief excerpt on how they felt the investigation would proceed and bring it to the next class. Striding from the room in high spirits and discussing possibilities, only Porter remained behind. I glanced at him and turned away to pack my valise.
“You’re involved in this, am I right?” Porter asked in a low tone.
“While I wish I wasn’t, yes, I am. My mother and I were there when it happened. As a matter of fact, the victim nearly mowed me down with her walker in her haste to reach the very fruitcake that poisoned her.”
He chuckled. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, honest to God, she sped across the room with that walker like a locomotive. If I hadn’t stepped aside, I’d have been trampled.” I paused, and thought for a second. “I had just stopped my mother from eating a slice of that same cake.” I turned to meet Porter’s gray eyes.
“You don’t think my mother was the intended victim, do you?” I asked, aghast at the thought.
“Was the entire cake poisoned, or just a few pieces?”
“Jack Manera said only the pieces the woman imbibed were laced with a toxin they hadn’t identified yet.”
Porter knew Jack. They often worked together during ongoing investigations. Porter had an excellent reputation as a detective in the Providence Police Department, and had assisted me in the past.
“If there’s anything I can do to help with this, Vin, you know I will.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the offer.” I considered his offer as we lingered in the quiet room. “An information search on the department’s computer would help me. I think Mrs. Galumpky has something to hide.”
“What makes you think that?” he asked with an arched brow and a smirk.
My intuition often runs rampant, but for the most part it was right on track. Porter was well aware of that fact. He’d been of use before when I needed a hand, and no one else would listen, so I smiled and said, “She was quick to cast suspicion on my mother. Too quick, if you get my drift?”
“It does make one curious, doesn’t it?” he asked with a full-blown grin. “Not that you’d know anything about curiosity.”
“Indeed.”
“Get some basic information on the woman,” Porter advised. “I’ll do what I can. Bellini will be all over this. You know that, don’t you?” He stood and stretched.
“Bellini is a hell of a detective sergeant, and I respect him, but my mother will not go down for this woman’s death if I can help it.”
“Got it,” was all he said as we left the classroom.
We parted in the parking lot. I headed toward South Main Street in Providence to check on the gift shop I’d inherited from Aunt Livvy. Shoppers were spending money like crazy this holiday season even though the economy was in the pits. I wanted to make sure I got as much of that money as possible, so the shop continued to prosper.
Hustling through the traffic filled four lanes, I took the South Main exit. Double-parked cars narrowed the street. Providence Police Department Meter Mollies wrote violation tickets, and tucked them under the windshields of offending cars, as I sought a parking spot.
I smiled at the reception these women got when drivers barreled from shops to explain why they’d parked wrongly in the first place. The Mollies were a thick-skinned bunch with radios attached to the shoulders of their jackets. When someone gave them difficulties, they called in the cops to handle the situation.
Slowly, I passed the shop and noticed a rare and empty parking spot. I swung the car into the gap between an SUV and a Mercedes before I shut the engine down. How lucky was I? Parking in Providence is a premium. I tossed a couple of quarters into the meter and headed down the street toward my shop.
Chapter 5
Adorned with tiny, twinkling lights, festive shop windows held sparkling crystal ornaments, glitter-covered packages, and tasteful ads for sales. They silently beckoned as I walked past them, and the restaurants, on the way to Conclavia. This, the first of three shops Aunt Livvy had opened, was the one shop she’d favored the most. Her flair for unique merchandise had been well known among the clientele.
Since Livvy had passed on, the shop had lost some customers. Though, with help, I’d managed to purchase goods from the same companies Livvy had dealt with. Restocking the shop with eclectic merchandise brought many of the wandering clients back, rekindling sales.
Though the stolen gem incident had involved the shop after I’d inherited it, I’d hired two new women to handle sales and customers. The original sales women, who’d operated the shop for Livvy, had been arrested for their parts in gem trafficking in conjunction with my two loser cousins, Frankie and Kenny.
It had taken some doing, but since then I’d watched the shop like a hawk. Keeping my finger on the pulse of the business was as important to me now as disproving my mother’s guilt.
I considered asking my mother to help oversee the shop, instead of donating so much of her time to the senior center. She’d done my father’s accounts for his pizza restaurant for years. When Dad retired, Mom had seemed at a loss. With all that time on her hands, she baked, made chocolates, and gave every moment she could to the senior citizens at the center.
While I mulled over the prospect, I entered the shop�
��s winter wonderland atmosphere. Victorian and hand-blown glass ornaments covered a white tree. Birds, laden with glitter, perched on branches. Flakes of artificial snow covered the tree skirt, and gold ribbons entwined within princess pine swags were strategically placed throughout the store. The overall effect brought a festive spirit to the shop, and a smile to my face.
The two clerks, Angela and Gianna, were smartly dressed in business attire with festive scarves draped around their necks. I grinned at the high-spirited women and asked how things were going.
The shop was doing well, they said in unison and then burst into laughter. I smiled again, glancing into the adjacent room full of merchandise. The shop consisted of two large rooms that stretched from the front to the rear of the building. A small storage closet was tucked into a narrow corridor in between the rooms, and out of sight of the customers.
Specialty cards depicting ornate, three-dimensional designs adorned the racks, along with a variety of other festive cards decorated with colorful glitter. The second room was filled to the brim with offbeat, high-end clothing, specialty books, imported perfume, French scarves, and Italian leather goods. I could smell the rich leather and ran my fingers over the buttery soft material.
A dainty Staffordshire tea set lay on a table draped with sheer metallic trimmed gauze fabric. Next to the teapot, a small antique book lay open, as though someone had sat there enjoying tea and a good read.
Angela Minestroni accompanied me through the shop. She verbally speculated over the best sellers, thus far into the season, and what had recently been replenished. The woman knew the merchandising business well, and while I didn’t pay her an exaggerated salary, Angela earned a healthy paycheck for her experience. At five foot six, the sleek-bodied woman, with a high-cheek-boned, aristocratic face, was sophisticated. Dark, burnt umber hair lay neatly pulled back in a clip at the nape of her slender neck. With the qualities of an Italian noblewoman, Angela pointed out several items that were not selling. Her dark eyes twinkled, as the tilt of her wide smile showed perfect white teeth when she spoke.
J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 05 - Season for Murder Page 4
