J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 05 - Season for Murder

by J. M. Griffin

  Curious, I asked, “What was said about her?”

  “There was an incident when one of the older ladies whacked Iva with her cane while yelling profanities at her. There were center workers in attendance at that time and they brought the assault to an end.” Mom tossed the mail onto the desk and continued. “Mrs. Culligan, a woman who helps me out, said Iva had taunted the old lady more than once. Iva insinuated that she had a secret, and would tell the woman’s daughter. That kind of thing is extremely upsetting to the elderly.”

  I nodded. Unable to find anything of worth in the cabinet, I turned to the magazine rack on the floor. Iva owned lovely antiques even if they were grimy and fingerprint-smeared.

  We all met back in the tiny entryway and whispered our findings to one another. It was as though we’d entered a 1940s film noir, where there was a mystery with no foundation to it.

  A smile teetered on the edge of my lips until I broke out into a full grin. The comedic scene we presented tickled my sense of humor. Mom glanced at me with narrowed eyes. I checked my grin with the same suddenness as it had appeared.

  “If we have to, we’ll come back again and toss the place real good,” I announced, and watched my mother stuff the journal inside her handbag as we left Iva’s apartment. Hmm …

  In the corridor, the elevator started to open. We scrambled toward the stairs. The elevator dinged and another resident from an apartment hobbled out. I glanced back and caught the stairway door as it swung closed, in case it clanged in place.

  “Whew, that was close.” Mr. Perkins leaned against the wall and wiped his brow.

  “It sure was,” I agreed. “Please don’t go into that apartment again,” I pleaded to everyone standing on the stairs.

  “Would you like the key?” Mr. Perkins asked me, his eyes lit like a Christmas tree.

  Another smile covered his face, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the engaging old fellow. My hand extended flat, palm up toward him, he laid the key in the center and winked at me.

  “You’ll let me know if I can be of service again, eh, missy?” he asked.

  “I sure will, Mr. Perkins. Thank you for your help.”

  “You can call me Gabe,” he said with a smile.

  “That’s a fine name, and thank you, Gabe.” I shook his withered hand in a conspiratorial manner.

  The three of them left the stairwell heading out the side door as the front door opened. Standing still, I glanced through the narrow window of the interior door. I watched Mrs. Galumpky urgently punch the elevator button several times. She must have just missed Muffy, my mother, and Gabe as they left the building. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  The four of us scrambled down the outside steps of the apartment complex. How we didn’t topple over one another, I couldn’t say. Mr. Perkins nearly lost his balance. I grabbed his arm, and brought him upright. He breathed hard from the exertion of racing. Muffy and Mom fled to the car park. I turned to Gabe and thanked him again before I left.

  Mom pulled out of the lot and hit the street at a reckless speed. Everyone wondered where I got my driving habits. I smiled as I watched her take off. Muffy drove off in the opposite direction. Shaking my head, I started my car and drove toward my parents’ street.

  This neighborhood was an old one. I’d grown up around the aged Victorian homes along Cranston Street, and in an area where smaller homes filled tiny lots. The Victorian homes now held doctors’ and attorneys’ offices. I glanced at them as I passed by, wondering if one of those attorneys now represented my mother and me.

  As I crossed into Cranston, I swung into familiar surroundings and rolled toward my mother’s house. The two cars parked in the driveway belonged to my parents. I pulled up just behind them. Another vehicle sat at the curb. I wondered whose it was.

  As always, I entered through the kitchen door. Three pairs of eyes gawked at me. My mother and father turned back to the stranger. Dad introduced the man as the attorney on retainer. I nodded when the man stood to shake my hand.

  “Muffy won’t be here, huh?” I asked my mother after the introduction was complete.

  “She went home,” Mom said with a silent plea in her eyes.

  Apparently, my mother didn’t want my father to know what she’d been up to. Far be it from me to squeal. I nodded and took a seat at the table.

  Attorney Aldo Casali’s dark, beady eyes wandered over my height and breadth, stopping at my breasts, and moving on down my legs, toward my feet. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn he licked his lips, when his tongue darted from his mouth, and he swallowed. How gross was that? I wondered.

  With a raised brow, I glanced at my father. He grimaced, and motioned to an empty chair. In a few seconds, I’d settled at the table, as far from the lawyer as possible. Skeptical, my gaze swept the three faces.

  “Ms. Esposito, I’ve been hired to represent you and your mother. My experience in murder trials is extensive. Please rest assured I’ll do my utmost to see that you both get a fair trial.”

  “Fair trial, my ass,” I snapped with a snort. “I think you’re jumping to conclusions, Mr. Casali. There won’t be a trial, so if that’s where you think this is headed, then you’re quite mistaken. So far, there’s no hard evidence to link either of us to the death of this woman.” I turned to my father. “You didn’t give this idiot any money, did you?”

  “The evidence is circumstantial, I admit,” Casali remarked, as his sleazy eyes roamed my upper torso once again. “We do need to be prepared for the worst, though.”

  “Yeah, right,” I snarked.

  My father stared at me for a moment. The signs of a head butting session covered his face. In a second or two, we would enter the ring, and only God knew who the victor would be.

  “Dad, you can’t think for one moment that we’ll end up in court?”

  My father swore in Italian and then said in English, “I’ve engaged Mr. Casali as a precaution, Lavinia. I know you’re about to begin your own investigation. You’ll undoubtedly prove you and your mother’s innocence. There’s no question in my mind.” He heaved an exasperated sigh, his hands waving as he spoke.

  “Poi dare la porta a questo scatto, Dad,” I retorted in Italian. “Spreca il suo temp, lei non puo` dire?” It made sense to me to tell my father to get rid of the jerk and realize he was wasting our time.

  “I’ll think about it, but I want you to investigate the allegations first. Lasciamo non `e frettolos, l’eh?”

  “Bene, Dad.” I agreed not to be hasty as my glance strayed to Mr. Casali. I stretched my hand out to shake his extended one.

  “It was good to meet you, Mr. Casali. We’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Esposito. It was a pleasure to meet you, as well. Maybe we could discuss the case over dinner sometime?” He smirked as he said it.

  “I doubt it,” I answered and walked away from the slime ball to check out the kettle on the stove. In a few seconds, I heard the door close behind the smarmy sleazebag.

  “Lavinia, your manners get worse and worse with each passing day,” my father said. “You spend too much time in the company of cops. I’ve warned you of this before. They have been a bad influence on you.”

  The heavy soup ladle next to the kettle rested in a stainless steel spoon bed. Lifting it, I stirred the chicken soup, and leaned in to inhale the marvelous, mouth-watering aroma of it. My taste buds stood at attention. I turned to my father with a wide smile.

  “Can I have some soup to take home?” Ignoring the cop comment, I waited for him to agree to my request.

  “Yes, you can. I’ll get a container for you, just wait a minute.” He rummaged under the counter for a large glass jar.

  As he filled the jar with soup, I turned to my mother and recapped my conversation with Gianna and Angela. When I mentioned that she might take on some of the chores at the shop, her face glowed with pleasure. She rose from the chair to hug me, planting a kiss on my cheek.

  “Dear, I know you’re looking out for me. I
really appreciate it. Don’t feel as though you have to offer me a job, though. I’ll be fine.” Mom smiled. “After all, I am the Bake Sale Queen and there’s another bake sale scheduled for this Saturday at the center, to benefit the residents. I promised to make enough money for them to attend bingo at the Casino.”

  “That’s wonderful, but frankly, I could use the help at the shop. The girls are working seven days a week and they’re exhausted. You don’t have to go in every day, but it would be nice if you could go in a couple of days a week to help them out and do the accounts. You know I’m math challenged. I have difficulty balancing my own checkbook, let alone the store’s books.” I smiled and grasped her hand. “Please say you’ll help me out with this. I promise to help with your bake sale.”

  Her face lit up like the living room Christmas tree. I chuckled when she nodded in agreement. Her eyes took on a sparkle as she rose and opened the old aluminum-covered cake keeper, revealing a scrumptious-looking chocolate cake. With a huge knife, my mother sliced through the center of the chocolate delight. As she lifted half the cake onto a plate to wrap it, I glanced up to see my father’s gaze upon me. He nodded and bagged the container of soup along with half-a-loaf of crusty Italian bread.

  After we had made arrangements for the bake sale and my mother’s shop hours, I left the house laden with supper and dessert. It sat on the floor of the car as I headed home.

  I rang the shop and explained to Angela that my mother would be in to give them a hand. Her smile came across in her voice. She mumbled something to Gianna, and I heard excited babbling in the background.

  With a smile I hung up, figuring something had gone right for a change.

  Chapter 7

  The cell phone in my pocket jingled the Christmas tune I’d programmed into it. I pulled to the side of the road and answered the call.

  “Hello, Vinnie speaking.”

  “Lavinia, it’sa Nonni. I need you to come see me. I wanta to speaka to you for a minute.” Nonni’s Italian accent wasn’t real thick today, but unmistakable all the same.

  Nonni had come to America from Italy when she was very young. Her parents had spoken fluent Italian at home, and it was Nonni’s first language. She’d been in America for a million years it seemed, but had never lost the accent entirely. I loved her dearly and feared her more than any street thug. When she summoned, nobody, not even my father, refused.

  “As a matter of fact, I’m on my way home from Mom’s and can swing by now, if you’d like.” I could have been in Guam and would have made the trip to her house, no matter what.

  “That’sa good. I’ll have something for you to eat when you get here. I know you don’t eat right,” Nonni said and hung up.

  My nerves tightened a bit over the summons. Why would Nonni want to see me in private? What was the problem? I knew she and my aunt Lena had recently returned from a cruise. Aunt Lena had been married to my late uncle Nate, the ultimate cat burglar. Could this have something to do with Aunt Lena? I hoped not, since I’d had all of Aunt Lena’s problems with the FBI that I could handle. And besides, Aaron wasn’t around to save my sorry ass if I got in trouble.

  A sigh escaped me as I turned down Greene Street and parked in front of her four-room bungalow. The house was sweet and Nonni meticulously cared for the plants that grew in abundance during the warm weather. A tall plastic snowman lit up the front yard like the New York City skyline. I stared aghast at the spectacle, wondering who the heck had decorated the house for her.

  In the wide doorway, my grandmother stood awaiting me. I smiled and climbed the three steps to the porch. She pushed the storm door open and stepped back for me to enter. I slipped my boots off after I walked in.

  A kiss to her cheek and a hug to her squared shoulders, I stepped past Nonni into the warm house. A lovely Christmas tree stood in the bay window, its lights twinkling merrily. Handmade Italian glass ornaments hung from the branches along with tinsel. My grandmother didn’t believe in garland. She preferred long strands of tinsel. She saved it from year to year even though the cost of fresh tinsel was less than a dollar. It was an idiosyncrasy, to be sure.

  As I settled back on the overstuffed sofa, I watched the thin woman who’d been a fixture in my life forever. Her dark eyes held speculation as she stared at me. Then she headed into the kitchen and brought out a tray of food, two goblets, and a bottle of wine.

  Glancing at the oncoming tray, I wondered if she was about to feed me sandwiches similar to those that my aunt Lena had served. The same sandwiches Lena’s son, Angelo, had said were made with cat food filling. I gagged in silence thinking of those sandwiches.

  Instead of cat food sandwiches, steaming sausage calzones, cut into thick slices, layered the plate. Nonni poured wine and handed me the dish, so I could take a sandwich or two. Eager, I lifted two slices off the plate and placed them on my dish.

  Sweet red wine slid down my throat smooth as cream. I smacked my lips and started eating one of the calzone slices. Rich flavors of oregano, basil, and tomato sauce mingled with the robust tanginess of Italian sausage and Mozzarella cheese. Crusty baked dough surrounded the entire delight. I relished the savory taste. Could this be the last supper? I wondered as I glanced at Nonni.

  Seated across from me, Nonni nibbled a calzone, and sipped the wine. Her glance lingered on me as she set the plate aside. My stomach tightened, but I waited in silence for the matriarch of our family to speak her mind.

  “As you know, your mother has become embroiled in this un-a-fortunate incident. The old-a woman who died is known to me, Lavinia. Your mother does not realize this yet, but I think she will remember soon.” Nonni sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Mama mia, I don’t know how these things happen.” She rubbed the back of her wrist across her forehead before brushing a stray wisp of hair aside.

  The actions reminded me of a dramatic scene in a 1920s silent movie. The thought rolled through my head as I fought off a grin. If Nonni thought I saw humor in the situation, I’d be in big trouble. After all, I was on the fast track to hell, and I wasn’t about to push things further by laughing at Nonni.

  “Tell me about the woman, Nonni. If you know anything that will help me prove Mom is innocent of any wrongdoing, I’d appreciate it.” I sat back, the food forgotten.

  “This Iva woman and I went back many years.” She sneered a bit when thinking of Iva. “I hadn’t seen her in a long-a time until I accompanied your mother to the senior center to visit the old people.”

  Nonni was in her eighties and ‘old people’ was the bracket she fit into. I didn’t mention the fact since it would be detrimental to my health to do so. The idea of a wooden spoon swinging in my direction appeared in my mind.

  “Did you and Iva get along?” I asked while I twirled the stem of my wine glass. The deep burgundy liquid dipped and swirled in the glass.

  “At first we did, but as time went by, I saw her for what she really was. Things changed between us. I went my own way and-a so did she. When I met her at the old peoples’ place, I wondered if she’d changed. I guess not, since she’s dead.” Nonni shook her head with dismay. She lifted her hands, palms up, and shrugged her shoulders.

  Unbelievable as it might seem, I was speechless. My mouth twitched, but no words came to mind. Questions popped forth in droves, but I wanted Nonni to tell the story in her own way. I glanced at the clock on the side table. There was plenty of time before Marcus arrived at the house, so I leaned back and relaxed. As we sipped wine, Nonni placed her dish on the tray and leaned forward.

  “Iva was a nasty woman who hurt many people and enjoyed it. When we were young, she broke-a marriages, ended engagements, and she was a miserable bitch.” Her voice rose and her accent intensified. “It-a was-a a bad time when she came around. That-a nosy woman would get secrets and keep them-a until it served her purpose to use it against somebody.”

  “Keep them how?” I asked.

  “She’d steal private papers from homes. Secrets, like I said. Why she didn’t g
et whacked is a miracle only God could have-a handled.”

  “Mom mentioned she was sneaky and some of the other senior citizens said the same thing,” I said. “Are you sure she was the same person you knew in your youth?”

  “I’m-a sure of this, Lavinia.” Nonni nodded. “I wouldn’t make-a this mistake, believe me. She once took-a some papers from Gino Carochi’s private desk. She tried-a to sell them to the highest bidder. Somebody stole them back before she could get rid of them. They were returned, and no punishment was given for her poor choice. If it had-a been up to me, she’d have been whacked for it, but eh,” she shrugged, “whaddaya gonna do?”

  Whacked? Nonni wanted to whack someone? I was sure she didn’t mean whacking with a wooden spoon, but with something much deadlier. Good God, my Nonni, the Mafia Grandmother! This was totally unexpected, and I was left speechless.

  Sipping my wine, I watched Nonni smile, and listened as she continued to talk about Gino Carochi. He’d been a mobster on Federal Hill in the old days, she remembered. Her eyes took on a distant look and her face held a reminiscent smile. He’d been sweet on Nonni, and Iva had been jealous. When Nonni’s parents realized their daughter was involved with a mobster, they’d put a stop to the relationship. Iva had been hip deep in Nonni’s parents’ realization process.

  “When I met her at the center, she grinned, and treated me like an old friend. I smiled and said little, but watched her like-a the hawk. It didn’t take-a long for her to show signs of the woman who had ruined my love affair.”

  “What you’re saying here is that she was a sneak and a liar, right?” I refilled my glass and glanced again at the clock. There was still time to get home before Marcus arrived. Even so, I wanted to hear the rest of what Nonni had to say, whether I was late or not.

  “That’s-a right. She was the worst of the worst, Lavinia. Take-a my word for it.” Her dark eyes narrowed as she watched me.