by J. D. Griffo
“You’d better hurry,” Jinx said. “Nola is on the verge of having an emotional breakdown, and tardiness will put her over the edge. It’s a PTSD trigger for a schoolteacher.”
“I’m leaving right now,” Tambra said. “Who else is running late?”
“Luke,” Alberta replied. “We just saw him at the morgue. And we met the new medical examiner, Pedro, who seems very competent. I like him very much.”
“You only like him, Alfie, because he corroborated all your theories about Missy’s death,” Vinny said, entering the station behind the women.
Alberta stood in the doorway to Vinny’s office and turned to address her old friend. “Like I said, he’s a very competent man.”
A smile started to form on Vinny’s lips, but when he heard Tambra and the other officers begin to chuckle, his almost-grin turned into a definite glare. It put an end to any mirth. This was a place where serious business was to be conducted after all.
“Chief, okay if I still go to my nonrehearsal rehearsal now?” Tambra asked.
“Of course,” Vinny replied. “Get a good look at the cast members who allegedly don’t know about Missy’s death when Nola breaks the news to them.”
“You think they’re suspects?” Alberta asked.
“As far as we’re concerned, they’re all suspects,” Tambra replied. “I’ll keep a sharp eye on them, Chief, in case one of them gives themselves away.”
“Thanks,” Vinny said. “Our murderer could be a cast member.”
“Not Freddy,” Jinx said. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Or Helen or Father Sal,” Alberta added. “They might actually hurt a fly, but definitely not a person.”
“Benny’s harmless too,” Jinx said. “You can cross him off the suspect list.”
Tambra and Vinny exchanged amused glances. Maybe the business conducted at the station wasn’t always so serious. “Thanks, ladies,” Tambra replied. “You’ve whittled down the suspect list so it’s a bit more manageable.”
“You’re welcome, Tambra,” Alberta said. “We’re here to help.”
“It’s what we do,” Jinx added.
Smiling broadly, Tambra grabbed her purse, the bright yellow leather surprisingly working nicely with her navy-blue uniform, and started to leave. “They’re all yours, Chief.”
“So, Chief,” Alberta said. “What do you have to show us?”
Once the door to Vinny’s office closed behind them, the ladies’ attitudes changed. Alberta grew more relaxed because she was literally in the office of a dear old friend, a man she used to babysit. She threw her pocketbook on one of the sandy-brown faux leather chairs and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for Vinny to start the show-and-tell. Alternatively, Jinx stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her purse still hanging on her shoulder, her overall stance giving the impression of someone who was not at all relaxed. Her appearance wasn’t unfitting in the slightest because everyone in the room knew Vinny didn’t like Jinx nearly as much as he liked her grandmother. But everyone in the room also knew it was time for Tranquility to have its own detente.
“Jinx, are you all right?” Vinny asked. “You look like you had too many helpings of Alberta’s manicotti.”
“You can eat a whole tray of my manicotti and not have a mal di stomaco,” Alberta declared.
“I’m fine,” Jinx lied.
“No, you’re not,” Vinny corrected. “I’m a cop, I know tense, and you, my friend, are tense.”
“I didn’t know we were friends,” Jinx replied.
“We’re not ... not precisely anyway,” Vinny admitted. “But the one thing I hate more than disloyalty from my team is unnecessary tenseness.” Vinny took a deep breath and continued. “What do you say we start over?”
Startled by the unexpected proposition, Jinx instinctively glanced at Alberta, who understood her granddaughter was seeking direction as to how to receive Vinny’s offer, and opened her mouth to speak. No words immediately rushed out of her mouth and no advice poured from Alberta, not because she didn’t have anything to say, but because this was a moment between her friend and her granddaughter. Alberta was wise enough to know she shouldn’t interfere, no matter how much Jinx wanted her to.
“Are you game?” Vinny asked. “Or would you rather we continue to butt heads?”
Jinx stopped looking at her grandmother and decided it was time to look within. She was ambitious and obstinate and, at times, full of herself and conceited. But she was also kind and hardworking and empathetic. She had long considered Vinny to be a roadblock to her success, an obstacle, when he really was an ally, and as the chief of police, his friendship would be an advantage to her that most other investigative reporters didn’t have. He was right, there was no need for them to work at loggerheads; they were members of the same club, personally and professionally.
“I’d like that very much, Chief,” Jinx replied.
She extended her hand to Vinny, who took it. Alberta had to turn away so neither of them would see the tears start to form in her eyes. She wasn’t the stereotypical Italian woman prone to emotional outbursts, but seeing two people she loved pledge to move forward in peace was enough to make her cry.
“Now that that’s settled, let’s get down to business,” Vinny announced.
As he walked around his desk like a lecturer preparing to address an audience, the women responded by each taking a seat in one of the chairs. They waited patiently as Vinny pulled open a drawer and placed the arsenic bottle, still safely contained in a plastic bag, on the desk. He could tell by their expressions that they were not impressed because they had seen this piece of evidence before. It was the response he expected, and it played perfectly into his setup.
He held up a finger and smiled, resembling a magician masterfully controlling a group of mesmerized spectators and reached into his drawer once again. What he produced this time roused an enthusiastic response, which was his goal. It was true that a picture was worth a thousand words.
“Dio mio!” Alberta exclaimed. “Did you find that inside the arsenic bottle?”
“We most certainly did,” Vinny confirmed.
“Are those people who I think they are?” Jinx asked.
“They most certainly are,” Vinny confirmed again. “This is a photo of Daisy and Teddy from the early days of their partnership.”
Alberta and Jinx got up and leaned over the desk to get a better look at the photo in the plastic bag Vinny was holding.
“This was definitely a premeditated murder,” Alberta said. “The shawl and the prop bottle possibly could have been last-minute additions to make Missy’s death look more dramatic, but that photo wasn’t lying around the theatre.”
“Correct,” Vinny said. “The killer either had possession of the photo or somehow took it from Missy.”
“That latter scenario doesn’t sound very likely,” Jinx said. “If Missy’s killer is this mysterious escort who walked with her from the Tranquility Arms to St. Winifred’s, I can’t imagine there was enough time to rifle through her pocketbook in search of a photo.”
“Unless he got into Missy’s room at the Arms beforehand,” Alberta suggested.
“That’s a possibility we’re looking in to,” Vinny said. “Of course, there are no helpful fingerprints on the photo.”
“Are there ever?” Alberta said, sounding like a weary, hard-boiled cop.
“Rarely,” Vinny replied. “But at least we have this photo as a clue.”
“But what does it represent?” Jinx asked. “It isn’t like Daisy and Teddy’s relationship was a secret. Could the photo possibly implicate the actress who played Teddy as the killer?”
“I highly doubt that,” Vinny said. “Inga Schumacher is in her late nineties now, if she’s even still alive.”
“You don’t know if the woman is alive or dead?” Alberta asked.
“We’re doing a search for her, but so far, we’ve come up empty,” Vinny said. “We can’t find any notice of her online other than some
fansites that don’t have information about the woman after the series ended. Plus, we’re not even sure if her name is real.”
“You think Inga Schumacher is a stage name?” Jinx asked.
“It could be,” Vinny replied.
“Don’t you think she would’ve gone for something less ethnic?” Jinx suggested. “Especially at that time period.”
“I always liked Inga’s name, it stood out,” Alberta said. “But I know what you mean, lovey, movie studios liked actors to sound all-American. Like Rock Hudson and Doris Day. Though Rock and Inga has a nice ring to it.”
“They would’ve made a great onscreen pair, Alfie,” Vinny agreed. “They could’ve brought Rock on as Teddy’s love interest and he could’ve adopted Daisy.”
“They would’ve made a happy little family,” Alberta gushed.
“At the risk of ruining our recent truce,” Jinx interrupted, “could we stop the casting session and cast our attention back to the photo?”
“Sorry, I can get a little carried away when we start talking about the movies,” Vinny said. “Where were we?”
“Trying to locate Inga,” Jinx said.
“Right,” Vinny replied. “The other glitch in the search could be that Inga may have changed the spelling of her last name.”
“You think it could’ve been more ethnic than Inga Schumacher?” Alberta asked.
“Think about some of the relatives in our family trees, Alfie,” Vinny said. “My cousin Patsy’s full name doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”
“What’s her full name?” Jinx asked.
“Pasqualina Benedetta Mastrangelico,” Alberta replied.
“That flew right out of Gram’s mouth with no problem,” Jinx said.
“Your gram is an Italian woman in her sixties, not the head of a movie studio in the fifties,” Vinny replied. “All of that’s speculation for the moment anyway, right now we have to decipher the significance of this particular photo. It must have meant something to the killer, but what?”
All three of them took a closer look at the photo, but all three came to the same conclusion: The photo was insignificant. They weren’t sure if the picture captured Daisy and Teddy on a photo shoot or Missy and Inga on a day off. All they knew for certain was that because of Missy’s apparent age, it looked as if it was taken somewhere around the time the first film was released and they were standing in front of a house. Not exactly an abundance of clues. To find out more, they would definitely need to subject the photo to further examination.
Jinx took her phone from her bag and was about to take a photo of the photo when Vinny put up his hand to prevent Jinx from seeing anything except the crosscutting lines on his palm.
“Vinny, get out of the way, I’m trying to take a picture,” Jinx said.
“You can’t photograph this photograph,” Vinny said. “It’s evidence.”
“Which is why I need to photograph it,” Jinx explained. “To further examine the evidence.”
“Sorry, but I can’t risk this photo winding up on the front page of The Herald,” Vinny said.
Jinx was about to protest, but she knew Vinny had a point. For the moment, she had no intention of using this piece of evidence as part of her article, but at some point during the investigation it might become important, and she could see that Vinny’s worst nightmare could come true. Like any good reporter always trying to hustle for a lead and to manipulate a situation in her favor, Jinx knew it was time to negotiate.
“If you let me take a photo of this piece of photographic evidence so I can do some research,” Jinx started, “Gram will delete the photo she took of Missy’s corpse.”
The second the words were spoken Jinx knew how damaging they sounded. Up until this point, Vinny was unaware that Alberta had surreptitiously taken photos of Missy’s dead body at the crime scene, and that those photos were still on Alberta’s phone, mixed in with the images of Lola playing with her new toy goldfish and Helen experimenting with a shade of lipstick even more garish than the bubblegum pink she had grown so fond of. Vinny’s explosive reaction, therefore, was not unexpected.
“You took a photo of Missy’s dead body?!”
Shrugging her shoulders, Alberta knew there was no sense in feigning innocence—Jinx had just outed her as a criminal. Or at least someone with a questionable fetish.
“I only wanted to take a photo of the lace around Missy’s neck to prove it was a curtain and not a shawl,” Alberta explained. “And Missy’s body got in the way.”
“Missy’s ... body ... got in the way?” Vinny repeated in disbelief.
“Yes,” Alberta replied. “If you remember, Missy was sprawled out on the chaise lounge. She took up a lot of space.”
Vinny buried his face in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. What big hands Vinny has, Alberta thought, I never noticed that before. She wondered if he was going to use those big hands to pull clumps of his own hair from his scalp, clench them into fists, and pound his desk, or reach forward and use them to strangle both ladies like someone had strangled Missy. When Vinny extended his hand toward Alberta, she thought, Well, at least, if he just strangles me, Jinx will be able to escape.
“Give me your phone, Alfie, so I can personally delete those photos,” Vinny demanded.
Once she was certain that Vinny, in his angry, frustrated state, wasn’t going to physically assault her—which really was never a possibility, was it?—she regained her composure and was able to respond without fear.
“Not until you let Jinx take a photo of this clue,” Alberta said in an equally demanding tone.
Alberta watched Vinny stare at her and then at Jinx. Instinctively, she knew exactly what her old friend was thinking. She knew he understood that they were all working toward the same goal, but she also knew he was aware that she and Jinx had their own agenda. Would he play by the rules? Or play smart? Alberta held her breath and waited to see how Vinny was going to roll the dice.
“Jinx, we reached an agreement today to work as partners and I expect you to keep up your end of that bargain,” Vinny said.
“I have every intention of doing that,” Jinx declared.
“If this photo winds up in The Herald, I will personally arrest you for stealing evidence,” Vinny said. “Is that understood?”
“I want to achieve a lot of things in my life, Vinny,” Jinx said. “A prison record is not one of them. I hear you loud and clear.”
“Good,” Vinny replied. “Now take your photo and get out of here.”
* * *
A few hours later, at Alberta’s house, printed copies of the photo were sprawled out on the kitchen table. Jinx had stopped off at The Herald on their way back from the police station and printed out several copies, even enlarging the image so they would have blown-up versions to examine as well. The larger copies did distort the visual quality of the photo slightly, but it magnified the details of the picture, giving the viewer a different perspective. They were hoping it would also give them a clue as to the photo’s significance.
It was a little early in the day to be sipping Red Herrings, so there was a pitcher of iced tea in the center of the table that was surrounded by a dish of cold cuts, cheeses, sliced tomatoes, lettuce, Italian bread, and a jar of mayonnaise and mustard, everything needed to make a sandwich for lunch. Not that the Ferraras and their friends ever needed an excuse to eat, but sleuthing did make them hungry.
Helen and Father Sal were at the theatre along with the other cast members and Freddy was working, so only Joyce and Sloan joined Alberta and Jinx around the table to examine the photo. They each had their own copy to examine, and after a few moments of silent perusal, Joyce pulled a magnifying glass from her pocketbook to enlarge her enlarged copy even further.
“Ah, Madon, Joyce!” Alberta cried. “Are you planning to go on Let’s Make a Deal?”
“I’ve had this thing for decades,” Joyce said. “Anthony picked it up for me at some junk store.”
“That’s n
ot a very romantic gift, Aunt Joyce,” Jinx said.
“It’s better than romantic, honey, it’s useful,” Joyce replied.
“How so, Joyce?” Alberta asked. “You never even wore glasses.”
“It’s thanks to Arnold Brandenburg,” Joyce replied.
“Who’s that?” Alberta asked.
“Some guy I used to work with whose nickname all throughout Wall Street was The Jerk,” Joyce said.
“Sounds like a charmer,” Sloan said after taking a huge bite of a roast beef and provolone sandwich.
“Anything but,” Joyce replied. “He would deliberately scribble his orders on tiny slips of paper, so it was incredibly difficult for anyone to read. I would always complain about it, so one day Anthony brought me this magnifying glass and Arnold’s chicken scratch finally became legible.”
“I take it back,” Jinx said. “That’s actually very romantic.”
“My husband had his moments,” Joyce offered. “I wish this thing would work its magic on this photo, though. I don’t know about you, but it doesn’t look real to me.”
“I’m having the same thought,” Sloan said, still chewing on the same bite of his sandwich. “Maybe it’s because the photo is so old.”
“It could be a publicity still,” Alberta suggested. “Like the ones the movie studios used to put out.”
“That gives me an idea, Gram.”
Without any further clarification, Jinx got up from the table and ran into the living room. Intrigued but not concemed, the rest of the group continued to eat their lunch and scour the photo for a clue that had not yet popped out at them. When Jinx returned, she brought with her Father Sal’s DVD collection of all of Daisy’s movies followed by Lola, who slithered into the kitchen behind Jinx. The cat, of course, was not delighted that Daisy received more attention than she did upon entering.
“Jinx, what a brilliant idea!” Joyce exclaimed. “Maybe we’ll find the photo on one of the DVD covers.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Jinx confirmed.
Fifteen minutes later, hope had crashed, burned, and disintegrated into a puff of smoke that was invisible but left the distinctive whiff of disappointment lingering in the air. The DVD inserts and cover jackets were strewn about the table, mixed in with the food, the photocopies, and a very bored Lola, and not one of the numerous images matched the photo that had been stuffed inside the arsenic bottle. All the visual footage used on the DVDs portrayed Daisy as a wealthy girl who lived in a swanky New York apartment. Even when she was photographed outside her home, the locations were sophisticated and urbane, nothing like the rural setting of the photo they’d found.
