Murder at St. Winifred's Academy

by J. D. Griffo

  “Thanks so much,” Kip said. “I’d better get up on that stage before Johnny recasts my part.”

  When Kip turned to run toward the stage, Jinx felt all the energy leave her body. She slumped into an aisle seat until she caught her breath from the shock. The letter Kip had received was addressed to him at his former address in Deer Isle, Maine. He and Missy were from the same hometown.

  CHAPTER 17

  Non tutti i ragazzi crescono per essere uomini.

  Being part of an amateur detective team meant always being able to rely on your partners. Except for those times when your partners were too busy to help.

  Alberta and Helen were onstage working with Johnny to lock in the blocking for their opening scene and Joyce was huddled over a desk with Sloan working on the revised publicity campaign that had to highlight the new star of the show, while being sensitive to the reason the old star had been replaced. Jinx was on her own.

  She slipped out of the theatre unnoticed without any thought of where to go, but by the time she was behind the steering wheel of her car she had a destination. It was Saturday, so there wouldn’t be anyone at The Herald and she’d be able to do some research uninterrupted. And if a colleague also gave in to the urge to work over the weekend, she’d say she needed peace and quiet from her large, loud Italian family to put the finishing touches on an article she was working on. Which wasn’t far from the truth.

  As expected, the office was empty, which allowed Jinx free rein to work unencumbered without worrying if Calhoun, her main rival at the paper, or anyone else for that matter, would be lurking nearby, trying to snoop around and sneak a peek at what she was investigating. Or, more specifically, who.

  Jinx couldn’t believe Kip was from the same hometown as Missy. What were the odds? It had to be more than a coincidence, especially because Kip had kept the fact a secret. When he was asked where he came from, he had told her grandmother he was from the Boston area, which was a generalization at best, but very far from the truth.

  In the short time Jinx had known Kip, she had not taken him for the quiet type. He was a lawyer and an actor, two professions that required bravado and noise and were not suited for those with shy or tiny egos. Kip wasn’t obnoxious, but he was gregarious and talkative. He’d deliberately chosen to keep his origin confidential. But why?

  Using the online search resources available to the newspaper, which were more extensive than those used by the general public, Jinx quickly connected Kip Flanigan to the address in Deer Isle, Maine, that she saw on the letter. It wasn’t an error, it wasn’t an optical illusion born out of wishful thinking on her part to connect Kip to the murder victim. At some point in his life before relocating to New Jersey, Kip had lived in the same town where Missy was born.

  Energized, Jinx continued her search to delve deeper into Kip’s past and came up with innocuous bits of information. He graduated from Deer Isle-Stonington High School, went to Bowdoin College, and received his law degree from Boston University. According to the date on an old driver’s license and an obituary on the Jordan-Fernald Funeral Home in Mt. Desert, Jinx was able to cobble together a portion of Kip’s history.

  Instead of moving out into the world as an adult, he returned to Deer Isle after the death of his father, who died suddenly of a heart attack while Kip was in law school. He stayed for almost two years and appeared to live an uneventful life; at least there were no events worthy of online testimony. Until Jinx stumbled into a chat room at JazzHands.com that listed all the community theatres in southeastern Maine.

  In a thread for a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at New Surry Theatre in Blue Hill, Maine, Kip was singled out, not for the kudos he received for his portrayal of the title character, but for the criminal charges filed against him that forced him to leave the show prematurely.

  “Ah, Madon,” Jinx muttered, sounding more like her grandmother than she realized. “Kip is a criminal?”

  Leaning in closer to her computer, Jinx read that most of the posts debated who was better, Kip or his replacement, Alan Doohey, with the consensus tipping slightly in Kip’s favor, though, to be fair, a huge percentage of chatters agreed that Alan had a more defined six-pack.

  The more interesting posts, however, referenced a mysterious arrest that resulted in Kip spending several nights in jail until the charges were dropped. It was his stint in the clink that forced him to miss the final week of performances and allowed Alan to take over the lead.

  “What charges?” Jinx asked the screen. “What crime did Kip commit?”

  She looked up quickly to make sure she was still alone and that no one had overheard her talking to herself. Once satisfied that she was still the only one in the office, she continued to scour the seemingly endless chat posts in search of specific details of Kip’s crime. Fifteen minutes and an exhaustive online search later, all she’d uncovered were posts that argued his innocence or guilt, but none that detailed the crime itself. The only clue was the mention of someone named Wes. Was he the victim of whatever crime Kip was involved in? Was he a cohort, the whistleblower? Everyone in the chat room seemed to know the details of the crime so no one felt the need to mention it.

  “Thanks a lot, JazzHands.com!” Jinx cried.

  She was still no closer to finding out why Kip was arrested. What could he have done that would’ve kept him in jail for a few nights? Confident she wouldn’t find what she was searching for on the Internet, she decided to go directly to the source. Not Kip, but the Deer Isle police force.

  “Hello, my name is Jinx Maldonado and I’m a reporter at The Upper Sussex Herald in Tranquility, New Jersey.”

  Jinx hoped that her professional credentials, not to mention the speaking voice she adopted when trying to sound, well, professional, would convince the police officer on the other end of the line to cooperate and give her whatever information she requested. When she heard the officer’s friendly response, she thought they were off to a promising start.

  “Hello, Ms. Maldonado from New Jersey, this is Detective Perreti from Deer Isle. How can I help you?”

  When she heard that she was speaking to an Italian, she knew the rest of the conversation would be smooth sailing.

  “I’m doing research on cold cases throughout the country, kind of a state-by-state profile for a series of articles I’m writing for the paper,” Jinx said, impressed with her on-the-spot lie. “And I’m looking to get more information on a case in Deer Isle involving Kip Flanigan.”

  “I can’t help you with that,” the detective replied.

  So much for working with a fellow paisan.

  “Is there someone who can help me?” Jinx asked.

  “No.”

  This time the detective’s voice sounded even less cooperative.

  “Perhaps I could speak to your chief, perhaps he—or she—is aware of something called the Freedom of Information Act,” Jinx stated.

  “I’m fully aware of the FOI, but you’re still not going to get what you want, no matter who you talk to,” the detective replied.

  Suddenly, all professionalism and decorum Jinx was trying to maintain disappeared in an angry poof and all that was left was her stubborn and very high-voltage Italian personality. “And why the hell not?!”

  “Because those case files are sealed,” the detective replied.

  “Sealed?” Jinx said. “Why in the world would Kip’s case files be sealed?”

  The detective didn’t answer Jinx’s question because he had already hung up.

  What kind of crime could Kip have committed? And why would the files on his case be sealed? If he had been arrested for a petty crime and no charges were pressed against him, there wouldn’t be any reason to seal his file. He must have done something huge, then perhaps cut a deal with the DA’s office, and in return his file was being kept secret from prying eyes like nosy reporters several states away.

  Government red tape was no match for the Ferrara Family Detective Agency, and by the time Alberta
, Helen, and Joyce returned from rehearsal they found Jinx waiting for them in Alberta’s kitchen with a fully formulated plan.

  “You want us to do what?” Alberta gasped.

  “You and Aunt Helen need to invite yourselves over to Kip’s apartment under the pretense that you want to rehearse lines in order to give me the opportunity to search his place for clues so we can find out why he lied to us about living in the same hometown as Missy and uncover what kind of crime he committed back in Maine.”

  When Jinx finally finished speaking so she could take a much-needed breath, the rest of the women took her pause as their chance to tell her how crazy they thought her idea was.

  “You want us to invite ourselves over to a criminal’s apartment?” Alberta asked.

  “You want me to act as if I don’t know my lines?” Helen asked.

  “Also too, with your guts you should play the stock market,” Joyce added.

  “If I ever make enough money to gamble it away, Aunt Joyce, I’ll remember that,” Jinx said. “But for now, I’d rather stick with a sure bet. If you follow my plan, this will all work out. Do you trust me?”

  Alberta and Joyce said “Absolutely” at the same time Helen said “No,” but luckily, they believed in majority rule, so the ayes won out.

  “I still can’t believe Kip could be a criminal,” Alberta said. “He’s such a nice boy.”

  “Nice boys can have shady pasts, Berta,” Helen said. “Remember Louis Pantoliano?”

  Alberta didn’t respond verbally; she gasped and made the sign of the cross, kissed her fingers, and offered them up to the heavens.

  “What was so shady about Louis Pantoliano?” Jinx asked.

  “Never you mind, lovey,” Alberta said. “Some pasts are better left alone.”

  Helen grabbed the pitcher of Red Herring on the table and started to pour everyone a glass. “Let’s hope Kip’s isn’t one of those.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Alberta called Kip to ask if he would be available to rehearse privately. She explained that because she was so new to the theatre and very nervous about working with such established actors, she needed the extra rehearsal time to be on par with the rest of the cast. Alberta was thrilled when Kip immediately agreed. She was less excited to hear that Kip agreed that Alberta needed additional rehearsal time because he said her thespian skill set was practically nonexistent. So much for instilling confidence in a fledgling actor.

  They discussed a time to meet and Kip told her that he was available later in the day if she wanted to come over. Alberta said that she’d bring the food if he brought his theatrical know-how.

  “I’m a bachelor, Mrs. Scaglione, I’ll do anything for a free meal,” Kip said. “I’ll see you at around three.”

  The drive to Parsippany took about thirty minutes, but it gave the women time to fine-tune their plan. Jinx drove them in her car and would explain to Kip that Helen’s Buick was in the shop and Alberta was almost as bad with directions as Kip, so Jinx had to be their chauffeur. It was a plausible reason for her to be tagging along. It would also allow Jinx the freedom to search his apartment while the three actors were rehearsing their scene.

  “What if he catches you, lovey?” Alberta asked. “If he really is a criminal, he might not appreciate someone searching his place.”

  “Number one, he is a criminal, Gram.”

  “That’s right, Berta, don’t get soft on us now,” Helen said.

  “I’m not getting soft,” Alberta said, not entirely believing herself. “I’m keeping an open mind.”

  “Non tutti i ragazzi crescono per essere uomini,” Helen said.

  “Really?” Alberta asked. “Then what do boys grow up to be?”

  “Murderers,” Helen replied. “Odds are fifty-fifty that this sweet-faced boy has grown up to be a cold-blooded killer. Remember that and we all might drive back home in this Chevy instead of a stretcher with white sheets over our faces.”

  “Wowza, Aunt Helen,” Jinx said. “You don’t really think Kip would murder all three of us, do you?”

  “Why are we forcing ourselves into his apartment to force out his secrets into the light of day if we don’t think he’s capable of murder?” Helen asked. “It’s similar to the plot of Arsenic and Old Lace. My character, Martha Brewster, is a sweet-faced old lady who’s killed over a dozen people with her equally homicidal sister. You never know what people are capable of.”

  “I should’ve known you’d become a method actress,” Alberta said.

  “I am committed to my craft, Berta,” Helen replied.

  “You know something, maybe this was all a mistake,” Jinx announced, steering the car into the parking lot of Kip’s condo complex. “Why don’t you call Kip and tell him that you have to cancel.”

  “Sciocchezza! Let’s not get ourselves worked up,” Alberta said. “I have a feeling we’re going to have a lovely afternoon.”

  * * *

  “Mrs. Scaglione, how nice to see you,” Kip said as he greeted Alberta at the door. “And you too, Helen.” By the time he said hello to Jinx, his smile appeared strained. “Jinx, I didn’t know you were coming too.”

  “It’s my fault,” Helen said. “We usually take my Buick, but the distributor is on the fritz.”

  “And I’m almost as bad with directions as you are,” Alberta declared.

  “Which left me to play the role of the chauffeur,” Jinx lied.

  “I didn’t want to cancel, Kip,” Alberta said. “I am in way over my head with this acting stuff and you’re such a good actor, I really could use your help.”

  A genuine smile returned to Kip’s face.

  “Like Thespis and Suzanne Pleshette who came before me, it is my duty to guide those less fortunate,” Kip declared.

  Helen gasped. When she could speak, she asked, “You appreciate the acting prowess of Suzanne Pleshette too?”

  “It all starts with the voice, Helen,” Kip replied. “And no one had a better voice than Ms. Pleshette. In fact, when you say certain vowel sounds you remind me of her.”

  “You’re right, Berta,” Helen said. “We’re going to have a lovely afternoon.”

  “If you don’t mind, I always like to begin a rehearsal with some stretching and breathing exercises,” Kip said.

  “It would be blasphemy to begin any other way,” Helen agreed.

  Alberta and Jinx had no idea if Helen was being serious, but they wouldn’t dare mock her for her newfound passion. It was wonderful to see her giving her all to this play. And if it helped with their investigation by making Kip feel in control, that was even better.

  Kip took the tray of food Alberta had brought into his kitchen as they all agreed they would eat after they rehearsed. When he returned, Jinx sat in a chair off to the side and watched the three of them raise their arms, breathe in through their noses, exhale, make soft vowel sounds, and thank the theatre gods for allowing them the opportunity to perform and bring their characters to life. She sat in awe and fought the urge to laugh at the spectacle, but then she realized she was no better. When Joyce first opened the doors of the closet that housed a wardrobe that had been cultivated over four decades, Jinx practically got down on her knees and wept with joy. No one passion was better than another. She loved clothes, Kip loved acting.

  She also loved being able to play the detective without Kip detecting she was playing such a role.

  Sitting in a chair that had its back to the front door, Jinx was able to survey the area and deduced that Kip’s condo provided the perfect floor plan for her to investigate without getting caught. The front room was L-shaped and comprised the living and dining rooms. To their immediate right were two doors; one was a closet, and based on the whirring sound emanating from the other, it housed the washer and dryer. The kitchen was off to the left of the dining room, but a wall separated it from the living room, blocking any line of vision. Behind the kitchen was the bathroom and to the right were two more doors that presumably led to the bedrooms. As long as
Alberta and Helen kept their working space to the left side of the living room and made sure Kip’s back was facing the bulk of the apartment, Jinx shouldn’t have any problem looking into each room without being seen by Kip.

  The one tip Jinx had picked up from this crash course in theatre was that one of the most difficult things to learn was timing. Just as Kip was setting up the blocking for the first scene all their characters had together, Jinx whispered that she had to use the bathroom. As expected, Kip was so engrossed in his work that he hardly acknowledged her comment and simply pointed toward the back of the condo without ever taking his eyes from Alberta.

  It was Jinx’s turn to perform.

  She went into the bathroom and turned on the light and the overhead fan, but instead of staying in the room, she closed the door behind her and tiptoed across the hall to the door that she assumed led to Kip’s bedroom. When she opened it, she saw that she was right.

  Kip had only recently moved in, so the bedroom wasn’t fully furnished and there were boxes stacked in a corner. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and slow her racing heartbeat and began to move about the room. She opened the closet and found nothing but clothes and shoeboxes. The boxes could contain something other than shoes, but she didn’t have the luxury to open each and every one. Her time was limited and she had to use it wisely.

  She closed the closet and focused on the boxes in the room. She took the lid from the top box and, true to Kip’s nature, it contained scripts and books about theatre. The second box was filled with law books and the bottom box was labeled office supplies. If there was a box that was labeled office supplies, presumably there had to be an office, which was a much more likely place for Kip to store incriminating evidence than in his bedroom. Who would want to sleep every night with a reminder of past evil deeds literally a few feet away? Buried secrets needed to be buried as far away as possible.

  Jinx closed the bedroom door behind her and glanced to the left. She couldn’t see anyone, so that meant they were still utilizing the far left side of the living room as their mock stage. Still, she had been gone for quite a while, and her absence might not ignite alarm, but it would definitely be noticed. Erring on the safe side, Jinx flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and turned off the bathroom lights, but deliberately kept the fan on to create additional noise.