by J. D. Griffo
“You should practice what you preach, Mr. Chief of Police,” Alberta said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vinny asked.
“Excuse me, Chief,” Tambra said. “The team needs to start collecting evidence.”
Reluctantly, Vinny turned his attention away from Alberta’s veiled accusation and toward the dead body in the room. “Of course I want a report on their findings in the morning, and we need to bring Johnny Fenn and Kip Flanigan in for questioning.”
By the time he turned back around, Alberta had slipped out of the apartment to join Joyce, who was waiting for her in the hallway. Vinny would have to interrogate his old friend later, he had two new suspects to grill first.
* * *
“You let them both go?!”
Alberta’s voice blared through the phone and exited from the receiver on the other end so clearly that Vinny was glad he’d closed his office door before dialing. He explained the details of the investigation, knowing full well that Alberta wouldn’t want to hear the facts, but the truth was both Kip and Johnny had alibis that didn’t seem fabricated, although they were being checked out. The police had searched both apartments for the security footage videotape but came up empty, and only Brandon’s fingerprints were found on the tape cover with the results from the rubber band coming back inconclusive. It wasn’t what Alberta wanted to hear, but with no legal reason to hold either suspect, Vinny’s only recourse was to let them both go.
“Did you at least tell them not to leave the state?” Alberta asked.
“Yes, Alfie, I know how to do my job.”
“Mi dispiace, I’m frustrated,” Alberta said apologetically. “As much as I didn’t want to believe it, I thought for sure it was one of them, Vinny.”
“Me too, especially when I saw Kip’s cinematic sanctuary, mucca sacra! He literally worships that woman. Creepy isn’t the word for it, it’s downright macabre.”
“What do we do now?” Alberta asked.
“We don’t take our eyes off either of those boys,” Vinny said. “Just because we couldn’t hold them doesn’t mean they’re innocent. If one of them is the murderer, trust me, they’re going to crack.”
* * *
Later that night as Jinx, Freddy, Nola, and Johnny were having dinner at the girls’ apartment, it seemed as if Vinny’s prediction was starting to come true.
“This whole town thinks I’m a murderer!”
No one could disagree with Johnny, but Nola, being the devoted girlfriend she was, tried to mollify his fears. She only made the situation worse. “Not just you, Johnny, the police also suspect Kip.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Nola!” Johnny cried. “Kip is the one who killed Missy. Why can’t anyone see that?”
“Why would you say that, Johnny?” Jinx asked.
“He comes from the same small town in Maine that Missy does,” he stated.
Jinx hid her surprise at this comment and asked, “How do you know that?”
“Everybody knows he’s been lying because he’s guilty!” Johnny cried, slamming his fist on the table.
“Dude! Knock it off!” Freddy yelled. “We’re trying to have a nice dinner and all you’re doing is yelling.”
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t sign up for this,” Johnny said. “All I wanted to do was direct a play and get noticed.”
“Well, you kind of got your wish,” Freddy said.
Just as Johnny was about to unleash yet another verbal tirade, Jinx’s cell phone rang, filling the air with the theme song from Murder, She Wrote. She told everyone that she was only binging on the show because she was doing professional research, but if she was being honest, she had developed a serious girl crush on Angela Lansbury.
“It’s my boss, I have to take this,” Jinx said, getting up and walking into the galley kitchen. “Hi, Wyck, what’s up?”
“I need an article tying Brandon’s murder to Missy’s,” Wyck demanded.
Jinx of course couldn’t see Wyck, but she knew exactly what he was doing. He was leaning forward, his forearms on his desk, as he spoke into his speakerphone. His ears were beet red and he was bouncing in his chair like a toddler on a sugar high. It was how he got whenever he was excited about a new angle to an article.
“I’m already on it,” Jinx replied.
“I want you to talk to everybody—the only Miccalizzo left standing, the obsessed fan, and that director guy,” Wyck ordered.
Jinx glanced at Johnny stealthily and replied, “I’ve got them all covered.”
“And don’t forget Inga,” Wyck said.
“Who’s Inga?” Jinx asked.
“The woman who played Teddy in the movies with Missy.”
“Right, the grandmother. She’s still alive?”
“Alive and well and living in that actor’s retirement home in Englewood,” Wyck explained.
“What?” Jinx cried. “I can’t believe she’s still alive, she’s ancient.”
“She’s old, but we still send Christmas cards to each other every year.”
“Wyck, why haven’t you called her already to interview her?”
“Because that’s your job! I’m the editor and you’re the reporter.”
“Do you really think an old lady in a nursing home is going to be able to shed any light on Missy’s murder?”
“Probably not, but her story will make for a great human-interest piece,” Wyck said.
“I still can’t believe you’ve never gone to see her. You’re such a fan.”
“I didn’t want to destroy the illusion of only knowing her from the movies,” Wyck said. “You know these actor types are mesmerizing on the big screen, but up close and personal, they can be the most annoying creatures on God’s green earth.”
“I’ll visit her tomorrow,” Jinx said. “Thanks for the tip.”
When Jinx turned around, she saw Freddy, Johnny, and Nola staring at her from the dining room table. Freddy and Nola looked curious, but Johnny looked like he was about to explode.
He didn’t disappoint. “I have had it! My career is imploding, we’re trying to have a relaxing dinner, and all you can do is talk about murder.”
“She’s trying to find out who really killed that old lady and clear your name, ya stunod!” Freddy bellowed.
“Vai all’inferno!” Johnny shouted. He stormed off into Nola’s bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
“You know something, Nola?” Freddy started. “You’re boyfriend’s ajerk.”
Shaking her head placatingly, she replied, “He’s just an artist.”
“Stop making excuses for him,” Freddy said. “You deserve better than him and you know it.”
He wasn’t done giving orders. He turned to Jinx and started to put on his jacket. “Get your things, you’re staying over at my place tonight. If she wants to stay in this apartment with that loose cannon that’s her choice, but I am not leaving you to spend the night in this apartment with him one door down.”
A throng of emotions flooded Jinx’s body and she had to hold on to the back of the chair to steady herself. She was disturbed by Johnny’s aggressive outburst, she was saddened that her best friend had such little self-respect, but most of all she was proud of her boyfriend’s passion. She knew she should probably be scared, but she was exhilarated.
* * *
The next morning, Jinx was still overflowing with joy. Part of it had to do with the romantic evening she had spent with her very protective boyfriend, but part of it also had to do with that day’s scheduled road trip.
The Actors Fund Home was located on six acres in Englewood, New Jersey, about an hour from Tranquility. The home was first established in Staten Island at the turn of the twentieth century but was relocated to its current location a few decades later. As its name implied, the first-rate facility catered to retired actors and, as a result, focused as much on the personal touch as providing the most up-to-date medical care. The residents were former actors, they had earned their livings co
mmunicating with others, expressing emotions, and sharing their souls with countless audiences. It was only fair that they received the same attention in their golden years.
Inga Schumacher had no idea that she was about to receive more attention in one afternoon than she had in the past decade. But when she saw the four Ferrara ladies flanking Father Sal in the doorway of her private room, the ninety-eight-year-old suddenly turned into the great film star Greta Garbo and wanted to be left alone.
“Get out!” Inga shouted. “I’m not ready for my last rites!”
She might look old and frail, but the former movie actress was just as feisty as she was when she portrayed Teddy Greenfield decades ago. She was also as compassionate. Once Alberta explained who they were and that they wanted to speak to Inga about her former costar, Inga instructed the young nurse who ushered them into the room to find two more chairs so her guests could be comfortable while they talked. Despite the dreadful reasons that prompted the visit, Inga was grateful for the company.
When everyone was seated around Inga’s bed, the woman was ready to hold court. She sat up, folded her hands in her lap, and said, “What do you want to know?”
On the drive over, the group had decided to let Jinx lead the conversation and speak for the group. If they all bombarded her with questions at once, Inga would probably call for the hook and have them thrown out of her room.
“When was the last time you spoke with Missy?” Jinx asked.
“Just a few weeks ago,” Inga replied. “She told me all about how she was going to star in Arsenic and Old Lace.”
“Was she excited about the opportunity?”
“She was thrilled,” Inga replied. “She couldn’t wait to work with Johnny the director. She said that over and over again, Johnny the director, never just Johnny, always Johnny the director.”
“It sounds like she trusted Johnny with making her look good for her comeback,” Jinx said.
“She most certainly did. You know she had never performed onstage before. I gave her a few tips from when I was on the boards, but that was a long time ago. She said she wasn’t worried about making her debut and her comeback at the same time, she felt like she was in good hands with Johnny the director. She thought it might open some new doors and lead to other jobs,” Inga explained. “She even got her own website, it got her so excited, like she was little Missy again.”
“She has her own website?” Jinx asked.
“Missy said every serious actress these days has one,” Inga replied. “I’m sure she got ripped off, though, I mean, I don’t know anything about websites, but one hundred thousand dollars seems like a lot of money.”
“To create a website?” Joyce interjected.
“That’s what she told me she paid for it,” Inga replied. “I didn’t say anything. Lord knows she has almost every dime she ever made. It’s not like she ever helped out her family.”
“Could they have used her help?” Alberta asked.
“What family can’t use a little financial help now and again?” Inga replied.
She leaned back against her pillows and everyone remained silent. Whatever Inga was thinking about was making her sad; she shook her head a few times in response to whatever memory was playing out in her mind and waved a wrinkled hand in the air.
“I tried to get Missy to reunite with her family, but she had been on her own since she was practically a baby and she had become tough and isolated by the time she was thirty. She wouldn’t listen to me.” Inga sighed deeply and continued, “I could’ve tried harder, I’m sure, but I had my own family problems. I never had children of my own, mind you, but I took care of my parents and sister before they all passed,” Inga explained. “And now Missy’s gone. But her death was inevitable, one way or the other. At least Johnny the director made her happy in her final days.”
Her emotional words moved everyone in the room. Especially Father Sal, who sat on Inga’s bed and took her hands in his. “If Johnny made Missy as happy as you, Inga Schumacher, made all of us by watching you cavort up there on that big silver screen, she passed over into eternal life with a huge smile on her face.”
A similar smile grew on Inga’s face, and then the rest of the ladies in the room.
“Thank you, Father,” Inga said. “Thanks to all of you for making me feel like I had an audience again.” She then said what everyone else was thinking. “What a splendid way to spend an afternoon.”
* * *
The feeling stayed with them when they returned to Alberta’s house. Jinx, for one, couldn’t believe that even while investigating two murders that were almost assuredly linked and committed by the same diabolical person, she felt joyful. It looked as if Lola felt the same way.
When Alberta placed a plate of cut-up meatballs on the floor and called for Lola, the cat uncharacteristically didn’t respond. Usually, she bounded into the kitchen, and although she might play the role of Miss Finicky from time to time, she could never resist the aroma of Alberta’s meatballs for very long.
“Lola! Come and eat!” Alberta cried, but still there was no response.
“Gram, come look!” Jinx yelled from the living room. “Lola’s playing with the teddy bear you found in Missy’s room at the Tranquility Arms.”
“It’s a sign,” Father Sal said. “We just met the real Teddy and now Lola’s playing with her namesake.”
“That isn’t playing,” Helen said. “That’s a catfight.”
They all examined Lola more closely and realized Helen was right. What might have started as a playful encounter with the stuffed animal was turning into an all-out brawl. Alberta intervened before the teddy bear suffered a fatal injury.
“Lola, give me that,” Alberta said, trying to pry the bear from Lola’s claws and teeth.
“I’ve never seen Lola so aggressive,” Joyce said. “Is there a meatball tucked away in the belly of the bear?”
No, but there was a message.
Alberta grabbed the bear and pulled in one direction while Lola bit down on the head and yanked in the opposite direction, resulting in the cute little teddy bear being torn in two.
“Oh, my eyes!” Father Sal cried. “I feel like I’ve been transported back to the Inquisition!”
There was no bloodshed, but the aftermath was just as frightening.
There was a piece of paper sticking out from the torso of the now-headless bear. Jinx instructed everyone not to touch the note and ran out to the kitchen to find the latex gloves she kept in her bag. Her hands covered appropriately, she pulled out the note, noticed a faint smell of catnip or perfume, which was what probably had aroused Lola, and smoothed out the note so it could be read.
“What does it say?” Alberta asked.
“It’s addressed to you, Gram,” Jinx replied.
“Me? Sanjay said the package had been delivered to Missy,” she explained. “Why would the note be addressed to me?”
“Whoever wrote it knew you ultimately would find it,” Jinx said. “It’s a warning.”
Jinx held up the note so the others could read it. There was no other way to interpret its message, the note was a direct threat. “Alberta, stop snooping or you’ll wind up as dead as Missy.”
And just like that, the joy everyone had felt all day long vanished from the room.
CHAPTER 22
Non si può aver il miele senza la pecchie.
Never fear, this wasn’t the first death threat Alberta had ever received. One had even come in the sixth grade, decades before she became an amateur sleuth, and was written in green magic marker by Joanne Rutigliano, who was angry at Alberta for beating her in the school spelling bee. As was the case back in grammar school, Alberta refused to allow a cowardly missive to prevent her from living her life.
Alberta had the same message for whoever was threatening her now that she had for Joanne: Se hai qualcosa da dire, dillo alla mia facia. She knew her anonymous admirer had something to say, Alberta just wished they would say it to her face. The irony di
dn’t escape her when she was face to face with Sloan and knew she should say something to him about the note, but decided to keep her mouth shut instead. Somewhere Joanne Rutigliano was saying, You can give it, but you can’t take it.
Ignoring the voice in her head, Alberta was determined to have a leisurely lunch with Sloan at Mama Bella’s Café without once uttering the words Missy Michaels, murder, Brandon, strangulation, or anything related to theatre. They were halfway through their meal and it looked as if Alberta was going to see her goal fulfilled. It was Friday, so they had decided to go old-school Italian and order fish. Shrimp cocktail for an appetizer, followed by a warm octopus salad and, for their entrée, bay scallops over squid pasta. As the waiter swapped out empty salad plates for pasta bowls, Alberta saw Bruno picking up a takeout order from the front and all her hopes for a private lunch were killed.
“Bruno, so nice to see you,” Alberta said as Bruno approached their table.
“This is like déjà vu,” Bruno said.
“Why, have we met here before?” Sloan asked.
“No, I was at China Chef last week picking up my takeout and I bumped into Jinx and Nola having lunch, so they invited me to join them,” Bruno explained.
As much as Alberta truly liked Bruno, she knew she was going to hate herself for her next statement. “I can’t allow my granddaughter to have better manners than me, come join us.”
“Are you sure?” Bruno asked. “I don’t want to intrude.”
Sloan was already pulling out a chair for Bruno. “Don’t be silly, you and Berta are going to share the stage with each other shortly, why not share a table for lunch?”
Bruno sat down and pulled a large container out of his bag. He took off the lid and the aroma of lemons and herbs filled the air. Alberta didn’t even need to look at Bruno’s meal to know he’d ordered the salmon as it was one of her favorite dishes at the restaurant. Bruno, unfortunately, wanted to talk about one of her least favorite topics.