Cold Moon Dead
Page 17
The room was half-filled with people who turned to stare as we entered through the rear door. I smiled at Marcus and turned to Millie. She stepped up to the counter and greeted us as though we were long lost friends.
As usual, Marcus laid his trooper charm out like a roll of wallpaper on the loose. These guys just can’t help themselves. The uniform has a lot to do with it, because when troopers are in regular clothes, they look like every other Joe on the street. And they say clothes don’t make the man, huh.
I smiled as Millie fell victim to his charm. Speechless, she only nodded when he ordered a coffee to go. When I stepped up to order, she snapped out of her reverie as though I’d slapped her upside the head.
“What will you have, Vinnie?” she asked.
“Earl Grey tea will do the trick, Millie,” I said with a grin.
She scooted off to prepare the beverages while Marcus sauntered into the kitchen. He was greeted with Lola’s wide smile that had the usual effect on him. He smiled back and gave her a brief hug. I hadn’t gotten a hug, nor had he asked how I was. Huh. I guess I wasn’t as fragile as Lola.
Millie brought our steaming beverages into the kitchen. Marcus handed Millie some money. She thanked him, slid a glance toward me, winked, and left the room. A smile tickled the corners of my mouth at the thought of her reaction to his charm.
The conversation between Lola and Marcus included the news of the cookbook release. Marcus congratulated Lola over her publishing success. She grinned. Her glance swung toward me.
“Aaron came by earlier. He had a few questions about last night. Did you see him this morning?”
“He stopped at my apartment before he left. We discussed Jabroni’s death. Why? What did he ask you?”
Lola’s face took on a strange look. “He wanted to know if I’d remembered anything else about last night, but I hadn’t. Why would he ask that?”
She didn’t know Aaron was an FBI agent, so her curiosity was well founded. I shrugged and said I didn’t have any idea why he’d ask such a question.
“I can’t figure out how somebody could be stabbed in such a place. There was no telling who would happen down that corridor while the deed was in progress, right?” Lola’s large round eyes flicked between Marcus and me.
With his coffee in hand, Marcus nodded. He said he had to leave and wished Lola a pleasant day. I walked him to the car.
His hand came up to my face and cupped my cheek as he stood next to the open car door.
“I’m glad you’re all right, Vinnie. I know I didn’t say so before, but I mean it.”
“I know, Marcus, but it’s nice to hear you say so.” I leaned toward him and kissed him. He kissed me back and stepped closer. I smiled and that ended that kiss.
“I’ll be by tonight. I have a couple reports to finish later. Then I’m off duty for the next couple of days. I’ll call you.” Marcus kissed me lightly and got into the car.
As he drove away, I headed into the deli and sat in the kitchen with Lola as she stirred a fragrant kettle of soup. It smelled divine. I sniffed the air with appreciation. Mmm. A combination of spices and vegetables. I glanced around the room for a bowl, but Lola said the soup wasn’t ready yet.
“What are you doing later?” she asked.
“I’m headed down to visit with my father. My mother has a meeting, so he asked if I’d stop by.” I kept the reason to myself since I didn’t want Lola to get caught in any lies. She wasn’t as good at lying as I was.
“I have a date with Porter tonight.” She could hardly hold in her excitement. “We’re taking in a show at the Comedy Connection. I could use a good laugh right about now.”
“I hear you.” I wrapped the scarf around my neck and pulled the cloche down over my hair. “Have a great time, and I’ll expect a full report tomorrow.” The tea was gone, and I was ready to trek up the street to my house.
When I stepped inside the warm apartment, I left my outerwear on the kitchen chair and checked for phone messages. I breathed a sigh of relief that nobody had called.
The clock over the fridge had hit four o’clock. It was time to go see my father. I tossed the clothes from the washer into the dryer and set the timer before I left the house. My feet dragged as I headed toward the car.
Chapter 20
Darkness had fallen by the time I arrived at my parents’ house. I parked in the driveway in front of the tiny garage. Soft lighting from the kitchen windows cast warmth across the sweet little deck attached to the Cape Cod style house.
Trudging up the steps of the deck, I sucked in a deep breath. I found it an effort to summon the courage for the oncoming battle.
The door swung open and I marched inside. My bravery might be short-lived, I thought, but at least I attempted it. My father stood at the stove stirring sauce that smelled so heavenly, my taste buds tingled while my mouth watered in anticipation. Dark eyes slanted toward me as he nodded a greeting.
Smile to ward off any bad karma, my internal voice warned me. I tried a smile and my father gave me a half smile in return. So far, so good, I thought.
“That smells wonderful, Dad.” I stepped toward the stove to take a deep sniff of the tantalizing aroma.
“Yeah, wonderful.” The spoon landed with a clink in the glass tray reserved for cooking utensils. He turned to me and motioned toward the table.
Wine glasses sat empty. He filled mine with a rich, dark Burgundy wine from his own stash. His wine glass held ice water. My father didn’t drink alcoholic beverages, but he made wine in his cellar for the rest of us to enjoy.
As I toyed with the glass, he sat down across from me with a hearty sigh.
“Lavinia, tell me what you saw last night at the gallery when Tony was stabbed.” Dad’s eyes didn’t waver. He didn’t blink. His mouth settled into a line that brooked no stories, lies, or half-truths.
I took a hefty swig of the wine and swallowed hard. My eyes traveled the room before they landed on my father, the man who managed to raise my hackles faster than anyone else in my life. The effort it took to breathe was enormous, but I did so, and hoped my anxiety didn’t show.
“I don’t want to argue with you . . .”
“No bullshit, Lavinia. Just answer me, please.” His unibrow wrinkled as he glared at me.
“Fine.” I took another mouthful of wine and started the story of how Tony had been found. As I finished, I said, “I never really saw anything or anyone.”
“When you went to the hospital, what did you see?”
Surprised that he knew that particular fact, I told him what had transpired and hoped that would end the question-and-answer period of our evening.
“How did you know I went to the hospital?”
He shrugged. “I know these things, Lavinia. And I know you.”
Rising from the table, he pulled three plates from the cupboard next to the sink. Silverware rattled as he slid the drawer outward and grabbed what was needed. I stared, but kept my mouth shut. Why three plates? I wondered.
Once the dinnerware was properly placed on the hand-stitched placemats my mother had made, Dad set the food out with an order to get the salad from the fridge.
In a few seconds, dinner sat ready to eat. My father turned toward the living room and said, “You can join us now.”
I glanced around the room. Who the hell was my father talking to? Had I finally driven him over the edge of sanity? Had he lost his marbles? Had I?
My eyes riveted in the direction in which my father had spoken. I heard approaching footsteps that were definitely not those of my mother. I held my breath as Tony Jabroni shuffled into the room. His pasty pallor caused me to inhale sharply. Holy cow . . . he wasn’t dead.
In an instant, I’d jumped from the chair and rushed toward the dead man walking. I found myself babbling about how relieved I was that he hadn’t died after all. I squeezed him and heard a sharp intake of breath. Obviously, I’d hurt him. He stood still in my grasp until I stepped back and apologized for my behavior.
Dark eyes scanned my face, and a small grin curled the corners of his mouth. Tony nodded and moved toward the table with effort.
My father had risen to pull the chair away from the table for the supposed dead man. Once Jabroni had seated himself, my father pushed the chair closer to the table.
“Sit down, Lavinia, so we can eat,” Dad ordered with a nod toward my chair. “The food is going to be cold and you know how I feel about cold pasta.”
Unable to take my eyes off Jabroni, I stumbled to the chair and slid onto the seat. With a silent prayer of thanks that Jabroni had not passed on, I waited for someone to explain. I had, after all, seen him pronounced dead by the doctors.
“Pass Tony the meatballs, Lavinia,” my father ordered.
Numbly, I nodded and did as I was told. Now, that had to be a first.
“Would somebody like to tell me what the hell is going on here?” My impatience had compounded my already overwhelmed curiosity.
“Watch your mouth,” Dad said, as he served pasta to Jabroni.
Still looking at my father, I said, “Sorry, but you have to admit this is quite a surprise for me. I saw this man pronounced dead last night.”
“All in good time.” Dad waved his hand at me. “Now eat your dinner. We’ll talk after.”
Damn, I hate when that happens. I’m an immediate-results kind of person. I have to know the why and wherefore right away. No sidestepping, no nothing. It had always been that way for me.
The meal slid down my throat, but I don’t think I tasted any of it. Instead, I drank too much wine and stared at Jabroni way too long.
“I’m real, Vinnie. I’m not dead,” he said as he stared back at me.
It was as if the two men thought we hadn’t established that fact, and it annoyed the hell out of me.
“Then tell me how that happened. I saw you seriously stabbed on the floor in the gallery last night. I heard the doctor call the time of death. I saw the nurse cover you with a sheet. So how can you still be alive?” I must be stupid . . . or maybe I had lost my marbles. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the mob boss was alive and sitting at the dinner table with me and my father.
“Why are you here? Why aren’t you home with Mrs. J.?
“Enough with the questions, Lavinia.” His words sharp, my father warned me with a severe look.
Jabroni put his hand up to allay any other comments from my father. Dad sat back in the chair, in silence. I leaned my elbows on the table and waited.
“Let’s just say that had I not been smart enough to know I was on borrowed time, I would be dead right now. I want to thank you for acting as quickly as you did. I’m sorry that your friend Lola was so stricken. She had one helluva scare when she found me. I could hear, but couldn’t talk. The pain was bad, real bad. The bastard didn’t have a chance to finish me off though, thanks to Lola. He must have realized she was nearby so he left me there on the floor to die like a dog.”
“Lola was shocked, that’s for sure. I’m glad you didn’t die, though,” I said. “Why didn’t your wife show her face when the doctor said you were dead?”
“She put the hit out on me.” Jabroni stared at me for a moment before he said, “My men got too close to her affairs and she wanted to put an end to their snooping. By killing me, she could do whatever she wanted with all my money, and continue on with her own business without any interference from me.”
“What business would that be?” I asked, but had a suspicion that I knew the answer. It was a wonder I hadn’t made the connection before now.
“Mrs. J., as you call her, has a car theft ring going. She’s been indiscreet and now will be punished for her devious scheme. Had she come to me in the first place, I would have been willing to work things out with her. You know, as a backer of sorts. But she didn’t, and now I’m not so kind-spirited. Especially in light of the fact she tried to have me killed.”
Still unable to grasp what I’d been told, I sat dumbfounded, trying to think my way past the fact that Mrs. J. had likely stolen my car, threatened me, tried to kill her husband, and was a downright rotten person. There was one thing for certain. It was now Mrs. J. who was on borrowed time. I had to get to her before Tony did.
“Was she involved with the murder of Louie-the-Lug?”
Tony’s face took on a sad look. He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a while. The room grew still. I could feel the questions building as my curiosity took hold again.
After a swig of wine, I leaned forward and asked, “Why did she kill him?”
“I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I think he knew what she was up to and was about to tell me. He’d mentioned that we needed to talk upon my return to the house that day. Of course, he was dead when I got there and the place was crawling with your cop buddies.”
“How long has Mrs. J. been in the ‘grand theft’ auto business?”
Jabroni sighed and leaned back in the chair while my father served espresso coffee in demitasse cups. He placed a bottle of Amaretto on the table next to the cups. Jabroni poured a dollop of liquor into the steaming cup and sipped appreciatively.
“For longer than I thought. She was an actress when we met years ago. A beautiful woman then, but age hasn’t been kind, I’m afraid. Anyway, she had all this stage make-up and wigs that she used during performances. When she was on stage, she could play anything from an old crone to a fairy princess. Nobody could tell her age or identify her either. She was good, really good. Disguise is an art form, you know?”
He sipped some more, and my father refilled the tiny cup. “My guys managed to convince the doctor to pronounce me dead, just in case my wife showed up, which she did. That way I could get away from her without another attempt on my life.” He took a breath, grimaced, and said, “By the way, I thought you’d never leave the hospital room last night. I held my breath until I thought I’d pass out. You left and then I heard some scurrying footsteps. You were busy with my guys so probably didn’t see Mrs. J. escape down the hallway.”
Demitasse cups hold about a shot of espresso. I drank mine without adding liquor or sugar. The strong coffee scalded my throat as it went down and burned the pit of my stomach. When my father motioned to pour more, I waved him away with a shake of my head.
“Your guys are big dudes. She must have sneaked by while I was thanking them.” My thoughts turned to my family. “So, why are you hiding here with my parents?”
“I couldn’t go home.” He shrugged with his hands spread open.
“I know, but—”
My father interrupted, glaring at me. “He came here because I asked him to when he called me from the hospital after everyone left. That’s all you need to know.”
I nodded, silently acknowledging the fact that he probably owed Jabroni a favor. Maybe they were lifelong buddies or some crap like that. Hell, who knew why? Not me, that’s for sure. I’d probably never know, and some things are better left that way.
“Does Mom know?” I asked my father.
“Not yet. She will when she gets back tonight. He stayed in the spare room today.”
“That must have been interesting. She swarms over this house like a bee in a hive. How did you keep Mr. J. away from her?”
“Your mother was wrapped up in her meeting agenda all day. This new idea she has for the elderly is a big one. She wanted to make sure she covered every question that might be asked. I listened to her ramble on and on all day. When she looked like she was gonna head into the spare room, I asked her some questions and she was back into her plans again.” He sighed. “It’s been a long day and it ain’t over yet.”
“Does anyone else know you’re alive?” I asked Jabroni and then glanced at my father for a second. Silence lengthened and I realized others knew.
“Who knows?”
Jabroni glanced at my father and then he looked at me. “My men know, that’s it. They don’t like that I’m h
ere and wanted to put me in a house at Bonnet Shores, but I said no. I want to be near my dear wife, so I can keep an eye on her and deal with her effectively.”
What did he mean by effectively? I wondered about that as I tapped my lips with a forefinger. Hmm, was he planning to kill the old witch before I got my car back? Not if I could help it.
“You plan to stay here for a while then?” I asked.
“I’m not sure how long. It depends on your mother,” Jabroni said. “Now, if you were to wait until she got home to smooth the way for me, I’d forever be in your debt.”
That statement said a lot. It meant my mother, the bake sale queen, did not like Tony Jabroni. I wondered why.
My father stared at me for a few minutes before he said, “Your mother and Tony don’t see eye to eye on certain issues. I’d appreciate some help here, Lavinia.”
Good grief, my father actually needed my help. Note it on the calendar as an important moment in history that may never happen again. I used the plea to my advantage.
“Why would you want to harbor a mob boss, Dad?”
A scowl was all I got in return for the question. Jabroni chuckled and I smiled sweetly.
“She has nerve, eh?” Jabroni glanced toward my father.
“You have no idea,” Dad muttered. His glance slanted in my direction at the sound of the car door slamming. “Lavinia, do what you can.”
With a nod, I watched the door open and my mother step into the kitchen. Her coat still buttoned, her hands gloved, a scarf wrapped around her neck, the woman stared at the three of us as though we were Martians. Now, that look has happened to me before, but not from my mother.
The chair slid back as I rose to take the hefty canvas bag from her. Filled to the brim with papers and notebooks, I placed it on the counter and asked how the meeting went. Maybe she hadn’t noticed Jabroni sitting at the table. That would have been too easy, and my life just doesn’t travel the easy lane.
“What is he doing here?” my mother asked with a cold glare moving between me and my father.
“Who?” I asked.