Murder at Veronica's Diner

by J. D. Griffo

  The women quickly hightailed it from the front steps of Owen’s store to the alleyway that separated the Tranqclockery from Veronica’s Diner, and found the titular owner staring at her phone and pacing the short distance from the one building to the other. She was so engrossed in whatever she was reading on her phone she didn’t even hear the women until Helen coughed, unnecessarily, but loudly.

  “Oh for Chrissake, you startled me!” Veronica cried.

  “We’re so sorry, Veronica,” Alberta said. “We were heading into the diner and we saw you pacing back and forth. Is something wrong?”

  Veronica stared at Alberta as if she had just asked the owner of the Titanic if there was a leak.

  “You mean is something else wrong,” Veronica clarified. “Because ever since Teri Jo was found murdered in my diner, something has gone wrong every single day. If it isn’t the plumbing, it’s the fact that I have no customers, or sometimes it’s a dead body lying on the floor in the men’s room.”

  “What’s the problem du jour?” Helen inquired.

  “Your granddaughter!” Veronica shouted, waving her cell phone wildly in her hand.

  “What?”

  Even though Alberta and Helen both knew Veronica must be talking about the article Jinx had written and she wasn’t referring to something terrible Jinx had done to Veronica directly, the fact that someone was accusing Jinx of any kind of wrongdoing made them immediately engage in defense mode. They might be women of a certain age, but they were also women of a certain mindset. Being members of a close-knit Italian family, they were not inclined to let anyone get away with accusing one of their own of doing something wrong. They could say whatever they wanted about a family member, but no one outside of the family had that same privilege.

  “What are you insinuating about Jinx, Veronica?” Alberta asked.

  “No, not her, the article she wrote,” Veronica said, her voice much less angry and accusatory. “Didn’t you read it?”

  Of course they’d read it. They had memorized every word. Jinx wrote that another woman had been murdered in the same way that Teri Jo and the unidentified man were. She identified the woman as Inez Rosales, but didn’t reveal any information about the illegal documents she found so she could use that for a follow-up. Indulging in a bit of fanciful writing, Jinx had included the line, Ticktock, ticktock. Time is running out because the police are close to solving the murders.

  They had all expected Vinny would be upset with such exaggerated prose, but they did not expect Veronica to be so furious. When she explained the reason behind her anger, they realized the woman was justified.

  “Now my diner is officially linked to three murders,” Veronica said. “How many orders of eggs Benedict do you think I’ll be able to sell with that kind of publicity?”

  Thankfully, Veronica’s cell phone rang before Helen was able to reply.

  Then again, the way Veronica was grimacing and grabbing at her hair in response to whatever the person on the other end of the call was saying, it might have been better if Helen had been able to speak. When Veronica pressed a button on her phone to end the call, she muttered something under her breath that was not a phrase that should be spoken in public.

  “I’m guessing that was more bad news,” Alberta said.

  “That was Vinny,” Veronica shared. “In light of this third murder, I need to go down to the police station to answer some questions about Inez Rosales. I don’t even know who this woman is, but she’s helping make my life a living hell!”

  “You need to calm down, Veronica,” Alberta said. “Tell us what we can do to help.”

  “Take over the diner for me!” she exclaimed.

  Alberta had meant what she said. She did want to help the woman and while it was true that she had enough money to buy the diner, she had no desire to become an entrepreneur at her age.

  “I think it’s too early to be thinking about selling the place,” Alberta said. “This whole ‘getting stabbed in the back’ thing really is going to blow over.”

  “I’m not asking you to buy the place, just run it for a few hours while I’m at the police station,” Veronica explained. “Luis is in the kitchen, but I don’t have anyone to run the front or wait tables. If the two of you could do that while I’m gone, that would save me from having to close up.”

  “Does a free breakfast come with it?” Helen asked.

  “Helen!” Alberta cried. “The woman needs our help.”

  “And I’m hungry!” Helen cried back.

  “You can have Luis make you whatever you want,” Veronica assured her. “Including his famous eggs Benedict with my secret recipe. But no, I’m not sharing that. I’d rather close up for the week than give that away.”

  “I completely understand,” Alberta said. “Some secrets were meant to stay secret. Now you go, your diner’s in good hands.”

  Which it was for about an hour, until they had an unexpected customer who didn’t want to order anything from the menu. All he wanted was Veronica.

  “I’m sorry, but she isn’t here,” Alberta told the man. “She had to run some errands and I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”

  “Look, I don’t have time to wait for her. I have to get back to work,” he said. “I’m the plumber who fixed her bathroom the other day. I’ve been fixing everybody’s, but I forgot to take back the certificate I gave Veronica after she signed it, and my boss’ll kill me if I don’t give it to him. He’s got to submit them all to the town this afternoon so we can wrap up this job.”

  Alberta quickly assessed the man and determined he was telling the truth. He was just trying to do his job; the least she could do was help. “Let me see if I can get her on the phone and ask her where she put it.”

  “I know where she put it, right in her little office back there,” the man said. “I saw her put it in the drawer with the bill I gave her. She handed me the check with the signed invoice and I didn’t realize the certificate wasn’t included with the papers until I got back to work.”

  She looked over to the right to a small room, no larger than a closet, between the ladies’ room and the kitchen. The door, which Alberta hadn’t noticed was open, revealed nothing more than a desk, a chair, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with books and files. Alberta knew that snooping around Veronica’s personal items was inappropriate, but her detective instincts had been ignited and there was no way she was going to pass up the opportunity to scour through the mysterious diner owner’s private office. Plus, she reminded herself, she was going to help out the nice plumber who would otherwise get into trouble, maybe even get fired. There was no way she was going to risk that.

  “Which drawer did you say it was?” Alberta queried.

  “The top one on the left,” the plumber replied.

  “Wait right here,” Alberta said.

  As nonchalantly as possible, Alberta went into the office, making sure Luis was busy in the kitchen cooking up an order and Helen was serving coffee to the young couple who had walked in seconds before the plumber. She opened the drawer, and just as the man said, the certificate was there. She picked it up and noticed it wasn’t the only important item in the drawer.

  Underneath the certificate and a small stack of papers was a manila envelope, the same standard style and size as the one that tumbled out of the clock. Curious, Alberta pulled it from the pile and was rewarded for her effort when she saw that this envelope was labeled PERSONAL AND CONFIDENTIAL. Alberta only hesitated a moment before taking the envelope out of the drawer along with the certificate. Closing the drawer, she returned to the counter and handed the certificate to the man, while simultaneously placing the envelope on a stack of upturned glasses underneath the counter.

  “Ma’am, you are a godsend,” the plumber replied.

  Startled by his word choice in light of her most recent action, Alberta said, “Not everyone would agree with that, but I’ll still take the compliment.”

  She watched the man leave the diner, and while H
elen was socializing with the patrons, relishing her temporary role as waitress, Alberta used a knife to cut through the tape that sealed the envelope. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. A few years ago she would never have violated someone’s privacy this way; she would consider it to fall in that tempting chasm that lies between a venial and a mortal sin. Now, with the heat in her gut expanding, she knew she had no choice but to find out what Veronica was trying to hide.

  When she saw the name that was on the social security card, the driver’s license, and the passport that fell out of the envelope, she realized that Veronica Andrews wasn’t trying to keep a secret, but someone named Bettina Rizzoli was.

  Rizzoli? Alberta gasped out loud when she made the connection. Veronica wasn’t upset because Teri Jo and Dominic were murdered in her diner; she was upset because they were part of her family.

  CHAPTER 17

  È tempo di spezzare il pane con il nemico.

  When Alberta saw Veronica walk through the front door, she felt like she was six years old and her grandmother Marie caught her stealing an extra Italian wedding cookie from the jar on her kitchen counter that was always chock-full of Marie’s homemade sweets.

  Helen, however, was firmly planted in the present. “How’s about that free grub?” she queried. “I’m having a craving for Luis’s huevos rancheros.”

  “No eggs Benedict today?” Veronica asked, setting her purse down on the counter.

  “I think it’s time to spice things up,” Helen said.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Veronica replied. “I don’t see any broken dishes, so did everything go smoothly?”

  “Like Adam and Eve on a raft,” Helen replied, referring to the well-known diner slang waitresses use to refer to two eggs on toast.

  Veronica laughed so genuinely it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Thank you, Helen, thanks to both of you,” she said.

  She reached out and grabbed both Helen and Alberta by the hand. Alberta watched her sister willingly accept Veronica’s touch, but for her it was like jabbing her finger into an electric socket.

  “It’s nice to know that I still do have some friends in this town,” Veronica confessed. “After spending a few hours in the chief of police’s office being grilled so he could make some connection between the murders that took place here and the murder of that poor Rosales woman, I was starting to get the feeling that maybe I should pack up and leave. But you two remind me that this really is my home.”

  “Take it from someone who’s only recently had a home of her own,” Helen said. “Home is where the heart is. And your heart is right here in this diner. So what do you say you order me up some breakfast?”

  “We don’t have time, Helen,” Alberta blurted. “I’m so sorry, Veronica, but we need to leave.”

  “I completely understand,” Veronica replied. “You didn’t expect to have to spend your morning working.”

  “We actually had fun,” Alberta fibbed. “It was good to help out a friend.”

  As Alberta took off her apron and folded it, she made sure she gave Helen a look that hopefully told her to keep her mouth shut and follow her lead. Family loyalty won out over hunger, and Helen acted like the obedient sister and remained quiet until they were in her car.

  “What’s going on, Berta?” Helen asked as she turned the key in the ignition. “I worked hard for that free breakfast.”

  “I’ll buy you dinner. Just drive me home and I’ll explain everything,” Alberta replied.

  As Helen drove the Buick out of the parking lot, Alberta called Jinx, telling her to leave work and meet them at her house. She then called Joyce and told her to stop whatever she was doing and take the same action. Unfortunately, while Jinx could easily slip out of her office to claim she needed to follow up on a clue or catch an elusive interview subject off guard to snag a quote, Joyce didn’t have as flexible a schedule.

  “What do you mean, you can’t leave?” Alberta asked. “You’re retired, you can do what you want.”

  “Is she in the middle of another painting?” Helen inquired, speaking in a very loud voice to ensure Joyce heard her on the other end of the line. “Tell her Memory Lake will be there tomorrow, it ain’t going anywhere.”

  “Tell Helen I’m not painting today,” Joyce replied. “I’m dog-sitting.”

  “Dog-sitting?” Alberta cried. “Whose dog are you watching?”

  “Tambra’s. I bumped into her while I was shopping at The Clothes Horse, you know that vintage shop we love,” Joyce replied. “She had to go to Trenton to testify against those import/export people she and Vinny arrested, and her usual dog-sitter is sick with the flu. She mentioned she was going to have to put Buster in one of those kennels for the day and I told her I could watch him.”

  “That’s so nice of you, Joyce,” Alberta said. “Could you be even nicer and host an impromptu meeting? I stumbled upon a new clue I have to share with everyone.”

  “Absolutely, come on over,” Joyce said. “But bring food if you’re hungry. You know my fridge isn’t nearly as stocked as yours.”

  “I’ll pick up some pastries and we’ll be right over,” Alberta said.

  Just as she was about to end the call, Helen shouted, “Is Buster people friendly?”

  “He’s the sweetest boy,” Joyce said. “He’s a boxer, so he looks tough, but he’s a softie.”

  “Buster, the boxer?” Helen said, contemplating the image. “I know him. He was at the animal hospital after he was found abandoned near the highway. I didn’t know Tambra took him in.”

  “Then it’ll be a reunion!” Joyce squealed. “Hurry up, ladies, I’m putting the coffee on.”

  On their way to the bakery, Alberta texted Jinx to inform her of the change in location, and when she and Helen arrived at Joyce’s with two bags filled with assorted fresh pastries, Jinx was already on the floor playing tug-of-war with Buster. When the dog saw Helen he dropped the thick piece of rope he was biting and scrambled to greet his old friend.

  “Well, hello, Buster,” Helen said, kneeling on the floor to accept Buster’s loving embrace. “I wondered where you got to.”

  Helen giggled as Buster licked her face with his wet tongue and whimpered, clearly excited to see a familiar face. The other three women, Alberta especially, were shocked at seeing such an open display of affection from their normally ornery relative, and while they all had the urge to make a joke or a snide comment about Helen’s unusual though thoroughly refreshing behavior, they all knew they would be ruining the experience. Not every moment needed commentary, some only needed to be witnessed.

  The moment Alberta witnessed Veronica’s true identity, however, demanded commentary. As well as some colorful language compliments of Alberta.

  “Bugiarda! Imitazione! È la peggior cuoca in città!”

  Completely perplexed, Jinx silently vowed to amp up her Italian language lessons and turned to Joyce with a silent but physically animated expression that could only be translated into one word: Help!

  “Liar, fake, also too, the worst cook in town,” Joyce said.

  “I cannot believe that woman has been masquerading as a poor victim, traipsing around town acting like she’s some innocent bystander who got caught in the crossfire, when she’s been involved with these murders from the very beginning,” Alberta cried.

  “I can’t believe you don’t have half-’n’-half,” Helen said. “What kind of a household are you running here, Joyce? This kitchen looks like Berta’s, but it isn’t nearly as inviting.”

  The layout of Joyce’s house was almost identical to Alberta’s Cape Cod, except Joyce’s décor was more modern and the colors tended to lean to more subdued, natural hues like beige and gray, with pops of navy, deep charcoal, and in the kitchen, hunter green, which Joyce loved because it brought a little bit of the lush outside landscape into the house.

  Rushing to the refrigerator, Joyce pulled out a carton of half-’n’-half that had been hidden from view and placed it in
front of Helen. Now that she solved that mystery for one sister-in-law, she needed her other sister-in-law to shed light on the other mystery that had brought them all together unexpectedly.

  “Berta, do you have proof that Veronica isn’t really Veronica?” Joyce asked.

  Taking out her cell phone, Alberta told the women to gather around her. They formed a semicircle behind her, with Buster scurrying next to Helen and placing his paws on the kitchen table to get a closer look at what the others found so interesting.

  Alberta showed them the photos she took of the incriminating documents she discovered in Veronica’s office. The social security card, followed by the driver’s license, and then the passport, all attributed to Bettina Rizzoli, showing photos of Veronica.

  “I knew that woman was lying ever since she told us she was married,” Helen said. “Teri Jo said she never had a husband and if they’re related, she would know.”

  “But how are they related?” Jinx asked. “Do you think Veronica was their mother?”

  The three older women all answered with the same single word, “No.”

  Surprised by their quick and unified response, Jinx pressed on. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Lovey, no mother on this planet could sit quietly by after finding out her two children were murdered,” Alberta replied. “I haven’t spoken to your mother in years, but if I. . . God forbid . . . found out something bad happened to her, there’s no way I could sit idly by and do nothing.”

  At the mention of Jinx’s mother, the room grew awkwardly silent for a few moments. It wasn’t that the air was filled with tension, but with emotion. Everyone had strong feelings about the disintegration of the relationship between Alberta and Lisa Marie, but everyone knew now was not the time to discuss that relationship. They needed to focus on finding out what kind of relationship Veronica, as Bettina, had with the murdered twins.

  “There’s absolutely nothing on the Internet. I can’t find out if Bettina Rizzoli is Theresa and Dominic’s mother, big sister, aunt, or a distant cousin,” Jinx announced. “It’s like Bettina Rizzoli has been wiped clean from the web.”