by J. D. Griffo
“This wasn’t random, Jinx,” Freddy said. “This incident is definitely involved with all the crazy goings on surrounding the Tranqclockery.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asked.
“The bomb the person used, it’s a c-lock,” Freddy said. “Spell it out, it’s clock.”
Jinx instantly covered her mouth with her hand so no one could hear her gasp. “Oh my God, Freddy, you’re right. Do you think Owen sent the bomb?”
“If it wasn’t him, it was someone who has a connection to the clock shop,” Freddy said. “And to the illegal document operation.”
“If that’s true, Freddy, you know what this means, right?”
“What?”
“That whoever’s in charge of this whole thing knows we’re getting closer to the truth and they’re getting scared,” Jinx said. “It’s only a matter of time before we solve this mystery, Freddy.”
Her boyfriend didn’t look nearly as optimistic as Jinx did.
“Or it’s only a matter of time before the killer strikes again.”
CHAPTER 20
Guarda oltre ciò che vedi.
Wherever Alberta looked she was surrounded by family. Her living room was no different.
She was sitting on her couch, her feet propped up on the ottoman, drinking a cup of green tea with a dollop of honey like Jinx recommended, with Lola snuggled into a ball resting against her hip. No one else was in the room with her and yet she felt generations of love embrace her as tightly as her father used to when she would hurt herself as a young girl, and after her confirmation ceremony, and even on her wedding day. Alberta knew her father had no idea she had mixed feelings about marrying Sammy; he thought it was a celebration, so she couldn’t hold his exuberance against him. What she held close to her heart was his unconditional love. It’s what she felt about her entire family as she looked around the room.
Unlike Joyce, Alberta was not a minimalist. She wasn’t by any means a hoarder, but she subscribed to the theory that a home should represent the person or people who lived there. Despite her rocky marriage, Alberta was a homebody, a woman who believed in family but who also understood that everyone’s definition of family was different. Like most women her age, her family unit living under one roof had dwindled to one—well, one and a half if Lola was part of the census count—but she considered herself one of the lucky ones to still be in close contact with her family and see them on a regular basis. Even if she didn’t see Jinx, Helen, and Joyce almost daily, she only needed to look on the walls of her living room, the mantel, and the glass-and-brass étagère to see their smiling faces.
On the mantel over the fireplace, which was catty-cornered to the left, near the entrance to the kitchen, were photos of Alberta’s immediate family. Even before Sammy died, she had decided that the shelf life of her wedding photo had expired and it had been relegated to one of the plastic storage boxes in the back of a closet. The photo she chose to display was from her son Rocco’s wedding, because it was one of the rare photos where Alberta and Sammy were both smiling. She didn’t know how much longer she would keep it out and knew it had remained on the mantel primarily out of wifely guilt. With Sloan becoming a more permanent fixture in her life, it might be time that photo joined the others in storage, but for now she left it where it was.
Surrounding that photo was one of Lisa Marie and Tommy at Christmas, another of Rocco and his son, Gregory, on a random fishing trip in California where they lived, Jinx at her college graduation, and Jinx’s brother Sergio’s high school graduation photo.
Across from the couch was Alberta’s television, which was a flat-screen like Joyce’s, but instead of being mounted on the wall it stood on top of the cherrywood media center Alberta bought on sale in 1998. All these years later it still looked brand-new. To the left of the TV was an almost floor-to-ceiling montage of framed photos of Alberta’s parents, grandparents, Helen as a novitiate on the day she became a nun, her brother Anthony and Joyce and their twins, Bobby and Billy, more photos of Jinx, Lisa Marie, Tommy, Rocco, Sergio, various cousins, aunts, and uncles, even two portraits of Lola, one when she first arrived in Alberta’s life as a kitten and the other several years later, fully grown.
Looking at decades of her life captured in photographs, Alberta’s heart broke for Teri Jo. Alberta couldn’t imagine feeling so alone and abandoned that her only recourse, her only viable solution would be to run away and never return home. Despite the misgivings she’d had walking down the aisle to greet Sammy at the altar, her life had turned out fine. Sammy may not have been the best husband in the world, and if Alberta was being completely honest with herself she had not been the best wife, but he provided for her and their family and he never once was physically abusive. He didn’t speak to her the way she dreamed her husband would, sometimes he didn’t speak to her at all, but Alberta didn’t always try to make the relationship work. Their marriage wasn’t a fairy-tale romance because neither one of them were perfect.
Even still, if she had divorced Sammy or run from the church before saying I do, she would have had her family, they would never have abandoned her. But the thought of running away wouldn’t have crossed her mind. Even Viola, her distant cousin, had remained with her family after being publicly humiliated by Marcello. If running away had been an option for her, she never chose it. She knew her life would continue even without the love of her life.
Alberta started to cry, thinking about how lonely Teri Jo must have been all these years, knowing her family was a short drive away, but also knowing that she could never make that journey. Hopefully, she found some solace reconnecting with Veronica, who was most likely her aunt or her cousin. Veronica couldn’t be Teri Jo and Dominic’s mother because she couldn’t have children. Whatever the title, she was Teri Jo’s blood relative, and Alberta desperately wanted to believe that Veronica gave Teri Jo the kind of unconditional love she deserved.
In turn, maybe Teri Jo gave Veronica the same kind of support. How could two women in the same family in two different generations feel so isolated that they both decided their only chance of a good life was to turn their backs on the only life they knew? Then Alberta thought that maybe Teri Jo was inspired by Veronica’s bravery. She most certainly had heard stories of what Veronica—or Bettina, as she was known by the Rizzolis—had done, and instead of considering it blasphemy like most of the Rizzolis assuredly did, Teri Jo perceived it to be a stunning victory. At her darkest moment, Bettina Rizzoli may have saved Theresa Rizzoli’s life by leading by example and giving her the strength to move away.
Or Veronica was simply the one who got Teri Jo killed.
Alberta shook her head and sighed. There was something illegal and deadly going on between the Tranqclockery and Veronica’s Diner, and she was determined to find out what it was. When Joyce called to tell her Umberto had made contact, she knew she was getting much closer to uncovering what that connection was.
This time when the threesome comprised of Alberta, Joyce, and Sloan met, it was in Sloan’s office.
“Close the door, Joyce,” Sloan said as he took the laptop from her.
“Do you think that’s a smart idea, Sloan?” Alberta asked.
“I want to make sure we’re not interrupted,” Sloan said. “I’d rather not have to explain why I’m e-mailing a criminal from my office.”
“At least you’re not using library equipment,” Joyce reminded him. “All of our communication with Umberto has been on my laptop with Liz Gargiulo’s e-mail account.”
“I was only thinking of your reputation,” Alberta said, pulling the extra chair in Sloan’s office around to the other side of the desk, next to his. “One man, two women in his office, that’s how rumors start.”
Sloan smiled and Alberta could tell he was trying to decide if he should answer her sincerely or come up with a quick comeback. Much to her delight, he chose the former.
“Anyone who knows me knows I only have eyes for you, Alberta,” Sloan replied. “Sorry, Joyce.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Joyce said. “I know my place. And it’s right in between the two of you, scoot over.”
Sloan and Alberta shimmied their chairs in opposite directions so Joyce could stand between them. She opened her laptop, booted it up, hit some keys to bring up the fake e-mail account, and then knelt down as she brought up Umberto’s e-mail.
“I got this e-mail this morning,” she conveyed. “Umberto has the documents and told us to meet him in Tranquility, New Jersey, specifically in the alleyway between the Tranqclockery and Veronica’s Diner at midnight tonight.”
“Dio mio!” Alberta cried. “This is solid proof that both Owen and Veronica are somehow involved.”
“But how are they involved?” Sloan asked, his frustration building. “That’s still the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.”
“Once we make contact, maybe we’ll get some answers,” Alberta suggested.
“Speaking of contact,” Joyce interjected. “How exactly are we going to handle the drop-off with Umberto?”
“First of all, there’s no ‘we’ about this,” Sloan stated. “I’m going to meet with Umberto alone.”
“You can’t do that,” Joyce said. “You look nothing like Liz Garguilo.”
“I’ll tell him I’m Liz Garguilo’s husband,” Sloan replied.
“Are you pazzo?” Alberta asked. “You’re crazy if you think we’re letting you meet a murderer at midnight, alone.”
“Well you’re pazzo if you think I’m going to let you or any of your detective troupe put themselves in danger by meeting this psycho in the dark!” Sloan exclaimed.
Alberta was not at all offended by the harsh tone of Sloan’s voice. On the contrary, she was amused. She admitted to herself that she liked this side of Sloan. Normally, he was mild-mannered and gentlemanly, but he was passionate, and every once in a while that passion bubbled up to the surface and exploded. It was different from the way Sammy yelled. His voice had been filled with anger and irritation, he had wanted to win an argument regardless of how it made Alberta feel. Sloan was protecting her, and within his yelling there was always compromise. There was also an incorrect use of Italian grammar. As a woman she couldn’t be pazzo, but pazza. However, Alberta didn’t think it was the appropriate time to point that out. Now was the time for compromise, not a lecture.
“You can meet Umberto alone if we get to drive the getaway car,” Alberta said. “It has become Helen’s forte, after all.”
For a few moments they were at a standstill, no one moving or changing their expression to give away what they were thinking, until Sloan extended his hand to Alberta so they could shake on it.
“Deal,” Sloan said as if he had just finalized a business transaction.
“Deal,” Alberta agreed. “Now all that’s left to do is wait.”
“I know you’re not going to like this, but I think there’s something else we should do,” Joyce said. “I think it’s time we told Vinny what we know and what we’re about to do.”
“Normally I would agree with you, Joyce,” Sloan said. “But Umberto is savvy, he’s going to know if the police are lurking around, ready to nab him. I think in this instance we need to go rogue for the time being. Once we have the proof of the illegal documents in hand, then we turn it all over to the police for them to catch him.”
“Do you think they’ll be able to do that, Sloan?” Alberta asked.
“Of course. Look how easy it was for us to fish him out,” Sloan said. “Let’s focus on collecting the evidence and then the police can focus on bringing this malfatorre to justice.”
Alberta sighed deeply. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried, but I agree with Sloan—no police.”
“You’re right,” Joyce said. “It’s risky, but it’s really the only way to move forward. Who knows? Maybe Umberto isn’t so bad after all.”
“Joyce! How can you say that?” Alberta asked. “He’s a murderer.”
“Don’t you remember The Godfather? They all have a code of ethics,” Joyce declared. “So far Umberto has responded to us in a timely fashion, he’s giving us the documents we want within the aforementioned time frame, and also too, he thanked us for the money and even signed his e-mail, Cheers, Umberto.”
“He is awfully polite for a criminal,” Alberta noted.
“You cannot judge a book by its rap sheet, Berta,” Joyce said.
A person also couldn’t be judged by their age. Alberta, Helen, Joyce, and even Sloan were not in what would generally be considered the prime of their lives. They were in their golden years, and as such were expected to act in a certain way. No one would expect them to be sitting in Helen’s Buick a block away from the Tranqclockery, waiting for the stroke of midnight when Sloan would enter an alleyway to meet a hardened criminal. It wasn’t something old folks did. This group did not comprise typical old folk.
Two blocks away on the other side of the Tranqclockery, Jinx and Freddy were parked in her red Chevy Cruze. The plan was for them to follow Umberto once he left his clandestine meeting with Sloan. By having cars on either side of the drop-off point, they hoped that Umberto wouldn’t be able to get away and they’d track him back to his home base. They wouldn’t go inside to apprehend him, that would be a fool’s errand, but they would call Vinny and keep lookout to make sure Umberto didn’t escape before the police arrived to arrest him. It was a sound plan, but they had learned from previous experience that very few plans actually go as planned.
In the back seat of the Buick, Sloan looked at his watch and said, “The witching hour is upon us, ladies.”
Alberta, sitting next to him, and Helen and Joyce in the front seat, all looked at their watches and saw that it was five minutes to midnight. The time had come for Sloan’s rendezvous.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Alberta asked.
Sloan could see fear in Alberta’s eyes and the sight made him catch his breath. “Don’t you worry about me,” he said, making sure he kept all trace of doubt and apprehension out of his voice. “This is going to be over in a few minutes. Even if he refuses to give Liz Garguilo’s husband the documents and leaves, Jinx and Freddy will be right behind him. Once he’s caught we can put this mystery behind us and get back to more important things.”
“Like what?” Alberta asked.
“Like you and me,” Sloan replied.
Sloan held Alberta’s face with his hands and felt her warmth. He kissed her softly, then firmly, and she kissed him back with equal measures of surprise and concern. She almost felt like she was seeing her beau off to war.
As quietly as possible, Sloan got out of the car and walked down the block. He didn’t look back, but that wasn’t because he didn’t want to steal another glance at Alberta. On the off chance that Umberto was watching him, Sloan didn’t want to give Umberto a hint that he wasn’t traveling solo.
“Are you alright back there?” Helen asked.
Lying, Alberta replied, “I’m fine.” She wiped away some tears with a stray tissue she found in her jacket pocket and continued, “No, I’m not fine at all. This is insane. We can’t let Sloan go in that alleyway by himself, what if this is a trap?”
“Then Sloan’s about to become the sacrificial lamb,” Helen said.
“We have to follow him,” Alberta ordered. “We have to be his backup.”
“Okay, I’ll drive up slowly and maybe he won’t notice us,” Helen said.
Just as she was about to turn the key in the ignition, Joyce grabbed her hand. “No, Umberto will hear the car and if he does, who knows how he’ll respond?” she said. “We need to do this on foot.”
The three women got out of the Buick, closing the doors as quietly as they could, and then scurried down the block huddled together like one oversized pedestrian taking a late night stroll.
Joyce had to walk on her toes so her heels didn’t make noise on the sidewalk, and when possible they stepped on patches of grass to silence their footsteps. Finally, they came to the entran
ce of the alleyway. They stopped and got into a position so they could all peek out around the wall to see what was happening at the same time. Helen crouched down as low as she could, Alberta straddled her and bent over, and Joyce, the tallest, held on to Alberta’s back and leaned forward. It was a miracle not one of them gasped out loud when they looked down the alleyway and saw Sloan and Umberto face-to-face.
The lights from the diner and the Tranqclockery shone in the distance, so it brought some illumination into the alley, but it was still quite dark. Both businesses were closed—the diner used to stay open into the early morning hours to cater to the late-night crowd, but ever since the multiple murders that plagued it, business had dropped so badly that it no longer made sense to stay open after the dinner rush dissipated.
The women couldn’t see Umberto clearly and if he had looked past Sloan, it was doubtful that he would have seen their faces, one on top of the other. It was more realistic that they would appear to be shadows or even the back of a sign protruding out from the wall. Unfortunately, his actions told them that he didn’t care if he was being observed or not.
The first swing was so unexpected and swift that if Sloan hadn’t stumbled to the right, the women would have thought a bird flew by or one of the lights in the distance flickered. When Umberto struck Sloan a second time, this time with a punch right across his face that made him careen into the side of the Tranqclockery before crashing to the gravelly ground, they knew what they were witnessing: They were watching someone they loved be attacked.
“NO!”
Alberta’s cry raced down the alleyway, and the way Umberto looked up from his victim to the voice in the darkness, they knew he hadn’t noticed them before. He was caught off guard and the women hoped to use it to their advantage.
Without any thought for their own safety, Alberta, Helen, and Joyce charged down the alley, screaming as loud as they could. They each knew they were no physical match for Umberto, but they also knew they were not going to allow him to lay another hand on Sloan. They had no idea what they were going to do when they came face-to-face with Umberto; they would think about that when the moment arrived. It never did.
