Murder at Veronica's Diner

by J. D. Griffo

  But it wasn’t always so easy being right.

  When Alberta got to the waiting room she saw that Jinx and Joyce were already there, sitting and drinking coffee out of paper cups.

  “I don’t know why everyone always complains about the coffee in hospitals,” Jinx said. “This isn’t so bad.”

  “Also too, the machine has nondairy creamer so I’m having a little hazelnut this morning,” Joyce added.

  “I’m happy to see that you two are having a grand old time here at good ole St. Clare’s,” Alberta joked.

  “You make do with what you got, Berta,” Joyce said. “And before you ask, Sloan is fine. They gave him a sedative so he could sleep, but all his tests came back normal. There’s no cause for alarm.”

  “Thank you,” Alberta replied. “I kind of knew that from last night, or I guess it was early this morning. Anyway, as they were wheeling Sloan out, he gave me the peace sign. He wasn’t able to speak, but he wanted me to know he was okay.”

  Jinx and Joyce looked at each other with expressions that clearly disagreed with Alberta’s interpretation of Sloan’s attempt at sign language.

  “You mean this sign, Gram?” Jinx asked, holding up her index and middle fingers to create a V.

  “Yes, exactly,” Alberta confirmed. “The peace sign, V for victory.”

  “Or V for Veronica,” Joyce said.

  “Ah Madon! I am a stunod!” Alberta cried. “How could I not have made that connection?”

  “Cut yourself some slack, Gram, you were worried sick about Sloan,” Jinx said. “You were praying for a sign that he was okay and you thought you got one.”

  “But I thought wrong!” Alberta cried. “Maybe he was trying to tell me something about Veronica.”

  “He was attacked in the alleyway, which is right outside of the diner,” Joyce pointed out.

  “What could Sloan have been trying to tell me?” Alberta asked. “We saw Umberto attack Sloan. Veronica had nothing to do with that.”

  “She might not have been the one throwing the punches, but she could very well be the one pulling the strings,” Jinx said. “I don’t know exactly what role Veronica is playing in this whole illegal-document operation, but she is definitely not an innocent bystander.”

  “We need to figure out how not-so-innocent she is,” Joyce said.

  “Or we need to find out how guilty Umberto is,” Alberta replied. “He looks dangerous, we keep hearing that he’s dangerous, but just how dangerous is he? I mean, what has he truly done?”

  “Do you think it’s time to bring Vinny in on what we know?” Joyce asked. “If Umberto is a criminal, he’s got to be in the police system. Vinny could probably answer our questions in a few minutes.”

  “Not before he asks a ton of questions of his own,” Jinx said. “Along with a very stern lecture about a woman knowing her place and maybe a thing or two about sidestepping the law.”

  Immediately, Alberta was reminded of her conversation with Helen a few hours ago. The age-old story of men thinking they knew what was best for women. Whether their misogynistic monologues stemmed from a place that simply wanted to protect the women in their lives, or control them, Alberta didn’t know. It was a complicated issue. As with many complicated issues, a resolution was simple. A woman needed to take action and make a stand.

  “There’s no need to ask Vinny for help when Jinx has the resources to find out about Umberto’s criminal past at her disposal,” Alberta announced. “That’s right, lovey, isn’t it?”

  “One hundred percent. Let me do some digging at work, which I’m late for,” Jinx said, looking at the clock on the wall. “I’ll call you later.”

  As Jinx dashed out of the waiting room, her long black hair bouncing with each step, another woman entered the room. She looked like Jinx’s photo negative. She had the same long, wavy hair, but hers was platinum blond. Being somewhat of an expert on hair coloring, Alberta could tell that this woman’s hair color was natural. Coming from a southern Italian family, almost every one of Alberta’s relatives had black or dark brown hair. The only member of her very large family tree to be a true blonde was her third cousin Nicolletta, and rumor had it that her father was actually a Norwegian businessman on holiday, so she didn’t really count. Alberta had no clue if blondes had more fun, but for her, they were always persons of interest.

  This blonde was more interesting because she was also a doctor.

  “Are you Alberta Scaglione?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Alberta replied as she and Joyce stood up. “Are you one of Sloan’s doctors?”

  “Yes, I’m Doctor Manzini, Kylie for short,” she replied.

  “I thought I looked odd for an Italian,” Joyce said, “but you look downright Scandinavian.”

  “That’s because I am,” Kylie confirmed. “My father was born in Oslo.”

  For a moment Alberta wanted to ask Kylie if her father had been a traveling salesman who made house calls, but Alberta didn’t think she could stand the shock of finding out that her family tree was even larger than she originally thought. Best to deal with the matter at hand: Sloan.

  “Is he alright?” Alberta asked.

  “He’s had a minor setback,” Kylie informed.

  “What?” Alberta asked. “How minor?”

  “He has an infection from his wound, but it’s nothing to be alarmed about, I promise you,” Kylie assured her. “We have it under control, but it means that he’s going to be under sedation for a few more hours, so you might want to take a break and come back later this afternoon.”

  “If you think it’s best,” Alberta said.

  “I do,” Kylie replied. “He’s going to sleep the day away.”

  “I guess we might as well go then,” Alberta said. She looked at Joyce and they started to turn to go, when Alberta abruptly turned around and called after the doctor, “I almost forgot, were you able to contact Sloan’s daughter?”

  “Not yet,” Kylie said. “I did receive an out-of-office e-mail from her though. She’s apparently with her family on an African safari, so it might be a few days before I hear from her.”

  “Sloan did mention that Shannon was a globetrotter,” Alberta replied.

  “I’m sure once she hears how attentive you’ve been, she’ll be grateful her father wasn’t alone,” Kylie said.

  Alberta wasn’t sure if Shannon and her family would be so grateful to find out why she and Sloan were together at the time of the incident, but she thought it best to keep her mouth shut about that.

  As Joyce drove them to have lunch at any restaurant other than Veronica’s Diner, she couldn’t help but ask more questions about Sloan’s family.

  “Are you planning to meet with Shannon?” Joyce asked.

  “I’m sure I will whenever she’s able to get here. I’d love to get to know her better. Sloan adores her, and from what I’ve gathered, she feels the same way about him,” Alberta replied. “Which reminds me, I finally spoke with Rocco last night. Can you believe it’s been almost six months since I heard his voice?”

  “How’s he doing?” Joyce asked.

  “I think he’s back to his old self,” Alberta replied. “It took him a long time to get over the divorce and Annmarie has not been a very good ex-wife.”

  “Is the new wife any better?” Joyce asked.

  “Rocco said Cecilia is the best thing that ever happened to him,” Alberta said. “And he adores Gregory. They go fishing, they play ball, just last week Rocco took him to the natural history museum to see the dinosaurs. He’s made some mistakes, my Rocco, but he’s a good man.”

  “Yes, he is. And so is Sloan McLelland,” Joyce stated. “Sloan picked a good woman too.”

  “Oh shush,” Alberta said, playfully slapping Joyce’s arm. “I just wish I wasn’t going to meet Sloan’s family under such unpleasant circumstances.”

  “Speaking of unpleasant,” Joyce said. “I’ve been thinking about Scarface or Umberto or whatever his name is, and I agree that he’s most likely th
e killer. But if the illegal-document operation is somehow tied to Third Wheel, Inc., that means the Rizzoli family is involved.”

  “You really can connect the dots, can’t you?” Alberta observed.

  “It comes from years of trying to predict the unpredictable stock market,” Joyce explained.

  “If what you say is true, the Rizzolis are a lot more ruthless than we thought,” Alberta said.

  “Do you think they could have put a hit out on members of their own family and hired Umberto to kill Teri Jo and Dominic?” Joyce questioned. “I’ve heard of cold-blooded before, but that’s glacial.”

  Looking at the scenery passing by her from the passenger seat of Joyce’s car, Alberta wondered if such a scenario could be possible. Not every family is a group of individuals who love, support, and protect each other. Even her own immediate family was broken and splintered. But she couldn’t imagine that her own daughter, at the height of her fury with Alberta, would ever entertain the idea of killing her. Such things were the tales of fiction and not reality. Yet, Alberta had learned recently that the truth could be very strange indeed.

  “Anything is possible, Joyce,” Alberta admitted. “I’m starting to believe that those twins were killed by their family’s own hands. That they hired Umberto to do the unthinkable.”

  Alberta might have thought that, but she would be wrong.

  Her phone buzzed and she saw that the caller was Jinx. “Do you think Jinx got dirt on Umberto’s past already?”

  “Don’t ask me, ask her,” Joyce advised.

  “Lovey, what did you find out?” Alberta asked, putting the phone on speaker so Joyce could hear the conversation as well.

  “Are you sitting down, Gram?”

  “Yes, I’m in the car.”

  “Are you driving?” Jinx asked. “You may want to pull over for this.”

  “No, Joyce is driving.”

  “Good, you don’t need to stop then.”

  “Why does Joyce get to keep driving, when you wanted me to pull over?” Alberta asked.

  “Because Joyce handles bombshells better than you do, Gram.”

  “She’s right about that, Berta,” Joyce said.

  “Not for nothing, but I am very good under pressure,” Alberta protested.

  “We can agree to disagree,” Joyce interrupted. “Can we please let Jinx speak so she can tell us what she found out about Umberto?”

  “Fine,” Alberta said, clearly not fine. “How hardened a criminal is he?”

  “Hard as the cement blocks he’s tied to the feet of whistleblowers before he’s dumped them in the river,” Jinx announced.

  “Dio mio!” Alberta and Joyce exclaimed, one scream louder than the other.

  “He’s also been arrested for arson, breaking and entering, grand theft auto, and he owes thousands in parking violations,” Jinx conveyed.

  “Those tickets really do add up,” Alberta said.

  “Focus, Gram!” Jinx cried. “Umberto has a seriously long and violent rap sheet.”

  “So that proves he’s our killer,” Alberta declared.

  “We were right all along,” Joyce added.

  “Wrong!” Jinx cried. “There’s no way that Umberto killed anyone. Not Teri Jo, not Dominic, not even Inez.”

  “Lovey, you’re not making sense,” Alberta said. “You gave us the profile of a serial killer.”

  “Who’s serving a very long sentence for his crimes,” Jinx said. “Umberto Bottataglia can’t be our killer because he’s been in jail for the past two months.”

  CHAPTER 22

  L’unico crimine che vale la pena commettere è un crimine di passione.

  Alberta never imagined she would one day go to prison, but that’s exactly what she and Jinx were planning to do. While other grandmothers and granddaughters would set up lunch dates or take in a matinee, Alberta and Jinx scheduled a trip to Riker’s Island. For them as investigators it was inevitable; for others, like their loved ones, it was downright frightening.

  Holding Lola in her lap and letting her cat lick some cannoli custard off her fingers, Alberta sat at her kitchen table and listened while Freddy tried to persuade Jinx to rethink her decision to make such a dangerous trip.

  “Since Sloan is still unconscious, I’m speaking for him as well,” Freddy said. “You ladies are out of your minds.”

  “Freddy, I know you’re concerned, but what other choice do we have?” Jinx asked.

  “Stay home and let Vinny and his police force handle this,” Freddy replied. “Those people are trained to deal with crazy, homicidal inmates. What are you and your grandmother going to do? Bring Umberto a tray of lasagna?”

  “Now, that is a smart idea!” Alberta said. “The best way to a man is through his stomach. It’s a cliché because it’s true.”

  “You can’t bring food to Riker’s Island,” Helen said. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

  “Dude! I mean, Aunt Helen! You’ve been to Riker’s Island?” Freddy asked.

  “Many times. I was part of a group made up of nuns, some clergy, social workers, and politicians that visited inmates who were preparing for release,” she explained. “I mainly met with women who had made some really bad choices, and I tried to help them figure out how to survive in the real world.”

  “That’s amazing!” Freddy squealed. “I had no idea you had such street cred.”

  “Where do you think the rest of them get their chutzpah from?” Helen asked. “It all starts with the nuns, Freddy, remember that.”

  “Chutzpah actually started with the rabbis,” Joyce corrected. “It’s a Hebrew word and its original meaning isn’t as complimentary as it is today or by American standards.”

  “Chutzpah means something different in Hebrew?” Alberta asked.

  “Most certainly,” Joyce replied. “It means overstepping your boundaries, acting in a morally unacceptable way, and describes a person who lacks total common sense.”

  “That doesn’t sound like something the nuns would approve of, Helen,” Alberta said.

  “They’re an evolving group, Berta,” Helen said. “Regardless of the word’s origin, in this country it means having the guts and courage to practice what you preach. You want to solve this crime? You have to make an appointment with Umberto.”

  “Unfortunately, Umberto’s ability to receive guests is strictly limited,” Joyce said.

  “Luckily, Aunt Helen’s already been a guest at Riker’s, so she’s going to show us the ropes,” Jinx declared. “Doesn’t that make you feel better, Freddy?”

  “As strange as it sounds, it does,” Freddy replied, shoving an éclair in his mouth. “With Aunt Helen acting as your very own tour guide, what could possibly go wrong?”

  The only reason Freddy was able to believe such a statement was because he had never visited a prison before. And Riker’s Island made the cells at the Tranquility police station resemble a country club in comparison. As New York City’s main correctional facility, Riker’s was located on a four-hundred-acre island between Queens and the Bronx and housed more than ten thousand prisoners. Thousands more people worked there to run the place, and thousands more visited each day.

  Helen explained that getting to Riker’s Island was no picnic. First they had to drive from Tranquility to Queens, New York, which would be about a two-hour trip. Then they had to catch the Q100 bus, which would take them over the Riker’s Island Bridge, which was the only way to get to the prison complex, and then deal with the myriad checkpoints and security procedures all visitors had to endure. She also prepared them for the smell.

  Since Riker’s was built over a giant landfill, as the garbage decomposed it produced methane gas, which, unfortunately, has the same aroma as rotting eggs. It was going to be a long, complicated, and smelly trip.

  Even though Jinx’s day job as a reporter for The Herald meant that she was able to tell the guards and administrators that she and Alberta, who was posing as a consultant, were visiting the prison for professional reasons, they w
ere not offered any preferential treatment. There was no discrimination there, and Jinx and Alberta had to wait in line like every other visitor.

  Helen was going to wait for them in the Benjamin Ward visitors’ center while they met with Umberto. She said she had learned from her experience working with inmates that three was most definitely a crowd and often made them nervous and unwilling to talk, which is why Helen was sitting at a table in the visitors’ center reading an old Danielle Steel novel, while Jinx and Alberta were sitting in front of a thick plastic partition waiting for Umberto to take his seat on the other side.

  After ten minutes of waiting, Jinx started to get anxious.

  “We only have an hour, Gram, what if he doesn’t show?”

  “Lovey, there really isn’t anything we can do about it,” Alberta said. “It isn’t like we can go back there and force him to come out and talk to us. As difficult as it is, we’re going to have to be patient.”

  “I know, but this place doesn’t exactly make me all Zen and calm,” Jinx replied. “I honestly don’t know how people survive in a place like this.”

  Looking straight ahead, Alberta replied, “We’re about to find out.”

  Walking toward them was the man they had seen multiple times in the past few weeks in both Tranquility and Brooklyn. But how could that be, if during that time he was locked up here behind bars? Contemplation on that question would have to wait. For the moment, Alberta and Jinx needed to harness every ounce of their strength to remain seated and not bolt from the room. They had been in hazardous, hair-raising situations before, they understood what it was like to be in jeopardy, they had even come face-to-face with heinous human beings, but watching Umberto limp slowly toward them was an entirely new experience. They were coming face-to-face with evil.

  Umberto looked like something out of a movie, and not the kind Alberta and Jinx liked to watch on the Hallmark Channel. His limp seemed more pronounced, and he dragged his right leg every other step in an exaggerated motion because his ankles were shackled and connected by a long metal chain, which limited his movement. A similar manacle bound his wrists, so he kept his hands clasped in front of him, making it appear as though he was attempting to pray.