A Season for Killing Blondes

by Joanne Guidoccio

  “Jenny Marie, we need to get going.” Anna May stood impatiently by the door.

  Jenny Marie ignored her. She watched the screen as a young woman with a cartful of groceries punched in her code.

  I heard the knock at the door and opened it. Anna May stood to the side as I welcomed Maria and Rosa into the condo. Maria carried a large, steaming casserole, and Rosa had a covered rectangular Pyrex dish.

  Sofia sniffed the air. “Something smells wonderful. Could it be lasagna?”

  “What a nose you have, Sofia!” Maria headed toward the kitchen and placed the casserole on the counter.

  Rosa offered her plate to me. I peeked inside. “Pineapple cheesecake—my absolute favorite!” I hugged her and then went over and hugged Maria. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

  “Calories and cholesterol. Ladies, you need to watch it,” Anna May smirked again.

  How could Anna May even think of offering anyone diet advice? I decided to take the higher ground and say nothing. No point adding to the acrimony that already existed between us.

  Rosa reddened and her eyes flickered with anger. Before she could speak, Maria reappeared and placed a restraining hand on her arm. Thankfully, the moment passed.

  “Jenny Marie, let’s get out of this place.” Anna May pointed a finger in my direction. “Remember, I’m watching you, Gilda Greco.”

  After the door closed, Maria and Rosa came over and hugged me again. I tried to smile, but found it difficult to let go of all the tension that had built up inside.

  “What did she mean by that?” Rosa asked.

  “She thinks I had something to do with Carrie Ann’s death,” I replied.

  Maria made the sign of the cross. “Stay away from Anna May. She’s mean to the bone and likes to stir up trouble for everyone.”

  “I don’t understand why they even came,” Rosa said. “You’re not that close, and if they think you did it, why didn’t they just tell the police?”

  Rosa had a valid point. One I hadn’t considered while Anna May accused me of having something to do with Carrie Ann’s death. She was grieving, but there was some other emotion beneath all that. Could it be fear? What on earth would Anna May Godfrey be afraid of? The Anna May I remember walked confidently and fearlessly through the halls of Sudbury Secondary.

  “…and we heard it all over the news. They’re asking for witnesses or anyone who has heard anything about the death,” said Maria.

  I gathered they were talking about a news release issued by the police. I hadn’t listened to any news since yesterday morning. Maria and Rosa could pick at this all afternoon. We needed a diversion, so I plastered a smile on my face. “Let’s have lunch and put all this unpleasantness behind us.” I turned to Sofia. “Why don’t you give Maria and Rosa the grand tour while I heat up the lasagna and make the salad?”

  “That’s a great idea.” Sofia lowered her voice, but I could still hear what she said to Maria and Rosa. “Please don’t mention anything about the Godfrey sisters to our mothers.”

  “I don’t think you’ve heard the end of Anna May,” Maria said. “Wouldn’t it be better if you kept your mothers informed?”

  “No, Maria.” Sofia raised her voice. “It’s better if we don’t tell them. And I would hope that you wouldn’t gossip about it either.”

  “How can you even suggest that? Gilda is my godchild, and I love her like a daughter.” Maria sounded hurt.

  As I chopped up the vegetables, I could hear the oohs and aahs coming from the other rooms. Sofia delighted in showing off her masterpiece to first-time guests. She had decorated the condo in whites and off-whites with subtle pink and pale-green undertones. Everything from the soft, Italian leather sofa in the living area to the Egyptian cotton sheets in the bedroom had been selected to create a calm, muted feeling. Sofia had attended to every detail, and the results were spectacular. I didn’t mind letting her do the honors.

  It didn’t take long to get lunch on the table. We took our places and chatted about food and sidewalk sales. The earlier tension had dissipated. Was this the calm after the storm, or the calm before the next storm?

  Chapter 5

  Monday, October 24, 2011

  Carlo wore a black tuxedo. He carried an enormous bouquet of white roses and offered them to me.

  “They’re so beautiful, Carlo.” I started to count them. “And so many of them.”

  “Twenty-nine to be exact.”

  “Twenty-nine?”

  “It’s the number of years that we have been apart.”

  “How thoughtful and romantic of you—”

  I woke up to the incessant ringing of the telephone. Darn! Only a dream. I picked up the phone.

  “It’s about time you answered,” Sofia said. “Where were you?”

  “Asleep in bed.”

  “It’s past ten. Are you feeling all right?”

  Since moving back to Sudbury, I had to explain every move or deviation from the Italian norm. “I’m fine. I just felt like sleeping in.” The weekend had been a very busy and hectic one. We had celebrated Uncle Paolo’s birthday on Saturday, and while it wasn’t a milestone, twelve of his relatives had come up from Sault Ste. Marie and Thunder Bay.

  “I’m sorry,” Sofia said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I could call back later. But then it might be too late, and I know you like to know things ahead of time.”

  “All right, you win. What’s up?”

  “I went to Curves this morning. Everyone was talking about Carrie Ann’s death. A few of the ladies suggested that her death could be related to financial problems at Three Sisters Decorating. They also talked—”

  “Whoa! What kind of financial problems?” I sat up in bed and gave my full attention to the conversation.

  Sofia explained, “Some of the suppliers have complained about items and amounts on their invoices and never getting paid on time. And a few irate customers threatened to sue the sisters after they discovered that poor-quality paint and wallpaper were used.”

  “Hmm. So there are a few unhappy campers out there. I could see them wanting to kill Anna May, but what could they possibly accomplish by killing Carrie Ann?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied.

  “Where are all these women getting their information?”

  “Two of the women are wives of police officers, and they hold nothing back.”

  “What about confidentiality?”

  “Are you thinking of reporting them?”

  “Of course not. I have no intention of stirring any more pots.”

  Sofia changed the subject. “But I called for another reason. I wanted to make sure you knew about the memorial service this afternoon.”

  I knew about the service and still wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. I decided to focus on the murder investigation. “Did you find out how Carrie Ann died?”

  “She hit her head on the edge of the Dumpster and died instantly,” Sofia said. “They also found bruises on her upper body. They’re not certain about the exact time, but they’re pretty sure the crime took place Wednesday evening.”

  “Why would anyone want to harm Carrie Ann?” I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. How could someone so kind and considerate die such a brutal death?

  “The police are thinking it could be a robbery gone wrong. There was no money in her wallet.”

  “Anything else missing?”

  “No one seems to know.” Sofia said. “Back to the memorial service. Visitation is at two. At three, Father Cleary will conduct a prayer service.”

  “Father Cleary must be ancient.”

  “I don’t know how old he is, but he is their uncle, and he is willing to do it. From what I hear, the prayer service will be short. Then, there will be refreshments in one of the meeting rooms.”

  “It’s surprising how much you learn at Curves. Do you get any exercising done?”

  “Very funny. I double-checked everything with the funeral home. So, do you want to go?”
<
br />   “No…yes…I don’t know what to do. Are you going?” While I didn’t want to see Anna May again, I didn’t want to spend another day cocooning.

  “I’m going if you’re going.”

  “Okay, I’ll go.” It sounded much tamer than the traditional Italian funeral with the receiving line. I didn’t think I could handle anything like that. “What time do you want to go?”

  “Around a quarter to three. That way, we wouldn’t have to mingle too long, and we could stay for the prayer service. I can pick you up around a quarter after two.”

  “Sounds like a plan. See you later.” I put the telephone down and forced myself to get out of bed. I had almost four hours to get ready for the service and nothing else planned for the day. I put on my track suit, grabbed several CDs, and took the elevator down to the exercise room. I spent the next ninety minutes exercising vigorously, and then I went for a swim in the pool. I often ran into a few other residents, but I welcomed the time alone today. I needed time to think and get re-energized before the service, and I didn’t feel like talking with anyone.

  I went back up to the condo and took a long, luxurious bath. Something else I hadn’t done since I relocated to Sudbury. Setting up the office had taken up a lot of time and energy. I decided on a light black wool pantsuit with a lilac blouse. As I finished applying my makeup, I heard Sofia’s distinctive knocks at the door.

  I opened the door and greeted my cousin. Her eyes widened. “Wow! You’ll be the belle at this funeral…oops…I mean memorial service.”

  She had also gone with a black pant suit, but she had chosen to wear a cream-colored blouse. “You’re looking slim. Curves is paying off.”

  “Yeah, I guess. But I wish I could lose the inches faster.” She glanced at her watch. “We should leave now if we want to get a good parking spot and arrive before the service starts. I don’t want to walk in late on Father Cleary. You know what he’s like.”

  “What he was like. I think he might have lost his bark by now.”

  Sofia drove, and we arrived at the funeral home in less than ten minutes. The parking lot was filled, but Sofia managed to find a spot on one of the side roads. It always amazed me how she could maneuver her car, even in the tightest of spots.

  We made our way across the street and joined a group of older ladies who were entering at the same time. There was a line-up at the donations desk.

  Sofia said, “Let’s pay our respects first and worry about donations later. It’s the first room on the right.”

  Sofia glanced around the room crammed with wall-to-wall floral arrangements, plants, and people. “Jenny Marie is at the far right talking with an older gentleman. Why don’t we chat with her for a while?”

  We made our way through the crowd and found ourselves face-to-face with Jenny Marie. The older gentleman’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Edith has become more housebound and hardly ever goes out now. We both appreciated everything that Carrie Ann did for us after Edith had her stroke.” He took Jenny Marie’s hand and held it tightly. “We will pray for you and Anna May.” Tears welled in his eyes as he headed toward the door.

  “Thank you for coming. I’m surprised to see you after what happened the other day.” Jenny Marie winced. “I must apologize for Anna May’s behavior. She’s been blaming everyone, even some of our regular suppliers and customers.”

  I hugged her. “She has every right to be angry at such a tragic and senseless crime.”

  Jenny Marie smiled gratefully. “I spoke to my daughter about your condo. She’s an interior designer, too, and she would love to see it sometime.”

  My eyes traveled around the room, searching for younger head of blonde hair. While I had never met Grace, I figured she resembled her mother and aunts. “I’d love to show it to her. Is she planning to stay for a few days?”

  “She’s in the middle of a very important assignment out East. I told her not to worry about missing the service. Anna May insisted on having it today.” She paused and added, “Carrie Ann would have understood.”

  Sofia spoke. “My condolences to you and Anna May. We will keep you in our prayers.”

  One of the funeral directors made an announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please.” The room became quiet, and he continued. “Father Cleary will be conducting a short service in the chapel, two doors down the hall. It will begin in ten minutes.”

  “Let’s go.” Sofia started walking faster. “We want to get good seats.”

  “This is not an arena.” While I didn’t think it was dignified to be moving so quickly in a funeral home, I noticed several other visitors also quickening their pace.

  “I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of standing any longer than I have to in these heels.”

  I followed her into the chapel, marveling at how she managed to elbow her way past the others. We found two places in the fourth row from the front. Sofia smiled as she sank into her chair. I focused on the altar where Anna May and Jenny Marie were talking with an older and much grayer Father Cleary. A tall, slender blonde woman approached the trio and began pointing toward the podium. She was strikingly beautiful with long, curly blonde hair. A man in a black, pinstripe suit approached and touched her on the shoulder. Carlo Fantin. She hugged him, and they stood close together for a while.

  “Do you remember Melly Grace?” Sofia asked.

  “The American cousin from Tennessee.” How could I forget the Group of Four as they liked to call themselves? The three Godfrey sisters and the visiting cousin were inseparable during that spring so long ago.

  “She broke up at least ten couples.” Sofia whispered, but she had a definite edge to her voice.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ll tell you later. It’s too long a story, and Father Cleary is ready to start the service.”

  Father Cleary stood at the podium waiting for everyone to get settled. It had been over twenty years since I had seen the dynamic priest who delighted in delivering fiery sermons and openly confronting “holiday Catholics” and rebellious teenagers. It was his way or the highway. The years had not been kind to the aging priest. His hair had thinned and grayed, and he was stooped in his posture. He appeared as a frail octogenarian with a pronounced tremor in his right hand. In a low and shaky voice, he made a considerable effort to deliver the two readings selected by the family: Ecclesiastes and the parable of the vine and branches. Afterward, he slowly made his way to a nearby chair.

  Melly Grace nodded to Father Cleary and approached the podium. She wore a black suit with a short skirt and a black-and-white striped blouse. Her skin was flawless, and the honey-blonde curls looked very natural—similar in color to Carrie Ann’s. Rimless glasses accentuated her large, blue eyes. From where I sat, she could easily pass for thirty-five. She began to speak in a low, melodious voice which held traces of a southern drawl.

  “First of all, I would like to thank Father Cleary for leading us in prayer. How appropriate that he read from Ecclesiastes—one of Carrie Ann’s favorite passages. She believed there was a season to everything in life; the challenge was to embrace all events, both positive and negative, and somehow maintain equilibrium.

  “I feel privileged to have been her cousin and friend since childhood. I can still remember spending our summers together at the family compound in French River. She was a tomboy who loved and excelled at every sport. As the two children closest in age, we spent a lot of time together, and I often think of Carrie Ann as the sister I never had.” Melly Grace glanced down and paused. Her right hand shook as she turned the page.

  “As we grew older, there were fewer and fewer family get-togethers. We started writing monthly letters to each other. I did manage to spend a few months with her during our senior year in high school. I still have fond memories of our prom night, double dates, barbecues, and the summer spent as camp counselors in Algonquin Park. After university, we spent a year traveling and working in Europe. Carrie Ann dragged me to every museum
and church listed in the travel guides. We must have visited hundreds of them.” Melly Grace smiled and shook her head as several chuckles could be heard throughout the chapel.

  “In adulthood, we maintained our correspondence and later switched to weekly emails and the occasional telephone call. I could talk about anything and anyone with Carrie Ann. That was her greatest gift. She was a wonderful listener who knew when to offer sympathy and when to offer solutions. She was nonjudgmental and would never scold or indulge in one-upmanship.

  “In her chosen profession, she created sanctuaries and artistic masterpieces for her clients. She was passionate about everything and everyone in her life: her sisters, her extended family, her career, and her many hobbies and interests. She will always have a special place in my heart and the hearts of all who knew her.

  “There is no explanation or justification for the violent and senseless way she was taken from us. But let us take solace in the fact that she has now entered another realm and will always be with us in spirit.”

  Melly Grace bowed her head and stood silent for a few seconds. She then walked toward the pew and sat next to Anna May and Jenny Marie. The two sisters embraced her, and Carlo patted her shoulder. I wondered why he sat with the family.

  “That was some eulogy,” Sofia whispered in a voice tinged with envy. “Who would have thought the dipstick had it in her.”

  I decided not to respond. While I loved my cousin dearly, there were times when I wanted to muzzle her. She was filter-free, a trait I sometimes envied, but not today.

  One of the funeral directors approached the podium. He cleared his throat and addressed the group. “On behalf of the Godfrey family, I wish to thank all of you for coming to pay your last respects to our beloved Carrie Ann. You are all invited to join us for refreshments in the meeting room.”

  “I’m ready to go. What about you?” It had been a tame experience, and I didn’t want to press my luck and risk the chance of running into Anna May.

  Sofia sighed. “I guess you don’t want to partake.” She wanted to stay and sample some of the pastries and chat with the other guests. Like my mother and aunt, she made an afternoon of it whenever she paid her respects.