by J. D. Griffo
Nodding her head, Jinx replied, “That would’ve been some good advice, before he took his final step.”
The scenario made sense to Alberta, that the man could’ve taken a step without looking first and wound up falling to his death. But while it was logical, it didn’t feel like the truth, and for some reason, she wasn’t fully convinced. She had no reason to suspect there was more to the story, and she wondered if she was allowing her imagination to overpower the facts.
She needed to clear her mind so she tilted her head back and inhaled deeply through her nose. Just when she opened her mouth to release her breath, a black crow flew overhead and screeched loudly, its hard caw echoing through the air.
“Then why didn’t we hear him scream?”
“What do you mean?” Jinx asked.
“We weren’t that far away so if he screamed, we should’ve heard him,” Alberta explained. “If you were to fall from such a height, wouldn’t your natural reaction be to scream?”
“Mine would, at least I think it would,” Jinx agreed. “But that doesn’t mean everyone would have the same response. I hate to pull the gender card, but a guy might also be less likely to scream than a woman.”
For the second time, Alberta had to admit that what Jinx said made sense, but just like before she wasn’t buying it. This time when an unexpected wind swept by them she wasn’t startled by the sound of the door slamming against the side of the tree house, she was drawn to the potent smell that accompanied the strong breeze. She didn’t get a whiff of grass or dirt or even the fragrance of the nearby rose garden, she was overwhelmed by the distinct smell of alcohol.
Making sure not to come into contact with the corpse, Alberta leaned in even closer than before, until she was about an inch from the dead man’s face, and looked like she was going to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
“Gram, that’s so gross!” Jinx cried. “What are you doing?”
“Confirming my suspicion.”
“That he’s really dead?”
“No,” Alberta replied. “That he’s dead drunk.”
Shocked by her grandmother’s announcement, Jinx fell back on her haunches. “How in the world did you guess that?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Alberta said, “Some things come with age.”
She didn’t want to tell Jinx the truth because that would tarnish the image she had of her grandfather, but the fact of the matter was that Sammy Scaglione had liked to drink almost as much as Uncle Paolo. The main difference between the two men was that while Paolo was an indiscriminate alcoholic and would drink whatever was cheap or handy, Sammy’s drink of choice was bourbon. Most often he preferred to drink it on the rocks after he got home from work or with his lunch, but he was also known to use it in his morning coffee in lieu of milk. After such a long marriage, Alberta had become familiar with the strong scent, and she could smell it on the dead man’s breath. It wasn’t pure bourbon though, there was another, sweeter smell mixed in so it was clear to Alberta that the man was more like her uncle than her husband and had been mixing his alcohol.
“So he was probably too drunk to scream when he fell out of the tree house,” Jinx concluded.
Probably, Alberta thought, unless the alcohol had some help.
“Where’s the ladder?” Alberta asked.
Looking up, Jinx realized her grandmother was right and there was no ladder attached to the tree house where it should have been, either leaning up against the side of the house or hanging from the bottom of the doorframe. It might be easy to fall out of a tree house that doesn’t have a ladder, but it would prove incredibly difficult to climb into a tree house without one.
“Oh my God, Gram! It’s like you notice everything.”
They quickly surveyed the area, but didn’t find a ladder or anything that could have been used as one. They also agreed that when they saw the tree house for the first time on their run, they hadn’t noticed a ladder so it wasn’t as if it was there at one point and then some thief or vandal took it away.
“That’s really weird,” Jinx said. “I mean there has to be one, otherwise, how else are you going to get inside. Jump?”
Taking a few steps back, Alberta tried to look through the open window, but from the steep angle, she couldn’t see anything. “Maybe he pulled the ladder up after him.”
“Why would he do that?”
“So nobody else could climb up?”
“He might’ve wanted to drink alone,” Jinx concurred. “But then he got so drunk that when he went to leave he forgot that he had brought up the ladder, took a step, and fell to his death.”
Grimacing at the thought, Alberta nodded her head, “That’s very possible.”
“I think it’s more than possible,” Jinx stated. “I think that’s exactly what happened.”
Smiling at her granddaughter, Alberta couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. “Oh, lovey, haven’t you learned that things aren’t always what they seem at first glance?”
“Seriously, Gram? You think this is more than just an unfortunate accident?”
Staring at the oddly contorted body of the dead man lying on the grass, Alberta didn’t have proof, but she knew that this man, whoever he was, had not come to his current situation by accident.
“What I think,” Alberta said. “Is that the Ferrara Family Detective Agency has found its next case.”
A smile formed on Jinx’s face and her eyes grew wide. She knew that her reaction was not appropriate given the circumstances, but she was thrilled to get another chance to flex her investigative journalism muscles.
Seeing the excitement race through her granddaughter’s body, Alberta knew that if she didn’t intervene immediately Jinx’s enthusiasm might get out of control. She needed to prevent her granddaughter from doing another happy dance next to a dead man, getting videotaped by some stranger’s cell phone, and then going viral on the Internet, thus, ruining her career before it even got started.
“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” Alberta said. “Let’s call for backup.”
Simultaneously, they each whipped out their cell phones, Jinx’s from her arm band and Alberta’s from her fanny pack, and called the other members of their team.
“Aunt Joyce!” Jinx shouted, her voice brimming with exhilaration. “We have another case.”
“A what?” Joyce asked.
“A case! Another dead body.”
“Are you serious?” Joyce replied, her voice filled with shock as well as a tiny bit of excitement.
“Meet me and Gram at the tree house in Tranquility Park and see for yourself,” Jinx instructed.
“I’ll be right there,” Joyce said.
“Wait a second, you know where the tree house is?”
“Of course, I do,” Joyce affirmed. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Are you serious?” Jinx asked. “I didn’t even know the thing existed, and I’m a reporter.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, honey, you haven’t lived in the area that long,” Joyce said. “Also too, you’re young and young people don’t spend as much time looking at the sights as you do when you’re older.”
“If I want to make it as a reporter, I’m going to have to start paying more attention to the world around me,” Jinx admitted.
“Until then you have us old ladies to help,” Joyce said. “I’m on my way.”
At least one Ferrara family member was being cooperative.
“What do you mean you can’t leave now?”
Alberta was not having as easy a time convincing her sister to join them at the park as Jinx had with Joyce. True to form, Helen was not being cooperative.
“I’m having breakfast,” Helen replied, munching loudly.
“You sound like a cow chomping on a bale of hay!” Alberta yelled. “What the hell are you eating?”
“Eggs Benedict.”
“You don’t like eggs Benedict.”
“I do, too.”
“No you don’t,” Alberta
insisted. “I made them last week and you had a bowl of Cheerios instead.”
“I don’t like your eggs Benedict.”
Alberta’s face looked like someone had just shoved a knife in her back and twisted it several times. Figuratively, her sister did just that.
“Gram . . . are you alright?”
One of the main things Alberta took pride in was her cooking. She freely admitted that she couldn’t bake a proper cake if her life depended on it, but when it came to cooking she had a gift. The fact that her sister would deliberately state the opposite was close to blasphemy as far as Alberta was concerned. Thankfully, she understood that Helen was crotchety and often didn’t censor her thoughts before speaking so Alberta expected her to say outlandish things. Still, Alberta thought her sister was very close to crossing a line.
“So whose eggs Benedict are you eating?” Alberta asked, as if she was asking her husband who he just spent the night with.
“I’m at Veronica’s,” Helen replied, still chewing with gusto.
“And who, pray tell, is this Veronica?”
“Veronica’s Diner,” Helen clarified. “Right near St. Winifred’s. Which you would know if you went to church more than once a month.”
“Don’t start that again,” Alberta said, clearly not up to having an ecclesiastical debate while standing over a dead body. “Just hurry up and get over here, there’s been another . . . death.”
“It isn’t someone else we know, is it?” Helen asked warily as she put down her fork and clutched the rosary beads that she always kept in the pocket of her skirt.
Looking at the man, Alberta replied, “No, neither of us recognize him. But will you get over here now? The park is going to start to get crowded soon and I want to make sure we have enough time to gather clues before the police get here.”
“You’re becoming a regular Agatha Christie, aren’t you?” Helen quipped.
Alberta knew her sister was ribbing her, but she couldn’t help feeling proud. She had spent decades not trusting her instinct or acting on her intuition and instead lived the life that her husband and so many others around her wanted her to live that it felt good to be doing something that she wanted to do on her own terms. Even if that something involved the more gruesome aspects of life.
“I just have to pay and then I’m leaving,” Helen advised, nodding at her waitress and moving her fingers across the air in the universal sign that meant, I’m ready for my check.
“Good,” Alberta said. “Because we’re needed.”
After Alberta hung up, her words pounded in her ear. She hadn’t thought about them before she spoke, they just tumbled out of her mouth, but they hit her as forcefully as the poor man’s body must have hit the ground. The reason she felt drawn to solving murders wasn’t only because it was something that brought her closer to Jinx and something that bizarrely brought her family together, it was something that brought closure to those who died. She solved the mystery of who killed Lucy, and she knew that she and her family would find out who killed Tranquility’s latest victim. Because the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that this was not an accident.
Fueled with confidence, Alberta dialed another number on her cell phone.
“Who are you calling now Gram?”
The person on the other line picked up before Alberta could answer Jinx’s question. But when she spoke it was obvious who she was talking to.
“Hello Vinny, it’s me.”
“Alfie?” Vinny asked, using the nickname he coined for Alberta when they were teenagers by utilizing the first two letters of Alberta’s first and last names, A, l, f, and e. Pronounced as one word, it became Alfie. “You realize it’s barely after seven o’clock, right?”
“Sorry about that, but you need to get to Tranquility Park immediately.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Alberta glanced at the unmoving body on the ground and replied, “There’s been another murder.”
CHAPTER 3
Albero della morte.
Alberta had never heard Vinny scream so loudly. She put the phone on speaker so both she and Jinx could hear every angry and off-color word Vinny shouted. Despite the fact that they were being yelled at by the chief of police and there was a dead body less than a foot from their feet, Alberta and Jinx both had to put their hands over their mouths to prevent themselves from laughing out loud. Even the most serious situations could take a ridiculous turn.
“What do you mean there’s been another murder?” Vinny’s voice shrieked into the otherwise calm early morning atmosphere of Tranquility Park. “Did you see something? Did you see someone get murdered? There hasn’t been a murder here in decades and you show up and poof! There’s not one murder, but now there’s two! What is going on? I mean seriously, what’s this all about, Alfie?”
Hearing Vinny reference, albeit unknowingly, the phrase from the famous movie starring Michael Caine as a randy Brit searching for love in all the wrong places was too much for the women and even with their hands over their mouths, their laughter rang through their fingers to conjoin with Vinny’s screaming voice and further disturb the peaceful surroundings. The sound didn’t bring Vinny any peace either.
“Are you laughing at me, Alfie?”
Forcing herself to turn her laughter into a coughing fit, Alberta replied, “Never! This is serious police business.”
Unfortunately, her attempt at a cover-up failed. Although Vinny and Alberta saw very little of each other after graduating from high school, each going their separate ways to pursue their adulthood only to reunite months ago when she moved back to Tranquility, their bond, like so many made during childhood, was strong and everlasting. They knew each other very well and Vinny knew that Alberta was lying.
“First of all, I’ll be the judge if this is serious police business because I am still the chief of police!” Vinny bellowed. “And second of all, don’t tell me you’re not laughing when I can hear you and Jinx yucking it up.”
“You got me, Vinny,” Alberta replied, her laughter ending for good. “This really is very serious, but I’m sorry . . . your shouting is comical. I think you made some birds fly south for the winter prematurely.”
Once again Alberta was impressed with herself. After years of marriage to a man who could fly off the handle at the slightest provocation, whether tipsy or sober, Alberta had developed the skill of saying whatever she thought would appease Sammy, and more often than not what she knew her husband wanted to hear wasn’t the truth. Now that Vinny had called her out and her back was against a proverbial wall, she was happy that she hadn’t reverted back to her usual practice of saying whatever she thought would make someone happy, but instead told the truth. It was a small victory, but another sign that even at the age of sixty-four she was able to change.
“We’re at the tree house in Tranquility Park,” Alberta said.
“Right next to the dead body,” Jinx added.
Ignoring Jinx’s more descriptive remark, Vinny focused on Alberta’s comment.
“What are you doing there at this time of the morning?”
“We were jogging through the park and on our way back we saw—”
Before Alberta could finish her sentence, Vinny interrupted. “You were jogging?! What are you trying to do, Alfie? Become Tranquility’s next statistic?”
In her mind, Alberta knew that somewhere deep within Vinny’s questioning there was concern. But in her heart, Vinny’s words resonated differently. She heard what she had heard so many times before, ever since she was a little girl, that someone—and that someone was usually a man—thought she was too fat or too female or too fragile to attempt something new, let alone accomplish a new feat. So when she responded to Vinny’s comment, she screamed even louder than Vinny had and did, in fact, disturb some birds in a nearby tree, causing them to fly from their resting place to search for a quieter location.
“I’ll have you know that I am in perfect physical condition! Go ask Dr. Del Ba
glivio!” she yelled. “He told me there’s no reason why I can’t jog a few mornings every week, and that’s just what I’m doing. And what’s more, Vincenzo, this morning I didn’t even get that stitch in my side that I usually get so yes, you can teach an old dog a new trick every now and again!”
It was Vinny’s turn to laugh. “Alright, alright, Alfie! Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I was only concerned that you were pushing yourself too hard.”
“Pushing yourself is the only way you can move forward,” she replied.
“Just be careful,” he warned, then asked, “By the way, are you wearing knickers?”
“No, but I have a bright red sports bra on!” Alberta yelled.
“Size thirty-six C,” Jinx shouted.
Shocked that Jinx would offer such personal information, Alberta slapped her on the shoulder and pointed a finger at her. She didn’t have to speak a word for Jinx to know that she wasn’t happy with her disclosure. But Jinx, as a member of a less-conservative generation unbothered by old-fashioned rules of propriety, didn’t think she said anything wrong.
“You should be proud of your bust size, Gram,” Jinx said. “Just like you should be proud that you instinctively know this poor guy was murdered and didn’t die from an accident.”
Jinx’s compliment reminded Alberta of why she called Vinny in the first place.
“If you really want to be helpful, you’ll get yourself to the tree house in Tranquility Park,” Alberta advised. “Because we have another murder to investigate.”
And Alberta’s comment initiated another round of screaming from her old friend.
“You mean the police department has another murder to investigate!”
“Well, sure, Mr. D’Angelo,” Jinx interrupted. “With our help.”
“Hey Jinx, if you’re trying to sound like you respect me, you should call me chief and not mister!” Vinny yelled. “I know you’re just like your grandmother and you think that you can get away with murder because we know each other.”
Before either woman could point out Vinny’s poor choice of words, he did it himself.
