by J. D. Griffo
“Saturday’s dessert is fresh blueberry pie and Helen can’t resist.”
Arching her eyebrows, Alberta scoffed, “At least it isn’t eggs Benedict.”
An hour later nestled into a periwinkle blue vinyl booth at the diner, Helen, Alberta, and Joyce ate their slices of blueberry pie in virtual silence pausing only to sigh contentedly or smack their lips in delight.
“From the sounds you’re making, Berta, I can tell you agree,” Helen said. “This is one of the best pies you’ve ever tasted, right?”
“If I could bake a pie half as good as this, I would give that Martha Stewart a run for her money,” Alberta said pushing her empty plate into the center of the table to join the others.
“It almost makes me want to give up Entenmann’s,” Joyce added. “But I think we can agree that Veronica’s pies are for special occasions only. Too much of a good thing is no good.”
Something on the other side of the diner caught Helen’s attention and she didn’t respond to Joyce’s comment immediately. When she did, all thoughts of pie were gone. In their place were thoughts that weren’t as sweet.
“I see something else that’s no good,” Helen said. “Follow me, ladies.”
Confused, but obedient, Alberta and Joyce grabbed their pocketbooks and followed Helen through the crowd until the reason for Helen’s sudden departure became apparent. In a corner of the diner Nola was surrounded by a group of teenage girls who mistook the unorthodox funeral service as a field trip. Yes it had been made known that this was to be a celebration and not a dour event, but their loud voices and raucous laughter were definitely out of place.
As the women got closer, the girls’ conversation became clearer, and they could hear what the girls said instead of just nondescript, high-volume cackling.
“I’m sorry he’s dead and all, but he was such a weirdo,” said one girl with thick black eyeliner.
“Right? The way he used to stare was creepy,” her friend replied. “Especially at Miss Kirkpatrick, gave me eye cooties.”
“I told him once that he should take a picture and that it would last longer,” the first girl added. “But I told him that he probably couldn’t afford a smartphone on his salary.”
“You didn’t!”
“Of course I did! The freak should’ve known better.”
Alberta grabbed Helen’s arm because she was certain she was going to slap the girl with the heavy-duty eyeliner in the head with her purse. There was no need for violence, however, as Nola intervened and proved why she was a three-peat for the Teacher of the Year award.
“Kylie, you need to apologize,” Nola demanded.
“For what? Telling the truth?” Kylie snapped back.
“For being nasty,” Nola said. “Mr. Harper had to work hard for his money because he wasn’t lucky enough to be born into a family like yours that owns several international companies and a few hotels. I’m sure your joke made him feel like nothing more than a piece of garbage.”
Alberta, Helen, and Joyce looked at each other and were impressed by Nola’s direct approach and no-nonsense attitude in handling her student. It reminded them of the teachers from their youth, who were much sterner than the ones today. Kylie seemed to appreciate being called out for her mistake as well.
“You’re right, Miss Kirkpatrick,” she said, her voice no longer haughty, but humble. “I never thought about how it made him feel.”
“Now you know,” Nola replied.
“I’m sorry, really, I am,” Kylie said. “And Jonas wherever you are, I hope you accept my apology.”
“That’s more like it.”
“I do have to say one thing, Miss Kirkpatrick,” Jinx said, coming up behind Nola.
“What’s that?”
“You really know how to ruin a party.”
Laughing, Nola said, “That’s what teachers do best.”
When the two girls walked away to join their other friends at the ice cream sundae station, Alberta noticed two things about Nola: she deliberately stood with her back to Jinx and her expression changed. Her face dropped, her smile faded, and she took on a much more serious countenance. Could Kylie have spoken the truth about Jonas and was Nola’s reprimand merely an act? When Nola saw Alberta her face automatically lit up and Alberta had all the proof she needed that her suspicion was true.
“Mrs. Scaglione,” Nola beamed. “So nice to see you . . . even at a time like this.”
“I know, honey,” Alberta replied, giving Nola a hug. “You remember my sister, Helen, and my sister-in-law, Joyce, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she said, exchanging more hugs. “Jinx here never shuts up about the three of you.”
“Because these three fabulous, stupefacente women are my idols,” Jinx beamed.
Before Alberta could morph from doting grandmother into private detective, Helen interrupted her. “I couldn’t help overhear your conversation with those girls,” she said. “You handled them like a pro.”
“That’s sweet of you to say. Jinx told me you spent some time in the trenches teaching as well.”
“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Helen confirmed. “But I see kids haven’t changed. They can still be cruel, but honest. Is what they said about Jonas true? Did he ever cross a line?”
Before Nola spoke a word, her slightly outraged expression told them all they needed to know about Jonas’s behavior. Her emphatic and heartfelt veneration told them the rest. “Absolutely not. Jonas was harmless, sure he was a bit off, but who isn’t? The kids were doing what kids do, exaggerating and like you said being cruel.”
“That answers that question then,” Jinx stated. “So the only question remaining is, Why is your boyfriend huddled so close to that woman over there?”
“Boyfriend?” Helen asked.
“Who’s got a boyfriend?” Alberta added.
“Also too, that’s your boyfriend?” Joyce gasped.
All heads snapped to see Kichiro hunched over whispering into the ear of a blonde-haired woman.
“Kichiro Miyahara, Vinny’s Kichiro, is your boyfriend?” Alberta questioned. “And you knew about this, Jinx?”
“I just found out,” Jinx replied apologetically. “Like almost literally.”
Alberta eyed Jinx suspiciously, surprised that her granddaughter would keep such an interesting kernel of juicy gossip a secret. But then, she thought, they were at a memorial service where gossip, juicy or otherwise, wasn’t appropriate conversation so she understood Jinx’s silence. She didn’t understand what she was witnessing, however, and the scene was unusual at best.
Even with her back to them, the woman appeared to be several years older than Kichiro, which only made their intimacy, not to mention the short length of her skirt, look odder. When Nola identified the woman it made things even worse.
“That’s my boss,” she explained. “Principal Basco.”
“Sharon Basco?” Joyce asked.
At the mention of her name, the principal spun around. “Joyce Ferrara? Is that really you?”
“In the flesh!”
Joyce and Sharon hugged each other warmly, and Joyce introduced the woman as the principal of St. Winifred’s Academy and, therefore, Nola’s boss. Joyce continued to explain how Sharon bought some of Joyce’s paintings years ago to hang in the school’s hallways, which is how they got to know one another.
“Those paintings are yours?” Nola squealed. “They’re beautiful.”
“They most certainly are,” Sharon interjected.
“I always thought they were done by a real artist.”
“Nola!” Sharon chided.
“Oh I’m so sorry,” Nola said. “I didn’t mean to insult you, not at all. I meant, you know, somebody famous and not—”
“Some old lady from town,” Joyce finished with a laugh so Nola would know that she didn’t inadvertently hurt her feelings.
“Look at me, I’m telling the kids not to be rude and I go ahead and do the exact same thing,” Nola confessed. “I fe
el awful.”
“Nonsense,” Helen said. “Joyce knows she’s old. The only surprise is that people keep buying those things that she paints. I’ll never understand it as long as I live.”
“What I don’t understand is why you and Kichiro were huddled in the corner whispering to each other.”
Alberta’s comment brought the non-party party to a standstill. Everyone was silent and shocked until Sharon started to crack up laughing. Alberta ignored the sound and focused on Sharon’s appearance, which she found to be unnaturally youthful. Curly blonde hair, round face, button nose, shimmering green eyes. The only sign that she was probably in her late forties or maybe even her early fifties was the crepey skin around her neck that wiggled when she laughed. Which she was still doing.
When Sharon finally stopped she explained her conversation with Kichiro was completely innocent and about the only thing they had in common: Nola.
“We overheard Nola reprimanding Kylie and we were both saying how well she defused the situation,” Sharon said.
“She sure did,” Kichiro added, pushing himself in between Nola and Sharon and putting his arm around Nola’s shoulder. “My girl is an incredible teacher in and out of the classroom.”
“Unfortunately some of our students are quite immature even though they think they’re adults,” Sharon conveyed.
When Alberta saw that Helen’s brow was wrinkled and her lips pursed, she knew exactly what her sister was thinking because she was thinking the same thing: Sharon was a phony. It wasn’t only her appearance that was fake, but also her pronunciation. She pronounced the word “immature” with a soft t like imma-tour and adult with the accent on the first syllable and an a like in Alice. Alberta knew her sister as well as Helen knew the bible so she knew that if she didn’t put an end to this gathering pronto Helen would make a rude comment they would all regret. Sharon, however, did it for her.
“Joyce is there any chance that you have more paintings I could look at?” Sharon asked. “The school could use some sprucing up, and I think it’s time we did some redecorating.”
“I have tons of canvases you could choose from,” Joyce confirmed. “Why don’t you pick a day and come over, and I’ll give you a private viewing of my collection?”
“That sounds perfect,” Sharon cried.
She turned her left hand over to read the watch face on the inside of her wrist and remarked that she had another appointment. She then whipped out her cell phone from her purse and said, “Let’s make a date right now.” When Sharon huddled next to Joyce as close as she had been to Kichiro, Alberta took it as an opportunity to escape.
“C’mon, sis,” Alberta said, locking arms with Helen. “I need a drink.”
“After listening to Miss Fancypants talk and fawn all over Joyce like she was Picasso’s lovechild, I need a double.”
“Lovey,” Alberta whispered.
“Yes, Gram?”
“We’ll catch up with you later.”
“Okay,” Jinx said, waving Freddy to join her, Nola, and Kichiro.
Alberta and Helen pushed through the crowd until they joined Sloan and Father Sal at the counter. “Barkeep,” Helen barked at Sal. “We need some adult beverages.”
They all laughed at Helen’s request, but only Alberta laughed at how Helen pronounced the word “adult” as an homage to Sharon’s attempt at sounding erudite.
Dutifully, Father Sal walked around the counter and placed four plastic cups onto the surface and proceeded to fill them with red wine.
“Wait a second,” Alberta interrupted. “We have to drink white wine because that was Jonas’s favorite.”
“It most certainly was not,” Sal corrected.
“No, I’m sure it was white,” Alberta said. “They found a bottle of pinot grigio in the tree house and Lori, she’s the new medical examiner, said they found large quantities of alcohol in his system.”
“Alberta, I hate to contradict you in front of your new beau, but you’re wrong,” Sal said. “Jonas Harper was allergic to white wine.”
“What?”
“Whenever he would come over to seek my counsel, I had to switch to red,” Sal explained. “Now don’t get me wrong, I’ll drink red wine if that’s all the sommelier has on his menu, as Helen knows I’m much more of a Chardonnay connoisseur. However, red wine is the only kind of wine Jonas would drink because that’s the only kind of wine Jonas could drink. He was allergic to white wine and if he drank it he got a terrible reaction and his face would get all puffy and his lips would get all dry and chapped.”
“In vino veritas,” Alberta gasped.
“There’s more than truth in that wine,” Helen added. “There are also allergens.”
“You know what else that means?” Sloan asked the group.
“What?” Alberta replied.
“Aaron Harper may have built the tree house for his son, but Aaron Harper’s son wasn’t the only one using it.”
CHAPTER 8
Persone invisibile.
“Miss Gina Lollobrigida, get off my table,” Alberta commanded. “We’re having company.”
As expected, Lola completely ignored the directive and remained sprawled out on top of the kitchen table surrounded by canasta cards, jelly glasses, a bottle of fluffy marshmallow vodka, and one of Entenmann’s specialty creations, a s’mores coffee cake. She then purred loudly, rolled over onto her back with her front paws overhead looking both comical and obscene.
“Nice way to raise your cat, Berta,” Helen said gathering the cards so she could shuffle. “I wonder where she learned that pose.”
“Maybe we should call up Mr. McLelland and ask if he finds it familiar?” Jinx joked.
“Ooh, is Sloan tonight’s very special guest star?” Joyce asked.
Rolling her eyes at the barbs from her family, Alberta scooped up Lola in her arms and explained, “Sorry to disappoint you all, but I invited Lori over so she could fill us in on the details from the additional toxicology report in person.”
“Is she allowed to share that information, Gram, you know, outside of police headquarters or her office?”
“Of course she is,” Alberta confirmed. “We are unofficial members of the police force.”
“We are?” Helen and Joyce asked at the same time.
“Yes,” Alberta replied, her tone adamant. She then added just as adamantly, “But don’t tell Vinny.”
“Don’t you think Lori is going to tell Vinny you invited her over to pump her for classified information?” Helen asked.
“Let’s just say I think Lori wants to see the best woman solve this crime and stick it to the good old boys’ club.”
“Reminds me of how I felt in the convent,” Helen mused. “I think I like this Lori already.”
Just then there was a knock at the kitchen door.
“We’re about to find out how much she likes us,” Alberta whispered.
Still holding Lola in her arms, Alberta swept from one end of the kitchen to the other like Loretta Young in search of a stairway and opened the door. “Lori! I’m so glad you could make it. Come on in.”
Wearing three-inch heels, Lori had to duck before entering the kitchen to make sure she didn’t bang her head into the doorjamb. The first thing Alberta noticed, which she regretted immediately, is that Lori didn’t look much more attractive in heels, a little makeup, and wearing a tailored black business suit with a cream blouse instead of a white lab coat. But then she flashed that smile of hers and it was like a glaring light went off from somewhere inside of her that showed her real character and distracted from her physical imperfections.
“Thank you so much for inviting me,” Lori said standing in the middle of the kitchen and literally towering over Alberta and the rest of the ladies. “After the day I’ve had this is a real treat.”
“Then come inside and make yourself at home,” Alberta instructed. “Are you hungry? I can heat up some lasagna. Or we have cake.”
“How about both?” Lori suggested. “Th
e only thing I’ve eaten today were greasy hors d’oeuvres, and I think both lasagna and cake would go with this.”
Lori handled Alberta a bottle of vodka that Lola immediately started to scratch. “You don’t like root beer, Lola, so hands off,” Alberta said.
“Root beer vodka!” Joyce exclaimed. “I don’t think we ever tried that flavor.”
“I picked it up in Philly today,” Lori explained. “I was there as part of a panel discussing proper medical examination procedures when dealing with deadly and contagious pathogens in less than ideal situations.”
“That sounds like a fun field trip,” Helen joked.
Lori laughed good-naturedly as she kicked off her heels and placed them underneath the bench of the hutch that stood next to the front door. “Actually it was! It makes you appreciate the relative calm and normalcy of real life. Plus, I never met a deadly pathogen I didn’t like.”
Laughing even louder, Lori sat down between Helen and Joyce as Jinx brought in a chair from the dining room to accommodate the extra seat around the table. Alberta handed off Lola to Jinx and went about preparing a plate of lasagna for Lori. It seemed like it took Alberta longer to microwave the meal than it did for Lori to devour it.
“Ah cavolo! That has got to be the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted in my entire life,” Lori proclaimed.
Blushing, Alberta replied, “I’m sure your mother’s was just as good.”
“My mother was not what you’d call a domestic,” Lori shared. “I did a lot of the cooking for us and nothing ever tasted like that.”
“Jinx, maybe you should cook for Lori sometime,” Helen hinted. “She won’t notice there’s any difference.
Alberta cleared Lori’s empty plate and put it in the sink. She was going to let it sit until later, but out of habit she turned on the faucet and started cleaning.
“So Lori, do you come from a large family?” Alberta asked.
“No,” Lori replied. “It’s just me and—”
Before she could finish, Joyce interrupted. “Did you grow up in Tranquility?”
Before she could respond, Jinx answered for her. “You did, right? Isn’t that what Vinny said?”
Talking loudly to be heard over the running water, Alberta confirmed, “Yes, grew up here, but moved away to Europe when you got married, right?”
