by J. D. Griffo
“If only we had proof that Sharon was a liar,” Jinx said. “Maybe not about the affair, but something else to chip away at her credibility and plant doubt in a jury’s mind.”
“I’ve thought about that, but I’ve come up empty,” Bruno said. “Sharon’s the link that connects Nola to at least one of the murdered victims, maybe both for all we know, but I’ve found nothing that depicts Sharon as a liar.”
“We stumbled on something that might be helpful,” Alberta said.
“What?” the men in the room replied.
“When she was barely twenty years old, Sharon gave up a child for adoption.”
“Per amore di Dio!” Bruno cried. “How long have you known about this?”
“We just found out,” Helen answered. “And except for the word of a shady priest and a compromising photo in a very old edition of The Herald we don’t have any proof.”
“I can get proof.”
Since this was the first time Joyce had spoken all evening her words had a greater impact than they normally would have. But it wasn’t just her words that gripped everyone’s attention, it was also her behavior.
Even before they had returned to Alberta’s after attending the funeral service, Joyce had been quiet and reflective. She hadn’t engaged in any conversation on the drive home nor had she participated in the debate about Nola’s innocence or commented on her predicament. It was as if she was on autopilot and silently set the table, reheated some of the food, unwrapped platters, all the while living in her own world and not joining in the rowdy discussion surrounding her.
Alberta had assumed she was tired or not feeling well or the death of the young detective hit her harder than she had expected and she was grappling with her own feelings. With so many people around and so much to do and think about, she had gotten distracted. Now she realized that something was wrong with her sister-in-law and she wanted to know what it was.
“Joyce, what’s going on with you?” Alberta asked.
“Me?” Joyce replied. “Nothing.”
“Don’t nothing me, something’s wrong,” Alberta pushed. “And what do you mean you can get proof. How?”
“The same way I found out the name of Nola’s birth mother.”
Yet again the table erupted in shouts, gasps, cutlery that jumped when hands were slammed against the table’s surface and only quieted down when one voice cut through all the noise.
“You went back to Catholic Charities?” Helen asked.
Joyce didn’t answer verbally but simply nodded her head.
Confused, Alberta looked at her sister-in-law, then at her sister, then back at her sister-in-law. “What do you mean you went back to Catholic Charities?”
Taking a deep breath, Joyce looked distraught, not upset by the question but the memories it ignited. Her finger traced the inside of her gold hoop earrings the way it always did when she was nervous. Alberta knew this was one of Joyce’s tics, but she also knew that Joyce was having a difficult time speaking so she allowed her sister-in-law the time to gather her thoughts and control her emotions. After a few moments she was prepared to speak.
“When Anthony and I first got married, no I’m a liar, even when we were dating behind everyone’s back, we knew we loved each other and we knew that no matter how much grief the family and the world would give us we were still going to get married,” Joyce shared. “The Italian man and the black woman weren’t going to let society dictate how we were going to live our lives.”
“Grazie mille. We’re all so glad the two of you were so brave,” Alberta said.
“But when the idea of children arose, we lost some of our courage,” Joyce said. “And we weren’t sure how wise it was to bring mixed-race children into the world so we considered adoption and with Helen’s help got an appointment with Catholic Charities.”
Shocked, Alberta once again gawked at Joyce, then Helen, then back at Joyce. “I had no idea.”
“Because I can keep my mouth shut,” Helen said. “Go on Joyce, tell them what else I did for you and my brother.”
Smiling for the first time all day, Joyce continued, “Helen pulled some major strings and got us placed at the top of the list. A difficult feat normally since so many couples were hoping to adopt, but a downright miracle to get an interracial couple in the top spot.”
“What can I say, I had a lot of power back then,” Helen said, shrugging her shoulders.
“I’ll never forget what you did and what you did after that, too,” Joyce said, placing her hand on top of Helen’s.
After a few seconds of silence, Jinx erupted like a dormant volcano desperate to see some action. “Ah madon! Do not leave us hanging, Aunt Joyce! What did Aunt Helen do next?”
Joyce took a deep breath and accepted the handkerchief Helen offered her to wipe away some tears. “She convinced your brother and me that if we wanted to bring our own children into the world God would welcome them with open arms,” she said, clearly moved by the memory. “A few months later I got pregnant with the twins.”
“Dio mio, I had no idea,” Alberta said, visibly moved. “I guess Bobby and Billy owe their life to their aunt Helen.”
Searching for another handkerchief in her pocketbook to wipe away her own tears, Helen scoffed and said, “I was only the messenger.”
“That’s a lovely story, Joyce,” Sloan said. “But I’m sorry, what does that have to do with getting proof about Sharon giving up her own child?”
“When I heard about the adoption and Father Sal hooking Sharon up with Catholic Charities, it got me thinking about my own past with them and it dawned on me that I’m still connected to them,” Joyce explained.
“In what way?” Sloan asked.
“I donate to them every year and I correspond with a few of the nuns who I met when Ant and I interviewed there, especially Sister Clare,” Joyce continued. “She was incredibly gracious and always helpful so I thought I’d call in a marker.”
“So you found out the name of Sharon’s baby?” Sloan questioned.
“No, Sister Clare didn’t have that information because Sharon had her baby overseas, but . . . she was able to give me the name of Nola’s birth mother.”
Stunned, Bruno looked at Joyce with amazement and admiration. “You got a nun at Catholic Charities to give you sealed information about the name of someone’s birth mother?”
“When you say it like that, you make it sound like it was a hard thing for me to do.”
“It was,” Bruno corrected. “How in the world did you do it?”
“I brought over some homemade apple pie, and while I was writing out a check I asked.”
“Joyce Ferrara,” Bruno said. “I think I’m in love with you.”
“Well, don’t get too excited,” she cautioned. “I found out the name of Nola’s mother, but it doesn’t mean I found the woman. I’ve done an extensive online search, called in a few more favors from former colleagues, and still came up empty.”
“What’s the woman’s name?” Alberta asked.
“Rose Wood.”
“Sounds like a made up name to me,” Freddy replied, giving voice to what everyone else was thinking.
“That’s what I think, too,” Joyce agreed. “I doubt we’ll ever find out who Nola’s mother is, but we might be able to find out who Sharon’s baby is.”
“And how in heaven’s name can we do that?” Alberta asked.
“I got the name of a nun who still runs the Catholic Charities office in Dublin, Ireland, where Father Sal said Sharon went to have her baby. So all hope might not be lost after all.”
Hope might not have been lost, but Eydie Gormé suddenly got a case of laryngitis and lost her voice. There was an earsplitting screeching sound heard from the living room, immediately followed by the sound of a loud crash, and topped off by a triumphant meow.
“Lola!” Alberta cried. “What have you gotten into now?”
Alberta ran into the living room followed by the rest of the group to find Lola stand
ing on top of Eydie Gormé’s album and spinning around the record player purring contentedly and clearly enjoying herself. A brown wicker cornucopia and wooden pieces of fruit were strewn all over the hardwood floor, obviously the cause of the loud crash. Mesmerized, Jinx bent down and picked up a fallen banana as if she had just found the proverbial needle in a haystack and found out the needle was encrusted with diamonds and precious jewels.
“It’s made of wood,” Jinx announced.
Amused by his girlfriend’s comment, but a tiny bit concerned, Freddy asked, “Jinx, are you okay?”
“Gram! Where’s that yearbook?”
“Right over there on the cocktail table,” Alberta replied. “Why?”
Instead of answering, Jinx picked up the yearbook and opened it up to the page containing Sharon’s high school photo. Raising the banana over her head triumphantly, she exclaimed, “Una rosa da qualsiasi altro nome.”
“Why are you and that banana quoting Shakespeare at a time like this?” Helen asked.
“Because a rose by any other name is still a rose,” Jinx replied not at all answering her aunt’s question.
“It’s really cool that you’re smart and all, Jinx,” Freddy started. “But I don’t think anyone knows what you’re trying to say.”
Pointing to Sharon’s photo, Jinx said, “Read her name.”
“Sharon Rose Inchiosa,” Alberta said.
“Her middle name is Rose!” Jinx cried.
“Oh lovey, that’s a very common middle name,” Alberta corrected. “Helen’s middle name is Rose.”
“Named after my grandmother, I am,” Helen confirmed.
“And her last name,” Jinx said.
“Inchiosa?”
“No! Her married last name is Basco,” Jinx said, shaking the banana wildly in her hand. “And Basco means wood in Italian.”
“Oh my God, you’re right!” Freddy shouted.
“She is!” Alberta agreed. “That means Rose Wood is really Sharon Basco.”
“It’s too much of a coincidence not to be!” Jinx exclaimed. “Nola’s adopted parents are Irish so they must’ve went to Catholic Charities in Ireland to adopt her.”
“Well, what do you know? I did find out who Sharon’s baby is after all,” Joyce said.
“It’s Nola!” Alberta cried. “Good job, lovey!”
“And Nola has to know the truth,” Freddy exclaimed.
“I think you’re right about that,” Jinx agreed.
“At least that would explain why Nola agreed to act as Kichiro’s girlfriend,” Freddy continued. “You know, in order to save her mother’s marriage and reputation.”
“And also why Nola’s adamant that Sharon be kept out of the whole investigation,” Sloan added.
“Do you know what all this means, Aunt Joyce?”
“I would like to say that I do, but honestly, I have no idea.”
“Nola isn’t being blackmailed by Sharon because she’s shy of a few teaching credits,” Jinx said. “Nola’s being blackmailed to take the fall because Sharon is the real killer.”
“Yes!” Alberta cried. “That has to be it.”
“Nola isn’t guilty of double homicide,” Jinx declared. “The only thing Nola’s guilty of is protecting her own mother from going to prison for life!”
CHAPTER 21
Il sangue non è acqua.
“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing, Gram?” Alberta looked out the passenger side window of Jinx’s Chevy Cruze and was one hundred percent certain in her reply. “Not at all.”
Tranquility Park passed by on their right and in the distance they could see the tree house where their journey began, and now they were en route to a location where the whole thing could end or, as Jinx was starting to fear, could blow up in their face and destroy the life of her best friend.
“Then maybe we should let Vinny and the police handle this,” Jinx said. “Or I could write an exposé and have Wyck publish it as an online exclusive.”
Alberta noticed how different the park looked from the other day. The lawn was practically covered in brown and orange leaves. Just last month when they stumbled on the body of Jonas Harper, the grass was still green in some areas, with the leaves only beginning to turn color, at the time the whole park looked as if it was valiantly holding onto its beauty despite the fact that another impending winter was on its way. And now it looked like it had given in to the inevitable.
The park was empty and lifeless, no doubt a result of its new reputation as the site of not one, but two homicides. A reputation given momentum and strength thanks to Wyck dubbing it in print Tran-Kill-ity Park. It was a clever moniker, but it was no wonder the townspeople had stayed away from the place in droves ever since. The park had developed the popularity status of a leper colony. And Alberta and Jinx were on their way to meet with the head leper.
“Sharon holds the key to this whole mystery, Jinx, I just know it.”
“I agree with you, Gram, but if she’s gone to such great lengths to keep her secrets hidden, and I’m talking about killing two innocent men, then what’s going to prevent her from killing us?”
Logically, Alberta knew that her granddaughter had a point; emotionally she knew she was wrong. Kichiro was killed in the middle of the night, and Jonas was killed in the very early hours of the morning when there was no chance of witnesses interfering with the murders or finger-pointing the culprit. In the bright sunshine of day, Sharon wouldn’t take the chance of killing two more women who were merely trying to tie up some loose ends. Once those loose ends had a pretty bow on them, then it would be time to call in the troops with badges and guns. Knowing that she had Vinny’s cell phone number on speed dial made her feel a bit better in case things didn’t go exactly as she had planned.
And then there was Alberta’s gut instinct kicking in. She believed they had uncovered the mystery that Nola was Sharon’s daughter, but there was something else she wasn’t getting. There was another piece of the puzzle that had to be discovered, she just felt it in her bones. And it wasn’t her arthritis acting up again like it did whenever the temperature dropped. There was something about the principal that made her feel as if there was much more to her story, and Alberta wanted to find that out before allowing Vinny to take over. Plus, ever since Kichiro’s death, Vinny hadn’t been acting like himself.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about from Sharon, lovey, but I did instruct Helen to call the police if she doesn’t hear back from us within the hour.”
Making another right onto Mill Creek Road, the street that led directly into the parking lot of St. Winifred’s Academy, Jinx wasn’t relieved by Alberta’s comment. “A lot of damage can be done in an hour, Gram.”
“Agreed, but Vinny has been rather emotional since Kichiro’s death and he’s taken his murder very hard. I think in many ways he was like a father to the young man,” Alberta said. “He, like the DA and even Lori, are hellbent on making Nola pay for killing two of Tranquility’s favorite sons so if we’re going to offer up another suspect for them to pin their hopes on we better make sure we’re right.”
Parking the Cruze in one of the many empty spots, Jinx turned off the engine and turned to her grandmother. “How did you get to be so smart?”
Alberta turned to her granddaughter and for a moment she was taken back decades to when her own daughter, Lisa Marie, was pregnant and full of life, when their ongoing feud was in one of its lulls and their relationship was filled with hope, encouragement, and love instead of the usual insults, putdowns, and hate.
Swallowing hard so Jinx didn’t see how emotional she had gotten just by looking at her face because it resembled her mother’s, Alberta replied, “Because I’ve made quite a few mistakes.”
She didn’t wait for Jinx to ask a follow-up question or admonish her for exaggerating past history. She didn’t want to discuss or defend her remark. It was the truth, she knew it, and Jinx knew it as well even though her youthful spirit and her love for her grandmot
her would instinctively make her want to assure Alberta that she was being too hard on herself and judging herself too harshly. So Alberta quickly got out of the car and started walking toward the front doors of the school causing Jinx, who was fumbling with her purse, to do a little jog to catch up with her grandmother so they could make their entrance together.
Just as Alberta was going to ring the buzzer in order to have Sharon open up the front door, Jinx pushed it open with ease. “Someone must’ve forgotten to lock it.”
“That’s weird,” Alberta said. “The last time Joyce and I were here this early the door was locked, which is why we went around the back and saw her and Kichiro doing what they, um, really shouldn’t have been doing on school property.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Jinx replied, “I guess without Kichiro, Sharon has no reason to lock the doors any longer. It’s not like she’s going to have a clandestine romp in the boiler room with her husband.”
Only slightly shocked by her granddaughter’s racy comment, Alberta waved a finger at Jinx nonetheless just to keep her on her toes. She didn’t mind that Jinx was all grown up, but she did like to remind her that no matter the age it was still appropriate to act like a lady. Especially when they were kind of breaking into a Catholic high school to accuse its principal of being a murderess.
Walking down the corridor, Alberta was glad that she and Jinx were wearing rubber-soled shoes, Jinx was sporting a pair of flat ballet slippers in a color that Alberta could only describe as pistachio, while she was wearing a simple brown leather slip-on with a wedge heel. Neither shoe caused any sound while they walked down the hall toward the principal’s office, but even if they were wearing stilettos with a metal heel they probably wouldn’t have been heard because in the distance all they could hear was Sharon’s shouting.
“What is she yelling about?” Jinx asked.
“And who is she yelling at?” Alberta asked in reply.
They couldn’t make out exactly what Sharon was saying nor could they hear anyone shouting back at her, but her cries carried down the hall quicker than the latest teenage gossip.
Alberta and Jinx huddled close together as they tiptoed down the hall making sure that they made as little sound as possible so as not to interfere or stop Sharon and her unseen sparring partner end their verbal scuffle prematurely.
