by B R Snow
“You’ll get no argument from me,” I said, shaking my head. “But I wasn’t quite sure until I watched you polish off that third soufflé.”
“Funny,” Josie said, rubbing her stomach. “Hey, it was obvious Dot wasn’t going to eat it, and there was no way I was going to let it go to waste.”
“Calducci’s wife was totally hammered by eight o’clock,” I said.
“She’s always hammered, darling,” my mother said.
“Man, she can really put the champagne away,” I said.
“My guess is that she has the same skillset when it comes to bourbon and scotch,” Josie said.
“Okay, Mom, now that they’re gone, how about telling me the story?” I said. “Why is this guy’s name so familiar?”
Jackson and Freddie laughed. I stared at them, then looked at my mother.
“It’s basically like I told you earlier, darling. Jimmy grew up in the area, and we hung out when we were kids. We were buddies.”
Jackson laughed again, and my mother glared at him.
“As long as you weren’t partners in crime, Mrs. C.,” Jackson said.
“Knock it off, Jackson,” my mother said. “Those are just a bunch of unfounded rumors.”
“Right,” Jackson said. “And I’m a ballerina.”
“Would you two mind getting to the point?” I said.
“Think it through, Suzy,” Jackson said, leaning forward. “Slicked back hair, shiny suit, the way he smiles at you while staring a hole in your head. Travels around with a bodyguard.”
“He’s a criminal?” I said.
“No, darling, he’s not a criminal,” my mother said, glaring at Jackson.
“Calducci?” Jackson said, then let his comment hang in the air.
“The mob?” I said, my eyes wide. “Mom, are you saying Calducci is a mafia guy?”
“Of course not, darling,” my mother said. “That’s what Jackson is saying. Jimmy’s not even Italian.”
“Calducci sure sounds Italian to me,” Freddie said.
“He changed his last name after he left town,” my mother said.
“That’s right,” Jackson said. “I can’t even remember what his original name was.”
“Fingerslit,” my mother said quietly.
“That’s it,” Jackson said, laughing. “Little Jimmy Fingerslit.”
“I probably would have changed it, too,” Josie said, frowning. “Fingerslit. Not good.”
“But why did he change it to an Italian name?” I said to my mother.
“I guess it helped him fit in better with his new community,” my mother said.
“I’m sure it did,” Jackson said, laughing again.
“Jackson, you’ve been watching too many movies,” my mother said. “And all you’re doing is helping perpetuate a myth about the Italian community.”
“Sorry to disagree with you, Mrs. C.,” Jackson said. “And while I’d never do anything that might offend my many Italian friends when the shoe fits, right? Calducci is on the radar of every law enforcement agency on both sides of the River, and you know it.”
“Perhaps,” my mother said. “But Jimmy is a businessman who runs many legitimate companies.”
“Name one,” Jackson said.
“Well, for starters, one of his businesses is a restaurant supply company that specializes in meats and cheeses,” my mother said. “And weren’t you raving earlier this evening about the mozzarella in the Caprese?”
“Actually, Mrs. C.,” Chef Claire said. “I make that mozzarella in-house.”
“Really?” my mother said, raising an eyebrow at Chef Claire. “Well then, bravo, my dear.”
“Will you forget the mozzarella?” I said, my voice rising.
“I’ll never be able to forget it,” Josie deadpanned. “It’s life-affirming.”
“Mom, are you saying that some of the stuff we’re using in the restaurant is supplied by the Mob?”
“No,” my mother said. “Not technically. I’m pretty sure the meat and cheese operation is legitimate.”
“But you’re not positive?” I said, glaring at her.
“Tomato, tomahto, darling.”
“Morrie the Meat Guy?” Chef Claire said. “You mean to tell me that nice old man works for this guy Calducci and is mobbed up?”
“No, of course not,” my mother said, now completely playing defense and not liking it one bit. “Morrie doesn’t work for him, per se. Jimmy’s role is more of an overseer.”
“Overseer as in the guy who holds a gun against your head while looking over your shoulder,” Jackson said.
“Knock it off, Jackson,” my mother said.
“I can’t believe you brought a mob guy into our new restaurant,” I said.
“I did no such thing, darling. Just try to tell me that the meat and cheese products aren’t some of the best you’ve ever tasted. And that whole mob thing is just an old wives’ tale.”
“It’s just such a pity that most of them don’t live long enough to tell it,” Jackson said, laughing.
“You’re not funny, Jackson,” my mother said.
“No, I think you’ve gotta give him credit for that one, Mrs. C.,” Josie said, nodding. “That was good.”
“Thanks, Josie,” Jackson said.
“Geez, Mom,” I said. “What are you doing hanging around this guy?”
“I already told you,” my mother said. “And I must say, darling, as usual, you’re overreacting. We’re simply old friends, and when he told me was going to be in town for Memorial Day, I invited him to join us for dinner.”
“Well, if Jimmy Calducci is in town, you can bet somebody is about to be in a world of hurt,” Jackson said.
“Jackson, don’t you have some parking tickets to write?” my mother said, again glaring at our chief of police.
“Not until morning, Mrs. C.,” Jackson said, grinning. “All I’m saying is that when Calducci is around, trouble seems to follow close behind.”
“He was just here for the food,” my mother said. “And he was also nice enough to invite all of us out on his houseboat tomorrow as his guest. Based on this conversation, I’m glad I had the foresight to decline his generous offer.”
“You didn’t feel like spending the day on the River with him and his two goons?” Jackson said, laughing.
“You should probably let it go, Jackson,” I said, unable to miss the look on my mother’s face. Then I paused and thought about his comment. “Two goons?”
“Yeah, Pee Wee, the guy with no neck, and Franny,” Jackson said.
“The sleepy one with the narrow eyes?” I said, frowning.
“Don’t let that fool you,” Jackson said. “She’s one of the top shooters around.”
“A hit woman? She actually shoots people for money?” I said, staring at him in disbelief.
“Yeah, I’m sure Fatal Franny does it for money. Or when she’s just in a bad mood, and you happen to look at her the wrong way,” Jackson said.
“Fatal Franny?” I whispered.
“Kinda catchy, huh?” Jackson said.
“Mom, I don’t want those people hanging around the restaurant,” I said.
“Relax, darling,” my mother said. “They don’t even live in the area. Besides, Jimmy would never do anything that might embarrass me.”
“You mean like shoot somebody in the parking lot?” I said.
“Drop it, darling,” my mother said. “You’ve made your point, and you’re starting to repeat yourself.”
“Geez, Mom,” I said, shaking my head at her. “I’m really sorry about that. I just didn’t know that I’d be sharing opening night dinner with a mobster.”
“Don’t forget, darling,” my mother said, giving me a crocodile smile. “You also spent the evening with your best friends and me. Not to mention our mayor.”
“Yeah, I was wondering about that, Mrs. C.,” Jackson said. “What’s the history between Howard and Calducci? I picked up on some bad blood between them.”
“Yes,” my mother
said, nodding. “They’ve never been able to get past it. Howard used to date Jimmy’s wife, Dot. And they were quite an item for a couple of years. Then Jimmy came back into town one summer and swept Dot off her feet. Howard never forgave him.”
“The way she looked by the end of the night,” Jackson said. “I’d say Howard might have dodged a bullet there.”
“She’s had a tough go of things,” my mother said. “And the booze certainly isn’t helping. She still looks great, but you should have seen her back in the day. She could have almost rivaled Josie in the looks department.”
“Why thanks, Mrs. C.,” Josie said, beaming. “You’re so sweet.”
“You’re welcome, dear,” my mother said, glaring at me. “It’s nice to see that someone notices.”
“Geez, Mom,” I said, shaking my head. “All right. You win. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”
“Apology accepted, darling,” my mother said, settling back into the couch. “But I must admit that those two creatures Jimmy has working for him were almost enough to put me off my food. The one called Pee Wee looks like he could explode at any minute. He seems incredibly unstable.”
“I don’t know Mrs. C.,” Josie deadpanned. “From what I saw, it looked like he had a pretty good grip on things most of the evening.”
I snorted and laughed until my mother cut it short with a glare.
“Don’t be disgusting, Josie,” my mother snapped.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” she said. “My hands were on the table the whole time.”
Chapter 3
I slowed down when we left the main shipping channel, and we waved at a tour boat that was just departing from Boldt Castle, one of the prime tourist attractions in the area. Captain and Chloe recognized the castle as we cruised past it, and they began pacing back and forth and excitedly wagging their tails.
“They know where we’re going,” Josie said, nodding her head at the dogs.
“They’re both way too smart,” I said, laughing. “You guys want to go for a swim?”
Chloe barked once, and Captain sat down in front of Josie and placed a massive paw on her leg.
“Hold your horses,” Josie said, rubbing the Newfie’s head, which, like the rest of him, seemed to be getting bigger by the day.
We’d spent the day at the Inn dealing with many of the same issues we did most weekends during the summer. And this year’s Memorial Day looked like it wouldn’t be any different. A couple of lost dogs were dropped off at the Inn, then eventually reunited with their concerned owners. Two other dogs had helped themselves to their family’s barbecue when no one was looking and eaten several hamburgers stuffed with chopped onions. After the owner arrived with both dogs, he eventually fessed up after persistent questioning from Josie, that both Labs had also eaten an unattended pot of grilled onions. Josie and Sammy had induced vomiting in both dogs, flushed their stomachs, and gave both of them a bath to help prevent external infection. After keeping a close eye on the dogs for most of the afternoon, they were released, and they left the Inn happily wagging their tails while their embarrassed owner left with his tail tucked between his legs.
We were still trying to adjust to the fact that Chef Claire wasn’t often around during dinner. And now that the restaurant was open, we’d be seeing even less of her. After a dinner of leftover lasagna, we’d decided to take the dogs out on the boat and head to the Lake of the Isles. The early evening air was warm, but I knew the water was still freezing. And since the water in the Lake of the Isles was shallower, it tended to warm up before other sections of the River. I knew the dogs really didn’t care too much about the water temperature, but, on their behalf, I did.
Especially since they’d be shaking themselves off all over me when they got out.
The area of the St. Lawrence known as the Lake of the Isles was quiet despite the holiday weekend. Most boaters had already headed home to have dinner and get ready for their evening activities, and the surface of the water was like glass. Just before I could comment on how the water skiers were missing out on perfect conditions, I spotted a woman in a wetsuit executing a perfect slalom run at a high rate of speed. Then she let her weight get too far forward, caught the tip of her ski in the wake, and catapulted face-first into the water.
“Ouch,” Josie said. “That’s gotta hurt.”
“Yeah, it does,” I said, remembering my own experience with the dreaded tip catch when I was younger. “But she’s laughing, so she must be okay.”
We watched the woman climb into the boat, and then it sped off leaving us and the setting sun by ourselves.
“I still don’t understand why this place is called a lake,” Josie said, opening a fresh bag of bite-sized Snickers.
“Josie, you do this every time we come here,” I said, grabbing a small handful from the bag. “Let’s not have this conversation again.”
“It’s technically still part of the River,” she said. “And a lake is a body of water completely surrounded by land, not just on three sides. Why isn’t it called a bay, or maybe an inlet?”
“It’s a mystery all right,” I said, exhaling as I slowed, then turned the boat off to drift. “You guys ready for a swim?”
Captain, closely followed by Chloe, launched himself off the back of the transom and started to powerfully swim away from the boat. Chloe did her best to keep up, but Captain was in his element. After a couple of minutes, Josie whistled loudly, and Captain turned and started back toward the boat. Josie tossed a handful of tennis balls in the water, and both dogs made a beeline for them.
“Watch this,” Josie said, laughing.
Captain, despite Chloe’s best efforts, ended up with all four balls in his mouth and he swam back to the boat with what looked like an enormous yellow grin. Chloe wasn’t happy, and she playfully nipped at Captain’s ear as they approached. Captain finally agreed to drop one of the balls and Chloe snatched it out of the water and raced back to the boat. We repeated the water version of fetch several times until both dogs were breathing heavily then helped both of them back onto the boat, getting soaked in the process. Then we got drenched when both dogs shook the water off.
“Wow,” Josie said, shivering. “That water is still freezing.”
“You know, when I was a kid, I wouldn’t have thought twice about going in the water on Memorial Day,” I said.
“You mean before you were old enough to know any better?”
“Exactly,” I said, laughing. “Now I understand why my mother always refused to go in this time of the year.”
Josie grabbed two towels, tossed me one, and we both rubbed them vigorously over the dogs.
“Okay, Chloe,” I said, standing up to examine my work. “You can air dry on the way home.”
I started the boat, and we retraced our route on the way out. I spotted another boat off in the distance, and it soon became clear that it was a houseboat. I nudged Josie and pointed at it.
“You don’t think that’s our friendly mobster’s houseboat, do you?” Josie said.
“We’ll know soon enough,” I said. “Is that a dog running around the outside deck?”
Josie grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked through them.
“It certainly is,” Josie said. “And unless I’m mistaken, that is definitely an Elkhound. Probably around six months old. Beautiful dog. What did Calducci say his name was?”
“Oslo,” I said, slowing down as we approached the houseboat that appeared to be drifting. “We need to stop and say hello, or my mother will kill me for being rude.”
I idled up to the houseboat, then turned the boat off. Josie tied ours to the houseboat, and the Elkhound trotted over and accepted a head scratch from Josie as it kept a wary eye on Captain and Chloe who were both glancing up at Oslo. The dog had a gorgeous gray and silver coat and was playful. I didn’t have much experience with the breed but knew that they had a reputation for being brave and strong-willed, and extremely loyal. I watched the dog trot back and forth along the railing
of the houseboat, then the Elkhound lost his balance and stumbled before catching himself. It resumed its bizarre trot around the deck of the houseboat that included several wheelies and head shakes. Then it started making a sound somewhere between a howl and a whine.
“Well,” I said, chuckling at the dog’s strange behavior. “Calducci did say the dog was eccentric.”
“No,” Josie said, watching the dog’s movements closely. “That’s not normal. I think something’s wrong with him.”
“Yeah, his owner is a gangster,” I said, grinning.
“No, Suzy,” Josie said. “I’m serious. There’s definitely something wrong with him. I need to get him back to the Inn and take a look.”
Knowing it was useless trying to argue with her when it came to her instincts as a veterinarian, I nodded and climbed aboard the houseboat. I glanced around the impressive top-of-the-line vessel.
“Great boat. Well, we better make sure we have permission before we take Oslo anywhere. I’m not stealing a mobster’s dog,” I said. “Chloe, stay.”
Chloe barked once, but sat down and stayed put. Josie gave Captain the same command, then she joined me on the houseboat. Oslo trotted over and seemed to be listing toward one side. Then the dog started running in a circle, then stopped. He wagged his tail, then trotted away shaking his head.
“You’re right,” I said. “There’s definitely something wrong with him. Let’s go find, Mr. Calducci.”
We approached a double glass door that led down into the galley and living quarters. The blinds inside were closed, and Josie knocked on the glass. When we didn’t get any response, she knocked louder.
“What do you think?” Josie said. “I’d hate to just walk in on them.”
“Yeah,” I said, unsuccessfully trying to peer inside. “Give it one more.”
Josie knocked on the glass again, but we still didn’t get a response.
“They’re probably taking a nap,” I said. “But so be it. We’re not taking Calducci’s dog without permission. C’mon.”
I slid the glass doors open and pushed the curtains back. We walked down a small set of steps directly into what was the living area. We glanced around, found the ornately furnished area empty, then Josie pointed at a closed door I assumed led to the master suite.
