“He is pretty old now, but he did have an after school program to keep kids out of trouble, so maybe we’ll get lucky.”
***
“And he’s back,” Juliana said with a smile when she arrived at the shop and saw Nico busily working.
“Yeah, how about that?” He pointed toward the work table “I just finished making the beg-als,” he said, “and now I’m on my second tray of cupcakes. These are really fun to make, and—” Nico stopped talking when he saw Juliana make a mad dash to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came out, barely able to talk.
“Oh god, I’m so sick.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’ve had cramps all night. It started right after we had dinner. I threw up a few times and thought it was over, but now I’m suddenly feeling light-headed.”
“I think you’re probably coming down with something. It seems like every time the weather changes, more and more people get sick.”
She groaned. “I can’t get sick. I have a shop to run.”
“Then it’s good that I’m here. Now, go home. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You can and you will. I can manage this by myself.”
“No. I only live down the street.” She stopped and held onto the chair, her hand braced over her face. “Will you get me something to drink, please?”
“Sure. I saw a bottle of ginger ale in the fridge. That should help with the nausea.”
“Okay.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” He walked over and helped her ease into the chair.
“I think I should call 9-1-1.”
“No. I’ll be okay. Just the drink.” He rushed to the fridge and pulled the bottle out and quickly got back to where she was sitting. She stood and took the bottle, then tipped her head back, taking a long swig. He could see she wasn’t steady on her feet.
“I don’t think you’re in any shape to walk out of here. Let me help you,” he said.
She braced herself by holding onto the back of the chair.
“I really think you should sit for a few more minutes.”
“No, I don’t—” was all that came out of her mouth before her knees buckled and she collapsed in his arms.
“Oh god, oh god,” Nico said and laid her down on the floor so he could call 9-1-1. Reaching out to take her pulse, he was semi-relieved when her heart rate was racing. A short while passed before the medics arrived. As he watched them lift her onto the gurney, his heart ached. The EMTs asked for a timeline of what happened and they called it into the hospital. He watched them insert a needle into an IV that brought her back to consciousness. Just before they shut the door of the vehicle, he heard her yell out for him.
Anxious to show Juliana he was concerned for her well-being, he locked the shop and tucked the key into his breast pocket, following behind the vehicle until they reached St. Helena’s hospital on Woodland Road. Waiting on the sidelines while they rolled Juliana into the ER, she held out her hand for him to take. “I’m here. Don’t worry. You’re going to be okay.” Guilt punched his insides. What the hell was happening? And why were all these women he’d been affiliated with dying? Nico, called Nonna ChiChi to tell her what happened, and an hour later, she was walking down the hall of the ER looking for him. When Nico saw her, he stood and gestured to where he was waiting.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Last night she had stomach cramps, then she walked in this morning feeling sick and made a couple of trips to the bathroom. It looked like she was coming down with something, but when she passed out, I called 9-1-1.” He shook his head in despair and huffed out a breath.
***
It seemed to Nico that finding out what happened to her was taking longer than normal, but when he saw the doctor walk through the door of the waiting room, he quickly rose to his feet
“How is she?” he asked.
“Do you know when she ate last?”
“I don’t know if she had anything this morning, but I do know what she had for dinner, because we ate together. She had Pad Thai. She complained of feeling nauseous with stomach cramps this morning when she arrived and mentioned she’d had cramps all night. That’s all I know. Oh, and we also had wine—a Riesling.” The doctor looked at him oddly. “What?”
“Ms. Marino is being poisoned by something. Based on her symptoms, my best guess is something like arsenic.”
Nico and ChiChi gasped.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have to report this to the Poison Control Center.”
Nico turned to Nonna ChiChi. “You know exactly what this means, don’t you?” he said after the doctor walked away.
“What does it mean?”
“The sheriff’s department will be here to arrest me.” Nico shook his head in despair. “One more time that I’m at a place where someone has been poisoned.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth when Sheriff Jack and his deputies were walking down the hall toward him. Reaching inside his pocket, he gave Nonna ChiChi the key.
“Take this,” he said.
Before he could say another word, the deputies were pulling him to his feet.
“Nico DeLuca, you are under arrest for the murder of Lyndsey Williams and the attempted murder of Juliana Marino. Please turn around. You have the right to remain silent . . ..”
“That isn’t true,” Nico said. “Someone is setting me up.”
“That’s what they all say.”
Tears rolled down ChiChi’s cheeks. Nico winced when they placed the cuffs on his wrists.
“You stop hurting him.”
“Mrs. DeLuca, you either step back or you’ll be in the cell next to him.”
“I’m calling Henry,” she said to Nico. “Don’t say a word until he gets there.” She followed behind the deputies as they walked out of the hospital. Onlookers stared with shocked faces. ChiChi put her head down. “Henry’s on his way,” she called out when they held Nico’s head down to help him into the backseat of the squad car. Nervous and upset, ChiChi had to sit down for a minute to calm her nerves. She called the grannies.
Chapter Thirteen
“WE TOLD YOU we’d get you, Mr. DeLuca,” the sheriff said. “Now, you’ll be going away for a very long time,” he boasted.
“Sir, I have absolutely nothing to hide. You can charge me all you want, but you’ll never be able to pin these charges on me.”
Henry Scarpetta, attorney at law, sat next to Nico in the interrogation room like he was the consiglieri from the Godfather. If anyone could get Nico off, it was him. Dressed in a three-piece suit, his jet black wavy hair, so thick, it could have passed for a wig, cropped his head like a halo. His hair was combed away from his face exposing eyes as dark as coal against his creamy skin and high cheekbones. “I know you’re scared, but just remain calm,” he whispered. Nico nodded in agreement and hid his shaking hands under the table.
“What exactly do you have against my client,” Scarpetta asked.
“Murder One of Lyndsey Williams who was poisoned, and second degree attempted murder of Juliana Marino, who was also poisoned. Fortunately, he got her to the hospital fast enough.”
Scarpetta retorted. “You couldn’t find enough evidence to charge him the first time in Ms. Williams’ death, so what makes you think you can charge him with this recent occurrence?”
“Oh, you just watch us this time. We’ll have enough evidence to put him away for a very long time. He and Ms. Marino were alone in her shop. They ate dinner together. Nice try, Mr. Scarpetta.”
“I didn’t cook the food,” he whispered to the attorney. “Can I say something?” Scarpetta nodded.
“Juliana brought that food into the shop while I was baking. I never left the shop.”
“We know that.”
“Then how can you charge my client?” Scarpetta asked. “How do you know that food wasn’t tainted when she brought it to the shop?”
“I’m glad you brought that up, Mr.
Scarpetta. If your client ate the same food, then why isn’t he sick?”
“I had cramps last night,” Nico blurted out.
“Do you have them now?”
“No.”
“It was probably just gas.” He made a wincing face. “Nah, I’m not buying it. You’re trying to get out of this any way you can. Well, that’s the problem with you rich kids. You’re so used to buying your way out of your problems—sorry kid, it’s not going to work this time.”
“Why don’t you have my client examined then?” Scarpetta suggested.
“We’ve found your stash of arsenic powder,” Sheriff Jack said with smugness.
Hand to God, Nico said, “I swear to you, Sheriff, I did no such thing. Maybe the person who’s after me, put it in there so I’d think it was something else and use it.”
“Your fingerprints are all over the jar.”
“Then maybe I moved it during clean up or out of the way. I don’t even know what arsenic looks like.”
“Sure you do, Mr. DeLuca.”
Nico shut his eyes wishing the scene away. Wishing he’d never come back to St. Helena to be with family after his parents died, because it appeared he was the one who was going to destroy everything his family had worked so hard to build.
“Is that the only evidence you have?” Scarpetta asked.
“No, we have his prints all over that bottle of wine.”
“But that’s because I poured it,” Nico’s voice shot out. Frustrated, he pleaded. “Please, believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe, Mr. DeLuca, it only matters what a jury believes.” Nico swallowed hard, barely able to breathe.
“And nice touch on adding it to the wine. It melts in the liquid and it’s odorless and tasteless. You figured no one would ever suspect a thing—except now, we’ve got you in custody.”
“I swear to you,” he said, holding his hand up, “That bottle was already opened and sitting on the shelf in the walk-in. I noticed it was a Riesling and since we were having Thai food, I knew it would be a good match.”
Nico covered his face with his hands, unable to understand why someone would do this to him. What had he done to deserve this, and why him? Scarpetta patted his arm for comfort.
***
ChiChi pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket when she felt the key Nico had given her. He hadn’t mentioned what the key was for, and now she couldn’t ask him because he was in jail and was about to be arraigned tomorrow. She keyed in Priscilla’s number. “Get ready. We have work to do tonight. Nico’s been arrested.”
“Oh my God, what happened,” she asked.
“I’ll tell you later. I need to run home and get a few things. I’ll meet you at Lucinda’s. Please be ready, because this time it’s gone too far. Bring your pillow. It’s going to be a long night.”
Pulling away from the curb, ChiChi eased into the evening traffic and headed for home. Speeding up her long winding driveway, she shoved the car into park in front of the garage and left the car idling while she raced inside the house. She grabbed her canvas tote bag that said, “Vigilante Granny”. Her mind questioned whether she had everything, then remembered she’d refilled it after the last time to make sure she was ready at a moment’s notice. Inside the bag was a flashlight, a screw driver, a can of mace, granola bars and three bottles of water . . . and a small bag of Kitty Chowhound in case Lucinda forgot.
Setting the bag down by the front door, she entered the dining room, pulled the chair over to the china closet and removed the handgun she’d hidden atop, then slipped the handgun into the waistband of her slacks. Rushing back to the idling car, she tromped down on the gas pedal, the tires screeching as she pulled out onto the main road to Lucinda’s.
If there was one thing ChiChi knew about criminals it was their penchant for returning to the scene of the crime. It was a power play in their minds, a renewal of pride that they’d pulled a fast one and hadn’t been found out. She wasn’t sure tonight would be the right time, but she was going to keep returning to that scene until whoever it was showed up.
At the stoplight, she keyed in a quick text to Priscilla telling her she was close by. Both grannies were outside armed with their own tote bags. Tonight, Lucinda wore a baseball cap covered in rhinestones and a t-shirt that said, “Don’t Mess with a Psycho Granny”. Mr. Puffins, however, the consummate professional dressed for success was wearing a suit and tie. ChiChi barely stopped the car when they got in and shut the door.
“Seat belts,” ChiChi said firmly and took off like a shot. “Hang on ladies, it’s show time.”
“Tell us about Nico,” Lucinda said from the backseat.
ChiChi filled in the details. “The doggie bone woman is in ICU, and Nico’s behind bars. We’ve never had anything like this happen in our family, and I’m scared to death. Scarpetta is with him now, but the real killer wants to make sure Nico remains on the hot seat and never gets out of jail.”
“But you’re not sure the killer will be there tonight,” Lucinda said.
“No, I’m not, but I’m armed and dangerous for when they do.”
“What does that mean?” Priscilla asked.
ChiChi changed the subject before they talked her out of carrying concealed. “If you don’t want to be here, Priscilla, I can let you out.”
“Of course not, but we seem to be dealing in ‘what if’s’ and not factual information.”
“When was the last time you had a killer call to tell you when he was going to show up?”
“You make a good point.”
ChiChi made a right turn into the parking lot behind the shops used only by employees and immediately shut the headlights off. Coasting the short distance, she parked behind the dumpsters.
“Take everything except your pillows,” she whispered. The grannies got out of the vehicle and headed in the direction of The Doggie Bone.
“Do you know how to get inside?” Priscilla asked.
“I’m not sure. Nico gave me a key before he was arrested, so I’m assuming it’s the key to this establishment. He’s been filling in for the full-time chef while she’s on vacation. The owner must have given him the key to the door.” She motioned for the other two to follow her. Trying the key on the back door, she soon realized it did not fit. “We’ll need to go through the front door.”
The other two grannies followed behind without saying a word. The only sound audible was the contented purr from Mr. Puffins who was quite comfortable in his owner’s arms. Reaching the storefront, ChiChi noticed the street lamp in front of this shop was the only light out. Being the suspicious type, she held up her hand for the others to stop and pointed to the darkened light, then walked to the storefront window and peered inside when she saw a bright light flash on, then quickly darken.
“Someone’s in there,” she whispered and made a face. “Is that kismet, or what?” She stepped back to catch her breath before gently inserting the key into the lock. She nodded to the grannies. Eyes wide with fear, they reluctantly nodded back.
“Wait,” Lucinda said, “should we be going in there?”
“How else are we going to catch them in the act?” She turned to look at them, “did you bring your baseball bats?” she asked.
“I forgot mine,” Lucinda said.
“I’ve got mine. Where’s yours, ChiChi?”
“I have a gun.”
“A what?” their heads jerking back in surprise.
“Are you nuts?” their wobbly voices colliding from nerves.
“No, I’m not. It’s our only protection. Here,” she said handing Lucinda her phone, “you take this and call the police when I give you the signal.”
“Shouldn’t I be doing that now?”
“No. I’m not giving that fat ass Sheriff Jerko the satisfaction of taking credit for our hard work. We’re the ones in charge,” she said bravely, “so suck it up, ladies, this is war!”
Releasing a nervous breath, ChiChi felt light headed, but she knew it was too
late to turn back now. Instead, she forged ahead and entered--her heart pounding like a bongo drum, afraid for their lives. Priscilla and Lucinda clung to one another and stepped in unison. Sensing fear, Mr. Puffins released a loud yowl.
In an instant, the light flipped on and temporarily blinded them, but ChiChi’s gun was already aimed at the two criminals a few feet away. The woman, who was also holding a gun, had it aimed right at them. The bozo standing next to her held a plastic bag filled with white powder.
When the female waved her gun back and forth at the trio, then aimed it directly at ChiChi’s heart, Lucinda nervously slapped her hand against her pocket and the cellphone fell to the ground. ChiChi sensed she was going after it and stopped her.
“Leave it,” she said to Lucinda. “Drop your gun,” ChiChi demanded from the suspect, until she realized she knew her. She gasped, and barely got her name out. “Beth Davies?” she screeched. “You could do something like this to my family after all the years we treated you like a member?” Beth simply stared without blinking an eye. Her accomplice, a tall muscular guy with blond hair, covered in tattoos, looked from one to the other.
“I’m so disappointed in you and Tattoo Boy, over here,” ChiChi said, trying the guilt card first. It always worked with her grandchildren, but neither Beth nor Tattoo Boy seemed to be affected. Beth’s face took on a surly expression.
“I don’t care if you’re disappointed in me, Nonna ChiChi. Your family got what they deserved. Now back off, bitches, before I shoot all three of you” Beth thumbed her nose at ChiChi, “that’s for the three of you. It’s about time you died. You’re old, you’re dried up prunes, and you don’t offer much to society.”
“Really?” ChiChi said realizing Beth was trying to shake their confidence. “You know, when Nico first brought you around, I didn’t like you very much. I never told him because he really liked. So, I tolerated you. Sadly, today, it appears I was right about you, and now, poor Nico has been betrayed by the one friend he thought he knew so well that he was willing to risk me not liking you.” Beth quirked slightly, but squared her shoulders to maintain her status, most likely for the bozo next to her. “And if you think we’re old, we have news for you, Cookie. You just watch us,” ChiChi fired back.
St. Helena Vineyard Series: Desserts Can Be Deadly (Kindle Worlds Novella) Page 6
