Murder on Memory Lake

by J. D. Griffo

  “Yes, we do,” Alberta said, reaching out to hold Jinx’s hand.

  “Then let’s make it official.”

  Confused, Alberta thought the stressful events may have finally gotten to Jinx. Or could Lisa Marie have done something despicable and told Jinx that she was adopted and not biologically connected to the Ferrara family? “Honey, what are you talking about? It is official, we’re blood.”

  “I don’t mean personally, I’m talking professionally,” Jinx clarified. “Well maybe not super professionally like with an office and a shingle with our names on it, but sorta, kinda professionally.”

  Now Alberta was thoroughly and officially confused. “Jinx, I love you, but are you all right? I have no idea what in heaven’s name you’re talking about.”

  Placing her cup of tea on the black plastic table between them, Jinx shifted her chair so she was directly facing Alberta. “I’m sorry, I know I’m not being clear, it’s just that I have an idea, and it involves you.”

  “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do, you know that.”

  “Well, let me tell you what my idea is before you commit to something you might regret.”

  Surprisingly, Alberta didn’t get nervous because of Jinx’s warning, but rather excited. She had no idea what her granddaughter was going to say, but she had an inkling that it was going to shake up her life even more than it had already been shaken up. And despite having lived a traditional life for her first six decades, she was eager to make up for lost time and embrace unconventionality.

  “Ever since Wyck, my editor, told me I couldn’t investigate Lucy’s murder, I’ve been doing some thinking,” Jinx started. “And I keep thinking, why do I need his permission to investigate? If I do it on my own time, there’s nothing he can say about it. And if I uncover some facts and details that I can use as a reporter, well, I’ll have no choice but to use them, right?”

  Unsure where Jinx’s rationale was leading, Alberta answered warily, “Sure, honey, I guess that’s right.”

  “And then after seeing poor Lucy in the morgue, well I just thought I have to do something, I mean, we can’t just stand by and do nothing, right?” she asked. “So I’ve been thinking . . . with my reporting skills and your knowledge of the murder victim, who better to work together to solve this crime, but me and you!”

  Alberta let Jinx’s statement sink in and her immediate response was to smile. Jinx reminded Alberta of herself when she was a young woman—she had moxie. But instead of burying it to follow tradition and become a wife and mother, Jinx was creating her own life for herself. Alberta couldn’t be prouder of her granddaughter or more excited to join forces with her.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Ignoring her grandmother, Jinx continued, “It’ll give me the chance to prove to Wyck that I’m a good crime reporter, and it’ll give you the chance to avenge your friend’s death. Even though, you know, Lucy wasn’t really your friend. But just think how she’ll react if you uncover who killed her, she’ll be royally pissed off if she has to be eternally grateful to you from beyond the grave!”

  “I said I’ll do it.”

  “And if that isn’t enough of a reason to convince you, it’ll give us a chance to really get to know each other, more than just grandmother and granddaughter, but as two independent women.”

  “Jinx, basta, enough already! If you would just shut up for a second, you’d hear me, I’ll do it!” Alberta said laughing. “I’ll team up with you to find out who killed Lucy.”

  “Oh my God!” Jinx shouted. “Seriously? You mean it? That’s wonderful!”

  As they hugged each other, Alberta looked up at the oak tree, shining magnificently in the purple sky. “Il frutto cade non lontano dall’albero.”

  “What in the world does that mean?”

  “The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree,” Alberta said. “You and me, lovey, we’re very much the same. We’re both looking for a challenge, to find out what breathes life into our soul. I’m just so happy you started your journey much earlier than I did.”

  Looking into her grandmother’s eyes, which were accented by age with crow’s-feet but were the same shade of green as her own, Jinx smiled because she felt exactly the same way.

  CHAPTER 6

  Non tutte le ciambelle riescono col buco.

  Nothing brings a family together like death. Someone dies and families gather. It’s a timeless tradition and when the dead person is a long-lost acquaintance like Lucy, attendance at the wake is more obligatory than mandatory. Such an event feels more like a social gathering than somber affair, which would explain why Alberta was sitting at her kitchen table applying her makeup while the rest of her family was milling about in various stages of undress before they had to leave to pay their final respects.

  Jinx was standing by the sink fully clothed, but only from the waist down, blow-drying her hair. Alberta didn’t care that she was matching her black and gray herringbone just-above-the-knee pencil skirt, stockings, and black slingback pumps with only a bra, she was concerned that she was going to kill herself.

  “Jinx, be careful not to get that thing wet,” Alberta cautioned. “Or else Lucy’ll have company in her casket.”

  “Don’t worry, I do this all the time at home,” Jinx shouted over the noise of the dryer. “The electrical outlet in my bathroom doesn’t work.”

  “Ah, Madon, ‘don’t worry,’” Alberta cursed. “Famous last words.”

  Alberta tilted the mirror on the kitchen table so she could keep a watchful eye on her granddaughter behind her, and took one last look at her makeup. She was disappointed in herself that she was vain enough to care about how she looked for a memorial service, but this one was for Lucy and she had always tried to outdo her nemesis when it came to looks. Old habits die hard.

  Her lipstick was Estée Lauder’s Pink Parfait, which despite its festive name, looked sophisticated and restrained. She only put on a touch of mascara and eyeliner, and her Lancôme eye shadow had the fancy name of Cashmere, but was really just a shade darker than her olive complexion. Alberta ran her fingers through her hair to fluff up her pageboy and was grateful that she still had a thick head of hair, artificially colored of course, but still her own and not a Tova Borgnine wig. She did notice some of the roots turning gray where she parted her hair on the left and made a mental note to make an appointment with Adrianna, the girl at A Cut Above, but overall she was pleased with the sight.

  “Not bad for an old broad,” she said.

  “What?” Jinx shouted as she turned off the dryer.

  “Nothing.”

  Just as Jinx grabbed her freshly ironed black silk blouse from the back of one of the kitchen chairs, the bathroom door opened, and Alberta’s older sister, Helen, emerged. Unlike Alberta, Helen was not happy with Jinx’s outfit.

  “You cannot wear that to a wake!” she declared.

  “Of course not, Aunt Helen,” Jinx agreed. “I’m putting this on.”

  “I don’t care what you put on, underneath you’ll still look like a putan.”

  “Leave her alone, Helen,” Alberta said, screwing the back of her diamond stud earring in place, “It’s a pretty bra.”

  “It’s red! And lacy!” Helen shouted. “And red and lacy have no place in a church.”

  While Jinx finished getting dressed, Alberta finished yelling at her sister.

  “First of all, we’re not going to a church, we’re going to Ippolito’s Funeral Parlor,” Alberta started. “Second, she’s wearing a black blouse, so no one’s gonna know what kind of bra she has on. And third, you of all people should know that God likes fancy things. Have you seen how ornate the priest’s robes are these days? If you squint it’s like Liberace’s delivering mass.”

  “If only Jesus could pack a house like Liberace used to,” Helen mused.

  Helen knew all about priests and mass and churches, because for most of her life she was known as Sister Helen and was a Franciscan nun, until she recently decided she wanted a care
er change after forty-one years and left the convent. She had yet to give an explanation as to why and had only told her Mother Superior that her conviction to leave was as strong as it had been to become a Bride of Christ, and she now wanted a divorce. When Alberta pressed her for a more detailed answer, Helen would only say that it was time for her to move on. Alberta desperately wanted to know the truth behind her sister’s startling decision so she could help her transition back to civilian life, but she knew how stubborn Helen could be and didn’t push the subject.

  Alberta did offer to share the lake house with Helen, but Helen said she had spent her entire adult life bunking with other single women and wanted to experience what it was like to live on her own. Secretly, Alberta was relieved because she wanted that experience as well. She also knew from previous experience that living under the same roof with her sister was not easy. Helen was demanding, outspoken, blunt, and critical, and Alberta figured the only reason the other nuns didn’t throw Helen out of the convent long ago was because they all had the patience of saints.

  “You two know we’re not going to one of those singles bars, right?” Helen asked rhetorically.

  “We know where we’re going, Aunt Helen,” Jinx replied. “But it isn’t a sin to want to look nice.”

  “Actually it is,” Helen corrected. “But I’ll let it slide because you do look very nice in that getup. What about me? Do I look presentable?”

  Jinx smiled at her aunt. Despite Helen’s bristly nature, she loved her. More than that she admired her. Even though she was raised by a lapsed Catholic and didn’t have a strong connection to religion, Jinx knew how hard a nun’s life could be and that it demanded not only devotion but discipline. She also knew that to leave your home, whether it be Eufala, Florida, or a convent, demanded the same amount of courage. Deep down, Helen and Jinx had a lot in common. The surface told another story.

  Helen’s hair was all gray and cut short so she looked like Audrey Hepburn’s grandmother, without any of the movie icon’s fashion sense. She was wearing a black cotton V-neck sweater, a black skirt that fell somewhere between her shins and her ankles, and what could only be described as sensible shoes. The only accessories were the gold crucifix necklace that her parents gave her the day she became a novitiate and her glasses.

  “You look beautiful, Aunt Helen, as always,” Jinx said. “And I love the glasses, are they new?”

  “Yes, I needed a new prescription and I decided to jazz things up a bit,” she replied. “Do you like the color? I call it Blessed Mother Blue.”

  “And I’m sure that makes her very happy,” Jinx said smiling and meaning every word of it.

  Helen grabbed her black leather shoulder bag, put her head through the long strap, and impatiently tapped the bag that hung at her hip. “Can we go now?”

  “We’re just waiting for Joyce,” Alberta said.

  Plopping down on a chair opposite her sister, Helen rolled her eyes and huffed, “When are we not waiting for Joyce?”

  Joyce Perkins Ferrara was the final member of Alberta’s family now residing in Tranquility. Alberta and Helen’s sister-in-law Joyce was separated from their younger brother Anthony and now lived on the opposite side of the lake from Alberta, while Anthony—or Ant as he was more commonly referred to—had lived in Florida for the last several years. Not anywhere near where Jinx grew up, but in fancier Clearwater, off the Gulf of Mexico.

  The rest of the family took their separation much harder than Joyce and Ant did. Each and every Ferrara knew the couple had broken so many conventions and fought so many obstacles just to marry in the first place that it was a devastating blow when they announced that they were essentially calling it quits. It wasn’t a common occurrence to see an African American bride walk down the aisle to be greeted by her Italian American groom, and it had taken a long time for the families on both sides to embrace the idea with the same love that the couple shared for one another. Unfortunately, their love wasn’t strong enough for their marriage to last.

  “I love your brother, I always will, and he loves me,” Joyce had announced. “But we just can’t live together anymore.”

  Neither one of them felt the need to get divorced, not out of any religious observance, but because they had no desire to marry other people. They just knew that they didn’t want to live with each other, so they lived apart.

  Ant moved to Clearwater to live near his cousin Ralphie, working part-time as a plumber and spending his free time fishing, while Joyce moved from their Victorian house in Rutherford, New Jersey, to a lakeside cottage in Tranquility and retired. She had spent decades working as an investment banker, made a ton of money, and just like Helen, one day decided that she had had enough. Since then she’s spent most of her time fulfilling her lifelong dream of becoming a painter.

  “When the sun sets over Memory Lake,” she’d said, “the colors are so beautiful it’s like the paintings just paint themselves.”

  Alberta was quite upset when Joyce and Ant announced their separation because she always thought they had a perfect marriage. However, she was thrilled when her brother announced that he was the one who was moving away because she always liked her sister-in-law better and would have missed having her so close.

  “Here she is now,” Alberta announced.

  Rising from the table, Helen said, “It’s about time.”

  “Sorry I’m late, girls,” Joyce said, bursting into the house. “I just washed my hair and I couldn’t do a thing with it.”

  Alberta and Jinx laughed because Joyce’s hair was a close-cropped Afro that required absolutely no maintenance. Helen failed, or more likely, refused to get the joke.

  “What’s there to do?” she asked. “You have less than an inch of hair on your head.”

  Ignoring her sister-in-law’s barb, Joyce cried, “I love your glasses, Helen! The blue matches your eyes!”

  “Thanks,” Helen replied begrudgingly, then after a pause, she added, “Nice earrings.”

  “You know I love my gold hoops,” Joyce replied. “Reminds me that I had to jump through hoops all my life working with those bastards on Wall Street!”

  Joyce, Alberta, and Jinx laughed, and even Helen allowed herself a smile. They were four very different women, but they had one thing in common, they were family. A family with a mission to fulfill.

  “C’mon, ladies,” Alberta announced. “Lucy needs us.”

  * * *

  Ippolito’s Funeral Home was packed, and Alberta was not happy.

  “Did she pay all these people to come?” she quipped.

  “Alberta, be nice,” Joyce admonished. “I’m sure you’ll have twice as many at your wake when your time comes.”

  “Thank you,” Alberta said. “You always know the right thing to say.”

  Unfortunately, Helen didn’t.

  “Looks like Lucy’s daughter and Jinx shop at the same store.”

  While it was rude to comment negatively about the deceased’s only child, Helen had a point. Enza Saulino, Lucy’s daughter, looked like she really was going to spend the night at one of those singles bars receiving welcomed advances instead of welcoming mourners at her mother’s memorial service. Stiletto heels, bare legs, black sleeveless cocktail dress that stopped mid-thigh, unnaturally black hair pulled back into a ponytail, sparkling jewelry adorning her wrists, ears, and neck, and a face that was shimmering in cosmetics and Botox.

  “Maria Santissima! I’m glad Lucy can’t see this,” Alberta said. “It’s disgraceful.”

  “Non tutte le ciambelle riescono col buco,” Helen added.

  “What’s that mean, Aunt Helen?” Jinx asked.

  “It means not every doughnut comes out with a hole,” she explained.

  “Oh, of course . . . ’cause that makes perfect sense,” Jinx said.

  “It means things don’t always turn out as planned,” Alberta translated further. “A daughter doesn’t always turn out exactly as her mother had hoped.”

  Jinx knew that her grandmoth
er wasn’t only talking about Enza, but about her own mother as well, and once again she felt conflicted. She was thrilled that she and her grandmother were building a strong relationship, but was sad that her mother’s relationship with Alberta had disintegrated. Maybe someday she could help bring those two together, but right now she was more interested in why it seemed like a bejeweled Enza was holding court all by herself when she should have been surrounded by her family.

  When they got to the front of the receiving line, after exchanging the usual pleasantries and condolences, Helen’s blunt approach brought forth some answers.

  “It must be hard for you, staying at your mother’s place all by yourself,” Helen said. “Where’s your husband?”

  “Tito is home sick with an ear infection,” Enza replied, her accent still New Jersey thick even though she’d spent years living thousands of miles away on the west coast. “He couldn’t make the flight.”

  “And Tito, Jr.? Is he sick too?”

  This time, Enza didn’t reply as quickly. “No, no, TJ’s in college . . . exams . . . he wanted to come, he really did, but I told him that Grandma wouldn’t want him to endanger his studies, so I came by myself.”

  “You’re such a good daughter,” Joyce lied. “Lucy always said that.”

  “What else could I do?” Enza replied, squinting hard, but failing to produce any tears. “I’m all she had.”

  “And it looks like you now have everything she ever had,” Helen commented. “Take good care of that diamond necklace, it was your mother’s favorite.”

  No amount of Botox could prevent Enza’s face from showing her inner rage. Her eyes glared, her silicone-injected lips snarled, and her chemically enhanced mask of a face shifted just enough to let her anger shine through. Luckily, one of the funeral home’s staff came up to Enza at that moment and whispered something in her ear.

  “Excuse me,” Enza said through clenched teeth.

  “Of course,” Helen replied as spokesperson for the group. “Don’t let us keep you.”

  When Enza was out of earshot, Jinx proclaimed, “Oh my God, Aunt Helen, Aunt Joyce, you two are born detectives! You’re really going to be able to help me and Grandma.”