Confession Is Murder (13 page)

Sambuco looked down and examined his fingernails. “How did your husband get along with the deceased?”

“What?” Lucille put both hands flat on the desk. “Joseph and Frankie, you mean? Like brothers. They was like brothers. Frankie thought the world of Joseph—he was a hard worker, an honest man.”

“They didn’t argue?”

“No. Why would they?”

Sambuco leaned over until his face was level with Lucille’s. “People do. Maybe they had different ideas about the business. Maybe they liked different sports teams.”

Lucille was shaking her head. “No. Not my Frankie and Joseph. Like I said, Frank thought the world of Joseph.”

Sambuco grinned. “Yes, but how did Joseph feel about Frank?”

“The same, I’m sure. The same. Why?”

Sambuco jumped off the edge of Lucille’s desk, went over to the wall, and began to examine the church calendar. “No particular reason,” he sighed. “In my job I got to ask a lot of questions, that’s all.”

Lucille nodded.

Sambuco turned around and pointed at her coat and handbag. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lucille clutched the handle of her purse. “I gotta wait for Flo anyway, on account of the Olds being in the shop.”

Sambuco raised his eyebrows and jerked a thumb in the direction of the door. “I can drop you. My car’s just outside, and I’m going off duty in”—he consulted his watch—“one minute.”

“Thanks, but Flo is probably already on her way over.”

“That’s too bad.” Sambuco smiled at her.

He had a way of looking at you, Lucille realized, that let you know that
he
knew you were a woman. She shivered. It had been a long time since she’d thought of herself as more than just someone to cook dinner, clean the house, listen to problems, and basically pick up the pieces.

She rather liked it.

• • •

“Sorry I’m late.”

Lucille slid into the warmth of Flo’s car. She hadn’t even noticed the time. She’d been thinking about Sambuco and how he made her feel. Maybe it was time she thought of herself a little more and lost the twenty pounds she’d put on over the last few years. Maybe do something different with her hair.

Funny Sambuco asking all those questions about Frank and Joseph when they’d already arrested Tony Jr. for the murder. Did that mean the police no longer thought he’d done it?

It wasn’t until she had already gotten out of the car in front of her house that she realized she still hadn’t told Flo about Bernadette and the pregnancy test.

Chapter 9

Lucille woke in a sweat. It must have been the dream. They were in church, regular Sunday Mass, but Father Brennan was wearing Frankie’s black leather jacket instead of his usual vestments. Just before Communion, bodies began falling out of the confessionals. Lucille was in the back and had to fight her way through the panicking crowd to where Frankie was sitting up front. Her mother was there, too, wearing an NFL sweatshirt and a lot of that jewelry like they sell on QVC. She was sitting next to Bernadette, who had a crying baby slung over her shoulder, and Mrs. Batalata, who was clutching a set of rosary beads that looked to be at least fifty feet long.

Lucille shook her head. What on earth did it mean? Must have been that leftover lasagna she’d had for dinner. She’d heard that eating too much before bed could give you nightmares. It sure as hell was giving her heartburn. She put a hand to her chest. It felt like she was having a heart attack. She shouldn’t have eaten so much, but she couldn’t stand to see it go to waste. Besides, she’d been so upset lately over everything that had happened, it was only natural to want to eat something to take her mind off it.

She tried to get back to sleep, but it was no use. She needed some Brioschi. And her mind was going around and around in circles. She kept picturing Frank with different women—Rita at the beauty parlor, that blonde behind the deli counter in the A&P, although she didn’t think blondes were Frank’s type. Maybe he’d go for that redhead over at the drugstore. She had a pretty good figure, too.

And when she wasn’t thinking about Frank, she was worrying about Bernadette and the baby. The pregnancy test had come up positive just like she’d thought it would. Bernadette hadn’t said much of anything—just stood there staring at the stick. Lucille kept telling her everything would be all right. But she sent up a prayer to St. Catherine of Alexandria, patron saint of unmarried girls, just in case.

And on top of everything else, there was that missing bank deposit. Jeanette hadn’t said nothing about it yet, but it was just a matter of time. She couldn’t understand what was taking St. Anthony so long. She said another prayer just in case he hadn’t heard the first one. You never knew—he was probably a pretty busy guy what with people losing things left and right. Her old neighbor—back when they lived in the apartments—Mrs. Goldstein, used to pray to St. Anthony. And Lucille was pretty sure she wasn’t even Catholic.

She was making herself crazy. The house was so still and quiet the way it is in the middle of the night. There wasn’t even the thump from Bernadette’s CD player to keep her company. She stretched a leg out but pulled it back again and shivered. Frankie’s side of the bed was cold.

Finally she decided to get up. No use lying there torturing herself. She pulled on her pink chenille robe and slipped into her fuzzy slippers. She’d see if there was something good on the TV. There was stuff on all night long now, not like in the old days when all you got after midnight were those test patterns. If nothing else she could watch QVC like her mother.

The next thing she knew it was dawn, and the birds were making a racket outside the window. Lucille sat up and rotated her neck and shoulders. Sheesh, she was stiff. She’d fallen asleep with her legs stretched out on the coffee table and her head dropped back against the sofa cushions. She squinted at her watch. Six a.m. A reasonable time to get up. Flo was picking her up at seven thirty to run her over to the garage so she could get the Olds.

• • •

It felt good to be back in the Olds. Lucille ran her hands around the steering wheel and along the dashboard. Her baby. Sure, it was getting old, but so was she. It still hummed along nicely when she hit the gas and opened her up a bit. A good overhaul now and then and they’d have many more years together.

She was going to give herself an overhaul, too. She wasn’t going to let Frankie go without a fight. Funny, here she threw him out and now it looked like he was hankering after this Betty all along. Would he even come back if she asked him to?

She didn’t want to think about that right now. Lucille turned the key, and the Olds started right up. She was going to stick to her diet if it killed her, she decided, maybe even join a gym. They had a workout room over at the YMCA in Summit—that might be a good place to start. She wasn’t ready for none of them fancy-schmancy health spas over on Route 22 with all those perfect young instructors prancing around in expensive spandex exercise clothes. She looked at the clock on the dashboard and turned right onto Springfield Avenue. There was just enough time to grab one of them muffins from the health food place and then head over to the Y to find out about signing up. Janice wasn’t going to be at her desk at JoFra much before nine anyway. And if she didn’t do this now, she knew she never would.

Lucille stared up at the long flight of stairs leading to the entrance of the YMCA and began climbing. She paused midway to catch her breath. People passed her on both sides—women with small children in tow going up, men in suits with gym bags in hand going back down and toward the train station catty-corner across the street. Sheesh, she was getting a workout and she hadn’t even signed up yet.

“Can I help you?” The girl behind the counter paused with one hand reaching for the telephone.

Lucille opened her mouth but couldn’t catch her breath. The girl smiled brightly as she waited.

“I want to find out about joining the Y.” If she didn’t have a heart attack and pass out first, Lucille thought.

“Excellent.” She motioned to someone behind the counter. “Francesca will give you a tour.”

A dark-haired girl with enormous brown eyes came out from behind the front desk. “If you’ll just come with me . . .”

Lucille followed her around the corner, through a door, and into a huge room filled with a bunch of scary-looking machines. She started to back up, but Francesca was right behind her, going on and on about how great this stuff was for getting in shape.

A man on a piece of nearby equipment groaned loudly and let his weights drop back into place with a ground-shuddering clang. Lucille jumped away quickly. Sheesh, she wasn’t sure she was up for this. She could remember her mother watching Jack LaLanne on TV and doing normal exercises like bending down and touching her toes. Didn’t anybody do stuff like that no more?

“Hey, Lucille.” A woman waved from one of the machines. Lucille didn’t recognize her. She had a nice figure although she wasn’t no spring chicken—Lucille could tell by the wrinkles around her eyes and across her forehead. She had short blonde hair styled in one of them new hairdos—all the pieces sticking up every which way. She draped a towel around her neck and walked over to where Lucille was standing.

“Janice! How come I didn’t recognize you?” Lucille gave the woman a quick hug. “I was going to come see you later over at JoFra.” She looked Janice up and down. “I can’t get over how you look.”

Janice grinned. “It was that Oprah show, it transformed my life. I’ve lost weight, got in shape”—she patted her flat abdomen—“fixed myself up a bit.” She leaned closer to Lucille. “Even got myself a new man.”

“No kidding. I didn’t even recognize you.” Lucille looked down at herself. “I’m hoping to do the same myself.”

“Then you’ve got to do the weights.” Janice gestured toward the machines. “If you build muscle, you’ll burn more calories.”

Would she burn up them carbs, too? Lucille wondered. Seeing as how everything you read said you weren’t supposed to be eating none of them.

“I got you one of them health food muffins you like, but it’s still in the car.” Lucille waved in the direction of the parking lot. “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”

“Let’s go out to the lobby. They’ve got some chairs out there.”

She sure could use a chance to sit down after climbing all those stairs, Lucille thought. She looked around for Francesca, but she had disappeared. She shrugged and followed Janice back out to the lobby, past the front desk, and over to a small lounge.

“What a shock about Joseph, huh?” Janice stretched an arm across her chest and pulled it close, pulsing several times.

Lucille took a seat and patted the one next to her.

Janice shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ve got to stretch or I’ll get all tight.” She bent forward, grabbed her ankles and pulled. Lucille winced. “That cop’s been around, asking an awful lot of questions. Not that I mind.” Janice straightened up and grinned.

“Sambuco? Richie Sambuco?”

“Yeah, I think that’s his name.” Janice whistled. “He’s really got it, don’t you think?”

Lucille nodded. She had a sudden vision of herself and Richie back in tenth grade, making out in the backseat of his car. It was that time she and Frankie had broken up for two months. She never meant to go that far with Sambuco . . . If Frankie ever found out, he’d go crazy.

“I told him he was a fool for arresting Tony Jr. You only have to look at that kid to see he wouldn’t hurt nobody.” Janice was on the floor with her legs outstretched, touching her forehead to her knees.

All this getting in shape business looked awful complicated. Lucille wondered how she was going to manage. “I told him the same. Flo and me even went over to talk to the chief, seeing as how he’s Frankie’s cousin.”

“Speaking of Frankie, what’s going on between you two? Frankie’s been sleeping on the cot over at the office, and I’ve been finding an awful lot of plastic microwave containers in the trash lately.”

Lucille shrugged. “Ah, you know, it’s one of them things.” She looked out the window briefly. “So listen, I wanted to ask you something. You ever hear of a guy named Flanagan? Over on Laurel Drive? He’s got a contract with JoFra.”

“Sure.” Janice nodded. “Mondays at 4:30. Joseph usually made it his last stop.”

“He ever call the office and make a complaint?”

“No, why?”

“I heard he had some kind of beef with the service, so I went over to talk to him. Seems he thought Joseph wasn’t doing his job. He actually thought Joseph was, you know, fooling around with his wife.”

“Joseph? No way. That guy is about as straight as they come. Good-looking, but a little too holier-than-thou. When I want religion, I’ll go to church.”

“Yeah, but listen to this. He told Connie he was going to these Knights of Columbus meetings every Wednesday night, see. But I found out that wasn’t true—the Knights of Columbus never even heard of him. This is what I think.” Lucille leaned down closer to Janice, who was still stretched out on the floor. “I think he was seeing someone. On the side, you know.”

Janice raised an eyebrow. “Joseph?”

“Did he ever have any women calling him at the office? Other than Connie, I mean.”

Janice frowned and paused, balancing on one foot with her leg pulled up behind her. “There
was
someone, now that you come to mention it. I guess I never thought anything of it . . . It was only once a month or so. He always ran into his office to take the call.”

Lucille felt a surge of triumph. “Hmmph. It looks like Sambuco just wasn’t asking the right questions. He got all hung up on the idea that Tony Jr. had something to do with it.”

“He’s been around again. Sambuco, I mean. Asking more questions—only different ones this time.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Stuff about Frank and Joseph and how they got along. Did they ever argue.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry, Lucille, but I had to tell him.” Janice pulled the towel from around her neck and wiped it across her face.

“Tell him what?” Lucille’s heart began to thud hard against her chest. Sheesh, if her heart kept doing this she was going to have to make an appointment with one of them heart specialists and that would be the end of her working out.