Confession Is Murder (24 page)

Ohmigod. How could she have been so stupid? Practically accusing Flo of killing Joseph. She smacked herself on the forehead. The answer was right under her nose the whole time.

She had to call Flo and tell her. She dialed the phone as she picked at the last of the potato chip crumbs. Flo answered on the second ring. Lucille told her everything. Flo said she thought Lucille was crazy. Besides, she was about to get in bed, so could they please talk about it in the morning?

Lucille was hanging up the phone when she caught sight of the edge of a piece of paper sticking out from under the chip bag. She teased it out.

It was a note scrawled in pencil on a piece of scratch paper. “Yo, Ma,” it said. “I’m over at Auntie Connie’s. She called and said she had something for me.” There was no signature, but Lucille figured she didn’t need to be no rocket scientist to figure out Bernadette had written it.

Her heart started racing and a burning sensation rose in her chest. What did Connie want with Bernadette? Lucille didn’t think it had nothing to do with Connie wanting to give Bernadette something.

Oh, God. Her baby was in the hands of a murderer. Flo might think she was crazy, but Lucille knew she was right. Connie had killed not once, but twice—first Joseph and then poor old Mrs. Batalata. Lucille was sure of it—it all fit, now that she thought about it.

She had to get Bernadette away from there.

Or else who knew what Connie would do next?

Chapter 20

It was like one of them dreams, Lucille thought, where you’re trying to run but you can’t get nowheres even though your feet are moving and your arms pumping. First she couldn’t find her pocketbook, then it was her keys. She finally turned her purse upside down and shook everything out.

Nothing. She poked around inside her empty handbag. The lining was ripped along the bottom, and the keys were stuck half in and half out. Lucille fiddled around until she was able to get hold of them. There was something else stuck in there too. It felt like the edge of an envelope.

Lucille pulled it out. It was the missing bank deposit from the church. It had been in her purse all along. She tossed it onto the couch. She didn’t have time to think about it now. She had to get over to Connie’s and make sure nothing didn’t happen. She supposed they would have to call the police eventually. What a shame, really. Two good lives destroyed.

Lucille stopped dead in the driveway. The van was gone. Someone must have stolen it. She was ready to run back into the house when she remembered everything—Sambuco, him driving her home, the kiss, Frankie, everything. She groaned and looked around. All the houses were dark—there wasn’t no one she could ask for a ride. She thought of calling Flo, but that would take too long. She’d just have to walk.

The night was black with the moon hidden behind puffy clouds that reminded Lucille of marshmallow fluff. She pulled her leather jacket tighter around her. It made her think of Frankie, and she had to force herself not to cry. Soon this would all be over, and maybe she and Frankie could put the pieces back together again.

She turned onto Springfield Avenue. It was creepy being out so late like this. A gust of wind blew through the leaves in the gutter, and Lucille jumped. She could feel the hairs rising on the back of her neck. Every shadow looked monstrous and threatening. If it weren’t for Bernadette, she’d run back home and dive under the covers. She said a quick prayer to St. Dagobert II, patron saint of kidnap victims, and kept walking.

She couldn’t imagine what on earth Connie wanted with Bernadette. She must have gone right off her head from the guilt and shame of what she’d done and not being able to talk to nobody about it.

Lucille quickened her pace. She didn’t think Connie would hurt Bernadette. Still . . .

Suddenly a car roared into view, lights blazing and horn blaring. It was coming down the wrong side of the street, bumping up and down off the curb, veering across the white line and then back again. It came to rest right in front of Lucille.

She backed away with her hands held out in front of her. She couldn’t see inside the car, but she could just imagine a gang of men intent on kidnapping. Or maybe aliens even. She’d seen something like it on the cover of one of those newspapers they sell by the checkout counter at the A&P. Come to think of it, the car did look kinda funny.

The window on the driver’s side went down slowly. “It’sssss too late to be out walking. Want a ride?” Cousin Louis hiccoughed through the opening.

“Cousin Louis, you scared me! What are you doing out so late?”

“Visiting a sick friend.”

Sick friend indeed, Lucille thought as she climbed into the car. The leather on the passenger seat was cracked and had been mended with black electrical tape, and there was a hole in the dashboard where the radio should have been. No doubt Cousin Louis had been back to that pawn shop in Newark again.

Lucille held on to the door handle as Cousin Louis did a U-turn in the middle of the street, bumping up and down off the curb twice before coming to rest in the right direction.

“Can you hurry?”

“No problem, my dear.”

Lucille was flung back in her seat as the car shot forward. She just hoped they weren’t too late.

“Take a left here.” Lucille clung to the door handle as they turned the corner on two wheels.

Cousin Louis cut it a bit short, and they went up over someone’s lawn and then down again. Lucille looked back but didn’t see any damage. One more block to go.

“Right here. Stop right here.”

Cousin Louis slammed on the brakes. It seemed to Lucille that it was taking forever for them to stop. Maybe he should think about having his brake fluid checked? They finally did come to rest with the car bumper just touching the white picket fence that ran along the front garden.

“Nice house,” Cousin Louis said before falling asleep with his head propped against the steering wheel.

The house looked very tidy, and even in the darkness Lucille knew that the trim was fresh, the bushes primped, the walk swept free of falling leaves. She made her way up the path as quietly as possible, although they’d already made quite a racket, what with Cousin Louis’s squealing brakes and the lights stuck on high beam.

She listened but didn’t hear anything. She tiptoed around the side and could just see a pool of light spilling from the kitchen window. That figured. When women gathered it was almost always in the kitchen.

She tried the handle of the front door and it turned slowly and silently.

The scene in the kitchen looked perfectly normal when Lucille entered. Connie and Flo were at the kitchen table, coffee cups at their elbows and a cake sitting out in the middle of the table. Bernadette was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. At least it would have looked normal except for the gun in Connie’s hand.

The cake was a carrot cake with cream cheese icing. Looking at it made Lucille hungry again. It was sitting on a pretty beige plate with pink trim, just like the one Connie took Mrs. Batalata when she went to kill her.

“We’ve been expecting you,” Connie said.

“I came right over after you called me.” Flo licked a bit of icing off her finger. “I figured you wouldn’t be far behind, and I didn’t want you to come alone.”

The gun looked so strange in Connie’s tiny hand with its neatly manicured, coral-colored nails. It was pretty steady, Lucille noticed. But then Connie always did do everything perfectly.

“Why don’t you sit down, Lucille.” Connie motioned to one of the empty seats. “Would you like some coffee and cake?”

She sure could go for something to eat, Lucille thought. It was nice of Connie to take the trouble. She poured some coffee from the carafe on the table and cut herself a nice wedge of carrot cake. She had a big bite and washed it down with some coffee. She hoped it was decaf or else she’d never get to sleep, and she hated when that happened.

“Good cake, Connie.”

“Thank you. It was one of Joseph’s favorites.” Connie began to sniffle.

Lucille put a hand over Connie’s—the one without the gun. The gun made her nervous—she didn’t want to get nowheres near it.

“Oh, Lucille, why did it have to happen? Why? If only we could have had a baby, then everything would have been okay.”

“You want to tell me about it? Because sometimes it helps to get stuff like that off your chest, you know?”

“I don’t know, Lucille. It’s really terrible.”

“Listen, don’t worry about it. I think I already figured it out anyway. But why don’t you tell me in your own words. It will do you good.”

Connie nodded, sniffling. “You’re right.”

Lucille looked at the cake and wondered if Connie would mind if she took another piece. She cut herself a slice. Under the circumstances, it didn’t seem like it would matter one way or the other.

“Joseph always gave me everything I wanted.” Connie poured another cup of coffee. “Except a baby. We never could have one.”

Lucille glanced at Flo, and Flo rolled her eyes. She had pushed her chair back from the table and was sitting with her arms crossed over her chest.

“And I thought it was because he just wasn’t all that interested in, you know,” she glanced over at Bernadette and her voice dropped to a whisper, “sex. But it wasn’t that at all.” She glared at Flo, and the gun wobbled in her hand. “Joseph was plenty interested—he just couldn’t let himself give in to the . . . urge . . . because of being traumatized in his youth.”

“Traumatized?” Lucille picked up the crumbs from her cake with her index finger.

“Maybe Flo should tell us about it.” Connie waggled the gun in Flo’s direction.

“What about me?” Flo sat upright in her chair. “Don’t you think I was traumatized, too?”

“Yeah, but you got what I’d always wanted. A son.”

“Do you think it was easy raising him alone? Working all day and taking care of a baby at night? Never having quite enough money or a house of my own or pretty clothes and fancy vacations?”

Connie and Flo glared at each other.

Lucille leaned forward between them. “What’s this about a trauma?”

“It’s all her fault.” Connie pointed the gun at Flo. “She did it to him.” Connie began to cry.

“It’s like this, Lucille,” Flo began. “Like I told you, Joseph had never been with anyone before me, and he was saving himself for marriage—”

“Yes, and if you hadn’t seduced him, none of this would have ever happened.” Connie wiped her nose with her napkin. “Joseph knew it was a sin, but he couldn’t help himself. And then you got pregnant,” she nearly spat the word at Flo, “and he thought that was his punishment.”

“His punishment?” Flo half rose from her seat. “What about me? I was the one who had to deal with it.”

“I don’t understand.” Lucille looked from one to the other as she poured herself another cup of coffee. This stuff sure better be decaf.

“Joseph thought that Flo getting pregnant was his punishment, and it became all mixed up with sex, and it made him think he shouldn’t ever do it again.” Connie sniffled. “Of course we did do it sometimes, but Joseph got so upset after. I never could understand why, but now it looks like it was all mixed up in his head somehow, and he was convinced it was wrong.”

She put the gun down for a moment to blow her nose, and Lucille wondered if she ought to take it from her, but then Connie crumpled the napkin and picked the gun up again.

“I saw this movie on the Lifetime channel,” Connie continued, “where this husband just never wants to have anything to do with his wife, and she can’t figure out why. She gets a new hairdo, loses weight, buys some new clothes.” Connie shrugged. “But nothing works. Then one day she discovers he’s been having an affair. So no wonder he wasn’t interested!”

Connie lowered the gun again, and Lucille started to put out a hand.

“You’re not taking my gun. No one’s taking this away from me.” Connie leveled the barrel at Lucille, and Lucille leaned back in her seat. “Anyway, I started to wonder about Joseph. And maybe whether he was having an affair like that guy in the movie, and that’s why he wasn’t interested. The only time he could have done it was on Wednesday nights when he went out for his Knights of Columbus meetings. I got to thinking. What if he wasn’t going to those meetings after all? What if he was seeing another woman?”

Lucille nodded. She had her eye on the gun. In case Connie put it down again. Someone could get hurt the way she was waving that thing around. It looked like the gun her grandfather brought home from World War I and kept in his sock drawer. Maybe it was too old to work? But she didn’t want to take no chances. Especially not with Bernadette in the room. Better to catch Connie when she wasn’t looking and just take it.

“I decided to follow Joseph.” Connie sniffed and raised her head. “I had to know.” Her lip quivered, and she began to cry again. “And it was just like that lady on television. Joseph had another woman, and that’s why he didn’t want me.” Connie was crying steadily now.

Lucille helped herself to a third slice of cake. All this stress was making her hungry. “Here, have another piece.” She slid some cake onto Connie’s plate. “It will do you good.” She pushed the plate toward Connie. “So what did you do after that? After you found out Joseph was going to Flo’s house?”

“Nothing.” Connie shuddered. “I couldn’t think, I was so upset. I thought maybe I should get Father Brennan to talk to Joseph, get him to quit seeing Flo. Because even after I knew about . . . about Flo and Joseph, I was still willing to work on our marriage.” Connie sniffled. “It was terrible. Every day I would wake up, and it would be the first thing on my mind. Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. I decided I had to confront Flo and ask her to leave Joseph alone.”

“That must have been the argument Carmela at the beauty parlor told me about.” Lucille reached for another piece of cake and then changed her mind. She’d had enough. She was beginning to get a little heartburn.

Connie nodded. “Things didn’t go the way I’d hoped. It was even worse than I’d thought. Joseph wasn’t going to Flo’s house to see her—he was going to see his son!” Connie started to cry and began waving the gun around the table. “It’s not fair! She got the one thing I’d always wanted!”