Confession Is Murder (6 page)

Neither did Lucille sometimes, but she was Frankie’s sister, and family was family.

Lucille glanced at her watch—almost closing time. She pulled the shade down over the window in the door and began to polish the glass countertop. Not that there were all that many fingerprints, Mrs. B. having been their only customer all afternoon, but Father Brennan liked them to leave the shop spic and span no matter what. Jeanette was emptying out the till. She was humming something under her breath, and the sound put Lucille in mind of the drone of a mosquito.

“Can you take this over to the bank when you leave?” Jeanette handed Lucille a dark green zippered pouch with the day’s deposit in it. “Here’s the slip.”

Suddenly the door flew open and ricocheted off the opposite wall.

“Shit!” Flo burst into the room like a hurricane, sending the window shade spinning back up. She was carrying a pointy-toed, backless shoe in one hand and the heel to it in the other. “Those damned potholes! My heel got caught in one and ripped right off.” She was hopping around on the remaining shoe.

“What’s the matter? What’s happened?” Lucille looked at her watch. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet.

“The police have arrested Tony Jr.”

“No.”

Flo collapsed against the counter. Her hair was coming down on one side, and there was something funny about her eyes.

“I was getting ready to go out with Marco when he called me from the police station. My baby—under arrest. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why? What for? Was it that parking ticket? Sheesh, I know they’re picky but—”

Flo was shaking her head. “No. They’ve arrested him for Joseph’s murder.”

“What?”

Flo nodded. She was rummaging in her purse with shaking hands. She unearthed a bent cigarette with half the tobacco missing.

“I thought you quit.”

“So did I.” She lit what was left of the cigarette and took a greedy puff.

“Excuse me. There’s no smoking in here.” Jeanette frowned at Flo.

Flo glared at Jeanette. Lucille figured out what it was with her eyes. The right one had thick lashes, as if a furry caterpillar was stuck to her eyelid, and the left one was almost naked. It gave her a strange, lopsided look.

Jeanette opened her mouth. Flo glared back. Jeanette made a squeak, like the sound of a rusty door hinge, turned on her heel, and went into the storage room. “Well!” She slammed the door in back of her.

Flo gave her the finger.

“Flo!”

“Keep your shirt on, Lucille, it’s practically the state bird.” Flo took a big drag of her Marlboro and blew smoke in the direction of the closed door.

“Why have the police arrested Tony Jr.? That just don’t make no sense.”

“I don’t know. He’s a good kid, never been in trouble a day in his life.” Flo stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of her shoe.

“We’ve got to do something.”

“What? I called the lawyer, and he told me to take it easy. Something about getting papers ready, and everything in its own good time.”

“What did you say?”

”I told him he could screw himself and the horse he rode in on.”

“Glad to hear you didn’t get too excited or nothing.”

Flo glared at her.

“It’s got to be some kind of misunderstanding. Why on earth would anyone think Tony Jr. would kill Joseph?”

Flo’s eyes sidled off to one side. “I don’t know.”

She knew something, but there was no point in trying to worm it out of her before she was ready. It would be like trying to pull a horse out of a patch of quicksand.

Lucille reached behind the counter and grabbed her handbag. “Listen, the chief is a cousin of Frank’s. Why don’t we go on over and talk to him? I’m sure we can work something out.”

They went out to the parking lot with Flo hobbling up and down with each step on her broken shoe. Mrs. Batalata was backing out of her parking space, maneuvering her car much like a captain steering an ocean liner away from the dock. She came within an inch of Flo before slowly easing on the brakes.

“Yo, watch it!” Flo limped faster to get out of the way. “Where did you learn to drive?” she yelled after the slowly retreating Impala.

• • •

The desk sergeant was turning the pages of a week-old copy of the
Star-Ledger
when Lucille and Flo pushed open the front door. “Hey, Lucille, what’s up?”

“I demand to see my son. You can’t keep me from him—I’m his mother.” Flo pounded on the desk.

The desk sergeant sighed gustily and looked at Lucille. Lucille shrugged. “She’s upset.”

“So I see.” He folded the newspaper after carefully realigning the pages and smoothing out the first section. “You want to see the chief?”

“Yeah.” Lucille leaned on the desk. “I’m sure there’s been some kind of mistake. Tony Jr. wouldn’t harm a fly.”

Hell, half the time she wasn’t even sure the kid was still
breathing
. Killing someone would require energy, and he hadn’t displayed any of that for as long as Lucille had known him.

“He the kid they brought in for the murder over at the church?”

Lucille nodded. “Yeah, but I’m sure there’s been some kind of mistake, so we came on over to talk to Dom.”

He picked up the telephone. “I’ll tell the chief you’re here.”

“Come on, Flo.” Lucille got a hand under Flo’s elbow and tried to lead her toward a chair.

“They can’t keep me from my baby, they can’t.”

“He’s seeing to it. We’re gonna talk to Dom; he’s going to take care of it.”

“Is he going to let my baby go?”

“Well, I don’t know about that, Flo. There are procedures he’s gotta follow even if he is the chief. Let’s just see what he says, okay?”

Flo settled back in her chair with her arms across her chest, the heel-less shoe dangling from her foot. Lucille kept a wary eye on her. Flo was as deceptive as a pan of milk on the stove—simmering peacefully one moment and boiling all over everything the next.

“Go on in,” the desk sergeant called to Lucille. “It’s the last door on the right.”

“Maybe you oughta stay here?” Lucille looked at Flo.

“No way. They’ve got my baby, and I demand an explanation.”

Lucille sighed. “Okay, come on, then.”

“Lucille!” Dom got up from behind his desk and greeted her with all the warmth and sincerity of a Vegas headliner. “Good to see you. How’s Frankie?”

“He’s good, Dom. He’s good.” She crossed her fingers behind her back. How the hell did she know how Frank was—she hadn’t seen him since Joseph’s funeral.

“So tell me, what can I do for you?” He settled them in the chairs in front of his desk and resumed his seat. Four children clad in Catholic school uniforms smiled from a row of eight by tens on the console table behind his desk.

“It’s about Anthony Baldini, Jr.,” Lucille said before Flo could open her mouth. “This here’s his mother.”

“Where’s my baby? Where’s Tony Jr.?”

Lucille made a shushing motion at Flo. “I’m sure there’s some kind of a mix-up. That kid wouldn’t kill anyone, Dom. Can’t you let him go home while you straighten things out?”

“Lucille.” Dom held his hands out palms up. “Believe me, we’re very careful. We had good reasons for bringing in Mr. Baldini.”

It was funny hearing someone call Tony Jr. “Mr. Baldini,” Lucille thought. “At least let his mother see him, okay?”

Dom leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers across his stomach. He’d put on quite a bit of weight, Lucille noticed, since their Memorial Day barbecue last year.

“I’m afraid he’s already been transferred to the county facility.”

“Where’s that?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Can we see him there?”

“Look, Lucille.” Dom let his chair spring upright again. “Why don’t you talk with Mr. Baldini’s lawyer first. See how he feels about it—”

“They can’t keep me from my son.”

“It’s all right, Flo. We’re going to figure it out.”

She turned back to the police chief. “Why Tony Jr.? I mean, what makes you think he had anything to do with it?”

Dom sighed. “I’m sorry, Lucille, I really am, but you know I can’t give out any information. Your friend”—he gestured toward Flo—“should talk to her son’s lawyer.”

“Listen, Dom, save that speech for other people. You’re talking to me, Lucille, the wife of your second cousin once removed. This is family, Dom.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s out of my hands.”

“Well, we aren’t going nowheres till you give us some information.” Lucille sat back with her arms folded across her chest. Just where did Dom get off thinking he could pull that official mumbo jumbo with her? Wait till she told Frankie. Let him tell Aunt Denise, Dom’s mother. She’d give him a talking to.

Dom dropped his head back against his chair and steepled his fingers. “You don’t understand.” He spoke to the ceiling. “This is official police business. I have to follow rules and policies and procedures and all kinds of other crap. You don’t know what it’s like.” He leaned forward across his desk. “I set one foot wrong, and I’m out of a job.”

“I understand that, Dom, but we’re family. I ain’t telling no one what you told me,
capisch
?”

“All I can tell you”—Dom gripped the edge of his desk with white knuckles—“is that the kid had no alibi, and money is involved.”

“That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“That’s more than I should have told you.” Dom rubbed his hands over his face.

“I guess we’re going to have to figure it out ourselves, then. Since the police aren’t going to do nothing.”

“Lucille.” Dom raised a warning eyebrow. “Don’t even think about it.”

Lucille held up her hands. “Don’t worry about nothing. I’m not going to get in the way of the police doing their
business
. Their
business
being to arrest innocent people.”

“I’m warning you, Lucille.” Dom started to get up.

Lucille was already on her feet. “Come on, Flo.” She looked toward her friend.
“Flo!”

Shock had obviously set in. Flo was staring at the wall, unblinking.

Which wasn’t a bad thing. Lucille was able to shepherd her out of the room without further incident and tuck her into the passenger seat of the Olds.

“Dom said they had a reason.” Lucille plugged Little Richard into the tape deck. “The police don’t just arrest someone for no reason, you know?” She glanced at Flo out of the corner of her eye. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

“Who, me?”

Lucille glanced around. “You see anyone else in the car?”

“Honest, Lucille, I don’t know anything about it.”

“Dom said it had something to do with money. That and Tony Jr. not having an alibi—not that that makes any difference. Half the people in New Providence probably don’t have no alibi either.”

“He didn’t do it. I know he didn’t.” Flo sniffled into a lipstick-stained tissue.

“Hey, I believe you. Tony Jr. wouldn’t harm no one. He’s a nice kid, Flo. You done a good job with him. What with having no help and all.” Lucille started the car. “But then who did kill Joseph? Assuming it wasn’t an accident or natural causes like I’ve thought all along.” Lucille shoved the gearshift into reverse and shot out of the parking space.

The five o’clock whistle blew as Lucille pulled away from the police station. The parking lot at the Prestige Diner was already filling up, and a long line of cars snaked through the bank drive-thru.

“You mind if I make a stop at the bank? Jeanette asked me to deposit the money from the shop.”

Lucille got in line behind a low-slung Porsche that made an expensive growling sound as it inched toward the teller’s station. Lucille reached into her handbag and fished around. Nothing. She must have left the deposit on the counter back at the shop. Jeanette was going to have a fit.

Too bad. The shop was locked, so nothing was going to happen to it.

She would just quit this job if she could—she was never going to get to Italy now anyway—but with Frankie gone and all, she wanted to bring in a little money of her own. He was still putting his paycheck in the bank regular as clockwork, but she ought to have some money of her own put by, just in case.

Lucille pulled around the Porsche, out of the line, and headed back toward St. Rocco’s to drop Flo off at her car.

“Like I said to Dom, we need to do some investigating ourselves. Since the police aren’t going to do nothing.” She glanced at Flo.

“You mean like on TV?”

“Sure, why not.”

“But how?”

“Well, first we need to know more about Joseph. He must have done something for someone to want him dead.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I should go over and see Connie. Find out what she knows.”

“Good idea. This is going to be fun.”

Lucille rolled her eyes. Sheesh, what was she getting herself into?

Chapter 4

That evening, Lucille made a right turn and pulled into St. Rocco’s driveway. There were already cars in the parking lot, most of them clustered around the entrance to the church hall. She noticed Jeanette’s wagon and Mrs. Batalata’s Impala parked side by side. People were arriving to help set up for St. Rocco’s annual spaghetti dinner. Father Brennan was trying to raise money to buy a small piece of property in back of the church. It was thick with weeds and littered with empty bottles and cans. Lucille couldn’t imagine why the people who owned it were asking so much money. It’s not like they were using the space or nothing. And St. Rocco’s could turn the land into extra parking. Half the time on Sundays you couldn’t find nowheres to park if you were late.

Lucille drove past the hall and parked on the other side of the church, near the back door that led to the offices and the store where she worked with Jeanette. She’d had it on her mind to check about that deposit when she dropped Flo off earlier, but she’d forgotten. Jeanette was bound to start asking questions soon if she didn’t make the deposit, seeing as how she was in charge of taking care of the books and all.

The outer door was open. Lucille went in and felt along the wall for the light switch. She’d need her own key to get into the shop. The place wasn’t nothing fancy—just a small, vacant room that had been turned into a place to sell religious statues, medals, prayer books, and rosaries.