From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) (13 page)

“How’s Mooch?” Frankie asked.

Sophia gave him one point in his favor for having the decency to ask. Perhaps under the circumstances it should be two points. “I spoke with a nurse this morning. She led me to believe he’ll make it. That’s all I know right now.”

“Good,” he answered as the police officer nudged him to get moving.

“Thank you, Tim.” Sophia followed them to the door.

After taking only a few steps, Frankie turned back.

“Sophia, go see Primo Quadrelli too. He’s making arrangements for me and I need to know--”

“That’s quite enough of that,” Tim interrupted his prisoner. “Move along.”

Sophia had one last question.

“Do you want me to take a message to Maria too?”

“Maria?” Frankie shook his head. “Nah. That dame’s the least of my problems right now.”

Mooch was in his hospital bed, his head resting against the pillows, and his eyes closed when Sophia peeked in his room. She pushed the door open and coughed discretely. Still no response.

“Mr. DiMuccio?” She approached his bed tentatively. She had no idea how extensive his injuries were, or even if he’d be able to communicate at all.

She laid her hand on his arm.

His eyes flew open and he struggled to sit up. Sophia knew instantly that he recognized her because he frowned.

“How are you?”

Mooch pointed to his throat and shook his head.

“You can’t speak?”

He nodded.

Her heart sank. Getting information from him was going to be more problematic than she’d anticipated. But not impossible.

She snapped open her pocketbook and took out a small pad of paper and a pencil. She held them up.

“Are you feeling well enough to write your answers?”Mooch furrowed his brow, but nodded.

Sophia glanced over her shoulder at the door. A matter of moments was all she had before being escorted out.

She thrust the pad and pencil into Mooch’s outstretched hand.

“Who poisoned you?”

Mooch wrote his answer in a painstakingly slow manner that set Sophia’s teeth on edge. She moved closer and tried to peek over the pad to see what he was writing, but Mooch drew the paper closer to his chest.

“Sorry,” Sophia offered. “But we don’t have much time. I snuck in here while the officer guarding your door stepped away.”

A corner of Mooch’s mouth turned up. His expression certainly couldn’t have passed for a smile, but it wasn’t hostile either. That had to be a good sign.

She took the pad back and read his large, scrawled writing. ‘Why do you care?’ Really? What kind of answer was that?

“I care because I found you and you scared five years off of my life, that’s why.” Instinct told her that a direct approach with Mooch was the only way to go. “Now, who do you think tried to kill you?”

He wrote a little more quickly this time.

‘Don’t know who did it.’

“I think the person who poisoned you also killed Vincenzo.”

‘So?’ he wrote.

Sophia’s eyebrows shot up. So? What did he mean by ‘so?’ Had whatever substance he’d ingested addled his brain? “So we have to stop them, Mr. DiMuccio.”

‘My name is Mooch.’

Sophia looked up from the pad they’d been passing back and forth. “Sorry.” She pointed to the chair by the bed. “May I?”

Mooch nodded and she dragged it over to his bedside and sat. She handed him back the pad. “Mr.--I mean, Mooch. I think the police officer out there has gone in search of chains to drag me away in--”

A strangled sound escaped from Mooch’s throat. Good heavens. Maybe the man could laugh, but by the sound of it, the attempt must have hurt. She poured him a cup of water and handed it to him.

“We don’t have much time and I need your help before someone else gets hurt. Or killed. I’ll ask questions and you write your answers.”

He nodded.

“What did you take out of Vincenzo’s restaurant the night he was murdered?”

His eyes widened.

“Yes, I know. Someone saw you leaving the restaurant with a book.”

He shrugged, wrote a reply and held up the pad.

‘Not your business.’

“Yes, it is. Mr. Vidoni hired my brother and I to find the person who killed Vincenzo.”

Mooch quickly scribbled something. He held up the pad. ‘I won’t talk until Mr. Vidoni gives me the okay.’

“Well he can’t do that because he’s been arrested and he’s already used his one phone call.”

She was unprepared for the effect the news would have on him. He looked dumbstruck. Worse even.--he looked like he wanted to cry.

He tossed back his blanket and tried to sit up.

“Oh, no.” Sophia was on her feet in a flash. She snapped her fingers and pointed to his pillows. “You get right back in bed, Mooch DiMuccio. There’s no way you can see Frankie now, so don’t even think about trying.”

He wavered for a moment but finally gave in. He pulled the blanket back up over his lap but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. It was clear he was upset.

Either way, she felt badly for him. The news had obviously stunned him.

“Listen, Mooch. Help me help Frankie. Tell me what you know.”

‘No.’

She wasn’t going to let up. She’d hammer him with questions if need be.

“What did you take from Vincenzo’s kitchen? Was it something that Frankie asked you to take? Where was Vincenzo when you were there? Did you see anyone else with him?”

Mooch held up his hand and then one finger. One at a time, he seemed to be telling her.

“Sorry.” She glanced back at the door. She wasn’t complaining, but she was surprised she hadn’t been thrown out yet. “Please tell me.”

She watched indecision flash across Mooch’s face. She waited while he wrote a short message.

‘What happened to my kitty?’

Sophia shook her head. “I’m not telling you until you answer my questions.” Withholding information from him was a bit of a gamble, but she was willing to risk it. “What was in that book you took from Vincenzo’s?”

The hospital room door opened and Sophia cringed. She hadn’t gotten anything decent out of Mooch yet. She slowly turned around.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Mancini.”

Sophia grinned when she recognized the friendly voice. “Hello, Sergeant O’Brian. I have to say that I’m happy it’s you coming through that door and not anyone else.” Especially your captain, she left unsaid. “Are you here to evict me?”

Officer O’Brian smiled broadly. “It’s your lucky day. I came in to relieve Officer Donahue.” He looked from her to Mooch. “Miss Mancini isn’t disturbing you, is she Mr. DiMuccio?”

Mooch shook his head.

“Right then. Ten minutes more, Miss Mancini, and then I’ll ask you to leave.”

Sophia smiled her gratitude. “You’re very kind. I won’t out wear my welcome.”

“See that you don’t. And I’ll not be offended if you show your appreciation with a bag of your aunt’s biscotti.” He grinned.

“Consider it done, Sergeant.”

After the door closed behind him, she turned back to Mooch.

“Tell me about the book you took.”

Mooch doodled with the pencil for a long moment before he wrote something.

Sophia leaned forward to read the slanting letters. ‘It was something Frankie wanted me to find.’

“What was the relationship between Frankie and Vincenzo?”

Mooch merely shrugged.

Sophia struggled to keep her impatience at bay. She leaned forward in her chair. “Help me with this, Mooch. Someone killed Vincenzo, someone tried to kill you, and I want to find out who it was.”

His only answer was to stare out the window.

She tried again. “Do you think Frankie killed Vincenzo?”

His denial was swift and ferocious. ‘No, no, no’ he wrote.

“Mooch, I don’t want to play twenty questions with you anymore. Tell me something I don’t know. Help me out.”

He hesitated for a long moment, but finally scribbled something. He held up the pad. ‘Blackmail.’

“Mr. Vidoni tried to blackmail Vincenzo?”

Mooch shook his head vigorously. He gestured to indicate she had it backwards.

“Vincenzo was blackmailing Frankie?”

‘Tried,’ Mooch wrote.

Sophia looked at the word on the pad and wondered what exactly Mooch meant by ‘tried.’ Did Frankie want Vincenzo dead because he had attempted to blackmail him? That couldn’t be. If Frankie was responsible for Vincenzo’s death, then why would he hire them to find the killer? It didn’t make sense. She needed more information, and she had precious little time left.

“What information did Vincenzo have on Frankie?”

Mooch shrugged. Obviously he didn’t know. Or wouldn’t say.

“How much did Vincenzo want for his silence?”

‘Twenty five g’s’, he wrote.

“Twenty five thousand dollars?” Sophia was stunned. That was a fortune. No wonder Frankie had balked at paying.

“Tell me about the book. What was it? Frankie had to have told you something.”

Mooch shook his head solemnly. Even if he didn’t know what was in the book, he should know where it was now.

She asked him.

He hesitated before writing his answer. ‘Hidden in my apartment.’

“Where exactly?”

He eyed her thoughtfully. Finally he shook his head.

He wasn’t going to tell her. Fine. She’d go back and look more carefully. He was in no position to stop her.

“Did you see Vincenzo when you were at the ristorante?”

Mooch nodded and began to write. He held up the pad for her to see.

‘He didn’t see me. He was arguing with someone.’

This didn’t surprise her. Arguing was how Vincenzo appeared to have spent his waking hours.

“Who was he arguing with?” Sophia prompted him.

For the first time Mooch looked downright uncomfortable.“It’s important you help me, Mooch. Someone tried to kill you. Don’t you want to know who it was?”

He nodded and then wrote. ‘Eugene.’

Eugene Gallo? Interesting.

Sophia glanced at her watch. She didn’t have much time left.

“What were they arguing about?” she persisted.

‘Don’t know. I got out of there.’

Sophia nodded. So, assuming Mooch was telling the truth, Vincenzo had argued with Eugene just before his death. And with Maria Acino the day before at the restaurant. But what about? That she’d dearly love to know.

“One more question. What did you eat that made you sick?”

Mooch scribbled furiously. ‘Spaghetti Bolognese. A neighbor’s boy brought it up.’

“So you don’t know who sent it up with him?”

He shook his head.

Sophia nodded. “I understand. You just thought a neighbor was sharing. Who was the little boy? I want to ask him a few questions.”

‘Jimmy Iacobelli on the ground floor. Be nice to him.’

“I will. I promise.” She was pleased at least that a picture of what had happened, albeit murky, was beginning to emerge. Someone had most likely convinced little Jimmy to take a plate of food up to Mooch’s apartment. Then they had waited until they thought Mooch was dead to sneak into his apartment and look for the book.

What in heaven’s name was in it? It had to do with the blackmail. Frankie obviously wanted it badly enough to send Mooch for it. But who else knew about it and wanted it badly enough to poison Mooch to get their hands on it? Someone who was also being blackmailed was her guess. But who?

She glanced at her watch again. Sergeant O’Brian had been more than generous. She should leave before his leniency with her got him in hot water.

“Thank you, Mooch. I appreciate your help. Make sure you follow the doctor’s orders so you can get out of here soon. Is there anyone you would like me to call, friends or family?”

He dropped his eyes.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked. No friends and no family? The idea made her heart ache.

He shook his head. She turned toward the door but the sound of snapping fingers caused her to turn around again. Mooch was holding up a message. She quickly read his question.

“Your kitten is safe with my cousin,” she assured him. “We’ll take good care of it for you until you can go home.” Sophia acknowledged his toothy smile of gratitude with a smile of her own. “What is the kitten’s name?”

‘Precious.’ And then he wrote a little more and held the pad up. ‘You gotta help Frankie. He didn’t do nothing wrong.”

“I’ll try, Mooch,” she said, touched by the genuine concern evident in his expression. “I promise.”

***

Quadrelli & Son’s Funeral Home was next on her order of business, partially because it was not too far from the police station, and also because she was dreading paying a visit to Mrs. Vidoni.

Sophia was relieved to see that Quadrelli’s looked semi-deserted. Thankfully, she hadn’t arrived in the middle of a wake or rosary. She stepped into the dimly lit front entryway and waited for someone to come out and greet her. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Sophia, welcome,” Primo Quadrelli called to her as he came out of his office. He spread his arms wide and embraced her warmly. “It does my heart good to see you.”

His lined face and the sadness in his eyes told her how he was without her having to ask. His only son, Carmello, had been killed in the war when a fleet of Japanese kamikaze planes hit and sunk the destroyer he’d served on. Carmello and Angelo had been good friends while growing up. She still couldn’t believe Carmello wasn’t going to come home. His father’s grief had aged him greatly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Quadrelli.”

“Nonsense. I’m always delighted to see you.” He ushered her into his office, and she gratefully sank into a wingchair in front of his desk. “Share some tea with me?”

“No, thank you. I can’t stay long--”

“You must. I won’t hear of you leaving without something to drink. Now, what will it be? Coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.”

Sophia smiled as she watched him pour two steaming cups of tea. She didn’t know why she ever bothered to refuse such an offer when visiting anyone in Little Italy. No matter what she said, or how much she protested, she knew she wouldn’t leave without eating or drinking something. She took the steaming cup he offered and thanked him.

Signor Quadrelli settled himself on the opposite side of the desk. “To what do I owe this visit?” he asked, hastening to add, “Not that you need a reason to stop by. You’re always welcome, but tell me this isn’t a professional visit. Everyone in your family is well?”