From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) (14 page)

“They are. Thank you for asking. And thank you for not minding an unannounced visitor.”

“I am always happy to have the company. It is too quiet here since Carmello went away.” His gaze settled on a framed photo of his son in uniform.

“May I?” Sophia asked, pointing to the photo.

“Of course.” He handed it to her.

Sophia looked down into the face of a childhood friend, now gone forever. Carmello’s smile was bright and there was laughter in his eyes. Her own eyes filled with tears. She handed the photo back.

“That’s how I’ll remember him,” she told his father. “With a smile that no one could resist. He was a good friend. A good man.”

“He was a good son,” Mr. Quadrelli said as he settled the frame back in its place of honor on his desk. “Now, tell me what brings you here, Sophia.”

“I’ve come at Frankie Vidoni’s request.”

Primo smiled. “That makes you the second person today to do so.”

That wasn’t what she was expecting to hear. Who else had Frankie sent?

“Mr. Vidoni asked me to see how the arrangements were coming along.”

“Well, cara, I can tell you the same thing I told his cousin. Everything he has requested has been taken care of, down to the last letter.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “He’s welcome to come back here and we can speak in person again.”

So, obviously he hadn’t heard that Frankie had been arrested. It was only a matter of time before word reached him, so she might as well be the one to fill him in. She did so.

“I’m on my way to speak with Mrs. Vidoni now, but Frankie was most insistent that I see you as well.” Sophia couldn’t help but notice that Primo seemed more perplexed than aghast at the news of Frankie’s arrest. She asked him why.

He cocked his head sideways and thought for a long moment before answering her. “I’ve known Frankie Vidoni since we were boys. He is many things, and perhaps not all of them good, but I cannot believe he’d murder a man in a fit of rage in the middle of a party.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not like Frankie at all.”

“Perhaps he snapped,” Sophia offered. “Vincenzo had that effect on people.”

“That he did. Still, something isn’t right about this. I think--” The front door opened and a voice called out for Primo. “In my office, Marco.” Primo went around his desk and ushered his guest in.

A quick glance at the visitor’s uniform told Sophia that Marco was a letter carrier. But not the regular one who delivered mail to Little Italy.

Primo introduced them. Sophia smiled, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lato.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Mancini. I apologize for interrupting,” Marco said. “I’ve actually come to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Where are you going?” Primo sounded surprised.

“I’m engaged to be married, and my new bride and I will be moving to California next week.”

Primo shook the letter carrier’s hand, enthusiastic in his congratulations. “Wonderful, wonderful. Now that lad of yours will have a proper mother.”

Marco beamed. “Yes, my boy is thrilled. Well then, I won’t keep you, my friend. I’ll send a postcard when we see palm trees and the ocean.” Wherever he was going, and whoever he was going with, Marco sounded delighted about it.

When Primo returned from seeing Marco out, he apologized for the interruption. “Finally, my friend has a chance at happiness. He’s going to marry a nice young widow and have a whole new life. I’m happy for him.” He waved his hand around his office. “So much sadness, so many tears in this business. It’s nice to hear happy news too. Now, tell me what else I can help you with.”

“May I ask about the person who came earlier to ask questions on Frankie’s behalf?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t recognize her, Sophia. Apparently she’s an elderly cousin visiting from out of state, come to stay with Lily until the end.”

“And she wanted to know how the funeral arrangements were coming along?”

Primo hesitated. “Yes, she was full of questions. Odd woman, actually. She seemed more curious about Frankie’s choices than anything.” He shrugged. “Grief does strange things to a person, though. We see people handle their sadness in many different ways.”

“Mr. Quadrelli, you said you’ve known Frankie Vidoni for years. Can I ask you something about him?”

“Absolutely. Ask me anything.”

“How is his marriage, I mean, his relationship with his wife? Are they a loving couple?”

Primo smiled. “Yes, most definitely, they are. Which only makes watching him prepare for her passing all the more poignant. There’s no question in my mind that Frankie Vidoni is utterly devoted to his wife and would do anything for her.”

There was that phrase again--the same Frankie had used. He’d do anything for his wife. Did the anything he was willing to do have to do with Vincenzo’s blackmail attempt? She felt like she was in a maze, and every time she rounded a corner, there was another wall.

She stood. “You’ve been kind to answer my questions. Thank you. I’ll tell Mr. Vidoni that he has nothing to worry about. Well, I mean, of course he’s worried but--”

“I know what you mean, dear. No, as far as the arrangements for his wife, everything is as he asked.” He walked with her to the entryway. “Please visit whenever you wish. I’m always happy to see you. Give my best to Angelo and bring little Luciano to see me sometime.”

He kissed her cheek and opened the front door for her. “And, Sophia, be careful, eh cara? Death is a natural part of life and not to be feared. But murder is deadly serious business.”

Two bus transfers and two dimes later, Sophia was back in Mooch’s neighborhood. She strolled down the tree-lined street, taking in everything around her in a way she hadn’t done before.

The last time she’d visited Mooch’s apartment, she’d gone charging up the stairs completely unaware of her surroundings. For all she knew, she might have walked right past the person who poisoned Mooch. On the night Vincenzo was killed, she’d been in the restaurant with a murderer and she’d been totally ignorant of the fact. No, she was never going to learn anything if she didn’t slow down and observe what was going on around her. She needed to develop a sixth sense. And fast.

She stopped in front of Mooch’s apartment building and leaned nonchalantly against a brick pillar. No one seemed to take any notice of her. An old woman on the other side of the street swept the sidewalk, singing quietly to herself. Three little boys on bicycles raced past, incurring good-natured threats from a group of older boys playing ball in the street.

Sophia cocked her head to the side and observed the scene in front of her for a moment longer. Everything seemed perfectly normal. There was nothing untoward here that she could sense.

She climbed the stairs to Mooch’s apartment and tried the door. Locked, just as she’d expected. With a quick glance around to make sure she was alone, she reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a skeleton key she’d wheedled from her brother. It slipped easily into the lock and the door swung open.

“Hello, is anyone here?” she called, knowing only the silence would answer. She glanced down at the floor where yesterday she’d found Mooch. She shivered.

A quick glance, Sophia, she told herself. Take a quick look around and get out. She shouldn’t even be here. But Mooch wanted her to help Frankie, didn’t he? Perhaps there was something here she could find to help take the heat off of his boss.

The apartment couldn’t have been more orderly if the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary lived here. The furnishings were modest, clean, and ordinary in every sense of the word.

She had an unsettling feeling that one of Vincenzo’s blackmail victims had beaten her here, and already found the book she so badly wanted to see. But who? That was the twenty-five thousand dollar question.

But in the unlikely event it was still here she needed to keep searching. The only place left to look was Mooch’s room. She hesitated for only a moment.

Once inside the cramped bedroom, she opened the wardrobe. A row of white shirts hung neatly on the left. Below them was a drawer filled with socks and neckties. Three pairs of shoes were lined up on the bottom shelf. To the right of the shirts, two pairs of navy slacks and two navy jackets hung together. A pair of gray pants hung alone on the other side.

Sophia frowned. Where was the gray jacket? She closed her eyes and tried to remember what color Frankie had worn the night of the murder. Gray. He’d worn a gray suit. And the police had found a gray, bloodstained jacket--apparently the reason they were holding Frankie at the police station.

But what if the jacket the police had found didn’t belong to Frankie? What if it belonged to Mooch?

No, no, no. She didn’t want to even think it. Despite his perpetual frown and uncommunicative manner, she liked Mooch. He just couldn’t have killed Vincenzo Moretti.

But Mooch was a big man, a little voice inside her head reminded her. Much bigger than Frankie. Mooch was more than a physical match for Vincenzo. It was easy to believe that he had the brute strength to drive a knife into the chef’s back.

She closed the wardrobe door, turned around, and let out a startled cry.

“Found something, have you, Miss Mancini?”

“Goodness, you startled me.” How had she not heard the police captain enter the apartment? So much for her budding sixth sense. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He reached around her and opened the wardrobe door. “Anything interesting in here?”

Sophia went to sit on the window sill. There wasn’t a chair in the room, and she felt funny about sitting on Mooch’s bed. Her legs, however, begged for support.

She watched while Tiernan glanced ever so briefly through the wardrobe before closing it.

“That’s an awfully cursory search, Captain.”

“I’m not here to conduct a search. We’ve already done that. I’m here for another reason altogether.”

“Which is?” She couldn’t help herself. Truly, her curiosity knew no bounds.

“I was downstairs speaking to the first-floor tenants when one of the residents came to tell me she saw a young lady let herself into Mr. DiMuccio’s apartment. Imagine my surprise to discover you were the intruder.”

His sarcasm was almost as bad as her curiosity.

“Let’s go.” He stood back and gestured to the door. “My patrol car is around the corner. I’ll take you home.”

“Kind of you, Captain, but I’m not going straight home. I’m going to visit Mrs. Vidoni.”

“Ah, interesting. At your client’s request I presume?”

She nodded.

“I’ll give you a lift there then.”

“It’s not necessary, thank you, Captain.”

“I think it is.” He held open the front door and turned the lock after she passed through. “It will give you a chance to tell me what you’ve learned about the case thus far.”

“Funny, I was just going to say the same thing.”

***

When the police car swung around the front drive of the Vidoni home, Sophia couldn’t help but wonder at the lack of cars in the drive, or other signs of life. Something was wrong.

If Lily Vidoni was ill enough that her husband had to prearrange funeral plans, then where was their family? Friends? Members of St. Catherine’s Ladies Guild even? More people should be here.

Italian families did not leave relatives to die alone. It just wasn’t done.

Mrs. Vidoni’s daytime nurse allowed them in after Sophia briefly explained the reason for her visit.

“To say Mrs. Vidoni is fragile is a great understatement,” she warned Sophia. “You may have just a moment, and you may not say one word to disturb her.”

“She is aware that her husband is in jail though, isn’t she?”

The nurse nodded. “She is. The cancer has ravaged the poor woman’s body, but not her mind or spirit.” She glanced at the police captain and pointed to a chair at the end of the hallway. “Wait there, sir. I don’t want you disturbing Mrs. Vidoni in that uniform.”

Without waiting for his response, she led Sophia up a flight of stairs and down a corridor. All the while, she issued directions as to what Sophia was to say and do, and not say or do while in her patient’s presence. The woman must have been a nun before becoming a nurse.

“Where is Mrs. Vidoni’s family?” Sophia asked when they stopped in front of a door.

“Family?”

“Yes, you know, people who care about Mrs. Vidoni? Surely her family hasn’t just left her alone?”

The nurse shook her head. “There’s no family that I’m aware of.”

No family? How did those two words belong alone together in a sentence?

“What about the cousin who is visiting?”

“You see, those are exactly the kinds of questions you aren’t allowed to ask Mrs. Vidoni.” The nurse opened the door and led Sophia into the patient’s room.

To her surprise, the room didn’t have the oppressive sadness of a deathbed scene. The room was feminine, decorated in a lilac color scheme, and filled with flowers. A large, gleaming chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, casting just the perfect amount of light. A large canopy bed with a satin quilt filled the center of the room. But the bed was empty.

“I’m here.”

Sophia’s eyes followed the voice to a corner of the room. A chaise lounge was set up by the window. A lady--for one glance at the woman’s welcoming expression told Sophia that Lily Vidoni was a true lady--sat back against satin pillows, a cream color velvet throw over her legs.

“My, but the world has changed if police officers are such young, pretty girls now.” She smiled. “Come in, won’t you.”

“I’m not with the police, Mrs. Vidoni.”

Lily Vidoni smiled again, or perhaps she always smiled. That wouldn’t surprise Sophia one bit.

“I know you’re not. Just a little joke because I saw the car pull up.” She took a deep breath, as if to gather strength before speaking again. She nodded toward the flower in Sophia’s hand. “I see that my husband sent you to see me.”

“He did.” Sophia held out the red carnation and watched as the other woman gazed tenderly at it. From her expression, one could have believed it was a rare hot house bloom instead of an ordinary flower shop carnation. “Please sit.” After Sophia settled into a chair the nurse drew up for her, Lily spoke again. “Tell me your name, my dear.”