From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) (19 page)

Sophia whistled and clapped wildly as her pride and joy ran toward and then past first base, then second, until he slid onto the home plate and disappeared in a cloud of dust. The parents and fans erupted in cheers.

Angelo leaned over toward her once the crowd was quiet. “Makes everything worth it, doesn’t it? When he’s so happy.”

His proud smile tore at Sophia’s heart. She couldn’t let him go on thinking everything was going well. Not after they had been fired from their first case. He deserved to know.

“Hey Mancini, your kid did good out there.”

Sophia waited while her brother traded proud parent comments and back slaps with a friend of his. Angelo looked happy. Relaxed even. Let him have his carefree moment, soon enough she’d give him something to worry about.

She turned her attention out to the field to watch the ball game but her mind kept going back to the burning questions that consumed her. Who killed Vincenzo? Why?

What was Frankie’s involvement in the murder? No one remembered seeing him leave the dining room the night of the murder, but that didn’t prove anything. People milled around the restaurant, eating, talking, and she doubted anyone would have noticed if Frankie went into the kitchen.

The murderer had slipped into the kitchen in plain sight of a room full of people. Which made him, or her, very brave. And very dangerous.

She watched as Luciano’s team took the field. Dom DiMaggio was one of Luciano’s idols, and she knew her nephew loved to play in the outfield. She returned his wave with a smile.

Normally, she enjoyed these weekend ball games. Sitting and talking with the other mothers was just as enjoyable as watching the boys play ball. Perhaps chatting with friends was just the break she needed. Her eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar face.

Her breath caught when she recognized one. She squinted to make sure she was right. She was.

She turned to Angelo, but he was in the middle of a conversation with several other fathers. She grabbed her handbag and made her way to the end of the row. She hopped down from the bleachers and ran after the retreating figure.

“Mr. Lato,” she called when she was in hearing distance.

He didn’t turn back. But now that she was this close she was certain it was the mailman she’d met at Quadrelli’s. She frowned. He hadn’t turned around when she’d called his name, but she could swear that he quickened his steps.

“Marco Lato,” she called out. “Please wait. I want to talk to you.”

He stopped and turned around slowly, his expression guarded.

“Miss Mancini, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I’m glad you remember. Call me Sophia, please.” She took a moment to catch her breath, and then smiled brightly. “What good luck I ran in to you. I’d like to have a word with you.”

Marco took a step backward. “I’m very short on time.” He looked around quickly. “I doubt I could help you anyway.”

“I only need a moment,” Sophia reassured him. She laid a hand on his arm. “Please, it’s important.”

He looked down at her hand and then into her eyes. Sophia was taken aback by the worry she saw there.

“It’s about Vincenzo Moretti. And his wife, Stella.”

“What about me, Sophia?”

Sophia spun around.

“Stella, I didn’t know you were here.” The look on Stella’s face was anything but friendly. She looked downright hostile.

“Enough questions, Sophia. Leave me alone.”

A fire burned in Stella’s eyes, warning Sophia that more than anger was eating at Stella. Could it be guilt? This definitely wasn’t the time to back off. It was time to push forward.

“Your husband was murdered, Stella.” Sophia took a tiny step forward to show Vincenzo’s widow she wasn’t afraid and wasn’t going to be warned away. “Don’t you want to know who took his life? Who hated him enough to plunge that knife in his back? Someone who hated him, someone who--”

“Stop. Stop it, stop it,” Stella shrieked, her hands balled into fists.

Marco took a step forward to intercede, but Sophia held her arm out to stop him.

“Did you kill your husband?” Sophia kept her voice low, but insistent. “What do you know that you don’t want to tell me?”

Stella lifted her hands to cover her face.

“I’m not going to stop until I find the murderer,” Sophia continued goading her. “I won’t rest until--”

In a flash, Stella lifted her hand and slapped Sophia across the face. The force of it momentarily stunned Sophia. She touched her stung cheek. Good. Maybe she was getting somewhere finally.

Not wanting to lose momentum when Stella was so close to snapping, she turned to Marco. “Where’s your son?”

His eyes widened. “My boy’s playing ball.” He shot a nervous glance at Stella. “Why?”

“Tell me about him,” Sophia said. “He’s how old exactly? Does he favor you or his mother more?”

A strangled cry came from Stella’s throat. “Marco, would you please leave us alone so we can talk?”

“No, no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It is,” Stella assured him.

The tender, caring look that passed between them wasn’t lost on Sophia. Stella appeared to genuinely care for Marco, and he for her, judging by the concern etched on his face. A man more different than Vincenzo Moretti, Sophia couldn’t imagine.

“Please go and wait for Leo. I’ll be fine. Sophia and I need to have a little talk.” She nodded encouragingly and waited while he reluctantly headed back to the ball field. After he was out of sight, she wheeled back around to face Sophia.

Sophia spoke first. “The only thing I’m after is the truth, Stella. I’m not trying to persecute you or anyone else. I want to find out who killed your husband. And you should want the same thing.”

“I don’t care who did it,” Stella cried. “I didn’t do it. I told the police that, and now I’m telling you. So just leave me alone.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I just want this all to be over with.”

Sophia decided to switch tactics. She’d pushed Stella hard and now it was time to soften up her approach, keep Stella on uneven ground.

“It won’t be over until the murderer is caught,” Sophia said, her voice now soothing. She reached out and placed her hand on Stella’s arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. “I’m on your side. I’m trying to find the person who did this. If you’ve got information that will help me, then I need to hear it.”

Stella shook her head. “I don’t know who did it. And I don’t care. I’m glad Vincenzo is dead.” She began to sob.

Sophia looked around. She spotted an empty wooden bench under a shade tree. “Come, sit here with me for just a few moments.” She guided Stella to the bench and sat beside her. She put her arm around Stella’s shoulders and waited.

Finally Stella’s tears subsided. She pulled a white cotton handkerchief from her dress pocket and wiped her eyes. “Okay, ask what you want and I’ll try to help.”

Stella’s voice sounded resigned, her earlier anger fizzled out.

“Why were you crying?” The question seemed simple but both women knew the answers were anything but.

“I hated my husband. But I thought I loved him the day I married him.” Stella looked beseechingly at Sophia. “Marriage is a sacrament and I tried, Sophia. I really tried to make Vincenzo happy. But it was impossible.”

Sophia didn’t need convincing. But she did need answers.

“How much money did you take from the restaurant the night of the murder?”

Stella gasped and drew back as if she’d seen a snake. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stella, it’s time to tell me the truth. I have witnesses who saw you that night.” That was a bald-faced lie. All she had was Angelo’s word that he saw Stella there. No one, not even Angelo, knew if he was remembering correctly. But Stella didn’t know that. “I think it’s better if you tell me now instead of having to bring the police in.”

Stella rocked back and forth, apparently consumed with uncertainty.

This wasn’t the time to let up. “How much did you take?” she prodded her again.

“Two thousand dollars.” Stella’s voice was barely a whisper.

Sophia sat back and digested this. Unbelievable that Vincenzo would have that much cash around. But perhaps not, she realized. If his blackmail victims were buying his silence, it stood to reason he’d have cash on hand. Plenty of it, by the sound of it.

“Did Vincenzo catch you taking the money?”

Stella nodded. “I thought he was going to kill me. But then that floozy came into the kitchen and they started arguing. They always argued. I ran out while he was paying attention to her.”

She assumed the floozy was Maria Acino but she asked just to be sure. Stella nodded.

“What was their relationship?” Sophia asked, wondering if Stella had any knowledge of her husband’s first marriage.

“I don’t know, and I didn’t care. I’m not proud to say that I hated my husband, but I did. All I wanted was some money.”

Money to run away with. She realized she didn’t blame Stella. She’d have wanted to run too.

“Tell me about your son.”

Stella drew back, a wary expression in her eyes. “Vincenzo and I never had any children.”

“That’s not answering my question, Stella. Who is the mother of Marco Lato’s little boy?” Sophia sensed Stella’s indecision, sensed she was torn between wanting to lie and wanting to tell the truth.

Stella shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“Tell me then. Help me understand. Do you and Marco have a son?”

“No.” Tears filled Stella’s eyes. “Yes. No. I can’t explain it you.”

“Does this child have something to do with Vincenzo?”

Stella nodded. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “I’ve never told anyone else about this before. How do I know I can trust you?”

“I give you my word that I won’t use anything you tell me against you, Stella. I have a feeling I’ll understand better than you think. You may not know this, but Angelo and I are in the middle of a custody battle to keep Luciano from being taken away by my late sister-in-law’s parents. He’s not my son, but I’d do anything to protect him.”

Just as she thought, her words had an effect on Stella. A look of silent understanding passed between them.

“Vincenzo and I were married for years with no children. I know I should have considered it a blessing, because I knew he would make a terrible father. But still, the desire was so strong in my heart to have a baby that I prayed to the Virgin Mother every night for a child.”

Sophia nodded her understanding. “Go on.”

“In the way of all miracles, the blessed Virgin answered my prayers.” Stella paused to make the sign of the cross. “A friend of a friend told me that Marco Lato’s unmarried teenage niece was pregnant. So I went to talk to Marco.”

A new understanding dawned in Sophia’s mind.

“Marco’s the nicest man in the world, Sophia. He’s kind, honorable--everything a man should be.” Stella smiled. “He talked to his niece about us, and she agreed to give us her baby.”

“What did Vincenzo say about this?”

Stella’s smile disappeared, replaced by a look of sheer malice. “That’s where my folly came in. I trusted him when he said we could bring the baby home and raise him as our own.”

“He changed his mind once the baby was born?”

Stella shook her head. “Oh, no. Marco brought the baby to us straight from the hospital. You can’t imagine my joy, Sophia, to finally have a child to love. And he was such a precious baby too. Just so perfect in every way. I named him Buonfiglio.”

Sophia smiled. Buonfiglio was Italian for good son. “The perfect name.”

“He likes to go by Leo, but yes, it suits him so well. He’s my joy.”

“So what went wrong?” Sophia asked. “Why does Marco have the boy with him?”

“Vincenzo watched for a month--one perfect month--while I lavished love on my bambino. He saw how happy I was, how perfect this child was, and then he told me he changed his mind.”

Sophia’s heart ached thinking of the anguish that Stella must have felt. Vincenzo was a heartless bastard. If she hadn’t already been convinced of that before, she was now.

“What did you do?”

“I died inside, that’s what I did. Sophia, I had no choice. Vincenzo threatened to take Leo to an orphanage if I didn’t take him from the house.” Stella’s tears started to flow again. “I wanted to leave Vincenzo too, but I couldn’t. I was terrified that he’d take his revenge out on Leo, so I had to stay. What else could I do?”

Emotional blackmail, Sophia thought. It looked like Vincenzo wasn’t above blackmailing his own wife. Who else was on his list?

“So you took the baby back to Marco?” Sophia prompted her.

Stella nodded. “It broke my heart into a million tiny pieces to pack up the baby’s things and carry him out of the apartment. The only thing that gave me strength was my belief that it was best to take Leo as far from Vincenzo as I could.”

“You did the right thing.”

Stella smiled through her tears. “Thank you for saying that. I love that boy with all my heart.”

“I do understand, Stella. I couldn’t love my nephew more if he were my own. But what happened next?”

“Marco decided to keep Leo and raise him alone. His niece agreed that it was the right thing to do, because she wasn’t ready to be a mother. She’s since moved to Florida and married a nice young man. Her husband doesn’t know about Leo.”

“What does Leo call you?”

“Zia Stella. He believes Marco to be his Papa and he thinks his mother died in an accident. It was Marco’s idea that I stay in Leo’s life, as a godmother of sorts.”

“What about your family?” Sophia asked. “Why didn’t you take the baby and go to them?”

“You think I didn’t want to?” The anguish in Stella’s voice was clear. “But what kind of life would it be for any of us to live under the threat of Vincenzo’s temper? As my husband and the baby’s father he had legal rights, and he would have used them to hurt us.”

“So how did you keep Vincenzo from finding out that you still saw the baby?”

“Marco and I tried to hide our arrangement, but it wasn’t easy. We went to such great lengths to not be seen together. I missed so much precious time with Leo because I was trying to keep Vincenzo in the dark. Time I’ll never get back.”