From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) (8 page)

“Thank you, Sophia.” The black lace veil Stella wore hid her face and made it impossible to tell how she was holding up. Was the veil hiding grief, relief, or guilt?

Sophia turned to leave but Stella grabbed her hand. “Wait,” Stella pleaded in a low voice. “I need a favor.”

“Of course. What can I do?” If Stella didn’t release the death grip on her hand soon, Sophia was going to have bruises.

Stella leaned close enough to whisper. “Come with me to the ristorante later. I need to go into Vincenzo’s apartment, but I’m afraid to go alone. Please.”

Her pleading tone surprised Sophia. It made more sense that Stella would ask one of her family members to go with her, but if it was that important, she’d do it.

“Yes, I’ll go with you. Do you know when--”

“Thank you, thank you. Can you meet me outside of Vincenzo’s at four o’clock? That should give us plenty of time before the rosary tonight.”

Plenty of time for what? She opened her mouth to ask, but Stella had already turned to speak with someone else.

“Sophia, psst, over here.”

She whirled around. Behind the statue of the Virgin Mother she caught sight of a hand--a hand with flashy red fingernails and no less than three cocktail rings--a sharp contrast to the Virgin’s simple stone robes.

“Maria?” Sophia peeked around the statue. “What are you doing hiding back here?”

Maria Acino reached out and grabbed ahold of Sophia’s elbow. “Shhh, lower your voice. Come with me.”

Sophia allowed herself to be dragged around the side of the church. When they reached the gate to St. Catherine’s schoolyard Sophia drew to a halt. “Maria, stop. What is the matter with you?”

Maria looked around nervously. “Do you think we’re alone?”

Sophia couldn’t see anyone. She nodded. “It’s just you, me, the angels and saints. Now why are you acting like this?”

“I wanted to talk to you for a moment. About what happened at Vincenzo’s.”

Sophia’s heart raced with excitement. She leaned closer. “What did you see?”

“See?” Maria asked, a bewildered look on her face. “I didn’t see anything.”

“What did you hear then?”

“Nothing.”

Sophia shook her head. Maria was wasting her time, and she needed to get to Frankie’s for her appointment. Still, something about Maria’s demeanor was off. She’d only known Maria a couple of days, and not well at that, but this didn’t seem like the cocky, assured woman she thought Maria to be.

“What are you afraid of?” Sophia surprised herself with the question, but it appeared to hit home.

“Afraid? Oh, God, it shows?” Maria dug in her pocketbook for a cigarette and lighter. Her hands shook as she lit one and took a long drag. “I just wanted to talk to you about that day we met at Vincenzo’s. Remember, it was just you and me and Vincenzo?”

“And Eugene.”

Maria waved her hand dismissively. “Eugene doesn’t count.”

In the interest of time, Sophia decided not to argue the point. “What about that day?”

“We need to get our stories straight.” She eyed Sophia. “You know, for when the police question us again.”

“I don’t have anything to tell them. I didn’t hear what you and Vincenzo were talking about. I was inside with Eugene, remember?”

Maria nodded. “But you saw us talking and Vincenzo looked upset.”

“Vincenzo always looked upset about something.” She was about to add that this had been part of his charm, but she had enough respect for the dead to leave it unsaid. “Don’t worry, Maria. I have nothing to tell the police about that day, so you can calm down.”

Maria chewed her lip. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Why not ask Frankie for advice?”

Maria’s eyes widened. “No, I don’t want to cause any trouble for Frankie. My job is to make his life easier.”

Her job? Is that how a mistress described a love affair? She knew she shouldn’t ask.

“Your job?” She couldn’t help herself.

Maria took another long drag on her cigarette. “Yeah, you know, as Frankie’s fiancée.”

Sophia eyed the other woman warily. “You do know that Frankie’s wife is still alive, don’t you?”

Maria shrugged. “No one lives forever.”

There was nowhere productive this conversation could go.

“Just tell the police whatever it was that you were talking about. There’s no need to hide anything. Is there?”

In answer, Maria threw her cigarette down and ground it out. She exhaled a long stream of smoke, tugged at her blouse, straightened her skirt, and flashed Sophia a rather pasted-on smile.

“There’s always a little something to hide when talking to the police, don’t you think?”

***

Sophia made it to the Vidoni front gate with half a minute to spare. Frankie’s home was high atop a hill that overlooked Little Italy without actually being a part of it. Fortunately for her, the local bus line provided service halfway up the hill. The other half she’d walked.

White iron gates with an enormous letter V on each side stood closed before her. She looked around for a gatehouse, but didn’t see one. Frustration welled within her, but she quickly realized the futility of it. As private detectives, she and Angelo were doubtless going to run into more than a few locked doors. She might as well get used to it. But there was no way she was turning back without a contract in hand, even if it meant she had to go over the wall to get it.

She smiled. There was an idea.

She walked along the sidewalk, assessing the wall. Red brick pillars anchored the gate but, fortunately for her, they tapered off to a modest four feet at the lowest point. Four feet she could handle. She dropped her pocketbook and shoes over the wall. With a quick glance around to make sure the street was deserted, Sophia took a leap and, bracing her arms, swung one leg so that she was straddling the wall. She swung the other leg over and jumped down, her earlier frustration having given way to a sense of satisfaction. Reading all those Nancy Drew mysteries might actually pay off.

And, after all, no one had seen her.

***

“Your creative entrance was most impressive, Miss Mancini.”

Sophia tried not to look surprised. “Thank you, Mr. Vidoni.”

“I must confess, it was a bit of a test, to see how you handled a road block.” Frankie sat back in his burgundy leather chair and rested his elbows on its arms. His fingers created a steeple and his gaze was direct. “I was expecting your brother to accompany you.”

“Angelo was needed elsewhere. Please rest assured that anything you wish to discuss with Angelo, you can discuss with me.”

“So you are not solely functioning as Mr. Mancini’s secretary then?”

“No. My brother and I have always worked as a team.”

“I see. And you two believe that you have what it takes to handle private matters for a client with speed and discretion?”

“Of course.” Sophia wasn’t enjoying the back and forth, cat and mouse nature of the conversation. She glanced around the luxuriously appointed room. It looked like a banker’s office--a well-appointed banker’s office, at that. As she had been shown in, Sophia had been surprised by how elegantly the Vidoni home appeared to be decorated. She had expected something more garish--some place that Maria Acino would fit right in.

She turned her attention back to Frankie. ”Let’s talk business. What can we do for you?”

Frankie smiled, a not altogether pleasant expression. He leaned forward.

“Find Vincenzo’s killer.”

“Why?”

The question appeared to throw him. “What?”

“Why do you care who killed Vincenzo?”

His eyebrows rose. Polite and ladylike was fine for off-duty hours, but frank and direct was the new professional demeanor she’d decided to adopt on the long walk up to the house.

“I’d like to know what your interest in the matter is.”

He drummed his fingers against the desk for several moments. Finally he spoke. “The community we live in is my--how to phrase this--area of interest.”

Translation: Little Italy was his territory.

“Anything that happens there is of great interest to me.”

Translation: I don’t want to look foolish having a murder happen under my nose unless I ordered it.

“I want to hire you and your brother to find the killer before the police do.”

Sophia hesitated. Last night, after she and Angelo had returned home, they’d stayed up late talking--about the party, about the murder, and about their appointment with Frankie and the possibility of working for him. With the looming court date, and the need to be gainfully employed, they both agreed taking the case, if asked, was the only reasonable choice.

She snapped open her pocketbook and removed an envelope. She slid it across the desk.

“I’ve taken the liberty of typing up a contract and a fee agreement. Angelo and I have already signed both copies. If you agree to our terms, please sign them both and the second copy is yours.”

Frankie opened the envelope and drew out the typed pages. His eyes skimmed over the contract. “I can see you are prepared and quite thorough.”

“Necessary qualities in a detective, don’t you think?”

“I do.” He took a ballpoint pen from his suit jacket pocket and signed both copies. He slipped his copy into his top desk drawer. From the right drawer he took an envelope and handed it to her along with her copy of the contract. “More than half of your fee up front, plus money for any expenses you incur. I want you to know that I expect complete discretion and honesty from you and your brother.”

“We expect nothing less in return.”

“Siamo d’accordo allora.” He stood and offered his hand to seal the deal. She shook it, praying she hadn’t made the wrong decision by taking on Frankie as their first client.

“Mooch here will give you a lift home,” Frankie said.

As Sophia followed Mooch down the hallway, she wondered about the Vidoni family secrets that he invariably was privy to. When he pulled open the front door for her, she lobbied her first question at him.

“Did you go with Mr. Vidoni to the party at Vincenzo’s yesterday afternoon?”

She wasn’t surprised to see him scowl.

“You want a ride home or not?”

“No, thank you. I’ll walk.” She stepped over the threshold and turned back to look up at him. “Did you know Vincenzo Moretti?”

In answer, he slammed the door shut and turned the dead bolt.

Mooch, she realized, was someone she needed to have another conversation with at a later date. Was he always that rude? Or was the silent treatment his way of hiding something?

“You wanted a murder and now we’ve got one. What’s next?”

Sophia eyed her brother. He sat on the sofa opposite her. Her nephew was curled up next to her. “Hey, don’t forget, I’m new to this. I’m not sure what to do, but we’ll think of something.” She reached down and smoothed Luciano’s hair from his forehead. His mercifully short fever had broken, and she knew by tomorrow morning he’d be back to running around.

“You got Frankie to agree to pay double the fee we talked about.” Angelo smiled. “That must have taken some smooth talking.”

“Not really. Last night, I retyped a higher fee agreement after you went to bed. I took the original one with me in case he balked at the amount we asked for, but he didn’t blink.”

“Which takes us right back to my first question. We’ve got a client, a contract, and enough cash to satisfy the judge. Where are we going to start looking for answers?”

“I’m meeting Stella at Vincenzo’s in a little while. I agreed partially because I felt sorry for her, but also so I could find out more about Vincenzo and who she thinks might have killed him.”

“Assuming it wasn’t her, it will be interesting to hear what she has to say.”

Sophia wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You don’t really think it could be Stella, do you? Good heavens, Angelo, he was her husband.”

He shrugged. “More murders are committed by people the victim knew well than by strangers. The closer their relationship to the victim, the more closely we have to examine their motives.”

“I definitely want to ask her what she was doing at the party.”

Angelo cocked his head and made a face. It was a look she knew all too well. She issued a quick and silent prayer for patience and then spoke. “Remember? You told me you saw her at the party?” Sophia struggled to keep her voice level. The doctors had told her that pushing Angelo to remember would only frustrate him. “Do you think it was someone else you mistook for Stella?”

He thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember exactly. Maybe I saw her. Maybe I didn’t.”

“It’s not a problem.” Except that it was. Had he or hadn’t he seen Stella Moretti at the murder scene right before her husband was killed? She hated the guilty look on her brother’s face. It wasn’t his fault.

“You seemed sure yesterday so that’s good enough for now, Ang. Just tell me if you remember something else later.”

He nodded. “It’ll come back. Did you see anyone else at the party that you didn’t expect to see there? Any uninvited guests?”

“No, I don’t think so, but you saw what it was like. There were people in, people out. Everyone was everywhere.” Mancini family gatherings usually came complete with a revolving door. “So you also think the murderer was someone at our party?”

Angelo nodded. “I think it’s more than likely. Face it, Sophia, the room was full of people coming and going. The murderer could have been someone we invited, or someone who invited themselves and fit in so well we didn’t notice them. What better way to get to Vincenzo then in his own crowded restaurant? With all those people milling about, it would have been easier to catch him off-guard.”

“That’s what Captain McIntyre said.”

“That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. After I spent some time talking to the guys I used to work with, I remembered something about McIntyre you should know.”

Sophia’s curiosity was aroused, but she stayed quiet.

“You remember his uncle, the first Captain McIntyre?”

She nodded. “You introduced Charlotte and I to him at a picnic once, I think.”

“That was him. He wanted to retire in late ’41, but after Pearl Harbor, he decided to stick around so the force wouldn’t be short when all the younger cops joined up. Right after Hiroshima he decided it was time he retired, and when his nephew was stateside, he recommended him as his successor.”