J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 05 - Season for Murder (4 page)

“Did you know a woman died at the senior center your mother goes to?” Marcus asked with a serious look on his face.

“Yes, want to join us for pasta?” I asked as he took in the meal on the counter and then shifted a cool gaze to Rafael.

“Sure, I can’t stay long, but I’m starving. Did your father make this?” Marcus asked. Rafe wasn’t in favor with Marcus most of the time. Their relationship was one of low tolerance, very low. I hadn’t been aware of what Rafe did for a living when I’d rented to him and that news drove Marcus off the deep end.

“What makes you think I didn’t make it?” I asked.

He snorted and grinned. “Lavinia, you are a great cook, but you usually bring home food from your parents’ house. So why would I think you made the sauce when a container of it sits on the counter?”

He was astute, as always. I grinned at the two men.

“My mother and I were there when Iva fell unconscious.” At Marcus’s now ominous glare, I added, “Don’t start barking at me, either. We had nothing to do with the woman’s death. My mother is beside herself and is now a suspect in the investigation.”

“You never said the police were involved, Vin,” Rafe said.

“I was just getting around to it,” I lied. They’d figure it out sooner or later, so why not fess up about it now? I went on to explain the rest of the scene as we ate.

“Your mother must be a wreck,” Rafe added while Marcus nodded in agreement.

My mother held Aaron and Marcus on a pedestal, and they, in their different ways, did the same to her. She made them feel at home whenever they showed up, no matter what was happening at the time. They’d been welcomed into the bosom of our family, though my mother had high hopes of one of them becoming her son-in-law so she’d have grandkids. She now felt the same way about Rafe.

I smiled at their concern and served more pasta and the last of the bread. The meatballs had simmered in the sauce for hours. The taste of garlic and rich spices pervaded them. I savored the flavors and sucked down the meal like a starving woman.

After the food was gone, the three of us relaxed, replete. There wasn’t a scrap left. I smiled as I thought how pleased my father would have been if he’d seen how we’d enjoyed his culinary delights.

“Does this mean you’ll get involved?” Rafe asked.

With a wry smile and a knowing look, Marcus glanced at him. “Excuse me, but that’s a redundant question. Don’t you realize that this woman would become involved whether it was for her mother’s sake or not? Just by being there, she figures she has the right to know. Am I right?” Marcus asked flicking a glance toward me.

I hesitated for a second before I said, “Well, yeah. There’s no way I’ll allow my mother to be railroaded by Mrs. Galumpky and the police. What kind of a daughter would I be?” Lying by omission and rationalizing my behavior were two things I’d become most adept at, but this time around, I’d just told the truth. My family was a priority, always was and always will be.

“Next question, how is your father dealing with this?” Marcus asked.

“Not well. He’s called an attorney for my mother by now and is happy to have me look into things for her.”

A surprised expression filtered across his face as he stared at me. Marcus was well aware of my father’s inability to accept the way I lived my life. Dad always ranted on about how I should settle down, get married, and have a bundle of rug rats that would play soccer and eat pasta. Yeah, like that was on my agenda.

“You’re kidding, right?” He shook his head and smirked.

“No, he was actually pleased to think I was going to interfere with the investigation.” I swept my long dark hair off my shoulders and lifted my chin a tad.

“Don’t you think I can prove my mother didn’t do it?” I asked hearing the challenge in my voice. I slid cookies onto a plate and stared at Marcus.

A smirk crossed Marcus’s lips. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it. I just know better than to think you’d stay out of it. I’m surprised at your father’s acceptance of the idea.”

Rafael leaned away from the counter. He’d heard my father’s thoughts on my behavior before, but had never offered an opinion.

“I have to get back on the road,” Marcus said. “If there’s anything I can do to help your mother, I will. Let me know what happens, and try to stay out of harm’s way, will you?”

He stepped toward me and kissed my lips, sending shivers down my spine. My lower parts tingled with anticipation of something that wouldn’t happen right now. Shucks.

With cookies in hand, Marcus left. The coffee perked while Rafe and I settled in the living room to share the divine delights made by my mother.

Chapter 3

“Why would someone want to murder an old woman? What made her the target? Did she know something about someone that caused them to feel threatened?” Rafe spit the questions out rapid-fire as we lounged in front of the fireplace.

While I served coffee, Rafe had turned the gas fireplace on and within minutes the room became toasty warm. He’d settled on the large sofa. I’d taken the high-backed, soft-cushioned chair next to the hearth, propping my feet on the ottoman.

“I don’t know the answers to those questions.”

“Mmm,” he murmured and glanced around. “You have boxes spread around the room. Are you decorating for Christmas?”

“That was why I stopped in to see my mother today. I knew she’d be with the seniors. I wanted her help to pick out my tree.”

“Do you get a real tree every year?”

“It’s the only kind I consider. It’s messy but smells wonderful.”

He smiled but said nothing. Reaching for a cookie, he glanced at me. I stared back at the man who had a second sense about things. Rafael Collucci, a Boston native, was a nice guy, endowed with impeccable manners, though he acted somewhat naïve at times.

When Rafael had showed up on my doorstep with his rich blue eyes, thick eyelashes, dark hair, and luscious dimples, I’d thought he was a mirage. Tall, lean, narrow-hipped, and fair-skinned, he was as far from Aaron as he could have gotten. I had looked Rafe over while wondering if the gods had deposited him on the doorstep. When he spoke, his voice was musical, fine-tuned like a magic harp, and mesmerizing to listen to.

With a grin, he’d entered the foyer of the two-story colonial. After explaining he’d been sent to look at the apartment by Lola Trapezi, I had stepped back and led the way to the second floor unit. While Aaron was loath to have his home invaded, he had agreed to a sublet situation, so I wouldn’t be alone in the rambling building while he was away. Since Lola recommended Rafe, that was good enough for me. She was my best friend from way back, and owned the Salt & Pepper Deli on the corner, down the street from my house.

Living in a small village has its benefits. Everyone knows most everyone, and all of their business. If there’s a problem, the news spreads like wildfire and for the most part, help is available from the least likely people. I’d learned this firsthand.

“Explain again what happened and what you know about this woman,” Rafe said, bringing me out of my reverie.

In a few minutes, I’d shared the details and said I didn’t know anything about the woman at all. Rafe was more than astute. It seemed he saw and heard things the average person didn’t. His second sense was very handy when it came to ferreting out possibilities that didn’t show themselves to the average person. In awe of his intuition, I wondered where this conversation would lead.

“You might start by learning what this woman was about. Find out who her friends were and ask them for the details of her life. Will you go to her wake and funeral?” he asked and then shook his head at the question as he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees, fingertips lightly clasped together. “Of course you will. It was a foolish question on my part, sorry. I know you’ll lift every rock and pebble to see what lies beneath it in order to protect your mother.” His blue eyes gleamed as he stared at me.

“That’s right, I will. No one is going to pin this on her. I’ll start by looking into this battleaxe, Mrs. Galumpky. She was quick to try and cast suspicion on my mother. If she’d had her way, my mother would have left the building in handcuffs. Whether Mom will be allowed access to the senior center during this investigation is another matter.”

We discussed the possibilities until Rafael glanced at his watch. He grinned and said, “It’s late, and I should leave. Let me know what I can do to help you, Vinnie. I’ll stop by and see your mother tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”

“Please don’t do that. I’ve told her not to speak to anyone about this. I’ll tell her that you send your regards, though.”

Rafe stared at me for a moment before nodding in agreement. He left by way of the living room door to climb the front stairs to Aaron’s apartment.

The second floor apartment door closed with a click. I checked the outer front door to make sure it was bolted. I then locked up my apartment and made sure the windows were secure before remembering the rear door had been unlocked when Marcus arrived. Striding into the hallway, I slid the bolt into place.

Re-entering my kitchen, I stepped up to the French atrium doors and gazed at the gigantic full moon suspended in the dark night sky. The doors offered a splendid view of the halo surrounding the pale planet. I stood and stared upward, wondering if I should step outside and dance to the moon for good luck. I wasn’t even sure if it was the right time to do it, but I did it anyway.

My feet swiveled in place as I swirled in a circle. My arms extended toward the night sky. I swayed, rocked, and danced a few steps, uttering wishes for my mother and our family. Call me silly, but my astrology friend, Monica Heartworthy, had mentioned that dancing to the full moon brought good luck.

Having attended a small party held by Lola, Monica had been the center of attention. She’d read tarot cards for all who attended and gave a most inspiring lecture on the effects the moon, sun, and the surrounding planets have on people’s lives. I was so interested in what she had to say, I’d stayed after everyone had left to have a one-on-one conversation with her.

We’d become friends. I met with her occasionally to chat. Her words about the moon dance had come to mind when I’d glanced out the door to see the glowing, spherical moon hanging ornamentally in the darkness. This beauty needed to be rendered on paper, I thought as my dance came to an end.

Closing the door against the cold, brisk night air, I raced into the office and hauled my painting equipment into the kitchen. From the doorway, I sketched a quick rendering of the scene on pastel paper using colored pastel chalks to get the scene down. I then collected my camera from the office desk drawer. Taking several photos from different stances on the deck to get angles and perspectives, I finished quickly, and hurried indoors, chilled from the night air.

The lock clicked in place as I turned the doorknob. I drew heavy drapes across the windows. Cold clung to my clothing, and I rubbed my arms to warm my skin.
I must be nuts.

The sketch lay on the counter. I smiled and stared at the rough draft. It would make a perfect painting for Giovanni’s Christmas gift. He was a fan when it came to my artwork, hinting that he needed something to put in their living room.

Aaron had hung one of my designs over the fireplace in the upstairs apartment. Thinking of his lack of contact since he’d gone to Washington left me a bit uneasy.

I sighed and turned away from the thought that something might be amiss with Aaron. I tucked the illustration into a large portfolio in the office. The problem with pastel chalk that hasn’t been sprayed with a fixative is its tendency to jump off the paper and spread everywhere if left exposed. Securing the portfolio string, I tucked the work away.

Thoughts of my mother nagged at me as I finished packing up the art supplies. It was late and another day of classes would start in a few hours. Some much needed rest was on the agenda before I could address the ongoing investigation into Iva Lindon’s life.

I headed toward the bedroom. No sooner had I changed and slid under the heavy down comforter than the phone rang.

Before answering the phone, I checked the caller ID, which revealed a local number.

“Lavinia Esposito speaking.”

“Vinnie, it’s Monica Heartworthy.”

Surprised, I said, “Hi, what’s up?”

“I was just reading the cards and you popped into my head. Is everything all right with you?” Monica asked, a concerned tone in her voice.

“I’m fine, Monica. My mother is having some difficulties right now, but you’ll be happy to know I danced to the moon to bring luck to her.” I smiled at the thought of how I must have appeared and was glad nobody had been around to see me.

A chuckle crossed the line, and I smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Monica said. “The thing is that it’s imperative for you to be careful right now. Extremely careful, Vinnie. There are dangerous forces at work concerning you.”

“So what else is new?” I asked. “My life is constantly surrounded by things I have no control over.” I chuckled.

Monica didn’t return the laughter, instead she sighed. Her soft voice soothed people when she spoke. I always became so by the sound. Her piquant face and crooked grin came to mind along with the ragged, sculpted dark hair that hugged her head. Monica, a willowy wisp of a woman no more than five feet three in stature, packed a wallop with her intuitive abilities. Her eyeteeth overlapped the small rounded front teeth in her smile. She beguiled people with her warmth and friendliness, while reading them at the same time.

In a matter of minutes she explained how she’d come to know of the plight affecting my life. Monica issued sound advice as to how I should proceed with care. Not that I listen to advice often, I did take her well-meant words to heart and agreed to be careful.

When the line went dead, I set the phone in its cradle and slipped under the warm comforter. My mind wandered all over the place as I tried to relax. It would do no good to jump to conclusions of who was guilty of killing Iva Lindon and why.
Facts, Vinnie, facts are what you need,
my little voice reminded me
.
For once I agreed and turned over in search of sleep.