J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 06 - Death Gone Awry (4 page)

I glanced at Aaron, but his gaze never left Lola’s face.

“Are you sure that’s all?” he asked.

The man could read people. I put it down to FBI training 101.

Lola glanced up and said, “Well, no, not really. I need a favor that includes both of you.”

“Why both of us?” I asked.

“Aaron came by the deli earlier today and said he would be out of town for a while. Then Monica Heartworthy, my psychic friend, came in and mentioned she needed a place to stay until the water pipes in her apartment could be repaired. The place was flooded and ended in serious water damage.” Her eyes leapt from Aaron’s face to mine as she spoke.

“And how does that concern Aaron and me?”

Lola’s eyes lingered on Aaron.

“Since you’ll be away,” Lola said to Aaron before she turned to me, “and since you are the landlady, would either of you mind if Monica stayed in this apartment until her repairs are addressed?”

Far from what I’d imagined, I stared at her for a moment before glancing at Aaron. He appeared to weigh Lola’s words carefully.

“Would she be living alone?” Aaron asked.

Lola nodded. “Monica doesn’t have any pets, either. From what I’ve seen of her place, she’s a good housekeeper, too. You needn’t worry about that during your absence.”

Aaron’s gaze settled on me. His face serious, he said, “I don’t mind, if you don’t, Vin. Monica’s a decent sort and seems trustworthy. I’d rather have someone else in the building while I’m away, especially in view of the fact that you can’t stay out of trouble for more than half a minute.” His smile softened the remark.

“Sure, if you don’t care that she’s here in your place, Aaron, I’m fine with the arrangement. She’s not involved in the mob or anything, is she?” I asked Lola.

“Why would you think that?” Lola asked with a bland expression.

“Just asking. I have enough trouble staying out of trouble, if you get my drift.” I chuckled as she laughed.

“Then, we’re all set? Monica can move in this week?”

Aaron nodded.

“Fine, I leave early tomorrow morning. She can move in any time after that. What do you think, Vin?”

“Sounds good to me.” I stared at Lola for a second and then asked, “What else is on your mind, Lola?”

“N-nothing. Why?” she asked.

“There’s something going on, and I want to know what it is. Does it include the minister guy, Tim Slaggard?”

Her wide, round gaze locked onto me for a second before darting away. Aaron glanced at me with a tiny nod when I looked at him. I took it to mean that he’d given me the go-ahead to harangue Lola about her secret.

“I know nothing about him except he comes into the deli for an occasional meal.” Lola’s face took on a reddish glow that became more pronounced as time went on, a sure sign she was lying.

Rolling my eyes, I said in a wiseass tone, “You can’t lie for shit. You never could, so why try now?”

She took a deep breath, looked as though she’d say something, and then slumped against the back of the chair again.

“You were always the better liar. I should have known I couldn’t get away with it. Sorry.” Lola plucked at the trim on the scarf around her neck.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I come to you with my woes, now fess up and let me help you.”

“I think Tim might have been attacked by Frankie Tomatoes.” What appeared to be sadness filled Lola’s eyes.

Why this petite woman was sad about Frankie “Tomatoes” Sarducci and Tim Slaggard was beyond me. Frankie Tomatoes, an independent contractor for the mob, better known as a hit man, took great pride in an old family tradition of growing tomatoes on the small patch of garden behind his home on Federal Hill, in Providence. He’d hand the tomatoes out to all his friends with great ceremony. If you received tomatoes you weren’t likely to be on the whack list. The whack list was made up of those poor slobs who met with an untimely death. It was never proven that Frankie Tomatoes ever whacked anyone, and his cover story always held up against the most vicious and intense questioning by law enforcement.

“What do you know about Frankie Tomatoes?” Aaron asked Lola, his eyes agleam with interest.

“And what would Tim Slaggard have to do with him or the mob?” I added.

“Tim started his own church and Frankie’s wife is a member of the congregation. She’s dumped tons of money into the coffers.” Lola glanced at both of us in turn. “Tim mentioned Mrs. Sarducci the last time he was in the deli. Millie was on a bank run for me, so I served his lunch. The way he spoke of Mrs. Sarducci gave me the impression that he was quite taken with her. I’m only guessing here, I might be way off the mark, you know.”

My imagination flew over the possibilities as questions quickly piled one on top of the other. Why would Frankie Tomatoes try to kill Slaggard at the reservoir? Why not at the landfill or somewhere more interesting and less visible? Was Mrs. Sarducci involved emotionally or sexually with Tim, or could it merely be a money matter? These and more questions vied for space on the tip of my tongue.

Looking Aaron straight in the eye, Lola explained that her brother Bobby headed the task force within the Providence Police Department, which looked into mob affairs. She said he’d mentioned Frankie Tomatoes more than once. When Slaggard spoke of Mrs. Sarducci and the church, it had piqued her curiosity.

Silent until she finished her explanation, I watched Aaron’s face take on a mask of innocence.

“You think this man Frankie Tomatoes may have tried to kill Mr. Slaggard?” Aaron asked Lola.

“I’m uncertain of what to think, but you must admit it’s quite a coincidence.”

I glanced at each of them. Not wanting Lola to become the object of an investigation, I jumped into the conversation.

“It could be that Slaggard has made other enemies. When Bill MacNert spoke of the man, he did so with great distaste and hostility. He said Slaggard was no better than a thief.”

Lola twiddled with her scarf again without looking up, and said, “These types of churches spring up everywhere. The FBI must keep an eye on most of them. At least that’s what Bobby thinks.”

There was more, but I knew she wouldn’t say so. I slipped off the chair and slung my jacket and handbag over my arm.

“Come downstairs and have some wine. I’ll make a snack if you’re hungry,” I said to Lola.

She smiled and gathered her belongings. She went out the door with a good-bye to Aaron, her shoes tapping on the stairs. I glanced at Aaron and wished him a good trip.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” I asked.

“Around seven in the morning, will you be up?”

“I’ll have the coffee on and you can stop in before you leave town.” I smiled at the sparkle in his eyes.

“Take care of Lola while I’m gone. It’s evident there’s more that she’s concerned about. Don’t be too hard on her, will you?”

“I’ll look out for her, you can count on that. You’re such a big softy.” I chuckled and scooted down the stairs.

Lola waited outside my apartment door, her forehead crinkled with what looked like concern. In an effort to give her a chance to unwind, I opened the door in silence and waved her in.
Chapter 4

Wine, crumbled cheese, leftover grapes, and cracker bits lay scattered across the coffee table. The gas fireplace warmed the living room. Sprawled across the sofa, I gazed at Lola curled up in a wingback chair with space left over. I smiled as she sipped wine and nibbled a remaining cracker in comfortable silence.

She turned her dark eyes toward me and smiled in a sad sort of way, heaving a sigh.

“I might close the deli and open a tea shop. What do you think?”

“Is that why you look so forlorn?”

She nodded and gazed into the fireplace. “Though I’m attached to the deli, I’m tired of making sandwiches and meals. I want to make cupcakes, trifles, and pots of tea instead.” She sighed again. “I need a change.”

“That’s not much of a change. I thought you had romance issues, not menu issues,” I commented with mixed emotions.

“Romance? You think there’s no romance in my life?” Her laughter tinkled across the room.

“Let’s face it, your dance card hasn’t exactly been full lately, Lola.”

“True enough.” Lola shrugged. “Though, I have been out with Jonah Franklin. He asked me to dinner and a show three times in the last month. Charming man that he is, I don’t think I could get serious over him, and then there’s Porter Anderson. We’ve been out a couple times too.”

“Really? You never let on that you’d seen Jonah or Porter more than once.” Surprised at her silence over the matter, I asked, “Why the hold-out?”

“You’ve been so busy with one catastrophe after another that I failed to mention it. Your life is much more interesting than mine.”

“Interesting?” I smirked. “That’s not what my father, Marcus, or Aaron would say.” I chuckled. “Tell me about Jonah.”

Jonah Franklin’s tall, lean body and laid-back smile accompanied looks that weren’t too hard to take. We weren’t close friends, though he’d been the arresting officer after a stalker attacked me in the local cemetery a while back. In the midst of hand-to-hand combat, since I’m not one to back down, the bad-ass stalker had gotten the upper hand. Aaron and Jonah arrived in the nick of time to save my sorry butt. The stalker now resides as a guest of the same loony bin in which he’d been a former resident.

“There’s nothing to tell. We went out, ate, and went to a film. End of story. No fireworks, hot sex, or heavy breathing, for that matter. He’s the epitome of a gentleman.” Her eyes rolled.

A loud guffaw was my response to her story. If she’d been looking for a hot date, I guessed that Jonah didn’t fit the bill. Too bad . . . She couldn’t find a nicer guy than Jonah.

“Did you let him know you wanted to walk on the wild side? Some guys need prompting, you know.”

“Cripes Vinnie, what was I going to say? ‘Gee Jonah, I could really use some hot and heavy sex right about now?’ or maybe how about this . . . ‘If you’re up to the task, I’d like to get laid, Jonah.’ ”

Laughter rocked the room. I couldn’t help myself, and Lola laughed along with me. Her initial indignation was one thing, but when those words rolled from her lips, it was more than I could handle.

“So, how would you have had me handle it, Vin? Did you make a play for Marcus right away or was he the gentleman of all gentlemen?”

“It was odd how it happened, but to say he was a gentleman, uh, well, he just rocked my socks from the get-go and when one thing led to another, I rolled with it. Sorry I can’t be more help than that.”

“Have you and Aaron ever gotten that close, or nearly so?” Lola asked.

“No, but if Marcus hadn’t stepped into my life the way he had, Aaron would have topped my wish list.”

“That officer, Harvard Bernard, is a cutie. Don’t you think?” she asked.

“To be honest, I didn’t notice. I couldn’t get past the name.” I thought about him for a moment. “Now that you mention it, he’s cute in a sweet, boy-next-door kind of way. Aaron handled him efficiently when I nearly lost my patience with his questioning techniques.”

“Aaron can charm anyone.” Lola smirked. “Did you see how interested he became when I mentioned Frankie Tomatoes and Mr. Slaggard? What was that about?”

The glass of wine spilled across my lap onto the floor. I jumped off the sofa, sopping the moisture up with a napkin. God had come to my rescue once again by giving me this reprieve so I wouldn’t have to offer an opinion.

“Dammit, the wine will never come out of this fabric.” I scooted into the bedroom, stripped the sweatpants off and changed into another pair. Taking the stained clothing into the laundry room, I started the washer and sprayed the wine with stain remover.

Wandering into the room, Lola leaned against the dryer to watch. She waited until the washer started to agitate and then turned a suspicious glare toward me as we walked into the living room and settled down again.

“Are you keeping something from me about your relationship with Aaron?”

“No, we’re friends, that’s all. Why would you think otherwise?”

“I don’t mean that way.” Her brows hiked. “I mean it in the law-and-order way.”

Sweat moistened my armpits, my mouth dried up like parched desert sand, and my mind flew over the possible lies I might come up with in answer to her query.

“Aaron works for the Gaming Commission, that’s all I know about his job. Do you think he heard about Frankie through assorted contacts at his job?”

Lola seemed to accept that idea. “That hadn’t occurred to me, Vin, but Rhode Island is small. He may have heard by way of someone on the Commission. Frankie does gamble, as well as engage in other illegal acts.”

I nodded. “That’s probably why Aaron showed interest then.”

My inner voice started its rant.
You got out of that one didn’t you? It’s not fair to lie to your friends, even if you’re asked to do so.

Shut the hell up.
The thought nearly jumped out of my mouth. I must be losing my mind.

Rising from the chair, Lola glanced at her watch. The wine glass in her hand, she motioned to the platter of scraps.

“You aren’t having any more of these, are you?”

“Nah, I’ve had enough and shouldn’t even indulge myself with too much wine, I have to teach tomorrow.” I smirked, got up, and cleared the coffee table.

We trooped into the kitchen, set the dirty glasses on the counter, and stashed the other items. Lola got ready to leave and turned toward the door, her Dooney & Bourke bag draped over her shoulder.

A rap on the door sounded as Lola reached for the handle. She glanced at me, eyes wide, her eyebrows arched.

I nodded and she swung the door open. We gaped into the hallway where Harvard Bernard stood with his hand raised to knock again.

His brown eyes lit on Lola. A bright shade of pink filtered into his cheeks as he stared at her. The man was slight in build and cropped sandy-brown hair covered his head. His smile showed short, even teeth in a sweetheart face. As a law enforcement agent, he was a far cry from my usual company.

Lola backed into the room, bumping against me while her gaze never left Harvard’s face. She stopped as her foot stepped on mine. I elbowed her aside, beckoning the man into the room.