To Brie or Not to Brie (28 page)

She exhaled and nodded.

I returned my gaze to Sylvie. “Thanks so much for your concern about my health and
well-being, but I must get back to my customers.” A few lingered in a line. “Oh, look,
there’s Matthew.” I waved to him in the wine annex. “Matthew, Sylvie’s here.”

He shot me a scathing look. Sylvie missed it and left us to chat with him. Though
she would hold him accountable for last night’s attack, as well, I knew he could handle
himself. At least, I hoped he could.

As the minutes of the morning ticked by, I kept wondering when Vinnie would appear
demanding payment. Before going to bed, I had reviewed my savings account statement
online. It hadn’t changed an iota from when I had scanned it two weeks ago. The number
still read twenty thousand dollars. I had set the cash aside for my wedding and renovations
on my house, but I would gladly give Vinnie the whole bundle if he would go away and
keep silent about Jordan and Jacky’s whereabouts.

Close to noon, the door to the shop swung open. I looked
up, expecting to see Vinnie. My spirits soared when Jordan swaggered in carrying a
wicker picnic basket. Working outside on the set for
Hamlet
was making him even that much more handsome. His skin glowed with a fresh tan. His
eyes sparkled with sex appeal.

“Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a bold, Shakespearean tone as he skirted
the line of customers and cut around the register. “Milady,” he said, addressing me.
He pulled a tablecloth from the hamper, snapped it like a gentleman’s cape, and laid
it at my feet. He reached for my hand. “Might I dine with you at the Village Green?
Thou dost look starved and in need of food and libation.”

“What does libation mean?” Tyanne whispered.

“Drink,” I answered. Continuing Jordan’s playfulness, I said, “And what, pray tell,
kind sir, might you have in your basket?”

“For thee, only the best of the best. A wedge of Pace Hill Farm Gouda, a hunk of freshly
made sourdough, raw vegetables from the Pace Hill Farm garden, and an herb-and-sour-cream
dip that I made myself. It will delight your fancy.” Jordan held up a finger. “If
this is not enough to satisfy milady, I have purchased a warm chicken pot pie from
the purveyor of fine food across the way.” He was referring to the Country Kitchen
diner. “And if milady needs more sustenance, I have brought caramel goat cheese cookies
from the Providence Pâtisserie.” He bowed gallantly. “I offer you a feast…and me.”

I applauded. So did my customers.

Tyanne nudged me with her hip. “Go, sugar. He’s too delicious for words. I’ll handle
the counter.”

As I started to untie the strings of my apron, Rebecca tore into the shop. The door
hit the cheese-shaped doorstop with a clack. Gasping for breath, she said, “He’s dead.”

“Who?” I said.

“Vinnie Capriotti.”

My mouth fell open.

Jordan whispered, “You’re kidding.”

“He was found at the Igloo,” Rebecca said.

“The Igloo?” I echoed. “Again?”

She nodded. “Someone killed him with an ice pick.”

My lungs constricted. Murmurs of concern passed between the customers.

“I would have come back earlier,” Rebecca said, “but everything was happening so fast.
Chief Urso is already there, as well as the coroner and a crime scene tech. The Scoops
found him.”

Those poor teenagers. Finding two dead bodies in the same week. “When did it happen?”
I said.

“Sometime between nine and midnight. The Igloo is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays.”

“At nine,” I murmured. Right after Vinnie stormed from my house. Right after I had
called Jordan. Even though I knew he had nothing to do with this, I cut a quick glance
in his direction.

Jordan said, “Don’t worry. I have an ironclad alibi. I was with our chief of police
building sets. Remember I said I had a sneaking suspicion where he might be? We didn’t
finish until midnight.” Jordan swooped up the tablecloth and stuffed it into his food
basket. “I’m sorry. I’ll have to offer a rain check on the lunch. I’ve got to track
down my sister.”

“Sure, fine.” Who could eat at a time like this? My appetite was gone with the wind.

* * *

A second murder in less than a week was good enough reason to close Fromagerie Bessette
for an hour so that we could all get the news firsthand, but Matthew insisted we remain
open. He would stay behind. He had so much to do to prepare the annex for the rehearsal
dinner.

Rebecca and I flew out of the shop and nearly steamrolled
Freckles as she exited Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe. As a trio, we raced toward the crime
scene.

“You heard, obviously,” Freckles said. “Isn’t it terrible? I left my elder daughter
watching the baby at the shop. Do you think that’s okay?”

I nodded. “I think the killer wanted both Capriottis dead. This is a family affair.
It has nothing to do with the folks in Providence.” Saying the words out loud made
me feel a whole ton better. I actually believed them.

Rebecca said, “You mean
family
as in
Mafia
?”

“I don’t know, but it’s too coincidental that both men would wind up dead within a
week, hundreds of miles from home.”

Rebecca whistled. “I hope Jacky has an alibi.”

“She does,” Freckles said. “Me. After Cecily went to sleep, I was teaching Jacky how
to sew. We worked on feeding the thread through the machine and learning basic stitches
like the chain stitch and the zigzag stitch. She’s a natural. Which reminds me, Charlotte,
I need you for a final fitting. I know now isn’t a good time to mention that.” She
tittered. Her skin flushed pink, and her freckles turned deep brown. “Why don’t I
shove my foot in my mouth while I’m at it?”

“No, you keep talking,” I said. “You’re Jacky’s alibi. Chief Urso needs to know that.”

“Could Hugo have killed him?” Rebecca asked.

“I heard he’s out of town,” Freckles replied.

“Is he really?” Rebecca’s voice climbed an octave. “Or did he magically reappear in
time to commit another murder? Maybe Vinnie found out something horrible about Hugo,
you know, like why he leaves town all the time. Maybe he’s got some super-dark secret.”

“Do you think he’s a mass murderer?” Freckles gasped.

“I doubt it, but perhaps he’s married to someone else,” I said, which could be what
Iris had alluded to last week when she intimated that Jacky should be wary of Hugo.

But why would Hugo kill to hide such a common secret? And why would he use his own
business site to carry out yet another murder? A wiser man would have met his foe
in an alley or somewhere far from town. Poor Jacky. Right about now, she had to be
questioning her taste in men.

As we approached the Igloo, I spotted Urso exiting through the front door. When he
reached the sidewalk, he replaced his hat and addressed the crowd. “Folks, please
go back to your homes or jobs or shopping. This crime is solved.”

“So quickly?” I said to my pals.

Rebecca elbowed me. “Of course not. The chief simply wants everyone to leave.”

I splayed my hands. “But what if the case
is
solved?”

Rebecca folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not leaving until we find out.”

It seemed the rest of Providence intended to be just as stubborn. No one budged.

“Folks, really, I mean it,” Urso barked. “You will be able to read about this in the
morning news. I’m giving an exclusive to a reporter. Go!”

Grumbling, people started to move away. Stratton and other actors from
Hamlet
were among them. Octavia and Anabelle stood in front of All Booked Up. Anabelle was
peering through binoculars. Was she an eyewitness to this crime, as well?

Pulling Freckles with me, I weaved through the departing throng to the front of the
ice cream shop. Rebecca followed.

Before Urso crossed the threshold and returned inside, I said, “U-ey, hold up.”

He turned, his gaze cautious but not unfriendly.

“Jacky didn’t do this,” I said. “She has an alibi. Tell him, Freckles.”

Urso held up a palm. “No need. We know Jacky didn’t do it. We’ve got this one solved.”

“Really?” Freckles said. “I’m so relieved. In that case, I have to get back to the
store. My girls are alone.” She hurried away.

My curiosity wasn’t so quickly appeased. “Who did it?” I asked.

Rebecca closed ranks and said, “Yeah, who?”

Urso looked around for gawkers trying to listen in. No one stood within ten feet of
us. “Some old colleague of Vinnie’s followed him to Ohio to settle a score. He pinned
a warning note on Vinnie’s chest.”

“Are you joshing?” I said.

Urso’s mouth quirked up with satisfaction. “Luckily, there are some dumb bad guys.
There’s even a phone call from the guy on Vinnie’s cell phone.”

I said, “Last night Vinnie received a call right before he skedaddled from my place.
Was the call from the killer?”

Urso cut me a stern look. “About that. Why didn’t you call me first?”

“I called 911 and…” Embarrassed, I studied my fingernails. “Jordan said he would tell
you.”

Urso jammed his hands into his pockets, not happy but apparently resigned to the new
pecking order.

“Matthew arrived in seconds,” I went on. “And I felt in my gut that Vinnie wouldn’t
return. Now I know why. He was dead. When he left, he looked scared out of his mind.
I think he was worried about owing someone money.”

“I’ll bet the guy who killed him is a Mafia loan shark,” Rebecca said. “Am I right?”

“Have you caught the guy, U-ey?” I asked.

Urso shook his head. “Soon. Delilah saw a suspicious-looking guy driving a red Chevy
truck, so she took down the license plate number. It turns out the car belongs to
the guy who wrote the note. The state police are searching for him. I wish all cases
were this easy to crack.”

“I heard Vinnie was stabbed with an ice pick,” Rebecca
said. “Why didn’t the killer just shoot him? A Mafia guy would have done that. And
why were they in the Igloo?”

Urso sighed. “Miss Zook, I can’t answer all the questions. We found a bullet in the
wall. I’m assuming at least one of these guys had a gun.”

“Vinnie lost his gun at my house,” I blurted.

Urso frowned. “Jordan didn’t mention any gun.”

“I didn’t tell him. I forgot. I stored it in the safe in the study.” I gazed at the
Igloo and something clicked at the edges of my mind, but I couldn’t put my finger
on it. “U-ey, how do you think this played out?”

“Based on your news that Vinnie wasn’t carrying a weapon, I’m guessing the killer
caught up with Vinnie and coerced him into the Igloo.”

“Which was unlocked, yet again?” Rebecca looked skeptical.

Urso exhaled. “Vinnie fought him. They struggled. The gun went off, and then Vinnie
knocked the gun out of the killer’s hand. So the killer grabbed an ice pick.”

“Did you find the gun?” I asked.

Urso shook his head. “The killer must have retrieved it.”

The thing that I was trying to remember moments before popped into my mind. The two
Capriotti murders seemed similar. Both involved a fight; both involved an odd choice
of weapon. “Are you sure the bullet hole isn’t from the previous crime?”

Urso’s eyes widened. “No, I’m not. We weren’t looking for a bullet then, but now that
you mention it, I guess it’s possible, though the bullet was located pretty far away
from where we found Giacomo Capriotti’s body.” He scratched the back of his neck.
“I’ll have to check out that notion.”

“Do you know what kind of gun the bullet came from?” Rebecca asked.

I gaped. “Can you know something like that so quickly?”

“They do on
CSI
,” she said.

Urso grinned. “Actually, we do know, but only because our tech is an expert marksman.
He said it came from a Beretta.”

“Aha,” I said.

“Aha, what?” Urso eyed me.

“According to Jacky, her husband owned a Beretta. Let me offer a couple of theories
regarding his murder. One, Giacomo Capriotti did get a phone call from a woman or
a man disguising his voice to sound like a woman.”

“Hugo,” Rebecca inserted.

“A woman, Hugo, somebody,” I said. “Based on that call, Giacomo came to town to find
Jacky. He had to meet his anonymous caller for more information.”

“What kind of information?” Urso asked.

“I’m assuming Giacomo didn’t know Jacky lived here. For a fee, the killer was going
to be more specific. The killer enticed Giacomo into the Igloo.”

“At gunpoint?” Urso looked dubious.

“No, Giacomo had the Beretta. I’m not sure how the killer lured him inside.” That
was a sticking point in my theory, but I pushed it to the back of my mind.

“It was Hugo,” Rebecca repeated. “I think he had his own gun.”

“Shh,” Urso said and indicated that I should continue.

“Whomever Giacomo met gave him the information and then demanded payment.”

Rebecca snorted. “That’s sort of backward. Usually you get the money, and then hand
over the goods.”

“Let’s assume the killer isn’t a pro,” I said. “Anyway, Giacomo reneged. The killer
got angry. Giacomo pulled out his gun. The killer fought him; the gun went off.”

“No one heard a shot that night,” Urso said.

“Did someone hear gunfire tonight?” I asked.

“I haven’t canvassed the town, but no one has come forward.”

“The freezer—” I hitched my thumb toward the Igloo. “I’m assuming Vinnie’s murder
happened in the freezer, too?”

Urso nodded.

“So let’s assume the freezer is soundproof,” I continued. “The killer and Giacomo
fought, the gun fired, and Giacomo lost control of the weapon. The killer didn’t have
time to retrieve the gun. He hoisted a container of ice cream, which would explain
why that was used as a weapon. Let’s face it. Using a vat of ice cream is just odd.”

Urso nodded. “Go on.”

“An ice pick is an unusual weapon, too. I’ll bet Vinnie’s killer heard about Giacomo’s
murder and knew it happened at the ice cream store, so he demanded Vinnie meet him
there.”