Cold Moon Dead (22 page)

Unable to take my eyes off Jabroni, I stumbled to the chair and slid onto the seat. With a silent prayer of thanks that Jabroni had not passed on, I waited for someone to explain. I had, after all, seen him pronounced dead by the doctors.

“Pass Tony the meatballs, Lavinia,” my father ordered.

Numbly, I nodded and did as I was told. Now, that had to be a first.

“Would somebody like to tell me what the hell is going on here?” My impatience had compounded my already overwhelmed curiosity.

“Watch your mouth,” Dad said, as he served pasta to Jabroni.

Still looking at my father, I said, “Sorry, but you have to admit this is quite a surprise for me. I saw this man pronounced dead last night.”

“All in good time.” Dad waved his hand at me. “Now eat your dinner. We’ll talk after.”

Damn, I hate when that happens. I’m an immediate-results kind of person. I have to know the why and wherefore right away. No sidestepping, no nothing. It had always been that way for me.

The meal slid down my throat, but I don’t think I tasted any of it. Instead, I drank too much wine and stared at Jabroni way too long.

“I’m real, Vinnie. I’m not dead,” he said as he stared back at me.

It was as if the two men thought we hadn’t established that fact, and it annoyed the hell out of me.

“Then tell me how that happened. I saw you seriously stabbed on the floor in the gallery last night. I heard the doctor call the time of death. I saw the nurse cover you with a sheet. So how can you still be alive?” I must be stupid . . . or maybe I had lost my marbles. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the mob boss was alive and sitting at the dinner table with me and my father.

“Why are you here? Why aren’t you home with Mrs. J.?

“Enough with the questions, Lavinia.” His words sharp, my father warned me with a severe look.

Jabroni put his hand up to allay any other comments from my father. Dad sat back in the chair, in silence. I leaned my elbows on the table and waited.

“Let’s just say that had I not been smart enough to know I was on borrowed time, I would be dead right now. I want to thank you for acting as quickly as you did. I’m sorry that your friend Lola was so stricken. She had one helluva scare when she found me. I could hear, but couldn’t talk. The pain was bad, real bad. The bastard didn’t have a chance to finish me off though, thanks to Lola. He must have realized she was nearby so he left me there on the floor to die like a dog.”

“Lola was shocked, that’s for sure. I’m glad you didn’t die, though,” I said. “Why didn’t your wife show her face when the doctor said you were dead?”

“She put the hit out on me.” Jabroni stared at me for a moment before he said, “My men got too close to her affairs and she wanted to put an end to their snooping. By killing me, she could do whatever she wanted with all my money, and continue on with her own business without any interference from me.”

“What business would that be?” I asked, but had a suspicion that I knew the answer. It was a wonder I hadn’t made the connection before now.

“Mrs. J., as you call her, has a car theft ring going. She’s been indiscreet and now will be punished for her devious scheme. Had she come to me in the first place, I would have been willing to work things out with her. You know, as a backer of sorts. But she didn’t, and now I’m not so kind-spirited. Especially in light of the fact she tried to have me killed.”

Still unable to grasp what I’d been told, I sat dumbfounded, trying to think my way past the fact that Mrs. J. had likely stolen my car, threatened me, tried to kill her husband, and was a downright rotten person. There was one thing for certain. It was now Mrs. J. who was on borrowed time. I had to get to her before Tony did.

“Was she involved with the murder of Louie-the-Lug?”

Tony’s face took on a sad look. He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a while. The room grew still. I could feel the questions building as my curiosity took hold again.

After a swig of wine, I leaned forward and asked, “Why did she kill him?”

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I think he knew what she was up to and was about to tell me. He’d mentioned that we needed to talk upon my return to the house that day. Of course, he was dead when I got there and the place was crawling with your cop buddies.”

“How long has Mrs. J. been in the ‘grand theft’ auto business?”

Jabroni sighed and leaned back in the chair while my father served espresso coffee in demitasse cups. He placed a bottle of Amaretto on the table next to the cups. Jabroni poured a dollop of liquor into the steaming cup and sipped appreciatively.

“For longer than I thought. She was an actress when we met years ago. A beautiful woman then, but age hasn’t been kind, I’m afraid. Anyway, she had all this stage make-up and wigs that she used during performances. When she was on stage, she could play anything from an old crone to a fairy princess. Nobody could tell her age or identify her either. She was good, really good. Disguise is an art form, you know?”

He sipped some more, and my father refilled the tiny cup. “My guys managed to convince the doctor to pronounce me dead, just in case my wife showed up, which she did. That way I could get away from her without another attempt on my life.” He took a breath, grimaced, and said, “By the way, I thought you’d never leave the hospital room last night. I held my breath until I thought I’d pass out. You left and then I heard some scurrying footsteps. You were busy with my guys so probably didn’t see Mrs. J. escape down the hallway.”

Demitasse cups hold about a shot of espresso. I drank mine without adding liquor or sugar. The strong coffee scalded my throat as it went down and burned the pit of my stomach. When my father motioned to pour more, I waved him away with a shake of my head.

“Your guys are big dudes. She must have sneaked by while I was thanking them.” My thoughts turned to my family. “So, why are you hiding here with my parents?”

“I couldn’t go home.” He shrugged with his hands spread open.

“I know, but—”

My father interrupted, glaring at me. “He came here because I asked him to when he called me from the hospital after everyone left. That’s all you need to know.”

I nodded, silently acknowledging the fact that he probably owed Jabroni a favor. Maybe they were lifelong buddies or some crap like that. Hell, who knew why? Not me, that’s for sure. I’d probably never know, and some things are better left that way.

“Does Mom know?” I asked my father.

“Not yet. She will when she gets back tonight. He stayed in the spare room today.”

“That must have been interesting. She swarms over this house like a bee in a hive. How did you keep Mr. J. away from her?”

“Your mother was wrapped up in her meeting agenda all day. This new idea she has for the elderly is a big one. She wanted to make sure she covered every question that might be asked. I listened to her ramble on and on all day. When she looked like she was gonna head into the spare room, I asked her some questions and she was back into her plans again.” He sighed. “It’s been a long day and it ain’t over yet.”

“Does anyone else know you’re alive?” I asked Jabroni and then glanced at my father for a second. Silence lengthened and I realized others knew.

“Who knows?”

Jabroni glanced at my father and then he looked at me. “My men know, that’s it. They don’t like that I’m here and wanted to put me in a house at Bonnet Shores, but I said no. I want to be near my dear wife, so I can keep an eye on her and deal with her effectively.”

What did he mean by effectively? I wondered about that as I tapped my lips with a forefinger. Hmm, was he planning to kill the old witch before I got my car back? Not if I could help it.

“You plan to stay here for a while then?” I asked.

“I’m not sure how long. It depends on your mother,” Jabroni said. “Now, if you were to wait until she got home to smooth the way for me, I’d forever be in your debt.”

That statement said a lot. It meant my mother, the bake sale queen, did not like Tony Jabroni. I wondered why.

My father stared at me for a few minutes before he said, “Your mother and Tony don’t see eye to eye on certain issues. I’d appreciate some help here, Lavinia.”

Good grief, my father actually needed my help. Note it on the calendar as an important moment in history that may never happen again. I used the plea to my advantage.

“Why would you want to harbor a mob boss, Dad?”

A scowl was all I got in return for the question. Jabroni chuckled and I smiled sweetly.

“She has nerve, eh?” Jabroni glanced toward my father.

“You have no idea,” Dad muttered. His glance slanted in my direction at the sound of the car door slamming. “Lavinia, do what you can.”

With a nod, I watched the door open and my mother step into the kitchen. Her coat still buttoned, her hands gloved, a scarf wrapped around her neck, the woman stared at the three of us as though we were Martians. Now, that look has happened to me before, but not from my mother.

The chair slid back as I rose to take the hefty canvas bag from her. Filled to the brim with papers and notebooks, I placed it on the counter and asked how the meeting went. Maybe she hadn’t noticed Jabroni sitting at the table. That would have been too easy, and my life just doesn’t travel the easy lane.

“What is
he
doing here?” my mother asked with a cold glare moving between me and my father.

“Who?” I asked.

“Him.” Her chin jutted toward Jabroni. I could tell there would be no reasoning with her once she became angry.

“He came for dinner and stayed to see you. Dad thinks he should sleep over. What do you say to a house guest for a couple days, Mom?” This situation wasn’t going well.

“When hell freezes over, Lavinia.” Her arms slid out of the coat sleeves and she bunched the heavy coat over her arm. “When hell freezes over.” Her voice was grim. Her face wasn’t much happier.

My mother crossed the room, dropped her coat, gloves, and scarf onto a chair and poured a large glass of wine. She slugged it down like it was a glass of water. Nope, this wasn’t going to be easy.

I sidled up to her and whispered in her ear, “Mom, come into the living room for a minute, please.”

Her angry dark eyes glared at me before landing on the two men at the table. My father had never looked uncomfortable in all the years I’d known him. This was another first. Tony Jabroni simply sat at the table with his hands folded, waiting for me to work magic.

The bake sale queen and chocolate maker extraordinaire marched from the room without a word. She stood in front of the bay window in the living room awaiting an explanation as to why this mob boss should take up space in her home. My mind raced in circles looking for an answer to the question.

“This had better be good, Lavinia,” she said, anger sparkling in her eyes.

“It’s a long story, but to put it in a thimble, Jabroni was stabbed at a party I was at last night. His wife wants him dead, and I think Dad owes him a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

With a shrug, I said, “I don’t know. It’s more of a suspicion on my part than anything else.”

“Do you think I want that riff-raff in my home?” she snapped. “Nonna would have a fit.”

“So, don’t tell Nonna.” My grandmother can be forbidding on a good day and to get on her bad side was just plain foolish. I knew where my mother was coming from on that front.

“Why don’t you like Jabroni, anyway?” I asked in a soft whisper.

“That is none of your business. Let’s just say that his wife is on the right track and has my blessing for success in her current endeavor to kill this bastard.”

Awed by the depth of negative emotion my mother held toward Jabroni, I couldn’t imagine what had taken place that was bad enough to earn this much hostility. My curiosity was out of control by this time, and I had an irrational need to know. Too bad I couldn’t wheedle it out of her, I thought, but I knew better than to press any harder for information.

“So what you’re saying here is that if Mrs. J. wants him dead, that’s okay with you?”

Mom’s face held a pinched look. She abruptly sat on the wing-backed chair, her head in her hands. The room remained silent for a few seconds that seemed like hours, while I waited to see what she would do or say.

“Lavinia,” she whispered, “you know I never wish anything bad on anyone, but some people are already bad and get worse by the day. They go unpunished for the things they do and the sadness they bring to others. It just isn’t fair.”

I rested my butt on the arm of the chair and rubbed her shoulder. Tense muscles bunched under my palm. Whatever had happened must have been awful to bring this response from my mother. As a rule, my mom was a relaxed person who found pleasure in the everyday affairs of life. She enjoyed baking, making candy, working with the elderly, and doing the accounts for my gift shop in Providence. I was surprised to see her in this state.

“If you don’t want him to stay here, then I’ll take him to my place for a few days.”

Jumping to her feet, my mother held her arms tightly to her sides, hands fisted. “You will not do that. He can stay here until I can’t stand him another second.” Her breath came in short bursts. “I will not have him endanger you in any way. Stay away from this man, I’m telling you.”

In light of her anger and tension, I nodded in agreement. If she would keep Jabroni here, then I wouldn’t dream of interfering. That solution was the best one, at any rate.

“C’mon, let’s go back into the kitchen.” I placed an arm around Mom’s shoulders as we entered the next room.

Both men were seated where we had left them. They looked like mannequins with moveable arms and legs. Neither said a word, but waited for an answer. Mom and I took seats at the table, Mom sitting on her discarded coat. She glanced at each man in turn, her eyes taking on an ominous gleam. This was a side of my mother that I had never seen and hoped never to see again.

“Let me set the ground rules.” She stared at my father. “You know why I don’t want this man here, but out of concern for the welfare of my only daughter I will allow him to stay.”