Dead Wrong (8 page)

Chapter 10

The car halted in front of the garage and I answered the rap on the door. Giovanni entered the house and swept past me, eager to see the interior. He glanced around and turned with a smile.

“This place looks great. You've changed some of the rooms, huh? I like the paintings and the lion is spectacular. Did Aunt Livvy give it to you?”

“She did. Of all the things she left me, this lion was always my favorite. It holds a secret compartment, too.” I explained the lion and how Marcus and I had found a bag of gems in the hollow leg earlier in the summer.

At the mention of the stolen gems, a shadow winged across his face. I motioned to a kitchen stool and poured a cup of steaming coffee. Sliding it toward him, I passed the jug of milk to him and waited until he was finished with it.

“I have some trash to throw out of the garage loft. It'll do you good to help me out,” I said.

“Sure, but I have a lecture this afternoon. So I can't stay past twelve, okay?”

“Do you really have a lecture?”

“Mmm, I wasn't lying. I just signed up for them as an excuse to come to Rhode Island.”

“Oh,” I said.

A thumping on the apartment door preceded Aaron's entrance. I grinned and watched Gio's reaction to the WWF-sized man. At six foot six, wide shouldered and muscle-bound, Aaron fit the bill of a Federation Wrestler. His physique was amazing and I caught myself drooling every now and then. His gorgeous features accompanied dark hair that curled around his collar a bit, a smile to die for, and chocolate-brown eyes that warmed when he liked what he saw.

He extended a hand and stood back, staring at each of us in turn. “You must be Giovanni,” he said. “You two look so much alike it's uncanny. Sort of like Gina and Cara.” He smiled and then chuckled.

“It's all in the genes, Aaron.”

With introductions out of the way, the two guys chatted about life in Nebraska and about Aaron's life.

Giovanni seemed at ease and pleased to think Aaron was so interested. Little did he know … but I couldn't tell him. But, then I wouldn't tell Aaron what I knew either. Blood is thicker than water and as twins, Gio and I were about as thick in blood as anyone can get.

A half hour later, Aaron left and we entered the garage. The building had a second-story loft above the bays. We trudged up the stairs and I gazed around at the overwhelming sight – boxes and bins piled high everywhere I looked. Plastic bags bulged with stuff and now that I saw the magnitude of the task ahead, I hesitated to start the process.

There'd been a small fire on the outer corner of the structure a few months prior. A kid from the neighborhood was sneaking a cigarette when a hot ash caught onto the dead Evergreen tree at the edge of the building. In a panic, the kid fled when the dry tinder burst into flames, toasting the corner of the garage. I'd had the damage repaired and now was incredulous this debris hadn't caught on fire as well.

Gio gazed around the loft. “What is all this?” he asked in wonder.

“I haven't a clue. I think it belonged to Aunt Livvy and she just kept adding to the piles over the years. My God, we need a dumpster.” Bewildered by the mess, I leaned against the handrail of the stairs. I hadn't realized there were quite so many boxes and wondered what could be in them.

“Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Vin.” My brother snickered.

“Right, I'll call around and see where I can get a dumpster for cheap money and have it delivered. Don't think you're getting out of helping me here. One hand washes the other, you know.” My eyebrows arched, I stared at the look on Gio's face.

He laughed. “I'm not staying for six months, ya know. That's how long it will take you to get this cleaned up.”

“Anyway, let's start by looking at what is here. Then I'll figure out what to toss.” I headed toward the closest box and pried the cardboard cover back.

Peering over my shoulder, Gio grunted and turned away. Mouse nests and fecal matter littered the top of the box contents. I whipped the gloves from my jacket pocket, slid them on, and lifted the debris away. Inside, rotted books and magazines filled every crevice.

“Looks valuable to me, Vin.” Gio chuckled.

My gaze slid to his face and I gave him a derisive glance.

“You could start over there – if you don't mind – Saint Doctor Giovanni Esposito,” I said.

“Hey, no name calling now.” He chuckled and headed toward the other end of the loft.

We worked for an hour, grunting and groaning in dismay, at the mass of trash Livvy had acquired over the years. Gio's silence didn't hit me right away since I was engrossed in deciding what to do with a load of old photos stacked a plastic bin. I shuffled through them and smiled to see pictures of me and Gio at the age of ten. We were tall and gangly even then. I pulled the picture out of the bin and turned toward Giovanni.

He held a tall frame, wrapped in brown paper, in his hands. I stood and wandered over. The glance Gio shot me, startled me and I gazed down at the wrapper.

“Who is it addressed to?” I asked as he drew the package toward his chest.

“You're not going to believe this, but it's addressed to Jill. It has great uncle's address in the corner. What's it doing here, Vin?”

“I haven't any idea,” I said and then stepped closer, prying the package from his hands.

My eyes swept over the two addresses and then I considered the shape the package was in. Dirty and dusty, the paper was worn on the edges and cardboard showed through. I tore the paper away and peeled the tape off the cardboard to see the painting within.

Leaning it against the wall, Gio and I stepped back and stared at the masterpiece before us. There was no doubt in my mind that it was the real thing. Don't ask me why or how, I just knew it. Maybe the fact that Great Uncle Nate's return address was on the wrapping had figured into the equation somehow.

“What do you think, Vin? Is it real?” he murmured.

“Yeah, I think so,” I mumbled as I peered at the signature on the painting. With a sharp breath, I leaned away from the piece.

“What?” Gio asked.

“It's real all right. Let's wrap it up and stuff it back into the pile. We need to talk somewhere extremely private.”

A sense of urgency settled over me and I hustled Giovanni out of the garage and down the street. We walked past the post office and headed toward the cemetery located at the end of a nearby lane. When we reached Livvy's grave, I turned to Gio.

“The FBI is curious as to what is going on in your business. I'm not supposed to know this, but someone slipped and told me. It has something to do with stolen art and artifacts. I think you are the suspect here, not Jill.” I paced back and forth, my fingernails tapping the enamel on my teeth.

“When did you find this out?” he asked, his face in a worried frown.

“Just recently.” It was all I could say and even then I was torn over having to keep the secrets of who was what, and why.

“You need to tell me more than that.” Gio grabbed my arms and stared into my face.

“Someone I know works for the FBI and we were having a conversation. It was mentioned that a rumor concerning you and art theft was rambling around. I got upset and swore you'd never do anything like that. I was reassured it was only a rumor.” I ran my hands through my hair and flipped it off my face. Hoping he wouldn't ask me anything more, I glanced away.

“Then what?” he asked, his face tense.

“That's all,” I assured him. Cripes, you want it in blood?

His dark glance strayed to his watch and he turned toward the path, away from Livvy's grave. “I have to go, the lecture starts in an hour.” He glanced back and then pulled me toward him, placing an arm around my shoulder.

“Vin, can you go visit Great Aunt Lena for me? Find out if she knows anything about this business, please?”

The wheedling plea wasn't lost on me. I knew sooner or later that I would succumb to Giovanni's request. I nodded and said a silent prayer. Yeah, I prayed that I would be spared any harsh and unusual punishment for my involvement in this affair. Whether God listened was another matter.

“Great, I knew you'd do it. Thanks, Vin. I appreciate it.” His smile lingered for the length of our walk back to the house.

The inner voice that usually nagged me about dating lawmen, now nagged me because I'd just agreed to Gio's request. Becoming involved in this could be dangerous to me and detrimental to my career. I tried to shut the voice off, but it wouldn't go away.

As Gio drove away, I waved and headed back into the garage. I stood at the top of the steps and glanced around the loft once again. Nothing had prepared me for the package contents that Gio had found. I rummaged through the remaining piles, in an effort to see if there was more than one painting hidden. I found two more packages with Nate's name in one corner, addressed to Jill Esposito. Dang.

I put the three packages together and draped an old cloth over them. Larger boxes lay strewn around and I shoved them in front of Nate's packages. Unable to bring myself to look into the boxes heralding his name, I stood back and surveyed my attempt to hide them from prying eyes. Assured that I'd done well, I turned away from the loft. I padlocked the door at the bottom of the stairs and left the garage.

The afternoon stretched out before me and I realized there were exams to grade. I settled at the desk in my office with soft music playing and a sandwich at hand. Corrected papers to one side, I went through the grading process on my computer. The students had studied and the grading curve wasn't as sharp as I'd foreseen. Everyone passed. I smiled at the thought of how well they'd scored.

Once on the computer, I emailed everyone their grade and congratulated them for a job well done. I leaned back to finish my sandwich when the phone rang. Swallowing the last mouthful, I answered the summons.

“Vinnie speaking,” I said.

Porter Anderson's voice echoed in my ear. The connection was poor, and he cut in and out. I only heard half of what he said, but got the gist that he needed me to come to headquarters. Uh oh.

“Sure, I can do that. Will I need an attorney?” I chuckled.

He didn't laugh and my stomach knotted. “No Vin, you won't need an attorney. I need an ID though.”

“My ID?” I asked, but knew the answer.

“No, I need you to identify someone.” His voice hummed across the line before it went dead.

My jacket hung on the doorknob. I pulled it away and flung my arms into the sleeves as I hustled through the door. Speeding from the driveway, I drove to Providence, taking the exit for the police department. In the parking lot, I managed to find a narrow opening where I could park.

The Altima fit perfectly and it was lucky for me that I was slim or I'd never have gotten out of the car. Parking at headquarters was always at a premium.

Inside the front doors are two portals. I slung my handbag onto the conveyor belt, let it slide through the monitor, and then I walked into the portal. No alarms sounded and the officer behind the machine smiled and handed my bag to me.

“Can I help you, ma'am?” he asked.

I hate that ma'am thing, honestly, but I held that thought and smiled back.

“I'm here to see Detective Porter Anderson,” I said.

Eyebrows hiked and he stared. “Your name is?”

“Lavinia Esposito.” I watched for his reaction to the name, but he had none that showed, so I smiled and waited while he called Porter.

“There's a Lavinia Esposito to see you, sir.” He mumbled into the phone. He listened for a second and then set the phone down.

“Get into that elevator and go to the second floor. Detective Anderson will be waiting for you.” He pointed to the bank of elevators and then smiled.

“Thank you,” I said and scooted along.

The door opened when it reached the second floor and I stood facing Porter. His grim expression told me the news wasn't good. My stomach tightened and flip-flopped a couple times as I stepped out of the elevator.

“Hi. You kept cutting in and out and I couldn't hear everything you said. What's the matter?” I asked, nervous over what I thought had likely happened. Crisp was dead, that's what I thought.

“It's tough inside this building sometimes. It depends on the location. Concrete and steel aren't always conducive to cell phone reception. Sorry.” He grasped my arm lightly and turned me toward Detective Bellini's office.

Hell, I'd have to put up with two detectives today, not just Porter. Bellini and I have a like/hate type of relationship. As long as I don't fail his fledgling detectives, we're fine. Hot-tempered phone conversations have been a common occurrence – until lately. I owed him a favor for a favor, so I walked softly around the man now.

The door to Bellini's inner sanctum swung open. He stood with his hand on the doorknob and a smirk on his face. Porter steered me through the door. He settled in a chair before Bellini's desk and I took the one next to his. Bellini sat behind the metal desk and stared at me for a moment.

“How have you been, Vinnie?” he asked, affable in his demeanor.

“Good, I've been good, Detective. And you?” I asked. Anxious to get the formalities out of the way, I hitched back in the chair, lightly clasping my hands in front of me.

“Good. Anderson tells me you found a dead body. What was your relationship with the man?”

In a few words, I explained the situation and waited. What the hell was going on now? I wondered.

“We have another dead person in the morgue that I'd like you to see. It's nothing gross, but we need you to tell us if this is Nurse Crisp or not.”

“You found Nurse Crisp dead?” I asked. My eyes felt like they were bugging from my head.

“Porter says the woman is similar in looks to the picture you drew of Crisp. You can help us out by taking a look.” He nodded to Porter.