From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) (18 page)

An idea occurred to her. She could be throwing darts in the dark, but it was worth a try.

“Was whatever Vincenzo was blackmailing you about a threat to your wife?” The flicker of surprise she thought she saw in his eyes might just be her imagination. Or not. Maybe she’d hit on something. “Was Vincenzo blackmailing you about your relationship with Maria?”

Frankie shook his head dismissively. “Maria Acino is not a problem. In the grand scheme of things, she’s not anything to me. Certainly not blackmail material. And, assuming there was any truth to these so-called blackmail rumors, why would I tell you anything about it?”

“Because you want to know who killed Vincenzo for some other reason than idle curiosity. So, unless you killed Vincenzo and then hired my brother and I to keep you informed of how close the police were to pinning the rap on you, you more than want to know who the murderer is. You need to know.”

Frankie’s expression was unreadable. Sophia couldn’t tell if he was angry, amused, or somewhere in between. The man would have made a good actor, but obviously he’d been called to the streets, not the stage.

“I’m not going to stop asking questions until you give me something to work with.”

Frankie laughed. “You, Miss Mancini, are delightful. You are direct, to the point, and unafraid to ask questions that might be dangerous. In fact, if you were a man, I’d offer you a job with my organization.” He glanced over at the guard and lowered his voice. “As you are probably aware, my family conducts a business that is--how shall I put this--best operated with a certain degree of discretion. Hai capito?”

“Oh, I completely understand why you’d want to be discreet,” Sophia answered. She was doubtless overstepping a deferential line in the sand that most people didn’t cross when talking to a Vidoni family member, but an overwhelming sense of frustration egged her on. This entire meeting was a waste of time. “I can only imagine what lengths you’d go to keep certain information, shall we say, private. But you hired me to do a job, and that is what I’m doing. Or trying to do, but you’re being uncooperative.”

“Uncooperative? That’s not how I’m used to being described.” His tone had lost a little of its geniality.

She leaned in closer. “Why did you murder Vincenzo?”

“I didn’t.” A long moment passed before he spoke again. “I assure you I didn’t kill Vincenzo, and I don’t know who did. I can’t tell you anything else.”

Can’t. Not won’t. The subtlety wasn’t lost on her.

He may not have murdered Vincenzo, but he was lying about something. Something big. The tiniest inkling of an idea was beginning to form in her mind.

“If you’re in here, who is running your business?”

Frankie looked at her as if she had three heads. “You can’t seriously expect me to answer that.”

“Your house looked deserted yesterday, Mr. Vidoni,” she pressed on. “Where is your family?”

He frowned.

“Who is your second in command? I want to talk to him.”

“Enough.” Frankie sounded angry now.

Good. That meant she was on the right track. But she wouldn’t learn anything more directly from him, of that she was sure. She needed to dig around elsewhere.

She stood. “I think we’re done here, Mr. Vidoni.” She motioned to the guard she was ready to leave.

“Wait, Miss Mancini.” Frankie rose to his feet. “You’ve overstepped by asking too many questions about my family and my business dealings. I believe our association is over.”

She stared at him, too surprised to say anything. Surely she misunderstood?

“We’re at a dead end here.” Frankie flexed his fingers, the handcuffs preventing him from doing more than that. “You’re fired.”

***

As soon as Sophia saw Mooch, she let the cat out of the bag.

“Here’s your precious Precious.” She scooped the furry black ball of fur out of her shopping bag and dropped the kitten into Mooch’s outstretched hands. She pulled a chair up next to his bed so she could watch the love fest.

Mooch cradled the tiny kitten in his huge, beefy hands. Sophia studied him. His touch was gentle, his tone crooning. She’d already decided that he wasn’t the man who’d murdered Vincenzo. She couldn’t say with absolute certainty that he’d never hurt anyone else, but when Mooch denied killing Vincenzo, he spoke with a sincerity that she didn’t doubt.

She wished she could say the same thing about Frankie. She’d love to be able to cross him off the suspect list too.“What’s wrong?” Mooch asked, his voice scratchy almost beyond recognition.

“I don’t know who killed Vincenzo, and it’s driving me mad.” Sophia glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. She hadn’t seen a police officer stationed at the door when she’d entered. “I don’t know how much time we have before a nurse comes in and throws Precious and I out. Why isn’t there an officer outside of your door?”

Mooch shrugged. “I don’t need one.”

“Did the police decide that, or did you?”

He shrugged again. Was this how he answered every question?

“Did Captain McIntyre say why he took the guard off door duty?” she tried again.

“No.” Mooch cradled the content kitty in one hand, gently stroking it with the other. “But he knows that the person who poisoned me is the one in danger, not me.”

“So you know who did it?”

He shook his head. “No. But if I find out, I’d kill him before he could hurt me again.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Good heavens, Mooch. I hope you didn’t say it like that when you talked to the police. And how do you know the person who poisoned you was a man?”

Mooch knit his brow. “Why would a dame try to eliminate me?”

“It could just as easily be a woman as a man.” How irritating that he would assume a woman was incapable of murder. History was full of very successful female murderers. She shook her head. She was being irrational. She had to focus.

“Does it hurt to talk?”

Mooch shrugged. Again.

Sophia leaned forward. “Mooch, if we’re going to be friends, you’re going to have to actually talk to me. Using real words. I don’t know what this means.” She shrugged so he would understand exactly what she meant. “Let’s try again. Is it painful to speak?”

“It don’t hurt too bad.” He pulled the kitten’s tiny claws off of his pajama sleeve. He looked her square in the eye. “But I’m real mad at whoever did this to me.”

“I am too, Mooch. You didn’t deserve this. No one does. And we have to stop them from doing it again.”

“How? We don’t know who we’re looking for.”

“Not yet, no,” she conceded. “I had breakfast with the Iacobellis this morning. They wish you a speedy recovery.”

“What did Jimmy say?” The words came out as a strangled, tortured sound.

Even if Mooch didn’t complain, it had to hurt to talk. It hurt to listen.

Sophia reached for the water pitcher by the bed and poured a glass. She handed it to him, and took Precious in exchange so he could drink. A voice outside the door caught their attention just before the slow turn of the door knob.

Sophia whipped Precious behind her back and backed away from the bed. She stood, arms behind her, and tried to ignore the squirming kitten’s tiny claws on her forearm.

“How are we, Mr. DiMuccio?” The nurse stopped when she saw Sophia. She frowned. “Who do we have here?”

For a split second Sophia thought the nurse meant the kitten. She glanced over at Mooch.

“She’s my friend,” Mooch told the nurse. “Can you go away now?”

The nurse’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She looked at Sophia and gave her a once-over.

“Would your name happen to be Miss Mantelli?”

“It’s Mancini.”

“Ah, yes. I knew it was something Italian,” she replied, her tone speaking the disapproval her words didn’t dare give voice to. “That nice police captain told me that I was to keep your visits with Mr. DiMuccio short in the event you came around.”

Precious chose the inopportune time to meow, a plaintive sound that echoed in the quiet room.

The nurse jumped as if a cannon had been fired. “What was that?”

“My stomach,” Sophia lied quickly. She struggled to keep a squirming Precious from escaping her grip.

The nurse narrowed her eyes. She watched Sophia for a long moment, and then turned back to her patient. “I’ll give you just a moment more with your--friend--and then I’ll have to ask her to leave before the doctor begins his rounds.”

As soon as the door closed behind Nurse Sunshine, Sophia dropped Precious into Mooch’s outstretched hands.

“What’d ya do? Squeeze her?” Mooch demanded, examining the kitten for damage.

Sophia rolled her eyes. She felt like anything but a successful private detective at the moment. Wrangling a kitten and being spoken down to by a nurse was hardly the job she’d envisioned.

“Do you own a gray suit?” she asked Mooch.

He nodded. “Why?”

She ignored his question. She had more of her own. “Where is it?”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “At Bagatelli’s being mended. I ripped the sleeve.”

“When?”

“Why do you care?”

“Please just answer the question, Mooch. You’ll just have to trust me it’s important.”

He hesitated only a moment. “Last week. I found Precious on the roof of a warehouse and I rescued her. I caught my arm on a nail and the sleeve near tore off.”

Easy enough to verify with a quick trip to Bagatelli Brothers.

“Mooch, do the doctors know what kind of poison was in your food?”

He shrugged, and then looked up sheepishly. “Sorry. No, the doc didn’t say.”

“Listen carefully. I need your help with two things. One, when Dr. Casterinni comes by today, I want you to ask him to write down what kind of poison he thinks was in the food. I’ll call you later to find out what he said, okay?”

Mooch nodded, his face solemn.

“Good. Now the second thing is even more important. I need you to tell me what Vincenzo knew about Frankie Vidoni that he thought Frankie would pay to keep quiet.”

“No.”

“Come on, Mooch, you have to help me.” Sophia sat on the end of the bed. “I know you’re loyal to Frankie, and I respect that. But someone killed Vincenzo, tried to kill you, and Frankie might be next if we don’t do something.”

She watched Mooch struggle with his conscience. Loyalty was a trait she admired greatly, but she needed something to go on and Mooch had information she wanted.

“Everyone always talks about what Frankie is,” Mooch finally said. He coughed and then took a long sip of water. “No one talks about what he isn’t.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. Precious lay curled in his lap, batting a tiny paw at the blanket.

Sophia sat quietly and mulled over that puzzling remark. It looked as if that was all she was going to get out of Mooch, and she knew it was far more than he wanted to say in the first place. She wouldn’t push him any further, at least not now.

“Thank you, Mooch.” Whatever he’d meant by that cryptic remark, she and Angelo could puzzle it out later. At least it was something to go on. She scooped up Precious and plopped her into the bag. “Take good care of yourself, and don’t forget to ask Dr. Casterinni what he can tell you about the poison. I’ll call you this evening.”

He grunted. Sophia opened the door and turned back to wave goodbye. His forlorn expression saddened her.

“What is it, Mooch?”

“Are we friends?” he asked. “Really?”

“Really, really.” She held up the shopping bag. Precious was in the middle of a hissing fit. “I have to get your little fur ball out of here before we get caught. Rest well, my friend. I want you to get out of here and help me find Vincenzo’s killer.”

“So, sis, what was Frankie Vidoni so anxious to talk to you about that he had you hauled out of Carelli’s yesterday?”

Sophia cast her gaze out over the baseball field, and waved to Luciano. She deliberately avoided looking at her brother, partially out of annoyance and partially out of guilt.

“I’d hardly say hauled out,” she objected.

“Okay, summoned if that suits you better. What’s the matter with you, Sophia? You sound awfully churlish.”

“I don’t,” she snapped.

“I heard about your meeting with McIntyre too.”

Sophia turned and frowned at him. “If you know everything, then why are you asking me so many questions?”

A pang of guilt stung her when she saw the hurt look on his face. Angelo needed to know that Frankie had fired them, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell him the night before. The house had been full of relatives enjoying a lasagna dinner. It just hadn’t been the right time to drop the bomb on him.

But he needed to know. She took a deep breath.

“Hiya, cugina.”

Sophia glanced up. Andrea had joined them for the game. She smiled up at him, grateful for the distraction his presence would provide. She patted the bleacher seat next to her.

“Sit, Andrea. You’re just in time to see Luciano hit his first home run.”

Andrea grinned. “You’re sounding awfully confident.” He leaned across her and shook Angelo’s hand before turning to Sophia. “So what did you want my help with?”

Angelo shot her a confused look. “What’s he talking about? Did I forget something?”

“No,” Sophia hastened to assure him. “I called Andrea this morning and asked him to help me with something after the game.”

“What exactly?” Angelo asked. “I don’t like not knowing what’s what here.”

She barely recognized the terse voice as her brother’s. She was saved from having to answer by the announcer asking the crowd to stand for the national anthem.

“I know we need to catch up,” she said once they were seated again. A better brother she couldn’t have asked for; she never forgot that for a moment. Which would make seeing his disappointment when she finally told him the truth all the worse.

“Fine, start with your meeting with Frankie yesterday.”

“Wait until Luciano’s had a turn at bat,” Andrea interjected. He pointed to the line of young ball players. Luciano was next up.

She joined her cousin and brother as they cheered and whistled when Luciano took his place at the plate. The first ball sailed past his bat. A second strike followed. Sophia bit her lip as the pitcher drew his arm back for the last throw. Luciano swung his bat at just the right moment, the sound of his wooden bat striking the ball elicited wild cheers from the stands.