J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 06 - Death Gone Awry (11 page)

Bernard wrote furiously before he gazed at Monica. “Do you have anything to add?”

In silence, Monica shook her head. I hid a smirk and wondered what was running through her mind.

The notebook secured in his pocket, Officer Bernard said he’d call if there was anything else he thought I might know, and took his leave. I watched from the front window as he backed out of the driveway and drove away.

“Here’s your cup of tea,” Monica called from the kitchen.

I returned, took the mug she proffered, and slugged the now cool, strong brew down like it was a glass of beer. “Thanks, I appreciate your help. I couldn’t have handled this all alone.”

“Vinnie, you’re brave to live in such an unexpected and dangerous way. I don’t think I could do it. What’s your secret to dealing with all that happens to you?”

Motioning her into the living room, I slouched into Lola’s favorite chair and said, “Truthfully, I have no idea how these things happen to me or how I manage to deal with it all. I just do.”

She shook her head, her face the picture of amazement. I laughed aloud and said, “I might ask how you deal with all that you glean from people, whether you want the information or not. How do you get rid of it all, especially when you learn something about a person that you’d rather not know?”

She shrugged a slight shoulder. “I toss those oddments into the wind and let them float away, sort of like white puffs from dandelions. Keeping a clear mind is of great importance to me. Otherwise I might lose myself to the perils of others.”

I chewed on that answer for some time before it occurred to me that I sort of did the same thing. What I kept from others and discarded as useless information could be tantamount to whatever bombarded Monica’s senses.

“I think I understand, though aren’t you curious about what you let go?”

“Not at all, to bear deep secrets people possess is a heavy burden. A burden I have no way of carrying or any reason to do so. Unlike you, my curiosity ends quickly. I share what I must, but free the rest, especially if what I see is hurtful to others.” She’d gotten a faraway look in her eyes, which caused me to wonder if she tossed all the flotsam away, or if it was neatly locked in a box in her head. Suddenly, she smiled at me and rose from the edge of the sofa where she’d perched.

“If I can be of assistance, once again, just yell, and I’ll be right down.” Her chuckle, like soft bells chiming, sounded sweet.

“Before you go, tell me why you responded to Marcus the way you did earlier. You couldn’t have left faster than if you’d been shot from a cannon.”

“I-I’m not certain what you’re asking. He appeared serious and I wanted to give you two space to discuss whatever he’d come to say.”

I pressed her for a better answer. “I don’t buy that explanation for a moment. You were frightened, left in a hurry, and I’d like to know why.”

“Vinnie, what happens between you and Marcus is no business of mine. I don’t wish to interfere in your matters of the heart, which is what I’d be doing if I said any more.”

I gaped at her, and then remarked, “There is no longer a matter of the heart, as you so nicely put it. We realize our relationship can’t withstand the pressure I bring to it. Marcus put his job first and rightly so. I won’t turn into someone that I can’t be. That’s all there is to it.”

A sad-eyed look came my way and I smiled. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m certain this has been coming for a while now. I just didn’t see it clearly until this past week. Nonni, my grandmother, always says things happen for a reason. Sometimes I think she’s wrong, but not this time.”

“I’m sorry, Vinnie. I can’t say what triggered my reaction to Marcus earlier, mainly because I don’t know. I felt I had to leave you two alone. Can you work out your differences?”

“No, I don’t think so. We might remain friends, though, maybe distant friends,” I said and smiled.

“You’re okay with that idea?” Monica had a doubtful look on her face and again I smiled.

“I think so,” I answered. I thanked her again and watched Monica walk out of the room, closing the kitchen door behind her.

*    *    *

Dinner with my parents was always yummy, interesting, and often volatile. Tonight was no different than most. I’d dressed in jeans, boots, and a heavy boucle sweater over a skin fitting jersey.

Snug in my cold-weather wear, I rushed into the house, followed briefly by a bitter wind that had been blowing since late afternoon.

My father, in his usual spot at the stove, stirred the bubbling pot. I sniffed appreciatively and said, “Ah,
pasta e fagioli
.”

A silent chuckle shook his shoulders as he turned to me and asked, “You brought a good appetite, didn’t you?”

“I certainly did.” My gaze travelled the room. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s upstairs digging out a gift your grandmother knit for you. She forgot to bring it to you this morning.”

Oh my, Nonni was knitting again. Good golly, she never got the size right. She’d knitted slippers for all of us last Christmas, none of which fit anyone in the family. They were too large, too small, or too misshapen. Mostly misshapen. I wondered what this new creation consisted of and smiled as images raced through my mind like a freight train out of control.

“What’s so funny?” Dad asked.

“Remember the slippers?”

He snickered and ladled our meal into a serving tureen. “Slice the bread, Lavinia,” he said with a grin.

The table was set for three and dinner was ready. I waited impatiently for my mother to join us. She came through the living room archway and handed me a neatly folded bundle. I let the piece fall open and lifted it to stare at cables that zigzagged aimlessly from the upper right edge and wandered across to the opposite end. It definitely wasn’t a sweater, but at least it was lovely. I folded the soft knitted piece and set it aside before sliding into a seat at the table.

We indulged in the pasta and beans dinner, a fabulous meal that only my father could seem to make fit for royalty. I dipped my bread, and sucked it down with gusto. Yum.

I looked up and saw the humor sparkle in my father’s eyes. I giggled and said, “Nobody makes this like you do, Dad.”

“Sure, so you say,” he said with a pleased grin. “Your mother tells me you and Marcus aren’t getting along?”

My mother dropped her spoon, stared at me with an eyes-in-the-headlights look, and shook her head slightly. I took her headshake to mean she hadn’t spilled all of my news, just enough to cause my father to wonder aloud.

“We’ve decided to end our romance, Dad. No big deal, honest.”

“I thought you were in love with this guy, Lavinia. How can it be over, just like that?” Dad snapped his fingers and stared at me.

“The issues have been piling up for some time and I failed to see it, is all.” I shrugged, hoping he’d let it go. It’s awful to be wrong so often.

Dad’s eyes were still on me, as he remarked, “Maybe it’ll keep him from coming around and poking his nose into things that don’t concern him. He’s a cop, and you know they can’t be trusted, Lavinia.”

“Has he been around lately asking questions?” I wanted to know.

“He’s been bugging me and your mother about the preacher that Jo’s taken up with. He even asked about Frankie Tomatoes, and in such a way that I almost tossed his ass out the door. I got the impression he thinks Frankie and I are friends from back in the day. Imagine?” My father snickered, at what, I didn’t have a clue, and then he shook his head.

“You and Frankie aren’t buddies or anything, so why would Marcus be fishing for information from you about him?” I asked as my curiosity spiraled dangerously near the edge of no return.

He raised a hand and flicked his fingers as though he was shooing a fly. Then he said, “Ah, he was looking for a connection between Frankie and me. He got nowhere, I can tell ya that.”

My mind raced over what Dad hadn’t said, rather than what he had. Was Marcus sure Frankie and Dad were connected somehow? Most cops don’t ask a question without already knowing the answer. Maybe this was why Marcus was trying to distance himself from me, because it wouldn’t be good for him if our family was a bunch of mobsters. Had he been playing me all this time? Had he hoped to dig deep enough to connect my father to the mob? Anger seethed, but I kept my cool and choked down the remainder of my meal, though I’d lost my appetite.

Aaron’s face popped into my head, and I slammed back against the chair. Had the two of them been working me? Could I see a vacancy in the upstairs apartment anytime soon? If they’d been trying to frame my father, or coerce him in any way, I’d have no mercy on either man. My inner voice kicked in and I sighed.
Stop jumping to conclusions, it’s unhealthy. Talk to them before you get all riled up.

Yeah, shut the hell up, already.
My parents were focused on me. Had I spoken aloud? Hopefully, not. I smiled at both of them and asked for a glass of wine.

My mother poured, we drank, my father cleared the table, and then left us alone while he watched the news. I glared at my mother and whispered, “What did you tell him?”

She whispered back, “Not much, he seemed to know what was going on before I even got home. Odd, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. I suppose you’re both worried about me, but honestly, I feel relieved for some reason.”

I leaned back, grabbed the knitted whatever off the chair, and asked, “What is this?”

“Good question. I thought it was a wrap, but Nonni never said and I didn’t dare ask. Just give her your thanks when you see her next time. She’ll be happy with that, I’m sure.”

My father hollered from the next room, “You got to come see this.”

We scrambled into the living room and stood staring as a newscaster stood outside a hospital talking about Reverend Tim Slaggard’s injuries. He said the man was stabbed twice and suffered blood loss. Which had been all over my kitchen floor, but I clamped my lips together in case the words tumbled forth. At the end of the news clip, a picture of Slaggard came up on the screen. It wasn’t the way I’d seen him earlier, but that of a professional headshot done by a photographer.

One newscaster asked the other, “What condition is Reverend Slaggard in at the moment?” The other newscaster said Tim was being kept overnight for observation and would likely be released in a day or so, providing there were no other issues.

“I guess there’s no indication of how that happened?” I asked my father.

“Not a bit. What you saw is all that was said. I thought you might be interested since Aunt Jo is involved in that church of his,” Dad said.

“Hmm, let’s hope he’ll be fine,” I said and realized it was time to leave. After gathering my Nonni surprise apparel, I rolled out of the driveway, and drove home.

The trip to Scituate was uneventful until I pulled up at the traffic light next to Lola’s Salt & Pepper Deli. A single vehicle, other than Lola’s own, sat in the parking lot. I wouldn’t have been concerned if it hadn’t been Aaron’s Yukon. With a sharp right turn, I parked next to it, and scampered up the stairs into the deli.

Lola rarely remained open this late, so imagine my surprise when I found the door unlocked and the deli empty. I stood still, listened for a moment, and then heard Lola’s voice.

“There’s nothing else to say. I don’t have any idea what’s going on with Vinnie and Marcus. You’ll have to ask her, and does she know you’re back?”

“Not yet. I only arrived this afternoon and ran into Frankie Tomatoes, who told me there was trouble brewing between Vinnie and her cop boyfriend. His words, not mine.”

I stepped closer and then went into the room with a smile pasted to my face. “Hey, you two, what’s going on? I asked brightly, as if I didn’t know.”

“There you are, I was about to call you,” Aaron lied. Rather convincingly, too, I might add.

“When did you get back?”

“Earlier today.” Aaron’s eyes crinkled at the corners with laughter and he asked, “How long were you listening at the door?”

I smirked. “Not long.” I glanced at Lola and asked. “You’re open kind of late, aren’t you?”

She nodded and tossed her apron and cleaning gloves into a basket. “I’d finished up when Aaron strolled in.”

“I see, well glad you’re back Aaron.” I turned to walk away when he said, “Heard that you and Marcus are on the outs. Is it true, or just Frankie Tomatoes’ gossip?”

I stared at Aaron. “True, though, I’m not discussing that with you. Instead, I’d like to know who attacked Tim Slaggard? Was Frankie T involved in that particular assault? Slaggard’s in the hospital and he’s not talking, or that’s what I think is going on.”

“Why not visit him and ask why he’s keeping the incident to himself? The locals must be all over this since it’s the second attempt on his life, Vin.” Aaron’s raised brows and keen look meant he was curious of my concern, I was sure of it.

“People, can we talk about this at Vinnie’s? I’d like to shut down and lock up for the night before anyone else stops in.” Lola looked meaningfully at me and I nodded.

“I’ll meet you two at the house and we’ll have a drink, or whatever,” I said with a grin and walked toward the door, with Aaron not far behind.

I’d hit the key fob to unlock the car door when I heard his steps close to me. I turned.

“Been up to your ears in concerns that are none of yours, am I right?”

“I’ll tell you when we get to the house. Where are you staying tonight? Monica is still living in your apartment.”

“On my sofa, I guess, unless you’d like to share your bed?” Aaron waggled his brows up and down.

I snorted and gave him a wry smile. “Not happening. See you in a bit.” I slid behind the steering wheel and took off.

Chapter 11

The fire blazed and drinks were poured as we lounged in the living room. Aaron’s legs were stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. Lola snuggled into her favorite chair and I curled up on the opposite end of the sofa from Aaron. All was momentarily quiet, until a soft knock sounded on the living room door.

“Come in,” I called. Knowing the front door was locked, the only person apt to be in the front hall was Monica. Though these days, I never knew who’d be standing there. Timidly, she opened the door a crack and peered in.