Raisin the Dead (20 page)

My scalp prickled all over. “No, it's not. Jordan Corsino is Sean Corsino's deceased wife. Felicia is her identical twin.”

The nurse looked dubious. I'm sure she wondered if she'd been dropped into some crazy reality show. I could definitely relate.

“Oh my gosh. Hold on a minute.” She picked up the phone. “Hi, Joe. Did a woman named Jordan Corsino check in downstairs?” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “He's checking. She did? Thank you.” The nurse looked up at me, probably trying to decide if I was telling the truth. “She had an ID that said Jordan Corsino. But you're saying that's not her. You're sure?”

“It is most definitely not her,” Dottie exclaimed. “I am Sean's landlady and this is his girlfriend, Molly Tyler. I'm her landlady, too. That woman is most certainly not Jordan Corsino. Her name is Felicia Adams. She's obviously up to no good.”

“I'm so sorry,” Cathy said. “It won't happen again. I'll give the name Jordan Corsino to the guard as well right now, and tell the other nurses that she isn't to see Sean.”

I took a calming breath. “Thank you. I'm sorry for all the trouble.”

“No trouble. We don't want anyone disturbing our patients.”

“Take it from me, she is definitely out to create a disturbance.” I turned to Dottie. “I want to take another peek at Sean. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I'd like to give him my love. Even if he can't hear me.”

“By the way,” the nurse said. “he's being moved out of ICU later today and being taken off the ventilator. Doctor Tryon is inserting chest tubes since his lungs are still collapsed.”

“Thank you for letting me know.”

We went back into Sean's room. His eyes fluttered open, then closed again. I think he tried to smile. One of his fingers moved on top of the blanket.

“Hey, handsome.” I gently ran my hand through his hair. “I brought Dottie to see you. Are you hanging in there?”

“Hello, Sean,” said Dottie. “The only thing I want is you back home. I have cookies piling up, honey. They aren't going to eat themselves.” She thumbed a tear away.

I leaned in and kissed him. “I'm not liking this silent treatment so much. I'll be back tomorrow, okay? I love you.”

Dottie and I made our way to my car, and after dropping her off at home, I headed over to the library hoping to connect with Jill.

Luck was on my side. Jill was sitting at the reference desk near one of the library's two entrances. I had time to observe her before she saw me. She'd lost a bit of weight since I saw her in front of the bakery. It seemed as if that was months ago, but it wasn't. The sadness at losing Philip had etched itself into her face in the form of lines I hadn't noticed previously.

She smiled a little when she looked up and saw me approaching, which was encouraging. “Hi Molly. How's everything? Your mom told me about your friend's accident. I'm so sorry.”

“Thank you. I'm sorry about Philip's death.”

The smile vanished. “Thank you. I still can't believe it. I keep expecting him to call as he did every day. I expect to see him every night. I miss him.”

Ed's theory that Philip had wanted to break their engagement must have been incorrect. She sounded upset about his death, not about him breaking up with her. I still didn't want to ask. I didn't want to rip open a wound if there was one there. “I'm sure you do. Do you have time to talk for a few minutes? Privately, I mean.”

“Sure. Let's go into the small conference room.”

“Whatever works.”

“I know you want Philip's murderer caught as much as, or more than, the rest of the town,” I said once we sat. “Since Sean is in the hospital, I thought I'd step in and see what I can do to help.”

She leaned towards me, her eyes lighting up. “If anyone can help, it's you. You'll be a heroine again, like you were with Calista's murder.”

I pulled out my notebook and pen. “I'm no heroine, believe me, but thanks for the vote of confidence. Do you mind if I take notes?”

“Not at all. I don't care what you do if it helps catch his killer.” She sniffed.

“My mother told me Philip had received threatening letters and texts. Detective Corsino, Sean, said the texts came from her.”

“I don't understand. Philip didn't have a cell phone, so how did he get texts from her?” she replied. “Why would she do that even if he had a cell phone?”

“It couldn't have actually been my mother. It must have been from someone texting as her, which means someone may want her to take the fall for his murder. But are you sure he didn't have a cell phone?”

“Molly, I never saw Philip with a cell phone.” Her voice trembled. “He never talked about one, and I didn't have a number to a cell phone. Only the number to his landline. I'm sure I'd have known if he'd had one. We were inseparable.”

Was she a little too eager to convince me that she didn't know he had a cell phone? I tucked the thought away for later, and added to my notes. “Do you have any idea who would want the police to think my mom was the killer?”

She fingered the pearl choker on her neck. “No. The thought is absurd.”

“Do you know if Philip got threats from anyone at the Destiny Trust for Historic Preservation or the Oleandra County Preservation Society?”

“He told me that he'd gotten several phone calls from a man threatening to harm him if he gave the library money for the expansion. He assumed it was someone from either one of those organizations.”

“Did he recognize the voice?”

“No, only that it was a male making the calls. God, it's been such a tough time. We were planning our wedding; everything was so great. I planned on spending the rest of my life with him. Now he's gone.”

“I know this has got to be really hard for you.” Okay. Either the engagement hadn't been broken, or else she was in the worst case of denial I'd ever seen. I wondered if she didn't maybe need to see a counselor to help get through this.

“You have no idea.” Her voice broke into my thoughts. She took a deep breath. “So many people were unhappy with him. Not just with him, the whole advisory board. My heart went out to him.”

“But the rest of you weren't threatened by anyone, were you? You didn't get calls or letters, did you?”

“I didn't, no. If any of the others did, I don't know about it. I know your mom was upset because Philip was considering withdrawing his support. Then those two groups were mad because he was supporting it. The man couldn't win. Such a big stink about some frogs. Silly, if you ask me.”

“What about Daniel Bixby? He seems angry about the expansion necessitating the demolition of the Westley House. I did some research on him after he went on a rant during Bread and Batter's anniversary open house. I found scathing comments he made to a few newspapers about the library expansion. And about my mother.”

She looked down at her hands. My eyes followed hers. She wasn't wearing an engagement ring, which I guess made sense now. Except, if my fiancé had been killed, I'd keep the ring on until I fell in love again. I remembered that day outside of the bakery when we ran into each other. She hadn't had one on then, either. That didn't prove there was no engagement, however.

“I'm not surprised,” she replied. “He can be a hothead. He and I dated for a while. It was at least two years ago.”

“What happened? Sorry, Jill, I don't mean to be in your personal business. I'm searching for anything that can clear my mother, and solve Philip's murder.”

“I understand. Daniel is rigid. He believes in rules, and is critical of those who color outside the lines, shall we say. He expects perfection from everyone. I couldn't deal with his expectations. I never measured up; he found me lacking in so many ways. I knew marriage wasn't in the picture for us. I think he's one of those men that are better off single. He's too selfish to have a wife and a family.

“Underneath, he's not a horrible guy. He's loyal as a friend.” She laughed. “As long as you play by the Bixby Rules, as I liked to call them. On the plus side, he loves the library. He loves our town's history. There's no crime in that.”

I digested what she said about Daniel. “Unless his desire to be library director and prevent the library expansion involved malicious threats and murder. He wanted to be director. My mother isn't exactly on his ‘people I'd like to be chummy with' list. Could Daniel have been the one threatening Philip? Would he go as far as murdering him and trying to frame my mother?”

Jill turned gray. “Your mother and Daniel have an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other's way. She knows he's good at what he does. Oh my God. Daniel and murder? I . . . I hate to think he would go that far, but desperation can make people do bad things.”

I switched directions. “My mom mentioned you said you think Philip may have killed himself.”

“He seemed depressed. I still think he may have killed himself, despite the conclusion he was murdered. It made me so irate when Doctor Worniak said Philip wouldn't kill himself. He didn't know Philip the way I did. How could he make such an assertion?”

“Did he tell you he was thinking of killing himself?”

“Once, but I thought I'd talked him out of it. I could tell he was still thinking about it because he was so down. Nothing made him happy. He moped around like he had nothing to live for.”

“Do you know why he was depressed enough to kill himself?”

She let out a vexing sigh. “Something about his investments losing a lot of money. It bothered him. I didn't pester him about it.”

“Did you tell Detective Corsino?”

Her shoulders stiffened and her eyes darted away from mine. “Of course. I got the impression Detective Corsino didn't believe me, which was rather insulting. I didn't appreciate his attitude. I'm sorry, Molly, I know you're involved with him and I am deeply sorry about his accident, but I wished he'd listened a little more seriously to my theory.”

I didn't think for a minute Philip had considered suicide. I took a minute to take notes, making sure she couldn't see what I was writing down. “They didn't find a letter he left, did they?”

“No,” she admitted. “Neither did I. Maybe one will turn up. Then again, people don't always leave notes.”

Her vague mention of him losing investments didn't sound like enough to make the man suicidal, especially in view of both Ed's and Doctor Worniak's comments, but I didn't voice my doubt. Philip most likely didn't stop to write
PAYBACK IS A BITCH, DADDY
on his own bedroom mirror before doing himself in, either. But I couldn't reveal the mirror thing to Jill. She obviously hadn't seen it, or heard about it.

I changed the subject. I didn't want to end our conversation yet. “Were you surprised to find out Serafina Alessi was his great-niece?”

“To put it mildly. I had no idea. Philip was a private man, so I can't be angry with him.”

That hit me as a little odd, given the fact he shared with her that he was considering killing himself. “Did you see any of the anonymous letters he received?”

She shook her head. “He didn't want to show them to me. He didn't want me to be frightened. Naturally, I was, anyway.”

I scanned my notes. “I guess that's it.”

“Who's going to be investigating this now that Detective Corsino is in the hospital? I know you're probably talking to other people besides me, but what about the actual official investigation?”

“Sergeant Jacoby over at Rigby is stepping in. Like he did for Calista's murder.”

“That's a comfort, I suppose. The longer the murder goes unsolved, the longer it will take to solve it. Isn't that what they say?” She got up. “I better get back out there. Let me know if I can answer anything else.”

“Thanks, Jill.” If Philip had broken their engagement, why didn't she mention it? I also thought referring to Philip's murder as “the murder” was strange. My imagination was working overtime; maybe it was no big deal. Even if Philip had broken their engagement, was it any of my business? In the context of investigating murder, I'd say yes, it was.

I got into my car and pulled out my phone. I dialed Sergeant Jacoby's number and waited.

“Hello, Molly. Trespassing on crime scenes again?”

Such a droll man he was. “No. I have a lead you might like to pursue.”

“Should I assume you're talking about the Baldelli case, or have you taken on other cases as well?”

I didn't have time for his hilarity. You'd think he would appreciate my efforts in view of the fact that I hadn't seen any newspaper headlines blaring that Philip Baldelli's murderer had been caught. “No, I haven't taken on other cases. I spoke to Ed McCray recently. He lives in the apartment above the Addair Funeral Home garage.”

“You're about to tell me that somehow this ties into the Baldelli murder?”

“Yes, it might. He heard an interesting conversation between Father Davidson, he's the priest at Our Lady of Perpetual Help here in Destiny, and Philip Baldelli. I think it would merit a visit to the Father. From you, not me. I don't think he'd talk to me.”

“Oh, I don't know. You seem to have an instinct for establishing rapport with people rather quickly. I'm not taking away the part you played in solving Calista's murder, or the fact that you're a brave woman; however, I'd rather you sat this one out. I don't want you getting hurt. Or worse. There's still a killer out there.”

“That's why I'm trying to help. Thank you for the compliment, anyway. I'll be fine. You have other stuff on your plate. Let me at least help. Are you there, Sergeant?”

“Yeah. Had to gulp down a couple of aspirin. Why should I talk to this Davidson guy?”

“He's a priest, not ‘a guy.' Because Ed McCray heard Philip Baldelli tell Father Davidson, and I quote, ‘I don't think I want to go through with it, Father. But if I don't, it'll crush her.' Her being Jill McGinley, his fiancée.” I waited a beat, but all I heard was dead air. “Are you there, Sergeant? Our connection seems to keep getting lost.”

“Yeah. I'm looking for more aspirin.”

I guess that was his way of telling me I was giving him a headache. I continued, hoping he wouldn't overdose. “Will you talk to Father Davidson?”

“Why don't you ask Jill if he broke their engagement? You seem to be on decent terms with her.”

“It's not as if we're best friends. Although we did speak just now, as a matter of fact. She didn't mention it. I didn't feel comfortable asking her. I don't want to her to feel as if I'm grilling her. If it's true, maybe she's embarrassed or hurt. I don't want to plunge the knife in, so to speak, and hurt her all over again. It would be better for you to see what you can find out. You are the police, after all.”

“Duly noted.”

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I said goodbye, hoping that he'd follow up.