“There’s pistachios in that one?” I asked.
Christina smiled. “There’s a whole bunch of things! Pistachios, pine nuts, and cashews.”
“OK, dibs!” I said. I took a bite of the borma and it oozed with flavor. Flaky and crunchy at once. Sweet and savory at the same time. In a word, incredible. “Incredible!” I said aloud. “How do you make these?”
“Uh, let me think.... For those, we soak the entire cylinder in clarified butter then bake it for an hour at medium temperature. After that, we drain off the leftover butter. Then we add heavy sugar syrup and let it cool for a whole day. Then we put the little cylinders on a porous surface for another ten hours to let the leftover sugar syrup drain off. That’s how you make borma. I learned that on my second day!” Christina smiled, proud.
Liz spoke, careful to use her Mrs. Spiros accent. “Great, nice, wonderful, Christina. So sorry. Just about to start a business meeting. No need to come back unless we call you. Thank you so much.”
“Oh sorry,” the waitress said.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s my fault. My aunt and I are bakers but we’ve never made anything like this. It’s delicious.”
“I know. Sometimes I sneak-eat them on my shift,” Christina said. “Don’t tell Nikolai!”
“OK, bye now,” Liz said.
The waitress gave a polite nod and bustled away.
“Chelsea.” Liz glared at me, her tone incredulous. “You’re eating an egg and cheese. You find a laminated note in your eggs. It leads you to a mysterious address. To a woman who has disguised herself as an older Greek matriarch to provide essential information regarding your murder investigation. And you spend three minutes talking about borma?”
I winced. “That borma was so good though! How’d you get a note in my eggs, anyway?”
“Never you mind,” Liz said. “You want my info or not?”
Miss May sighed. “Yes. We want your information. What have you got?”
“You two ready for this?” Liz asked.
Teeny held her finger in the air. “There’s three of us. Hello?”
“The three of you are working on those murders? As sleuths? Together?” Liz raised an eyebrow. “I thought Teeny was here for comedic relief.”
“Teeny’s a sleuth, just like me and Chelsea,” said Miss May.
“OK, whatever,” Liz Said. “So I’m sure you three know all about Willow Alfonsi. Buster’s graffiti accomplice. Ex-lover. All that?”
“We spoke to Willow,” Miss May said. “She seemed innocent.”
“I’m sure she did. “ Liz raised her eyebrows. “But do you know about her dad, Aldo?”
I took another bite of borma to conceal my dismay. Liz often came through with great information. But at that moment, she seemed to be going down a path we’d already trodden. We were all over the Aldo-Buster connection.
“Of course they knew about the dad,” Teeny said. “I thought you had something good.”
Miss May put a hand on Teeny’s arm, then turned to Liz. “Yes we know about Aldo Alfonsi. He hated Buster. But we can’t find any real motive for him to have killed Granny Smith.”
Liz chuckled. “Unless I know something you don’t know.”
I shot a glance over at Miss May. Looked back to Liz. “About Aldo Alfonsi?”
“He’s running for mayor next year.” Liz sat back, smug and satisfied. “He’s Linda Delgado’s only current opponent.”
“That’s odd,” Miss May said. “No one even knows who he is.”
Liz shrugged. “Aldo’s candidacy is an open secret in the journalist community.”
Teeny scoffed. “The journalist community in Pine Grove is one person. You.”
Liz shrugged. “Yes. He told me the secret. Wanted me to ‘leak’ a positive story about his barber shop’s integrity.”
Miss May scratched her head. “I’m not sure I understand why this is important information. It’s interesting, but...”
“I’m getting there.” Liz crunched down on a big bite of baklava. “Granny Smith and Aldo had a contentious relationship.”
I nodded. “She reported his daughter for graffiti.”
“Oh no. It was way more than that,” Liz said. “Granny Smith has hated Aldo Alfonsi ever since Willow and Buster started hanging out. Dolores believed Buster was too good for Willow.”
“That woman was out of her gourd,” Teeny said.
“Be that as it may. Granny Smith didn’t like the Willow-Buster relationship. So she gathered dirt on the entire Alfonsi family. When she got wind that Aldo planned a run for mayor, her dirt turned into pay-dirt.”
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “Was Granny Smith about to expose Aldo for something nefarious when someone murdered her?”
Liz nodded. “Yes. She wanted to kill his bid for mayor. So he killed her.”
Miss May shook her head in disbelief. “What was the dirt?”
Liz sipped her coffee and place it on the table. “Drugs. Aldo was buying and selling drugs online. Did it all in total anonymity. Used the Darknet. You all know what that is?”
Teeny frowned. “No, but it sounds evil.”
“It’s not always evil,” I said. “But it’s like an invisibility cloak for the Internet.”
“Simplistic analogy, but sure,” Liz said. “Police can’t detect any activity on the Darknet. So the things people do aren’t always the most honest or upstanding.”
“How in the name of cats and dogs did old Granny Smith find out that Aldo Alfonsi was trading drugs on this mysterious invisible Internet?” Teeny asked.
“Willow was helping Aldo pull it off. Buster found out and told Granny Smith all about it.” Liz took another bite. “This baklava is the best, by the way, aren’t you glad I brought you here?”
“The baklava is wonderful,” Miss May said. “But I’m still processing this. What’s the theory here?”
“The theory is that Aldo Alfonsi killed Granny Smith because she knew about Aldo’s secret drug trade,” I said. “Then Aldo killed Buster because he was the only other person who knew.”
Liz nodded. ”That’s right.”
“Are you sure Aldo didn’t killed Buster because he didn’t want Buster harassing Willow?”
Liz shrugged. “I’m sure that was an added bonus. But I do not believe it was primary motivation.”
I sighed and looked over at Miss May. She nodded and I knew from a look in her eyes...
We had to find Aldo Alfonsi. And fast.
36
Throwing Barbs
Aldo’s barbershop was just outside the center of town, next to Pine Grove’s biggest grocery store. Although housed in a strip mall, the shop had old world charm bursting from its windows. An old-fashioned barber pole beckoned customers inside. A blinking neon sign declared the shop was “OPEN.” And there was even a welcome mat that said, “Cut your hair, ugly!” in Italian.
The place only cut men’s hair so neither Miss May nor I had ever been inside. But another sign out front boasted ten-dollar haircuts, and I reconsidered my stance on adhering to gender norms. Jennifer Paul, my high school nemesis, owned the only other salon in town. Her haircuts cost almost thirty dollars. Plus, Jennifer’s business had been on hiatus ever since her involvement in one of our previous investigations. Ladies’ hair all over town had suffered.
I’d considered returning to the city for an expensive cut, but that would’ve run me over a hundred dollars. I blushed at the idea that it had ever seemed normal to spend the cost of a dozen breakfasts at Grandma’s on a single haircut. I wasn’t a fancy poodle. My hair didn’t need that kind of expensive grooming.
Teeny dropped us off in front of the Aldo’s Barbershop, then sped away to help with the dinner rush at her restaurant. But once Miss May and I climbed out of the car, neither of us moved.
“We’re here,” I said. “Now what? Are we going to walk in there and ask for a men’s haircut?”
Miss May shrugged. “Maybe we should.”
“I could say I love a good bargain,” I suggested. “Or that I want a buzzcut? Or we can come out with it... say we heard him yelling at Buster that day at the house.”
“If Aldo is the killer that’s a dangerous move.”
“Should we try to buy drugs?” I said.
“That would be even more dangerous,” Miss May said. “But I think I have an idea. Follow my lead.”
“I hate when you say that.”
“Yet you always follow.” Miss May smirked and hopped out of the car.
A door chimed as we entered Aldo’s barbershop. There was one barber chair, a ten-foot Italian flag on the wall, and approximately 394,000 bottles of gel on the counter.
A guy in his twenties cut an old man’s hair at the barber chair. The twenty-something guy was cute. He had a thin beard, he wore a nice dress shirt, and he had an old-fashioned gelled-back haircut he pulled off well.
The barber glanced over as we entered. “Hey. Can I help you two?”
The old Italian man in the chair held up his hands, impatient. He said something in Italian.
The young barber replied in Italian.
The old customer rolled his eyes.
The barber put down his scissors, wiped his hands on his apron and approached us.
“Hi!” Miss May said as she looked around with a smile. “Is Aldo in?”
The young barber narrowed his eyes. “Why do you want to talk to Aldo?”
“Ah, let me introduce myself,” Miss May said. “I’m the proprietor of the Thomas Family Fruit and Fir Farm, up on Whitehill. My niece and I are starting a small business development committee here in Pine Grove. We realized we had never met the famous local barber, so here we are. I’m Mabel Thomas, and this is my niece, Chelsea. Say hi, Chelsea.”
“Hi.”
“We were thinking Aldo might like to get involved with the community,” Miss May said.
The old customer snapped at the barber, once again in Italian. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but the customer did not seem happy. The young barber replied in English. “One minute. Business development committee.”
The old man crossed his arms and turned back to the mirror.
Miss May kept her smile strong. “So. Is Aldo here?”
The barber shook his head. “No. He’s out running errands. Should be back later today. Maybe tomorrow, I’m not sure. He owns the place but he makes me do all the work.”
“I know how that goes,” I said.
Miss May elbowed me. “Good one, Chelsea.” She turned back to the young barber. “We work together, too. Some days are wonderful. Some days she says things like that.”
The barber didn’t have the patience for our little routine. “That’s great. Terrific. Do you two have a card you want to leave? I need to finish cutting this guy’s hair.”
“Before we go, have a couple more questions,” Miss May said.
The old man barked in Italian. The kid barked something back without looking away from me or Miss May. “Go ahead. Ask your questions.”
“Were you open this past Sunday morning?” Miss May asked.
The kid nodded. “Yeah. We’re open every morning at six, every night until nine. Why are we open so long? Aldo like to find reasons to make my girlfriend mad at me.”
“Six AM is early for hair,” Miss May said. “Who was here on Sunday? You? Aldo? Both of you?”
“I’m sorry. What’s the point of these questions?”
Miss May nodded. “We’re gathering information for the small business committee. Hours of operation. Employee information. Stuff like that.”
The old man stood and removed his haircut bib, muttering to himself.
The young barber hurried over to the impatient customer and guided the old man back into the seat. They argued for ten seconds in Italian, then the barber turned back to us.
“I need to get back to this. Can you come back another day? Aldo is almost always around.”
Miss May nodded. “OK. Thank you.”
We exited out to the parking lot and walked toward Grandma’s to debrief Teeny on our experience.
“Is it just me, or was that guy cutting hair kind of cute?” I asked.
“He was cute,” Miss May said. “So was the old guy. But I doubt you noticed.”
I laughed. “I did not. Not quite my type. Was he...yours?”
“Strong jaw. Broad shoulders. Distinguished gray hair. And he had a classic look. From another era. Like one of those guys who built the Empire State building and sat out on the crane, eating lunch.”
“That’s a specific image, guy on the crane.”
“It’s a classic photo,” Miss May said. ”But that customer was so rude. I could never be attracted to that.”
“For real. He was terrible.”
Miss May stopped walking without warning. She turned back and looked at the barbershop with narrowed eyes. “He was almost too rude, wasn’t he?”
I nodded. “We haven’t had a customer that bad in a while. Maybe since the Turtles.”
“He was worse than they were.” Miss May rubbed her chin. “Demanding. Angry. Interrupting. It was almost like... he owned the place.” Miss May looked back at me.
I gasped. “That was Aldo Alfonsi!”
We spun around and hurried back to the barbershop. Me, once again in chubby puppy mode. Miss May like an injured big old dog with mild hip dysplasia. She hobbled. I flopped. Both of us moved as fast as we could. But when we got back to the barbershop the door was locked.
I looked through the window. The barber chair spun like the earth on its axis. A haircutting bib flapped in the wind. The backdoor was wide open.
“They escaped!” I yelled. “After them!”
We turned back toward the parking lot. The young barber was pushing the old customer in a wheelchair across the lot, toward a vintage Cadillac.
I pointed. “There! That’s him!”
Miss May and I jumped off the curb and hurried toward them.
“Hey,” Miss May called out to the pair. “Stop wheeling that man! We need to talk to him.”
The two men made it to the Cadillac, but the young barber fumbled with the keys. We were only a few steps behind. So we caught up before either of them had entered the car.
Miss May panted, out of breath. “Are you... Aldo... Alfonsi?”
The man mumbled in Italian. Something like, “I don’t speak English.”
“Cut the nonsense,” Miss May said, “I know you’re going to run for mayor.”
The old man shot a look at the young barber. The young barber scoffed. “I didn’t tell anyone.”
“So,” Miss May said. “It’s true. You are Aldo Alfonsi.”
The man mumbled in Italian.
“We you stop with the act?” Miss May said. “I know you speak English. Now talk to me or I’ll call the police.”
The old man hung his head. When he looked up, he held his shoulders further back and his whole body appeared more relaxed.
“OK. You have found me. I am Aldo Alfonsi.” Alfonsi spoke in a cool and measured tone with a slight Italian accent. He sounded almost robotic. “Why are you here?”
“We know about the Darknet,” Miss May said. Whoa! Way to dive right in.
“It’s not what you think,” said Aldo. “I did not buy drugs. I bought ink from a very rare squid. Some people use this ink as a hallucinogenic drug. I desired, however, to use the ink in my cooking.”
“Aldo is an incredible cook,” said the young barber.
“Please don’t speak, Joey.” Aldo glared at the young barber, then turned back to Miss May. “Tragic irony. The squid ink never arrived. But look how much trouble it’s caused.”
“So it’s true,” I said. “Buster and Granny Smith knew about the Darknet. And they wanted to expose you?”
Aldo nodded. “That’s correct. But I did not kill that woman nor did I kill her son. I was in my shop Sunday morning. I’m not sure why Joey didn’t tell you that a few moments ago.”
&nbs
p; “I thought—” Joey started.
“Enough, Joey.”
Joey stepped back. He shook his head and clucked his tongue.
“Were you in the shop alone Sunday or was Joey working with you?” Miss May asked.
“Ah, I see,” Aldo said. “It’s an alibi you’re after. I can’t provide you with anything you’d consider ‘tight as air.’ I was alone in the store. Joey. Tell the nice ladies where you were.”
Joey mumbled something.
“Speak up, Joey.”
Joey looked up. “I was on a date with my girl.”
Aldo rolled his eyes. “And what were you doing?”
“We were playing laser tag. It was a daytime special.”
Aldo sighed. “I told him to take her to a nice restaurant for brunch. No grown woman wants to play ‘tag’ on her Sunday Funday.”
“She had a great time. We got lots of tokens at the arcade after. I won her a sticker and two tootsie rolls.”
Miss May and I exchanged a look. I don’t think either of us expected to hear two grown men argue about the arcade that day. Aldo caught our glance.
“I suppose me and Joey arguing about the arcade doesn’t make me seem more innocent, does it?”
“I wasn’t paying any attention to that,” Miss May said. “I was thinking about how angry you’ve been with Buster. You seem so calm now, but we heard you screaming at him outside his house earlier this week.”
“Ah yes. My temper gets the better of me. Not a proud moment for any father,” Aldo said. “But I had been arguing with Willow. And I was not ‘cooled down’ when I showed up looking for Buster.”
“You don’t get along with Willow?” I asked.
Aldo chuckled and shook his head. “We are too alike. It makes our differences worse.”
“Ah, yes. She’s an artist like you,” Miss May said.
Aldo scoffed. “Vandalism is not art. And neither is cutting hair!”
“Her work is good,” I said. “Not like Buster’s. His was... bad.”
“I don’t know what she saw in that boy,” Aldo seethed. “But she told me she loved him. She told me she couldn’t wait for him to propose. Half of me thinks she said those things to irk me. The other half is too scared to consider the alternative.”
Granny Smith Is Dead Page 17