“So, first, we need more facts,” Tim said. “Facts, like who stood to gain from Chip’s death? Who hated Chip? Who held a grudge against him?”
A memory flashed through Joy’s mind - a memory of Max, texting an unknown person, “I really hate him sometimes”. But Max was her friend. No. She shook her head.
“You’ve got something,” Tim said. “I can see an idea floating around in your head.”
“It’s stupid.” Joy shook her head. “Max is my friend, and Chip was his uncle.”
“Most homicides are committed by those closest to the victim,” Tim said. “You know this already, Joy.”
“I know…I know all the theories. It’s just that, in practice, I don’t want it to be so.” Joy shuddered.
Tim hesitated, turning to look over his shoulder. He dropped his voice as he spoke. “Look, just between us, Chip wasn’t exactly a popular man here in Bent River, was he?”
“What do you mean?” Joy asked.
“He had a reputation with the ladies,” Tim said. “I’d look into that if I were you.”
Joy felt her stomach churn. “You think that’s why my mom…”
“That’s not what I meant at all.” Tim leapt back as if he’d just touched a live wire. “Not her. But others, perhaps? Chip didn’t much care who he…er…had relations with. Perhaps a jealous husband or boyfriend found out and decided to take him out.”
“That’s a possibility.” Joy nodded vigorously. “A mad jealousy. Yes…I can see it. That’s why the killer didn’t care about Chip’s money or valuables. They just wanted him dead. Shooting him once, that’d be bad enough. But six times? The killer was clearly making sure the job got done.”
“A thorough man, our killer.” Tim nodded.
“I wish none of this had happened, Tim. I wish I could just go back to a week ago, when the only thing I was worried about was keeping track of my purse and getting the latest scoop. Now I have a new housemate, Chip is dead and my parents are in jail for his murder.”
“Life barrels forward, whether we want it to or not.” Tim put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I have to go now, but I wish you and your family luck. I hope you get through this intact.”
“So do I.” Joy sighed. “So do I.”
*****
Chapter 10
Whispered Secrets
Joy headed down to her Uncle Pietro’s cafe as soon as she was done talking to Tim. If anyone knew gossip about Chip, it would be Pietro. The cafe had a sign saying “CLOSED” hanging on the door, but Joy ignored it and keyed the password into the electronic lock: 1010. Uncle Pietro’s birthday, October 10th.
She stepped into the dark cafe, inhaling the aroma of coffee that seemed to exude from every corner of it. The light was on in the back, and she assumed that was where her uncle would be. As she stepped toward the kitchen, however, she froze. She could hear voices raised in argument.
“Pietro, this isn’t right,” Aunt Giulia was saying. “You know it isn’t right. Your Babbo would be ashamed.”
“I told you, woman, I don’t want to talk about it!” Joy could imagine it perfectly - the look on Uncle Pietro’s face, the way he would wave his hands as if to physically brush her words away.
“Well, we’re going to talk about it.” Aunt Giulia wasn’t giving up. “James is in jail, Pietro. This is serious business. The town has to know the truth now. We can’t keep hiding it forever.”
“You think my father would want the town to know? You think James wants them all to know? He’d rather just be buried with it,” Pietro said. “No. I asked him and he said we’re to shut up and sit tight. So, as far as I’m concerned, we’re shutting up and sitting tight.”
Joy gasped. Instantly, there was silence from inside the kitchen. After a moment, the cafe’s lights came on, and Pietro and Giulia both emerged. Joy stood frozen by a table, wondering exactly what she’d heard. It was too close to a confession for her comfort.
“Joy.” Pietro looked uneasy as he saw her. “I don’t know what you think you heard, sweetheart—”
“I want an explanation,” Joy said. “What is it? What is my father hiding? What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.” Pietro gave Giulia a sideways look and took a step closer to Joy.
“Why don’t we all sit down and have some coffee? There’s pie leftover from—”
“Uncle Pietro, stop it.” Joy slammed a hand down on the table. “You need to tell me the truth, instead of dancing around it like this. I’m begging you. Please.”
Aunt Giulia’s eyes were wet. She stepped forward and embraced Joy. “Oh, sweetheart. This is so hard on you, I know. But it’s alright. Nothing’s going to happen to your father or mother. We’ll make sure of it.”
Joy wriggled away from her, feeling even more incensed. “If you want to protect my parents, the best way is to tell the truth,” she said. “To Chief Brooks, to the police, to the world. But first of all, to me.”
Uncle Pietro tried to act stern. “Now you listen to your elders, Joy. It’s all going to be—”
Something burst inside Joy. She could predict with eerie accuracy what would happen next. She knew her family all too well. Sometimes, when the winds of stubbornness were blowing through their hearts, no logic in the world would get through to them. She could spend hours here shouting or begging and Uncle Pietro would still say nothing, all because of some honor code of his that she couldn’t begin to understand. Fine, then. If logic didn’t work, perhaps threats would.
“I’m leaving,” Joy said. “And the two of you have twenty-four hours to tell me the truth. Because, if you don’t, well, I’m going to tell everyone that you have a secret and let the town use it’s imagination. Just think about how that’ll affect your reputation.”
“You’re threatening me?” Pietro stared at her, wide-eyed. “You’re blackmailing your own uncle?”
“She’s upset, sweetheart. She doesn’t mean it,” Aunt Giulia said. “You don’t mean it. Do you, dear?”
“Oh, don’t I?” Joy snarled. “I don’t want to do it but I will. If protecting my parents means doing this, then you leave me no other choice.”
“You’re not the only one who loves them,” Aunt Giulia said quietly. “We care, too.”
“Then act like it,” Joy said, turning her back on them. “Twenty-four hours.”
*****
Aurora was standing by the stove when Joy walked in. The smell of frying onions and crushed garlic hit Joy full in the face. A pot of water was bubbling next to a sizzling skillet. Outside, the night sky had drawn it’s blanket over the world, and a drowsy moon had just begun to rise.
Aurora had thrown an apron on over her pastel and gray clothes. Joy gave a wry smile as she saw it. The words “World’s Best Nonno” were embroidered on it in red, along with a clumsy attempt at showing a fork and a knife. Joy had given it to her grandfather when she was fourteen - it had been a project for school that doubled as a birthday present.
In her grandparents’ house, Saturday nights had always been a time for the women to relax and the men to do all the work. Mostly, this would mean having fresh, homemade pizzas. Her Nonno had even built a wood-fired oven in the backyard. She used to love watching her uncles and Nonno laugh as they tossed the dough around. She and her cousins often had contests to determine which one came out the best. They’d had a whole system for judging crusts, with three markers: shape, color and crispiness.
Misjudging her glance, Aurora hastily said. “I found it lying around, I hope you don’t mind that I’m using it.”
Joy could feel a sarcastic rejoinder rising in her. Something mean, something that would properly cut Aurora down to size. It bubbled up and rose to her throat, but she swallowed it down. No. It would be so easy to take out all of her frustrations on this stranger. She’d already done it, after all. But Tim was right - life marched on whether you liked it or not, and it was hardly Aurora’s fault that she wanted to use the inheritance that had been left to her.
Rea
lly, Joy knew that it was her Nonno she was frustrated with. She had so many questions for him - like why he had left half his house to a total stranger. What could he possibly have been thinking?
“I’m glad you’re using it,” Joy said. “Someone should.”
Aurora looked relieved. Joy felt a tinge of guilt as she remembered the last time they’d talked. Aurora had looked so pleased with the room she’d cleaned up and, as for Joy, she’d only felt unhappiness at seeing her Nonno’s room totally changed. An awkward silence hung in the air.
“I’m going to bed. Goodnight,” Joy said finally, turning away.
“Actually, I cooked extra. Would you want to join me?” Aurora asked. “It’d be a favor to me, really, if you helped finish it off.”
“Sure.” Joy shrugged. She pushed a pile of laundry that was sitting on the table onto a chair and began looking around for clean plates. Of course, she couldn’t find any. Grudgingly, she moved to the sink and began washing a couple. They sat down in silence, both unsure what to say.
“Uh…smells good. What is it?” Joy asked.
“Spaghetti Bolognese.” Aurora smiled.
Joy looked down at the limp noodles on her plate and nodded. Well, it certainly resembled Spaghetti Bolognese. It wasn’t bad, exactly. Just not…amazing. Joy ate to be polite. Not that it was Aurora’s fault. Joy had just grown up in a family where food was nearly worshipped, and tastes and textures were discussed with the same passion most people held for their sports teams.
Forks clinked against plates as the two of them ate, silence lengthening and stretching out. Yet, and maybe Joy was imagining it, but the quality of the silence changed. From sitting straight and guarded, Aurora relaxed a little. Joy, for her part, felt a smile play on her lips that wasn’t just politeness.
“Listen, I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier,” Joy said. “I know I’ve been a grouch about all of this. It’s just…I’m really attached to this house. To everything in it. Seeing you change a room that I kind of kept as a shrine…it hurt.”
“I get that.” Aurora nodded. “Change always hurts. Especially when it’s a childhood home.”
“Exactly. You get it.” Joy was relieved. “I’m sure you felt the same way about your childhood home, right?”
“No, actually. I never did,” Aurora said.
“Well, there must be some place you’re fond of, with great memories attached,” Joy said.
Aurora gave her a polite smile. “No. But I understand anyway,” she said.
Curious, Joy asked, “Come on, you really never had that?”
Aurora shrugged. “I was raised by a single mother. We moved around a lot. The longest I stayed in one place was a year and a half, I think.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Joy said.
“Don’t get me wrong, she was a wonderful woman. Honest to a fault, really. More often than not, she’d end up yelling at a boss for cutting a corner or being unfair to other workers or something, and get tossed into the street in the bargain. I guess I…” Aurora bit her tongue. I guess I get it from her, she’d been about to say. “I guess I loved her for it,” she said instead.
“It’s a fine and rare quality,” Joy said. “A woman who speaks the truth and doesn’t care about consequences.”
“Yes, well…it wasn’t always easy.” Aurora smiled. “I promised myself I’d have my own place someday and put down roots. That’s partly the reason I moved here. Bent River seems like the kind of place where you can settle down and flourish.”
Joy snorted. “Oh, I don’t know that any outsider would want to.”
“Well, the point is I understand that it must have been hard to see your grandfather’s room suddenly vanish, in a way,” Aurora said. “But…what do we do? I need to live here, too. We need to figure out a way to let me make changes without upsetting you.”
“Changes? What more changes could you want?” Joy blinked.
Aurora waved a hand around. “I mean…don’t you think some changes are due?”
Joy tried to see the room through Aurora’s eyes. Clutter and mess everywhere. Houseplants that needed watering. Chipping paint. “Well…maybe. It’s just...” Joy shook her head. “First of all, I feel like it’s no use. Even if we do sort things out, the mess will just end up accumulating again. Secondly…all of this stuff is precious to me. All of it is a reminder of some of my best memories.”
“A house isn’t just about memories, you know,” Aurora said. “It’s also about the present and the future. This used to be your grandparents’ house, but it’s yours now. You’re an adult, and the house should reflect who you are, not just who you were. You can’t just keep it like a historical monument when it’s…a living creature.”
“A messy house is the least of my problems right now,” Joy said, getting defensive again. “I’ve got real problems, in case you hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah, I don’t think the house is a problem as much as it’s a symptom of the things that are cluttering your mind,” Aurora said.
“Listen, I liked the silence better. Can we do silence again?” Joy asked. “I don’t need you to barge into my house and psychoanalyze me in the middle of—” She was cut short by the doorbell.
Now who could that be? Aurora wondered. They both sat still for a second, the only sound coming from a clock ticking in the distance somewhere. The doorbell rang again and, almost immediately, a third time.
Joy got up to find out who it was. She opened the door and let out a gasp.
*****
Chapter 11
The War Council
A little cheer started in Joy’s head as the door swung open. She gave a gasp of disbelief. Her front yard was full of cars and people. Right at the head, nearest the door, were her cousin, Brady, and her parents. Behind them was her extended family.
“Mom! Dad!” Overcome, Joy grabbed them both in a tight hug. “You’re out? You made it out? Why didn’t you call me?”
“We thought we’d rather surprise you.” Her father grinned. He held up a six pack of beer and waved everyone else inside. Joy noticed only now that her three aunts and at least four of her cousins were all clutching casserole dishes or pizzas. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Uncle Pietro and Aunt Giulia in the back, trying their hardest not to be noticed.
Then there was no time to think - the entire mob had made it’s way inside, chattering and laughing and talking. It was a strange mood that infected her family that night, as though they were jubilant over winning a battle, and wary of the war ahead.
Aurora looked as though she’d gotten swept away by a tsunami. She was caught in a crossfire of introductions and unsure who to even look at as people spoke all at once. Joy weaved and ducked through the crowd whispering “Twenty-four hours” into Uncle Pietro’s ear as she passed by him. He looked startled, but resigned.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered back to her. “I promise we’ll tell you tomorrow. Just …let’s be normal today, please. We all need it.”
Joy couldn’t agree more. Whatever it was that Uncle Pietro and Aunt Giulia were hiding, she could wait a little while longer. Tonight was about celebrating the here and now. Forgetting them, Joy moved to the living room with her parents, one hand slung around each set of shoulders. Alternately, she kissed them each on the cheek.
“So it’s alright? Chief Brooks has let you go?”
“For now.” Brady smiled, skipping ahead of them and taking possession of a threadbare armchair.
“Tell me everything.” Joy was beaming.
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