by J R Pearson
"He was a mess about it," Aunt Kendra said.
"What was the relationship between Brian and Gordy?" Josie wondered.
"They were never close," her aunt replied. "It’s a shame. Family is supposed to stick together."
"I heard Brian arrived in town this morning.” Dolly said.
The same morning his brother was murdered?
"To think he arrived for work relations, and now has to arrange a funeral."
Josie soon departed, wanting to grab dinner and turn in early.
"If you run into Jennie,by chance,” her aunt said, “remind her about Sunday night dinner. You’re welcomed to come too, honey." Josie promised to pass the reminder along to her cousin and managed to wrangle some excuse for not being able to attend. She knew full well what Sunday night dinners entailed.
She’d barely survived years of under-the-table kicking between her and her four brothers, and wrestling to get to the last chicken thigh. The arguing and high voice, ear-splitting conversations, everyone trying to get a word in. The disappointed looks from her parents when a teacher had called, saying she was failing a class. Now those disappointed looks came from her mother, because she wasn’t married with five kids, with the stretch marks to prove it.
The food was always good.
In front of her computer again, Josie did a search on Healthy Beginnings Senior Living Home and included Martha's name. Molly's suspicions of Martha Fitzgerald's death had rubbed off on her. Though she needed to remember they were just suspicions.
Her results brought up the notice of Martha’s death and a link to West Emily's online obituary page.
Martha Fitzgerald, age 80.
Martha became the first woman to open her own business in West Emily, the four-star hotel, Fitz and Glitz.
She leaves behind her two beloved sons, Gordy and Brian Fitzgerald.
In an interview last year, Martha publicly named Gordy Fitzgerald to be the hotel's new sole owner when the time comes of her passing.
Josie rubbed her eyes and re-read the short article a few more times. Four-star hotel? Gordy the humble sandwich maker, owning an expensive hotel in the city?
She chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought. Her mind suddenly took a twisted turn.
CHAPTER THREE
"What If," she turned to Petey, "Healthy Beginnings had a hand in Martha's death, and Gordy found out? And his murder was their way to shut him up?" Petey barked, then diverted his attention to a ladybug crawling across the rug.
“Thanks for your input.” She pushed her computer aside and got up to pour herself a glass of wine
"Tony was right," she mumbled. Like a dog with a bone, he had said. Josie turned to Petey.
Or in this case, a dog with a lady bug.
"Petey! Spit it out right now!" Knowing the chastising tone in her voice, Petey folded his ears down and licked the carpet, transporting the ladybug from his tongue to the floor in a wad of drool. Josie crouched down and saw it was too late. The little bug's body was mangled.
"Jeez, Petey. That was mean."
She retrieved her phone from her purse when it vibrated.
"Hello?"
"You. Me. An extra-large cheese pizza at Enzo's, then a viewing of the new horror flick," Brad said into her ear.
"Let's do it. But can we eat at Pepe's instead?" Pepe's Pizza Parlor offered cheese-stuffed crust, and their Parmesan garlic breadsticks were better than Enzo's.
"Pepe's? That’s like thirty minutes away."
"I know. But we used to eat there all the time, remember? Wouldn’t it be nice to go back?" Pepe's was like a second home for her and Brad during high school. It was located on the outskirts of JewelCove. While other teens their age used to loiter in the local joints, Brad and Josie had wanted to be far from those who bugged them. True, Pepe's had better breadsticks, but the restaurant was also near Healthy Beginnings.
Hmm, what were the odds of that?
"Come on, please? We're wasting precious time. We could be elbow-deep in marinara sauce by now." She crossed her fingers. She hoped he'd agree because she wanted to drive by the senior living home. She could do it another time by herself, though going now with Brad benefited her—in case she needed backup. Not that she was expecting anything to happen. This was just killing two birds with one breadstick.
Satisfy her morbidly curious self.
And, hello? Pepe's basil-laced tomato-sauce pizza. That's it. No other explanation needed.
"All right. I'll be waiting outside," he said. She hung up with Brad, grabbed her car keys, and called for Petey.
"Petey?" She frowned when he came trotting from the direction of her bedroom. She could have sworn he was just in the living room with her. Petey gave her a lopsided grin and wagged his nubby tail. He looked way too giddy for her liking. Josie glanced at the drool-stained carpet and sure enough, the ladybug was missing.
"Sick."
***
Josie had just started her car when her phone buzzed again. The incoming call was from her second older brother Richie.
"Hey Rich, how—"
"I need your help,” he whispered, sounding scared.
"Why are you whispering?" Josie asked.
"I’m in a closet and I don’t want to be heard." In the background she could hear people yelling.
"Where are you?"
"At Ma and Pop's house."
That explained his frightened tone.
"You've got to do something," he said.
"How? What's going on?" The volume of shouting increased.
"I met this woman named Stacey at my crab shack. And I invited her to dinner." Josie rolled her eyes, not believing what she was hearing. Only Richie would think “I've got crabs” was an appropriate pickup line to use on women who came into his seafood restaurant, located off the boardwalk in JewelCove. But then again, Richie used the line on women who thought starfish only came out of the ocean during the night, or believed a school of fish served the same educational purposes as humans did.
That was his first mistake. The second was thinking it was okay to bring a woman, any woman to their parent's house.
"Rich, I still don’t get why you need my help," Josie said. More yelling and now loud banging made her move the phone away from her ear. Even though the phone was inches away, her mom's voice was loud and clear.
"DON’T THINK FOR ONE SECOND I'M GOING TO LET YOU MARRY MY SON! YOU CAN'T EVEN BOIL WATER TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!"
"What is she talking about?" Josie asked.
"Stacey offered to help Ma cook the pasta for the mushroom rigatoni bake—"
"Spicy sausage included?"
"Duh. After thirty minutes, the pasta still wasn't done." Thirty minutes?
"What was wrong?"
"Apparently the stove wasn't on. And to make matters worse, Stacey had checked the pasta several times before Ma finally saw it wasn’t cooking—" Richie was interrupted by a high-pitched voice which Josie assumed was Stacey’s.
"WHO SAYS I EVEN WANT TO MARRY YOUR SON? I SURE AS HELL DONT WANT TO BE A PART OF THIS WACK JOB FAMILY!"
"WELL, THAT'S A RELIEF!" their mom shouted back. Josie pictured her mom's left hand placed on her ample hip, the right wielding a wooden spoon, and her dad at the table, stuffing buttered rolls into his mouth while his eyes jumped back and forth between the screaming women like components at a tennis match. "THE ONLY WAY A WOMAN CAN BEAR THE RIZZO NAME IS IF SHE KNOWS HOW TO COOK!"
"You brought a woman who can’t cook to our mother?" Josie smacked her forehead. What was wrong with Richie?
"I didn't know! I just met her like five hours ago!"
"Five hours ago? Rich, you own your own restaurant. The subject of cooking hadn't come up at all?"
"We weren't exactly talkative—"
"What do you mean not talkative? What were you doing?" she asked.
"Well...um...we—"
"Never mind. I don't wanna know." Josie had a vague, thankfully not detailed, idea as to what her brother and his new girlfri
end were doing.
"Richie, I can’t help you. You got yourself into this mess."
"Josie! Please! It’s only a matter of time before they find me!"
"RICHIE DAVEY RIZZO!" their mother pounded on the closet door. "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" Josie winced, grateful she was twenty-five miles away.
"Uh, Rich, I gotta go."
"No, wait! Don't hang up, NO—"
Josie clicked the “End” button. From the backseat, Petey lowered his head and whined. Josie met his eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Don't worry." She started the car and pulled out of her apartment's parking lot. "He'll be fine." Though she wouldn’t be surprised if she found out the next morning her mom had torn Richie a new one, and all that was left of him was a grease smudge that smelled of Old Bay seasoning and garlic butter.
***
Pepe's outdoor deck area was pet-friendly. Petey lay at Josie's feet while she and Brad dipped saucy, finger-staining buffalo chicken into blue cheese dressing. Nothing had changed in the years of their absence of dining in the cozy bricked restaurant. Except Pepe's son, Lenny, whose kids were now old enough to be a part of the family business. Renovation could modernize the restaurant and give it a chic or hip look. Though decade-old shoe and chair scuff marks and garlic-scented wallpaper suited the homey place just fine. Pepe's wooden deck looked out onto a small lake. Nothing like Greenville's lake.
On the other side of the lake, a high-end shopping outlet illuminated the darkened sky. The stores’ white fluorescent lights looked fake and harsh compared to Pepe's strings of exposed aged light bulbs hanging from the wooden-paneled cabana.
"One large pepperoni-cheese pizza and a side of Parm sticks." Lenny's seventeen-year-old, LJ, set the glistening golden-crusted pie in front of her and Brad, who cracked his knuckles like a fighter ready to dive into the ring.
The pepperoni embedded in the bubbling pool of gooey cheese was not circular sliced, but bite-sized cubes. Flecks of oregano and minced basil dotted the pie. Pepper, garlic, melted Parmesan,and oiled butter breadsticks—still hot—were placed in a basket, paired with chunky herb marinara. Josie took out a brand-new digital camera and took a snap of the large platter for her blog. Then a snap of Brad pulling a slice away from the whole. Its long strands of cheese looked like pulled thread from a quilted blanket after a cat attacked it. Then a snap of Petey nibbling on a pepperoni cube.
A few days ago, Josie had bought the new camera. It was hot pink and thinner than her other small camera and it had a wristlet attached. The point was to have this camera in her purse at all times.
"I'm not stupid," Brad said, narrowing his eyes.
"Of course not." Josie dunked a breadstick in sauce. "Did someone say you were?"
"No. But you must think I am." Brad cocked his head. "Don’t get me wrong, I love Pepe's and hoped we would return one day. But I can’t help but feel there's another reason we're miles away from town."
"What makes you think that?"
"I can see it on your face."
Josie threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. Was she that easy to read? "First Tony. Now you." She shoved a hunk of pizza into her mouth and swallowed. "Is there something wrong with my face?"
"No, sweetie. It’s beautiful." Brad smiled his pearly whites. "You just suck at hiding stuff. Now, spill."
She did.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Okay, I get Martha's death may have been assisted." Brad wrinkled his forehead. "Those old geezers dropping like a stack of cards at Healthy Beginnings isn’t anything new. But what does her death have to do with Gordy's?"
"Possibly nothing." Josie shrugged and pulled apart a breadstick. “I’m just assuming his mother's death involved foul play on the part of Healthy Beginnings, and Gordy knew about it and was killed to shut him up."
“That's pretty far down the rabbit hole," Brad commented.
"Though not too farfetched. I mean, why else was Gordy murdered?" she wondered.
"Maybe an angry soccer mom who ordered a bunch of turkey cold cuts for her son's team and got bologna instead. I hate bologna." He grimaced. "But then again, she wouldn't have stabbed him but run him over with her minivan and thrown orange peels at his body." Josie grinned at her best friend.
"I'll save that angle for later. For now, I would like to know whether or not Healthy Beginnings is connected. It’s—" She checked the clock on her phone."—a quarter past eight. Maybe someone at the front desk is still up and will have the answers to my questions."
"What makes you think they're even gonna acknowledge you? Let alone answer your questions?" Brad cocked an eyebrow.
"They have no choice. They’re up against my amazing charm and my beautiful face." She pointed her index finger at it. "You said so yourself,"
"That I did." Brad laughed and handed her a napkin. "No one will be able to resist the tomato sauce on your nose."
***
Josie's car drove smoothly on the paved road, then vibrated when the road became cracked and disjointed as they got closer to a giant iron gate. Beyond it, the dark massive building. It was like a scene out of a scary movie. The dozen or so windows were pitch-black. Naked trees surrounded the senior home, its branches like broken fingers frozen in an attempt to grasp something that wasn’t there. Cloudy mist floated along the grounds. The moon loomed big and bright.
"Huh, a full moon," Brad said. “That’s not creepy at all."
Yep. This place was definitely paradise.
Forget going to see the new horror movie. She and Brad were already in it. All that was needed was a sudden bolt of lightning and loud claps of thunder. Instead, a flock of black birds surged past, their loud screeches making her and Brad jump in their seats.
"Josie, I love you dearly. I really do. So please don’t take this wrong way. This is the most ridiculously stupid idea you've ever come up with. Can we please get the hell out of here?" Petey barked as if agreeing with Brad.
Boom! Boom! A fist connected hard against Josie’s window.
“WHO’S IN THERE?” a rough voice demanded. She and Brad let out screams, Brad an octave higher. Petey barked furiously. A scruffy older man pressed his wrinkled, menacing face into the window, his left bloodshot eye taking in the interior of Josie’s car. The right eye was cloudy and looked artificial.
“This here is private property!” he shouted, his breath fogging the glass. “Leave NOW!”
“You heard the man, go! GO!” Brad slapped the dashboard.
Josie floored it, leaving broken chips of pavement in her wake. This was the end result of taking Molly—a woman who spent too much time inhaling hair dye—seriously.
***
Back in Greenville, Josie dropped Petey off at her apartment. He ignored the fresh bowl of water she poured, and collapsed on his fluffy bed in a pepperoni-induced coma. She and Brad continued on to the theatre, but ditched the new horror film and settled on a romantic comedy about a woman name Rebecca who goes on many disastrous dates while throughout the hour and half movie endures her mother's inappropriate behavior. Josie scoffed at the not-so-original plot.
After the credits rolled, they headed back to Josie's car. Inside, Brad asked, "Remember when Rebecca went by her dead grandmother's house and saw the newlyweds moving in?"
"What about it?"
"It made me think. When I die, what lucky person will buy it and move all of their crap into my house?"
"Lovely thoughts," Josie said dryly. Brad stretched his longs legs and gave her a pointed look.
"I swear if they bring one little speck of polyester, I'm going to haunt their asses." Josie wondered about Gordy's house. Would Brian, who was supposedly in town, want to keep it, or sell it? While Brad rehashed a horrible sweaty and embarrassing moment with a polyester shirt in the seventh grade, Josie texted Jennie, asking if she knew Gordy's home address. A response soon returned.
"Buckle up," she told Brad. "We're going on another field trip."
He groaned.
Gordy lived in a sma
ll one-level home. Josie ignored the flutters in her stomach when she had passed the cul-de-sac where Tony currently lived in his uncle's home.
Friday could not get here soon enough.
Neighboring houses were dark and had empty driveways. No one was around to question why they were walking towards a dead man's house. If they were caught, the answer being they were simply paying their respects, since Gordy's porch was turned into a makeshift memorial, covered in flowers, small lit candles, and “We miss you” notes. On the top step, a hot dog loaded with mustard sat in a cardboard tray that Josie recognized from In The Box bistro.
This one's on the house.
-Greta
Josie thought it was beautiful. She and Brad were careful to not step on any of it.
"Do you think Brian is staying here while he's in town?" she asked Brad, who peeked through the front window.
"Doubt it. He's most likely staying at the Inn." He turned to her. "What business does he do?"
"I don’t know." She hadn't thought to ask the Anderson sisters or her aunt. "All I know is that he works and lives in West Emily." After looking into more windows and commenting how Gordy would have been a superb party host if he had hired an interior design to fix up his living room, the delayed realization of snooping in the backyard of a dead man dawned on Josie. A wave of chills cascaded down her spine.
What was she doing? Her mom hadn’t raised her to become a creep. She grabbed Brad's hand and beelined towards the front of the house. Brad came to a halt when his phone dinged.
"Yes!" He fist-pumped the air. "Mark is finally free to have drinks." Mark was Brad's boyfriend, and who worked as a personal coffee runner to up-and-coming actress, Scarlett Bloomfield. At the beginning of his and Brad's relationship, it was unclear to Josie whether her best friend was just using Mark to somehow uplift his nonexistent acting career. Though now he was focusing on being a model. Eventually, Josie could see Brad was falling hard for the coffee boy.
"Mark wants to meet at Triple B's. Wanna join us?" he asked. Josie was about to politely decline when she noticed a light pink wrapper bouquet of white flowers lying in a wilted bush. She opened her mouth to answer Brad, then quickly shut it again, her attention back on the flowers. Strange, that someone had placed such a beautiful arrangement in the colorless bush.