by E M Kaplan
#
“How are you feeling?” Josie asked Lisa. They were in the tiny, two-stall restroom, washing their hands while the flush and gurgle of the toilets behind them abated and eased back into silence.
The red-headed detective had taken Bonnie into the kitchen for her turn being questioned, and Lisa had seemed to breathe a sigh of relief in the vacuum left behind from the other woman’s hostility. Her shoulders had eased down from being bunched up almost around her ears. The two sisters-in-law were like oil and water, and Josie couldn’t foresee any children of theirs growing up as close cousins. As similar as the brothers had been, they’d chosen drastically opposite wives.
“I don’t know,” Lisa told her, pushing back her white-blonde hair with a shaky hand. She had a French-tipped manicure, but instead of white nail polish, the ends of her nails were light pink, which gave her fingers an accidentally weird, clawed look. “I’m so confused. I feel like I just need to lie down and sleep, and when I wake up, this will all be just a bad, bad dream.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Josie kept saying the phrase, but it was only sounding weirder and weirder to her own ears. She eyed the woman’s stomach. Up close, she thought she might be able to tell better if Lisa was pregnant, but it wasn’t any easier now either.
“People keep saying that, but I don’t know how to react.” She blinked rapidly, but her eyes were dry. Shock and confusion might account for Lisa’s lack of tears, Josie could admit. “I guess I’m going to hear it more and more, though, so I’d better get used to it.”
Lisa reached up to smooth back her hair. Her arms lifted as she gathered her baby-fine hair into a ponytail, pulling her untucked shirt slightly upward on her midsection. Josie glanced at the woman’s belly, employing both a sidelong take and a forward view in the mirror in front of them, but neither angle gave her any definitive clues. She decided to bite the bullet; she’d made the same—and worse—social blunder in her lifetime.
“Someone said you’re expecting a baby. Did I hear that right?” she asked, putting the blame on an amorphous, unnamed person floating around in the ether, trying to soften the possible embarrassment of yet another faux pas if she’d guessed wrong.
Lisa looked surprised—and guilty. She smoothed a hand over her almost-flat belly. “Yeah, it was a secret, but I guess this isn’t the kind of thing that stays hidden for long. It’s true, I’m expecting a baby.” She shook her head. “I guess I should be scared because I’m about to be a single mom, but I have a lot of friends who will help me raise him. My mom will help me, and Dante took out a huge life insurance policy right after we were married. I think it was a couple million, so me and the little one should be okay.” She said it off-hand as she leaned forward to look into the mirror, stroking the tip of her ring finger over a thin brown eyebrow.
Lisa may have uttered the statement with nonchalance, but Josie caught her own face blanching in the glass as warning bells blared in her head. Lisa might as well have taken out a billboard. Her motive for killing her husband had just ratcheted her up on the list of suspects. True, Lisa was petite and seemed to favor high heels that made her teeter on her feet. Maybe she hadn’t swung the actual murder weapon, but she still could have taken part in a conspiracy to have him killed. Most murderers needed only one reason to kill someone—Lisa had a couple million.
“What about the deli?” Josie barreled ahead, trying to cover her astonishment at the off-handed announcement. She figured, if Lisa was really now part-owner of the restaurant, she would sell out her half, take the money, and run.
“I’ve always wanted my own place,” she said, to Josie’s surprise. “When I was just a waitress here, I thought about how I’d change it and improve it. I mean, not mess with the formula too much—this place has loyal clientele who have been coming for more than a decade. I’d just make small changes, like freshen up the decor, get more involved in the community, sponsor more softball teams, partner with a 5K walk. Maybe send out a coupon or make a frequent eater card. Just things to make us more of a household name.”
Josie couldn’t stop the perplexed expression from crossing her face and making her eyebrows shoot up. That sentiment was the last thing she’d expected to hear.
“It was our dream together. We used to lie awake at night.” Now Lisa’s eyes filled with tears. She sniffled, and grabbed a tissue from a box on the countertop. “We’d chat about the new restaurant location and how amazing it was going to be. People tend to expand too big, too fast, but we were going to be conservative with the funding. All our T’s were crossed and our I’s dotted with our loan money. Totally legit, totally cautious. We wanted to make this work, and maybe one day it could be a franchise type of situation—but that was far down the line, when little Dante was going to college.” She put a hand on her smooth belly.
“That sounds like it would have been an amazing and ambitious plan. So when is your baby due?”
“Oh. Well, in a couple—I mean, in a few months,” Lisa stuttered. A look crossed her face that Josie could only call Utter Bullcrap. That one expression had revealed that Lisa’s pregnancy story was faker than a pair of boobs at a drag queen show.
“Is that so,” Josie said. It wasn’t a question, but a flat, deadpanned utterance, laced with her absolute disbelief.
Lisa began backpedaling immediately. “I don’t know what Bonnie told you, but here’s the thing—I was pregnant when Dante and I got married. I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I peed on a stick, and two pink lines appeared. It was a done deal. I even did more than one test because I couldn’t believe it at first. I was scared, but he was totally ecstatic. He kissed me and he was crying. I mean, he’s Italian and emotional, but he really was happy. He wanted to get married right away.”
Josie leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “So he was glad about it?”
“Yes. One-hundred percent. We’d only been dating a couple months. I’d been taking antibiotics for a sinus infection and didn’t know that can mess with your birth control pills. I was shocked when I found out I was pregnant.”
Josie sensed a “but,” so she held her tongue and waited for Lisa to continue. She wasn’t disappointed.
“But it turned out to be a false positive.” Lisa held her gaze in the mirror, her eye contact unwavering. She sounded like she was telling the truth. “I was utterly humiliated, since I’d already made such a big deal about it to my friends and family—and to Dante. I’d finally made an appointment with my doctor to get the official test taken at the office and they told me I wasn’t pregnant. I mean, I thought those in-home pregnancy tests were ninety-nine percent accurate or something like that. Well, let me tell you, it wasn’t in my case.”
“And did you tell Dante you weren’t pregnant after all?”
Lisa nodded, her wispy hair falling across her face. “I did.” She sniffled. “He said he loved me and he still wanted to get married.”
Josie eyed her flat stomach. “And what about now?”
“I’m ten weeks pregnant. Confirmed by my doctor and everything, and now I’m a single mom.” Her face fell and tears spilled out of her eyes—for real this time.
#
As Jack refilled everyone’s glasses with water or ice tea, Josie mulled through the fairly deep existential slurry that had flooded her thoughts about Lisa, Sal, Bonnie, and Keri. Despite seeming like they’d been in the restaurant for most of the day, it had been less than three hours—including their impromptu meal—since Susan had discovered Dante in the entryway.
The red-headed detective had pulled Josie aside and told her that she and Susan could go back upstairs, but Josie had declined for the time being. She was invested in the situation now, or as a normal person might have called it, flat-out nosy.
“Can you hurry up and figure out who killed Dante?” Susan whispered. “I want to go back to my apartment.” Her friend looked frazzled, on the verge of a major freak out, poor thing. Her social anxiety was probably kicking up something fierc
e, and Josie felt a slight pang of guilt that she’d kept her friend there longer than necessary.
“Your confidence in my abilities is terrifying.”
To be perfectly honest, Josie wasn’t sure who’d killed Dante, but she did know a thing or two about murder statistics. For instance, she was aware that most crimes like this were motivated by either love or money. The chances of a random stranger opening a locked door and striking Dante on the head were slim to none. Especially since he’d still had his wallet in his pocket and a gold ring on his finger. Which meant that Josie had most likely just shared a ham on rye with a murderer.
Feeling a little Hercule Poirot-ish, she looked at the gathered players and assessed them for possible guilt. She felt she could eliminate Jack the busboy as a suspect. He’d proven himself to be the most level-headed and reliable person of the bunch. Plus, he didn’t have a motive, only some hero worship.
Keri, the dishwasher, had motive and opportunity. She’d also doused herself with water “accidentally” with the dish sprayer, thereby getting rid of any possible blood evidence on herself. Jealousy over Dante’s marriage might have pushed her to violence. But wasn’t she more likely to have hurt Lisa than her uncle and sugar daddy?
Josie considered Lisa, the pregnant widow, who still wasn’t absolutely convincing with her story. If she’d found out Dante was cheating on her so soon after their marriage and during her pregnancy, she’d have plenty of reasons to hit him over the head, especially with the massive insurance policy payout. Her reaction at seeing his body on the floor had been loud and overblown. On the whole, Josie thought she was a good candidate. However, was Lisa even tall enough to hit the big man on the back of the head? Maybe not. Even in heels, the woman didn’t reach Sal’s shoulder, just for reference, and the brothers were similar in stature.
Not-so-wee Bonnie of the muscles was certainly strong enough to have bashed Dante over the head and felled him with one blow, but why would she have killed her brother-in-law? Motive seemed to be lacking in her case. Hurting Dante would hinder the expansion of the business. As Sal’s wife, she had a stake in their income, and she certainly had no love for Lisa. So why would she want Dante’s wife to be half-owner of the deli? That didn’t make sense.
What about Sal? Would he have wanted to kill his brother? Susan said they’d fought nonstop. Maybe this time Sal had been pushed beyond the edge of reason. Could he have snapped and killed his brother after a lifelong contentious relationship? He definitely had motive; however, he and Bonnie had been out running errands and they’d vouched for each other. Josie eyed him where he sat in a booth with his head in the cradle of his arms. He certainly looked as if he were grieving. Or perhaps remorseful.
The rain had eased up a little and another windbreaker came inside, shaking water off his jacket. “No discernible footprints outside. The rain’s not with us today. No blood anywhere, maybe for the same reason. No murder weapon that we could find,” he reported to the red-headed detective.
Josie edged closer to hear better. Her mind swirled with possibilities and she lost track of where she was. Her head banged into the side of the wall-mounted shelf where the trophies were lined up in a shiny row. Pain zinged across her scalp. She rubbed the shell of her ear as she leaned in to eavesdrop.
“The MEs are clearing out, Pete. Do we have enough info on these folks yet so we can let them go?” the new windbreaker asked the red-headed detective—Pete.
“Yeah, let ‘em go—hey.” He pointed at Josie. “I have a question for you.”
“Me?” She jerked back in surprise and whacked the shelf again with her head—awkward much? The corner trophy wobbled. She thought she’d be ninja-like and catch it before it fell, but she missed it entirely. Luckily the thing was solid and didn’t break when it hit the floor. She and the detective bent over to retrieve it at the same time and knocked their heads together.
“Ow.” She reached for the trophy, but he smacked her hand away.
“Don’t touch that.”
The room had fallen silent other than a gasp or two. The detective pointed at the reddish smear on the corner of the wooden base on which the cup had been mounted. He called back the ME in the windbreaker and told him to “bag it.” Josie rubbed her stinging hand and then her also-stinging ear.
“Good job,” he told her. “You might have just found the murder weapon.”
She’d also had a small brainstorm when she’d hit her head. Maybe her skull wasn’t as thick as she’d thought. The jumble of puzzle pieces had fallen into place to reveal a simple photograph of the deli and its players, each fitting into their roles. The whole sequence of events unfolded itself in her mind as clear as day. She just needed a little more proof before she could point fingers.
Feeling like she’d earned some credit for finding the trophy, she pressed her luck and pulled the detective aside. She said quietly, “I think I know who did this. Will you do me a favor and ask Sal to come into the kitchen? I have questions for him. I need you to be there, and also, I think we’re going to need some backup.”
#
Josie stared at the metal meat slicer while she waited for an officer to escort Sal back from the restaurant. While the machine was big and deadly-looking, it represented, not a tragedy—not a crime—but a dream. She thought about how the two brothers had invested their lives in setting up the deli, entering a joint venture together, and how that dream had crumbled to dust today. This shiny steel device, whether purchased new or picked up as the remnant from someone else’s defunct dream, stood still and quiet.
Sal entered the kitchen, closely followed by the red-headed detective and one of his uniformed officers. “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing uneasily over his shoulder at them and back at her. His steps faltered and he came to a halt. She gestured for him to come closer and he edged toward her, putting his back to the counter.
“Come on in,” she said, thinking she was the last person in the world who could intimidate someone. Here she was, barely over five feet tall and bony thanks to her unhappy stomach. She ought to be the one looking for the nearest escape route.
“What do you have to do with this?” he asked her—and it was a legitimate question. Other than being in the right time, in the right place…or the wrong one in the wrong place, depending on how she looked at it, her right to be here was tenuous at best. But propriety had never stopped her in the past, especially when she knew her instincts were correct. He looked at the uniformed officer again, and asked, “Did you find out who did this?”
“Let’s see what she has to say,” the detective said. He gestured at Josie to go ahead with her questions, but his pale and clenched jaw told her she needed to get on with it, and quickly.
The detective—Pete—was going out on a limb, letting her run the show, even if it was just for ten minutes.
“Sal, I know you loved your brother,” Josie said, choosing her words with care. Their size difference was so marked, she had to look up at him just to make eye contact, especially when he tipped his chin up.
The big man crossed his arms over his t-shirt, but didn’t respond. Another defensive posture, if Josie had ever seen one.
“Now’s the time to speak up. Don’t keep this bottled up inside of you. It’s going to eat you alive until you unburden yourself.”
Pete frowned. “I think you might be barking up the wrong—”
She cut him off and begged, putting her heart into it. Her time was running out—she knew she had just a minute or two more. She needed to crack Sal’s defenses wide open, so she began again, “Sal. Sal, think about your brother. He loved this place. He lived for picking out the best salami, slicing meat nice and thin, creating the most delicious sandwiches this side of the Charles. He put his soul into this deli. Don’t hide the truth. Tell us. Do it for him.”
He shook his head as if he were going to deny it, to refuse to say anything.
She tried again. “Keeping this all to yourself isn’t going to help you. The truth is goi
ng to get into your belly and lie there, festering until it eats you from the inside out. I know what happened, Sal, but I need to hear it from you.”
Sal’s dark eyes filled with tears, but he said nothing.
“When you first got here, you already knew Dante was dead. You came in through the doorway and you were saying, ‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ but you never asked what happened. That’s because you already knew what happened, isn’t it?”
He was still silent, refusing to meet her gaze.
“You were running errands with Bonnie, but she decided to come back here?” Their shoes had been wet, so she’d known they’d been out in the rain earlier.
Finally he nodded, and said in a hoarse whisper, “Yeah. We both did, but she didn’t see me trying to catch up with her.”
“Bonnie was the one—she found Dante in the stairwell?”
He took a deep breath and finally raised his eyes to hers. “My brother was with Keri by the stairs. He had her pressed against the wall. They were messing around. Kissing. Making out.”
“And Bonnie thought it was you because you look alike and you’re wearing the same shirt?”
Sal nodded.
“Why would she think you’d be kissing Keri?”
“Because Keri and I used to…you know.”
Josie exchanged looks with Pete. It was a regular soap opera around here—a gross one that gave her the shivers, thinking about broke and barely-of-age Keri being taken advantage of by not one, but both brothers who were older and who should have known better.
“Bonnie thought it was me and flew into an insane rage. I’ve never seen her like that before, even in a fight in the ring. I shouted at her, but she didn’t listen. She grabbed a trophy and nailed Dante on the back of the head. I had to wrestle it out of her hand. My brother fell down on the floor. I thought he just passed out, but by the time I got the trophy away from Bonnie, he was dead. The back of his head was a mess. He didn’t have a pulse or anything. I couldn’t believe it. It happened so fast.”