“I’ve taken the liberty of typing up a contract and a fee agreement. Angelo and I have already signed both copies. If you agree to our terms, please sign them both and the second copy is yours.”
Frankie opened the envelope and drew out the typed pages. His eyes skimmed over the contract. “I can see you are prepared and quite thorough.”
“Necessary qualities in a detective, don’t you think?”
“I do.” He took a ballpoint pen from his suit jacket pocket and signed both copies. He slipped his copy into his top desk drawer. From the right drawer he took an envelope and handed it to her along with her copy of the contract. “More than half of your fee up front, plus money for any expenses you incur. I want you to know that I expect complete discretion and honesty from you and your brother.”
“We expect nothing less in return.”
“Siamo d’accordo allora.” He stood and offered his hand to seal the deal. She shook it, praying she hadn’t made the wrong decision by taking on Frankie as their first client.
“Mooch here will give you a lift home,” Frankie said.
As Sophia followed Mooch down the hallway, she wondered about the Vidoni family secrets that he invariably was privy to. When he pulled open the front door for her, she lobbied her first question at him.
“Did you go with Mr. Vidoni to the party at Vincenzo’s yesterday afternoon?”
She wasn’t surprised to see him scowl.
“You want a ride home or not?”
“No, thank you. I’ll walk.” She stepped over the threshold and turned back to look up at him. “Did you know Vincenzo Moretti?”
In answer, he slammed the door shut and turned the dead bolt.
Mooch, she realized, was someone she needed to have another conversation with at a later date. Was he always that rude? Or was the silent treatment his way of hiding something?
Chapter Eight
“You wanted a murder and now we’ve got one. What’s next?”
Sophia eyed her brother. He sat on the sofa opposite her. Her nephew was curled up next to her. “Hey, don’t forget, I’m new to this. I’m not sure what to do, but we’ll think of something.” She reached down and smoothed Luciano’s hair from his forehead. His mercifully short fever had broken, and she knew by tomorrow morning he’d be back to running around.
“You got Frankie to agree to pay double the fee we talked about.” Angelo smiled. “That must have taken some smooth talking.”
“Not really. Last night, I retyped a higher fee agreement after you went to bed. I took the original one with me in case he balked at the amount we asked for, but he didn’t blink.”
“Which takes us right back to my first question. We’ve got a client, a contract, and enough cash to satisfy the judge. Where are we going to start looking for answers?”
“I’m meeting Stella at Vincenzo’s in a little while. I agreed partially because I felt sorry for her, but also so I could find out more about Vincenzo and who she thinks might have killed him.”
“Assuming it wasn’t her, it will be interesting to hear what she has to say.”
Sophia wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “You don’t really think it could be Stella, do you? Good heavens, Angelo, he was her husband.”
He shrugged. “More murders are committed by people the victim knew well than by strangers. The closer their relationship to the victim, the more closely we have to examine their motives.”
“I definitely want to ask her what she was doing at the party.”
Angelo cocked his head and made a face. It was a look she knew all too well. She issued a quick and silent prayer for patience and then spoke. “Remember? You told me you saw her at the party?” Sophia struggled to keep her voice level. The doctors had told her that pushing Angelo to remember would only frustrate him. “Do you think it was someone else you mistook for Stella?”
He thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember exactly. Maybe I saw her. Maybe I didn’t.”
“It’s not a problem.” Except that it was. Had he or hadn’t he seen Stella Moretti at the murder scene right before her husband was killed? She hated the guilty look on her brother’s face. It wasn’t his fault.
“You seemed sure yesterday so that’s good enough for now, Ang. Just tell me if you remember something else later.”
He nodded. “It’ll come back. Did you see anyone else at the party that you didn’t expect to see there? Any uninvited guests?”
“No, I don’t think so, but you saw what it was like. There were people in, people out. Everyone was everywhere.” Mancini family gatherings usually came complete with a revolving door. “So you also think the murderer was someone at our party?”
Angelo nodded. “I think it’s more than likely. Face it, Sophia, the room was full of people coming and going. The murderer could have been someone we invited, or someone who invited themselves and fit in so well we didn’t notice them. What better way to get to Vincenzo then in his own crowded restaurant? With all those people milling about, it would have been easier to catch him off-guard.”
“That’s what Captain McIntyre said.”
“That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. After I spent some time talking to the guys I used to work with, I remembered something about McIntyre you should know.”
Sophia’s curiosity was aroused, but she stayed quiet.
“You remember his uncle, the first Captain McIntyre?”
She nodded. “You introduced Charlotte and I to him at a picnic once, I think.”
“That was him. He wanted to retire in late ’41, but after Pearl Harbor, he decided to stick around so the force wouldn’t be short when all the younger cops joined up. Right after Hiroshima he decided it was time he retired, and when his nephew was stateside, he recommended him as his successor.”
“And?”“McIntyre’s sensitive about accusations of nepotism. He’s going to want to be very directly involved in solving this murder, and he’s going to want it wrapped up quickly with no interference.”
“What are you trying so hard to tell me?”
“All I’m saying is watch your step, Soph. McIntyre’s not going to like it if you get in his way.”
***
When Sophia arrived at Vincenzo’s Ristorante, Stella was nowhere in sight, so she decided to wait outside under the awning. She watched people walk by, waved hello to neighbors she recognized, and then her eye caught sight of a man with an artist’s drawing pad. He stood on the opposite sidewalk, glancing between his pad and the restaurant façade several times before sketching something.
Sophia’s curiosity got the better of her. She crossed the street.
“Hello, may I see what you’re drawing?”
The man, quite heavyset and close to fifty, she’d guess, smiled at her. His expression was friendly enough to put her at ease. “Certainly, Miss, although I’d hardly call it a drawing.” He held his pad out for her to see.
His sketch was a rough depiction of the front of Vincenzo’s. Except that if his design came to life, the restaurant would soon be known as Eugene’s Ristorante.
Well, Eugene Gallo certainly didn’t let any grass grow under his feet. It was hard to imagine Vincenzo’s not being Vincenzo’s, to her anyway. Apparently, it wasn’t as difficult a switch for Eugene.
“Interesting,” she said, and then an idea came to her. “I imagine these new signs must take a while to make. Can I ask how long this has been in the works? I didn’t know that the owners were thinking of making a change.”
“I just received a call this morning.” He nodded toward the restaurant. “Is the food any good in there?” Obviously he hadn’t heard about the murder. He must not be from the neighborhood.
“The food is wonderful, but I believe it’s closed today for a...family emergency.” She leaned over again to look at his sketch again. “Do you have a long waiting list for new clients?”
“It varies. Now that the war is over and materials are mor
e plentiful, we hope to be busier.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Are you asking because you know someone who needs a new sign?”
“No, just curious. Bad habit I have.”
His smile was indulgent. He flipped the pad closed. “Careful then, Miss. You know what curiosity did to the cat.”
***
When Sophia tried the restaurant door it opened easily.
She stood and surveyed the room. The dining area was empty. If she hadn’t been here herself last night she wouldn’t have believed this quiet, elegant restaurant could be the scene of a murder. She shivered.
“Stella,” she called out. There was no answer. The silence was eerie.
Where was Eugene? The door was unlocked, so he had to be here. A horrific idea dawned on her. What if...oh, no, it was too awful to think about. She rubbed her arms to ward off the chills. What if something had happened to Eugene? What if the murderer had come back?
Reason told her to leave the restaurant the way she’d come in. But curiosity drew her toward the kitchen. Her heart thudding, she pushed open the kitchen door, praying she wouldn’t find Eugene sprawled on the floor the way she had found Vincenzo just last night.
“Ah, Miss Mancini, how nice to see you.”
Sophia leaned against the door frame and heaved a huge sigh of relief.
Eugene Gallo stood on the opposite side of the kitchen. He wasn’t alone. Bobby Ippolito, Rudy Zangari and Augustino Ragallo were with him.
“Hi Sophia,” they chorused. She smiled back. She’d gone to high school with all three of them. Bobby she hadn’t seen since he had returned from the Pacific. It did her heart good to see them safely home and looking so healthy. But what were they doing here?
Eugene answered her unspoken question.
“I see you know our new wait staff, Miss Mancini.”
Good heavens, the man was on a roll. First the sign, and now new waiters. It was a wonder he’d had time for Mass this morning.
The kitchen was immaculate. She studied the floor where Vincenzo’s body had been only the night before. There was no evidence of any disturbance, let alone a bloody murder. The floor looked clean enough to eat off of. Her stomach turned.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just came in to...uh, see if you were...to tell you how delicious the food was last night.”
Eugene beamed. “Thank you. I’m working on a new menu today.”
“A new menu and a new sign too? Why the sudden changes?”
Eugene stared at her blankly for a moment and then his usual benign smile settled into place. “Rest assured that I’m only honoring Vincenzo’s wishes.”
“You mean to tell me that he would want to name the restaurant after you?” Sophia realized her voice lacked any measure of diplomacy, but she didn’t believe for a moment what Eugene was saying. “The menu changes I could understand, but why would Vincenzo agree to a name change?”
Eugene looked over his shoulder at the three onlookers before he turned back to Sophia, a frown on his face. “It was his suggestion, if you must know. He felt it was only fair to honor my culinary skills and contribution to the restaurant’s success.”
“That doesn’t sound like Vincenzo.”
He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “There were plenty of things you didn’t know about Vincenzo. Now I ask you to excuse us.”
***
Duly dismissed, Sophia waited for Stella outside the restaurant. At a quarter past four Stella came hurrying along the sidewalk, ever so slightly out of breath.
“Sophia, I’m sorry I’m late. My family wouldn’t let me get away.”
“Of course not. They’re worried about you. Why didn’t you bring one of your sisters with you?”
Stella shook her head. “They all hated Vincenzo, and telling them I was coming here would have required too many explanations.”
Sophia waited, but that was all Stella had to say. She followed as Stella led her through a side door and up the stairs to the apartment above the restaurant. She couldn’t help but notice that Stella’s hands shook as she put the key in the door.
“Are you sure you want to go in there, Stella?” she asked. “Surely it can wait a few days.”
Stella shook her head emphatically. “I really need to do this now. I need...” her voice trailed off. She seemed lost in thought for a long moment. “I need to see for myself that he’s not here.”
Once they were in the apartment, Sophia wondered what else Stella needed. By the way she went through Vincenzo’s things it appeared she was looking for something specific. As curious as she was, Sophia managed to keep her questions to herself for the moment. It seemed indecent to grill a new widow, even one who was far from grief-stricken.
She looked around the apartment. It was sparsely decorated, the furniture plain and the rugs and curtains old and faded. But it was clean. It looked like a room in a boarding house.
“Can I help you find something, Stella?” she finally asked.
Stella left the desk and sat down on the couch. She looked defeated.
“I was looking for cash.” She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands.
Sophia sat next to her. She gingerly patted the sobbing woman’s back.
“It’s okay, Stella, have yourself a good cry. God knows you deserve it.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Sophia.”
“Was it always so awful?”
“No, not at first.” Stella wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Sophia handed her. “When we first married I was under this crazy illusion that Vincenzo was a soft hearted man with a gruff, hard exterior. But I quickly figured out there was no soft heart. No heart at all really.”
“And you have no money?”
Stella shook her head. “None. He kicked me out with nothing. He packed my suitcase and told me to get out. That’s all I had, my one suitcase and the key he forgot to take from me.”
“Forgot?” Why was everyone taking her for a sap today? First Eugene, and now Stella. “That doesn’t sound like Vincenzo to forget you had a key.”
Stella’s face turned red. She was actually blushing. “Oh, God, Sophia. I’m so ashamed.”
“Tell me about it,” Sophia prodded her gently.
“Vincenzo used to call me back here. When he wanted me. And I had to come until he, you know, until he told me to go.”
Sophia felt ill. Stella couldn’t mean ... no, she had to have misunderstood. One glance at the other woman’s face told her she hadn’t misunderstood.
“But why?”
Stella started to cry again. Silent tears of anguish spilled down her cheeks. “If I didn’t, he threatened to hurt someone I loved. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to let him use me. I had to. I couldn’t think of any other way out.”
Murder was a way out. Sophia closed her eyes and shook her head to ward off the horror of what Stella had just shared with her. Any woman would understand the desire to escape, at any cost.
“But surely now that he’s gone you’ll be okay, won’t you?” Sophia knew the time alone with Vincenzo’s widow was a golden opportunity to gather information. She needed to keep Stella talking. “The restaurant must be doing well. It’s always full.”
Stella shrugged. “I don’t know. He never shared any of the financial details with me. Or any other kinds of details.”
“You weren’t curious?”
She shook her head. “If I asked, it made him angry. It just wasn’t worth it.” She sounded forlorn, like a confused child. “I’m just so tired of having no money at all. Every bite of food I eat, I have to accept as charity. Every piece of clothing has to come off of someone else’s back. It’s humiliating.”
“Is that why you came to the restaurant last night?”
Stella gasped. “What? I wasn’t here last night. Who told you that?”
No way was she giving up her brother’s name. “Someone I trust told me they saw you at the party.”
“No, no, I was
n’t here,” Stella vehemently denied it. “I never came to the restaurant unless I was forced to.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who told you they saw me here?”
Sophia’s heart sank. So Angelo had been wrong. She desperately wanted things to be like they were before the war, back when her brother’s mind had been strong, focused, and his memory like a trap that no detail could escape from.
“Never mind, it was probably a mistake.” She decided to take a different approach. “Who do you think killed Vincenzo?”
“I’m not sure what to think.” More tears pooled in Stella’s eyes. “I told the police I have no idea who did it.”
“You told the police....” Sophia let her voice trail off, hoping that Stella would say more. She didn’t have to wait long.
“But. I think--no, it’s not possible. It doesn’t make sense, but in a way it does--I just don’t know what to do.” Stella’s eyes filled with tears.
Sophia put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Why don’t you tell me what you think, Stella, and maybe I can help you sort it out.”
Stella’s expression brightened. “I’d like to tell you, Sophia, just in case maybe I’m right. You see, it’s never made any sense that--”
The sound of heavy shoes on the wooden stairs startled both women. They jumped to their feet just before the door burst open.
“Ah, Miss Mancini. Why am I not surprised to see you where you don’t belong?”
Blast his Irish eyes. What was he doing here now? His timing couldn’t be worse.
Chapter Nine
Sophia and Stella sat silently on the sofa while Captain McIntyre and two of his men searched the apartment. Unlike Stella, who sat morosely staring into space, Sophia didn’t take her eyes off of the police captain’s movements. Despite watching him closely she didn’t learn anything new.
She well might have, though, if he hadn’t interrupted her conversation with Stella.
After an interminable wait, the police finally finished examining every square inch of the apartment. Despite their thorough search, they’d not found anything that seemed to interest them very much.
From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) Page 7