From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery)

by Mickelson, Caroline

  She leaned back and sat on her heels. “No, silly. I wasn’t actually in the hospital. I was just there visiting someone.”

  She wished she could know for sure if her nephew really wasn’t feeling well, or if he just wanted to play hooky. Most likely the latter. She’d just have to take her chances and send him to school. She needed to get to the police station and talk to Frankie.

  “Hurry with your breakfast, love. Mrs. Andretti will be here soon and it’s not polite to make her wait for you.” Sophia dumped the bucket of water into the kitchen sink and lathered her hands with soap. The floor could wait.

  “What did you eat last night?”

  Luciano shrugged. “This and that.”

  “You don’t know what it was?”

  “I don’t think Papa even knew what it was, so he couldn’t tell me, could he?”

  Sophia decided to ignore his impertinence. The poor child had had to eat her brother’s cooking. That was punishment enough.

  “I really don’t feel good, Zia.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. But you still need to go wash up and get your shoes on. Now march.”

  The telephone rang and she lunged at the receiver, hoping against hope it was her brother calling with news.

  It wasn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Andretti. I had no idea that Angelo told you we’d pick up your boys today.” She rubbed her temple with her free hand. “We’ll be there in five minutes.”

  She hung up, whipped off her apron and looked around frantically for her shoes. She had one on and one in hand when the front door bell rang.

  “Hurry up, Luciano,” she called up the stairs as she hobbled to the front door. “We’re late.”

  “I can’t go to school. I’m sick,” he called down.

  Why this morning?

  “You’re not sick. Now get down here.”

  She yanked the front door open just as the sounds of Luciano proving her wrong reached her ears.

  Mrs. Featherstone, the court appointed social worker, stood on the stoop.

  Sophia leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes. Her morning was now complete.

  ***

  It was midday before Sophia finally managed to arrive at the police station. She pushed open the double glass doors and surveyed the waiting room. With any luck, her brother was here.

  “Hi, Sophia.” A former high school classmate waved from the reception desk. It was Tim O’Halloran, one of the few Irish-American students who’d attended St. Catherine’s School with them.

  She smiled as she approached the counter, but her smile wavered as she drew nearer. She hadn’t seen Tim since he’d come home from the service, and she was unprepared for the scar that started at his left temple and ended just below his jaw.

  He waved his hand near his face and smiled to put her at ease. “Ignore my German souvenir.”

  “I’m just glad you got home at all.” She settled her pocketbook on the counter. “How are you?”

  “Life’s good. There’s nothing like visiting hell to make home seem like heaven.” He grinned. “I’m getting married, too. Do you remember meeting Annie Dickson at our graduation?”

  Sophia nodded. “I do, and I think Annie is a lovely girl. Congratulations. When’s the big day?”

  “Next month. We don’t want to wait any longer. We’ll be living with her folks for a while.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on the counter, his chin resting in the palm of his hand, just like he’d always done in school. It used to drive Sister Adelaide crazy. It was nice that some things hadn’t changed.

  “So what about you? Still engaged to that Cuccio fellow?”

  She shook her head.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard that something happened to Tony--”

  “No, he’s fine, Tim. He’s actually still in Europe and has a French wife.” She hated the look she saw in other people’s eyes when they first heard that Tony had ended their engagement. It was even worse when they learned he’d done it through V-mail. The pity she could live without. Tony she could live without too.

  “Listen, Tim, I could use your help.”

  “Are you looking for someone, or are you here to report something?” Tim asked.

  “Angelo hasn’t been in this morning by any chance?”

  He looked surprised. “No, haven’t seen him. Hey, does this mean he’s rejoining the force?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet, but I know he’d love to one day. He’s opened a private detective agency.” She glanced up at the clock. It was already noon. She wondered how Frankie was holding up.

  “Tim, what are the chances I can see someone who was arrested last night?”

  “You’re asking about Frankie Vidoni?”

  It was her turn to look surprised. “How did you know?”

  He grinned. “The Captain laid a bet you’d be here before lunch time to see Vidoni.” He turned to check the time. “Looks like he was right.”

  The gambling habits of the Irish were beyond her scope of interest at the moment.

  “May I please see Frankie?”

  “Sure thing.” He grabbed a set of keys from the desk behind him, lifted the countertop and ushered her through to the inner office. “Follow me. Captain said you could have ten minutes. Do you want me to cuff Vidoni?”

  “No, he’s not dangerous.”

  “Don’t know about that. He managed to get himself arrested for murder.”

  “Don’t you mean attempted murder?”

  “Nothing attempted about it. Moretti’s as dead you can get.”

  She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She’d assumed that they’d arrested Frankie for poisoning Mooch, not Vincenzo’s murder.

  Tim stopped and unlocked first one door, and then another before they came to a cramped visiting room. “Be right back with Vidoni.”

  Sophia sat in one of the two chairs to await their return. Other than the waiting room, she’d never actually been in the jail before. The dampness chilled and unnerved her. She wished Angelo was with her. They should be talking to Frankie together.

  Never mind Frankie, her brother should have been at home this morning to hear Mrs. Featherstone’s little bombshell. She desperately needed to talk to him. She’d have to find a pay phone after she left the station. With any luck, she could track down her wayward sibling before she ran out of nickels.

  She jumped to her feet when the door opened, but sat right back down when she took in Frankie’s disheveled appearance. He looked like hell.

  “Sit down across from Miss Mancini and be sure you keep your hands on the table where I can see them.” Tim pointed to the chair opposite Sophia. “Ten minutes, and speak in English or we’re done here.”

  Hands spread flat out on the table, Frankie leaned forward. “You gotta help me, Sophia.”

  “Have you seen your attorney yet?”

  Frankie nodded. “Yeah, they’ve been here. They’re supposed to be checking on bail.”

  “What do you think I can do?”

  “You have to go see someone for me.” His eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse. He barely resembled the same powerful man who commanded instant attention with his very presence. His white shirt was grungy and he looked out of place in shirtsleeves.

  “Do you want me to see if they’ve secured bail for you?”

  He shook his head vehemently. “No, never mind those clowns. I need you to go and give my wife a message.”

  So in a time of crisis he was thinking of his wife and not his mistress. So like a man.

  “What exactly do you want me to tell her?”

  “I need you to convince Lily I didn’t do this.”

  “How much convincing do you think she’ll need?” It seemed a perfectly fair question.

  His eyes moistened. “You don’t know my Lily. It won’t take much. She’s always believed in me. But you’ve got to go see her today. She’s ill and I don’t know how much time she has left.”

  Hi
s devotion was almost touching. Almost. The image of Frankie and Maria Acino standing together at Vincenzo’s, looking for all the world a happy couple, flashed through her mind.

  “I’ll do it.” She didn’t like the idea of acting as Frankie’s personal messenger but if his wife was as ill as he said, it seemed the only decent thing to do.

  “Thank you, Sophia. Tell her I’m innocent and I’ll be home as soon as I can. And tell her they’ve got the wrong man.” He bit his lip. “She’s my world. I’d do anything to protect her, Sophia. Anything.”

  Did Frankie’s definition of anything include murder?

  “Isn’t she used to this sort of thing happening?” Sophia waved her hand around the cell. “Surely she knows what to expect after you’ve been arrested.”

  Frankie sat back and frowned. His haughty and reproachful expression made him look more like the Frankie she was used to.

  “I’ve never been arrested before.”

  That startled her. A man with his reputation managing to avoid arrest for this long? Impressive. In its own way.

  “How do you know she’ll agree to see me?”

  Frankie’s smile was sad. “Take her a red carnation. She always picks out a flower for my lapel. She’ll know I sent you.”

  “Okay, I’ll go.”

  “Bless you, Sophia.” Frankie reached a hand out to her.

  “Hands on the table, Vidoni.” Tim stepped forward and tapped Sophia on the shoulder. “Time’s up.”

  “Wait, what evidence do they have to believe you killed Vincenzo?”

  “It’s nothing.” Frankie shrugged. “It’s all a mix-up.”

  “If you want my help then you need to tell me what the police think they have on you.”

  He shrugged. “There’s talk they found a suit jacket that resembles mine with blood stains on it.” He held out his hands, palms up. “I’ve never hurt anyone with these hands. Never. I swear I didn’t do it.”

  Tim came around and motioned for Frankie to stand and put his hands behind his back. He snapped the cuffs around Frankie’s wrists and motioned for him to move forward.

  “How’s Mooch?” Frankie asked.

  Sophia gave him one point in his favor for having the decency to ask. Perhaps under the circumstances it should be two points. “I spoke with a nurse this morning. She led me to believe he’ll make it. That’s all I know right now.”

  “Good,” he answered as the police officer nudged him to get moving.

  “Thank you, Tim.” Sophia followed them to the door.

  After taking only a few steps, Frankie turned back.

  “Sophia, go see Primo Quadrelli too. He’s making arrangements for me and I need to know--”

  “That’s quite enough of that,” Tim interrupted his prisoner. “Move along.”

  Sophia had one last question.

  “Do you want me to take a message to Maria too?”

  “Maria?” Frankie shook his head. “Nah. That dame’s the least of my problems right now.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mooch was in his hospital bed, his head resting against the pillows, and his eyes closed when Sophia peeked in his room. She pushed the door open and coughed discretely. Still no response.

  “Mr. DiMuccio?” She approached his bed tentatively. She had no idea how extensive his injuries were, or even if he’d be able to communicate at all.

  She laid her hand on his arm.

  His eyes flew open and he struggled to sit up. Sophia knew instantly that he recognized her because he frowned.

  “How are you?”

  Mooch pointed to his throat and shook his head.

  “You can’t speak?”

  He nodded.

  Her heart sank. Getting information from him was going to be more problematic than she’d anticipated. But not impossible.

  She snapped open her pocketbook and took out a small pad of paper and a pencil. She held them up.

  “Are you feeling well enough to write your answers?”Mooch furrowed his brow, but nodded.

  Sophia glanced over her shoulder at the door. A matter of moments was all she had before being escorted out.

  She thrust the pad and pencil into Mooch’s outstretched hand.

  “Who poisoned you?”

  Mooch wrote his answer in a painstakingly slow manner that set Sophia’s teeth on edge. She moved closer and tried to peek over the pad to see what he was writing, but Mooch drew the paper closer to his chest.

  “Sorry,” Sophia offered. “But we don’t have much time. I snuck in here while the officer guarding your door stepped away.”

  A corner of Mooch’s mouth turned up. His expression certainly couldn’t have passed for a smile, but it wasn’t hostile either. That had to be a good sign.

  She took the pad back and read his large, scrawled writing. ‘Why do you care?’ Really? What kind of answer was that?

  “I care because I found you and you scared five years off of my life, that’s why.” Instinct told her that a direct approach with Mooch was the only way to go. “Now, who do you think tried to kill you?”

  He wrote a little more quickly this time.

  ‘Don’t know who did it.’

  “I think the person who poisoned you also killed Vincenzo.”

  ‘So?’ he wrote.

  Sophia’s eyebrows shot up. So? What did he mean by ‘so?’ Had whatever substance he’d ingested addled his brain? “So we have to stop them, Mr. DiMuccio.”

  ‘My name is Mooch.’

  Sophia looked up from the pad they’d been passing back and forth. “Sorry.” She pointed to the chair by the bed. “May I?”

  Mooch nodded and she dragged it over to his bedside and sat. She handed him back the pad. “Mr.--I mean, Mooch. I think the police officer out there has gone in search of chains to drag me away in--”

  A strangled sound escaped from Mooch’s throat. Good heavens. Maybe the man could laugh, but by the sound of it, the attempt must have hurt. She poured him a cup of water and handed it to him.

  “We don’t have much time and I need your help before someone else gets hurt. Or killed. I’ll ask questions and you write your answers.”

  He nodded.

  “What did you take out of Vincenzo’s restaurant the night he was murdered?”

  His eyes widened.

  “Yes, I know. Someone saw you leaving the restaurant with a book.”

  He shrugged, wrote a reply and held up the pad.

  ‘Not your business.’

  “Yes, it is. Mr. Vidoni hired my brother and I to find the person who killed Vincenzo.”

  Mooch quickly scribbled something. He held up the pad. ‘I won’t talk until Mr. Vidoni gives me the okay.’

  “Well he can’t do that because he’s been arrested and he’s already used his one phone call.”

  She was unprepared for the effect the news would have on him. He looked dumbstruck. Worse even.--he looked like he wanted to cry.

  He tossed back his blanket and tried to sit up.

  “Oh, no.” Sophia was on her feet in a flash. She snapped her fingers and pointed to his pillows. “You get right back in bed, Mooch DiMuccio. There’s no way you can see Frankie now, so don’t even think about trying.”

  He wavered for a moment but finally gave in. He pulled the blanket back up over his lap but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. It was clear he was upset.

  Either way, she felt badly for him. The news had obviously stunned him.

  “Listen, Mooch. Help me help Frankie. Tell me what you know.”

  ‘No.’

  She wasn’t going to let up. She’d hammer him with questions if need be.

  “What did you take from Vincenzo’s kitchen? Was it something that Frankie asked you to take? Where was Vincenzo when you were there? Did you see anyone else with him?”

  Mooch held up his hand and then one finger. One at a time, he seemed to be telling her.

  “Sorry.” She glanced back at the door. She wasn’t complaining, but she was surprised she hadn
’t been thrown out yet. “Please tell me.”

  She watched indecision flash across Mooch’s face. She waited while he wrote a short message.

  ‘What happened to my kitty?’

  Sophia shook her head. “I’m not telling you until you answer my questions.” Withholding information from him was a bit of a gamble, but she was willing to risk it. “What was in that book you took from Vincenzo’s?”

  The hospital room door opened and Sophia cringed. She hadn’t gotten anything decent out of Mooch yet. She slowly turned around.

  “Nice to see you again, Miss Mancini.”

  Sophia grinned when she recognized the friendly voice. “Hello, Sergeant O’Brian. I have to say that I’m happy it’s you coming through that door and not anyone else.” Especially your captain, she left unsaid. “Are you here to evict me?”

  Officer O’Brian smiled broadly. “It’s your lucky day. I came in to relieve Officer Donahue.” He looked from her to Mooch. “Miss Mancini isn’t disturbing you, is she Mr. DiMuccio?”

  Mooch shook his head.

  “Right then. Ten minutes more, Miss Mancini, and then I’ll ask you to leave.”

  Sophia smiled her gratitude. “You’re very kind. I won’t out wear my welcome.”

  “See that you don’t. And I’ll not be offended if you show your appreciation with a bag of your aunt’s biscotti.” He grinned.

  “Consider it done, Sergeant.”

  After the door closed behind him, she turned back to Mooch.

  “Tell me about the book you took.”

  Mooch doodled with the pencil for a long moment before he wrote something.

  Sophia leaned forward to read the slanting letters. ‘It was something Frankie wanted me to find.’

  “What was the relationship between Frankie and Vincenzo?”

  Mooch merely shrugged.

  Sophia struggled to keep her impatience at bay. She leaned forward in her chair. “Help me with this, Mooch. Someone killed Vincenzo, someone tried to kill you, and I want to find out who it was.”

  His only answer was to stare out the window.

  She tried again. “Do you think Frankie killed Vincenzo?”

  His denial was swift and ferocious. ‘No, no, no’ he wrote.

  “Mooch, I don’t want to play twenty questions with you anymore. Tell me something I don’t know. Help me out.”