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

by Mickelson, Caroline

  Sophia pulled a face at him. “If so, would I tell you? No. Actually that was about a shopping trip. Maria is going to help me pick out some new clothes.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I can only imagine that little expedition.”

  His grin annoyed Sophia, probably because he was right. It was bound to be a nightmare.

  “You wanted coffee, then let’s have coffee.” She waved to a watchful Signor Carelli.

  He was across the room in no time, a curious look on his face. “Buon giorno, cara.” He nodded to Tiernan before turning back to Sophia. “What can I get for you and your friend?”

  It wasn’t lost on Sophia that he placed a special emphasis on the last two words.

  “Two espressos, and I think something sweet, please.”

  “Certamente, I have something new you can try. I’ll be right back with your espressos.”

  “Plain coffee for me,” Tiernan said.

  Signor Carelli frowned. “Eh? Why?” He turned to Sophia. “Why?”

  She shrugged in answer and turned to Tiernan. “Afraid to try something new, Captain?”

  “Touché, Miss Mancini.” He turned to Signor Carelli. “An espresso will be fine, thank you.”

  While they waited for their drinks and pasticcino to arrive, Sophia tried to engage her companion in small talk, but he wouldn’t offer more than a one or two word answer to every other question.

  “Tell me what you make of Eugene’s sudden changes to the restaurant,” she prompted him. “You’ve heard that he’s changing the name of his restaurant to Eugene’s haven’t you?”

  “I have.”

  He considered that a response? She tried again.

  “What can you tell me about the suit jacket you found? Don’t forget you promised to show it to me today.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That deal’s off. You promised to meet me and take me to the Iacobelli’s, and yet you were nowhere in sight when I showed up at your home this morning.”

  “You found your way there eventually. Did you find out anything from little Jimmy that helped you?”

  “Possibly.”

  “You know, Captain, I’m getting the feeling that you didn’t want to share information with me as much as you wanted to tell me something. So, please do so.”

  He sat back and eyed her thoughtfully.

  Signor Carelli brought a tray over to their table. He made small talk with Sophia for a few moments, all the while casting curious glances at Tiernan. After he left, Sophia raised an eyebrow in question.

  “You have sound instincts, Miss Mancini. I do want you to know something.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Right, here it is then. I will let no one interfere with my solving this case.”

  “And you’re telling me this because I’m the no one?” She felt a stab of annoyance. He had nerve to think he could just dismiss her.

  “That’s a bit blunt, but yes, that’s the heart of it.” He took a sip of his espresso and pulled a face. He pushed the cup and saucer away. “I will give you this, you appear to be doing a relatively good job of keeping up.”

  “You’re too kind, Captain McIntyre.”

  “Look, the fact of the matter, Miss Mancini, is that you might have misunderstood what my uncle said. I believe he simply was suggesting we act courteously to each other, should we run into each other while investigating this murder.”

  How stupid did he think she was?

  “Solving this case expeditiously is more important to me than you could possibly imagine. I don’t expect you to understand,” he said.

  “Oh, but I do understand, Captain.” She stirred her coffee a little more vigorously than necessary. “My brother and I are fighting for custody of his son. We have only a matter of days before we’re due back in court with proof that we can make a success of our new venture. I love Luciano more than you could begin to imagine. Solving Vincenzo’s murder, expeditiously as you say, is my absolute top priority. So I won’t be warned off the case.”

  “Be reasonable.”

  Sophia felt her face flush. Anger always had that effect on her.

  “I suppose I should be flattered, Captain, that you’re concerned enough about my solving the murder before you that you felt you needed to have a sit down with me.” She sipped her espresso and tried to act as nonchalant as he appeared to be.

  Signor Carelli arrived with two small plates. He put one in front of Tiernan and held the other out proudly for Sophia’s approval.

  “A napoleon with strawberry filling. Try it.”

  Sophia waved her hand. “No, I can’t now.”“Try it, one bite. Solo un morso.”

  Sophia offered an apologetic shrug.

  Signor Carelli turned to the police captain and narrowed his eyes. “What have you done to her, eh?”

  Sophia started to object but quickly stopped herself. She was not going to champion the captain. Not when he tried to warn her off of her own murder case. No, he was on his own.

  Tiernan looked incredulous. “I haven’t done anything. She ate a full breakfast this morning.”

  Sophia cringed at the stunned look on Signor Carelli’s face.

  “You bought Sophia breakfast this morning?” he demanded.

  Tiernan shook his head. “No, I didn’t buy her a meal. It was a home cooked meal--”

  “You sit there and calmly talk to me about having breakfast with this nice girl?” Signor Carelli’s voice was now loud enough to command silence from the other patrons. “I’ve known this girl since she was a bambina. She’s a good girl.”

  He tossed the tray onto a table behind him and began to roll his sleeves up.

  A shadow loomed over the table. Startled, Sophia turned to see what--no, who it was. An enormous man stood behind Signor Carelli. He was looking right at her.

  “Are you Sophia Mancini?”

  She nodded.

  “You need to come with me.”

  “Let me guess. You work for Frankie Vidoni?”

  The giant frowned. “How did you know?”

  Sophia shrugged. “Let’s just say you meet the height requirement.”

  The man snapped his fingers and pointed to the door. “Move. The car is outside.”

  She glanced between the bewildered Captain McIntyre and the irate Signor Carelli.

  She stood and reached out to squeeze Signor Carelli’s arm reassuringly. “Non e cio che pensi,” she assured him. It’s not what you think. I’ll explain later. “Lo spieghero dopo.”

  “What did you just say to him?” Captain McIntyre frowned at her. “Where are you going?”

  “That’s two questions, Captain. And in answer to the second, I’ve got a murder to solve.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frankie Vidoni was guilty beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  The man should be tried and convicted for wasting her time. Sophia drummed her fingers on the metal table in the Harrison Heights police station visiting room. In all fairness, it probably wasn’t his fault he was keeping her waiting, but still. She had more important things to do than sit in a drab jail waiting room.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see if Frankie’s henchman was still watching her. He was. She smiled at him, all the while cursing his presence. If she were alone, she’d feel free to leave and go find more information about the evidence the police had against Frankie. But with Mooch’s standin watching her as if he were an overzealous Alcatraz guard, she could do little but sit, wait, and stew.

  “Would you please check with someone and see how much longer Mr. Vidoni might be?” she finally asked him.

  His scowl was a definitive no.

  Sophia glanced up at the clock and sighed. “I’ll give Mr. Vidoni five more minutes, and then I really have to leave,” she said to the room at large, because Tino certainly hadn’t seemed interested in anything she’d said on the ride from Carelli’s to the station. She waited for an objection, but none was forthcoming.

 
She was free to go--at least she thought she was--but she did want to speak to Frankie. She had several questions to ask him--questions she doubted he’d answer. More importantly, she needed to deliver Lily Vidoni’s message. His reaction to that would be worth waiting around to see.

  “Tino, can I ask you a question?”

  “No.” His reply was sullen.

  “No?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Why had she even bothered to ask? Too bad for him. He was a captive audience.

  “Tell me something about Mr. Vidoni,” she called over her shoulder. Perhaps eye contact was his problem. “Did you ever drive him to Vincenzo’s Ristorante?” His silence didn’t surprise her. She tried again, this time with an offer she didn’t think he’d refuse. “I’ll make you a deal. You tell me how many times you saw your boss and Vincenzo Moretti together and I’ll stop with the questions.”

  “Please don’t stop on my account, Miss Mancini.”

  Sophia cringed. She hadn’t heard the door open. Slowly she came to her feet and faced her client.

  She just had to quit letting people sneak up on her. It was getting downright embarrassing.

  Frankie looked much better this morning. He’d obviously slept and perhaps even had a shave. His HHPD issued shirt was at least clean. But it was the look in his eyes that most told her that Frankie Vidoni was back in business.

  He sat across from her. “Did you see Lily?”

  She nodded. His devotion to his wife was touching. Well, except for the fact that he had a mistress.

  “I did. She sends her love.”

  He glanced quickly at the police sergeant and then leaned forward. His voice was barely above a whisper. “You told her I didn’t kill Vincenzo.”

  His eyes eagerly searched hers. She chose her words carefully.

  “I told your wife that you wanted her to know you were innocent.”

  Frankie sat back and exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath since she’d left him yesterday. “Good, good.”

  “She didn’t believe me.”

  Frankie stared at her. “Say that again.”

  “Wait, let me try to think of her exact words. She said she knows what you’ve done. She said to tell you that she forgives you, but it’s time to tell the truth.”

  He looked stunned. But not panicked. Wouldn’t a guilty man panic if his wife told him she knew he’d committed a murder? Had Lily Vidoni even been talking about murder? Or something else altogether? Whatever Lily had been referring to, she’d said it was time to tell the police so it had to be something serious.

  “How did my wife look?”

  Sophia bit her lip. “I don’t know how to answer that question. Remember, it was the first time I’ve met her.” At his crestfallen expression, she hastened to add, “She seemed deeply touched by the carnation you sent. It’s obvious she’s a kind, loving woman.”

  A sad smile crossed Frankie’s face. “My Lily is one of a kind.”

  An idea occurred to her. She could be throwing darts in the dark, but it was worth a try.

  “Was whatever Vincenzo was blackmailing you about a threat to your wife?” The flicker of surprise she thought she saw in his eyes might just be her imagination. Or not. Maybe she’d hit on something. “Was Vincenzo blackmailing you about your relationship with Maria?”

  Frankie shook his head dismissively. “Maria Acino is not a problem. In the grand scheme of things, she’s not anything to me. Certainly not blackmail material. And, assuming there was any truth to these so-called blackmail rumors, why would I tell you anything about it?”

  “Because you want to know who killed Vincenzo for some other reason than idle curiosity. So, unless you killed Vincenzo and then hired my brother and I to keep you informed of how close the police were to pinning the rap on you, you more than want to know who the murderer is. You need to know.”

  Frankie’s expression was unreadable. Sophia couldn’t tell if he was angry, amused, or somewhere in between. The man would have made a good actor, but obviously he’d been called to the streets, not the stage.

  “I’m not going to stop asking questions until you give me something to work with.”

  Frankie laughed. “You, Miss Mancini, are delightful. You are direct, to the point, and unafraid to ask questions that might be dangerous. In fact, if you were a man, I’d offer you a job with my organization.” He glanced over at the guard and lowered his voice. “As you are probably aware, my family conducts a business that is--how shall I put this--best operated with a certain degree of discretion. Hai capito?”

  “Oh, I completely understand why you’d want to be discreet,” Sophia answered. She was doubtless overstepping a deferential line in the sand that most people didn’t cross when talking to a Vidoni family member, but an overwhelming sense of frustration egged her on. This entire meeting was a waste of time. “I can only imagine what lengths you’d go to keep certain information, shall we say, private. But you hired me to do a job, and that is what I’m doing. Or trying to do, but you’re being uncooperative.”

  “Uncooperative? That’s not how I’m used to being described.” His tone had lost a little of its geniality.

  She leaned in closer. “Why did you murder Vincenzo?”

  “I didn’t.” A long moment passed before he spoke again. “I assure you I didn’t kill Vincenzo, and I don’t know who did. I can’t tell you anything else.”

  Can’t. Not won’t. The subtlety wasn’t lost on her.

  He may not have murdered Vincenzo, but he was lying about something. Something big. The tiniest inkling of an idea was beginning to form in her mind.

  “If you’re in here, who is running your business?”

  Frankie looked at her as if she had three heads. “You can’t seriously expect me to answer that.”

  “Your house looked deserted yesterday, Mr. Vidoni,” she pressed on. “Where is your family?”

  He frowned.

  “Who is your second in command? I want to talk to him.”

  “Enough.” Frankie sounded angry now.

  Good. That meant she was on the right track. But she wouldn’t learn anything more directly from him, of that she was sure. She needed to dig around elsewhere.

  She stood. “I think we’re done here, Mr. Vidoni.” She motioned to the guard she was ready to leave.

  “Wait, Miss Mancini.” Frankie rose to his feet. “You’ve overstepped by asking too many questions about my family and my business dealings. I believe our association is over.”

  She stared at him, too surprised to say anything. Surely she misunderstood?

  “We’re at a dead end here.” Frankie flexed his fingers, the handcuffs preventing him from doing more than that. “You’re fired.”

  ***

  As soon as Sophia saw Mooch, she let the cat out of the bag.

  “Here’s your precious Precious.” She scooped the furry black ball of fur out of her shopping bag and dropped the kitten into Mooch’s outstretched hands. She pulled a chair up next to his bed so she could watch the love fest.

  Mooch cradled the tiny kitten in his huge, beefy hands. Sophia studied him. His touch was gentle, his tone crooning. She’d already decided that he wasn’t the man who’d murdered Vincenzo. She couldn’t say with absolute certainty that he’d never hurt anyone else, but when Mooch denied killing Vincenzo, he spoke with a sincerity that she didn’t doubt.

  She wished she could say the same thing about Frankie. She’d love to be able to cross him off the suspect list too.“What’s wrong?” Mooch asked, his voice scratchy almost beyond recognition.

  “I don’t know who killed Vincenzo, and it’s driving me mad.” Sophia glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. She hadn’t seen a police officer stationed at the door when she’d entered. “I don’t know how much time we have before a nurse comes in and throws Precious and I out. Why isn’t there an officer outside of your door?”

  Mooch shrugged. “I don’t need one.”

  “Did the police de
cide that, or did you?”

  He shrugged again. Was this how he answered every question?

  “Did Captain McIntyre say why he took the guard off door duty?” she tried again.

  “No.” Mooch cradled the content kitty in one hand, gently stroking it with the other. “But he knows that the person who poisoned me is the one in danger, not me.”

  “So you know who did it?”

  He shook his head. “No. But if I find out, I’d kill him before he could hurt me again.”

  Sophia’s eyes widened. “Good heavens, Mooch. I hope you didn’t say it like that when you talked to the police. And how do you know the person who poisoned you was a man?”

  Mooch knit his brow. “Why would a dame try to eliminate me?”

  “It could just as easily be a woman as a man.” How irritating that he would assume a woman was incapable of murder. History was full of very successful female murderers. She shook her head. She was being irrational. She had to focus.

  “Does it hurt to talk?”

  Mooch shrugged. Again.

  Sophia leaned forward. “Mooch, if we’re going to be friends, you’re going to have to actually talk to me. Using real words. I don’t know what this means.” She shrugged so he would understand exactly what she meant. “Let’s try again. Is it painful to speak?”

  “It don’t hurt too bad.” He pulled the kitten’s tiny claws off of his pajama sleeve. He looked her square in the eye. “But I’m real mad at whoever did this to me.”

  “I am too, Mooch. You didn’t deserve this. No one does. And we have to stop them from doing it again.”

  “How? We don’t know who we’re looking for.”

  “Not yet, no,” she conceded. “I had breakfast with the Iacobellis this morning. They wish you a speedy recovery.”

  “What did Jimmy say?” The words came out as a strangled, tortured sound.

  Even if Mooch didn’t complain, it had to hurt to talk. It hurt to listen.

  Sophia reached for the water pitcher by the bed and poured a glass. She handed it to him, and took Precious in exchange so he could drink. A voice outside the door caught their attention just before the slow turn of the door knob.