by Peg Cochran
“You know Sal who got stabbed?” Lucille asked.
Nicole nodded. “He owned the pizza joint across the street.”
“Yeah, we—me and Flo here—are investigating like. On account of Sal’s mother asked my mother to ask me to see what I could do.”
Nicole looked slightly confused, then she burst out laughing. “The two of you?” She pointed to Flo and Lucille. “You’re playing detective? That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. That cop was right. You don’t just do crazy things, you are crazy.”
Now Lucille was really pissed off, but she didn’t want to offend Nicole so she didn’t say nothing.
“So how can I help?” Nicole asked.
“We want to eliminate Rocky as a suspect,” Lucille explained. “So we was hoping you could tell us where he was when the murder took place. It was sometime after noon on Monday.”
“Monday? Let me think.” Nicole put a finger to her lips. “Yeah, now I remember. That was the day Rocky had his colonoscopy. He wanted me to take him, but I told him flat out no. I said go ask your ex-wife. He’s been paying her alimony for years while she sits on her butt and paints her nails. Let her earn her keep for once.”
“You’re sure he was there all day?”
“Yeah. His appointment was at nine in the morning, but they didn’t take him in until after twelve o’clock. He was really pissed off since he was starving from eating nothing but liquids for two days.”
Lucille and Flo glanced at each other. That ruled Rocky out. Lucille hadn’t had a colonoscopy yet, but she’d taken her mother for hers, and her mother had been knocked out for the rest of the day.
“Is that all you wanted to ask me?” Nicole stood with her hand on her car door.
“Yeah. And listen, we’re sorry we scared you.”
“That’s okay. It was kind of fun actually having the cops come out like that. It’ll give me something to tell my girlfriends.”
Lucille and Flo waved as Nicole drove off.
“What now?” Flo looked at Lucille.
Lucille’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “Home. I’m going to put on my fuzzy slippers, put my feet up and watch some television.”
“Good idea.” Flo got behind the wheel. “I’m going to do the same.” She started the car. “But throw in a highball. I need it.”
Chapter 9
Lucille was glad that Frankie wasn’t home yet when she pulled into the driveway. She didn’t want to have to go explaining to him what she was doing out at this time of night. Not that it was all that late, but by now she would normally be relaxing in front of the television, especially since tonight was one of her favorite shows.
The whole thing had been worth it though—they could cross Rocky off their list of suspects. Lucille took off her shoes and slid her feet into the slippers she always left by the door to the garage.
Thank goodness Gabe had been on duty tonight. There’s no telling what those cops might have done if he hadn’t been there. Lucille was still a little miffed that he called her adventures crazy, but if it weren’t for him, she’d be handcuffed and in the backseat of a police car by now and on her way to the county jail. Try explaining that one to Frankie.
Lucille was making herself a cup of tea when she heard Frankie pull in. He burst through the door and grabbed Lucille around the waist.
“Frankie, you scared me.”
“Sorry, babe, but I’m so excited. I’ve got this really great idea.”
Lucille frowned. Some of Frankie’s great ideas had been less than great. Like the time he got a great deal on a small boat someone was selling down the shore, and it sank the first time he took it out, and the Coast Guard had to rescue him. “What is it?”
“Seriously, babe, you’re going to love it.”
“Okay.” Lucille still wasn’t convinced.
“How about we go to Vegas? We’ve been talking about it for years. Let’s do it.”
“But Frankie, the cost—”
Frank held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. The business is going great, and so what if we charge a couple of things? I heard on the news that the average credit card debt for an American family these days is over seven thousand dollars. We got zero debt on our cards.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Lucille folded her arms across her chest.
“Aww, come on, Lu. It’s time we had some fun. At least think about it, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it.”
Frankie went down to the rec room to turn on the television and Lucille sat in the kitchen drinking her tea. What had gotten into Frankie? They’d always been so careful with their money. She opened a Christmas savings account every year at the bank and put a little money aside each week so that they wouldn’t go into debt buying all them presents. And now he wanted to charge a trip to Vegas.
Lucille was rinsing out her cup when the thought struck her. She knew why Frankie suggested they go to Vegas. He thought she was going to die.
• • •
Later, Lucille lay in bed waiting for Frank to get out of the bathroom. He had told her not to worry about tomorrow’s test. That it was nothing, and everything was going to be okay. But obviously he didn’t believe that himself. Why else would he suddenly suggest they go into debt to go to Vegas? It wasn’t like him. And just last week he was complaining about business being on the slow side. It couldn’t have picked up all that much in just a couple of days.
It had to be that he thought she had cancer and was going to die. Lucille’s heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest. Wouldn’t it be funny if the test turned out fine, but she died of a heart attack before she even had it done. She couldn’t wait to get tomorrow over with.
The bathroom door opened and Frankie turned out the light and slipped into bed.
“You asleep, Lu?” he whispered in the dark.
“No.” Lucille turned on her side so she was facing him.
Frank ran his hand up her leg, over her hips and to her chest. Lucille snuggled closer.
“You feel anything?”
“Yeah. It feels good,” Frank whispered.
“No, I mean like any bumps or lumps or anything like that.”
Frank dropped his hand and leaned up on his elbows. “Would you quit worrying, Lu? Everything’s going to be fine. The doctor said so.”
“Doctors always say that. Of course, they’re not worried. It’s not happening to them.”
Frank put his arms around Lucille. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together, okay?”
• • •
Lucille was too nervous to eat any breakfast. By the time she was through at the clinic, it would be lunchtime. She’d get a bite then. She patted her stomach. That ought to give this here diet a jumpstart. She was pretty sure she’d lost weight already, although whether it was from the diet or worrying, she wasn’t sure.
It was gray out with dark, heavy clouds moving swiftly in the chilly breeze. Lucille looked up at the sky. Was there really a heaven up there somewhere? Her whole life she’d believed that there was. And that they’d all be together forever—her and Frankie, Bernadette and the baby. Lucille’s stomach turned over, and she was sure glad she hadn’t eaten nothing. If Bernadette didn’t get little Lucy baptized, she wasn’t going to heaven. At least not according to what Lucille had learned in catechism class. They had a special place for babies that hadn’t been christened—it was nice enough, but it wasn’t heaven. She would have to talk to Bernadette again.
Once again the Olds didn’t want to turn over. Probably the damp weather was causing her to seize up. Lucille was turning the key for the third time when Frankie came out of the house. He was going in to work late today. He leaned against the car, and Lucille buzzed down the window.
“I think we need to get you a new car, Lu. I saw one of them Mini Coopers on the road yesterday and thought you would like it. They’re as cute as a button.”
Lucille set her jaw. “I don’t want no Mini C
ooper. The Olds is fine. She’s just cold on account of it suddenly turning so chilly.”
“I know you love her, but I worry all the time that you’re going to break down somewhere and be stuck.”
“We got AA, remember? I can always call for a tow if I need it, and we won’t have to pay.”
Frankie slapped the roof of the car. “If you’re sure . . .” He leaned in the window and kissed Lucille. “Good luck. Call me when you’re done, okay?”
“Sure, sure.”
Lucille turned the key, and this time the Olds started up just fine. She put it in reverse and backed out of the driveway.
She almost ran the red light at the corner of Springfield and South Street but managed to stop at the last second. She sat with her hands shaking on the wheel. She had to get a grip on her nerves or she was going to kill herself or someone else.
There were quite a few cars in the parking lot of the clinic when Lucille pulled in. She found a spot in the back and locked the Olds.
She first had to register at the circular reception desk, where several gals sat on swivel chairs doing paperwork or dealing with the computer. Lucille leaned her elbows on the counter and waited for one of them to look up.
The door opened and the smell of pizza drifted in. Lucille turned around to see Joey, from Rocco’s Pizza Parlor, approaching with a couple of pizza boxes in his hands. He glanced at Lucille and she was glad that he didn’t seem to recognize her.
One of the girls got out her wallet and handed Joey some money in exchange for the pizzas.
Lucille motioned toward the boxes. “How do you like Rocco’s pizza?”
“This is the first time we’re trying it.” She leaned closer to Lucille. “We used to order from Sal’s all the time, but when I called them, I was told the number had been disconnected.” She shrugged. “I thought they did pretty well. But I suppose it had something to do with Sal, the owner, being murdered.”
“We used to go to Sal’s, too,” Lucille said. “It’s a real shame about Sal. The police still haven’t figured out who did it. At least I haven’t seen nothing in the papers.”
One of the other girls swiveled her chair around so she was facing Lucille. “I think it was a jealous husband.” She turned and looked over her shoulder then beckoned Lucille closer. “He was having an affair, you know.”
“Who, Sal?”
The girl nodded. She fiddled with the hoop in her ear. “My girlfriend told me.”
“Really?” By now Lucille had completely forgotten about being nervous about the test. “How did she know? Did she work there?”
“Not at the pizza place, no. She cleaned for Sal and his wife once a week. That’s how she found out.”
“Any idea who he was having the affair with?”
“She didn’t know. At least I don’t think so. I didn’t ask her.”
“Do you think she’d mind if I called her and asked her casual like?”
“I don’t think so. She’s laid up with a broken leg and pretty bored. She was riding on the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle, and they had an accident.” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t get me on one of those things.”
“Me, neither,” Lucille agreed. “Frankie—he’s my husband—had a third cousin once removed who had one of them bikes and managed to kill himself.”
The girl who had purchased the pizzas turned to look at them. “Maybe it wasn’t a jealous husband. Maybe it was Sal’s wife who was jealous. I know I’d kill my husband if I found out he was cheating on me. No way I’d stand for that.”
She looked too young to be married, Lucille thought. Like maybe she was still in high school. But everyone looked young to her these days. She supposed by the time she hit her eighties, she’d look at someone the age she is now and think they were young.
“That’s true,” the other girl said. “Maybe the wife got jealous and they argued.”
A nurse who was standing behind the desk turned around. She looked to be in her late thirties and had a clipboard clutched to her chest. “Everyone has always thought Sal married Tiffany out of pity. Because of that car accident. I still remember hearing about it. Some girl was killed and the driver of the car Sal and Tiffany were riding in went to jail.”
Sheesh, Lucille thought. Jail? “But if it was an accident,” Lucille said, “how come he went to jail? People have accidents all the time.” She sure as hell hoped she never got in an accident.
The nurse put down her clipboard. “They were drag racing. The police estimated they hit that tree going a hundred miles per hour.”
“So maybe Sal felt trapped after all these years with Tiffany. Especially if he didn’t really want to marry her in the first place,” Lucille said and they both nodded. “And he decided to spice things up a bit by going outside his marriage.”
“You should call my friend Melissa.” The one girl handed Lucille a piece of paper with a phone number and address on it. “Maybe she knows something.”
Just then another nurse came out and called Lucille’s name. Lucille felt like she was going to the guillotine—her heart pounding and palms sweating—but before she knew it she was back in the Olds and roaring out of the parking lot.
She figured she’d go over and visit this Melissa the receptionist had told her about. She couldn’t call her—she didn’t have one of them cell phones. The one Frankie got her fell in the toilet, and she was more than glad to be rid of it. She could barely make out the numbers on the thing, and when it rang, by the time she found it in her purse the person had already hung up.
If this poor girl was stuck at home with a broken leg, she’d probably appreciate something to pass the time. Lucille decided she’d go to the A&P and pick up some of those gossipy magazines like the National Enquirer and People. She knew when she was sick she didn’t want to read nothing too heavy.
Lucille pulled into the A&P parking lot, parked the Olds and went inside. While she was there, she ought to get some kind of snack to take with her. To ease the way, so to speak. She spied a bag of corn chips. Corn ought to be on her diet. Surely the cavemen grew corn. She knew the Indians did.
Lucille checked out with her purchases and headed back to her car. She sat there for a minute glancing through the magazines she’d bought. It looked like JLo had herself a new boy toy, and Jennifer Aniston was supposedly pregnant again. Lucille had to laugh. What the press was calling a baby bump was probably a good, healthy Italian meal—some stuffed shells, a little escarole soup, all followed by tiramisu for dessert . . . or it could be constipation. Lucille knew that she was always bloated when she got backed up.
She closed the magazines, put them on the seat beside her, and headed toward the Gales Drive apartments where this Melissa lived.
Chapter 10
Lucille pulled up in front of one of the apartment buildings on the right side of Gales Drive and got out. There were a few dry leaves in the gutter—soon they would have all turned color and then they’d be all over the ground. The thought put Lucille in mind of Thanksgiving. She couldn’t wait for the turkey and all the trimmings. By then she should have lost enough weight to go off her diet.
She rang the bell of apartment number five and waited. She could hear a thumping noise, and then Melissa swung open the door. Her left leg was encased in plaster, and she was balancing on a pair of crutches.
“You must be Lucille,” she said, tottering on one leg.
“Yeah. Did your friend call and tell you I was coming?”
“She did. Said it was about Sal Zambino.” She stepped aside. “Come on in. I could do with some company. Being here alone all day is pretty boring. I used to think it would be great to have time off work to watch the soaps and some of those daytime talk shows, but I gotta tell you, it’s not all it’s made out to be.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know what you mean. That’s why I work part-time in the office over at St. Rocco’s. My Frankie didn’t want me to have to work, but with our daughter grown, I figured why not bring in some extra money? It alw
ays comes in handy.” She thrust the copies of the National Enquirer and People at Melissa. “Here. I brought you some magazines on account of I figured you were probably bored being stuck inside and all.”
“Thanks.” Melissa peered at the covers. “Do you think Jennifer Aniston is really pregnant? She’s got that new boyfriend and all.”
“Nah, I think she just ate a big meal.”
Melissa nodded. “I don’t think I can manage these and these horrible crutches. Can you throw them on the coffee table?” She pointed toward the living room. “Come in and have a seat.” she called over her shoulder.
Lucille followed her and got comfortable on the sofa. The television was on but the sound was muted. Some soap opera was playing that Lucille didn’t recognize. Must be a new one—she stuck with the tried and true herself.
She handed Melissa the bag of corn chips. “I thought maybe you could go for a snack.” Her own stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t had no breakfast that morning.
“Thanks.” Melissa put the chips on the sofa beside her.
Lucille looked at the bag longingly. Wasn’t Melissa going to open them? She should have bought herself some to have on the way home. She’d go back to the A&P after and get a bag for herself and maybe one for Bernadette. After all, since she was nursing, she had to keep her strength up.
“So I guess you used to work for this Sal Zambino, the guy who owned the pizza parlor over on Springfield Avenue,” Lucille said, still eyeing the chips.
“Yeah. I cleaned for him and his wife. That’s how I got this.” She gestured toward her cast. “Their damn cat tripped me, and I went flying down their basement stairs. They said they’d do right by me, but I haven’t seen a penny so far and now with Sal gone . . .”
Lucille nodded sympathetically. She couldn’t get her mind off the chips. How could Melissa let them just sit there?
“So your friend tells me that Sal was having an affair.”
Melissa nodded, her eyes getting wide. “I caught them once—what do they call it—in fragrance delicto.”