by J R Pearson
I pushed that away, and it was replaced with images of the day’s events. Closing my eyes, the images flashed on the back of my eyelids like a drive-in movie screen. What I needed right now was control. I needed to lay out everything that had happened in the past two days. I grabbed a small notepad from the kitchen drawer and began writing.
VICTIMS
Anthony
COD: Shot in the chest with a .22-caliber handgun.
Time: Thursday, around 11:25 a.m.
Luca
COD: ??
Time: Friday
I debated whether or not to call Caleb and ask him if he knew when or how Luca died. After Luca was killed—not sure if he was shot like Anthony—the killer must’ve put him in the tub. I can’t imagine Luca taking a dip fully clothed. I glanced at my cell phone, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to try. On the second ring, Caleb answered.
“Yes, Jennie?”
“How do you know it’s me?” I asked puzzled.
“I saved your number after the first time you called,” he said with a yawn. I didn’t realize how late it was.
“Oh, okay. I’ll just make this quick. When was Luca killed?”
“Luca was killed about an hour before your arrival, so around 1 p.m,” Caleb answered smoothly. I narrowed my eyes at the phone. Too easy. Is this a trap?
“Um… and I’d like to know how he was killed.” I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for a ‘stay out of this’ lecture.
None came.
“He was stabbed in the carotid artery, then pushed into the tub. He may have been held down beneath the water. Essentially, drowning and bleeding to death” he finished, yawning again. “I was expecting you to ask these questions hours ago after I dropped you off. My hotness must have delayed you.” He sounded like he was smiling.
Yep, definitely a trap.
“I’m too tired to pet your ego, Mr. Evans,” I remarked.
He chuckled, then became silent for a beat.
“Remember what curiosity did to the cat, Ms. Peterson,” he said quietly. “I know what you’re doing. I’m good at reading people.”
I snorted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you’re not an easy person to read,” I shot back.
“Good. I’d like to keep it that way. Will that be all for tonight?”
“Have you learned anything new?”
“No, I’m still waiting on West Emily for the phone results. That may take a few days,” he replied. With no other questions, I thanked him for his cooperation. He barked out a laugh.
“Cooperation? The reason I’m even telling you this is so you won’t put yourself at risk by finding out on your own.”
“Good night, Caleb,” I said, ignoring his last remark.
He sighed heavily.
“G’night, Jennie.”
Luca
COD: Stabbed in the neck/put in hot tub
Time: Friday, 1 p.m.
MY CONNECTION
Anthony’s warning
Photo on Luca’s phone
SUSPECTS
None.
MOTIVES
None.
ARE YOU SCREWED?
Absolutely.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, I woke earlier than usual. I wasn’t able to turn off my brain. I kept glancing at my notepad, thinking what other clues I could add to it. At 3 a.m. I finally drifted off. Soon I was going to meet Anthony’s wife, Mrs. Genova. She had to have a missing piece that would fit this complicated puzzle that was her husband’s murder. I was hoping Anthony told his wife who his enemies were, or that someone with beef from his past was popping up again. I pictured them talking over a cup of coffee, Mrs. Genova asking, “How’s work, honey?” “Oh, nothing much, dear,” Anthony responds. “My old classmate what’s-his-face stopped by last night and threatened to kill me. I have a feeling he’ll follow through with it one day. Pass the sugar, please.”
I stood in front of the black hole that was my closet. The weathermen said Greenville was going to have another hot day. I dug into the bowels of my closet to see what outfit I had that was both weather- and memorial service-permitting.
Playing devil’s advocate, could the killer be Mrs. Genova?
Police always looked at the spouse first, right? Maybe things weren’t all sunshine and rainbows in their marriage. A simple disagreement turned into a very heated argument that ended in sudden tragedy. I wanted to run with that, but my gut refused to agree. Why would Anthony tell me to watch out for his wife? I’d never met the woman. I knew for sure both Anthony’s and Luca’s murders were connected, and I, questionably, was the common denominator. Mrs. Genova having a part in it just didn’t make sense. Unless she did and I hadn’t figured out what it was yet.
This was exactly why I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Giving up on finding an outfit, which I didn’t need until hours from now, I went into the kitchen. I noticed a note, left by Mandy, on the counter.
-went on a quick run. Be back soon.-
Meatball Mandy? Running? That’s strange. The weatherman didn’t mention Hell being frozen over.
An hour later, as I was loading the dishwasher, Mandy stumbled in. She wore a light blue tank top, khaki mini skirt, and hot pink flip-flops. Not exactly exercise attire.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested in getting in shape. I’m proud of you.” I smiled at my best friend. She looked confused.
“Getting in shape? What-oh! I meant a quick run on an errand. I went to Danny’s to get us some breakfast subs.” She set a white paper bag on the kitchen table. Danny’s breakfast subs consisted of a toasted roll, a sage sausage patty sitting on a bed of scrambled eggs, and blanketed with cheddar cheese. Red and green peppers added color and extra flavor.
“Bless your soul.” I took a heavenly bite. Oh, sweet-honey-baby-dumpling, this is damn good. “Wait a second. Danny’s is right around the corner. Why’d it take you so long?”
“Mmmmbbm-mmbm.” Her mouth full, she stopped to swallow. “Sorry, I was saying last night Josh told me his brother Arnold, who works at Danny’s, told him that they’re giving away free hash browns for one hour, today only.”
“That’s just asking for trouble,” I said, refilling our coffee mugs.
“That’s what I said. Anyway, the line was crazy long. It reached all the way to Monique’s Boutique. While I was waiting, I saw Monique’s new collection of shorts was up, and from what I saw in the windows, they were all small sizes. I’m thinking, really? More tight-ass booty shorts for those who don’t even have one? So naturally, I started banging the hell out of that window, demanding Monique to carry larger sizes for more voluptuous women like us. And boy, did that get the crowd going. Everybody started chanting “More ass! More ass!” By the time I got out of Danny’s, people had made signs and a woman stood on a car hood, yelling into a bullhorn. I left when the cops showed up. Detective Hot Bod was there.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Overall, I think it’s been a very productive morning. So you still should be proud of me. Hash browns and boycotts.” She beamed, then continued eating.
“I am. Speaking of hash browns, where are they?” I peered into the paper bag. Mandy’s face turned red, eyes not meeting mine.
“Uh, I guess I ate all of it while I was watching the protest.”
“You guess?”
“So sue me, Jennie! Do you know how many calories I lost by just standing in line? I needed to replenish my body. I learned each time you don’t replace calories within an hour after losing them, your body’s natural balance will be affected and you’ll subject yourself to walking crooked for the rest of your life,” she finished her horribly inaccurate excuse. I shook my head but, humoring myself, I asked where she got her information from.
“The Internet.”
I threw a ketchup packet at her.
Enzo’s parking lot was packed. I had to park across the street at Watch em’ Now movie rentals. Before I left my apartment, Debbie texted me saying the service h
ad been moved into the restaurant due to the humidity. I guess the police let it slide. I replied, asking if there was any word of Enzo’s being opened to the public again. She said no. I trekked to the restaurant with little issue in my one-inch heels. Under a pile of yearbooks, I found my old graduation dress, a black sleeveless shift. It was plain, yet appropriate for the service. Don’t ask if I did anything to my hair. I left the beast alone.
I crossed the threshold of Enzo’s and a sharp chill shot down my spine as goose bumps broke out on my arms. I would be lying if I said Thursday morning was a blur. Finding Anthony lying on the floor, life escaping just as blood escaped his body, was clear as day in my mind.
Everyone was seated in the larger dining area on the other side of the restaurant, farther away from the kitchen. I craned my neck to see the kitchen doorway, which was blocked with police tape, then glanced at the back hallway. That’s where the employee break room and manager’s office was located. I couldn’t think of a reason the police would block off Anthony’s office.
I wonder—
“Jennie!” Debbie called, waving. “Reverend Billings is about to start.”
At some point, I’ll have to find a way to get inside the office. Maybe a clue could be there. Yes, I said clue. If I’m gonna be a half-assed sleuth, I need to start using terms as such.
I sat next to Debbie and another waiter. A large wreath stood at the front of the room, a sash saying “Farewell Old Friend” draped across it. Next to it, a close-up photo of Anthony. The sight of his happy face made me sad all over again. Reverend Billings spoke quietly to a short and wide Mrs. Genova, who dabbed her eyes with a tissue. I scanned the room some more. Other employees wiped at their eyes and nose. Ashley, the woman whose shift I covered, comforted a young hostess, her face sad but healthy. I was glad to see she was well again.
Alone at a table sat a very attractive woman. I didn’t recognize her. She wore a tight cheetah print dress, displaying copious amount of cleavage. Long dark waves cascaded past her shoulders, her lips big and painted a glossy red. I nudged Debbie.
“Who’s she?” I asked, tilting my head in the woman’s direction.
“Maria. Pretty messed up for her to show up.” Debbie gave Maria a disgusted look.
“Why?” I watched Maria flip her hair.
Debbie leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Because she’s—or I should say used to be—Anthony’s mistress.”
“His what!” I accidentally shouted. A wave of glares and shushes came my way. “He-he’s married,” I sputtered. “Are we even talking about the same man?”
“It’s true.” Debbie nodded.
“Does his wife know?”
Debbie nodded again, her ponytail bobbing up and down. Being speechless was an understatement. Around us everyone quieted as Reverend Billings started the service. My attention jumped from Mrs. Genova’s tear-streaked face to Maria primping hers in a compact mirror. Then I stared at Anthony’s photo.
Who are you?
“And here his wife has put together a memorial, honoring him,” I whispered.
“Don’t let the tears fool you,” Debbie said. “She isn’t the sweet little ol’ lady she portrays. I used to hear her scream at him several times in his office.”
“Scream about what?” I inquired, thinking of my earlier assumption of the Genovas’ marriage.
“Just recently, the subject was about Maria. She popped up a week ago—” Debbie stopped when Reverend Billings asked for a brief moment of silence. Moment over, I asked how Anthony met Maria. As if tasting something sour, Debbie’s face twisted.
“They met at Cha Cha’s”
“What’s Anthony doing at a place like that?”
“Not sure, but I heard that’s where Maria works.” Cha Cha’s was a skeevy bar located off the stretch going toward West Emily, hosting shady passersby while being served by women parading around in skimpy outfits. Not my typical hangout, though I’d heard about it.
“Obviously Anthony was having some sort of midlife crisis,” Debbie stated. Mrs. Genova began to tell stories about her and Anthony being high school sweethearts and his love of cooking.
“Their last blowup was a shocker,” Debbie whispered.
“What’s more shocking than finding out your husband is cheating on you with a younger woman?” I countered.
“Finding out your husband has cut you of his will,” she revealed.
I felt my eyebrows touch my hairline.
“When was this?”
“Wednesday night.”
Up front, I caught Mrs. Genova staring at me. She quickly looked away, though not before I saw something other than grief pass her eyes.
“Next morning he gets murdered?” Debbie also watched Mrs. Genova. “Sounds pretty sketchy to me.”
I wondered where the grieving widow was during the time of her husband’s murder.
Chapter Eight
The reverend closed out the service with another moment of silence. Shelly, an assistant cook, brought out a platter of tomato crostinis to share, an appetizer we served at Enzo’s. Sliced cherry tomatoes, mozzarella, drizzled in balsamic vinaigrette, garnished with fresh basil, all atop small, round toasted bread. I regretfully refrained from eating any because I needed to talk to both the mistress and wife.
Reverend Billings took Mrs. Genova’s arm, heading toward the door. Crap, they’re leaving. Maria stood and made her way to the restrooms. Wait, this could work. A woman like her is bound to take longer in the bathroom. Once I’m done talking to Mrs. Genova, I’ll catch up with Maria. I ducked and weaved through everyone. Outside Reverend Billings gently helped the older woman into her car.
“Excuse me, Reverend. I’d like to give my condolences to Mrs. Genova,” I told the blank-faced reverend. “In private,” I clarified.
“Of course. That’s very kind of you, Ms. Peterson. It’s been a while since I saw you at a Sunday service. Your mother worries, you know?” He arched a brow. Good grief.
“She always does. It was nice seeing you, Rev.” I waved. He parted Mrs. Genova with another round of sympathies, gave me a disapproving look, and then walked away.
“I appreciate you coming…?” she trailed off, waiting.
“Oh, it’s Jennie. I’m really sorry your loss, Mrs. Genova.”
“Thank you.” She sniffed. I had a small window of opportunity to talk to Maria and search Anthony’s office. I needed to cut right to the chase.
“Do you have any idea who would kill your husband?” Despite my blunt question, I made sure not to sound harsh. Mrs. Genova wrinkled her forehead thinking hard.
“I’m afraid not. My husband is-was a very loving man,” she answered.
He sure was….
“Mrs.—”
“Call me Angela.” She smiled.
“Okay, uh, Angela, I was the one who found your husband and he—”
“You poor thing!” Angela reached out and patted my arm “You didn’t need to see that. Nobody should. Oh, my Anthony!” Angela took out a tissue to blow her nose. I shifted my feet, getting nowhere fast.
“Angela.”
“It’s Angie dear,” she corrected.
I suppressed pulling out my hair.
“Your husband told me to watch my back before he died. Do you know what he meant by that?” I inquired.
She shook her head, her gray hair staying put in its tight bun.
“I’m sorry to say I don’t. I didn’t make it a habit to know my husband’s business,”
“Not even when it came to Maria?” Aw, dammmmmmn. The question slipped before I could stop it. Angie’s soft, saddened face hardened with anger.
“That fake-boobed slut ruined everything Anthony and I built in the last forty years!” Angie’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “We planned on fixing what that hussy broke. Well, at least I did. He wanted to move on. He said Maria made him feel young again. Young? Really?” She snorted. “Only his brain wanted to be young. His old-as-dirt penis said
otherwise.”
Yeah, I just gagged a little. I hesitated before responding. “Anthony wanted a divorce,” I guessed.
Angie’s face slowly dropped again.
“Yes,” she said, defeated. I began to feel sorry for the woman. Repeatedly being hit by betrayal from a man she loved for decades. A part of me wanted to send her on her way, and another part wanted to continue to push.
“Why did Anthony cut you out of the will?”
I jumped when Angie slammed her fist on the steering wheel, hitting the car horn.
“Because of Maria! He wanted to give her everything!” she yelled, then started the car. “I’m not saying anything else. I don’t know where you’re getting this information from, but you need to mind your own business, young lady.”
“But—”
“Maybe you should take my husband’s advice and watch it.” She tore out of the parking lot, nearly flattening my toes.
“That was wicked rude,” Debbie said, appearing next to me. I could only nod. Angie’s departing words left my body shaking. The woman definitely had a motive for killing her husband in plain black and white. I pivoted to the restaurant. Now to get Maria’s side of the story. Around Debbie and me, employees started to leave.
“Do you see Maria?”
“I did. She left already. Her car was parked by the back exit. I guess she didn’t want things to get ugly with Mrs. G.” Debbie cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at me. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s a long story.” Behind Debbie I saw Shelly start to lock the doors.
The office!
I ran up to Shelly, with Debbie on my heels. “I have to go back inside,” I said to the cook.
“Can’t. I’m to immediately lock up after the service. The new detective said so,” Shelly explained.
“Jennie has to pee!” Debbie cut in. “Really bad. You know how pregnant women get.”
I jerked around to Debbie.