by Mary Ellis
‘Good idea.’ Jill set their water glasses in the small sink undamaged by the fire. Then she suddenly turned back around. ‘Do you fear reprisals from Salvatore’s sons?’
Eric stopped in his tracks. ‘I don’t fear anyone, but I also don’t want you and Nonni alone without the security system working. I’m staying here until Sal’s killer is caught.’
Jill glanced away the moment their eyes met. ‘I’m sure your grandmother will appreciate you around. We’ll talk more tomorrow.’
When she headed upstairs, Eric went to his office and pulled out the sofa bed. Exhausted, he fell into a dead sleep without making up the bed or getting out of his clothes. What had his father done this time?
The next morning, Eric had a crick in his neck and a sour taste in his mouth. At least he kept an extra shaving kit and change of clothes in the employee lounge. After showering in Nonni’s bathroom, he sat down to wait for the inspector with a full pot of coffee. He was down to the last cup when the Fire Marshal arrived, along with two technicians and the crime lab van. Eric wasn’t permitted to watch them work, so he caught up with paperwork in the office. Three hours later, the marshal knocked on his office door to take Eric’s statement even though he’d already given one to the fire chief. The marshal would issue his conclusion within forty-eight hours.
Eric followed him out the door to the parking area. Jill’s car was already gone. Briefly he had considered knocking on her door earlier but changed his mind. Jill rented a suite from him. She hadn’t signed on to be part of their family drama.
When Eric reached his parents’ home and spotted two cars in the garage, a wave of relief swept over him. But that relief was short lived. Irena Manfredi stepped on to the front stoop when he was halfway up the walk.
‘Enrique, I’m so glad you’re here.’ Her flawless complexion was mottled with tears.
‘What’s wrong? Where’s Dad?’
‘He’s in his study.’ When Eric tried to step around her, his mother grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Two Charleston police detectives just left. They asked your father questions … about … Salvatore’s … murder.’ Her words were a broken staccato.
Eric took his mother gently by the shoulders and led her to the couch. ‘That’s to be expected. They will talk to everyone who saw Sal that day.’
‘But the things Al said inside Tuscan Gardens, in front of witnesses …’ Her face crumpled into tears.
Eric patted her back as though she were a child. ‘That only proves they had a fight, nothing more. You know Dad would never hurt anyone.’
Mutely, Irena focused on the porcelain vase holding a dozen yellow roses.
‘Why don’t you make us some iced tea?’ he asked. ‘I’ll go and to talk to Dad.’
When she nodded and tottered away on high heels, Eric marched down the hall to Alfonzo’s office. No one entered his private domain without an invitation, which were few and far between.
Eric pushed open the door without bothering to knock. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’
Seated behind his massive black walnut desk, Alfonzo peered up with deep creases beneath his red-rimmed eyes. ‘By all means, son, come in and make yourself comfortable.’
Eric shut the door and pulled one of the chairs close to his father. ‘Good afternoon, sir. Now if you would please answer my question. It’s just you and me.’
‘I went there to talk sense to Sal, to stop the animosity between our families. There’s enough dinner clientele for both of us in this town.’
‘And you thought accusing him of trying to burn down your restaurant would be a good start?’
Alfonzo pounded the desk with his fist. ‘Who could have done such a thing but a Borelli?’
‘Gosh, I don’t know. Maybe one of a dozen other competitors or maybe just a sicko who likes starting fires.’ Eric couldn’t seem to control his sarcasm.
‘It wasn’t just the fire. What about the robbery and the big mess in my alley? I know Salvatore was behind all of it!’
Eric leaned back in his chair. ‘Your hatred has poisoned your judgment. What exactly did you tell the police?’
‘That I didn’t do it and that they should get out of my house!’
‘You and Sal were seen arguing in the restaurant and on the street. What are people supposed to think?’
‘People should take my word for it. The Manfredis are law-abiding citizens. It’s the Borellis who have bad blood running through their veins.’
Eric sighed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. ‘Please, don’t talk to the police again without an attorney present. And not that same lawyer who looks over your tax returns. A criminal lawyer. I’ll make some calls and we’ll talk later.’ He jumped up and headed to the door.
‘I didn’t shoot Salvatore, son.’
Eric glanced back at a man who’d aged a dozen years during the last week. ‘I know that, Papa, but plenty of innocent people go to jail every day. I don’t want you to be one of them.’
ELEVEN
Jill couldn’t wait to get out of her suite that morning. She skipped her morning exercise routine, skipped her Cheerios with berries, and made do with a single cup of coffee. As much as she liked Eric and had even grown fond of his family, the last thing she needed was to get tangled up in a murder investigation. Of all the bizarre luck, she thought. She didn’t want to be interviewed by the police with the chance of some hot-shot reporter asking her questions. When you’re running from your past, you don’t want your picture appearing in any newspaper. And you don’t get tangled up with a handsome chef whose family history sounded like a Mario Puzo movie script. So she crept silently down the stairs like a thief fleeing a crime and didn’t call her client until halfway down the block.
‘Good morning, Mr Sugarman. I’d like to give you an update on the case.’
‘Excellent, Miss Wyatt. Why don’t you stop by the house? The children don’t have school today.’
His suggestion sent a cold shiver up Jill’s spine. ‘No, why don’t you and the kids meet me at the University Medical Center? Then I can speak with Mrs Sugarman too.’
‘Very well. We’ll see you there. We were planning to spend the whole day at the hospital.’
As Jill parked in the visitor lot, the Sugarmans’ van pulled in two spots away. What timing! Bobby and Joan spotted her as soon as Jill climbed out of her car.
‘Hi, Jill!’ cried Joan. The child ran headlong toward her despite her father’s admonition.
‘That kind of rash act can get you killed, young lady,’ David Sugarman admonished. ‘You didn’t even check for cars.’
‘Sorry, Daddy.’ Joan tried to hide a stuffed animal behind her back, but she wasn’t quick enough.
‘And I told you not to bring Mr Bugs to the hospital.’ He yanked the toy from her hands and threw it in the van.
When Joan burst into tears, Jill picked the child up in her arms. ‘You’ll see Mr Bugs later. Right now, let’s go visit your mom.’ Jill shifted Joan to her hip, took Bobby by the hand, and headed toward to the entrance. How could a father upset his daughter right before visiting his dying wife?
David frowned but said nothing as they crossed the lobby and entered the elevator. Then he looked down his nose at Jill. ‘Stuffed animals can harbor germs and viruses, Miss Wyatt. Don’t you realize how tenuous Charlotte’s condition is?’
‘I do, but I also know you can throw Mr Bugs into the washer with hot water or into the freezer overnight. Either should take care of any bacteria.’
‘Are you speaking from experience?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t know you had children.’
‘I don’t, but you’d be surprised what you can learn on the internet.’ With that, neither spoke until the foursome reached the nurses’ station on Charlotte’s floor. Then Jill set Joan down and said, ‘Bobby, would you please take your sister to the playroom? I’d like to speak to your mom and dad alone.’
David waited until they left and then practically exploded. ‘You seem to be taki
ng charge here, Miss Wyatt. I’m not comfortable with you making decisions for my family.’
‘Look, with all due respect. You’re the one who put me in the middle of not one, but two family crises. I’m doing the best I can, so trust me to do my job.’
‘By all means.’ David swept his hand in the direction of his wife’s room. After scrubbing up, Jill and David donned masks and entered Charlotte’s room with big smiles. ‘Hello, darling. How are you feeling?’
‘I’m better today. I see you brought Miss Wyatt.’
‘Hi, Mrs Sugarman,’ greeted Jill.
‘Actually, she brought me. Jill has news for us.’ Crossing his arms, David leaned against the window ledge.
In her pale face Charlotte’s eyes sparkled. ‘Come sit by me, Jill.’
Jill complied, scooting the chair as close as possible. ‘I found your biological sister. She’s married and lives on a farm outside the town of Orchard. I suppose the closest city would be Columbia. Her name is Emma and she has three kids, one of which is a baby.’ Jill purposely omitted their last name.
‘Does she look—’ A coughing spasm interrupted Charlotte’s question.
‘Look like you?’ Jill finished for her. ‘Yes, I would say so. Quite a bit actually.’
‘Is the woman healthy?’ David asked. ‘Does she smoke or is she grossly overweight? Because either of those could impede a transplant.’
Jill turned to him with a frown. ‘Emma looked to be in perfect health. Please save your questions for the end, Mr Sugarman.’
The corners of Charlotte’s mouth pulled up into a smile. ‘Continue, please.’
‘I told her about you and that you needed a new liver. She was very sorry to hear that and said she would pray for your restored health.’
‘Is she willing to have her blood tested?’ David couldn’t seem to help himself.
Jill didn’t turn around a second time. ‘I asked her that specifically. She said it wouldn’t do any good even if she was a match.’ Jill took hold of Charlotte’s hand. ‘Emma belongs to the Christian Science church. They don’t go to doctors or hospitals, or receive blood transfusions or immunizations. They pray instead and put their lives in God’s hands. They don’t have pastors, but the First Reader will ask the whole church to pray for you.’
‘Well, there’s our answer then.’ Charlotte smiled at her husband with complete composure. ‘Thank you, Jill, for finding my sister and pleading my case. You’ve done everything we asked for and I’m grateful.’
David, however, wasn’t quite so obliged. ‘That’s it? She won’t even have the blood test?’
Since socking the man in the nose would upset Charlotte, Jill rose to her feet. ‘Why don’t we finish talking outside and let your wife get some rest?’
David stalked from the room and down the hallway ten paces with Jill on his heels. ‘Why can’t the woman just get tested? If she’s worried about money, I’ll pay any expenses she incurs.’
‘Money isn’t the issue. Emma’s church normally doesn’t allow medical intervention.’
‘What do you mean normally?’ he asked.
‘After reading up on this denomination, I tracked down a member of her church. He said the tenets of the Church of Christ, Scientist don’t specifically forbid a member from being a transplant donor or a recipient. That decision would be left up to the individual.’
David gasped. ‘So her church won’t stand in her way?’
‘No, but the man who reads Scripture won’t encourage Emma either. He will explain the tenets of their religion and then leave the choice up to her. Remember, it’s fundamental to their faith that all Christians need is prayer to be healed.’
‘Give me their address. Let me talk to her husband. Once he hears from another husband and father, he’ll help his wife make the right decision.’
‘Absolutely not, Mr Sugarman. I promised to respect Emma’s privacy.’
‘Look, Miss Wyatt, I signed a contract with your agency and paid the advance. If I must, I’ll sue Price Investigations. I’m entitled to the information I’m paying for.’
‘Calm down. Allow this Reader from her church to talk to her and then give Emma time to think it over.’
‘My wife doesn’t have time. Without a donor, the hospital wants to move her from intensive care to hospice. People don’t come home from hospice.’ David’s angry eyes filled with moisture.
‘Just give it a few days,’ Jill said, fighting back her own tears.
‘Two days, Miss Wyatt. If I don’t hear from you on Tuesday, I’m calling Nate Price and my lawyer.’ He stomped down the hallway toward the playroom.
Unable to face the Sugarman children in the elevator or parking lot, Jill hurried to the nearest stairs to exit the hospital. She had no idea what she was doing. Was the client legally entitled to the Norrises’ name and address? Would Nate fire her when he heard about this? Nothing in Beth’s training had prepared her for this. All she had was gut instinct and a few prayers of her own.
Beth. Sound advice might only be two hours to the south. Beth said to call her if Jill ever needed help. Jill jumped into the Toyota and set the GPS for Savannah, Georgia. How busy could Beth and Michael be on a Saturday to not make time for a friend in need?
Eric knew having the entire Manfredi extended family over for an afternoon potluck was a major mistake. For one thing the restaurant’s kitchen remained a disaster. Although the Fire Marshal hadn’t officially issued his report, he had released the area as a potential crime site, so there was little doubt as to his conclusion. Restaurant staff began cleaning last night, but it would be days before a contractor could start reconstruction. Why couldn’t they skip a few Sundays until Bella Trattoria was fully up and running?
But Alfonzo – the man who had just been in the hospital – wouldn’t hear of it. He rebutted every argument Eric gave during their phone conversation. ‘I feel fine,’ Alfonzo blustered. ‘So why shouldn’t I be surrounded by friends and family? We don’t need the kitchen, since we’ll eat their cooking instead of them eating ours for a change. And people can use the office bathroom or the one in Nonni’s room.’ A hearty belly laugh punctuated his final word on the subject.
Eric stood in what remained of their commercial kitchen inhaling bleach fumes and smoke residue. Even the coffee tasted bitter on his tongue that morning. Hearing the approach of his grandmother, Eric set his mug in the sink. ‘Good morning, Nonni. Are you ready to go?’
‘Ready as I’ll ever be. Were you able to talk sense into your father?’ Nonni crossed the kitchen and grabbed hold of his arm. Since the woman insisted on walking to Mass, she used a cane for additional support.
‘What do you think? Your son won’t change his mind and Mom has already left messages for everyone to come at three o’clock and bring food.’
Nonni muttered something in Italian as they made their way out the door. ‘When word of this meal gets back to the Borelli family, they’ll consider it dancing on poor Salvatore’s grave.’
Eric chose not to point out that Sal had yet to be buried.
‘It’s not right, Enrique. We were all friends, once upon a time,’ Nonni pointed out as they crossed the courtyard.
Eric patted her hand and refrained from mentioning that was over thirty years ago.
‘Well, you can just tell Alfonzo, I won’t have any part of this disrespectful spectacle. After Mass, I’m locking myself in my room until everyone is gone. People can’t use my bathroom either. I’ll lock the door from the hallway. They can either use the office or find the nearest gas station. I don’t care. And that’s all I’ll say on the subject!’
Actually, Nonni had plenty more to say on the subject. The only time she wasn’t pouting or griping was in line to receive communion. Eric didn’t mind because he agreed with his grandmother. Unfortunately, he was trapped in the middle with no one else on their side.
After Mass, Eric called a taxi to take them to breakfast. Nonni was worn out when the taxi brought them home. She would doubtle
ssly sleep through the disrespectful spectacle. Just as Eric walked her to her room, he heard his father’s blustery voice in the back hall. ‘I’ll tell Dad your bathroom is off limits,’ Eric said. ‘And when the last guest leaves, you and I will eat together in the courtyard. How’s that?’
‘Molto buono, Enrique. You’re a good boy.’
‘The jury’s still out on that one.’
Nonni clutched his arm. ‘You mark my words, grandson. God won’t like the Manfredis having this big party before Salvatore is laid to rest. Something bad is going to happen.’
Eric waited to roll his eyes until Nonni closed her door.
While his mother, sister, and aunts gossiped and prepared for their weekly get-together, Eric kept busy in the kitchen. He packed up smoke- or water-damaged spices, seasonings, and dry goods from the shelves into crates. They would be inventoried on Monday by an insurance claim adjustor before workers hauled them to the dumpster. Linens, glassware, paper products – almost everything stored in the kitchen or pantry must be replaced. Only items in the freezer and wine cellar had escaped the smoke, flames, or sprinklers.
Soon Mike Conrad tired of the regular Sunday crowd and joined Eric in the kitchen. A few cousins wandered back and forth too, occasionally helping, but usually just chewing the fat while he and Mike worked.
Eric hadn’t seen his father since he delivered Nonni’s directive about her bathroom. Irena brought him a plate of food – which remained untouched – and invited Eric to meet her cousin’s niece who just happened to be ‘beautiful, talented, and had a great job in advertising.’ Eric told his mother he would be right there … two hours ago. He vastly preferred emptying spoiled vegetables from the fridge to enduring another Irena Manfredi fix-up with the daughter of a shirttail relative.
‘Hello, Eric. Hi, Mike. Can anybody join the fun?’
Eric heard a familiar voice over his shoulder. ‘By all means, Jill. Put on rubber gloves, grab a gasmask, and dig in.’ He grinned at his tenant. ‘How was your trip to Savannah? I got your text about spending the night. I hope your suite isn’t still smoky.’