J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 05 - Season for Murder

by J. M. Griffin

  “Maybe you should rearrange the merchandise that isn’t selling or put it on sale,” I suggested.

  She nodded and made a note of it. We returned to the main area of the shop and, again, went through the routine. In a few moments, we had come up with some ideas on how to make the most of what wasn’t a great seller and what to replace these items with.

  Several customers had left with their gift-wrapped purchases packaged by Gianna. Gianna’s parents’ family had been friends with my father’s family. They’d all grown up in the same neighborhood. I hadn’t known that when she’d applied for the position, but it wouldn’t have mattered. She was perfect for the job.

  Her feet were oversized for her body, and Gianna tended to trip over nothing at all. It was a trait that caused some concern where the expensive, breakable merchandise of perfume bottles and tea sets were concerned. Angela kept Gianna away from those particular items. Gianna’s cherub-shaped face and Cupid’s bow mouth set off her warm brown eyes. A small tilted nose and a terrific sense of humor gave her a sweetheart look. All of this was set in a compact five-foot-four body. Light brown, curly hair bounced when she spoke, and her gregarious nature was an asset to the business. She was also the best gift wrapper I’d ever seen.

  “Vinnie, we wondered if we could possibly have another person come onboard for the season,” Gianna commented with a hopeful expression.

  “We haven’t been able to take a day off in three weeks, and to be frank, we’re beat,” Angela offered, nodding in agreement with Gianna.

  “Why didn’t you two say something earlier?” I asked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the shop would be open seven days a week now.”

  “What you’re paying us in overtime cuts into the profit. We were reluctant to ask since you had such a problem with the last two women who worked here,” Gianna said as she glanced back and forth at Angela and me.

  “I had considered giving my mother a job. She could do the accounts and help you out. What do you think?”

  It was a perfect opportunity for my mother to slide into a position, but I didn’t want to create waves with the staff, either. The current personnel worked perfectly. I was reluctant to interfere with that. Gianna, who knew my mother, clapped her hands with glee. I smiled at the response, and then turned my gaze to Angela.

  “Does your mother have experience in retail sales?” she asked. Her aristocratic face held concern.

  “She ran my father’s restaurant for years and did the accounts. For the past few years, she sponsored fundraising events for a local senior citizen center and is known as the Bake Sale Queen. Maybe you’ve heard of her? She’s been on the local television station early morning news show.” I smiled when they both nodded in agreement. “If you two need some time off, then she can fill in for whoever has the day off. I think it would be a perfect solution.”

  Enthusiasm met the suggestion and relief flooded me. It isn’t unusual for a family member to enter a business and destroy the working atmosphere. I knew my mother better than that, and so did Gianna. Pleased at their response, I glanced at Angela.

  “She’d be such an asset, Angela,” Gianna reassured.

  “Okay, why don’t you send her down, and we’ll see how it goes. I’m sure she’ll work out fine, especially if she’s as easy-going as you are, Vinnie.” Angela smiled.

  The hint of concern in her eyes disappeared. I was happy they were willing to work with me on this. As far as my being easy-going, there were varied opinions on that issue, but I wouldn’t mention that now. Instead, I gathered the account books and headed from the shop. The two women went to work rearranging stock as I walked from the adjacent showroom.

  In the overcast daylight, I lingered before windows of other shops on the street. A car pulled alongside me and Marcus’s familiar voice called out a greeting.

  “Hey, beautiful, are you shopping for me today?” He chuckled.

  With a grin, I shook my head and asked why he was in the area.

  “I need to make an appearance in Judge Milligan’s chambers. He has questions concerning a case I worked on last year.”

  “Do you have time for coffee or lunch?” I asked with a waggle of my eyebrows.

  A nod and smile met my question. He pulled ahead toward the parking spot behind my car as the SUV pulled out. The cruiser filled the space from bumper to bumper of the other vehicles including mine.

  He stepped from the car, his uniform trim, the stiff brimmed campaign hat in place atop his head. Gray jodhpurs and rich, burnt-sienna leather riding boots complimented his lean, muscular frame. The Rhode Island State Police had never been horseback personnel. Somewhere in the line of colonel’s, one of them had liked the look of the uniform, so he’d made it the required attire. The uniforms weren’t far off from what Canadian Mounties wore, only the color differed. I admired the look. Marcus, a chick magnet in his own right, garnered glances from several female college students and women shoppers passing by. He was a mouth-watering morsel, temper and all.

  We entered a small restaurant, a few stores down the street from Conclavia, and ordered sandwiches. The third chair at our table was filled with my jacket and account books from the shop. I settled back and waited for lunch.

  “What are you planning to do with those books?” Marcus asked with a raised brow.

  “My mother usually looks them over for me, so I’ll drop them by on my way home. She did the accounts for my father when he was in business.”

  “They owned the pizza joint on Rolfe Street, right?”

  “Yeah. It was a great business. My father retired at the right time, though. He managed to sell it to someone who has improved it even more, too.”

  “I remember going there for pizza and calzones. Your father just retired a few years ago, didn’t he?”

  “He did,” I said. “Funny I never ran into you. I was there often enough.”

  “Mmm,” he answered.

  “When did you move into the neighborhood?” I asked. My curiosity was on the rise again.

  Marcus and I dated, sometimes slept together, and usually got along well. He’d revealed some time ago that he lived down the street from my parents’ home in Cranston. I’d been invited to his apartment on occasion.

  So far, I wasn’t concerned about Marcus getting real serious over our relationship. Commitment wasn’t on the horizon for either of us at this point. At least, I didn’t think it was.

  “It’s been a couple years, I guess. It’s odd that we’d never met before. I didn’t drive past your parents’ house very often. I usually leave the neighborhood by way of the street next to the stadium.”

  The counter clerk signaled our food was ready. Marcus went to retrieve it. He smiled at the clerk, who became giddy. I gave her a glare, and she turned away.

  The sandwiches, loaded with pastrami, mustard, and sauerkraut were encased in thick slices of dark rye bread. Long slabs of halved kosher pickles nestled next to the tasty fare. When I bit into the pickle, it snapped, and juice rolled down my chin. I quickly wiped it away, so it didn’t drip onto my clothes. I’d already ruined two sweaters this week. I couldn’t afford another loss.

  Humor crinkled Marcus’s hazel green eyes as he stared at my misfortune. I grinned back at him.

  “Tell me, what’s new in the case concerning your mother?”

  “Nothing yet that I know of,” I answered. “I’m going to offer Mom a job at the shop. The girls are already exhausted, and could use another set of hands. Gianna knows my mother and she thinks Mom will be an asset to the business.

  The edges of his mouth tilted as Marcus stared at me.

  “What’s that smirk for?”

  “It’s not a smirk. I just think it’s great the way you look out for your family. Annoying at times, but great all the same.”

  “Do you think my mother will take the job?”

  “She’ll jump at it, I’m sure,” Marcus assured me. “Are you worried about her?”

  With a nod, I bit into the scrumptiou
s sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

  “She needs something to fill her days other than senior citizens at the center. She could give me a hand with the shop just through the holidays. Then maybe she won’t worry about Iva’s death and the impending investigation.”

  “It’s a good idea. She shouldn’t spend a lot of time, if any, at the center right now.

  “That will take an Act of Congress and you know it, Marcus. She’s dedicated to those people, and they adore her. Some of them have no family. My mother manages to make them feel as though she’s their family.”

  Marcus nodded. “I know. You’re right. I’m just saying that she needs to be careful right now.” His eyes rested on me as he ate his sandwich. Concern lay deep within his gaze.

  I realized how close we’d become over the past months. He slid his hand across the table and covered mine. I smiled and squeezed his fingers. A familiar electricity raced through my system.

  “Mom has earned money for the senior center, which allows them to take casino trips, to go on picnics, to take in shows at the Performing Arts Center and enjoy local plays. She’s managed to encourage some of her more affluent friends to donate their time and money in order for these people to participate in things they couldn’t ordinarily afford,” I said.

  “Is your mother the Bake Sale Queen? Marcus asked with surprise.

  “Uh huh.” I nodded. “Channel 10 did a whole segment on the center a month or so ago. The reporter interviewed a number of senior citizens and the staff. They dubbed her “The Bake Sale Queen”. It’s sweet, really.” I chuckled.

  “I heard a portion of that program on television, but never connected the slogan with your mother. I should have known. Is your oddball tenant aware of it?” he asked with a shake of his head.

  “Not to my knowledge. I wish you’d stop calling Rafe that name. He isn’t what you think.”

  “He has big eyes for you, don’t deny it, Lavinia. You’re too smart not to realize it.” As Marcus leaned back in the chair, his face became serious. “I picture him as a weirdo who checks his crystal ball on a regular basis. He doesn’t appear to work. What did you say he does? He acts weird.”

  Hmm, I wasn’t sure this was a good conversation to have with Marcus. He didn’t approve of Rafe. I knew there was something behind the disapproval. In an effort to change the subject, I coughed and cleared my throat.

  “He’s a photographer of sorts, I guess. Anyway, he said he has an exhibit at a local gallery right now,” I said while ignoring the oddball remark. “By the way, my father has retained an attorney for my mother and me. I don’t know who it is yet, but we meet this afternoon.” I glanced at my watch.

  “Are you in a hurry?” Marcus said with a gleam in his eye.

  Unable to tell why he had the gleam, I wondered if it was because he realized I’d avoided the Rafael conversation.

  “I have to meet my father and the attorney in a while. I still have time before I need to leave. Why?”

  “Why don’t you want to discuss Rafe?” he asked as he swept crumbs from the tablecloth. Finished with the chore, he leaned his elbows on the table and stared at me.

  “There’s nothing to discuss. I’ve told you that before. Are you jealous of him, or are you looking for a way to end our relationship?” I asked the question without thinking, and stopped short before I uttered another word.

  He leaned back and teetered on the legs of the chair. They came down with a light thump as they hit the floor. He reached across the table and took my hand in his.

  “I’m not interested in ending our relationship. Don’t get any ideas about that. I may not like him upstairs from you, sharing coffee and meals with you, hanging around after I leave or whatever, but I’m not jealous. I just don’t trust him.” He smiled and the warmth in his eyes sent a twitter along my nerves.

  He glanced at the clock above my head and sighed.

  “This has been nice, but I have to get to the courthouse. I’ll stop by later if you’ll be around.” Marcus smiled as he escorted me from the café to my car.

  “I haven’t any plans after six tonight, so I’ll see you then. Bring your pajamas if you like.” I laughed.

  “Mmm, pajamas.” He chuckled. “No, no pajamas. Who needs pajamas when we can make all the body heat we need?”

  “Not you, that’s for sure.” I kissed him lightly and watched as he swaggered back toward his cruiser.

  My car was parked in front of his. I waited until he’d pulled away before I swung into traffic.

  Chapter 6

  The senior citizen center sat on my left as I drove up the street heading toward my parents’ neighborhood. The buildings were just across the city line into Providence, while my parents lived in the City of Cranston.

  Glancing at the cars parked side by side, I noticed my mother had tucked her car among a few of the newer models. Making a U-turn in the wide street, I swung in and squeezed into the only available space at the end of the parking lot by the shrubs. My curiosity was piqued. Why would my mother dare come here? This should be the last place she’d go.

  After locking the car, I strode toward the building when I heard my name called in a hoarse whisper.

  “Lavinia, come here,” the whisperer said.

  I glanced toward the shrubs. A seemingly disembodied hand, extended through the prickly shrubs, beckoned me toward the residential complex attached to the center. The dome of my mother’s head popped up above the greenery, and then her forehead appeared, followed by the bridge of her nose. She peered at me. Rushing forward, I wondered why she was being so secretive. As I approached, another head popped into view.

  Aunt Muffy leaned shoulder-to-shoulder beside my mother. I stopped short, staring at the two of them.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded in just above a murmur.

  “Shh, we’re on a mission to check into Iva’s affairs. We have access to her apartment,” my mother whispered.

  Hand on my hip, I drew closer.

  “How did that happen?” I wanted to know.

  A chuckle from behind brought me around to face Mr. Perkins. My heart sank at the sight of his excitement. This could only mean that Mr. Perkins was involved up to his frail shoulders and skinny chicken neck. Oh my God, my inner voice yelled, we’re all going to jail. Unfortunately, there was no shut-off button to control the voice. I simply braced myself for the worst.

  “Mr. Perkins, what have you been up to?” I asked him with what I hoped was a stern look.

  He chuckled again and said, “Ain’t nothin’ like a great mystery. The girls needed to get inside Iva’s, and I happened to find the key she left outside her apartment, you know, in case she locked herself out.” He chortled. “She did that a lot, ya know.” His shoulders shook with mirth.

  Muffy and my mother hurried indoors as Perkins followed not far behind. Reluctantly, I went with them. My brain in overdrive, I wondered if my mother knew what she was doing was totally illegal.

  Visions of the four of us in handcuffs, and ankle chains, skittered through my head. Detective Bellini, Marcus, and my father swept across my consciousness. Their reaction would be profound if we were caught in this illicit act. My curiosity factor still held first place, front and center, as we crowded into the elevator and rode to the second floor.

  Mr. Perkins held the doors at bay while we rushed forward. I followed Aunt Muffy and my mother along the corridor. A wreath of tattered silk flowers, covered with a thick layer of dust, clung to Iva’s front door. A potted plant of crumbling, chalky, dried flowers leaned against the wall on the waist-high narrow wood ledge that ran the length of the corridor above the handrail. Lined up domino style in front of the door, we waited, still and silent in mannequin mode.

  Pointing to the pot, Mr. Perkins whispered that the key had been taped to the bottom of it. I nodded and glanced up and down the hallway. Closed apartment doors lined both sides and stretched out on either side of the elevator. A stairwell stood at each end of the corridor. I unlocked and
turned the door knob to Iva’s apartment.

  We entered the three-room residence. I gently closed the door behind us. The others tiptoed through the rooms while I watched. The lock in the door handle turned under my fingertips, and satisfied we were safe, I moved forward. No sense in being interrupted, right?

  The galley kitchen smelled from the dirty dishes piled in the sink filled with gray water. The floor, covered with a grimy film, hadn’t been cleaned in ages. I opened the fridge, put my hand over my nose, and stepped back, gagging on the disgusting odor of rotten food. Dishes of prior meals lay exposed with slick green goo covering them. Yuck. I quickly closed the door.

  My mother rummaged through the antique desk against the wall in hope of finding what? I didn’t have any idea, and figured she didn’t, either. Aunt Muffy rifled through the bedroom closet while Mr. Perkins tossed the contents of the dresser drawers. Every now and then, he chuckled. I wasn’t sure if it was at the sight of gigantic underwear, or if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. His humor brought a smile to my lips.

  Within moments, I’d checked the French-style hutch in the living room. I glanced over my shoulder, as my mother flipped through letters from the desk. I watched her pick up what appeared to be a personal journal.

  “What are we looking for, Mom?” I asked as I stared at the journal in her hands.

  “We’re in search of anything that will lead us to Iva’s killer. She had secrets on everyone. She should have realized they might get her in trouble someday. Having dirt on people and holding it over them is an unhealthy habit, don’t you think?”

  “Was she that bad?”

  “If I have the stories straight, yes, she was. I’d heard a few things here and there, but I never paid much attention to them. She’d always been nice to me, you see. The problem with senior citizens is that some of them aren’t always correct in their assumptions concerning each other. That’s why I didn’t heed the gossip.”