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

by J. M. Griffin

  “How was the bake sale, Lavinia?” he asked watching Lola and Rafe fill their plates.

  My mother rung her hands once, and then grasped a warm roll. Her nerves were stretched. I wondered what lay behind it. What had happened to make her jumpy all of a sudden? Unless it was my afternoon activities that had her nerves strung taut.

  “It went well. Mom sold most of the goodies and the media were kind to her. You should have come down and given us a hand,” I spoke with confidence.

  A skeptical look covered his face. His eyes bore into my soul. Could he tell I was lying? I kept up the farce. To be deemed innocent, one must act innocent. I had learned that from my cop friends.

  “Hmm,” was the only sound he made.

  Salad filled half my plate and pot pie filled the other half. I slurped Chablis and enjoyed the hearty meal. Everyone chewed, added more food to their plates, and remained silent. When we’d finished eating, I leaned back in the chair with a satisfied grunt.

  To move the likelihood of questioning away from the senior center and Iva, I asked my mother, “You scoped out my shop, huh? Tell me, do you think you’ll like working there?” I took a sip of wine, and waited.

  Mom’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. She said, “Those two girls are so gracious. I think I’ll be fine. They work very hard, Lavinia. It’s too bad you can’t pay them more. They’re really wonderful.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “If you need anything at all, just ask for it. I’m sure Angela will give you whatever you want.”

  “Some of your police friends came to shop for their wives while I was there. They recognized me as the Bake Sale Queen. It was quite nice. They’re good people, Lavinia.”

  My father stared at each one of us in turn. Tension began to build. I couldn’t figure out why. Rafe leaned forward and my father’s gaze rested on him for a second.

  “So what is it you do for a living, Raphael?” Dad asked.

  “I’m a photo journalist. I freelance and work for a company here in the city at the moment,” he answered with a wide grin. “The views, in and around Providence, are so different in every neighborhood. There’s Mount Pleasant and Olneyville, areas that have seen better days, and then right near that is Smith Hill, a beautiful section of Providence. Benefit Street and the East Side are exquisite with all the historic homes and churches. I hadn’t realized Providence was like this.”

  A smirk touched my father’s lips as he listened.

  “The city has changed much since I was a kid. It was nicer then, but that’s only my opinion.” Dad shrugged.

  Twirling his wine glass, Rafe asked, “Where did you live as a kid?”

  “We grew up in the Thornton section of Cranston on the Johnston town line. It was a decent place. Many young families now live in the old neighborhood, but it isn’t the same.”

  “Does your mother live there, Mrs. Esposito?” Rafe asked my mother.

  “Nonni? No, she lives closer to us. Why do you ask?” She wrung her hands again, and then tucked them into her lap.

  Curiosity had taken over. I was about to request a private word when my father asked about Aaron Grant.

  “Will Aaron return soon?” His dark brown eyes slid from me to Rafe and back.

  “He’s scheduled back at the end of the month, I think. I haven’t heard from him for a while, though,” I answered with a shrug.

  “Where does that leave you when he returns?” My father turned to Rafe.

  “Oh, I’ll be gone soon. I have a job in the Caribbean that starts within the next week or two.”

  “Hmm, does that mean the apartment will be empty, and you won’t have anyone in the house with you, Lavinia?”

  “Probably for a while, why?” As if I didn’t know. My father thought I shouldn’t live alone in the huge colonial apartment building, but not live with anyone unless I was married.

  “Who’s gonna watch over you?” he asked with furrowed brows.

  “Dad, I don’t need anyone to watch over me. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Just like when your car flew off the highway, right? And how about the time you got pushed into the reservoir, and then there was the fire in your duplex that was started by that nutball, how about that, huh? Now, there’s the death of these two women at the senior center that you’ve managed to become involved in,” Dad grumbled. He’d thoughtfully left out the Tony Jabroni adventure. I figured it was only due to his involvement that he’d done so.

  “What is all this about, Dad?”

  “I just wonder why you can’t stay out of trouble and mind your own business. It’s like you’re a walking catastrophe.”

  Lola rose from the table and began to clear plates and serving dishes. My mother and Rafe helped. Before I knew it, I found myself alone at the table with my father.

  He stared at me for a drawn out moment. I nearly squirmed, but held back. Instead, I sipped my wine. My father pushed his chair back and motioned with his head for me to follow him from the room.

  I could feel stares burning into my back as I strode from the kitchen. I glanced over my shoulder at my mother and she shrugged followed by an, I don’t know look. Shit.

  We stood before the Christmas tree. My father mumbled that he had news of interest concerning Rafe.

  With a glance toward the kitchen, where noises of clanking silverware and rattling dishes could be heard, I turned back to my father and stepped closer.

  “What kind of news?” I murmured.

  He stared at me and said under his breath, “He isn’t what you think he is. Has Lola said anything about him?”

  “Just that he’s a photographer. They’re related by way of long-passed relatives. Where did you get this information, Dad?”

  He teetered back on the heels of his shoes and then asked, “Have you seen his work? Does he show you the photographs he takes?”

  Chills ran up and down my spine, my pulse raced, and I gulped. Thoughts, bad ones, spun through my head.

  With a slight shake of my head, I watched my father grimace. Here it comes, another perfect opportunity for my father to remind me of his opinion of my lifestyle. Just once, I would like to enjoy a family meal without that reminder.

  “Have you seen his cameras? His lenses, to be exact?”

  “No, I haven’t. Just get to the point before he wanders in here. I can’t stand the suspense,” I whispered.

  “He’s with some racketeering squad of the federal government. He takes photos of gangsters doing their damnedest to break the law. I don’t know if he’s FBI or what, maybe the ATF, even. You haven’t ventured into mob territory, have you?”

  The ATF are the Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms folks that often handle money laundering. They work in conjunction with FBI agents for interdiction, which is the confiscation of drugs and money. I’d known FBI guys who had back-tracked trails of laundered money. I wasn’t sure if Rafe worked with the FBI or ATF or for the FBI, but one of those was a possibility. Maybe he wasn’t clairvoyant after all, but had inside information instead.

  Footsteps on the hardwood floors behind us meant we had company. With a sideway glance at my father, I nodded and said out loud, “I think she’ll like that gift just fine, Dad.”

  “Good, good,” he said and gave me a half smirk as he turned to Rafe.

  “Did you see the ornaments my daughter and her twin brother made when they were kids?” Dad asked with a quick change of subject.

  “Yes, the other day when we were here, she showed them to me. Quite impressive, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled as Lola wandered into the room.

  “Indeed. Her artistic ability showed even then.” Lola reached up to touch the star where sparkles of silver had fallen off.

  I laughed along with the rest of the group and turned toward the kitchen. It was time to go. Slipping my coat on, I said goodbye and approached the door. Eyes peered in through the glass. With a startled jump, I flung the door open, and blustered at the man outside.

  “Why the he
ll are you peeking in the windows, Marcus?” I demanded.

  “Just wondered where everyone was. With all the cars parked outside, I thought dinner would be on the table.” He grinned and brushed past, giving my mother a peck on the cheek and Lola a hug.

  “Marcus, it’s so good to see you,” Mom said. “Are you hungry? I can make you a dish.”

  “No thanks, Mrs. E., I just had a burger.” Marcus smiled and winked at me.

  “That’s not good for you. Burgers are very fattening.”

  My mother, the chocolate maker and baker extraordinaire, had become a bit round through the midsection. A burger was the least of her worries. I smiled, figuring she just liked feeding people, and she didn’t want to pass up the chance to feed Marcus.

  “I know, but I can’t stay.” Marcus smiled, the charm oozed from him. He turned and grasped my hand. “I just need a word with Vinnie.”

  As we headed out the door, I flipped up my jacket collar against the wind. Now what?

  His arms snuck under my jacket as Marcus pulled me close. His lips met mine and I melted inside. When he drew away a bit, he murmured, “Do you realize your temporary tenant works in law enforcement?”

  “I just found out. Tell me more,” I demanded brushing his lips with mine.

  “He’s in cahoots with the FBI. Who told you?”

  “You won’t believe it, but my father delivered the news.”

  His hazel-green eyes widened. An odd look passed over the craggy features. He kissed me again and loosened his grip.

  “That’s interesting, very interesting. I wonder how he found out.”

  “No clue. We were interrupted before he could tell me. I have something that I need to get rid of, though, now that I know he’s FBI,” I said. Pulling him by the hand, we crossed the deck and went down the stairs.

  “What would that be?”

  “You’ll see.” I hurried toward my car. Sliding the wrapped money from under the seat, I tugged it forward, and handed it to Marcus.

  “What’s this?” Unfolding the towel, his eyes widened and then he searched my face.

  “The money that someone tossed Iva Lindon’s apartment for. I found it today when I was there. It was …” Before I could say more, his hand covered my lips.

  “Don’t say anything else. I’ll meet you back at the house later. Say around ten o’clock, okay?” His features had hardened.

  I’d put him in the middle of a bad situation.

  “Okay. Can you just take this with you and out of my life? Since the FBI are involved in Mrs. Lindon’s affairs, I don’t want to be caught with this.”

  A heavy moan rumbled from his chest as Marcus shook his head in dismay. He wrapped the towel around the money and tucked it under his arm. With a brief kiss, he left me alone and drove away in the police cruiser.

  In an effort to put my mother’s nerves at rest, I headed inside. The door closed behind me and the warmth of the house thawed my frozen face. The outside temperature had dropped to an unreasonable level as far as I was concerned.

  “Marcus didn’t stay long. Is everything all right, dear?” my mother asked in concern.

  “Marcus just wanted to speak to me about something.” I leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Everything’s fine with Dad, too. Don’t worry. Stop wringing your hands. It shows you’re nervous.” I kissed her cheek, and then hugged my father when he strode from the living room. I prepared to leave with Rafe and Lola.

  The three of us drove off at the same time, Lola in the lead. She and Rafe sped away. I slowed at the corner, took a right turn, and headed to the market for a pound of coffee.

  Chapter 16

  The market aisles were almost empty as I wandered the length of them in search of snacks and my favorite blend of coffee. I tossed a bag of Kettle Corn into the basket along with chocolate covered pretzels, Mocha Java ice cream, coffee, and a box of Cocoa Puffs, before heading to the checkout counter and then toward home.

  The house was dark when I drove into the yard. Overhead motion sensor spotlights blazed as the car crunched over crushed stone on the way to the garage. Rafe wasn’t here. I wondered where he’d gone. Loaded with bags, I entered my dark apartment. The outer door thudded as it swung shut.

  Inside the apartment, a cool breeze chilled my skin. I stopped dead, unwilling to switch the lights on. Shivers rippled along my spine and my heart pounded. Within seconds the bags and my purse had slipped to the floor. Call me stupid, but I tiptoed across the room in slow motion, instead of leaving the house to call the police. My eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  The bedroom door stood half closed. Soft light from the full moon yawned through the space between the window drapes. The cold breeze intensified when I stepped into the room and nudged the door open even wider. My eye caught the line of the window where a jagged edge of glass appeared. Quickly stepping across the room, glass shards crackled under my feet.

  Fear mixed with anger. I turned back in time to see a form move out the bedroom door. In an attempt to leap over the corner of the bed, my foot tangled in the edge of the bedspread. I sprawled across the floor on my hands and knees. The intruder crashed against the kitchen door while I stumbled to get up and out of the bedroom. He’d tripped over the grocery bags.

  With a grunt and a mumble, the creep got to his feet and hurried from the house as I reached the back door. The kitchen door stood ajar. The spring-loaded outer door slammed against the wall as I raced after the intruder.

  Outside, lights blazed. A tall figure disappeared around the corner of the garage. At a full run, I sped around the opposite side of the building in hope of intercepting him. Nobody came toward me. The entire area stood shadowed, but empty. I stumbled over a tree root and landed with a thud on the ground. In an effort to catch the breath that had left my body upon landing, I lay still for a second. Air eased into my lungs. Brisk wind rustled through the trees, whipping along the eaves of the garage. No footfalls, no noise, just the sigh of the wind.

  Disgruntled and shaken, I clambered to my feet and turned back to the house, grumbling all the way inside. There hadn’t been a break-in for ages, and I was angered by this one. My hands were sweaty even though cold racked my body. An odd combination, but that’s the way my system works out the last vestiges of an adrenalin rush.

  I slammed the outer door and then the inner door as I entered, taking my aggravation out on them. Pacing back and forth, I tapped my lips with frigid fingertips. Why had someone broken in? The only reason I could think of was to search for the journal. That had to be the explanation.

  Lights blazed in every room while I checked windows and locks on the front doors. Then I strode into the bedroom and inspected the broken pane of glass.

  The intruder had made short work of the window. He’d broken most of the glass out of one corner to unlock it. Since I had failed to lower the storm window, I figured I’d made his job that much easier. The wind-tossed window screen flapped back and forth on a mere string of mesh. Marcus would be angry when I told him. I just knew it.

  Lowering the storm window, I locked the inside window and pounded a nail into the edge above the sash to keep anyone else from entering. I tore a piece of cardboard from the back of a sketch pad and taped it over the broken glass.

  A quick search of the room revealed nothing had been taken. The trunk sat undisturbed. I lifted the lid to check for the journal I’d hidden earlier. Maybe I had interrupted the snoop before he found what he wanted. The journal nestled deep within the trunk. With relief, I lowered the lid and swept the glass shards into the dustpan.

  Once I had cleared the grocery bags from the floor and put my groceries away, I glanced at my watch. It was nearly ten o’clock. I expected Marcus any minute. Damn, I hated to tell him about the break-in, but his cop radar would pick it off me if I didn’t. There was no way around it.

  The cruiser swung into the yard and ground to a halt. The car door slammed shut and thumping commenced on the outer door. I asked who it was, even though I knew
, and opened the door after I heard Marcus’s annoyed voice answer me.

  The door swung from my hand as he brushed past and entered the apartment. His sense of humor was absent. I didn’t relish the upcoming conversation, especially after I explained about the intruder.

  “What the hell is going on? Why were you searching that apartment today, and who else have you dragged into this affair? Don’t even tell me that Lola’s involved.”

  Marcus hadn’t ranted, but close to it. His cop attitude was evident. I figured I topped his shit list at the moment.

  “Lola showed up at the bake sale as I crossed the lot to go into the building. Don’t blame me if she’s determined to help out.” My hand slid to my hip as I stared at Marcus. “I’ll prove my mother is innocent by doing whatever it takes.” If all else failed, I had justified my actions as far as I was concerned.

  His head wagged back and forth as though he didn’t accept my explanation. Marcus paced to and fro behind the kitchen counter. I watched his face tighten and a muscle twitch along his jaw line. Yep, he was angry, and I was on the receiving end of it. Dang, I hate when that happens.

  With an abrupt halt, he stared at me. A long sigh escaped the chiseled lips. “I know you’ll continue this investigative course no matter how dangerous it becomes, but I have to warn you that I can’t allow any more breaking and entering. You have this Light Fingered Louie thing going on. I can’t allow that either, no way. Don’t make me arrest you, Vin, because I don’t want to.”

  Surprised, my offbeat sense of humor took hold, as I stared at the man of my dreams. Don’t ask me why I found the situation humorous, but I grinned like a fool at the thought that he would have the nerve to arrest me.

  “You would not arrest me, Marcus Richmond,” I stated in disbelief.

  A cool glare entered his eyes and his features turned rigid.

  “I kid you not. This isn’t funny.” He threw his hands into the air and growled, “I can’t believe you won’t take me seriously.”