Murder at St. Winifred's Academy

by J. D. Griffo

  “I’m really starting to hate this place,” Jinx announced as she held open the door for Alberta to enter.

  “I wish I could say it gets easier, lovey, but it doesn’t,” Alberta said. “My nerves always get rattled when I come to a hospital.”

  “Really?” Jinx replied. “I thought it was just me.”

  “It’s most people,” Alberta said. “You come to the hospital because you’re sick, you think you’re sick, or someone you know is sick.”

  “That is so depressing, Gram,” Jinx said.

  “Hospitals are depressing,” Alberta declared.

  “Wait a second,” Jinx said. “Women go to hospitals to have babies. That’s not a scary, nerve-racking experience.”

  Alberta laughed out loud and threw an arm around her granddaughter. “That’s because you haven’t given birth yet. Let me know how you feel after you’ve been in labor for fifteen hours.”

  Folding into her grandmother’s embrace, Jinx replied, “As long as you’re by my side, I’m sure I won’t feel any pain.”

  Alberta kissed Jinx’s cheek and said, “Possa Dio proteggere.”

  “You want me to be God’s protégé?” Jinx asked.

  “I said ‘May God protect,’ ” Alberta explained. “But if we all acted like God’s protégé, maybe we wouldn’t have to come to the morgue to visit another murder victim.”

  As optimistic and upbeat as Alberta had become ever since moving to Tranquility, she could easily tap into her more pessimistic roots.

  “You really know how to be a killjoy, Gram,” Jinx joked.

  When Alberta replied, her tone was devoid of any humor. “Well, remember, we’re here to start our investigation to find out who killed Missy.”

  * * *

  The morgue looked exactly the same as it did the last time they had visited. Gray walls lined with gray, metal drawers that housed the gray-pallored bodies of the recently deceased. It was a dreary room befitting a house of death, but it was also calming thanks to the soothing music that filled up the space.

  “I see you still have your transistor radio dialed into the easy listening station,” Alberta said.

  Luke looked up from his computer and smiled his trademark toothy grin. He was a big guy, foreboding and goofy at the same time, a bit like Cerberus guarding the gates of Hell if the creature had undergone basic training to thwart its more ferocious tendencies. When he wasn’t dabbling in community theatre, Luke’s professional role was gatekeeper not only to the morgue, but to the medical examiner’s office, which was at the end of the room behind him.

  “Hi, Mrs. Scaglione, hey, Jinx,” Luke said. “I’m riding a late ’60s retro vibe lately.”

  Alberta listened closely and realized the instrumental music was Burt Bacharach’s “I Say A Little Prayer.”

  “How appropriate,” Alberta said.

  The music might have been, but Luke’s presence was not.

  “What are you doing here?” Jinx asked. “You have rehearsal today.”

  “I had the early shift. I’m leaving in a few minutes,” Luke explained. “But it isn’t like we’re going to be doing any rehearsing today without our leading lady.”

  “Nola’s heartsick over it. She’s going to break the news to the cast,” Jinx said. “Most of them don’t even know what’s happened.”

  “I guess this is the tragedy part of theatre,” Luke said. “I was really looking forward to the comedy side, though, given my usual surroundings.”

  “There’ll be other shows,” Alberta said. “And maybe it’s time for you to look for a position upstairs. The basement is no place for a young man like yourself.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Scaglione,” Luke said. “I’ve been exploring other opportunities.”

  “Good for you, and if you need a recommendation, I’d be happy to supply you with one,” Alberta replied. “Is Vinny here?”

  “He’s in Pedro’s office,” Luke replied.

  “Who’s Pedro?” Jinx asked.

  “The new medical examiner,” Luke explained. “Started a few weeks ago.”

  “And already he’s got his first mur—”

  She couldn’t think of a better way to stop Jinx from finishing her sentence, so Alberta hit Jinx in the chest with her pocketbook. It wasn’t an artful maneuver, and while it achieved its goal, which was to stop Jinx from talking, it didn’t silence her.

  “Ow!” Jinx howled. “That hurt, Gram.”

  “Sorry, lovey,” Alberta replied. “There was a fly on your jacket and I was trying to shoo it away.”

  “With deadly force?” Jinx asked.

  “When in Rome,” Luke offered. “You can go right in, they’re expecting you.”

  “Thanks, Luke,” Alberta said.

  On the short walk to the medical examiner’s office, Jinx wanted to know why Alberta had used her pocketbook as a lethal weapon.

  “Why’d you haul off and whack me back there?” Jinx whispered.

  “Because I don’t want it to get back to Vinny that we’re spreading rumors that Missy was murdered before the official announcement,” Alberta said.

  “Got it,” Jinx said. “Leave the man his pride so he leaves us alone to investigate.”

  “Exactly,” Alberta said. “A little pain in the boob is a small price to pay.”

  “I think it’s the first time I’m glad I have little boobs,” Jinx mused.

  “Ah, Madon.” Alberta sighed. “Don’t blame me for that. My boobs may sag, but they’ve never been little.”

  Alberta knocked on the door and entered, but Jinx lagged behind until she was certain she wasn’t going to start laughing in response to her grandmother’s slightly ribald comment. Vinny wasn’t Jinx’s biggest fan; no need to give him more of a reason to dislike her.

  “Hi, Vin,” Alberta said. “Don’t yell at us for barging in, Luke gave us the go-ahead to enter.”

  “When does the chief ever yell?”

  Even if Luke hadn’t given them a heads-up, it would’ve been easy for Alberta and Jinx to figure out that the man who spoke was Pedro Suarez, the new medical examiner. Not only did the middle-aged man have the thick, black hair, olive complexion, and high cheekbones that were quintessential Latin features, he was standing behind the desk in the ME’s office and wearing a spotless white lab coat with his first name sewn onto the breast pocket.

  “How long have you known Vin?” Alberta asked.

  “Since my interview last month,” Pedro replied.

  “Give it a few more days,” Alberta said. “You’ll hear the real Vinny D’Angelo loud and clear yelling from his office. His voice has a tendency to carry.”

  Vinny tried to maintain a jovial expression, but he clenched his jaw and his smirk looked like the start of a menacing growl. When he spoke, his voice sounded more exasperated than inviting.

  “These are the ladies I was telling you about,” Vinny said. “Alberta Scaglione and her granddaughter, Jinx Maldonado.”

  Pedro extended his hand to Alberta, who grasped it firmly. “Hello, Alberta, a pleasure to meet a woman with such a strong handshake.”

  “My father would always say, Le strette di mano de-boli sono per i pesci bagnati,” Alberta said.

  Before she could translate, Pedro replied, “He would be proud that his daughter didn’t grow up to be a wet fish.”

  “You speak Italian?” Alberta asked.

  “Italian, German, English, Portuguese, a little Mandarin, and, of course, my native Spanish,” Pedro replied.

  “Dio mio!” Alberta exclaimed. “You’re like the United Nations.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mister ...” Jinx said, extending her hand to Pedro.

  “Suarez,” Pedro replied, shaking Jinx’s hand. “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You have a firm grip like your abuela.”

  “Thank you,” Jinx replied.

  Jinx turned to Vinny and adopted a different tactic from her usual blunt approach. She thought it might score her some brownie points if she were polite. �
�Excuse me, Vinny, is this a good time to fill us in on the autopsy report?”

  It worked. Vinny stared at Jinx, surprised and momentarily silenced by her professional tone, before he replied, “It’s, um, perfect timing, actually. Pedro was just about to fill me in on his findings.”

  “When the chief called me late last night, I knew it must be important, so I worked through the night to have the report ready for this morning,” Pedro replied.

  “I can’t believe you got a toxicology report so quickly,” Vinny said. “I thought those things took at least a few days even if they were rushed.”

  “I didn’t do a toxicology report,” Pedro replied.

  “What?!” Vinny cried. “I specifically told you that I wanted a toxicology report.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what you said,” Pedro confirmed.

  “Then why didn’t you order one?!” Vinny shrieked. “If you want to keep this job, Pedro, you’re going to have to do what you’re told!”

  Smiling, Pedro turned to face Alberta. “This must be the yelling you were talking about.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “It’s reared its pretty little head quicker than I thought.”

  “This isn’t a joke!” Vinny shouted.

  “I assure you, Chief, I never joke when it comes to my work,” Pedro responded in a voice that was notably calm despite the tense conversation he was engaged in. “But in this instance, a toxicology report is unnecessary. Ms. Michaels didn’t die from arsenic poisoning or anything else she might have ingested.”

  “She was strangled, wasn’t she?” Alberta asked.

  Pedro’s thick, black eyebrows shot up like two startled caterpillars. “She most certainly was. Her hyoid bone was broken.”

  “Which bone is that?” Vinny asked.

  “The soft bone between the chin and the Adam’s apple.” Vinny would’ve accepted that answer unequivocally if Pedro had spoken, but it was Alberta who’d supplied the information.

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I Googled physical signs of strangulation,” Alberta explained.

  “Were you out of warm milk?” Vinny asked.

  “Getting answers always helps me sleep better,” Alberta replied. “You should try it sometime, Vin, you wouldn’t yell so much.”

  Once again, Jinx had to work hard to control herself from laughing out loud. She didn’t only find Alberta’s comment funny; the sight of Vinny contorting his face and clenching his fists so he wouldn’t prove Alberta right and fill the room with his shouting was hilarious. Luckily, Pedro was focused on the actual matter at hand.

  “You have very good instincts, Mrs. Scaglione,” Pedro said.

  “Thank you,” Alberta replied. “Missy’s eyes were another clear-cut sign that she died of strangulation.”

  “Her eyes were bloodshot, that’s not so uncommon,” Vinny said in a tone of voice that was dangerously close to a shout.

  “You could’ve been a doctor, Alberta, or at least played one on TV,” Pedro declared. “Missy had petechiae eye.”

  “Why don’t you explain to the class what that means too, Alfie?” Vinny suggested.

  Aware that the sarcasm that enveloped every word Vinny spoke was the result of his own inability to identify the physical clues that were right there on Missy’s body, Alberta ignored him and continued to address Pedro when she spoke.

  “Her eyes were more than bloodshot,” she explained. “They were slightly distorted as well, both results of strangulation.”

  “You get an A-plus, Mrs. Scaglione,” Pedro declared. “I am one hundred percent certain that Missy Michaels died of strangulation.”

  He elaborated to advise that in his professional opinion someone strangled Missy with the lace shawl and put the arsenic bottle in her hand to make it appear that she had committed suicide. He confirmed that there were no other bruises, contusions, or traumas on Missy’s body, so it appeared that she was killed in the dressing room and not brought there postmortem. Proving that he had thought about the scenario in detail, Pedro added that it meant she died rather quickly and didn’t put up a fight, possibly because she knew her killer.

  “How could she know her killer?” Jinx asked. “She didn’t know anyone in town.”

  Vinny let out a deep sigh before he responded, “She knew Nola.”

  “Only on the phone and through e-mail,” Jinx stated. “They never met in person.”

  “Meglio amico che nemico,” Alberta muttered.

  “I don’t think it matters who kills you, friend or foe,” Vinny said. “The result is the same.”

  “True, but if it was a friend, maybe Missy wasn’t frightened in her last moments,” Alberta proposed.

  “That’s an interesting way of looking at death,” Pedro said. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  “You also need to remember that she wasn’t strangled by a lace shawl,” Alberta said.

  “Mi amiga, you’re wrong about that,” Pedro said. “The lace material left imprints on the poor woman’s neck and throat.”

  “I’m sure it did,” Alberta agreed. “But it was a lace curtain and not a lace shawl.”

  “How do you know that, Alfie?” Vinny asked.

  “Simple, there’s a hole running along the hem for the curtain rod,” Alberta explained.

  Pedro walked from behind his desk to a small box that was sitting on one of the chairs on the opposite side. He opened the box and pulled out the lace, which was still in the plastic evidence bag. He turned it upside down, sideways, and flipped it around until he was finally convinced that Alberta was right.

  “Caballa Santa,” Pedro said.

  “Holy mackerel is right,” Vinny added.

  “You’re even smarter than Vinny said you were,” Pedro gushed.

  “You said I’m smart, Vin?” Alberta asked.

  “No! I did not say you are smart!” Vinny yelled. “I said you’re nosy.”

  “How dare you!” Alberta shouted.

  “Come on, Gram, you really can’t argue with that,” Jinx said. “You are kind of nosy.”

  “And what about you?” Alberta asked.

  “I’m an investigative reporter,” Jinx replied. “I’m on a quest for the truth.”

  Unlike Jinx, Pedro had no problem filling the room with his laughter. “I am going to love working in this town.”

  * * *

  As they walked to their cars in the parking lot, Vinny, Alberta, and Jinx felt that their work was just getting started.

  “Do you think Pedro made the wrong decision not to run a toxicology report?” Alberta asked.

  “No, I think it was the right call,” Vinny said. “But I still may have him do one just to cover all our bases.”

  Jinx noticed a strange quality to Vinny’s voice. She had never heard him sound contrite before, at least not in her presence. She was almost afraid to confront him on it, but then shifted her mindset. He might not be fond of Jinx, the person, but Vinny might find it easier to respond to Jinx, the reporter.

  “Is something wrong, Vinny?” Jinx asked. “You sound as if you have more to say.”

  Vinny let out another sigh and replied, “I may have overreacted back there when I yelled at Pedro about the toxicology report.”

  “What do you mean?” Jinx asked. “You were totally within your rights.”

  “On the one hand, yes, because this is a high-profile case,” Vinny said, “but on the other hand, no, because we know the arsenic bottle isn’t real. Nola confirmed that it was a prop for the show.”

  They all stopped in front of Jinx’s red Chevy Cruze, stunned by this announcement. Adding this clue to the fact that the lace shawl was actually a curtain and not part of Missy’s own wardrobe meant that Missy’s murder was definitely premeditated and not the result of a spur-of-the-moment act of violence. Whoever killed Missy brought both the lace curtain and the arsenic bottle prop to the dressing room. It also meant that the killer had something to do with the play or at le
ast knew that Missy was going to star in Arsenic and Old Lace. Unfortunately, thanks to Sloan and Joyce’s publicity efforts, everyone in town knew Missy had a role in the play.

  “These clues do tell us one thing for certain,” Alberta announced.

  “What’s that?” Vinny asked.

  “That whoever killed Missy knew their way around the theatre,” she replied.

  “You’re right, Gram,” Jinx added. “It was pitch-dark backstage and there were no other props lying around the dressing room, so the killer must’ve known the landscape of the entire theatre.”

  Shaking her head, Alberta replied, “Something’s not right.”

  “What’re you thinking, Alfie?” Vinny asked.

  “The killer didn’t have a lot of time,” Alberta started. “Why go to the trouble of including a prop bottle if they weren’t going to poison Missy?”

  Once again, Jinx noticed something different about Vinny. He opened his mouth to talk, then closed it. He tried again but was clearly struggling to find the right word.

  “Vin,” Alberta said. “Spit it out.”

  “Let’s go back to my office,” Vinny said. “I have something to show you.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Quello che vedi non sempre quello che ottieni.

  The Tranquility Police Station wasn’t as comforting as the rural playground found in Mayberry, but it definitely wasn’t as disheartening as the decaying urban kingdom ruled by Barney Miller. The local law enforcement facility fell somewhere in between, and for Alberta and Jinx, who were spending more and more time there, it was beginning to feel like a home away from home.

  The one-story building was clean, quiet, and well-organized, which meant it was nothing like any of the Italian homes either of the ladies had ever lived in, but it did mean that when they entered the facility, they weren’t bombarded with a burst of frenzied activity. There was enough chaos out in the world, it was nice to know that in a place where that chaos was supposed to be controlled, they were confronted with calm. And a friendly face.

  “Tambra!” Alberta exclaimed, disturbing the aforementioned peace. “Is everybody going to be late for rehearsal today?”