by J. D. Griffo
“Fifty thousand dollars!” Nola cried.
“This is a murder case, Nola, the judge didn’t even have to offer bail as an option,” Bruno explained.
Looking around the courtroom, a shiver gripped Nola’s spine. She had been in this location before, and she had been in the situation Johnny was in now, and the terrible memories of that ordeal were rising up from the tucked-away place in her mind where she had stored them. She didn’t like the feelings that were resurfacing and this time it was worse because she wasn’t the only victim. Johnny was sitting in a jail cell, desperate to get out but knowing he didn’t have the financial means to post bail. Nola didn’t have the money either, but she knew how to get it.
“Mrs. Scaglione,” Nola said, her voice already starting to shake. “You were once very kind to me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to be kind again. Johnny isn’t perfect and I know that, but I also know that he’s innocent. I’m the only one here who knows what it feels like to be in that position and you’re the only one I can ask who can help him like you once helped me.” Nola took a pause to control her breathing, which had begun to accelerate. She then took a deep breath and asked the question she never thought she’d have to ask. “Could you please pay Johnny’s bail?”
Alberta could hear Sloan, who was standing behind her, inhale deeply. He was surprised by Nola’s request, but she wasn’t. She also wasn’t surprised by her quick reply.
“Yes, I will.”
Tears sprang from Nola’s eyes and she began to sob. She clasped her hands and held them to her chest; she didn’t try to hide her face because she had nothing to hide. When Alberta sensed that Nola’s crying was ending, she wrapped her arms around her. They stood there for a few seconds until Nola whispered in Alberta’s ear, “You are my very own guardian angel.”
The time for emotional outbursts was over and practical matters took over. Bruno advised Alberta to get a cashier’s check ready, and he and Nola set off to advise the court and Johnny that bail would be paid. When they were alone, Sloan grabbed Alberta’s hand and stopped her from dashing out of the courthouse and heading over to the bank.
“Sloan, what’s wrong?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Yes, I am,” Alberta said.
“And you aren’t doing this out of any sense of guilt?” Sloan asked.
“I’m doing this because I’m not entirely convinced of Johnny’s guilt,” Alberta replied. “But even if I’m wrong, he isn’t a flight risk; he isn’t going to skip town.”
“How can you be so sure?” Sloan asked.
“L’innocenza di un bambino. ”
“Did you call me a baby?” Sloan asked.
“Sometimes you’re as innocent as a baby,” Alberta replied. “Which is something I love about you.”
“I sense that there’s something you don’t love,” Sloan said.
“You can be a little stunod sometimes,” Alberta said as sweetly as possible. “Now that Johnny’s going to be directing the show while out on bail with a murder charge looming over his head, Nola’s little play is going to get more publicity than it ever would if Missy were starring in it. There’s no way Johnny’s going to miss out on being the center of all that attention.”
“La saggezza di una dea. ”
Sloan’s accent was improving and so was his word choice.
“Did you call me a goddess?”
“You are a wise one,” Sloan said. “And to be clear, I was not trying to tell you how to spend your money, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t suckered in by Nola’s performance. As honest and heartfelt as it might have been.”
Once again, Alberta was reminded how different Sloan was compared to all the other men in her life. And, once again, she was reminded how happy she was that he had come into hers.
“I did know that,” Alberta said. “But thank you for saying it out loud.”
As they passed Vinny’s office on their way out of the police station, they heard someone else who had no problem sharing her thoughts out loud.
“I’m not sure if you can hear it by the tone of my voice, Vinny, but I’m not thrilled to have a murder suspect in my school!”
The door to Vinny’s office was ajar, so they could see that he was sitting in his chair listening to Donna scream at him. His face wasn’t contorted in anger or flushed from trying to contain his rage, as it was when he fought with Alberta or Jinx; he looked almost amused by Donna’s harangue. Which only made Donna’s tone grow shriller and more strident.
“How am I going to convince the church and the parents of the students at St. Winifred’s that allowing Johnny Fenn, or whatever his name is, to continue working on this play is a responsible thing for me to do?” Donna asked. “Tell me, Vin, how am I supposed to do that?!”
Vinny leaned forward, clasped his hands on his desk, and smiled. “You tell them that in this country a man is innocent until proven guilty. It’s the ultimate lesson in civics playing out in real time for all to see. If you word it properly, you might even be able to increase tuition for the unprecedented experience.”
“That is a novel way of looking at things,” Donna replied. The volume of her voice had softened noticeably, and its tone was almost submissive.
“Plus, you can tell them that I’ll have two cops seated in the back row of the theatre at all times whenever Johnny’s on the premises,” Vinny added.
Her response practically dripped with honey-scented oil. “I told you we’d make a good team, Vin, didn’t I?”
Vinny didn’t answer, but his impish grin told Alberta her suspicions about the couple had been right and they were, in fact, a couple. Before they could be seen, Alberta grabbed Sloan’s hand and pulled him away from Vinny’s open door and toward the exit.
“What in the world was that all about?” Sloan asked. “Have Vinny and Donna, you know ...”
“Shacked up?” Alberta said, finishing Sloan’s thought.
“I wasn’t going to put it that vividly,” he replied. “But now that you mentioned it, have they?”
“I don’t know where they are in their relationship,” Alberta admitted. “But I do know my old friend’s bachelor days are finally over.”
A few hours later, Alberta and Sloan found themselves right back at the police station, this time inside Vinny’s office, not standing outside eavesdropping. His tone of voice was much less conciliatory than it was when he was speaking to Donna, even though the subject matter of both conversations was the same. Perhaps it was because the person yelling at him this time was twice Donna’s size and a different gender.
“I can’t drop the charges!” Vinny yelled.
“Why not?!” Bruno yelled back.
“Because I said so, that’s why!” Vinny yelled even louder.
It was hardly a defense and only served to render Bruno speechless for five seconds, after which he railed against Vinny even louder.
Before Alberta could interrupt, Bruno said everything that was on her mind. He reminded Vinny that Johnny had no past criminal record, he had absolutely no motive, an alibi that admittedly couldn’t be corroborated, but also couldn’t be invalidated, and even if Johnny did deposit the $100,000 into his own bank account, there was no crime in accepting money.
Instead of responding to Bruno, which was the logical response, Vinny directed his reply to Sloan. “I guess you haven’t told your girlfriend and her posse about the e-mails.”
“What e-mails?” Alberta asked.
“Why don’t we go to your place, make a pitcher of Red Herrings and I’ll explain everything,” Sloan suggested.
* * *
Back at Alberta’s, the pitcher was full, the antipasti was on the table, Helen and Joyce rushed over to join them in response to emergency text messages Alberta sent them, yet Sloan still hadn’t told them anything about the e-mails.
“Bruno and I have been more than patient, Sloan,” Alberta said. “It’s time you explained why you and Vinny are in cahoot
s.”
“Vinny and I aren’t in cahoots per se,” Sloan hedged. “But he did discover what I’ve been up to ... with someone else.”
“Someone else?” Helen said. “Are you two-timing my sister?”
“Of course Sloan isn’t two-timing Berta,” Joyce said. “Sloan, please tell me you’re not two-timing Berta.”
“Heavens no!” Sloan cried. “If you’ll all just wait a little bit longer, I’ll explain everything.”
“I really don’t have time for this, Sloan,” Bruno said. “I have a client facing a murder charge.”
“We just have to wait for one more person,” Sloan replied.
“I told you, Jinx is down the shore on an assignment,” Alberta said. “She won’t be back until tonight.”
“We’re not waiting on her,” Sloan said. “It’s someone else.”
“Who?” they all asked in unison.
With perfect timing, the kitchen door flung open to reveal Father Sal. “None other than me! Your friendly neighborhood ecclesiastic.”
“Have a seat, Padre, so we can get this show on the road,” Helen commanded. “And no, don’t get any ideas about taking our play on tour.”
“We would be a hit upstate,” Father Sal said, sitting at the table. “They do love when their elders take charge.”
“Basta!” Alberta cried. “I don’t want to hear you two bicker like Ma and Pa Kettle, I want to hear what Sloan has to say.”
“So do I,” Bruno said. “I’m the lawyer here, I’m the only who can keep Johnny out of jail, and you’ve been keeping information from me. That isn’t how this works!”
“I’m sorry, I needed to wait because Father Sal plays a large part in what I have to say,” Sloan admitted.
“You’re like the Gladys Kravitz of the Catholic Church, Sal,” Joyce stated. “You’ve got your eyes and ears everywhere.”
Sal rolled his hand in front of him as he bowed his head at the compliment, “It is a gift.”
“You owe us the gift of an explanation!” Alberta yelled. “Now talk!”
“Father Sal and I hacked into Johnny’s e-mail account with the help of an ex-con Sal has been working with who’s serving time on parole,” Sloan explained.
Except for Bruno, all those gathered were accustomed to engaging in slightly unorthodox methods of operations in their search for clues while investigating a case, and everyone, including Bruno, knew that Father Sal was not averse to following a morally ambiguous path if it led to some kind of gilded prize. However, no one ever thought they’d see the day when Sloan stepped over the line and joined them in participating in an illegal activity.
“Let me get this straight, Sloan,” Bruno started. “You and a priest used an ex-con trying to go straight to commit a crime and jeopardize his parole?”
“We asked him nicely,” Sloan said.
“And we bought him dinner,” Sal added.
“Santa Madre di Dio.” Alberta sighed and made the sign of the cross. “We finally did it. We corrupted the innocent.”
“Your boyfriend isn’t a saint, Berta,” Helen said. “What did you find out?”
“We could only see his e-mails for the past six months, but there were no exchanges between him and Missy,” Sloan said.
“That’s more like noninformation,” Joyce said.
“Correct, but we didn’t stop our hacking there,” Sloan replied, “thanks to Father Sal.”
“You know how to hack into e-mails?” Alberta asked.
“No, but I listen when people talk, and I remembered that Inga said Missy always referred to Johnny as Johnny the director, so I had Bartholomew—he’s the ex-con-hack into the account for [email protected],” Sal explained.
“Se non è un messaggio di posta elettronica, è l’altra,” Alberta said and then translated for Sloan. “If it’s not one e-mail, it’s the other.”
“And as Father Finley would say,” Sal added, “we hit the trifecta.”
“He was the gambling addict, right?” Helen asked.
“Yes, my oh my, how he loved his horses,” Sal confirmed. “But he was a good priest. In fact, he won first prize for Best Homily three times in a row at the Cathys.”
“What’s the Cathys?” Alberta asked.
“The New Jersey Diocese Catholic Church Awards,” Sal explained. “He won in the Non-Holiday Category.”
“I didn’t even know there was such a thing,” Joyce said.
“Like many things that come out of the Vatican,” Sal confided, “it’s very hush-hush.”
“Will you hush up about the gambling priest?” Bruno ordered. “Tell us what you found out when you read the e-mails between Missy and Johnny the director.”
“Johnny e-mailed Missy saying that he was her number one fan,” Sloan said.
“I think Kip would disagree with that claim,” Joyce interrupted.
“He might not have the proof to back it up, but it is how Johnny presented himself,” Sloan replied. “He then told Missy that he wanted to build a website for her to remind the world of what a great star she was.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Alberta said.
“I agree,” Father Sal said. “The world already knows Missy Michaels is a great star.”
“No, Johnny told us his ex-girlfriend created a website for him,” Alberta corrected. “If he couldn’t create his own, why would he suggest he would create one for Missy?”
“For the money,” Sloan explained. “He charged her one hundred thousand dollars, which is an exorbitant price, but Missy paid it without any hesitation, which is an indication that she either didn’t know any better or she was so desperate to get back on the public’s radar that she didn’t care that she was getting ripped off.”
“Maybe Johnny implied that he wasn’t tech savvy to throw us off the track,” Alberta suggested.
“Or he paid someone five thousand dollars to make the website and pocketed the rest,” Helen proposed.
“Also too, maybe he was framed,” Joyce added.
“All very real possibilities,” Sloan hedged.
“How terrible to be duped right before you die,” Alberta commented.
Sloan and Father Sal exchanged very serious glances, which was a signal that their tale had yet to completely unfold.
“Are you seriously going to tell us that there’s more to the story?” Bruno asked.
“Yes,” Sloan confirmed.
“And it gets worse?” Bruno asked.
“Much,” Sal replied.
“Then give me your glasses, everybody,” Bruno said. “It’s time for refills.”
No amount of alcohol could prepare them for what Sal and Sloan were about to share with them, but it was good that they were slightly anesthetized by the Red Herrings, as it helped lessen the shock. They had uncovered some nefarious plots before, but what they were about to hear topped the list.
“About a week before she arrived in Tranquility, Missy sent Johnny an e-mail telling him that she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s,” Sloan conveyed. He paused as Alberta, Helen, and Joyce each made the sign of the cross, kissed their fingers, and offered their acknowledgment to God. “In that same e-mail, she expressed her desire not to live out her life like a victim, but to take control of her circumstances.”
“I can’t blame her,” Helen said. “Alzheimer’s is a horrible disease. It robs you of every human right.”
“You might want to hold your approval until you hear what Missy proposed,” Father Sal said. “She told Johnny that she wanted him to kill her after the play was over.”
They were all so shocked by this revelation, they couldn’t find any words and instead let out one communal gasp.
“She told him that she’d pay him one hundred thousand dollars now and would have another hundred thousand dollars released to him after her death,” Sloan explained.
“So Missy agreed to pay such an exorbitant amount to Johnny for him to build her website, but it was, well, a red herring of sorts. The money was re
ally a down payment to murder her,” Bruno surmised.
“It seems that way,” Father Sal said.
“These are extreme measures,” Bruno said.
“The way Missy rationalized it,” Sloan said, “she’d get to die on her own terms, and Johnny would garner huge attention as Missy Michaels’s final director and be catapulted to stardom.”
“She instructed Johnny not to respond to the e-mail and that she would wire the money into his Dirigo, Inc., account,” Father Sal said, continuing the explanation. “If he deposited the money into his own account, she would know that he agreed.”
“Diabolica!” Helen cried.
“I agree, Helen,” Alberta said. “But forgive me, it makes sense.”
“Berta, how in the world could that vile proposal make sense?” Joyce asked.
“Don’t you remember, Inga told us Missy would die one way or the other,” Alberta reminded them. “If she hadn’t been murdered, it would only be inevitable that the Alzheimer’s would have killed her.”
“But having an untreatable illness and orchestrating your own death are two entirely different things,” Joyce said.
“Plus, Johnny would have to go along with it, and that’s the ultimate long shot,” Helen said.
“It seems he did agree,” Bruno said.
“But hold on, according to the e-mails, Missy told Johnny to kill her when the show was over, not before it started rehearsals,” Alberta said.
“True,” Sloan said, “but Vinny thinks they have enough info to make the charges stick.”
“He also demands that this information remain silent,” Sal added. “Which means we cannot tell Jinx.”
“Why not?!” Alberta cried. “She’s as much a part of this as we all are.”
“She’s also a reporter, Berta,” Sloan said. “And Vinny will throw us all in jail if this information leaks out. I know it’ll be hard for you, but please keep this a secret for a little while longer.”
Sighing, Alberta threw up her hands and agreed. “There’s so much I don’t get about this whole thing anyway, it’ll be easy to keep my mouth shut. Like what in the world is a dirigo?”