Cold Moon Dead

by J. M. Griffin

  “Does Jabroni have a son named Duarte?”

  “I thought you only had one question?” He chuckled and forked a chunk of chicken into his mouth.

  “Well, actually, I have a couple of questions. Duarte is one of them. Cough up the information, come on.”

  “He’s the illegitimate son of Gilda Trimming and Tony Jabroni. A decent kid, from what I can tell. He doesn’t have a rap sheet and stays out of the family business. Why do you ask?”

  “Is he deaf or hard of hearing?”

  “That is beyond the scope of my Intel, Vin.” He laughed and leaned back in the chair. “What’s this all about?”

  My nagging little voice kicked in.

  Tell him. It’ll be fine. Just tell him.

  Good grief, don’t you ever stop? I wondered, and then took a deep breath. I told Aaron about the coffee shop visit with Jabroni, the art gallery, and Duarte. His eyes never flickered, he didn’t blink, and his eyebrows never even quivered.

  It was nerve-wracking, to say the least. The silence grew. I yearned to squirm in my seat, but held off. It wasn’t until he leaned forward, placed his elbows on the table, and asked for some coffee that I dared to breathe.

  “Sure, coming right up.” I jumped off the stool and scrambled around making coffee. Any action was better than sitting still under the silent stare Aaron was giving me. “All right, all right, enough with the dire warnings. I have agreed to stay away from him, and I will. Are you satisfied now?”

  He rubbed his eyes before he looked at me again.

  “I won’t yell, or get mad, but I do want to say that I’ve never met anyone with the kind of bad luck you seem to have.” He shook his head. “It amazes me how you manage to get from one day to the next.”

  “Thanks a lot. You’re starting to sound like Marcus,” I said with sarcasm dripping from every word.

  His cup filled, I slid it toward him and offered milk and sugar. He nodded and drank the steaming brew plain. After a few seconds, he seemed to make a decision and leaned back in the chair, his hands clasped behind his head.

  “I’ll put a surveillance team together for the gallery and the opening of Larry’s show. Try to stay out of trouble during the opening, all right? Can you do that?”

  “It’ll be a pleasure, believe me.”

  “I wish I could believe you.” Aaron smiled. “It only takes one second before you’re caught up in the middle of some dangerous and completely out of control plot. Why? I’ll never know and probably couldn’t fathom it even if I did.” Aaron shook his head as a tiny smile tickled the corners of his mouth. “You frustrate the daylights out of me, and Marcus, as well.”

  “I know. I’m sorry about that. There seem to be forces beyond my control at work in my life. It sort of happens.” I shrugged. “Really, it does.”

  “Uh huh, so you keep telling us.” Aaron drank the last of his coffee and slid the cup forward for a refill. “When exactly is the opening?”

  “This coming Friday evening at seven. It’s a dressy affair and Larry is a wreck. Will you attend?”

  “I wouldn’t miss Larry’s great moment for anything. He’s a terrific artist, isn’t he?”

  “He’s very talented. I hope the show goes well for him.”

  I poured more coffee into the extended cup and watched him suck down the strong liquid.

  “Has Jabroni been invited to this soirée?” he asked while his dark eyes raked my face.

  “I have no idea, though Larry said Gilda had invited guests from her own list,” I lied and then swallowed the final dregs of coffee in my cup.

  “How does the gallery look?”

  “The showroom section is gorgeous with a mix of white walls and brick walls. The floors are hardwood, polished to a bright sheen. The kind of wood flooring factories had in the early days.” I opened the cupboard and whipped snacks out onto the counter. Ring Dings, cupcakes, and cheese doodles vied for space on the countertop.

  Laughter erupted from Aaron at the sight of these offerings.

  “May as well finish the meal off with extra calories.” He scooped the Ring Dings off the counter and tore the package open before offering me one of them.

  “No thanks, I’ll have cheese doodles instead.” I pried the bag open and slid doodles onto the counter. They crunched as I stuffed them into my mouth. After I swallowed them, I said, “When I went to find Duarte, I ended up in a storage room. It was skanky, filthy, and disgusting. Apparently all the money invested went into the showroom and nowhere else.”

  “That’s interesting. What was in the storage room beside Duarte?”

  “Boxes and crap piled high, but nothing important that I could see. Why? What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing important—just thinking.”

  “You don’t think that Jabroni is up to anything illicit, do you?” I asked between cheese curl crunches. “Because if he is, I don’t want Larry involved with him in any way. It’s bad enough he faux-finished the rooms at Jabroni’s house.”

  Wiping the chocolate from his lips, Aaron started to laugh. It began in his chest and rumbled forth. “Now you sound like Marcus and me.”

  “Don’t forget about Porter Anderson,” I said. “He warned me off Jabroni when I ran into him at the Providence campus.”

  “By the way,” I added, “when I was at the market today, I thought I heard familiar cackling a few aisles down from me.” I told him what had happened while Aaron continued to stare at me.

  “What is that look for?” I asked.

  “What look?”

  “It was a weird look, I can’t describe it. Don’t make me jump through hoops, just explain what you were thinking.”

  His large frame rose from the chair while dark eyebrows hiked and a disarming grin crossed his face.

  “I wasn’t thinking of anything, I was listening to your theory about the old hag. It will be good when she’s caught.”

  He walked to the door, his tall form relaxed and handsome, from the front and the rear view. I caught myself staring at his butt and quickly tore my gaze away.

  As though he knew I’d been ogling him, Aaron turned to me with a wicked grin on his face and wished me good night. I thanked him for the chicken pot pie and watched him leave.

  About an hour later, I peeked out the window at the heavy snowfall. An inch or so of white fluff covered the ground and the town lay blanketed in peace. I donned my jacket, tugged the red cloche over my head, and took a heavy-duty flashlight with me to walk to the cemetery for a visit with Livvy.

  Snowflakes muted the traffic sounds and I could hear my feet crunching the snow that covered the sidewalk. I reached the dirt road at the corner of Silk Lane and hustled past the last house on my way toward the graveyard.

  When I reached the edge of the cemetery, I slipped down the hill and let myself free fall, laughing, as I rolled in the snow like a school kid. When I came to a stop, I lay still for a moment and stared at the falling snow. It was so quiet.

  The air was warm, the snow soft, and my spirits lifted as they always did when I was with Livvy. Somehow, simply knowing she would never have passed judgment over my actions, but would have understood them instead, gave me the peace of soul that I needed.

  I kneeled at the grave and brushed snowflakes from the surface of the headstone. It had been a year since she’d passed away. I missed her sense of humor, her never-ending faith in me. The way she had gone to bat for me when my father got uptight over my job and my life in general . . . she was a loss that could never be replaced.

  Within minutes I’d confessed the latest chapters in a life over which I seemed to have no control.

  After half-an-hour of hanging around in the moist air listening to the snow settle on the ground, I retreated back the way I’d come.

  Chapter 16

  As the days flew by, the gallery opening became my focus of attention. Jabroni’s attendance was still an unknown. I had grilled Larry until he’d lost patience with me. After apologizing to him on the phone, I
reassured him that I’d attend the show.

  “I’m frantic, Vin. I can’t decide if I should wear the black tux or the new Armani suit I just bought.”

  Recognizing Larry’s nerves were frazzled, I smiled and said, “Wear Armani. It goes with everything. Aaron wears his all the time, and doesn’t he always look great?”

  A high-pitched scream of agreement pierced my eardrum as it filtered across the phone line. I held the receiver away from my ear and smirked.

  “Do you think I should?” Larry asked. “Will that hunk be attending my show? I forgot to include his name on the invitation list.” He moaned, “Oh, he must think I’m such an idiot. Who could ever forget that handsome brute? Those biceps are to die for, aren’t they?”

  Though I burst into laughter, I could still hear Larry chuckling over the phone.

  “Yes, Aaron is handsome all right. He also said he’d never let your opening night slide by without attending. He’s quite a fan of your work, you know.”

  “Really?” The word ended on a high note. “He’s such a man’s man, don’t you think?”

  “I couldn’t say, but he is definitely gorgeous. He’ll surely be dressed in Armani, so you should be, too.”

  “Oh, Vin, you make me feel so much better. I was such a wreck and now I am sort of relaxed. Come by early and have some La Grande Dame Veuve Clicquot Champagne with me.”

  I gasped. “You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you? I haven’t had Veuve Clicquot in ages. I’ll be at the gallery about half-an-hour before opening, so have my glass ready.” I chuckled, said goodbye, and disconnected the call.

  A designer to die for, Giorgio Armani is to suits what Martha Stewart is to home décor. At one time I bought a wool stretch belted Armani shift from a Second Time Around Shop on the east side of Providence. It’s a shop where women take clothes that have been rarely, if ever, worn. The little black number had still sported the price tag of six-hundred-plus bucks and I’d nearly choked when I saw it. I’d bought it for a mere hundred and fifty dollars and thought it was a good deal.

  Thinking about that dress, I rustled through the closet packed with clothing and found the sophisticated number hanging with my other evening dresses. I laid it on the bed and stared at it while considering what jewelry I could wear with it.

  The scoop neckline wasn’t low and would support the silver disc necklace I had gotten from Livvy a couple of years before. The cap sleeves complemented my shoulders and the dress tapered at the waist with a two-buckle self-belt at the center. I remembered that it came to just above my knees and looked simply elegant. I’d only worn it once and I decided this was an Armani evening.

  With a smile, I pulled the jewelry box across the dresser top. The necklace, bracelet, and earrings nestled in tissue paper. I laid them atop the dress and stood back. Yep, this was the outfit. Now all I needed was a pair of shoes.

  The shoe bank at the bottom of the closet held a perfect pair of black high heels for the occasion, and for the dress. The clothing issue solved, I wandered back into the kitchen and checked the clock. It was around five and there was time to kill before I would leave.

  There wasn’t much sense in hanging around with nothing to do but watch the clock, so I donned my jacket, hat, and gloves and headed toward the deli on foot. The newly fallen snow had melted within a day of landing and the sidewalks were clear. The weak winter sun had dipped and a cold full moon shone in the sky. A pale halo surrounded the milky whiteness of the moon’s face. I shivered a bit just looking at it.

  The traffic flowed and ebbed at the corner light. I waited for cars to stop so I could cross over to the deli. As I stepped off the sidewalk, a car flew around the corner, missing me by an inch or so. I stumbled backward and felt hands grasp my arms.

  “Well, miss, you nearly got run over.” A heavy puff of air followed the statement.

  I turned to see the pudgy priest from the Catholic Church. He’d rescued me from being run down and all I could do was stare at him.

  I nodded. “Um, I guess you’re right. I never saw that car coming.”

  “Neither did I. I only saw you stumbling backwards. There are too many reckless people in this world, miss,” he said as we walked across the street—his hand on my arm. “You take care now.” He left me on the sidewalk outside the deli and hustled across the other street toward the bank.

  In silence, I thanked God for sending the priest to my rescue and then wondered if church was such a bad idea. The thought lasted a second, no more. I shrugged and entered the Salt & Pepper Deli.

  “Hey, Vinnie. How ya doin’?” Eric asked with a grin on his face.

  “Great and you?” I asked with a return smile. If I assumed correctly, Eric and the Makepeaces were getting along swell.

  “Couldn’t be better. What can I get you?”

  “A cup of Earl Grey tea,” I said. My glance traveled the room. “Is Lola around?”

  “She’s in the back clearing up for the afternoon. Bob and I are going to close shop tonight while she goes to some opening or other. Millie is off for the day.” He poured the hot tea into a mug and held it out to me.

  I accepted the brew and wandered into the kitchen. All the counters and surfaces sparkled, as always. I smiled as Lola turned toward me.

  “This place always looks great. How do you manage it?”

  She chuckled and tossed me a copy of her new cookbook. I caught it in one hand, slopping tea onto the floor.

  “Sorry,” I said and mopped the spill with a paper towel.

  Without answering my question, she asked, “What time are you going to the opening tonight?”

  “Are you going?” I countered.

  “Of course. Aaron is taking me. I wondered if you needed a ride.”

  “Aaron is taking you?”

  “Well, not taking me, exactly. We’re riding together. Do you want to ride with us?” she asked.

  “No, I’m meeting Larry for a glass of champagne before the event starts. He says he has a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

  “Very nice. What vintage is it?” Lola asked. Then she chuckled and said, “He must be excited.”

  “I don’t know what vintage, but knowing Larry it’ll be a special year with a story attached. Excited is hardly the word for him.” I explained the Armani conversation and ended with Larry’s thoughts on Aaron. By the time I’d finished, Lola was laughing hysterically and had to wipe her eyes with a towel.

  “We do know some odd ducks, don’t we?” She laughed again.

  “Indeed.” I smiled. “By the way, have you heard from Porter Anderson?”

  Her cheeks suddenly blotched with two huge red spots and she nodded at me. I smiled and she did too.

  “He called. He said you nagged him when you met in Providence. Really Vin, if he was interested in me, he wouldn’t have to be nagged.”

  “It wasn’t like that. He was feeling insecure and I gave him a nudge, that’s all.”

  “A nudge? More like a shove if you ask me.” She shrugged. “Maybe he did need the extra courage to ask me out. I know your advice was well meant, so I’m not upset over it. I think he’s been considering my brother’s reaction to him asking me out.”

  “I think you’re right. Brothers—you can’t live with them and you can’t kill them.” I shook my head and laughed.

  As teenagers, my twin brother had been way too hostile toward anyone wanting to date me. He would hassle the daylights out of them and when I didn’t have a date for the prom, my mother wondered why. Brothers are like the measles. They’re something you have, but you’re always glad when they’re gone.

  Don’t get me wrong, I adore my brother, but I’m grateful he lives in Nebraska. To me that’s the other side of the world. We talk on the phone and email each other a lot. He was in Rhode Island last Thanksgiving, but even that visit came with issues which managed to make my life anything but mundane.

  Lola swiped the cleansing cloth across the countertop with a fina
l swish and untied her apron. She tossed them both in the hamper and we headed toward the door.

  I laid money on the counter to pay for the tea as we left the building and waved goodbye to Eric. It was quiet at the deli. Bob, the part time cook, hustled up the steps as we went down. Lola stopped to chat for a minute. At the bottom of the stairs, I glanced at the cold moon and wondered if anything unusual ever happened during a cold full moon.

  “Bob plans to work more hours here now that I have the cookbook to promote. Did you bring it with you? I want you to take a look at it,” Lola said when she joined me.

  “Of course, I have it tucked inside my jacket. It’s exciting to have your own book published, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Mmm, it is, but the publisher still expects me to do publicity for it. I don’t mind though, it gives me a chance to take some time away from the deli.”

  Her reply surprised me. I hadn’t thought she felt chained to the deli, but maybe Lola needed a change in her life.

  “Are you unhappy?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “I never thought you would feel the need to get out more. It always seemed that you were happy shaking and baking in the kitchen.”

  We stood near her car talking while people whizzed by. Some honked their horns and waved. We smiled and waved back. The sky had darkened, but the moon cast a glow over the night. I glanced upward again and thought how pale it appeared, suspended like a giant round of cheese. I turned back to Lola.

  “There is more to life than shaking and baking,” she said. “I have some other ideas that I want to pursue, but the deli will always be my first love.”

  We settled inside the MINI Cooper and she started the engine. The car idled while she sat there with an odd look on her face.

  “Did something happen while you were on vacation?”

  “Um, sort of. It was weird to be a single person at my table. Nearly everyone was with someone and I felt like the odd woman out. Don’t get me wrong, I was flattered and attended to by handsome guys, but it wasn’t the same as being part of a couple, you know?”