by J. D. Griffo
“Vin, it’s only been twenty-four hours,” Alberta said. “When have we ever solved a case that quickly? These things take time.”
Rubbing his face with his hands, Vinny sighed heavily. “I know all that, it’s just that I hate the start of a murder investigation. It never gets easier.”
“Which is what makes you a terrific chief of police,” Jinx said. “Your empathy.”
“Empathy doesn’t solve cases,” Vinny replied. “Clues do, and we don’t have any. There were no fingerprints on the murder weapon, and the butcher knife was a very common brand.”
“It wasn’t from the diner?” Alberta asked.
“No, we checked the inventory and nothing was missing,” Vinny explained. “Plus, the knife wasn’t commercial grade, just a plain old butcher knife.”
“Why buy an expensive model when the cheap version does the trick?” Jinx asked rhetorically.
“So much for empathy,” Vinny commented.
“Sorry about that,” Jinx said. “I speak before I think . . . a lot.”
“You’re a Ferrara,” Vinny said. “I expect nothing less.”
“Stop flattering us, Vinny,” Alberta said. “We need to focus.”
Duly admonished, Vinny went on to explain that they had interviewed everyone in the diner and no one saw Teri Jo get stabbed or even saw her walking around with a knife stuck in her back until she collapsed on the floor. Since there were no security cameras in or around the diner, they couldn’t rely on videotape to fill in the blanks.
More than half of the diners didn’t know the victim’s name, and the other half only knew her on a superficial level, so even though Teri Jo had been living in town for quite some time, she hadn’t made any friends. Most frustrating was that no one who was interviewed said anything that could be held against them. No one seemed to have a motive to commit murder, even though one of them must have.
“The killer had to be in the diner waiting for Teri, and at some point stabbed her when no one was looking,” Vinny deduced.
“Or the person was lurking outside,” Alberta said.
“No, she was murdered inside the diner,” Vinny corrected. “At no point did she leave.”
“That’s true, but maybe the murderer did,” Jinx mused. “There’s a window in the back.”
“How do you know that?” Vinny asked. “There’s no reason to go back there. The parking lot is in the front and on the side. There’s only an alleyway in the back.”
“You know how we know,” Jinx said. “We were snooping around the back, but before you have a seizure and blood drips out of your eyes like a bad guy from a James Bond movie, we didn’t disrupt anything, we just looked around.”
Instead of having a seizure, Vinny laughed.
“I know I’m not going to stop you and your cohorts-in-crime from doing what you’re going to do,” Vinny confessed. “But could we please work together and share clues and information?”
“Of course,” Alberta and Jinx answered simultaneously.
Of course, they were also lying simultaneously because they weren’t going to tell Vinny that Veronica lied to them about being married, and Jinx wasn’t going to show Vinny the Swiss girl on a swing figurine that was currently in her purse. They did, however, want information from Vinny.
“How well do you know Veronica?” Alberta asked. “Is there a man in her life?”
Vinny thought a moment before responding. “I don’t know her as well as some of the other businesspeople in town, and as far as I know she’s single. Then again, I’m not as fascinated by someone’s private life as some people are.”
Ignoring Vinny’s jab, Alberta continued her line of questioning. “When did Veronica move to Tranquility?”
“She’s relatively new, past ten years maybe,” Vinny replied. “I believe she came here when she bought the diner.”
“It wasn’t always Veronica’s Diner?” Jinx asked.
“No, before that it was called Godfather’s Diner,” Vinny explained. “It was owned by a company. Can’t remember the name, but I never had any trouble with them.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door and turned around to see Tambra standing in the doorway.
“Sorry, Chief, but you have to leave to get to that town council meeting,” she announced.
“Thanks,” Vinny replied. Walking to the door, he added without turning around, “You ladies know your way out.”
“But this is becoming like a second home to us,” Alberta joked.
Vinny’s voice echoed through the police station as walked outside. “Get out of my office!”
“Let’s go, lovey,” Alberta said.
“I think we should stay to, you know, show Vinny who’s boss,” Jinx asserted.
“Trust me, down deep, he knows,” Alberta said. “But even though Vinny doesn’t know anything about the company that used to own the diner, I know someone who does.”
“Who?”
“Sloan,” Alberta replied.
“Of course! Your man comes to the rescue,” Jinx said with a beaming smile. “You go talk to Sloan. I have to get to work before Wyck lets Calhoun take the lead on this one.”
“Your editor would never give such a juicy story to your rival,” Alberta protested. “You’ve paid your dues.”
“Oh, Gram, you know nothing about the newspaper business,” Jinx said. “Go pump your boyfriend for information and I’ll talk to you later.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Alberta was at the Tranquility Public Library waiting for Sloan McLelland, the head librarian and her boyfriend. She still found the word difficult to say. Not because it didn’t define her relationship with Sloan, but because he was the first real boyfriend she ever had in her life.
As the youngest daughter in a strict Italian family, growing up in northern New Jersey at a time when women were not only known as the fairer sex but the inferior sex by many as well, Alberta hadn’t been able to make a lot of her own choices. She was no different than the rest of the girls on her block, her state, or in the country. They were all, to some degree, controlled by the men in their lives. And Frank Ferrara was controlling.
He was also loving, a good provider, funny, and a wonderful father, but he was a control freak just the same. When it came time for Alberta to date, Frank had the final say on who was worthy of his daughter’s hand, and very few passed muster. It didn’t help that her older sister, Helen, had very little interest in boys when she was a teenager, having already decided to enter a convent when she graduated high school. As a result, Frank didn’t have any experience navigating the tumultuous waters of a daughter’s romantic life when Alberta came of age, so instead of letting Alberta go out in the world and sail uncharted territory on her own, he kept her safely docked at harbor. He thought he was protecting her, but he was only stunting her growth.
When Sammy Scaglione came into Alberta’s life, he was the first man her father truly approved of, primarily because he came from around the corner and technically had been part of Alberta’s life since her birth. He was familiar and Italian, so what could go wrong? Alberta went from first date to wedding night in record time. Of course, she and Sammy dated, but they each knew where the relationship was leading, and that outside forces were pushing them toward the altar whether they wanted to land there or not. Their families, friends, even society at large expected them to get married, so how could they disappoint everyone? Alberta may not have disappointed those around her, but she surely disappointed herself.
Now as a single woman in her mid-sixties, she was experiencing what it was like to be a girlfriend for the first time. It was frightening, exhilarating, and a new experience every time she was in Sloan’s company. She loved every minute of it.
By the huge grin on Sloan’s face it was evident that he did too.
“What a wonderful surprise to see you in the middle of the day,” Sloan said.
He kissed Alberta on the lips, which was her wonderful surprise in the middle o
f the day, and then ushered her into his office.
“Do you want some coffee, tea, or perhaps me?” Sloan asked, his grin growing wider.
“Don’t get salty on me, Mr. McLelland. I’m here on official business,” Alberta said, trying hard not to smile in response.
“Well then, Miss Ferrara, please have a seat and tell me why you’re here.”
Sloan sat in the chair behind his desk, and for the second time that day Alberta sat across from an important man in her life. This man, however, was different. More than that, he made her feel different. He hadn’t spoken out of turn when he addressed her by her maiden name; he looked at her as Miss Ferrara, not Mrs. Scaglione. He wasn’t interested in the woman who was married for decades to a man who she was never truly in love with, or the woman whose identity was defined by being some man’s wife. Sloan wanted to get to know the woman she was when she was single, then and now.
Staring at Sloan and silently remarking at how un-Italian he looked, his WASP-y features, sandy-colored hair, and trim physique, Alberta felt her heart flutter. Part of it had to do with how attractive she found Sloan and how attractive such a feeling was for her to have. But it was also hearing her maiden name spoken aloud after so many years of being Mrs. Scaglione. Who was this Miss Ferrara? Did Alberta even remember?
Shaking her head to free herself from such ruminations that might never be resolved, Alberta concentrated on the reason she had come to the library.
“What do you know about Godfather’s Diner?”
“Una cena con qualsiasi altro nome,” Sloan replied.
“Someone’s been brushing up on his Italian,” Alberta remarked. “A diner by any other name might be a totally different kind of diner. What was Godfather’s Diner like before it became Veronica’s Diner?”
“They used to douse everything in garlic, even the eggs Benedict,” Sloan replied. “You know those Eye-talians.”
“Watch it, buster,” Alberta said good-naturedly. “Garlic is good for what ails you.”
“But not necessarily before nine a.m.,” Sloan said. “Now that Veronica’s taken over, the diner and the food on the menu are so much better.”
At the mention of another woman’s excellent cooking, Alberta’s expression immediately changed from playful to perturbed. Sloan knew what he had to do.
“Not nearly as good as your cooking, though,” he said quickly. “No one’s that much of a magician in the kitchen.”
“Well saved, Sloan,” Alberta said. “But do you like Veronica as much as you like her food?”
Sloan thought for a moment before replying. “I don’t like or dislike her, actually. It’s been hard to get to know her since she’s come to town. She keeps to herself mainly.”
“Does she have a boyfriend?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Can she be trusted?”
“Do you think Veronica killed Teri Jo?”
Another facet of Sloan’s personality that Alberta appreciated was that he was blunt and straightforward. Unlike in her relationship with Sammy, she didn’t have to guess as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. Sloan didn’t lie to her or conceal things from her out of some misguided protection; he treated her like an equal.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Alberta replied. “I do get a strange sensazione . . . a weird vibe from her, but it might be because Helen doesn’t trust her and Helen’s got good instincts about people, so I need to do some digging.”
Taking the cue perfectly, Sloan said, “Then let’s dig.”
Alberta watched as Sloan typed away at his computer, searching the Internet for clues to Godfather’s Diner and both its origin and demise in Tranquility. Once again she thought of her husband, and wondered if she’d ever watched him with such pleasurable intent. Before she could answer, Sloan cheered.
“Found something! Godfather’s Diner was owned by a company called Third Wheel, Inc.,” Sloan announced. “There’s no other information except that it’s incorporated in Delaware.”
“Let’s go to Delaware,” Alberta declared.
Laughing, Sloan replied, “The company isn’t based there, it’s only incorporated there for tax purposes.”
“Madon! Sometimes I’m a stunod.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, you are not a stunod?” Sloan chastised.
Alberta shrugged her shoulders. “Old habits.”
“Let me see if I can find out where Third Wheel is located,” Sloan said.
Just as he was resuming his Internet search, a loud ping reverberated through his office, signaling that one of them had received a text message. When Alberta looked at her cell phone and gasped, Sloan knew no one had reached out to him. Whoever had reached out to Alberta, however, hadn’t shared news accompanied by a smiley-face emoji.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I got a text from my home security company,” Alberta said. “Someone’s broken into my house!”
CHAPTER 5
Fai attenzione a un estraneo con regali.
Only when they pulled up to 22 Memory Lake Road and saw a police car parked in front of Alberta’s house, did Alberta start to panic. This wasn’t a false alarm, someone had indeed tried to break into her home. Maybe they were still there.
Sensing Alberta’s fear, Sloan went into full-on boyfriend mode. He didn’t try to convince Alberta she was worrying for no reason, he didn’t placate her or treat her like an overemotional woman. He grabbed her hand, looked her in the eye, and said, “Let’s find out what’s going on.”
Together they walked around the side of the house, confident but cautious, not entirely sure what or who they were going to find. When they entered the backyard they were stunned by what they saw.
“Lola!”
Alberta’s cry didn’t startle her cat because Lola was too preoccupied taking in all the sights she had only seen through the barrier of the kitchen window. Plus, she was nestled in Tambra’s arms, so she was safe and secure while feeling the soft wind against her fur and smelling the sweet scent of the hydrangeas and roses that were so fragrant it made her nose twitch. She was in heaven, while Alberta was in shock.
“What is Lola doing outside?” she asked.
“When I got here, I found her lounging near the lake,” Tambra explained, running her fingers up and down Lola’s coat.
“How did she get there?” Sloan followed up.
Instead of answering, Tambra pointed at Alberta’s kitchen window, or what was left of it.
“Someone threw a rock into your kitchen and busted the whole window,” Tambra said. “It gave Lola just enough room to come outside and investigate who the culprit was, but she must’ve gotten lazy and plopped down to take a nap. Don’t worry, we checked her out and she’s fine, no cuts or bruises anywhere on this gorgeous little girl.”
Tambra lifted Lola into the air and the cat seemed to relish the opportunity to see even more of the outside landscape. She purred louder and not very happily when Alberta grabbed her and cradled her in her arms.
“Dio mio! Thank God you’re alright.”
“Did you find who did this?” Sloan asked.
“No, the only one here when we arrived was Lola,” Tambra replied. “Once the security company knew we were here they were able to unlock the house remotely and let us in. We did a complete search, and it doesn’t look like anyone got inside. All they did was throw a rock through your window, which was taken back to headquarters to check for fingerprints.”
“Dio onnipotente.” Alberta sighed. “I can’t believe someone would do this.”
“And got away with it,” Sloan added. “I trust there will be a cop outside to watch the house for the next few days.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Alberta scoffed.
“On the contrary, I think it is,” Tambra said. “I’ve already arranged to have a cop parked in front and do some walk-bys in the back around the lake. Do I think the vandal will be a repeat offender? Not really, but it is a necessary precau
tion.”
“If you say so,” Alberta said. “Thank you.”
“It’s what we do,” Tambra replied. “Now that I know you have your very own security guard, I can leave you to get your house back in order.”
“I guess I have to call to get that window fixed,” Alberta said.
“The security company already did that for you. They said it’s in your contract,” Tambra conveyed.
“I had no idea I even had a contract with them,” Alberta replied. “So much for paying attention to the details.”
Tambra smiled. “In my line of work you learn the devil is always in the details.”
* * *
A few hours later, Alberta’s kitchen window was back to its original state and all but Lola seemed to be happy with the restoration. Once Helen and Joyce arrived, Alberta convinced Sloan he should go back to the library and catch up on the work he abandoned when they got the distress call. As the three women sat around Alberta’s kitchen table, life returned to normal, except that Lola wouldn’t stop pawing at the newly minted window.
“Now that Lola’s gotten a taste of the outdoor life, she may not want to stay confined to one space any longer,” Helen surmised as she won her third game of solitaire.
“Sounds like another lady I know,” Joyce remarked.
If Helen understood that Joyce was comparing Lola’s frustration at being trapped inside with Helen’s recent departure from the convent, she played dumb. However, she was not yet ready to play deaf.
“Remember that sound we heard outside the other night?” Helen asked, shuffling her cards loudly. “It wasn’t an animal, there was someone out there stalking the joint.”
“I have a stalker?” Alberta cried.
“Join the club,” Helen remarked, ironically turning over the ace of clubs.
“Wait a second,” Joyce said. “Maybe the stalker’s stal-kee wasn’t Alberta, but Veronica.”
“What?” Alberta asked. “Do you really think that could be true?”
“Absolutely not,” Helen declared.
Although Joyce protested that it could be a possibility, given that there was a murder at Veronica’s Diner the same day they heard a noise in Alberta’s backyard while Veronica was visiting, Helen adamantly rejected that scenario.