Murder at Veronica's Diner

by J. D. Griffo

  “You know what else this means?” Alberta asked. She didn’t wait for a response before answering her own question. “We really have gotten ourselves our very own stalker.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Toccare il cielo con un dito.

  The idea that her life could be in danger hadn’t registered in Alberta’s mind. She wasn’t being naïve, she didn’t want to give in to fear. Because if she did, she would abandon all thought of trying to find out who killed Teri Jo or delving into any other mystery that might come her way. Thanks to her granddaughter, she had found a new purpose in life, writing wrongs and exposing criminals who thought they had gotten away with murder. A potential stalker wasn’t going to take all that away. If nothing else, Alberta knew she was stronger than that.

  However, she was worried for her family. Twice now they’d heard an intruder in her backyard. The person had yet to reveal their face, their motive, or their intention, although on one occasion they took action by throwing Alberta’s sundial through her kitchen window. Maybe that act of violence had something to do with the Tranqclockery and was a means of sending a clandestine message to Alberta and her family, but maybe it was just an act of violence and the intruder grabbed the first thing he could find. Both were disturbing for entirely different reasons. One meant their stalker was not the best at dropping clues, the other that he had no desire to offer a clue and was more interested in causing harm.

  Alberta’s wary nature immediately focused on the latter, since she knew people could be harmful and often lashed out without thinking clearly. But after having worked on several cases involving criminal masterminds, she had begun to adopt the theory that there are no coincidences. That’s why she wasn’t frantically worried that their stalker was going to step up his game plan and harm them physically. They were investigating a murder that had a link to a clock shop, so a sundial thrown through her window was not a coincidence, but rather a deliberate attempt to gain their attention. Unfortunately, by the next morning it had also gained the attention of the chief of police.

  “Why didn’t you call me immediately, Alfie?” Vinny yelled from the phone. “Why did I have to hear there was another incident on your property from my own department?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry,” Alberta replied.

  “Well, I am worried!”

  “That’s very sweet of you, Vin,” Alberta replied, stirring a pot of pasta sauce that was bubbling in a pot on her stove. “But I’m making gravy.”

  Coming from the same Sicilian heritage as Alberta, Vinny grew up calling red pasta sauce gravy. This sometimes caused confusion, because to most of the world gravy was what was used on turkey, meatloaf, and open-faced roast beef sandwiches. Most of the times Southern Italians referred to both sauces as gravy, and depending upon the recipe, they knew which kind of gravy they were speaking about. But in deference to those who make a clear distinction between the two, the other gravy was called brown gravy. In an Italian woman’s kitchen like Alberta’s, there was no doubt which kind of gravy garnered all the attention.

  “You’re making gravy at seven in the morning?” Vinny asked.

  “If I remember correctly, your mother used to make gravy at five a.m. while she was cooking your father’s breakfast,” Alberta replied.

  “You’re right about that,” Vinny agreed, smiling at the memory. “But that was a long time ago, Alfie.”

  “So what? If it was good enough for our parents, it’s good enough for us,” Alberta shared.

  Alberta shook the excess gravy off of the wooden ladle and then placed it onto the ceramic spoon rest Jinx picked up for her a while back. It was in the shape of a black cat, complete with a long tail that acted as the handle. Jinx had even used some Wite-Out to draw a streak of white fur over the cat’s left eye so it would look just like Lola. Every time Alberta used the spoon rest she smiled and thought of her feline baby. That’s when she realized Vinny might be right.

  Lola had already gotten out of the house thanks to the escape hatch the intruder created by obliterating her kitchen window. Luckily, Lola was a true Italian and realized there was absolutely no reason to ever leave home. But what if the next time she got a little bit of the gypsy in her and wanted to roam around the area? Or, God forbid, what if the next time the intruder came for a visit he got more brazen and broke in? He might harm Lola to send an even more serious message, or he might kidnap her. When the situation escalated and became perilous, Alberta and her family had proven they could take care of themselves, but Lola would not be able to fend off a catnapping.

  “Are you really worried, Vin?” Alberta asked, her voice now full of concern. “Or are you just being dramatic?”

  In response, Vinny’s voice blared dramatically into Alberta’s ear. “I’m never dramatic!”

  “Non farmi ridere!” Alberta laughed. “Do I have to remind you that you threatened to kill yourself because Charlene DeFelippo broke up with you?”

  “I was seventeen!” Vinny wailed. “I don’t think you can really kill yourself by taking an overdose of St. Joseph aspirin.”

  “I don’t know about that, but what I want to know is if you’re serious.” Alberta asked, “Should we really be worried?”

  There was a pause after she posed her question, and if Alberta hadn’t been deeply interested in hearing Vinny’s response, she would have known what was coming and prepared accordingly. Instead, she got an earful.

  “You have a stalker!” Vinny yelled. “Of course I’m worried! You and the rest of your crazy coffee klatch ladies should be worried too!”

  Despite the fact that she was irked by his description of their amateur detective group, Alberta could hear the concern in his voice shrouded by the shrieking. When she thought about it logically, she agreed with him. There was someone out there trying to get their attention for most likely bad intentions. However, it also meant that they were getting closer to uncovering important clues that could help solve their case. Despite the risk, they had to press on. Vinny had a completely different point of view.

  “I think you should lie low for a while and forget about Teri Jo’s murder,” Vinny said. “Leave the detective work to the detectives.”

  “We might not have badges, but we’re detectives too,” Alberta argued.

  Vinny didn’t want to get sidetracked from his mission, so he didn’t take the bait. He also knew it wouldn’t do any good because on several previous occasions he had told Alberta that he needed her family’s help in solving a crime. The Ferraras had proven themselves more than capable when it came to criminal investigations, but they were still amateurs and not fully aware of how desperate and downright evil some criminals could be. As the chief of police of Tranquility, and Alberta’s longtime friend, it was his job to keep them safe. Unfortunately, he needed their help.

  “Regardless of your honorary position in this town and with this police department,” Vinny said, hoping his pandering wouldn’t sound so obvious, “you need to be careful. This case could be a lot bigger than any of us think.”

  “You think the Mafia is involved?” Alberta asked.

  “No! Why would you even ask that?” Vinny replied.

  “We’re Italian, Vin!” Alberta cried. “Nothing is bigger or badder than the Mafia.”

  “They are not involved, but another crime family is,” Vinny confirmed.

  “Who?” Alberta demanded.

  “We did some digging and found out that Third Wheel, Inc. is owned by the Rizzoli family in Brooklyn.”

  From the other side of the kitchen, Lola, who was lying on the floor, stretched and let out a loud yawn. It was as if Lola was acting out how Alberta felt. Vinny’s revelation was shocking news, although they had taken it a step further and connected Teri Jo to the Rizzolis. Alberta wasn’t sure if Vinny had discovered that link yet and was deliberately keeping it out of the conversation, or if the Tranquility police force was still in the dark about that important tidbit. She knew that she should share the information she and the ladie
s had uncovered with Vinny, but she also knew that if she did fill Vinny in, he would use the newfound knowledge to take over the investigation and push their involvement to the sidelines. She was done being a bystander and wanted to be a participant. Still, a tiny part of Alberta wanted to gloat, but the wiser part knew it was smarter to play the fool.

  “Really?” Alberta said. “Who are they? I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Minor thugs,” Vinny replied. “They haven’t done anything really bad yet, but they’ve gotten close. You’ve got to be careful, Alfie.”

  “Didn’t Tambra say that a cop was positioned outside my house?” Alberta asked.

  “Yes, and we’ll keep someone on watch, but we can’t protect all four of you twenty-four seven,” Vinny replied. “You have to help us out a little bit.”

  “Isn’t that what we always do, Vin? Help out the police force,” Alberta said. She knew her snarky comment was going to anger Vinny, so she quickly added, “Non ti preoccupare. Don’t worry, I hear you loud and clear, and will advise the rest of the crazy coffee-klatch ladies to be extra careful until this stalker is caught. Thanks, Vin!”

  When Alberta ended the call she didn’t even put the phone back into its cradle on the wall, but quickly dialed the other important man in her life.

  “Sloan, when do you get in to work?” Alberta asked.

  “Well, good morning to you too,” Sloan replied, his tone upbeat even at such an early hour.

  “Sorry, good morning,” Alberta said, her voice sounding much sweeter than a few seconds ago. “But answer me, what time?”

  “I’m actually getting ready to leave now. I have to prepare for the big book fair coming up next month,” Sloan said. “You wouldn’t believe how much work—”

  Alberta cut him off. “I’ll meet you at the library in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  As always, Sloan was delighted to see Alberta waiting for him when he pulled into the library parking lot. Ever since they met, he felt more energized than usual and his life had taken on a new purpose. His life was full before he met Alberta, but now his life had a little more meaning. Plus, a lot more adventure.

  “I’d like to think you wanted to see my smiling face this early in the morning,” Sloan said, giving Alberta a kiss on the lips. “But I’m sure this has something to do with Teri Jo’s murder.”

  Feigning shock, Alberta placed her hand over her heart and stumbled back into the front door. “Sono scioccato!” Alberta cried. “I am shocked that you would think such a thing, Sloan. Utterly and irreversibly shocked!”

  Ignoring Alberta’s performance, Sloan unlocked the front door and held it open for Alberta to enter. “Would Anna Magnani like to make her entrance?”

  “Hush up!” Alberta said, walking into the library. “Or I won’t let you taste the anisette cookies I brought. Joyce baked them, so you know they’re good.”

  “Culinary bribery will get you everywhere,” Sloan joked. “So what lead are we investigating now?”

  “Vinny told me this morning that Third Wheel, Inc. is owned by the Rizzoli family,” Alberta conveyed.

  “That is big news,” Sloan replied. “But you were halfway there and made the diner connection.”

  “I know, but if Vinny found it out that means he’s closing in, and the police might soon find out that Teri Jo is actually Theresa Josefina Rizzoli,” Alberta stated. “I was hoping you were able to find some more information on Third Wheel that would lead us to Teri Jo’s brother, who’s still among the missing.”

  Sloan grinned and Alberta knew he wasn’t just happy to be in her presence, which was something she did acknowledge and was learning to embrace; she knew it also meant that he had more information to share.

  “Spill it, Sloan!” Alberta demanded. “I know what that smile means.”

  “It means I can one-up Vinny,” Sloan shared.

  “This isn’t a competition, Sloan,” Alberta scolded.

  “Maybe not, but I’d rather be the fella who comes to your rescue,” Sloan flirted, then quickly retracted his flirt. “Not that you or any of the Ferrara women need rescuing.”

  “That’s true, but a woman always likes to know someone is nearby to rescue her, just in case she needs it,” Alberta said. “Tell me what you found out.”

  Sloan reached for a file on his desk and opened it up. It contained some printouts from the Internet, the first linking Third Wheel to Rusk County Airport in Texas, which was the same state where Helen said Teri Jo’s brother, Dominic, was now living. The second page detailed a search for Dominic Rizzoli, showing that he had flown into the airport in Henderson, Texas, multiple times over the last six months.

  “This is definitely what Jinx would call a scoop!” Alberta cried. “We have to get in touch with Dominic. He may not even know that his sister is dead. Her family might not care about her, but if Teri was as close to Dominic as she implied when she spoke to Helen, he would definitely want to know what happened to his sister.”

  “I think I can help make that introduction happen,” Sloan said.

  Sloan turned the page and showed Alberta that Dominic’s flight schedule was almost routine: He traveled on the second and seventeenth of every month.

  “The seventeenth is in two days,” Sloan said. “You better pack a bag because you’re going to Texas.”

  * * *

  Later that night, they all gathered at Jinx’s apartment to discuss their latest travel plans. Jinx’s kitchen table was smaller than Alberta’s, so they had to add some folding chairs and squeeze a little closer together so everyone could fit. They also had to use some snack trays to hold the smorgasbord of food, because the array of containers, platters, and bowls wouldn’t fit on the table along with everyone’s plates. Alberta had brought two trays of lasagna, one vegetarian and the other, as she liked to call it, normal, and a leftover bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. Joyce brought two huge trays of antipasto, and Helen brought three loaves of fresh, crusty Italian bread and three boxes of Entenmann’s cakes for dessert.

  Sloan came armed with two bottles of cabernet, and Freddy had made the salad himself. He even let everyone know that he mixed his own salad dressing.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Freddy,” Helen warned.

  “Why not, Aunt Helen?” Freddy asked.

  “Because if it stinks we’ll all know it was your fault,” Helen said.

  “You know you’re gonna love my dressing as much as you’ve come to love me,” Freddy declared.

  Silence fell over the apartment as Helen glared at Freddy. How she would respond to outsiders was a variable, an X factor. The truth was that no matter how close Freddy had gotten to the Ferraras and proven his loyalty countless times, until he put a ring on Jinx’s finger he would still be classified as an outsider.

  Helen broke the end of one of the loaves of bread and dipped it into the bowl filled with Freddy’s homemade salad dressing. She plopped the bread into her mouth and chewed for what felt like an eternity.

  “It tastes like you made it,” Helen said. “Not nearly enough garlic, but good enough.” She flashed a quick smile that was just for Freddy’s eyes and added, “Just like you, Mr. Frangelico.”

  Although the evening passed the Helen test, they needed to make sure they could speak openly, since they were going to be talking about classified information.

  “Lovey, where’s your roommate?” Alberta asked.

  “Nola went away with her boyfriend for a few days,” Jinx replied. “We have the place to ourselves.”

  “I’m glad to hear that she’s dating again,” Alberta said. “Do you like this one?”

  Before responding, Jinx made a face and caught Freddy’s eyes. Her expression let them all know that she didn’t fully approve of Nola’s latest beau.

  “Ah Madon!” Alberta cried. “What’s wrong with this one?”

  Tilting her head from side to side while opening up the first bottle of cabernet, Jinx replied, “Nothing that involves police intervention, but
he’s a theatre nerd too, so all the two of them ever talk about is Shakespeare this and Sondheim that. But she seems happy, so I’m keeping my mouth shut.”

  “Speaking of mouths,” Sloan said, “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

  During dinner no one’s mouth stayed shut for more than two seconds. They were either eating or talking or both. First they discussed if they should try and make contact with the Rizzoli family to tell them that Teri Jo had been murdered. They weighed the pros and cons of reaching out or staying silent, including any moral responsibility they might have to share the news, and decided they would, for once, take Vinny’s advice and not make any contact with the criminal clan. Trying to find a murderer was one thing; coming face-to-face with a large, corrupt, and potentially deadly Italian family was quite another.

  Next on the agenda was arranging travel plans to get to Henderson, Texas, and specifically the Rusk County Airport, in an attempt to make contact with Dominic Rizzoli. Talking to him privately, far away from the rest of the Rizzolis in Brooklyn, was much less scary an alternative.

  “I guess I’ll need to gas up the Buick,” Helen said, biting into a meatball.

  “Why drive when you can fly?” Freddy suggested.

  “He’s right, Helen,” Alberta said. “A road trip to Texas would be fun, but it’s much quicker to fly. I’ll arrange all the tickets.”

  “You should skip all that and have Owen fly you,” Freddy said, chomping on some salad. “You’re right, Aunt Helen, next time I won’t skimp on the garlic.”

  “What do you mean, Owen should fly us?” Jinx asked. “Is he a pilot?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Freddy said, nodding with his mouth full. After he swallowed, he continued, “He used to fly a helicopter at a hospital in Jersey City.”

  “Christ Hospital?” Joyce asked.

  “That’s the one,” Freddy said. “I thought about getting my pilot’s license a few years ago, so I took lessons and Owen was there renewing his license. He’s a registered pilot. He even has his own plane. A used one, but still a mighty fine bird.”