Murder at Veronica's Diner

by J. D. Griffo

  Seeing the three women running toward him, Umberto stood motionless for a few seconds. It was as if the wheels in his brain were turning. Should he stay and fight off three crazy women or hightail it out of there? He chose the latter and ran in the opposite direction. It was more like a fast-paced limp, but he clearly had experience fleeing the scene of many a crime, so he was moving at a very quick speed.

  Alberta was first to reach Sloan’s unmoving body, and when she knelt next to him and saw the blood running down the side of his face, his pale complexion, and his closed eyes, she thought Umberto had claimed a fourth victim. Somehow she managed to work through her growing panic and ignore the loud thumping of her heart, and she reached for Sloan’s hand to check for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

  “Call an ambulance!” Alberta cried.

  “They’re on their way,” Joyce said, raising her cell phone to indicate that she had already made the call.

  Helen knelt on the opposite side of Sloan, and Alberta could see her sister trying to maintain her composure. She knew Helen was forcing herself to remain calm to let Alberta maintain the hope that Sloan’s bruises and situation weren’t as grave as they appeared. She’d never loved her sister more deeply than she did at that moment.

  Joining them, Joyce knelt near Sloan’s head and the three women held hands in silent prayer. They remained that way until the paramedics arrived a few minutes later.

  Like zombies, the women stood up and parted ways so the medics could do their job and save Sloan’s life. They offered reassuring but vague words as they hoisted Sloan’s body onto a stretcher and began to roll him out of the alleyway. Joyce told Alberta to ride in the ambulance with Sloan and she and Helen would meet her at the hospital.

  Nodding absentmindedly, Alberta turned to go and then turned back. “Don’t forget to tell Jinx.”

  “I’ve been texting her,” Joyce said. “She and Freddy drove around trying to find Umberto, but came up empty. She’s going to call Vinny and bring him up to speed.”

  “Thank you,” Alberta said, the tears finally given permission to appear. “Thank you both.”

  Joyce gave Alberta a quick hug and Helen followed suit. When Helen was holding her sister tight, she whispered in her ear, “Guarda oltre ciò che vedi.”

  Alberta’s expression became very serious. She understood what Helen had told her, she had to look beyond what she saw. It was exactly what she had to do.

  * * *

  Jinx knew exactly what she had to do too. She rounded the corner just as she saw the ambulance and Helen’s Buick speed away. Perfect timing, she thought, to pick up the investigation when the major players might think the evening’s activity had ended.

  She parked on the side of Veronica’s Diner and she and Freddy got out and walked around the corner to Main Street so they could enter the front door of the Tranqclockery. It was time to inform Owen that another attempted murder had taken place on his property. Down deep, Jinx was hoping the elusive clock store owner would say or do something that would finally give them a hint as to his role in the latest string of crimes. All she discovered was that Owen was as elusive as ever.

  After the fourth knock they were about to give up and go around the back of the store to search for clues, when Owen suddenly opened the door. He was wearing a blue-and-gold paisley silk robe over navy-blue pajamas, classic black bedroom slippers, and his blackout sunglasses. He looked like a character out of an old Clark Gable movie or a Noël Coward play. Debonair, soigné . . . but deadly?

  “Who’s there?” Owen said.

  “It’s Jinx Maldonado and Freddy Frangelico,” Jinx replied. “Are you, um, okay?”

  “If you’re referring to my odd choice in eyewear, yes, I’m fine,” Owen informed them. “I’m having one of my ocular migraines, and it causes me to go temporarily blind.”

  “Dude! Really?” Freddy exclaimed.

  “Yes . . . dude . . . really,” Owen replied. “Do not fret. I will admit the headaches are coming more frequently than usual. I suppose it’s because of the shenanigans of late.”

  “Shenanigans?” Jinx questioned. “You mean the murders?”

  “Yes, well, put another, cruder way, one may label them as such,” Owen agreed.

  “Speaking of shenanigans, there’s been another attempt on someone’s life,” Jinx shared. “Just tonight in the alleyway.”

  “Dear me, please tell me that everyone is alright,” Owen said.

  “We don’t know yet. We were hoping you might be able to fill us in on what happened,” Freddy said. “The event did take place a few yards from here. You must have heard or seen something.”

  Smiling indulgently, Owen raised his hand to his glasses and held the frame. “Like I said, I can’t see anything, and when the migraines come over me I’ve learned it’s best to shut out the world, past, present, and future,” Owen said. “I’ve had my headset on, listening to Vivaldi. Very soothing Vivaldi is, so I haven’t heard a thing.”

  “That’s convenient,” Freddy replied.

  Jinx agreed with him, but slapped him in the chest for being so honest about his thoughts while interrogating a potential witness.

  “More like a necessary tactic for me to maintain my sanity in the midst of an uncontrollable symptom of my affliction,” Owen said. Then, without waiting for Jinx or Freddy to answer any more questions, he said, “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” And proceeded to close and lock the door.

  “He might be sort of blind and kind of pathetic, but I don’t trust that guy,” Freddy declared.

  “Dude, I couldn’t agree with you more,” Jinx said. “But there’s nothing else we can do here. Let’s head over to the hospital to see how Sloan’s doing.”

  By the time they arrived at St. Clare’s, Sloan was thankfully out of danger. No one was throwing a party yet or breaking out the champagne, but Sloan was conscious and the doctor assured Alberta there would be no permanent damage. Alberta’s relief was tremendous and she openly wept at Sloan’s bedside. She held her gold crucifix in her hands as she gave her thanks to God for sparing Sloan’s life. In her emotional state she didn’t know if Sloan was her friend, her boyfriend, or her next husband, but none of that mattered. He was someone she truly cared for, and the fact that his life was spared and he was able to come out of this vicious attack unscathed, renewed her faith in prayer and the fact that there was still good in the world. Sloan seemed to agree.

  As one of the nurses informed Alberta that she needed to leave so they could transfer Sloan to a regular room, he opened his eyes and had enough strength to give Alberta the universal sign for okay with his fingers and then made the peace sign. Greatly relieved, Alberta burst into another round of tears, grabbed Sloan’s hand and pressed it close to her face. She kissed the palm of his hand, then his lips, and told him to rest and she would see him soon. He was already drifting off to sleep when she left the room.

  She went from viewing one incredible sight to another. First, Sloan’s recovery, and then Helen and Sal sitting next to each other in the waiting room, seemingly recovering the friendship that they’d had decades ago. When Helen saw Alberta she reacted as if she got caught eating the Eucharist like it was a late-night snack.

  “What’s going on here?” Alberta asked.

  “Nothing,” Helen replied a bit too quickly. “I called Sal and asked him to come here . . . just in case.”

  “In case Sloan passed, you mean,” Alberta said, finishing the sentence for her sister. “Crisis averted. Sloan is going to need his rest, but the doctors gave him a clean bill of health. He’s going to be fine.”

  “Thank God,” Helen said, making the sign of the cross.

  “I mean no disrespect, Sal,” Alberta started, “but if Sloan did need last rites, Helen could have administered them, like she did for Teri Jo at the diner.”

  Sal and Helen exchanged a glance that Alberta found to be very curious and suspect. Whatever they were telepathically conveying to each other was making Helen
nervous as well, which was odd. Alberta had seen Helen experience many emotions in Sal’s presence—anger and frustration mainly—but never anxiety.

  “If Helen had done that, I have no doubt Sloan would have been escorted directly to the Pearly Gates, just as Teri Jo was,” Father Sal said.

  It was a beautiful sentiment and it filled Alberta’s heart with joy to hear Sal talk about Helen with such reverence. It made Helen cry.

  Alberta was dumbfounded. She had seen her sister cry before, of course, but this was different. She wasn’t sobbing, she wasn’t reacting to an immediate occurrence, she seemed to be reacting to the truth that lay behind Father Sal’s words. Worse, she looked ashamed. What in the world could Helen have done to be ashamed of?

  Father Sal clasped Helen’s hand in an attempt to give her back some of the strength that seemed to have escaped her body and said, “I think it’s time you sisters had a talk.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Il Signore sia con tutti tranne te.

  Ever since Helen was a child she’d had an innate desire to help others. Collect cans of food for hungry children, read to the blind, listen to them talk about their problems. By the time she was eleven years old she’d accepted that she had found her purpose. It wasn’t until she was about to graduate high school that she shared her vision with her parents.

  “I want to be a nun.”

  Her mother cried and her father looked confused.

  “Why would anyone want to become a nun?” her father had asked.

  “I can’t speak for anyone else,” Helen had replied. “But for me it isn’t a choice, it’s a need.”

  With her parents’ approval, if not their blessing, Helen Marie Ferrara set out on her journey to devote her life to Christ one month after graduating Immaculate Conception High School. Forty-four years later, she reversed her decision and left the convent. She’d never explained her reasons for leaving the church, until now.

  “What does Sal mean, we have to talk?” Alberta asked, concern filling her voice. “Is something wrong? Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Helen assured.

  She took a few moments to compose herself to speak again. When she did, her voice was stronger, but still fueled by long-suppressed emotions. The time had come, however, for Helen to share her truth with her baby sister.

  “It’s about why I left the convent,” Helen said.

  “Sal knows?” Alberta asked.

  “If you haven’t noticed, Sal knows a little bit about everything,” Helen replied. “And despite what I might say about the man, he knows how to keep his mouth shut. But he’s right, I owe you an explanation.”

  “Helen, you don’t owe me or anyone anything,” Alberta said.

  “You’re my family, you’re all I have, Berta, you deserve to know,” Helen replied.

  The simplicity and grace of Helen’s comment stunned Alberta and left her speechless. The depths of her sister’s heart and her ability to use words as a tool to communicate what lay there, marveled Alberta. She was too anxious to hear what Helen had to say and knew she wouldn’t be able to emulate Helen’s facility for saying the right thing, so she kept silent and listened.

  “I was working with an outreach program run by the Basilica of the Sacred Heart in Newark that was specifically created to help single mothers and their children,” Helen began. “We tried to give them alternatives to lives of selling and using drugs and show them that they could resist the pressure of joining a gang. We wanted to give them options.

  “We also helped the mothers navigate the maze of government funding for social programs, food stamps, welfare, financial aid for housing, school lunches, all the resources that lift some of the burden of raising a family on your own,” Helen said.

  “One day I was visiting a single mother, Nadia. She lived just a block away from the church and we were starting to look through applications for private high schools for her son, Emmanuel, even a few boarding schools,” Helen explained. “Manny was very bright and an exceptional artist. We thought he had a really good shot to get into one of the more prestigious schools in the area, maybe in all of Jersey, if the funding came through for him to live on campus.

  “From her window, Nadia saw Manny walking down the street,” Helen said. “He was carrying a painting that had won first prize in a city-wide contest, not just for students, but any aspiring artist. We heard the gunshot and his mother saw him fall to the ground.”

  “Oh my God,” Alberta gasped.

  She resisted the urge to say anything more or embrace her sister so Helen would have the freedom to tell the story she needed to share.

  “By the time we got downstairs, Manny was in a pool of blood,” Helen said. “I saw two groups of kids running in opposite directions and I knew immediately that it was a drug deal gone wrong or some act of gang revenge, and Manny got caught in the crossfire.

  “Nadia was holding her son and I was sitting there doing nothing, until Manny asked me to pray with him,” she recalled. “I had taught Manny some prayers and he told me that he would say them when he felt he needed some extra help to get through the day or a particular situation. Together we recited the Lord’s Prayer, but he wasn’t able to finish a Hail Mary. He was slipping away.”

  Helen looked away and stared down the hall, at nothing and everything at the same time. Alberta turned her focus to the floor to give her sister the space and time she needed to continue.

  “Nadia asked me to perform last rites on her son because she knew he wasn’t going to survive much longer,” Helen said. “And I did. She was grateful, she said it gave her peace to know her son’s soul would have a better chance in heaven than it ever had on earth. The diocese didn’t feel the same way.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alberta asked. “What you did was beautiful. It’s what you did for Teri Jo.”

  Helen looked at her sister like she used to when they were children and Alberta would state with utter conviction that Santa Claus was real and at that very moment could be heard outside their window. Her eyes then and now were filled with love, but also the knowledge that Alberta had so much more to learn about life.

  “I told Father Matthew, the pastor at Sacred Heart, what I had done, and he didn’t respond in any way that prepared me for what he did next,” Helen said. “On Sunday, in front of the whole congregation, he told the story of what I had done as an example of hubris against God, as an illustration of a woman who doesn’t know her place on earth. Il Signore sia con tutti tranne te. The Lord be with everyone except you. In front of everyone, he said that I had shamed God because I assumed I knew better than He what I was intended to do.”

  “Bastardo,” Alberta said.

  “Yes, well, he was indeed that,” Helen replied. “It didn’t matter that Nadia and most of the rest of the congregation disagreed with him. His words hurt me deeply. I wasn’t embarrassed by what he said, but I knew he wasn’t the only priest who felt that way. For quite a while I had been disillusioned with the church’s practice and public statements, but I knew right there, sitting in that pew listening to Father Matthew’s words, I could no longer serve an institution that could be so closed-minded and unforgiving,” Helen said. “The very next day I quit.”

  Alberta inhaled deeply and let the breath slowly leave her body. She always knew there was an underlying reason for why Helen left the convent, and she never believed Helen’s vague, blasé explanations that it was time for her to go or that she had done everything she could. She never imagined anything as profound or life changing as this. It was no secret that Alberta had always admired her sister, but now, after hearing the secret that she had kept hidden for so long, she understood her. That was much more important.

  “You have always been the strongest person I have ever known,” Alberta said. “I don’t have to tell you that you did the right thing, you already know that, but I will tell you that I have never loved you more than I do right now.”

  Helen turned to face Alberta and smiled. “
I already knew that too.”

  The sisters embraced and cried a few more tears, and then Alberta asked a question that brought their conversation full circle.

  “Did Father Sal know all about this when it was happening?”

  Nodding her head decisively, Helen replied, “That son of a b had my back every step of the way.”

  Obviously Helen wasn’t the only person Alberta saw in a completely new light. Father Sal had more layers to his character than he did shoes.

  After all these years, Alberta finally knew why her sister left the convent. Her heart ached for the turmoil and pain Helen went through, and although she understood why Helen chose to work through her anguish alone, Alberta wanted Helen to know there shouldn’t be any secrets between them. They were sisters and should be confidants.

  “Promise me one thing, Helen,” Alberta said.

  “What’s that?” Helen asked.

  “No more secrets.”

  “I promise.”

  Alberta stood up and extended her hand toward Helen. “I don’t know about you, sis, but I’m exhausted. Let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  After a brief nap on her couch, Alberta fed Lola, took a shower, and drove back to the hospital to see how Sloan was doing. Although the doctors assured her that he would have a full recovery, he wasn’t out of the woods yet, and Alberta wasn’t going to stop worrying until he was discharged. Even then she doubted that she would ever stop feeling guilty. She blamed herself for him getting attacked. If it wasn’t for her desire to contact Umberto, he wouldn’t be lying on a hospital bed.

  She paused before the entrance to St. Clare’s because she wasn’t going to aid in Sloan’s recovery if she was riddled with guilt and self-loathing. This wasn’t about her, it was about Sloan. What was more certain, she didn’t control him, he was a grown man and he made his own decisions. He knew what he was getting into when he walked down that alley. She knew that if she uttered her thoughts she would be perceived as cold and harsh, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Guilt was not concern, and shame was not sympathy. Alberta raised her chin and entered the hospital and smiled proudly—some days it wasn’t so hard being an adult.