Lethal Play

by Loretta Giacoletto

  Just then the door swung open. In walked Quinella Armstrong, Detective Reardan, and Detective Winchester. The two detectives took their usual seats by the wall; Quinella took hers at the head of the table.

  “I do apologize for the urgency of this meeting,” she said. “But no case is really closed until all the corners are tucked in tighter than sheets on an Eagle Scout’s bed. Right, Matt?”

  “Yes, Ms. Armstrong.”

  “Good attitude, I like that. Same rules apply as before, are we all in agreement.”

  Francesca nodded; she didn’t bother looking at the others—her beloved Matt along with Vince filling in for the Canelli men. Fred didn’t count; lawyers could speak up whenever they felt the need. She signed more papers, along with Matt whose hand was shaking until she covered it with hers.

  Quinella cleared her throat, the equivalent of banging a gavel. “Now about the night of Rex Meredith’s death, where were you, Matt?”

  “As I told you before, I couldn’t stomach another White Castle, not after Park’s bloody nose, so I got out of Logan’s SUV and walked home.”

  “And after you got home?”

  “No big deal, it was late. I was tired and crashed early.”

  “Before or after the phone call, you know the one I mean so don’t even try convincing me otherwise.”

  Matt’s jaw tightened, his mouth barely twitched. Francesca held her breath as he shifted his glance from Vince to Fred and back to Vince. Where was he going with this? What did Fred or Vince know that he hadn’t told her?

  “Not unless you tell me, Ms. Armstrong.”

  “I’d rather hear it from you.” Quinella said. “Or, we could bring in your buddies for another session. All of you together … hm-m, it might not be such a bad idea, or maybe one at a time. Once those boys get on a roll there is no stopping them.” She turned her head toward the wall. “Let’s start with Oliver Billings. Detective Reardan, could you—”

  As if on cue, Reardan stood up.

  “Leave Bills out of this,” Matt said. “He’s been through enough already, they all have.”

  “How fraternal, they said the same about you.”

  Reardan sat down.

  “Nice,” Winchester whispered. “The kid’s worked up a sweat again.”

  “To answer your question: yes, Bills called me that night from the soccer field. He and Logan and Zack were sitting in the Durango. They saw Coach knock the shit out of my mom, saw the two of them climb in his back seat.”

  Francesca closed her eyes, wanting to again bury the resurrected memory. If only she could erase it from Matt’s brain. If only she hadn’t made a bargain with the devil. If only she’d kept Ben in bed ten more minutes that rainy morning if wouldn’t have been his last. All this to fulfill the dream once shared by Matt and his dad, she should’ve stayed out of it. Let the game run its course. Tears were streaming down Matt’s face. She’d rather take another beating than see him cry.

  “Bills said he and the guys didn’t feel right about leaving and didn’t feel right about staying but they thought I should know the score. We all knew Coach was a bastard but—”

  “But you stayed home, didn’t you,” Francesca said. “Knowing I was quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Now, Mama … we agreed to let Matt tell his story without any help from you. Go ahead, Matt.”

  “I nearly went out of my mind, stuck at home and not knowing what to do. But then I heard a car door slam and saw Vince outside. I figured he stopped by to discuss the game so I grabbed my jacket and hurried out to meet him. I told him there was an emergency at the soccer field and I needed to get there right away because a friend needed my help.”

  Quinella interrupted him with one finger. “This is true, Mr. Valente?”

  Vince opened his palms. “How could I refuse; Matt’s a good kid.”

  Francesca pressed her fingertips to her temples, anything to keep her brain from spinning faster than it already was.

  Winchester nudged Reardan. “Get a load of Mama Canelli.”

  “Yeah, where have I seen that green-around-the-gills before,” Reardan said.

  “Gentlemen, please.” Quinella silenced them with a finger to her lips. “We’ll get back to you later, Mr. Valente. Continue, Matt.”

  “At first Vince grumbled but he soon gave in; I knew he would. On the way to the park I let him think some of the guys might’ve been messing with beer, or worse. I didn’t go into the details. No names, I kept it short and sweet. As we neared the parking area, we noticed an SUV pulling away. Sybil with my mom, we both realized at the same time. I figured if she could drive, she must be okay. I told Vince whatever the emergency, as far as I was concerned it was over.”

  “Really, he showed no concern for your mother?”

  “He’s not one to show his feelings, to his players I mean, but the man’s no dummy. In fact he’s smarter than anyone in this room and not just about soccer. To answer your question, he offered to catch up with my mom, in case I wanted to ride home with her.”

  “I said no way in hell, pardon my language, but I needed to beat her home; otherwise I’d be up to my eyeballs in shit. Again, I apologize. Like I said before, Vince wasn’t too happy about the whole thing but he got me there first and on the way he didn’t bombard me with a bunch of questions.”

  “You beat her home, by how much time?”

  “Don’t know for sure. I got undressed and slipped under the covers. With my door closed I never hear her.”

  “You weren’t worried about her?”

  “I figured if she needed me, she’d knock on the door. That’s the way we do it at our house.”

  Francesca couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. She turned her head away.

  “Sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to let you down.”

  “Let me down? You didn’t; I let you down.” And Ria and Ben and Perri, even Sunny. The list went on and on.

  “Ahem, can we get back to that evening, please. Why such secrecy? This should’ve come out in my earlier discussions, before we checked Oliver’s cell phone and discovered he’d called you that night.”

  “Bills figured I’d been through enough already. Besides, I hadn’t really done anything wrong. It’s not like I was there with him and Logan and Zach.”

  The detectives stood up, usually a good thing although Francesca didn’t count on it.

  “Mr. Valente, do you have anything to add to Matt’s statement,” Winchester asked.

  “Not a thing except to say I’m sorry about the whole thing.”

  “Amen, isn’t everyone,” Reardan said. “We’d like to discuss this further, Mrs. Canelli, not here but in the Interview Room.”

  “What about Matt?” Fred Montgomery asked. “Are you through with him?”

  “I do believe so, at least for the present.” Quinella showed her toothy gap. “Matt, how about a sodie pop, perhaps something more substantial?”

  “No thanks, nothing for me.”

  “You missed your lunch.”

  “It’s not a problem, Ms. Armstrong.”

  “And you, Mr. Valente.”

  “I’ll pass, but can I ask a question.”

  “You want to know if you’re in trouble for withholding possible evidence, right? Sorry, at this juncture in the road, I don’t know.”

  “Vince had nothing to do with this,” Matt said. “I’d swear to that in any court. So, if you don’t mind, we’ll just sit here and wait for my mom to finish up.”

  “That’s a given; for how long I can’t say at this time.” She shook her head. “Detectives Reardan and Winchester make quite a team. When the urge strikes, they can shift into two hound dogs on the trail of one scared rabbit.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Way to go, Winchester thought. Reardan had agreed to park his ass behind the interview window, acknowledging what Winchester had known all along, that Mama Canelli responded better to him. A physical attraction, perhaps, not that he’d encouraged it. Mixing with a prime suspect, former
or current, was a slippery slope he had no intentions of sliding down. During the kid’s disclosure she’d been sucking on her lower lip and now asked for water before entering the interview room. Winchester to the rescue; he came through for her and the lawyer. Bottled but not chilled, he figured no different than she would’ve brought from home if only she’d come as prepared as her previous interview. But this time he’d caught her off guard. He handed over the bottles and the Counselor Montgomery unscrewed both, as if his client didn’t have the strength. Boy, did she have the old codger buffaloed. After drinking half without stopping, Mama Canelli started gnawing on her thumb, a gesture as unbecoming as it was vulnerable.

  Winchester settled back in his chair and propped one ankle over the other knee. “It must’ve been painful for you, Mrs. Canelli, watching your son express his thoughts with such candid eloquence. We may have to open up those wounds again unless you give us some valid reasons to rethink our strategy.”

  “Mrs. Canelli and I haven’t had time to discuss this,” Fred Montgomery said.

  “No problem, take all the time you need.” He set his foot down, started to get up.

  She stopped chewing on the nail, brought her hand to rest in her lap. “That won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly capable of clearing up this misunderstanding right now.” The lawyer started to object but she stopped him. “It’s okay, Fred, really.”

  Winchester sat back, crossed his ankle again. He took out his notebook and pen. “Go ahead.”

  “On the way home that night … the night Rex died, I started feeling guilty about leaving him out there in the cold. Even though he’d behaved like an animal and didn’t deserve one ounce of compassion, I turned around and went back to make sure he’d found his keys. As I pulled into the parking area, I noticed a vehicle up ahead driving away.”

  “This vehicle, were the lights on or off?”

  “I don’t remember, Detective. My eyes were filled with tears. I could barely see to drive. Anyway, I drove down the service road. Rex’s SUV was still parked at the end so I got out. At first I didn’t see him and worried he might jump out and attack me again. Then I noticed the soccer field all lit up. I moved in closer and saw Rex wrapped in netting and attached to the crossbar with a rope. He looked ridiculous standing on that cooler, a pathetic jerk in no position to hurt me so I hurried over, intending to get him loose.

  “‘Bitch!’ he yelled, turning his head from my view. ‘Get your fat ass out of here. I don’t need squat shit from you.’

  “‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I’ll cut the netting away. Is there a knife in your SUV?’

  “‘Get the fuck out,’ he said. ‘The cops should be here any minute and I already have my story figured out.’

  “It must’ve been some tall tale,” Winchester said. “You didn’t ask who did this terrible thing to him and why?”

  “You had to be there, Detective. Of course that makes no sense whatsoever. Otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I must’ve been in a state of delayed shock. Nor did I get that close a look at Rex’s face, the awful beating he took or I wouldn’t have left. At least, I don’t think I would’ve. End of story.”

  “Or another version, one you could’ve told us weeks ago. It would’ve saved hours of investigative time and energy.”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “My number one concern has always been for my son Matt, thinking he might’ve been involved. As it turns out, he wasn’t, thanks to your department’s thorough investigation.”

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s more.”

  “Because you didn’t know Rex Meredith, he was an impatient man, one who insisted on calling all the shots. If I were to take a guess, I’d say he became highly agitated when the police didn’t show up as soon as he expected. Perhaps he struggled and accidentally knocked over the cooler.”

  “That’s the DA’s official version, one I’m not quite ready to accept. You indicated the complex lights were turned on when you went back, which doesn’t explain cops on the night patrol finding a dark soccer field when they arrived.”

  She managed a smile Mona Lisa would’ve envied. “Rex told me to turn out the lights, Detective. I guess to save himself from further embarrassment. It was the least I could do, considering the circumstances.”

  “Turning out the lights makes no sense.”

  “I didn’t question his motives. In retrospect, I should have. But the man was so angry and I still wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “And the clipboard?”

  “The clipboard?” She thought a moment. “Hm-m, I threw it into the Mississippi that very night.”

  Damn, an answer for every question. Maybe Reardan should’ve handled the interview, too late now. Winchester noticed a light flicker behind the window. He stood up, excused himself, and went next door. Reardan had this know-it-all expression on his face which meant he’d figured out the last pieces of a complicated puzzle.

  “Let’s wrap this up,” Reardan said. “Send Mama Canelli home, this time for good.”

  “Just like that, what gives?”

  “That look, I knew I’d seen it before. The woman has herself a cake in the oven, she’s pregnant. And my guess is she hasn’t figured out who’s the daddy.”

  “You’re saying justice has been served.”

  “You have a problem with that?”

  “None that I can think of … but let’s keep Quinella out of this.”

  “What do you take me for? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  In Winchester’s estimation Counselor Montgomery hadn’t earned his money that afternoon, not with a client as slick or deserving as Francesca Canelli. Before they left the lawyer stuck out his hand and Winchester shook it, opening the door for one more go with the client. Winchester extended his hand, forcing her to shake it. Her palms were sweaty, the hand shaking without his pumping it. What else did he expect, given the load she’d been carrying and would continue to do so.

  “That’s all for now, Mrs. Canelli, which is not to say we won’t meet again.”

  “Perhaps, but under different circumstances, one never knows for sure.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Meet with Winchester under different circumstances, like hell, Francesca thought, after ending their conversation with the enthusiasm of a released prisoner shaking hands with her tormentor. She prayed they’d never meet again, no matter the circumstances, no matter how much charisma he managed to exude. She drove Matt home in better spirits than either of them had faked since Ben’s departure, and didn’t go into the details of her latest interview but assured Matt there wouldn’t be another. A traffic jam added to their travel time, just enough for Perri and Ria to have supper ready on their arrival. And what a meal—sausages covered with roasted peppers, spaghetti squash tossed with tomato sauce, chunks of imported cheeses she couldn’t stomach, and a barrage of Ria’s silly jokes she could. Laughter filled the table throughout the meal, more so when Vince dropped by for the coffee and apple pie ala mode. Ben would’ve loved the moment and maybe he did; Francesca sensed his presence, the return of Eternity for Men. She’d have to get used to it again without thinking of Rex.

  The next morning after the kids left for school and Perri with Vince, Francesca went into the laundry room and reeled from the odor of yesterday’s stale coffee. Sunny’s tirade revisited. And before that: Sunny’s car, the foul-smelling front seat Rex once declared unworthy of her. She rinsed the coffee stains from her T-shirt and spread it flat on the dryer. The chances of her ever wearing the damn thing again seemed doubtful. A sudden weariness set in, too early in the day. She climbed the stairs with the labored effort of a patient recovering from surgery, stripped off her clothes, and took her second morning shower, this one geared to washing away the lingering shame. But no amount of soap or water could resolve her latest dilemma, the developing baby she’d never be able to erase from her life.

  It was almost noon when she slipped into the teal pants and matching top Ben had bought
her the previous Christmas. Downstairs, she checked out the fridge for lunch but opted for the elusive nap instead of tempting leftovers. Two hours later she was still dozing in the recliner when Perri returned with a beaming Vince at her side.

  “Well, kid,” he said with that grin capable of melting most women. “You won’t have to put up with your ma much longer. She’s decided to make an honest man out of me.”

  After pushing herself out of the recliner, Francesca initiated a three-way of hugs and kisses. “How wonderful, I’m so happy for both of you. So, when is the big day?”

  “Three weeks from this Saturday,” Perri said, “which means I won’t have to request an extension on my move-out-or-else deadline.”

  “Ah, Perri, come on, what kind of bitch do you take me for.”

  “Don’t be modest, Missy. After all, you are my daughter and I taught you well.”

  Vince grabbed Francesca, gave her another hug. “What more could I ask for than one more daughter, especially with my two living it up in California.”

  “Thanks, Vince. Coming from you I consider that quite a compliment.”

  “Well, I for one could use a nice cup of tea,” Perri said. She started opening cabinet doors, slamming one after the other. “Francesca, you did buy the tea, didn’t you.”

  “It must’ve slipped my mind.” She picked up the keys to Sybil.

  “Not to worry,” Perri said. “There’s a new tea shop not far from here and I’ve been dying to try it out. No, no. you stay put. I’ll just drive myself.”

  “With your foot still in the cast, please.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? The damn thing’s coming off tomorrow,” Perri said with a wink. “Besides, I only need my right foot to drive.” She turned to Vince and planted a kiss, one deep breath shy of using her tongue. “Be a sweetheart and visit with my forgetful daughter ‘til I return.

  He tossed his key ring to Perri. “Knock yourself out, Babe.”

  “Did you hear that, Francesca? He called me Babe?”