A Season for Killing Blondes

by Joanne Guidoccio

  “You asked about Carrie Ann,” I said. “The furniture arrived yesterday afternoon around one. Two men from the Furniture Mart unloaded the boxes and left them in the back offices.”

  “Which entrance did they use?”

  “The front entrance. They weren’t here too long.”

  He gave an impatient wave of his hands.

  “By eleven-thirty we were ready for lunch. My mother, Sofia, and I were in the front office and making our way back to the kitchen when we heard my aunt scream. Uncle Paolo came inside and told us about the dead body. Sofia offered to call 911, but Uncle Paolo placed the call.”

  “When did you move into this office?” he asked.

  Was this a trick question? I hadn’t watched too many police shows lately, but I knew they often tried to catch suspects in lies. My pulse raced a little faster as I answered Carlo’s question. “Uh…Last month…right after Labor Day.” It must have been Tuesday, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure.

  “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary in the back alley?”

  “Just a lot of cars—”

  “That are illegally parked.” He shook his head. “We get three or four calls each week from some of the other business owners. Today’s an unlucky day for anyone who decided to park back there.”

  When they were pressed for time, Sofia and Uncle Paolo liked to park right next to the Dumpster. I decided not to volunteer that information.

  Carlo finished writing and closed the black notebook. He sighed deeply.

  I wondered about Carrie Ann’s injuries and cause of death, but I knew I couldn’t ask him. Especially not today with Carlo in detective persona and the other officer observing me.

  Carlo yawned. “It’s getting late. Why don’t you go home? Drop by tomorrow afternoon and sign the report. It should be ready by then.” He got up and put on his jacket.

  A knock at the door startled me. Carlo opened the door to one of the officers. “Sorry to interrupt, Carlo. We’re tying up a few loose ends, and we’d like to leave soon.”

  Carlo nodded in my direction and followed the officer out the door.

  Chapter 4

  Friday, October 21, 2011

  The perfect day to stay home and play hooky. Not a cloud in the sky and sixty-two balmy degrees. Practically Florida weather. When I moved back to Sudbury, I expected an early frost in September and snow in October. At least that’s how I remember the autumns of my childhood.

  I sat on my balcony and watched as couples and groups of women walked along Lake Nepahwin. Two young men were canoeing, and I could see a sailboat in the distance. I loved living on this lake, and it was one of the main reasons I had come back to Sudbury. With over three hundred lakes in the Greater Sudbury area, I was never more than a short drive away from any one of them. I had my choice of lakefront properties, and in the end, had selected this three-bedroom condo in one of the newer buildings.

  I still hadn’t made any plans for the day. The other officer—I still didn’t know his name—had advised me to stay away from the office to give the police more time to complete their investigation. He warned me that reporters and overly curious friends would drop by if they knew the office remained open for business.

  After that grueling session with Carlo, I grabbed a quick supper, took the telephone off the hook, and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillows. I didn’t wake up until eight this morning. In two hours’ time, I had managed to shower, get dressed, and eat breakfast. I didn’t know how I would get through the rest of today, let alone two or three more days.

  I went back inside the condo and replaced the telephone receiver. Within several minutes, it rang. I checked call display and saw Jean Taylor’s name and number. Calm, thoughtful Jean, my yoga instructor.

  As soon as I picked up the phone, Jean started speaking. “I tried to call you last night, but your line was busy.” Anger and alarm rang in her voice. “Carlo Fantin called yesterday afternoon. That call threw me off for the rest of the day. My students suffered because of it. And my husband wasn’t too happy. You could have warned us.”

  Was this the same Jean Taylor who lit candles and radiated kindness and goodness to everyone? One phone call and she falls apart? What kind of yogini is that? Tempted to make a sarcastic comment, I took several yoga breaths before responding. “I’m sorry to hear that you’re so upset. When Carlo questioned me yesterday, I had to tell him where I had been when Carrie Ann was…um…died. He probably called to confirm that I was at the studio between eight and nine that night. I don’t understand how that could upset you or your husband.”

  She hung up. I had been planning to go in for more yoga sessions this week, but I thought I’d give Jean some time to reconnect with her spiritual self.

  The loud and persistent knocking at the door startled me. Someone had managed to get past the controlled entry of the building. After checking the peephole, I opened the door to an angry and frustrated Sofia. “I’ve been calling you all morning. I can understand you not wanting to talk to anyone last night, but are you planning to leave the telephone off the hook all day?”

  “Sorry! I’ve been in a daze since I got up. I put the phone back a while ago and just had the most unpleasant conversation with Jean Taylor.” I gave Sofia a recap.

  Sofia raised her eyebrows. “What happened to all that peace and calm she preaches about?”

  “I still can’t figure out why her husband is upset.”

  “Taylor…Taylor…Do you know his first name?”

  “I’m not sure, but her son’s name is Michael. She calls him Junior sometimes so, maybe—”

  “Michael Taylor…Michael Taylor…Omigod! He’s Carrie Ann’s ex.” Sofia smiled knowingly. “I bet Carlo asked a few questions about his whereabouts that night. And maybe Mr. Taylor didn’t have an alibi.”

  “Why would he even need one? Carrie Ann told me they parted amicably and still talked to each other.”

  “That’s her version of the story,” Sofia said. “I heard he had a nervous breakdown and took a long time to get his act together. He married someone much younger, sounds like your Jean.” Sofia frowned. “Is she the one who gave you that ugly plant?

  Trust Sofia to focus on the aesthetics. If I hadn’t intervened yesterday, she would have thrown out the river rock lucky bamboo plant that Jean had ordered for the occasion. For weeks, Jean had gushed about the three symbols inherent in each plant—wealth, happiness, and longevity. I explained, “She went to a lot of trouble to get the plant and even made a special trip out to the office before…oh no…Jean was there the other night.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I got to yoga class just before it started. Jean told me that she had dropped by the office before coming to the studio. She wanted to bless my office before the open house. She’s into that kind of thing and—” My mind went into overdrive. “I left the office before seven, and she probably arrived at the studio about twenty minutes before class started at eight. So, she could have been at the plaza sometime between seven and seven-thirty. Maybe that’s why she’s so upset about Carlo calling her.”

  Sofia rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Carlo called her to confirm your story. He wouldn’t be asking about her whereabouts that night. And I don’t think she would have volunteered that information.”

  My eyes traveled to the telephone. “I should let Carlo know.”

  “You didn’t see her at the office. It’s her story to tell, not yours.” Sofia fluffed the sofa pillows, adjusted one of the prints on the wall, and turned the television set to Channel 59. Sofia and all my relatives liked this particular feature of condo life which provides an excellent view of the entrance to the building and allows me to screen all my visitors.

  “I’m glad to see more color in your cheeks today. You looked so washed out yesterday.” Sofia did not hesitate to change the subject if the conversation got too intense or uncomfortable.

  “I thought I held up well.”

  “Do
n’t worry. Our mothers didn’t notice. They were too caught up in all the drama and excitement.” She shook her head. “You should have seen your mother’s house last night. She had a steady flow of visitors, and the last group didn’t leave until after midnight.”

  “I hope it wasn’t too much for her.”

  “My mother and I helped out with coffee and desserts. We made a serious dent in those boxes of Italian pastries.”

  I had forgotten all about the pastries. And I no longer cared what happened to them.

  “Not to worry. Your mother wasn’t alone last night,” Sophia said. “She needs a lot of people around in a crisis situation.”

  “Maybe I should call her now. I wonder what—”

  “I dropped our mothers off at the New Sudbury Shopping Centre. They’re planning to spend the day shopping and eat in the food court. I’ll pick them up later in the afternoon.”

  “I can’t believe how well you handle these crises.” After my father’s death four years ago, Sofia added my mother’s concerns to her ever-growing list of responsibilities. When I returned to Sudbury, I had hoped to take some of that pressure off Sofia. But it hadn’t worked out that way. If anything, Sofia was even more pressed for time as she juggled her own household, decorating my office and condo, and her aging parents.

  “I don’t mind doing it. In the end, it’s easier if I just take over and handle all the details.” She gave me an appraising once-over, taking in my yoga pants and T-shirt. “I take it you aren’t going into the office today.”

  “That officer who sat in on the interview thinks I should wait until everything settles down.”

  “You mean Detective Luke Matthews?” Sofia raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t Carlo introduce him to you?”

  “I didn’t catch the name.”

  “How was your session with Carlo?”

  I decided not to share too much with Sofia. I still can’t believe how frazzled and incoherent I was throughout most of the inquisition. “He wanted to know all the details from both days. And I gave them to him.”

  “Did he ask you out?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “He can’t do that during an investigation where I…I…guess I’m a person of interest.” I thought back and realized that Carlo had behaved professionally in every way. Maybe too professionally. The only time he had shown some emotion was when I mentioned the Italian corner.

  Sofia smiled confidently. “He’ll call once all of this blows over. He has your number.”

  “He’ll be giving you a call sometime today.”

  “Why would he need to do that? Is there some problem?” Sofia’s pupils dilated in surprise. Or was it irritation?

  “Relax. He just wants to know what time you called me the other day.” There was a definite edge to her voice, one that I didn’t hear too often.

  Her eyes thinned suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

  I explained. “You know how you like to call or drop by around six each day just to make sure I go home at a decent hour.”

  “It must have been around ten to six or so.” She started fussing with the centerpiece on the table, trying to decide where it should be.

  “No, you didn’t call that early. I went to the bank right after Carrie Ann left, and I didn’t get back to the office until after six.”

  Sofia shrugged. “I guess I don’t remember then. Is it important?”

  “It could be. They’re trying to pinpoint the time of death.”

  “You mean she could have been killed while you were talking on the phone with me or checking your emails?” She shivered. “I wouldn’t share that with your mother or anyone else.”

  “I’m so glad I have you to bounce things off. I don’t know what I would do if I were alone.” I leaned over and hugged her. The mood had passed, and she was warm, helpful Sofia again.

  The telephone rang and startled us. Sofia glanced over at the television screen and groaned as she watched two blonde women standing in the lobby. “Great! Just who we need to see today.”

  I moved closer to the screen, but still couldn’t recognize the two heavy-set women wearing black pantsuits. “Who are they?”

  “Anna May and Jenny Marie Godfrey.”

  While I hate using clichés, I couldn’t help thinking “How the mighty have fallen” as I observed the two middle-aged women on the screen. The years had not been kind to the former “it” girls who dominated every social event during their high school careers. Unlike Carrie Ann, Anna May and Jenny Marie had not maintained their spectacular looks and figures, but they were still using those double names. “An affectation,” one of the grade nine teachers had commented when Carrie Ann corrected the teacher several times during the first week of classes. The usually pleasant and co-operative Carrie Ann persisted and the teacher stopped calling her Caroline.

  I picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver, “Come on up. I’m on the fifth floor—507.” I buzzed them up.

  “You could have ignored the call,” Sofia said. “That’s what I would have done.”

  “I have nothing to hide. And I am curious. What happened to them?”

  “They got old and fat,” Sofia said. “And I don’t think they’ll be too thrilled to see you either.”

  “Do they think I had something to do with Carrie Ann’s death?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Sofia replied. “But I know three things for sure. You’re thinner, richer, and better looking than both of them.”

  Before I could respond, I heard the knocks at the door. I opened the door and welcomed the two women. “Come on in. I’m so sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. My condolences to both of you.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the sisters. Anna May wore a tight, black pantsuit which did little to diminish her girth. Her straight, blonde hair was styled in the same pageboy as Carrie Ann’s, but the color and texture appeared less natural. Her complexion was still smooth, and her makeup was artfully applied. Jenny Marie was shorter and not as heavy. She sported the same hairstyle as her sisters, but her skin was splotchy and showed signs of sun damage. She also wore a black pantsuit, but hers was not as form fitting.

  Their eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

  Anna May spoke, “It’s been a long time, Gilda.”

  “It’s unfortunate we had to meet under these circumstances.” I already said that. Why was I repeating myself? And why was I on edge? I motioned toward the living room.

  “Yes, very unfortunate. That’s one of the reasons we’re here.” Anna May sat on the sofa. Jenny Marie, Sofia and I joined her.

  “You have a lovely condo,” Jenny Marie said softly as her eyes traveled around the room. “This is the first time I’ve been in this building and, I must say, I’m impressed. Did you decorate it yourself or hire someone?

  “Thanks, but I can’t take any of the credit. I just told Sofia what I liked, and she did the rest.”

  Anna May dropped her purse on the floor. “I’m going to cut to the chase here. We’ve spent most of this morning between the police station and the funeral home, and we have a million other details to attend to. We don’t need to spend any more time making small talk and discussing decorating schemes.”

  Jenny Marie gasped. “We aren’t in that much of a rush.”

  Anna May’s face darkened as she continued to glare at me. “We hear that Carrie Ann visited you and shared some of her career concerns. I don’t know how desperate you are for business, but I find it appalling that you would claim her to be your first client. If she wanted a career change, she would discuss it with us, not a total stranger. Tell the truth unless you have something to hide.”

  “I’ve told Carlo everything that happened, and I have no intention of taking any of it back. I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation.” I forced myself to smile while rage surged through my blood. How dare this woman accuse me of lying?

  Anna May stood. “My sister visits you, leaves, and is murdered in the back alley. Something fishy
is going on here, Gilda Greco, and you’re at the center of it.”

  Before I could speak, Sofia stood. Her eyes blazed with anger. “How dare you accuse Gilda? She didn’t harm Carrie Ann in any way. As for being desperate for clients, she doesn’t need the business.”

  “I had forgotten about the lottery win,” Anna May smirked. “How kind of you to remind me, Sofia.” She moved closer to me. “Why couldn’t you just travel and live it up like all the other lottery winners?”

  “Anna May!” Jenny Marie raised her voice. “You’re out of line.”

  “I’m out of line?” Anna May threw up her hands. “If this new millionaire hadn’t decided to play Lady Bountiful and open up that career shop, Carrie Ann would still be alive today.” She sank into the sofa, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. Jenny Marie leaned over to comfort her and mouthed “I’m sorry” to me.

  My hands shook as I watched Anna May unravel before us. While I didn’t want to add fuel to the fire, I knew I had to say something. I waited for her to stop crying and then said, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Anna May. I’m just as horrified as you by Carrie Ann’s death. But I didn’t have anything to do with her murder. You must understand that.”

  Anna May sat up straighter. “I don’t need lessons in understanding from you, Gilda Greco. So spare me.” She breathed heavily. “I’ll be watching your every step—”

  “You have no right to come in here and threaten Gilda!” Sofia shouted.

  “The loyal and devoted cousin.” Anna May stood up again and moved closer to Sofia. “How well you play that role, Sofia.”

  “That’s enough, Anna May. I will not be insulted in my home, and I won’t allow you to insult Sofia either. Please leave.” I rose and moved toward the door.

  The telephone rang, and my eyes traveled to the screen. The other women followed my gaze. Maria and Rosa had arrived.

  I picked up the phone. “Come on up.” I entered my code and then hung up.

  Jenny Marie continued to watch the screen as an elderly couple followed Maria and Rosa into the building. She sighed. “I wish my daughter had this setup in her apartment building.”