A Season for Killing Blondes

by Joanne Guidoccio

  “You must have seen someone.” I could hear an intake of breath on the other end and I tensed, expecting Carlo to lash out at me. “Did you stop for gas? Where did you eat?”

  “This is starting to sound like an inquisition, and I’m not too crazy about your line of questioning, Detective.” My heart beat faster as I gripped the phone. “I filled up with gas last night, and I brought a cooler with food.”

  “Coffee?” he barked.

  “I love my espresso, and I don’t go anywhere without my own coffee maker.”

  “Great. Just great,” Carlo groaned.

  “You’re beginning to make me nervous.”

  “Good! It’s about time you realized how serious this situation really is.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Melly Grace is dead.”

  The information hit me like a blow to the stomach. “Oh, my God! What happened?”

  “You know I can’t give you any details.”

  I persisted. “She was alive last night when I left the restaurant. I don’t know—”

  Carlo interrupted, “I’ve heard many versions of what happened last night.” Another pause and then he asked, “And what time were you up and about this morning, Gilda?”

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the Godfrey women verbally attacked me.” I paused to take several breaths and then continued, “I don’t remember what time I got out of bed, but I left around five-thirty, and I arrived at the cottage two hours later.”

  He persisted. “Did you call up your mother or see Sofia? You must have phoned Karen and picked up the key before you left.”

  “No, I got the key when I visited her office the day Carrie Ann died. There were several older couples walking on the boardwalk, but I didn’t have conversations with any of them. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to—”

  “I’m going to terminate this conversation right now. For your own protection, I suggest you find yourself a lawyer and come downtown as soon as possible.” He hung up.

  I sank into the leather couch and held my head in both hands. The telephone rang. This time I checked call display. I breathed a sigh of relief as I picked up the phone.

  “Where have you been?” Sofia asked in an exasperated tone.

  “I guess no one says hello anymore.”

  “So you know. Who told you?”

  “I just finished speaking with Carlo.”

  “How was it?”

  “Terrible. He advised me to get a lawyer.”

  She swore under her breath. “I wish I had talked to you first. Then you would have been prepared.”

  “I told him the truth. I have nothing to hide.”

  “Then why would he say you need a lawyer? And you still haven’t told me where you’ve been.”

  “I’ll answer your second question first. I couldn’t sleep. I got out of bed and decided to get out of town. I drove out to Manitoulin Island and spent the day alone at Karen Anderson’s cottage. I’ve been gone the whole day, and there’s no one who can vouch for me. And that’s why Carlo thinks I need a lawyer.”

  “This is beyond damage control,” Sofia muttered.

  “This is murder. And I think someone is trying to set me up.”

  Sofia spoke briskly. “First things first. Tomorrow morning call Henry Keenan. He’s the best criminal lawyer in town and, thank God, you can afford it.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful how handy a lottery win can be.” I bit down on my lower lip.

  “You sound strange.” Sofia lowered her voice. “Go ahead and cry. Let it all out. You’ll feel better.”

  I stopped biting my lip and sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes. I sniffed and blew my nose. “Thanks.”

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  “No, I have a splitting headache, and I plan to go to bed very soon. I’ll check my messages tomorrow, but I think I’ll call my mother now. I wonder if she knows.”

  “Everyone knows. They reported Melly Grace’s murder this afternoon, and word has spread like wildfire.”

  “Who told her? And what did they tell her?”

  “My parents gave her an edited version, and Maria and Rosa gave her all the details about last night at Olympia. Rosa’s son and girlfriend were sitting a few tables away from us, and they heard and saw everything. She has been listening to the radio, and I’m sure she’s called you a number of times.”

  Would it ever end, I wondered. “I’ll call her right now.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sofia said. “My parents and I took supper over there, and before we left, she took a sedative and went to bed. Tomorrow morning, we’ll all come over and have a family powwow at your place.”

  “I’m willing to bet you’ve even baked something for the occasion.”

  “Well, you know how I like to bake in crisis situations. This afternoon I baked double batches of blueberry and banana muffins. What we don’t eat, you can freeze.” Sofia cleared her throat. “We’ll be there around ten. Good night and sleep tight.”

  I felt a bit ashamed about my earlier thoughts. I was fortunate to have family and relatives who would drop everything to help me through this nightmare. And what a nightmare it was turning out to be.

  Chapter 8

  Wednesday, October 26, 2011

  I watched on the flat screen as Sofia led the solemn, slow-moving group past the entrance into the foyer. My mother and aunt were wearing head-to-toe black and clinging to each other. Uncle Paolo followed behind, head down. I waited for the knock at the door and then opened the door to let them in. My mother burst into tears, and both Uncle Paolo and Aunt Amelia had to help her sit down.

  “Please, Ma, don’t cry. It’s going to be all right.” I forced a smile and bent over and kissed her.

  “Things will only get worse.” Head down, she continued to cry into her handkerchief.

  “I agree,” Aunt Amelia said. “There have been two murders, and I’m certain there will be a third. Everything comes in threes.”

  “Why not four murders? There are two more sisters, and they’re both blondes. This is a season for killing blondes,” Sofia joked as she arranged the muffins and fruit on the table.

  “Sofia! That’s terrible. Don’t even joke about it.” I was taken aback by her comment.

  “Sofia, what’s gotten into you?” Uncle Paolo gasped in disbelief. “What if someone else had heard you?”

  Sofia rolled her eyes. “Just kidding! It’s pretty bad when you have to muzzle your comments in front of family.”

  Yes, isn’t it, I thought. Although I did not approve of her comments, I envied her ability to speak so bluntly. It made life a lot easier and less stressful.

  Sofia stood back and surveyed the table. She had artfully arranged the food and flowers to create an autumn burst of loveliness. Aunt Amelia and Uncle Paolo smiled and nodded in approval as they sampled the banana and blueberry muffins. My mother poured coffee into the small, espresso cups and carried the tray into the living area. The angry moment had passed, and now everyone focused on the food.

  “Sofia, these muffins are delicious.” Uncle Paolo had both types of muffins on his plate and alternated between them. “Much as I hate to agree with your mother’s Aunt Renata, I have to admit she was right. The blueberry muffins are the best.”

  Aunt Amelia laughed. “I never thought I would hear you say anything nice about her.”

  We all joined in the laughter as each of us recalled the year that Aunt Renata decided to spend the winter in Canada. She did nothing but complain about the weather and the lack of stimulating activities. Recently widowed, she had decided to travel and visit her many nieces and nephews in Canada and the United States. She had not bargained for a harsh, cold winter and bouts of influenza. I visited Sudbury once during that time, so I hadn’t experienced the full impact of that woman’s selfishness and self-absorption. “I still don’t understand why you all catered to her. You treated her like a guest for four whole months. I wouldn’t have
had the patience for it.”

  “We felt sorry for her,” Sofia said. “Her children had all moved to northern Italy, and she lived all by herself in that large, rambling house in Calabria.”

  “She drove everyone away,” my mother explained. “And she had such a sad ending in Italy. I heard that very few people attended the funeral. Maybe we should have gone, Amelia.”

  “It wasn’t a good time for either one of you, Aunt Assunta. You had just lost a husband, and Ma had that cancer scare.” Sofia put down her coffee cup. “Enough about Aunt Renata. We have more important matters to discuss.”

  Sofia nodded in my direction. “Did you call Henry Keenan?”

  “I’m meeting with him early this afternoon.”

  Sofia continued, “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I really wasn’t fine, but I didn’t want to alarm everyone. Somehow, I would muddle through this mess.

  Uncle Paolo cleared his throat. “Gilda, you need to start thinking very carefully about every move you make.” He waved his hands. “We feel you should move in with Sofia or your mother.”

  “Are you putting me under house arrest?” Did they think that I could be involved?

  “You’re alone and you never have any…what is that word…” My mother started to cry again.

  “Alibi, zia.” Sofia shook her head. “She’s right. You don’t have an alibi for the two murders, and you’ve had dealings with both of the women.”

  I spoke in a choked whisper. “I’m not a murderer.”

  My mother continued to cry as Aunt Amelia comforted her. Sofia started arranging muffins and fruit on a smaller tray. She picked up the tray and pointed toward the balcony. I followed her outside. She waited until I closed the sliding door before speaking. “We know you’re not a murderer. But the rest of the world is not convinced. Even Carlo has his doubts.”

  “What do you mean?” Where on earth was she getting all this information? “Ah, don’t tell me, more news from Curves. I guess you went there this morning.”

  “I missed yesterday, but I went in today. The women couldn’t stop talking about the murders and Carlo Fantin.” She paused and took a sip of coffee. “I don’t know how much you are prepared to hear.”

  “Give it to me straight. I need to know what’s going on.”

  We sat and started eating the fruit.

  “Carlo lost his cool yesterday when he found out about Melly Grace’s death,” Sofia said.

  “There aren’t too many grisly murders in Sudbury. Two in the same week involving friends of his—”

  Sofia interrupted, “He has a reputation for being calm and always in control.”

  “I guess losing Melly Grace upset him.” At the funeral home, they had sat very close together, and his face had softened whenever their glances met. “Maybe he still carries a torch for her.”

  “One of the officer’s wives dismissed that theory,” Sofia said. “She suggested he was upset because you were in the picture.” She took a deep breath and continued. “After the news bulletin went out, Carlo received a number of calls from people who claimed they were at Olympia on Monday night. They gave very interesting accounts about what happened that night. I don’t know if you—”

  “Spill it, Sofia.”

  Her eyes traveled toward the lake as she paused to find the right words. “Eight different women called and told Carlo that you looked angry enough to kill that night. One of them even said that you threatened Melly Grace.”

  “These people are lying!” My breath caught, and I struggled to slow down my heartbeat. “Sofia, you were there.”

  Sofia gave me a sad smile. “You stared a bit too long at that steak knife, and you clenched your hands. That’s what people remember.”

  I thought back to that night and remembered the murderous thoughts that had gone through my mind. Was I that transparent? A detail came to mind. “How could all those women claim that they saw me looking at the knife? The Godfrey women were standing very close to our table and blocking everyone’s view.”

  “Those eight witnesses are all somehow connected with Anna May,” Sofia said. “One of the wives mentioned that Anna May could have talked the women into calling Carlo.”

  “What is Anna May’s problem?” I hadn’t seen the woman in years, and suddenly she’s accusing me of two murders.

  “Don’t you remember how she was in school?” Sofia asked. “She couldn’t handle it when anyone else attracted more attention.”

  The teenage Anna May was a far cry from the overweight, middle-aged woman who was unraveling before us. If Anna May got that upset whenever she encountered a more attractive woman, she must be in a constant state of agitation. Something else was behind this harassment. “I wonder if Anna May is somehow involved in both murders?” I was surprised to hear myself thinking out loud.

  Sofia’s eyes widened. “Why would you even think such a thing?”

  “Just a gut feeling, I guess.” It was a far-fetched theory, but one that was starting to make sense. Why else would she be so quick to pin the murder on me? We had no history, none at all.

  Sofia shook her head. “Three Sisters Decorating revolved around Carrie Ann’s creative talent. Without her, Jenny Marie and Anna May don’t have a meal ticket.”

  “Carrie Ann wanted to leave. Maybe Anna May caught wind of that and lost it.” I thought back to my own unpleasant encounters with Anna May. It wouldn’t take much to unhinge her.

  Sofia frowned. “I can’t even imagine Anna May wanting to kill her sister, and what would she be doing lurking in that alley behind your office? It doesn’t make any sense.” She shuddered. “I hate to say this, but I agree with our mothers. I think there may be another murder.”

  I changed the subject. “Back to Curves. Spill the rest of it.”

  Sofia frowned but quickly regained her composure. “Oh, yes. They were also talking about how similar the two murders were. Both women either hit their heads or were hit by blunt objects, and there was extensive neck bruising. They were neatly arranged in the Dumpsters. They weren’t just thrown in haphazardly.”

  “Neck bruising?” All I could recall was that pale, lifeless face. “I didn’t see any of that on Carrie Ann’s body.”

  “Well, for starters, we weren’t looking for it. And remember she had that scarf covering most of her neck. It would have been very easy to hide any signs of strangulation. Melly Grace was another story. The police officers had to turn away.”

  “They were killed by a woman,” I said. “Or a woman assisted in the murder.”

  Sofia gasped. “That’s not the impression you want people to have.”

  “But don’t you see how much sense it makes? The signs of strangulation were covered, and they were neatly arranged in the Dumpster. No man would go to all that trouble.”

  “A gay man might or one suffering from OCD,” Sofia said.

  I nodded in agreement. “The woman would also have to be a bit obsessive and concerned with appearances.”

  “That covers about ninety-five percent of the women we know,” Sofia joked.

  I laughed and threw up my hands. “That’s it. I have had enough. My Nancy Drew moments are over.” I glanced over her shoulder and noticed that my mother had stopped crying. “Do you think it’s safe to go back in?”

  Sofia pointed toward the living room. “Yesterday, I spent most of the day calming them down. They aren’t going to let up until this is all settled, and that may take a while.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “I think it would be a good idea if I moved in with you.” Sofia held up her hand to stop me from interrupting. “I know you like your space and need more privacy than the rest of us, and I am prepared to accommodate that. Peter and Paul are away at school, and Andrew is still in Italy.”

  “When is Andrew coming back?” It had been a while since I had seen him. Was his uncle’s estate taking this long to settle?

  Sofia sighed. “There are complications. Yo
u know what it’s like in Italy with all that bureaucracy. It takes forever to get anything done.” She changed the subject. “Back to me moving in. I won’t be spending too much time here. I’m up to my eyeballs with the Autumn Tea, so this would only be a pit stop for me.”

  “I got the impression they wanted me to have a constant companion.” What was the point of Sofia moving in if she was going to be out all the time? Especially the week before the tea. Knowing Sofia, she would be running around town collecting door prizes and attending to every last detail. From what my mother had told me, I’ve gathered that Sofia threw herself into all these church activities and micromanaged everyone.

  “We would do a few things together,” Sofia said. “But we don’t have to be attached at the hip and share any of this with our parents. It will make them feel happy and secure to know that I’m staying here.”

  “You’re really good at dealing with them.” I couldn’t get over how well she handled these crises. And when there was a tense moment, she smoothed things over.

  “I’ve had lots of practice. Years and years of it. Now, let’s go back in and break the good news to them.”

  Chapter 9

  Henry Keenan had a constipated and ineffectual look about him. It was hard to believe he was the best criminal attorney in Sudbury and a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. With his untidy mop of white hair, wire-rimmed glasses and rumpled clothes, he could pass for an aging university professor. I wondered if he owned a dark, pinstripe suit. If he didn’t, I would buy one for him. Whoa, I thought. One step at a time. I haven’t been formally accused, and I’m already planning the courtroom scene. I closed my eyes and willed myself back into the present moment.

  Henry spoke in a low monotone, and I had to strain to hear him. “I’ll be checking in with the police. I want to get a full transcript of your initial statement. Try to avoid talking about the murders with the press, friends, and relatives. I’m familiar with the case, but I will need some time to get a firm grasp on your involvement.” He paused and then continued. “Questions?”

  “Will you hire someone to investigate other suspects?”