A Season for Killing Blondes

by Joanne Guidoccio

  Henry peered at me and frowned. “What other suspects?”

  “Anna May Godfrey.”

  “You have proof Anna May Godfrey killed her sister and cousin?” His eyes darkened with annoyance as he raised his voice. “Please share this information with me.”

  “Well, not exactly. I’ve heard a few things about her and her business dealings, and I’ve had a couple of unpleasant encounters with her—”

  “Let me get this straight.” Henry stood up to his full height of over six feet. His eyes fixed on mine. “You want me to conduct a full-fledged investigation of Anna May Godfrey based on hearsay information and your own feelings toward her.”

  He didn’t need a dark pinstripe suit to intimidate anyone. He had a presence and demeanor that could quell all opposition within a radius of one hundred feet. My knees shook as I got up. “Well, I guess when you put it that way—”

  “And what other way is there?” His lips curled into a snarl. “Murder is serious business, and in case you haven’t noticed, this is a law office, not a principal’s office. I don’t deal with idle gossip and cat fights. You may wish to reconsider. No, I’m reconsidering. In all honesty, I don’t think we’re a good match.”

  “Thank you for your time, Henry.” I didn’t bother shaking his hand. I left and headed for my car in the parking lot behind the building. I sat for several minutes and considered my options for the rest of the day. I could take out the Yellow Pages and try to find another lawyer or call Sofia for advice, or I could conduct my own investigation. That last option excited me.

  I needed to take charge and get actively involved. Throughout my teaching years, I had been told my research and organizational skills were exceptional. It was time to put them to work outside the classroom. I leaned over and grabbed the telephone book from the back seat. I flipped to the Investigators section and skimmed through the list. Four of the six listings had 800 numbers. I focused on the remaining two with local numbers. Nickel City Security caught my eye. When I checked the address, I recognized the street. One block behind the ReCareering office. I left the downtown area and headed toward the south end of the city. I decided to drive a bit farther and park in the plaza rather than using the back alley which separated my office from Nickel City Security. Under normal circumstances, it would have made more sense to use the alleyway, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I didn’t want to run into any of the other tenants or anyone else poking around back there. It would be a while before I could walk confidently in that back alley.

  I took my time walking to the office, located at the far end of the plaza. I opened the door to a very untidy and crowded outer office. Boxes were piled on the floor, and groups of files lay on chairs, desks, and cabinets. I wrinkled my nose as I caught whiffs of stale cigarette smoke, French fries, and aftershave. The door to the inner office was closed, but I could hear someone talking in the other room. I knocked tentatively on the door, and a male voice bellowed, “I’m on the phone. Give me a few minutes.”

  One chair had several files on it, so I gathered the files and sat down. As I went to place them on the desk, I noticed the name on the topmost file: Anna May Godfrey. My heart pounded, and my hand trembled. It would be so easy to stuff the file under my jacket and leave. No one had seen me come, and it could be days before the investigator realized the file was missing. I debated the issue for a few more seconds, and as I rose to leave, the door opened, and a short, balding middle-aged man emerged.

  He managed a tight smile and offered his hand. “Hi. Jim Nelson.” He waved his hand. “Sorry about the mess. My receptionist quit last week, and I’ve been manning the office solo since then.” He noticed the files I was holding. “Here, let me take them. Sorry, I had to use all the chairs. I have my own system. I know. Bizarre and unorganized, but it works for me.” He frowned as he glanced at the folders and then placed them on the desk. “What can I do for you, pretty lady? Need to have a special man followed?

  “No, nothing like that. My name is Gilda Greco, and I would like to hire you to conduct a full background and criminal check.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It’s a woman,” I blurted out.

  “That’s fine. You can swing anyway you want. I don’t pass judgment.”

  I tried again. “I want you to investigate Anna May Godfrey. I want to know everything about her personal habits, financial affairs, and any criminal involvement. I think she may be involved in a murder case, and I need to clear up a few questions.”

  “You think she murdered someone?”

  “Yes. And I know you can get that information for me very quickly.”

  “You saw the file.”

  “I didn’t open it.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I am assuming that Carrie Ann hired you and was coming over here the other day to pick up this file. I have a strange feeling she didn’t make it here.”

  He shrugged but said nothing.

  “That file incriminates Anna May, and you’re afraid to hand it over to the police.”

  “I’m not afraid of Anna May or anyone else for that matter,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I like living on the edge. As for incriminating Anna May, that is subject to interpretation.”

  “What did you say when the police called the other day?”

  “No one came.”

  “That’s odd.” How could they have missed this office?

  Jim smiled and shook his head. “This office is well hidden, and people tend to forget it exists. That suits me and my clients just fine. We don’t need the exposure.” He raised his eyebrows. “And who would expect a classy interior designer to visit a seedy, rundown investigator’s office?”

  Despite appearances, he was sharp and on the ball. He was not about to volunteer information, but he would co-operate with the police.

  “Thank you for your time, Jim.” I didn’t give him any time to respond. I got into my car and took out my phone. I called the police department and asked for Carlo Fantin’s office.

  He answered after one ring. “Fantin here.”

  “Hello, Carlo. It’s Gilda. I’ve been doing my own investigating—”

  “What! I told you to get a lawyer.”

  “I tried to get a lawyer. I visited Henry Keenan, and I wasn’t impressed. Neither was he.”

  Carlo laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me considering his connection with the Godfreys.”

  “What connection?”

  “You mean you didn’t know that Henry was Anna May’s godfather?”

  I couldn’t help giggling. “Now I know why he was so incensed when I suggested that Anna May might be a suspect in this case.”

  “You did what?”

  “I’m glad it didn’t work out. If it had, I would never have found the file on Anna May.”

  “What file? What have you been up to?

  “I’ll start from the beginning, and I would appreciate it if you would save your comments for the end.”

  “Yes, Miss Greco.”

  I gave him a quick summary of what had happened at Nickel City Security.

  “Did Jim see Carrie Ann before she died?”

  “No, she was on her way to see him after she spoke to me. She never made it.”

  “What else did Mr. Nelson say?”

  “Not much. I gathered he wasn’t going to share the file with me. But he might if he an officer shows up with a search warrant.” I couldn’t resist adding, “It’s too bad your officer didn’t visit him last week.”

  “We’ll move on that today.” Carlo switched to detective mode. “I have a bone to pick with you. Why didn’t you tell me that Jean Taylor dropped by your office the night Carrie Ann died?

  I was caught off guard. “I didn’t remember till later and, after all that’s gone on, I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I’m not sure when she was there.”

  “Between seven and seven-thirty,” Carlo said. “When I called Karen Anderson last night, she mentioned seeing Jean
as she left the bank on the day Carrie Ann died. Jean stood there with a plant. Karen offered to put the plant in her office, but Jean insisted on giving it to you personally.”

  I chose my words carefully. “She gave it to me after yoga class.”

  “Hmm. I wonder why she didn’t mention her visit when I called last week. I’ve left several messages on her machine, but she hasn’t called back.” He changed the subject. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to you. I appreciate this tip, but leave the investigating to us. It’s too dangerous for you to get any more involved.”

  “I’ll try to stay out of it, but it’s frustrating to sit back and let someone set me up time and time again.”

  “If it’s any consolation to you, no one here thinks you had anything to do with either murder. And to make sure that no more questions would be asked, I found two people who could vouch for you when you took off and went to the island.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “I got the address for Karen’s cottage when I spoke with her last night,” he explained. “This morning, I left at five-thirty and drove out there. I walked along the boardwalk for a while and met up with an older couple who identified your picture.”

  “What picture?”

  “The one on your business card.” He added, “They saw you between eight and nine o’clock on Tuesday morning. There’s no way you could have been anywhere near the restaurant when Melly Grace was killed. That’s enough to put an end to any suspicions about your involvement.”

  My eyes welled with tears as I heard the relief in his voice. I couldn’t believe he went to all that trouble for me. “I don’t what to say, Carlo. Thanks—”

  “You’re welcome. And please leave the investigation to me.”

  “I just want to share one theory with you.”

  “Gilda!” Carlo expelled a loud sigh.

  “Hear me out. Either two women are involved or a man and a woman.”

  “Hmm. Interesting. Continue.”

  “There’s no way one woman could physically lift either Carrie Ann or Melly Grace and arrange them so neatly in the Dumpster. And very few men would bother fussing with hair and scarves.”

  “Any other suspects in mind besides Anna May?”

  “That’s where I’m stuck. Anna May couldn’t do it on her own, but she is capable of bullying someone else into helping her. She hasn’t changed much since high school.”

  “What about Jenny Marie?”

  “I don’t think she has the stomach for it. I think that the file will reveal a number of unsavory characters who have dealings with Anna May. I wouldn’t put it past her to hire one of these people.”

  “Now, why would Anna May be involved with unsavory characters? Don’t you think that’s a bit far-fetched?”

  “Not based on what I’ve heard about her company’s financial problems.”

  “Where are you getting all this information?”

  “Well, it’s…uh…I’ve heard…uh…it’s second-hand information that Sofia has given me.”

  “And where did Sofia get this information?”

  “At Curves.” He needed to know about the leak, but I didn’t want to come right out and say it.

  He laughed. “Gossip from Curves. I’m surprised that you would even consider it.”

  “Get the file and check it out. Something will come of it, I am certain of that.”

  “I will do that. But promise me that you’ll stop investigating.”

  “I won’t do any more investigating today. That I can promise you.”

  “Smart, beautiful, and stubborn. You haven’t changed a bit, Gilda Greco.” He lowered his voice. “After all of this is over, I’m taking you out to dinner.”

  Chapter 10

  I switched to an Enya CD and opened the car window, breathing in the crisp, autumn air as I hummed along to the hauntingly beautiful lyrics. I was in no rush to get back to the condo. Sofia was moving her stuff over, and I knew she would be rearranging furniture in the guest bedroom. I didn’t like being around when she fussed like that.

  I drove without any destination in mind. Before long, I realized that I had reached my mother’s street at the west end of the city. Gatchell. Sudbury’s Little Italy. It was still a working class community, with smaller lots containing houses built before the 1940s. Many of the homes had been restored by the Italian immigrants who had settled the area. I was surprised to find myself heading toward my childhood home, but then I realized that’s where I went when I had good news to share.

  Growing up as an only child, I had a very close bond with both my parents. As my mother’s health became more precarious and fragile, my father and I started to shield and protect her from any unpleasantness. After his death, I continued to protect her as much as I could. I know my disastrous early marriage had affected her, and I tried not to upset her with any other news. I had even kept my brief cancer scare a secret. I had confided in my Guelph friends. I saw no point of involving my mother or any of the Sudbury relatives.

  I wanted to reassure my mother and talk about Carlo. I took special delight in seeing those dark, hooded eyes light up, and the drawn face become more animated and alive. It reminded me of lighting up the Christmas tree for the first time in December. It didn’t happen too often, but when it did, it was memorable.

  I pulled into the driveway and got out of my car. As I opened the door, I was greeted by one of my favorite childhood aromas, a combination of fresh tomato sauce and fragrant dessert, cooking and baking together. I called out, and my mother appeared at the door. She smiled and hugged me close. “Something good has happened. I can feel it in my bones.”

  “I have a surprise for you.”

  “You’ve found someone!” She clapped her hands. “We’ll have him over to dinner tonight…no, tomorrow would be better. I need more time to prepare. I’ll get Amelia and Sofia to help.”

  “Hold your horses, Ma. At this rate, you’ll have me married before Sunday. Let me come in and sit down before you start calling the priest.”

  She nodded and led the way into the kitchen. She grabbed a place mat and started to set a place for me. “You’ll stay for supper. The sauce is almost ready. I’ve made meatballs. We’ll have the linguine.”

  I shook my head. After all these years, my mother still insisted on treating me like a guest and serving me. “That would be lovely, Ma. Just the two of us. We haven’t done that for a while.”

  She busied herself around the kitchen and would occasionally give me an expectant look.

  “It’s Carlo. Carlo Fantin. He wants to have dinner with me as soon as the investigation is over.

  She raised her eyebrows. “He doesn’t think you had anything to do with the murders?”

  “He never did. Everything is just too obvious. Whoever is setting me up is doing a very poor job of it.” I told her about his drive to Manitoulin Island.

  She frowned. “But why are you being set up? Who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “No one does.”

  She made the sign of the cross. “I agree with Amelia. I think there will be another murder and soon. I’m so glad Sofia is staying with you. At least, you will have an alibi.”

  “I don’t think she needs to stay with me for too long. She has her own life, and I’m sure she’ll want to move back to her house when Andrew returns from Italy.” I tried, but I couldn’t recall the last time I had seen Andrew.

  My mother shook her head. “It’s not about the estate. Andrew is never coming back to her.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Sofia and Andrew have separated,” she explained. “After you gave her that million-dollar gift, he moved back to Italy. I hear he’s found himself a much younger woman to keep him company.”

  Unbelievable! Sofia had spoken a great deal about her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party coming up next spring. I remember one lunch where all she did was discuss the menu. How could she not say
anything?

  “Did you think that marriage would last?” my mother asked. “I didn’t think it would last a year.”

  “They had to get married that summer. Don’t you remember?”

  “Of course I remember. I also remember that Sofia lost that baby after one month of marriage. He wanted to leave then.”

  “Sofia didn’t want to hurt her parents. You know how Uncle Paolo and Aunt Amelia can be.”

  “It wasn’t working, and everyone knew it. They could even have gotten an annulment at that time. Monsignor would have helped them.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “Sofia stayed in that marriage to please her parents.”

  “No, Sofia stayed in that marriage to please herself. She liked being married, and she didn’t want the single life.” Her eyes bored into mine.

  I felt myself reddening. I didn’t want to talk about my own walk down the aisle.

  “I was upset when you ended your own marriage.” She paused. “But you didn’t have any other choice. I would have done the same.”

  Another shock. “You never told me that before.”

  My mother spread out her hands. “You didn’t give me a chance. I still remember that call I got from you. You had already left Sudbury and made it clear you weren’t coming back. And Luigi had taken off for God knows where.” She shuddered. “He had to leave. No way could he stay here with that problem.”

  “Luigi doesn’t have a problem. He’s gay, that’s all.”

  “That’s enough.” She sighed. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t figure that out before you got married.”

  There were so many signs, but I chose to ignore them. At age twenty-nine, I had too many bridesmaid dresses in my closet. I was tired of waiting for Mr. Right, so I decided to settle for Mr. Right Now. Luigi Battista and I taught at the same school. We were both introverts and loved to spend our leisure time reading, going to movies and theatre, hiking and cross-country skiing. He also felt the pressure to marry, but thought he could have his cake and eat it too. He married me, but continued to seek the attention of other men. One man in particular, Claude Noel de Tilly, wanted a more exclusive relationship, and Luigi gave in to him.