A Season for Killing Blondes

by Joanne Guidoccio

  “I’d love to help, but I don’t think I can. We haven’t had much success whittling down this list of suspects. Do you think those two wives were involved?”

  “I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of people,” Grace said. “But I am not ready to share that information with you. It could be dangerous, and I don’t want to upset you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because I want to ambush the suspects in the alleyway behind your office.”

  “And then what?”

  “I want a confrontation and a confession.”

  “Does your mother know about any of this?”

  “I haven’t shared any of my premonitions with her. It would upset her, and she’s made too much progress to have a setback now. I won’t mess with that.”

  “But you’ll mess with a murderer. You could be the next victim. You’re a blonde, and you have Godfrey blood. That’s a dangerous combination these days.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “We need to get the police involved.” I picked up the phone. “Let’s call Carlo.”

  “How do you think he’ll react when I talk about my intuitive feelings?”

  “You convinced me.”

  “But you are open to the possibility. You’ve had a lifetime of listening to your mother’s prophetic dreams.”

  “How did you know about her dreams?”

  “She told me about the dream she had the night before Carrie Ann died.”

  I remembered my mother mentioning a dream, but I had pooh-poohed her concerns. She hadn’t brought it up again until last night. I turned my attention back to Grace.

  “You may downplay them, but in your heart of hearts, I think you believe in them. And you want closure. Until this matter is resolved, you and my mother won’t have any peace of mind.”

  “Melly Grace taught you well,” I said. “If you ever get tired of the creative life and want more money, consider a legal career.”

  “Maybe someday. Right now, I love what I’m doing.” She persisted. “So will you help me? I don’t expect you to become directly involved. For you, the risk is a minimal one.”

  “I will need to know all the details, and Carlo Fantin must be told about the plan. We won’t talk about prophetic dreams. We’ll mention gut feelings. Most men can identify with that. Those are my two conditions.”

  Grace groaned. “Oh, all right. I know you want an excuse, any excuse to call him.”

  “Grace!”

  “It’s okay. You’re allowed to have the hots for him. I totally approve, and I want to ambush the murderer.”

  Chapter 27

  It was the first time I saw Carlo in jeans and a sweatshirt. His pants were clean but well-worn and the dark blue Roots sweatshirt looked like a recent purchase. He arrived at the back door of the office in less than fifteen minutes after I placed the call.

  “Are you trying to set a new record for responding to voicemail?” Grace asked as she winked at me.

  “While dropping off some forms, I happened to hear Gilda’s voice on the machine.” A hint of a smile crossed his face as he turned to me. “It seems every telephone conversation with you has some kind of drama attached to it, but I must say today’s message took the prize. And to make it even more mysterious, you insisted I use the back entrance.”

  “Grace thinks someone has been watching and following her,” I explained

  “How long has this been going on?” Carlo turned to Grace.

  “I noticed it the day of the memorial service and this morning.” Grace said.

  Carlo’s eyes met mine. “I take it you have news of some kind.”

  “I don’t have all the details, but Grace has a plan to ambush the murderer.” I wanted Grace to take over the conversation.

  “I thought you had uncovered a new piece of evidence. What’s this about ambushing the murderer? Do you know how dangerous that is?” He maintained eye contact with me.

  “Slow down, Detective, and chill a bit.” Grace smiled confidently. “I have very strong gut feelings about the murderer. I have narrowed it down to two suspects, both of whom were at last night’s party.”

  She had Carlo’s full attention. “Strong gut feelings. Hmm. How often do you get these feelings?”

  “I felt this way when my grandma died and when my father took up with the office bimbo.”

  “Who do you suspect?” Carlo folded his arms, his expression newly tense.

  “I’m not ready to say.” Grace nodded toward me. “It would be too dangerous.”

  “If you don’t plan to share this information, why did you even bother calling me?” His jaw tightened and his lips formed a thin line of anger.

  “I told her I wouldn’t get involved unless you knew about this,” I said. “I’m still holding you to that promise, Grace.”

  Carlo cast a steely glance in my direction. “What kind of plan have you hatched?”

  I nodded toward Grace. “I’m waiting for Grace to be more forthcoming.”

  “Oh, all right. I’ll tell him but only him.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

  Carlo paled and closed his eyes.

  “You agree with her, don’t you?” I started to tremble and had to lean on my desk.

  “Yes, yes I do.” He maintained eye contact with Grace. “How did you come up with that?”

  “After Anna May died, I spent an entire week helping my mother clean out her office and bedroom. I found a diary which Anna May kept. It’s written in a secret code and shorthand which I have been able to decipher. I had to fill in some of the missing spaces—”

  “You found Anna May’s diary, and you didn’t think to turn it in?” Carlo raised his voice. “Young lady, you can’t just take evidence away. You could be charged—”

  “It wasn’t at the crime scene,” Grace spoke defiantly. “The diary was in one of Anna May’s chest drawers. And if you had found it first, you wouldn’t have been able to do much with it.”

  “You should have let me be the judge of that,” Carlo answered testily.

  Grace unzipped her backpack and pulled out the diary. She handed it over to Carlo.

  As he flipped through the pages, his eyes narrowed. He threw the diary on the desk. “This is a mess. She must have been drunk or high on something.”

  “I figured out the code,” Grace said.

  “What code? There’s no rhyme or reason to any of these scribbles.” Carlo’s eyes flickered with anger and impatience as he glanced toward the door.

  It’s Melly Grace’s code,” Grace explained. “She shared it with me when I visited several years ago. I remembered most of it, and I figured out the shorthand from an old Pitman textbook.”

  Carlo’s features softened at the mention of Melly Grace’s name. He gave Grace his full attention.

  Grace pulled out a folder and handed it to him. “I typed up a transcript of the diary for you, and I included a sheet with the code.”

  Carlo skimmed through the document, nodding as he read. “I’m impressed, Ms. Robinson. So, what’s your plan?”

  Grace flashed him one of her stunning smiles. “You’re in. Great!”

  “I am willing to listen. That’s all. I cannot condone anything that would endanger either your life or Gilda’s.” Carlo leaned back in his chair. “So, let’s hear it.”

  Grace took out two envelopes with carefully folded sheets of paper. “I plan to send each of the suspects the following note.” She handed one copy to me and another to Carlo.

  The computer-generated note was brief and to the point:

  I have found Anna May’s diary, and I think you may be interested in reading some of the October entries. Meet me on Wednesday at 6:00 p.m in the alleyway behind the ReCareering office.

  Grace Robinson

  I shivered, and Carlo raised his eyebrows. No one said anything for several minutes.

  Grace became impatient. “I thought it would be very appropriate to meet where all of this started. I also picked the same time an
d day of the week as the first murder.”

  “It’s intriguing,” Carlo said. “What makes you think either one of them will bite?”

  “How do you plan to send these notes?” While I couldn’t imagine involving anyone else in this scheme, I didn’t want Grace delivering the notes.

  “One of my friends is a florist, and she often handles special deliveries,” Grace explained.

  “I hate to sound like a broken record, but I need to ask the question again,” Carlo said. “What makes you so sure they will show up?”

  Grace shrugged. “Curiosity and guilt are great motivators. I won’t be alone in that alleyway.”

  “All right, so they show up.” Carlo spread his hands. “What then?”

  “I’ll share several entries,” Grace said. “There will be some kind of reaction, and then I’ll force a confession.”

  “Just like that!” Carlo snapped his fingers. “Grace, it may not happen that way? Are you prepared for angry words…or worse?”

  “That’s where Gilda comes in. I plan to wire myself, and she will be able to listen in on the conversation. If things get heated, she can call you.”

  “Where is Gilda supposed to be while all of this is happening?” Carlo asked.

  Grace waved her hand around the office. “She could hide out in here.”

  “Too dangerous!” Carlo shouted. “I won’t allow it.”

  “I have to agree with Carlo,” I said. “This is too far-fetched. I don’t even know the names of these people, and I’m worried.”

  “What do you know about wires?” Carlo asked.

  “Melly Grace showed me how it’s done. When I visited her, I watched as she wired herself before meeting with one of her clients. She gave me a wiring kit, and I have tested it several times. I used it last night at the party.”

  “You were wired last night?” I thought back and remembered how demure Grace had looked in a high-collared and long-sleeved blouse with black dress pants.

  “I fooled all of you, didn’t I?”

  Carlo stroked his chin while maintaining eye contact with Grace. “I’m still uneasy about all of this, but my gut feeling is telling me that you might be able to pull this off if you do exactly what I tell you.”

  “I’m listening.” Grace gave him her full attention.

  “I’ll wire you myself and give you a test run tomorrow. On Thursday, I’ll get one of the officers to drive Gilda and me to the alleyway in an unmarked van. He’ll be dressed in undercover clothes, and after dropping us off, he’ll walk toward the plaza. Anyone watching won’t think anything of it. There’s at least one vehicle parked illegally in that alleyway each day.” He turned to face me. “Gilda and I will be stationed in that van while you confront the murderer. We’ll be able to listen to the conversation, and act immediately if there is a problem. I’ll be armed, and I’ll make sure that there are several police cars nearby.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Grace clapped in excitement. “Let’s do it!”

  “Grace, this is serious,” Carlo said, eyeing her with concern. “You know what these people are capable of.”

  “It’s the only way, Carlo.” Her lovely face grew tight with concern. “I can’t expose my mother to any more of this senseless violence.”

  His dark brows drew together in a suspicious frown. “Why do you think Jenny Marie is in danger?”

  “Because the murderer doesn’t know how much she knows.”

  “What does she know?” Carlo asked.

  Grace shook her head. “She’s vague and changes the subject every time I bring it up.”

  “I’m still not convinced this will work, but I am willing to give it a try.” My heart beat wildly, and I doubted that I would be able to sleep until Thursday.

  “Fine.” Carlo nodded in Grace’s direction. “Come to the station tomorrow. It’s Sunday, and it’ll be quiet. I want to see how well you handle the wire, and we’ll go over some of the other details.” He turned to me. “I imagine you’ll be working on Thursday. Leave around five-fifteen and drive over to the Canadian Tire Plaza. I’ll be waiting there in a dark blue van at the far end, near the bank. Make sure your receptionist and anyone else working here leaves early. And don’t tell anyone else about this plan.”

  My eyes welled with tears. “My family and friends think I have moved on.”

  “But you’re still inwardly obsessing,” Carlo spoke softly.

  “I can’t get those four women out of my mind,” I said. “Those murders were senseless and did not have to happen. We owe it to their memory to bring the murderer to justice.”

  “And we will do that on Thursday.” Grace clapped her hands. “I can feel it.”

  Chapter 28

  After Carlo and Grace left, I couldn’t focus on my paperwork and didn’t know how I would get through the next five days. I had to keep busy and be out and about as much as possible.

  My thoughts were rudely interrupted by incessant banging at the front window. I glanced at my watch. Not even ten o’clock. Who would be clamoring for career advice at this hour on a Saturday morning? As I approached the front office, I caught glimpses of four worried and tired faces at the window. Aunt Amelia, Uncle Paolo, Rosa Geraldi and Maria Rossi peered into the office while continuing to bang at the window.

  I laughed as I let them in. “Is someone in desperate need of career advice?”

  Aunt Amelia made the sign of the cross as she entered. “We were across the street at the grocery store, and we saw the dead woman coming out of the alleyway.”

  “The first dead one,” Maria said. “The pretty one from Sudbury.”

  “I’d know Carrie Ann anywhere,” Rosa spoke confidently. “I used to alter her clothes.”

  “I saw her too.” Uncle Paolo nodded toward the back door. “We should call Detective Fantin right away. Have him check out that back alley.”

  I held back a smile. Imagine calling Carlo and asking him to investigate Carrie Ann’s reappearance. That would be an even more memorable telephone message than the one I had left this morning. “That was Grace Robinson, her niece, Jenny Marie’s daughter,” I explained to Aunt Amelia. “She was at Sofia’s party last night. Remember the pretty young woman who talked to you and Uncle Paolo?”

  Aunt Amelia groaned. “There were so many strange people there last night, I couldn’t keep track. I had such a headache, and I worried there wouldn’t be enough gnocchi for everyone.”

  “I don’t know why you worry so much about food,” Uncle Paolo said. “Sofia is the best cook around.”

  “I could have sworn that was Carrie Ann,” Rosa said. “It’s remarkable how much the niece resembles her. Even more than she resembles her own mother.”

  “I’m so glad we cleared that up,” Maria said. “We were so worried that you might have another murder on your hands.”

  “Don’t even think it!” Aunt Amelia made another sign of the cross and mumbled a Hail Mary. Her eyes traveled around the room. “Remember how beautiful this office looked before…?”

  Maria sighed. “Those delicious stuffed figs and amaretto cookies. It’s too bad more people didn’t get to see it.”

  “What a disaster!” Uncle Paolo said. “All that food and drink ordered. We had to give most of it away.”

  I did not want to continue this trip down Bad Memory Lane. “We’ll have another one.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same.” Aunt Amelia frowned in disapproval. “And it’s too soon after the murders.”

  “I agree with Amelia,” Maria said. “It would be bad for business and could work against you.”

  “We could do a Christmas open house.” If all went well with Grace’s plan, the murders would be solved in less than a week’s time. “Maybe plan a party with Santa or the Befana for needy children. We could order from the Sicilian bakery again and have a totally different decorating scheme. Let’s have it on a Saturday or Sunday.” I spoke directly to Maria. “Do you think Belinda could handle the extra work?”

  “Of co
urse she can,” Maria said. “She loves to plan parties. And I would help.”

  “We’ll all help.” Aunt Amelia sighed. “But don’t expect too much help from Sofia. She’s got her hands full dealing with Roberto.”

  “I don’t understand that daughter of yours,” Maria said. “She got rid of one loser, and then she found herself an even bigger loser.”

  “Why does she do this to herself?” Rosa asked.

  “The money is making her very attractive to Mr. Ongaro,” Uncle Paolo said. “He usually goes for the young ones who can’t cook, and who let his mother take over all the time.”

  “That woman never smiles.” Aunt Amelia shivered. “She refused to attend last night’s party.” She noted the shocked expressions on our faces and continued, “La signora needed more time to recover from her dental appointment of two days ago.”

  “You don’t know what she had done,” I said. “Some of those procedures can leave you with bleeding and sensitive gums for a few days.”

  Aunt Amelia put up one finger. “She had one small filling, that’s all. She just didn’t want to give Sofia any satisfaction last night. She’s a bitter old woman who wants Roberto all for herself.”

  “Is Sofia planning to marry this man?” Maria asked.

  “Roberto held on to her pretty tight last night,” Uncle Paolo said. “He talked to everyone about getting into politics and having Sofia help with his campaign.”

  “She’s good at that kind of thing,” Rosa said.

  “It’s too much for her.” Aunt Amelia’s eyes darkened. “I can tell she’s tired all the time. Why does she need to worry about pleasing someone like him anyway?”

  I didn’t want to get into a discussion about the merits of Mr. Right Now. But I did agree that Sofia was burning herself out.

  Before leaving, Maria and Rosa promised to help with the Christmas open house. As they went out the door, they started to talk about some of the desserts they would bake. My relatives waited until they were out of earshot.

  “We’re worried about Sofia,” Aunt Amelia said. “You need to talk to her about Roberto.”