by J. D. Griffo
“Really?” Jinx asked, severely disappointed.
“Absolutely.”
“So how did you figure out Sister Maria was nothing more than a religious ruse?” Helen asked.
“The last time you were here in my office, Jinx forgot to change into a sensible black pump,” Father Sal described. “And while I appreciate a brown patent leather ankle boot, flashy footwear isn’t something our bishop condones.” Sal waved a slipper-clad foot in the air. “Which is why I only wear these in private.”
“I can’t believe my footwear gave me away!” Jinx cried.
“Our luck we’d be saddled with a priest who’s got a shoe fetish,” Helen added.
Laughing, Sal poured three glasses of white wine into much fancier glasses than those that ever graced Alberta’s kitchen table and asked, “To what do I owe the honor of your company this time?”
Sal sat back in the black leather chair behind his desk, his feet propped up on a stack of old newspapers, giving the appearance of being in a production of a Noël Coward play instead of the spiritual leader he proved he could be.
Helen and Jinx sat side by side in the chesterfield sofa across from Sal’s desk.
“Le mani inattive sono il giocattolo del diavolo.”
“Idle hands are the devil’s plaything,” Sal translated Helen’s comment. “But that doesn’t answer my question, which is why have you two forced your way into my office?”
“Because we suspect you’ve been playing God,” Helen explained. “And that’s something only the devil would approve of.”
Sal’s expression changed slightly as he contemplated the cryptic nature of Helen’s words. It changed even more drastically when she placed a copy of the photo of a young Sal standing next to a twenty-year-old Sharon onto his desk. While the photo might be old, the memory was still fresh in Sal’s mind.
“There’s an unwritten rule in the priesthood,” Sal began. “Sometimes revealing priest-parishioner confidentiality is unavoidable especially when the priest is growing weary of keeping secrets.”
“What secrets?” Jinx asked. “About Sharon’s baby?”
Raising an eyebrow, Sal replied, “So you know Sharon was pregnant when this photo was taken?”
“The baby bump is pretty obvious,” she confirmed.
“If you’re looking for such a thing,” Sal muttered.
“The photo was taken right after Sharon married David Basco and right before she left to study in Europe,” Helen explained.
“Yes and no,” Sal replied.
“Spill it, Sal,” Helen said. “What do you know about this?”
“Yes, this photo was taken after Sharon and David’s wedding, but she was never going to study in Europe,” Sal divulged. “That was just a ploy to get her out of the country.”
“Why?” Jinx asked.
“So she could have her baby overseas,” Sal replied.
“To ensure the baby could have dual citizenship?” Jinx questioned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh dear,” Helen whispered. “The baby wasn’t David’s.”
Shaking his head sadly, Sal confirmed, “No, it wasn’t. And even though you could tell she was pregnant from this photo, David didn’t notice or maybe he ignored the fact, but as far as I know he was clueless that she was having another man’s child.”
“Whose child?” Jinx asked. “Who was the baby’s father?”
Sighing, Sal rubbed his forehead with his hands, clearly this trip down memory lane was not a leisurely stroll. “I will deny this if this information ever leaks out, do you understand me, Helen?”
“I understand.”
“Sharon didn’t know who the father was,” Sal explained. “She wasn’t what could be described back then as a ‘good girl.’ Despite the fact that she was class valedictorian and had a college scholarship, inner beauty is sometimes only skin deep.”
“No one else knew she was pregnant except you?” Jinx asked.
Fidgeting in his chair, Sal was suddenly upset and looked like he might bolt from his own office. “The young girl came to me for help, she was pregnant with another man’s child, her new husband had already told her that he didn’t want children, he was vehemently against it and since he was wealthy and came from a good family Sharon, whose own family life was less than ideal, felt that her future was guaranteed if she remained his wife. If the truth were revealed, she would lose everything.”
“Exactly what kind of help did she want from you?” Helen questioned warily.
“Absolution because she was planning on having an abortion,” Sal replied. “Thankfully I was able to get her to understand there were other options and I concocted a plan that got her out of the country to study in Europe for a semester.”
“But that isn’t what happened,” Jinx said.
“No,” Sal confirmed. “What really happened was I arranged for her to meet with Catholic Charities in Ireland, who would help her give birth and put the baby up for adoption.”
“You did all of that?” Helen asked.
“I know you don’t approve of me, Helen, and I know you have your . . . doubts about the Catholic Church, et al., but we are not all bad people,” Sal said, visibly moved by his words. “You do remember all the work I did for St. Joe’s?”
Helen rolled her eyes, but by the looks of her pout it was obvious that she not only knew of Sal’s work, but approved of it. “Yes, I remember.”
“What’s St. Joe’s?” Jinx asked.
“A mental institution,” Helen replied.
“Please don’t call it that,” Father Sal urged. “We referred to it as a therapeutic facility. Even though those of us who worked and volunteered there did put our lives on the line dealing with such violent, wayward, and out-of-control youth.”
Throwing up her hands, Helen barked, “Even when you’ve done something good you still have to pat yourself on the back.”
“There is nothing wrong with honesty, Helen,” Sal countered. “And the truth is I did what I thought was best for the girl and her unborn child. And by all accounts everything worked out the way that God and I planned.”
“Until Sharon started having an affair with Kichiro to escape her loveless marriage that literally began on lies and betrayal,” Jinx reminded.
“Young girl, there are some personal demons that you can never run from,” Sal commented. “Just ask your aunt.”
The air immediately turned thick and Jinx, not knowing what else to do, grabbed her aunt by the hand and squeezed it. Helen didn’t return the gesture. Instead, she stood up, took the copy of the photo, returned it to her pocketbook, and left the office without saying a word.
“Thank you,” Jinx said. “I mean it, you really have given us quite a lot to think about.”
Jinx waved goodbye to Sal. When he returned the gesture, in spite of the unborn child he had saved, all she could think of was that the priest had blood on his hands.
CHAPTER 20
Una rosa da qualsiasi altro nome.
The ladies’ black wardrobe perfectly matched their mood.
Alberta, Jinx, Helen, and Joyce were sitting around Alberta’s kitchen table along with Bruno, Sloan, and Freddy, sitting on mismatched chairs brought into the kitchen from the rest of the house. Even though Alberta had put in the extension to the table to make it larger, it was still overflowing with food and there was barely space for each person’s plate. There were trays of lasagna, baked ziti, and stuffed peppers; two cold-cut platters with prosciutto, soppresata, and capicola rolled into thin meat cylinders; several small dishes with mozzarella floating in a river of watery milk; platters stacked with sliced cheeses and sprinkled with olives; bowls of peppers in a variety of colors; little dishes filled with artichoke hearts; a bowl of broccoli rabe; in between all the trays and platters were scattered loaves of hard, crusty bread; and in the center of the table there was a huge bowl filled with meatballs, sausage, and bracciole. It was a feast fit for several kings, plus their entourages, but hardly anyone
was eating and no one looked festive. Lola, whose shiny black fur with her chic white stripe over her left eye made her appropriately dressed for the occasion, sauntered into the kitchen enticed by the cavalcade of smells, but took one look at the dismal-looking crowd, let out a disdainful purr, and returned to her bed in the living room. At least in there an Eydie Gormé record was playing so the room might be empty, but the atmosphere, at least, was festive.
The humans, however, had a reason to be somber, they had just returned from Kichiro’s burial, which was a much sadder affair than the service that was held for Jonas Harper. Jonas’s death was no less a surprise, but even though he had lived his entire life in Tranquility he had become something of an outsider. He was someone who was familiar to everyone, but almost too familiar, and Jonas had become like one of those signs seen on the side of the road every day that after a while aren’t noticed. While he was part of the community, like Lori had noted, he had become persone invisibile.
On the other hand, Kichiro’s death had a much greater impact and had shaken up the community. When it was divulged that Jonas had been murdered, there was interest and speculation. But now that there was a second murder victim, who was a police detective, there was outrage. No one wanted to do anything but talk about vengeance and making sure the culprit was tried, convicted, and served a full life sentence. Since that culprit was Nola and she was their friend, they believed—or desperately hoped to believe—that she was innocent so none of them thought it appropriate to attend the repast held at the police station. Making matters worse, Kichiro’s parents had flown in from Minnesota, where they lived, and they were justifiably devastated by the loss of their only son.
“I wanted to say something to Kichiro’s mother,” Alberta said, breaking the silence in the room. “But for once in my life I didn’t know what to say.”
“Vinny was with her for quite a bit so she wasn’t alone,” Jinx replied. “And Lori spent a lot of time with her and Kichiro’s father, too.”
“Yeah, I overheard her telling some stories about Kich to them, which made them smile, even laugh a bit,” Freddy added. “I didn’t realize she knew him so well.”
“All aspects of the police force work very closely together,” Sloan said. “Detectives, cops, medical examiner, judges, district attorneys, they’re a close-knit family. Which is why when they lose one of their own it’s sometimes more devastating than when they lose a relative.”
“Family isn’t only made up of blood relations,” Alberta said. “It’s filled with the people we meet along the way and choose to love. Like Nola.”
At the mention of the young woman’s name the room once again went silent. Eydie could be overheard blaming it on the bossa nova, and each person thought how wonderful it would be to cast blame for the murders of Jonas and Kichiro on someone else, but the unfortunate reality was that the blame for both of those murders was put on only one person—Nola Kirkpatrick. And since one of those murder victims was a police officer, the case against Nola had become high profile. People were interested and people wanted justice. They also wanted it swiftly.
“I was waiting for a good time to share this with the rest of you, but since the information isn’t very good I’ve just been stalling,” Bruno announced.
“Make believe you ate one of Jinx’s concoctions and spit it out,” Helen ordered.
“I take umbrage with that description, but I agree with the advice,” Jinx said. “And yes, I’m a reporter so I can use words like ‘umbrage.’ ”
“The district attorney is putting Nola’s trial on the fast track and it’s scheduled for two weeks from today,” Bruno shared.
The entire table erupted, each person responding to Bruno’s statement with a shout, a groan, a hand slap on the table, overpowering Eydie’s singing and each other’s words. The volume grew and the disjointed conversation continued until Alberta’s shrill voice quieted the group. “What did you expect would happen?”
“I, for one, thought that we’d have some more time to investigate and find the real killer,” Jinx offered.
“Why?” Alberta asked. “The police believe they’ve found her and from all the evidence so far I honestly don’t blame them for thinking they have an ironclad case and don’t need to look any further.”
“Gram! I thought you believed Nola is innocent?”
“I do, lovey, but it doesn’t matter what I think or what any one of us thinks,” Alberta replied. “The only thing that matters is what the police think the DA can prove. And let’s face it, the cards are stacked pretty high against the poor girl.”
“I’m afraid Alberta’s right, Jinx,” Bruno said, almost sheepishly. “The police have a really good case against her.”
“Is this how a public defender is supposed to talk?” Jinx cried. “You’re Nola’s lawyer. You’re supposed to proclaim her innocence every chance you get, not bend to the power of the mob.”
Visibly angered by Jinx’s accusation, Bruno proved that he had inherited not only his mother’s looks, but also her Swedish temperament. When he spoke, his voice didn’t possess a hint of the Sicilian rage that was more than likely bubbling just underneath his skin. He was professional, articulate, and, unfortunately, honest.
“I completely believe in Nola’s innocence, please don’t question that, Jinx. In fact, I hope none of you question it, but as her lawyer it’s my job to accept reality and not gamble with my client’s life. That’s why I urged Nola to accept a plea bargain and take a lesser sentence.”
“You did what?”
Jinx’s outburst led the group into another round of screaming, bickering, fist pounding, and arm raising. The little mob was definitely getting restless, and all of their anger, frustration, and fear was being directed at the one man who was in a position to help Nola the most.
“Don’t worry, Nola refused.”
“Good!” Jinx cried. “She shouldn’t confess to something she didn’t do.”
“But, lovey,” Alberta started, “things might get a lot worse for Nola if this really does go to trial.”
“Which it most definitely will,” Bruno assured.
“How can things get worse when she’s innocent?” Jinx said.
Alberta gave Jinx a look as if to say that she should know better, and Jinx immediately understood that her comment sounded like a foolish child’s wish. “I know I sound like a spoiled brat who doesn’t understand why she can’t have a golden goose, but you can’t throw in the towel before the fight’s even begun.”
“Do you really think that Nola’s going to get a fair trial in this town?” Bruno asked, then continued on without waiting for a reply. “Thanksgiving is right around the corner and there are statistics to prove that juries will rush to a decision just so they don’t have to deliberate over a holiday. And worse, the court of public opinion has already ruled that the allegedly prim and proper Catholic high school teacher is really a double murderess who killed both Jonas and Kichiro.”
“But isn’t all the evidence against her kind of circumstantial?” Freddy asked.
“Not really,” Sloan said, shaking his head. He turned to Bruno and asked, “Would you like to lay it out or shall I?”
“Why don’t you go ahead,” Bruno replied, then continued sarcastically. “No one wants to hear the truth from a lawyer, maybe they’ll believe it if it comes from the kindly librarian.”
“I usually love to hear the things you have to say, Sloan,” Alberta said. “But I don’t think I want to hear this.”
Patting Alberta’s hand, Sloan said, “Don’t hold it against me, but you know I’m a man who deals with facts and research and, well, the facts are not being kind to Nola’s case.” He took a deep breath and continued to detail the case against Nola and just how guilty it made the young woman look.
“Nola doesn’t have an alibi for the times of the murders. She was allegedly with Kichiro when Jonas was killed, and we have the tape recording of her asking Kichiro to meet her the night he was killed. She had a
restraining order out against Jonas for stalking her that she subsequently withdrew, but still something happened to make her file for it in the first place. The final toxicology report identified the pesticide that was found in Jonas’s system and was the actual cause of his death as parathion, the same pesticide found in the dirt outside of Nola’s classroom and that was hidden in the toilet bowl in her bathroom. Her blood was found on the bodies of both the murder victims. And worst of all she has motive for both murders.” Sloan finally took a breath before summing things up. “The stalking incident gives her motive to kill Jonas, and the fact that her boyfriend was cheating on her gives her a reason to want Kichiro dead, too.”
“But Kichiro wasn’t really her boyfriend!” Jinx cried.
“That’s hearsay!” Bruno interjected. “Her word against the court’s. And Kichiro’s not here to corroborate her story.”
“But Sharon is!” Jinx cried.
“And what makes you think she would do such a selfless thing as to come forward and exonerate Nola?” Bruno asked. “You’re just being naïve and stupid.”
“Hey! Watch your mouth!” Freddy yelled, defending his girlfriend.
“No, I’m not going to watch my mouth because it’s the truth,” Bruno said, not backing down. “Sharon might be the principal of St. Winifred’s Academy, but she’s hardly saintly herself. She was cheating on her husband with a town cop and instead of trying to keep it on the down low she enlisted an employee to act as her lover’s girlfriend to thwart any suspicion from herself. Her actions are the definition of a narcissist, and a narcissist is never going to help someone else especially if that help is going to expose their crime.”
“I have to agree with you,” Helen said. “You could put that woman under oath, ask her point blank, and she’d still lie on the stand to save her own backside. And our silence has only made matters worse.”
Shaking her head, Alberta agreed, “We should’ve told Vinny the moment we knew. Now it would sound like we’re making it up to help Nola.”