by V. M. Burns
Dixie looked at me with a sly grin. “Well, maybe we should finish this jar off. We wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”
I got up, pulled the rest of the scones out of the freezer, and nuked them in the microwave and we finished off four scones each and the jar of Double Devon cream.
Dixie stretched. “I’m stuffed like a turkey ready for Thanksgiving.”
I smiled. I’d missed my friend and her quaint southern idioms.
“Now, back to your husband. Did you notice the way that police officer with the blue eyes stared at that marinara stain on your carpet?”
I nodded. “I wondered about that. He can’t believe Albert was shot here and then dragged back to wherever he and the bimbo are staying.”
“Not if it was a burglary.”
I sipped my wine. “We don’t know for sure it was a burglary. I mean, all we have is Bambi’s word on that.”
“Why would she lie?”
I shook my head. “No idea. It just seems odd that they surprised a burglar and he shoots Albert, and that’s it. I mean, don’t thieves usually stick to stealing? Besides, what was he trying to take? And why would the police come here asking questions?”
“Maybe the thieves thought they had a lot of money. I mean Albert owned a used car business.”
I nodded. “Bambi mentioned waiting for him in the ’Vette too.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but the wine had dissolved my filter. “He never let me drive anything as nice as a Corvette. I have a twelve-year-old Honda CRV with over two hundred thousand miles on it.”
“The dirty dog.”
I nodded. “Although I love my CRV. It’s gotten me through many winter snowstorms without so much as a stutter. New tires and brakes are about the only things it’s really needed.”
Dixie patted my hand. “That’s not the point.”
I nodded. “I know.” I looked up. “Oh my goodness, I just thought about the car lot. Somebody will need to make sure everything is taken care of there.”
“Today is Sunday. We can go and check on things tomorrow.”
Dixie and I stayed up late talking. We exhausted our brains about Albert’s shooting and moved on to other topics. Neither of us spoke the reason for the late-night chat out loud, but the way we took turns looking at the time in between yawns spoke volumes. When Stephanie finally unlocked the door, we both breathed a sigh of relief.
“You didn’t have to wait up.” She flopped down next to me on the sofa.
“Who says I was waiting up?” I tried to smile, but my face wouldn’t cooperate. Even without a mirror, I knew I had failed.
Stephanie raised her eyebrow and stared at me until I relented.
“Alright, I was waiting up, but I’m your mom and I’m entitled to worry.”
Dixie nodded. “Yep. It’s in the motherhood handbook.”
Stephanie laughed. “There’s a handbook?”
“Oh yes. It’s like the president’s book of secrets. You know, the one passed down from one president to the other that tells them what’s really in Area Fifty-One and how to use the secret tunnels to sneak out without being seen by the Secret Service,” I joked.
“Well, you can rest easy. I’m home now.” Stephanie laughed but then quickly got serious. “But I’m actually very glad you’re up.”
I braced myself mentally. I had no idea what she might want to talk about, but I knew there would be some unpleasantness after she’d just spent so much time with my in-laws, especially given the circumstances.
She took a deep breath. “You already know Nonna Conti was so distraught she had to be sedated. Well, Bisnonna wasn’t much better. She spoke in Italian the whole time.” Stephanie rubbed the back of her neck and arched her back in a way I’d seen her do before when she was under stress. “My Italian isn’t very good, but it sounded like she wanted Poppi to go to the head of the family to get revenge.” She looked at me. “You don’t think she really wants him to go to some mob boss, do you?”
I shook my head. “I doubt very seriously if your grandfather knows any mob bosses,” I reassured her, but inside, I knew she was serious.
Stephanie shrugged. “Well, Gino and the other uncles just sat around drinking and talking about…” She looked down and pulled at a nonexistent bit of lint on her pants.
I lifted her chin and looked her in the eyes. “It’s okay, honey. I’m sure your uncles and the rest of your father’s family blames me. They always have. Albert was perfect in all of their eyes. Now he’s dead, I figured they’d find some way to make it my fault.”
“That’s crazy. If he hadn’t been prowling around like a common tomcat looking for a female in heat, he’d have been home where he belonged.” Dixie huffed and immediately turned beet red from embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.” I glanced at Stephanie.
“It’s okay, Aunt Dixie.” She sighed. “He’s my dad, and I love him, but he’s responsible for his own actions.”
“I don’t suppose Bambi was there?” I asked.
Stephanie shook her head. “No. Uncle Gino mentioned something about inviting her to come over to be with the family, and Bisnonna put her foot down.” She smiled at the recollection. “Angela looked furious when he brought it up.”
“Does Angela know her?” I asked.
Stephanie shrugged. “Beats me and, after the way she reacted when Gino mentioned her name, I was afraid to ask.”
“Did they discuss funeral arrangements?” I asked.
“Briefly. Bisnonna talked about calling the priest and making arrangements, but I told her that wouldn’t be necessary. I told her that was our responsibility. David, me…and you. We are his family and we would make the arrangements.”
Stephanie’s eyes were as cold as stone, and her chin was set in the rock-solid way that demonstrated her determination. I was certain there was a lot more she could have said, but her silence told me she’d given her arguments and was undeterred by the opposition.
I hugged my daughter tightly. “You’re right. It is our responsibility, and we’ll take care of it.”
She nodded and then stretched. “I’ve already sent a message to my boss. They told me to take as much time as I need. What did David say?”
I filled her in on the conversation I’d had earlier.
“Tomorrow I’ll call the police and find out what we need to do,” she said.
“I’ll call Father Dominick and make arrangements for the services.”
“Look, I’ve never been politically correct. I’m just a straight shooter, so I need you to be honest. If you want me to leave, I can. I’ve got the RV and poodles and I can head back to Michigan for my workshop. I don’t want to be in the way, but if you need me to stay, then I’ll stay. You just tell me what you want.”
“I know this isn’t a fun trip, but I could use some moral support. I think, by the end of this week, I’ll be in desperate need of a friend.”
“Then I’ll be right here.” She smiled and reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Great. I was hoping you’d stay.” Stephanie stood up and stretched. “Now I’m going to bed.”
Dixie took the dogs outside for one last potty break before bed.
I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. After two hours, I got up. I tried not to wake Aggie, who had curled up in the bed next to me, but I had yet to master the skill of getting out of bed with stealth. She got up and stretched several times, her tail wagging a hundred miles a minute. She was a happy dog, and her energy and apparent cheerfulness made me smile. She yawned as though she’d worked a twelve-hour shift. I smiled again as I picked her up and cuddled her closely. I sat in a wingback chair near the window. Dixie had helped me board up the window yesterday, so I wasn’t able to look outside. It was still dark outside and there wasn’t much to look at anyway, s
o I didn’t bother turning on the lights. Instead, I sat in the chair, cuddled up with my new companion, and tried to sort through my emotions. Part of me felt sad. Albert and I had been married over twenty-five years. He was the father of my children. We’d been through good times and bad. Unfortunately, the bad times outnumbered the good in recent years. I forced myself to think about the good times, the birth of our children and the early days of our marriage. I remembered tender moments, walking hand in hand on the beach, and the long days and nights at the car dealership when it first opened. We’d worked hard to start the business, and our hard work paid off. Albert was a good salesman. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I remembered the good times. I thought about the early years and allowed myself to grieve for what had once been.
Albert had never been exceptionally attractive, but as Dixie once said, he could charm the rattle off a rattlesnake. He was a born salesman; he could sell ice to Eskimos in the middle of a blizzard. Managing the business was where he struggled. Dealing with forms, taxes, legal concerns, and finances were Albert’s weaknesses. Fortunately, business, accounting, and numbers were my strength. I used to think, between the two of us, we balanced out. Echosby Cars and Imports became successful. At least I thought it had been successful. If what Albert said in the divorce papers was true, though, business had taken a downturn. Stephanie didn’t believe the numbers Albert’s lawyer reported, and I hadn’t believed them, either. How could business have been so bad? Bambi mentioned waiting for him in the ’Vette. Would he have given her a Corvette to drive if business was bad? Recently, he had taken to driving a BMW, but he often drove nicer vehicles on the premise that it was good advertising for his business. I wondered if perhaps the business really wasn’t doing well. I hadn’t done the books for the business for the last few years, but when I went by the dealership later today, I would make a mental note to get on the computer and take a look. I would also contact Father Dominick at the parish and talk about funeral arrangements, and then I would stop by Lighthouse Dunes Funeral Home.
Aggie was so tired she could barely keep her head up. I cuddled her warm little body and sat up watching her sleep until I fell asleep myself.
I awoke the next morning when I heard a light knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Dixie opened the door and stuck her head inside. “I was going to take the dogs out and thought I’d take Aggie, too, if she’s awake.”
Aggie stretched. I didn’t trust her to walk without relieving herself on the carpet yet, so I carried her to Dixie. When they left, I got in the shower. I had a headache from the lack of sleep and the strain from the emotional roller coaster of the past few days. Had it only been four days since I’d sat across the table from Albert in Stephanie’s office? I sighed and allowed the warm water to massage away the stress of the past few days. I took several deep breaths. I’d need strength and a great deal of coffee to get through the next week.
After the shower, I needed something to boost my self-confidence, so I took extra care in dressing and applying makeup. Chances were good I’d run into Bambi or some member of Albert’s family, and I was already vulnerable enough without feeling like an old, washed-up hag.
When I went downstairs, Stephanie was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee. She’d brought up an old coffeemaker from the basement that brewed a pot rather than individual cups, and she’d replaced the high-tech individual coffeemaker with the old one. I held up the carafe and raised an eyebrow.
“It was easier than constantly getting up to make more.”
I nodded and filled a mug. “Did you get any sleep?”
I could tell by her droopy eyelids and the puffy bags underneath her eyes that not only had she not slept well, but she had also been crying.
She shook her head. “No. I gave up trying around four o’clock and came downstairs.” There was a pile of old photo albums on the table. She must have been looking through them and crying at what once had been, while I was upstairs doing the same.
I gave her a hug. “Are you hungry?”
She sniffed. “Surprisingly, yes.” She smiled and then looked a bit sheepish. “I was just thinking how much I’d love some of your waffles.”
“I haven’t made waffles in years. I’m not sure where I put the waffle iron.” I started to get up.
Stephanie reached down, picked up the large waffle iron, and placed it on the table. She gave me a sly grin. “When I was downstairs getting the old coffeemaker, I found this too.”
I laughed. “Well, then I’d better get busy. Why don’t you go and get a shower, and I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re done.”
She left and I got busy. I fried a pound of bacon and mixed up the batter for waffles. By the time Stephanie came downstairs, Dixie and I were on a second pot of coffee and the bacon and waffles were ready.
We devoured the huge breakfast in silence. As she used her last forkful of waffle to sop up the remaining syrup, Stephanie released a satisfied sigh. “That was delicious.”
I smiled. It had been a long time since I’d made breakfast for more than one person. Albert rarely ate at home, preferring to eat with business associates so he could claim them as tax deductions.
“Don’t forget to call the police station and find out when they’re going to release the…” I hesitated over the impersonal word body. Albert had been a living, breathing person, and regardless of his faults, he deserved to be remembered as more than simply a “body.”
“It’s okay, Mom. You can say it. You taught me to face things head-on.” She sat up straight and pushed her shoulders back.
“Your father’s remains.”
“I already did. I called Officer Harrison earlier.” I must have looked puzzled, because she added, “He’s the officer who came by yesterday.” She looked down and a flush came into her cheeks. She took a drink of coffee.
Dixie smiled. “Was that the one with the deep blue eyes?”
There was a moment of silence, and then Dixie and I burst out laughing.
Stephanie looked at us and then laughed herself. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” She smiled and then looked serious. “He wants us to come to the station to make a statement. He said the coroner would probably be able to release the body to the funeral home by Wednesday.”
I nodded and picked up my cell phone. “I better call Father Dominick.” The phone was still turned off from yesterday. Once the phone was on, I noticed I’d had fifteen missed calls and ten voice messages. For a moment, my heart raced. I’d turned off my phone to avoid talking to Albert. What if he’d left me a message? I took a deep breath, turned on the phone’s speaker, and listened to each message. Most were from Bambi, continuing to rant about money. She sounded more frantic with each message. One message was from Father Dominick, offering his condolences and stating he would be at the parish later today if we needed anything.
There was a missed call from my mother in-law, with no message, and a call from Gino, asking me to call him first thing, but no messages from Albert. Part of me was relieved, while another part was curious why he’d called in the first place if he wasn’t going to bother to leave a message. My brain wrestled with that for several minutes, but no answers came. Eventually, I had to shake it off and move forward.
I called Father Dominick and arranged to meet him at three this afternoon. I called my brother in-law but got his voice mail. I left a message, stating I’d try him again later. I took a last swig of coffee and braced myself for the call to my mother in-law.
The phone was picked up on the first ring. “Good morn—”
It was clear, very early in the call, that this was not going to be a dialogue, but a monologue, in which my mother in-law screamed, shouted, cried, and then screamed some more. Thankfully, most of the rant was in Italian, so I didn’t bother trying to figure out what she was saying. I had a pretty good idea it wasn’t complimenta
ry. After the first few seconds, I pressed the mute and the speaker buttons on the phone and placed it on the table.
Dixie, Stephanie, and I stared at each other and waited for the rant to wind down. It took about three minutes before her energy was spent and she ended with a wail and sobs.
I took a deep breath and turned off the mute button. “Camilia, we are going to the parish at three to discuss the arrangements.” I hesitated a moment, then shut my eyes and hurried on. “Would you like to come with us? We can come by and pick you—”
She wailed louder and then the phone went silent.
“Camilia, are you there?”
After a few moments, I heard my father in-law’s thick Italian accent. “Camilia is very upset. I think it would be best if she rested.”
The wailing continued in the background.
He raised his voice to be heard over the noise. “Maybe you call us back a little later. Okay?”
“Okay.” I hung up. “He sounds exhausted.”
“I can only imagine how hard it must be to lose a child.” Dixie shook her head.
Stephanie shook her head. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“No parent is ever prepared for that.” I patted her hand. “That’s what keeps me from telling her off. I put myself in her place, and I’d be a basket case if I…” I choked down the tears.
Stephanie gave me a hug.
Dixie got up, grabbed a roll of paper towels, and placed it on the table. “We have to pull ourselves together. There’s work to do.”
I looked at my watch. “It’s nine thirty. I think we should go to the dealership first and then swing by the police station and make our statements. We can grab lunch after that, and then head to St. Adalbert’s to meet with Father Dominick.”
Everyone agreed, and we headed out.
Highway 2 was the main highway that led into town. If you were traveling from the bigger town of South Bend, you would take Highway 2 west to Lighthouse Dunes. It was a straight shot. For the majority of the route, the two-lane highway was flanked by corn and wheat fields. As the highway led into Lighthouse Dunes, the speed limit decreased, and businesses begin to populate the landscape. Echosby Cars and Imports occupied a large lot just on the outskirts of the highway, which provided good visibility. I pulled my CRV into the back of the lot, behind the office. It was ten and the doors were still locked. I pulled in beside a bright yellow Corvette and then looked over at Dixie in the passenger seat of my Honda.