A Room with a Pew

by Peg Cochran

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Just fine.”

  “The instructions say you’re supposed to take it easy for a couple of days.”

  “How am I going to take it easy when I’ve got to go to work? Tony can’t handle things by himself. Plus, I’ve got to go over the books and get some information to the accountant.”

  “Why don’t I go get the books for you, and you can work on them at home. That ought to be nice quiet work like the doctor ordered.”

  Frankie grunted.

  A few minutes later, they pulled into their driveway. Lucille went to help Frankie out of the car, but he scowled at her.

  “I’m fine. You don’t have to treat me like I’m some kind of invalid.”

  Lucille held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

  She heard a car pull into Mario’s driveway next door. She couldn’t remember Mario ever having any company before.

  The driver’s-side door opened and a woman got out. It looked like maybe Mario had gotten himself a girlfriend, Lucille thought. She squinted. The woman looked familiar. She turned around and Lucille suddenly recognized her. It was Carol, Mona’s daughter. What on earth was she doing at Mario’s house?

  “Are you coming in or what?” Frankie said, waiting by the door.

  “Sure, sure.”

  “You want something to eat?” Lucille asked as Frankie got settled at the kitchen table.

  “Are you kidding? They starved me in that place. I could go for some bacon and a couple of eggs over easy.”

  Lucille pulled the sheet of paper from her purse and looked it over. Frankie wasn’t going to like it, but he was sticking to his diet. After all, she was sticking to hers, wasn’t she?

  Lucille got busy cracking eggs and frying up bacon.

  “That bacon smells funny.”

  “What, funny?”

  “I don’t know. Are you sure it’s good?”

  “I just bought it,” Lucille said, sliding a plate in front of Frankie.

  He stared at it. “What the hell is that?” He pointed at the dish.

  “That there is an egg white omelet with green peppers and broccoli. The paper says you’ve got to eat five servings of fruits and vegetables a day. And that’s some nice turkey bacon I bought especially for you.”

  “Who ever heard of making bacon out of a turkey? Bacon comes from pigs, for chrissakes. I swear, you’re all trying to starve me.”

  Lucille turned a deaf ear to Frankie’s protests as she filled the coffeemaker and turned it on. When she turned around, she saw Frankie was taking a few tentative bites.

  “How is it?”

  “It’s okay,” he said grudgingly. “How long do I got to stay on this diet?”

  Lucille shook her head. “The paper says it’s not a diet—it’s a way of life. You’re supposed to eat like that from now on.”

  “This is crap,” Frank exploded as he pushed his chair back. “If I have to live like this, I’d rather be dead.”

  Chapter 16

  Lucille scraped the remains of Frankie’s breakfast into the trash, rinsed the plate and put it in the dishwasher. She was still wondering what Carol was doing at Mario’s house. As far as she knew, Mario hadn’t had any visitors in all the time he’d been living next door.

  She was about to get out the sweeper when the phone rang. It was Flo.

  “I have to talk to you.”

  She didn’t sound too good to Lucille. “What about?”

  “Can you meet me for coffee? Dr. Hacker said he could spare me for a few minutes.”

  “Sure, sure.” Lucille looked around. She could tidy up later.

  “Meet me at the Old Glory in fifteen minutes.”

  • • •

  Flo’s red Mustang was pulled up in front of the Old Glory when Lucille got there. Lucille pulled into the empty space next to it and turned off the motor. She wondered what Flo wanted to talk to her about? Did it have something to do with Richie? Maybe Flo had come to her senses?

  Flo was at a table in the back. She waved when Lucille walked in.

  Lucille pulled out the chair opposite and sat down with a sigh. It was only ten thirty and she was already tired.

  She looked across the table at Flo. Flo looked terrible—her hair was in a loose twist that was about to come down, her eyeliner was different on each eye and her lipstick was bitten off.

  “You look terrible, Flo.”

  “Geez, Lucille, you sure know how to make a girl feel good.”

  “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

  Flo hung her head for a second. “It’s Richie.”

  “Something’s wrong with Richie?”

  Just then the waitress glided over to their table.

  Lucille looked at her. “Two coffees, please.”

  “You want a piece of cake or a doughnut?” The waitress held her pencil poised above her pad.

  Lucille shook her head. “The coffees will be fine.”

  The waitress shrugged and walked away.

  “Now, tell me what’s going on with Richie.”

  “I stopped by his place this morning on my way to work. Ever since I heard about him being arrested for stealing that money, I’ve been a complete wreck. I realize I’ve been a fool—Richie’s the one for me. Besides, who am I kidding? I’m getting older, and I’m lucky to have found anyone at all.”

  Lucille had been telling Flo that for months, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Richie looked terrible. He’s always been thin, a little thicker around the waist maybe, but I could see he’d lost weight. His hair wasn’t combed and his condo was . . . a complete mess.” Flo looked up at Lucille with tears in her eyes. “I think he’s having a breakdown.”

  “You’re right—that doesn’t sound like Richie.”

  “Apparently Internal Affairs is conducting an investigation, and he’s on leave until they find out what happened to that money. I know Richie didn’t take it. He wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Lucille agreed.

  “I’ve got to do something, but what?”

  “I think being there for him is the best thing you can do.”

  Flo gave a sob. “But he doesn’t want me. He’s still mad about seeing me out with that . . . that . . . jerky bank manager. I told him there wasn’t nothing to it, but he didn’t believe me.”

  Lucille patted Flo’s hand. “Hang in there. He’ll come around. You two love each other, and you know what they say—love always wins out.”

  • • •

  Lucille had just walked into the house when the front bell rang. Sheesh, she wasn’t going to get nothing done this morning.

  She pulled open the door to find Angela standing on the step.

  “Can I come in, Lucille?”

  “Of course, Angela, come in.”

  They walked out to the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”

  “That would be great.”

  Lucille put on another pot. She wished she had something else to offer Angela. Since she’d been on this here diet, she hadn’t been baking much. It would be nice if she had a coffee cake to put out.

  Lucille poured Angela a cup of coffee but decided to hold off herself. She’d already had two cups and they was beginning to give her that acid indigestion.

  “You look upset,” she said to Angela as she sat down at the table.

  Angela was shredding the paper napkin Lucille had given her.

  “I don’t know what to do, Lucille.”

  Lucille was beginning to think she knew how Father Brennan must feel after taking everyone’s confession.

  “You don’t know what to do about what?”

  “About Gabe.”

  Lucille had been wondering that for a long time. He was a nice kid, but he wasn’t going nowheres. It was time he settled down, married and gave Angela some grandchildren.

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  Angela twisted the remains of the napkin between her fin
gers. “It’s terrible. I don’t know what to do,” she said again.

  Lucille glanced at the clock and sighed. She wanted to get the rugs vacuumed and do a couple of loads of laundry before lunch.

  “You know that raid on that poker game Gabe was part of?” Angela’s face momentarily shone with pride.

  “Yeah.”

  “And the money the cops confiscated from the game?”

  “Yeah?” Lucille wondered where this was leading.

  “Well, it’s missing.” Angela picked up the remains of the shredded napkin and began tearing it into even smaller pieces.

  “I heard. I also heard that—”

  “Richie took it.” Angela swept the shreds of napkin into a pile with the side of her hand.

  “Yeah.”

  Angela screwed up her face and then blew out a huge puff of air, scattering the bits of napkin all over the table. “That’s not true.”

  “Of course not. Everybody knows Richie wouldn’t do something like that.”

  “But there’s this problem, see—” Angela began.

  “Don’t tell me.”

  Angela nodded then gave a loud sniff. She dashed a hand across her eyes and raised her chin. “Gabe was put in charge of the money. It’s called the chain of evidence or something like that.”

  “Yeah, I heard something about that on those cop shows Frankie likes to watch.”

  Angela bit her lip. “Gabe . . . misplaced the money.”

  “What do you mean misplaced? Misplaced as in lost?”

  Angela nodded silently.

  “But they’re blaming Richie for it. They’ve called in investigators and the like. Flo says he’s been put on leave.”

  “I know. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Gabe has to tell them what happened.”

  “He can’t.”

  “Richie’s been arrested, for chrissakes. The only reason he hasn’t gone to jail is because he’s posted bail. Flo says he took a second mortgage on the condo.”

  “But if Gabe tells, he’ll lose his job.”

  “Yeah, but he won’t be going to jail. He can get another job.”

  Angela was already shaking her head. “You know Gabe. What would he do? Besides, he loves police work.”

  Police work? Lucille thought. He directed traffic. She had no idea who had had the bright idea to take him along on this poker game raid, much less put him in charge of the money.

  “But he can’t let Richie take the fall for this. It’s not fair. Richie could go to jail.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Lucille.”

  “You’ve got to go talk to the chief. Explain it to him like. Maybe he’ll go easy on Gabe.”

  “Gabe’s trying to figure out where he put the money. Somewhere safe he said—he just can’t remember.” Angela moved the little pile of napkin shreds around. “He didn’t want to miss any of the action so he took the money outside and put it somewhere where no one would find it so he could go back inside and see what was happening. Only now he can’t find it.”

  “So, it’s got to be somewheres, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “He has to find it then.”

  “How? The fellow who was running the gambling ring is out on bail. He could be dangerous.” Angela’s face shut down. “I’m not letting my baby do anything dangerous, Lucille.”

  Lucille had to laugh. The way people in town drove, Gabe was as likely to be hit by a car as he was by a bullet.

  “I can’t let Richie take the blame for this, Angela. You’ve got to see that. It wouldn’t be fair to him, and it wouldn’t be fair to Flo. She’s out of her mind with worry over this and so’s Richie. She said he looks terrible—like he’s going to have a breakdown or something.”

  Angela’s expression hardened. “But Gabe’s family, Lucille. Don’t go forgetting that.”

  Angela had a point. Lucille tried to think. What could she do? She wished Angela hadn’t told her this. It was like her sister to dump something on her and expect her to fix it. She was between a rock and a hard roll.

  “I know.” Lucille snapped her fingers. “What if we go look for the money ourselves?”

  “Us?” Angela looked doubtful. “I don’t know. I’m not adventurous like you are, Lucille.”

  Lucille thought some more. This was exactly the kind of thing Flo would be up for. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Flo had as much at stake here as Angela did. She’d give her a call as soon as Angela left.

  • • •

  Lucille finally got around to vacuuming the carpets. She threw some laundry into the wash, too. Frankie had insisted on going to the office to work on the books, although he’d promised that he wouldn’t do anything more strenuous than lift his coffee mug to his mouth. Lucille had packed him a turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread, some carrot sticks and an apple for dessert. Frankie had scowled at the brown paper bag, but Lucille insisted he take it with him, otherwise she knew he’d be sending Tony out to get him a sub or a couple of calzones.

  Lucille’s mind was so busy it kept tripping over itself—Frankie’s health, seeing Carol visiting Mario next door, Bernadette and Benny and now Gabe and the missing money. She needed something to calm her nerves. A nice piece of pie would do it. Like a coconut custard or Boston cream. It was a shame the Italians and Greeks didn’t eat pie. They sure didn’t know what they was missing.

  Lucille was putting the Hoover away when the phone rang. Who could be calling at this hour? Maybe Frankie? Had something happened?

  She rushed to the phone, nearly slipping on the throw rug between the dining room and the kitchen.

  “Hello?”

  “Lucille, it’s me, Ma. What’s the matter? You sound all out of breath.”

  “Nothing, Ma, nothing. How are you?”

  “I got a small problem.”

  “How small?”

  “Okay, maybe it’s not as small as all that.”

  Lucille sighed. What now?

  “You know that little diversion I threw for you and Flo the other day?”

  “Yeah. You went a little overboard, don’t you think?”

  “I was only trying to help.” Her mother sounded a little testy.

  “I know, I know. And I appreciate it.”

  “It seems it kind of pissed off old prune face.”

  “Who?”

  “The administrator.”

  “Oh. Maybe you can say you’re sorry like.”

  “It’s too late for that.”

  Lucille felt the inside of her mouth dry up. “What do you mean by too late?”

  “They’re throwing me out of New Beginnings.”

  “They can’t do that.”

  “Looks like they can. They’ve arranged for the moving van to come tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Where are you going to go?” Lucille asked, even though she already knew the answer.

  “I told them to take the stuff to your house. You’ve got that empty room downstairs.”

  This wasn’t going to do Frankie’s heart no good, Lucille thought. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

  She’d better get downstairs and change the sheets again.

  • • •

  Lucille was waiting when Flo pulled up to the house. Lucille had had no trouble talking her into going over to Vin’s house to see if they could find where it was that Gabe had hidden the poker game money.

  Fortunately it was getting dark early now, so hopefully no one would see them. Lucille had put on a pair of black sweatpants and a black sweater so she wouldn’t be too visible.

  Bernadette got home from picking Lucy up at day care as Lucille was standing by the front door, peering through the glass panels alongside.

  “Somebody die?” she asked, looking at Lucille’s all black ensemble.

  She had some nerve, Lucille thought, remembering Bernadette’s goth phase when she even painted her fingernails black. It had nearly driven Frank crazy—he liked to see a woman in some color.

 
Flo honked the horn.

  “I’m going out,” Lucille called after Bernadette, who was on her way upstairs to change Lucy’s diaper.

  Bernadette turned around at the top of the stairs with Lucy in her arms. “Are you coming back?”

  “No, I’m moving to Florida. Of course I’m coming back.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “I’ve got some chicken cutlets in the fridge. I was planning on chicken parmigiana. Maybe you can get it started for me.”

  “But what about Lucy?”

  “What about her? Put her in that bouncy chair with all the bells and whistles. She’ll entertain herself, you’ll see.”

  Bernadette didn’t look convinced. What was she going to do when she and Tony had their own place and she had to prepare dinner every night? They were both so anxious to move out, but they didn’t know how good they had it. Lucille and Frankie had managed—so would they.

  Lucille dashed out the door before Bernadette could say anything and jumped into Flo’s Mustang. She glanced at Flo in dismay. Flo had on a hot pink quilted jacket with fake white fur around the collar and cuffs.

  “Don’t you think you’re going to be a little obvious in that jacket?”

  “I didn’t know we were going to go crawling around somebody’s backyard when I got dressed this morning, did I?”

  Lucille grunted.

  Lucille had looked up Vin’s address. He lived in a split level in a development off Springfield Avenue. Flo turned right onto his street, and they began scanning house numbers.

  “There it is,” Flo said, pointing to a house painted a pale green.

  “Don’t park here. We don’t want no one to see the car. Pull around the corner there.” Lucille pointed to a street to the left. Why couldn’t Flo have bought a car in a nice dull color like brown or black?

  Flo continued past the house, made the turn and pulled up to the curb two houses down from the corner.

  “This good enough for you?”

  “Yeah.” Lucille opened her door. “Now keep your fingers crossed we find the dough.”

  “If we don’t, you’re going to have to tell the chief what Angela told you—about Gabe losing the money.”

  Lucille knew that was the right thing to do, but she couldn’t see herself turning on family like that. Maybe she’d talk to Father Brennan about it and get his advice.