Murder on Memory Lake

by J. D. Griffo

  God must really be a comedian, Alberta thought, a regular Don Rickles, because no one else in the world would’ve brought these two women together in such an everlasting way. Before yesterday, Alberta didn’t care if she ever saw Lucy again, not since the last time their paths crossed, which ironically was at the wake of a mutual relative—Alberta’s sister-in-law’s cousin’s husband’s grandfather and Lucy’s uncle’s brother-in-law’s cousin’s father—but now they were eternally intertwined, forever linked like Lucy and Ethel or Lucy and Charlie Brown, and now, ladies and gentlemen, Lucy and Alberta. It just wasn’t fair.

  Why couldn’t Lucy—the Italian, not the redhead or the cartoon character—have been found dead in somebody else’s lake, on somebody else’s property? Why did she have to end her time on this earth in the one place that Alberta expected would bring her peace and comfort for the rest of her life, the one place she could finally call her own? Why did Lucy have to show up not breathing in Alberta’s own backyard? She really didn’t have to ponder those questions for too long before she knew the answer: Lucy Agostino was a ballbuster.

  Alberta didn’t know if Lucy had a say in the matter, but it was as if God asked her to pick the last place on the planet where she’d like her body to be found and he put her there. Because as much as Alberta didn’t like Lucy, Lucy liked Alberta even less. Why? Alberta had no idea. All she knew was from the moment Lucy laid eyes on Alberta in grammar school, Lucy decided she didn’t like her. It wasn’t a passing phase, it was a lifelong grudge. And no matter what Alberta did, she was never able to change Lucy’s mind.

  In the beginning she tried to ignore her, but that only got Lucy angrier. Then she tried to fight back, but Lucy only fought back harder. As they grew older Alberta tried to appease her and do what her mother always did with her father, calmare la acque—keep the peace—but that only resulted in Lucy calling Alberta weak, donna debole, and, of course, many less respectful names. And while it wasn’t as if Lucy bullied Alberta every single day of her life, it was still a well-known fact to everyone who knew them both that the two just didn’t get along for reasons that were unknown to everyone. It was just accepted that Lucy was oil, Alberta was water, and never the twain should mix. Until now.

  Try as she might to have a nice dinner with her granddaughter, Alberta couldn’t get Lucy’s dead body out of her mind no matter how delicious her chicken cacciatore tasted. And it made sense because she had watched two men place Lucy’s corpse in a body bag, zip it up, and carry it away. Even though she hadn’t seen or sparred with that body in years, it was as if they had carted off a piece of Alberta too. While Alberta sat on a chair at the round, wooden kitchen table that her father had built—one of the few pieces of furniture she brought with her when she moved in—a tiny piece of her was miles away, cuddling up next to Lucy on the metal slab at the morgue that was Lucy’s temporary home. The thought of it made Alberta shudder. Maybe it was because of her age and the fact that she was technically in the final stage of her own life, but as much as Alberta didn’t like Lucy, she hated to think of her all alone in that little compartment. Alberta chuckled to herself. Of course God had a role in all this, how else would He have gotten Alberta to have sympathy for Lucy, if not to make her the one to find the body. Then again, maybe God had nothing to do with it.

  “I bet this is all because Lucy’s still giving me the malocchio!” Alberta declared.

  “The what?”

  “The malocchio . . . the evil eye,” Alberta explained.

  “Oh my God,” Jinx exclaimed with a mouthful of chicken. “I haven’t heard that word in years.”

  “Well it’s always there, the malocchio, and now it all makes sense,” Alberta said. “That’s why I was the one who found Lucy outside my back door. She put the evil eye on my head when she was alive, why not put the malocchio on me from beyond the grave? Destroy my peace and make me be a part of her death for the rest of my life.” Shaking her head, Alberta started to laugh, “Dio mio, that’s just like Lucy.”

  “If you say so, Gram, but I still wonder who killed her,” Jinx mused, then added, “Could you pass the cheese?”

  Startled, Alberta hesitated before handing the bowl of Parmesan to her granddaughter. She wasn’t startled because she found Jinx’s comment inappropriate dinner chatter—coming from a large Italian family she knew that very few topics fell under such a category—she was startled because that thought hadn’t yet popped into her head. She was so consumed with the fact that someone she knew for decades was murdered she never took a second to consider that someone else had to have committed the murder. Because where there’s a murder, there has to be a murderer, and if Alberta knew the murder victim, maybe she also knew the murder suspect? Unfortunately, since Lucy was not a very likable person, the list of suspects could be quite long.

  “It could be anybody, I guess,” Alberta inferred. “I lost track of her these past years, but she didn’t have a lot of friends when we were younger.”

  Scooping up some gravy with a piece of crunchy semolina bread, Jinx said, “Just because you don’t have a lot of friends, doesn’t mean you have a lot of enemies. Or, you know, just one who hates you enough to kill you.”

  Jinx swallowed and Alberta noticed that her expression had changed. She looked more like the confused teenager who was forced to move to Florida than the confident young woman who had returned to her doorstep. “Grandma, do you really think someone hated her enough to kill her?”

  Clearly the short answer was yes, but Alberta was unwilling to destroy her granddaughter’s innocence. Jinx was no longer a child, but in Alberta’s eyes she would always be a little girl. “I don’t know, lovey,” she hedged. “Let’s leave questions like those for the police to answer.”

  * * *

  “Jinx, I don’t care how many times you ask me, the answer is still going to be no!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so, that’s why!”

  Jinx wasn’t having a conversation with her grandmother or her mother or any member of her family for that matter, she was talking to her boss, Troy Wycknowski, who, like Jinx, had had his very own nickname since the day he was born—Wyck. It was the main reason Wyck hired Jinx on the spot when she interviewed to be a reporter for The Upper Sussex Herald, the county paper for which he served as editor-in-chief. Since they shared a common denominator, having been given nicknames for reasons that were beyond their control, Jinx’s birth and Wyck’s surname, Wyck held a special fondness for Jinx. Even though they had only known each other for a short time, as the father of three boys, he had quickly begun to think of Jinx as the daughter he never had. At the moment, he acknowledged that his adopted daughter was entering her rebellious stage.

  “Come on, Wyck!” Jinx pressed. “This is a no-brainer! There’s been a murder, there’s going to be a murder investigation, and I’m related to an eyewitness.”

  Wyck kept his eyes on his computer screen to maintain an air of indifference, but Jinx knew she was starting to make a dent in his steely demeanor, because his cheeks were getting almost as red as the unruly mop of hair on top of his head. And that only happened when he got excited about a hot story. “Your grandmother actually witnessed the murder?” Wyck asked, a bit more intrigued.

  “Well, no, she didn’t exactly, you know, witness the incident,” Jinx hedged. “But she reported the crime and she knew the victim her entire life.”

  The redness in his cheeks faded and with them, Jinx felt, were her chances to get a byline on a story that was a bit more serious than covering a holiday tree lighting or the local school play. He just had to give her this assignment so she could stop wasting her talents reporting on such lightweight fare, didn’t he? Hadn’t Wyck said that she possessed the qualities necessary to become a savvy investigative reporter? And hadn’t she proven herself to be a quick learner and dedicated employee these past two months on the job?

  “You’ve only been here two months, Jinx! Hell, this is the first real job you’ve ever had,
” Wyck said while continuing to type furiously. “I just can’t hand over a story like this to a neophyte. It isn’t fair to the rest of the team.”

  “But the rest of the team doesn’t have a connection to Lucy like I do!”

  Jinx was completely aware that she had crossed the line from eager cub reporter to petulant child, but she couldn’t stop herself. Ever since she got the idea the other night during dinner with her grandmother—that she could use Lucy’s death to her advantage, to climb the ladder of professional success at work—she had become obsessed. She wasn’t entirely proud of it, but there was nothing else she could think of except working on this case, cracking it, and bringing whoever killed Lucy to justice. And, of course, being awarded some prestigious journalism prize for her objective, yet personal, reporting as a nice bonus.

  Closing his eyes, Wyck breathed deeply through his nose, letting his chest and shoulders fill up with air and rise, then after a few seconds he let them both deflate with the exhale. Wyck went through his routine twice more, then opened his eyes refreshed and ready to end this battle.

  “My final answer is no,” he proclaimed. “I understand that you’re disappointed, but I promise that you will get your chance to shine. For right now, however, I need your spotlight to be focused on other stories. . . like the Tranquility Waterfest.”

  Jinx didn’t need any deep-breathing exercises to help her deflate. Those two words took care of it by themselves. The Tranquility Waterfest was the annual celebration of the lakeside community, and in honor of the town’s centennial this year, the town council was pulling out all the stops to turn this into a real extravaganza. The jaw-dropping activities would include swim races in several categories from beginner to senior citizen, a remote-controlled speedboat obstacle course, scuba-diving lessons, and an exhibition from the state’s one and only professional synchronized swimming team, the Droplettes. However, as far as Jinx was concerned, none of these attractions were nearly as fascinating as the mystery of why Lucy Agostino’s dead body was found floating in Memory Lake.

  Jinx opened her mouth to rebut, but before any words could come out, Wyck spoke first. “And please note that I used the word ‘final.’”

  Case closed, Jinx thought, and so was her career as a real reporter. Hardly the truth, but in that moment it’s how Jinx felt, so she decided to honor it. Later that afternoon, Alberta dragged her off to the morgue to honor another moment—the moment Lucy would be entered into the state’s official registry of deceased persons.

  “Why do you have to identify the body, Gram?” Jinx asked before Alberta had time to buckle up her seatbelt.

  “Because Vinny asked me,” Alberta replied.

  “I know that he asked you, but you’re not the next of kin, you’re just . . . I’m not even sure what you are . . . frenemy?”

  “I think ‘old friend’ sounds nicer,” Alberta said. Jinx recognized the same finality in her tone that Wyck had used earlier, so she didn’t contradict her grandmother. Of course, she had more questions that she asked nonstop on the drive to Saint Clare’s Hospital.

  “So, Lucy’s only daughter lives in California?”

  “Yes, Enza moved to San Francisco, no San Diego, no . . . well she moved someplace that has a San in front of it before she got married,” Alberta remembered. “So she’s been there for almost twenty years, I guess.”

  “And she’s never come back?” Jinx asked.

  “No,” Alberta replied quietly. “Never.”

  Alberta gazed out the car window not really taking in the low-rolling hills that made up a large portion of Tranquility Park, but thinking about her own estranged daughter, Lisa Marie, and that she had more in common with Lucy than just upbringing and nationality. They shared the pain of losing a child.

  “Lucy and Enza had a falling-out, nothing specific that I know of, just a series of things that they couldn’t resolve and so . . .”

  Alberta’s voice trailed off and Jinx, knowing all too well the complicated relationship between her own mother and grandmother, didn’t force the issue, but allowed Alberta to sit in silence next to her all the while incredibly grateful that she didn’t follow the same road her mother took. Where her mother kept her hands firmly in her pockets, Jinx reached out to grab hold of Alberta, and she wasn’t about to let go.

  When she pulled her bright red Chevy Cruze into a spot in the parking lot of Saint Clare’s Hospital, she finally broke the silence, albeit with an all-too-cheery, “We’re here.”

  Vinny was sitting on a bench in front of the hospital waiting for them. He was deep in thought, staring at the ground and holding his policeman’s cap gingerly with two fingers so it swayed slightly in between his knees. With his jet-black hair slicked back to show off his Roman nose, smooth broad face, and square jawline, he looked more like an aging movie star than a soon-to-be-retired chief of police.

  “Sorry to ask you to do this, Alfie, but Enza isn’t going to be able to get to town ’til next week,” Vinny said as the two women approached. “And I didn’t want Lucy to have to wait that long.”

  “I’m sure she appreciates it,” Alberta replied.

  When Vinny finally stood up, Jinx couldn’t help but feel some butterflies in her stomach, because despite his age he really was quite a handsome and very well-preserved hunk of man. She then immediately and silently chastised herself for having carnal thoughts en route to a morgue. Alberta must’ve caught the lecherous look in her granddaughter’s eye, because when she hooked her arm in hers, she leaned over and whispered, “The girls were always crazy about him.”

  But once they entered the ground floor of the hospital, all thoughts about handsome men and schoolgirl crushes were obliterated by the uninviting setting. Inside the morgue they were surrounded by nothing but cold, gray steel. The entire room smelled like it was drenched in bleach-scented sanitizing cleanser that disinfected any romantic scent that may have lingered in the air.

  In one end of the room was an orderly doing double duty as the morgue attendant who had clearly adapted to the environment. He didn’t flinch when they walked into the room because he was wearing old-school earphones, the big and clunky kind sported by disc jockeys in the seventies that had recently made a comeback, and the music he was listening to must have been loud enough to drown out any other sound. He was also glancing at some documents and typing on his computer keyboard so he didn’t notice anyone else was in the room until Vinny tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Luke,” Vinny said loud enough so he could be heard over the music blasting into the orderly’s ears. “You have some company.”

  “Hey Chief, welcome to the Dead Zone.”

  When the orderly looked past Vinny and saw Alberta and Jinx standing behind him, his face grew so pale it looked as if he was about to become the newest resident of the morgue instead of its gatekeeper.

  “Oh my . . . I’m so, so, so, so . . .”

  “We get it, honey, you’re sorry,” Alberta said, trying to help him out.

  “Really, really sorry.”

  “Easy, Luke,” Vinny said. “But seriously, you need to knock it off with that joke before it gets you into real trouble.”

  “Will do, Chief,” Luke said. “Who’re you looking for?”

  “Lucy Agostino.”

  Luke consulted a chart on his desk and replied, “She’s number thirty-two.”

  Without asking for direction, Vinny walked over to the fourth drawer in the center row of the wall on the left side of the room. With his hand on the handle, he turned to Alberta, “Are you ready?”

  “Vinny, I’ve already seen her, this is just a formality.”

  “I know, but . . .”

  “No buts, will you just open it up so we can get this over with?”

  Slowly, Vinny pulled open the drawer to reveal a body covered in a white sheet. All that could be seen were bare feet, the toenails painted with red nail polish that had begun to chip and smear. A tag was tied around the big toe on the right foot that presumably had Lu
cy’s name written on it. Without saying another word, Vinny pulled back the sheet to reveal Lucy’s face, and both Alberta and Jinx immediately understood why Vinny had tried to prepare them.

  “Oh, Lucy,” Alberta gasped, making the sign of the cross and then bringing her gold crucifix to her lips to kiss it.

  The woman on the metal slab resembled the woman they had seen on the banks of the lake, but with her dignity stripped. Her face had gotten puffier and her features slightly overexaggerated, so while her face didn’t look disfigured, it had definitely changed. Her hair, now dry and unstyled, framed her face like a cloud of black smoke highlighted with shards of gray. And most striking of all, the navy blue business suit was gone and there was nothing left to cover up the pale, freckled skin around Lucy’s neck and shoulders. Even if she hated the color, it was better for her to be covered in that than naked with just a thin sheet to cover her body.

  “So just for the record, you can identify this woman?” Vinny asked.

  “Yes, yes, this is Lucy Agostino, I’m sure of it,” Alberta said, nodding her head. She then looked away and waved her hand in front of the drawer, indicating to Vinny that showtime was over.

  “Thank you,” he said, pushing the drawer closed.

  When they walked out, Jinx held onto her grandmother’s arm and Vinny put his hand underneath Alberta’s elbow. They all felt the same instinctive need to make some kind of connection.

  * * *

  Later that night sitting outside on the Adirondack chairs, drinking herbal tea underneath the glow of the moonlight, Alberta and Jinx were about to make an even deeper connection than the one they already shared.

  “Lovey, I know you want to say something,” Alberta said breaking the silence. “So why don’t you just spit it out?”

  “You really do know me so well, don’t you?”

  “What kind of question is that, you’re my granddaughter.”

  Almost blushing, Jinx could feel the love stretch from Alberta’s heart and penetrate her own. “We make a great team, don’t we, Gram?”