Murder on Memory Lake

by J. D. Griffo

  “Like Gina Lollobrigida?” Sloan asked.

  “Yes!” Alberta cried. “But Lola for short because Jinx’s real name is Gina too, and I didn’t want either one of them to be confused.”

  “I know she was the poor man’s Sophia Loren,” Sloan said. “But I always loved Lollobrigida. She was a fine actress, and you, Lola, are a fine feline.”

  Clearing her throat loudly, Helen asked, “Is anyone going to introduce me to Berta’s new friend?”

  “Sorry, Hel,” Alberta said, still laughing. “Sloan, this is my sister Helen, who—and this is kind of funny—actually used to be Sister Helen. She’s a former nun.”

  “Very nice to meet you,” Sloan said. “So, you must know Father Sal.”

  “Unfortunately,” Helen replied dryly.

  Alberta took an unhappy Lola from Sloan’s arms and sat down next to Sloan so she could steer the subject away from ecclesiastical bashing and toward the reason she had invited the librarian over to her home in the middle of a rainstorm. “Did you bring the blueprints?”

  Once again, the ladies cleared the kitchen table to make room for an oversized document to be spread out and examined. At first glance the blueprints were hard to read since they weren’t the originals, but copies that were faded, crinkled, and smudged after so many years of being in storage. Sloan, however, relished having an interested audience, so he embarked on a mini-lecture that brought the slightly damaged Xeroxed copy to life.

  The women listened as he spoke, trying to connect his words to the details he was pointing at on the blueprint and not just watch his long, slender fingers move gracefully over the document, when they finally heard him say something so intriguing that it broke the spell his appearance had over them.

  “A tunnel?” Jinx asked.

  “Yes, for some reason a tunnel was built from the sub-basement of the Wasserman & Speicher building that leads directly into Memory Lake,” Sloan explained. “Probably something to do with the structural soundness of the lake itself or perhaps an escape route.”

  “An escape route?” Joyce asked.

  “Well, the original building was built in the late forties, and Helga and her family barely got out of Germany during World War II,” Sloan explained. “So maybe she thought there’d be another war and she’d need a secret way to escape the Nazis. No one really knows. But according to these blueprints, the tunnel comes out right here.”

  The women shrieked when they saw that the tunnel’s exit was the northernmost part of the lake, exactly the same location where they saw the diver in Joyce’s photo. Sloan didn’t realize why they were so excited, but he was still thrilled that he had found an audience as enthusiastic about Tranquility’s past as he was. Their passion did make him curious, though.

  “A few years ago that opening was closed up permanently after a family of deer got trapped inside. No one even knew it existed, but the town plugged it up,” Sloan continued. “May I ask why you’re so interested in the lake?”

  After a short pause, Helen answered for the group, “We’re just hungry for knowledge.” She shot a devilish glance at her sister and continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Some of us are hungrier than others.”

  The moment Alberta ushered Sloan out the door, Jinx and Joyce giggled like schoolgirls and couldn’t help ribbing Alberta about her new man friend.

  “I used to say this about my Anthony—Calme acque sono profonde,” Joyce said. “But I think it applies to Sloan as well.”

  “You’re right about that,” Helen agreed. “Still waters usually run deep.”

  “Of course, my Ant was quietly running around with other women and cheating on me,” Joyce remembered. “But Sloan appears to be the monogamous type, Alberta, so you shouldn’t worry.”

  Shaking her head good-naturedly, Alberta said, “If you would get your minds out of the gutter, ladies, you’d see that this means the TV Guides really are one big clue showing us where the collection is.”

  “I’m sorry, Gram, my head is still picturing you and Sloan kissing in a tree as well as in the gutter, so I’m not following you.”

  Smiling as she waved a finger at her granddaughter, Alberta explained her hypothesis, “Add them all up. Sea Hunt plus John Wayne plus Mama. If John Wayne went on a sea hunt to remember his mother, where would it lead him?”

  All three answered at the same time, “To Memory Lake!”

  “I think Lucy’s TV Guide collection is at the bottom of Memory Lake,” Alberta shared, proud of her deduction.

  Joyce hated to be the one sticking the pin into Alberta’s happy bubble, but she needed to state the obvious. “Looks like we’ve come to the point where we have to hand this investigation over to Vinny and the police. Unless one of you secretly knows how to deep-sea-dive.”

  Unable to contain her enthusiasm, Jinx shouted, “I do!”

  “Really?” Alberta asked.

  “Well not, you know, technically,” she admitted. “But thanks to covering the Tranquility Waterfest, I know someone who can teach us. What do you say, Gram? Are you ready to tackle yet another new experience?”

  Alberta hesitated only slightly. She had wanted to be a part of her granddaughter’s life and make up for all of those lost years, so she wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to grow even closer to Jinx just because it meant spending some time underwater.

  Throwing her hands up in the air, Alberta shouted, “Why the hell not?”

  CHAPTER 19

  Danari fanno danari.

  At the end of their third scuba-diving lesson, Alberta had already learned that the word “scuba” was an acronym that stood for “self-contained underwater breathing apparatus,” how to balance her breath against the surrounding water pressure, the most effective ways to use her fins to travel in any direction underwater, and most exciting, that she looked two sizes slimmer in her wet suit. She told Jinx that it was like wearing a full-body Spanx, but much more comfortable.

  “I feel like Esther Williams,” Alberta declared as she sat on the side of the pool. “And before you ask me who that is, google her name.”

  “I know who Esther Williams is, Gram,” Jinx replied, hanging onto the pool’s edge, her body still in the water. “Mom and I used to watch old movies all the time.”

  Alberta forced herself to smile to hide her sadness. She was glad that Jinx had fond memories of her mother; she just wished that Jinx’s mother had fond memories of hers. She considered her estrangement with Lisa Marie to be the biggest failure of her life, and as time wore on she grew less and less confident that the fence separating them would be mended. Ah well, she thought, at least she was sharing time with her granddaughter. And using muscles that she never thought she had.

  “Should I be worried that my thighs are burning like they’re on fire?” Alberta asked.

  “It means they’re thanking you for bringing them back to life,” Freddy said.

  “That’s very sweet of them, Freddy,” Alberta replied. “But a nice thank-you card would’ve sufficed.”

  Freddy Frangelico was their scuba-diving instructor, and Alberta thought he looked like a young Clark Gable. He had the wavy black hair, the dimples, the devilish grin, and, most endearing, the large floppy ears. By the way he catered to Jinx’s every need, she could tell, frankly, that he gave a damn.

  “You’re doing great, Mrs. Scaglione,” Freddy announced. “And if it weren’t for Jinx here, you’d be my number one student.”

  Shooting a conspiratorial glance at Jinx, Alberta replied, “I’ll gladly take a backseat to my granddaughter any day, especially if you’re behind the wheel.”

  Underneath the water, Jinx tugged on her grandmother’s foot, and the two women laughed at Alberta’s obvious attempt at matchmaking.

  “I have a break for a few hours, Jinx,” Freddy announced. “Any chance I can take you to lunch?”

  Feeling her heart start to beat a bit faster in her chest, Jinx squeezed Alberta’s foot harder and replied, “Sure, Freddy, I’d like that.”
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br />   Squatting next to Alberta, he extended a hand to Jinx and helped pull her out of the pool. He then proved he was as polite as he was strong. “Mrs. Scaglione, would you like to join us?”

  Alberta didn’t need to see Jinx shake her head behind Freddy’s back while mouthing the word “No” to understand that she should decline the offer. There were some situations that were simply inappropriate for grandmother-granddaughter bonding, and lunch dates were one of them. Plus, she had a time clock to punch.

  “Thank you, but I need to get back to work,” Alberta stated. “I only took a half day off.”

  Ever the gentleman, Freddy replied, “Next time then.”

  “It’s a date,” Alberta said, winking at Jinx.

  Just as she turned to go, Freddy said, “Oh, and tell Denise that we’re doing a brush-up class for certified divers next Saturday. She’s due for some retraining.”

  Did everyone in Tranquility know everyone else? She loved the sense of community—it really was like one big, extended Italian family—but she had to admit that it was disconcerting to know that a person’s private business had no chance of remaining private. It seemed that everyone she met was connected to someone she already knew. The sacrifice of living in a small town, she guessed.

  “Will do, Freddy,” she replied. “You two enjoy your lunch.”

  Back at her desk, she tried to focus on listening to Marion’s dictation tapes and typing his correspondence but was distracted. It wasn’t hard to translate the recording, as his diction was as impeccable as his attire, but it was becoming harder to play the role of his secretary now that she was becoming more successful playing the role of detective. The more she found out about Marion, the less she thought she understood, and worse, the less she respected the man.

  When they first reconnected, she thought he was the sweet, older version of the shy, misunderstood teenager from her past. Despite the fact that she was only in his presence as a ruse, she couldn’t deny that he had unlocked long-dormant feelings and was happily surprised to feel that she might be able to have another shot at romance. It wasn’t entirely Sammy’s fault, but by no stretch of the imagination could her marriage be described as romantic, not even in the early newlywed days. Alberta and Sammy didn’t have a sweeping love affair. They had a marriage, which was imperfect, hard, familiar, and unenvied. Sammy always made Alberta feel like a wife, but Marion had made Alberta feel like a woman. Even though she knew the fantasy of the perfect relationship was an illusion, it was nice to know that she still possessed the vulnerability and curiosity necessary to allow another man the chance to fill the emotional void she felt after Sammy’s death.

  However, after learning more about Marion from her conversations with Denise and from snooping into Beverly’s life, Alberta realized Marion could never be that man. He was far less honorable than she had made him out to be, he seemed to hold an unhealthy fascination with his mother, and now there was the real potential that he was truly dangerous. Whether or not he was involved in Lucy’s murder, he had ties to drug dealers. She couldn’t comprehend how anyone could be involved with those people who hurt so many lives. As she listened to his erudite speaking voice on the tape and watched him in his office methodically mark up a contract, Alberta realized it was all a cover-up.

  A further distraction was the series of text messages she had been receiving from Joyce. The first asked if she was back at work. The second wanted to know when she was leaving work. The third inquired if Marion was still on the premises. Finally, at ten minutes to five, Joyce sent a fourth saying that she was on her way up to meet Alberta, and that Alberta should play along with whatever Joyce said and did.

  Intrigued, Alberta wasn’t sure what game Joyce was playing, but until she arrived she needed to continue playing the game of dutiful secretary. She knocked on Marion’s door but waited to enter until he looked up from the contract he was marking up.

  “Here you go, Marion, all your letters await your signature.”

  Alberta placed the correspondence in the inbox on Marion’s desk and was about to turn to leave when Marion’s question stopped her.

  “Is everything all right, Alberta?”

  She tried desperately to keep her face an impenetrable mask so her true feelings would remain hidden. She was scared that she was getting in over her head, frightened that she was putting herself and her family in danger, and questioning her judgment not to tell Vinny and the police everything she had learned from investigating Lucy’s murder. Was her ego so big that she wanted to solve the mystery herself? Was she so desperate to bond with her granddaughter that she was willing to risk her safety instead of letting the trained professionals do their jobs? And did she feel so guilty because she had found a woman—who she had known her entire life, but never liked—dead in her own backyard that she felt as if she needed to find her murderer to somehow right a wrong? Or had she just misunderstood Marion’s question?

  “I don’t mean to pry, but you said you had a doctor’s appointment this morning,” he added.

  “Oh! My appointment,” Alberta replied, completely forgetting she had lied about needing to see her doctor so she could have a diving lesson. “Yes, yes, it turned out to be nothing at all, just a little gas. I mean indigestion. My granddaughter has been trying out some new recipes and she hasn’t been that successful.”

  “I’m glad to hear it wasn’t anything serious,” Marion said. “You’re becoming quite invaluable around here and, dare I say, an improvement on my last secretary.”

  Alberta wasn’t sure if Marion was using a dead woman’s name in vain or just making an unkind remark about a former girlfriend who flew the coop, but the insinuation that she would take Beverly’s place as possibly something more than his administrative assistant made her uneasy, as if she really was suffering from a bad case of indigestion.

  “And I’m glad you feel it’s working out,” was all she could think of saying.

  Luckily, she didn’t have to say anything further because Marion’s phone rang. She started to dash to her desk to answer the call when Marion beat her to it.

  “Simon, thank you so much for returning my call,” he said, pausing a moment before continuing. “And Antonio, hello, I’m so glad you could join us.”

  Marion placed a hand over the receiver and whispered to Alberta that he was going to leave after this call so she could call it a day as well. She would happily do that, but first she was going to have to deal with Joyce, who was standing at her desk.

  “Hello, Lucy, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  It had been many years since Alberta had seen Joyce dressed up like the powerful businesswoman she once was, so she had to bite her tongue not to tell her how amazing she looked. She was dressed in head-to-toe red and wore a man-tailored jacket that had just enough soft curves to make it look feminine; a tight, straight skirt that landed an inch above her knees; patent leather pumps; and a wide-brimmed hat. Somewhere Alexis Carrington Colby raised a flute of Dom Pérignon in approval.

  “I’m sorry, but . . .” Alberta started.

  “Please, Lucy, let’s not quibble,” Joyce interrupted. “I’ve come here to discuss a business proposition with you and I don’t have a lot of time.”

  In a move that would have made Alexis even prouder, Joyce slammed the silver metal briefcase she was holding onto Alberta’s desk and patted the case with fingertips that had been painted the same shade of red as her outfit. Boy, Alberta thought, Joyce really pays attention to detail.

  Finally understanding that Joyce wanted it to appear as if she thought Alberta was Lucy, she played along. But knowing Marion was undoubtedly listening to her every word while talking on his conference call, she still needed to make herself sound confused.

  “I understand, but if you would let me explain . . .”

  “No buts! I want to buy your TV Guide collection,” Joyce said. “For one hundred thousand dollars.”

  Opening up the briefcase with the easy dexterity of a model from The Price Is R
ight, Joyce revealed that the briefcase was filled with cash. Alberta was so mesmerized by the sight that she didn’t see Joyce tilting her head slightly to the left. Once she did, however, she realized Joyce wanted her to move out of the way so Marion could get an undistracted view of the cash. Walking toward Joyce, Alberta deliberately circled to the left and stood behind her desk. She didn’t have to look sideways to know that Marion would have no trouble seeing the opened briefcase brimming with hundred-dollar bills.

  Alberta had never seen that much cash all at once in her life and assumed the money had to be fake. Then again, Joyce was rich, so she could have made a pit stop at the bank to make a withdrawal. Would she really go so far as to take a hundred grand out of the bank simply to make her plan look legit? Alberta gawked at the money and tried to see if it was from a Monopoly game or if only the first layer was real or if the whole thing was actually one of Joyce’s very lifelike paintings. She couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. From where Marion was sitting he’d think the money was nothing less than cold, hard American currency.

  “So, do we have a deal?” Joyce asked.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken,” Alberta started. “I don’t have any collection and I’m not . . .”

  “Enough!” Joyce cried, slamming the briefcase shut. “I’ll go up to a hundred twenty-five thousand, but that’s my final offer.”

  She then took a business card out of her pocket and handed it to Alberta. Once again, Alberta was impressed with Joyce’s commitment to every detail of her charade. Her maiden name—Joyce Perkins—was stamped on the card with the title Antiques Broker just underneath along with a phone number and e-mail address. In the upper right-hand corner of the card was an embossed symbol of an owl, which Alberta knew was Joyce’s favorite bird.

  “I have a buyer very interested in your collection, but also too, he’s very impatient, so you have forty-eight hours to let me know your decision.”

  The only reason Alberta didn’t laugh out loud at Joyce’s use of the phrase “also too,” which belied her impersonation of a high-powered businesswoman, was that she was startled by the sound of a trumpet. It was someone’s cell phone ringing in the distance, a familiar melody, but it stopped playing before she could recall where she had heard it before.