Cold Moon Dead (24 page)

“This is awful. I shouldn’t have burdened you with my problems, Lavinia.”

“It’s okay, Mom. Really, I would rather have you come here than go anywhere else. C’mon, the coffee is ready. There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet. Go brush your teeth.”

She nodded, heading into the bathroom. A knock on the door preceded Marcus’s voice asking to be let in.

“Lavinia, this place is like Fort Knox. Why do you keep everything locked up so?” my mother asked.

“Just precautionary measures, Mom. You can’t be too careful these days.” I opened the door for Marcus to enter.

The look of surprise quickly disappeared while Marcus took in the appearance of my mother. With his most charming smile, he slid his eyes to me in question. I shrugged.

“Marcus, it is so good to see you. Please excuse me for a moment.” My mother held her fingers over her mouth as she scooted back into the bathroom.

A wide grin covered my face at the look of disbelief on Marcus’s features. His unvoiced questions hung in the air. He gazed around the room, taking in the bedroom, the wine glasses in the sink, and the corked bottle on the counter.

“What the hell is this about?” Marcus whispered.

“She left my father and came here for the night. She’d had quite a bit to drink by the time she arrived,” I whispered back.

“How about some of that wonderful coffee?” Marcus said out loud and noisily dragged a chair away from the counter.

I smiled at his cover-up and poured mugs of coffee.

“Why did she leave your father?”

“She hasn’t said, at least nothing that makes any sense, anyway.” This could get sticky, I thought.

“Last night, when you said they were having problems . . . well I admit I found that hard to believe. But now . . . I’m just surprised. Your mother is one of the sweetest women I know, and in a marriage I thought would withstand all time. I don’t understand.” He sipped from his mug as the bathroom door swung open and my mother joined him at the counter.

Mom added two teaspoons of sugar and a dribble of milk, and then sipped the strong brew. I gulped mine, scalding my tongue and throat while Marcus sipped his calmly, with total appreciation. None of us uttered a sound.

The outer door banged open and another knock on the door preceded Lola, who flounced into the house. Her huge brown eyes settled on my mother, Marcus, and then on me. She smiled the Julia smile and my mother chuckled.

“Hey, Mrs. E., how are you?” Lola said with a kiss to my mother’s cheek.

“I’m fine, Lola, and how are you this chilly morning?”

“Great, just great. What’s going on here?” Her eyes roamed the counter before landing on the coffee pot.

A bag of pastry hit the counter as Lola slid onto a chair. I poured her a cup of coffee before I opened the bag. I sniffed with pleasure. Ah—the heavenly smell of fruit baked inside a butter croissant.
Mmm.

Pastry tumbled onto the plate as I upended the bag. Marcus pulled the plate toward him, peering at the croissants. He lifted one covered with a light sugar glaze, took a huge bite, and then licked his fingertips.

My mother, who clearly had a hangover, stared at the food while she turned a bit green around the edges. Shaking her head ‘no,’ she handed the plate to me.

I smiled, took a pastry, and passed the dish on to Lola who politely refused while she drank her coffee.

“What brings you here?” I asked Lola.

“Thought I’d stop by and see how dinner with your father went?”

Well shit. This would be uncomfortable.

“We had a nice dinner. That’s all.”

My mother glared, Marcus caught the look, and Lola simply nodded wisely. It was clear she realized there were issues I couldn’t talk about. She had lived in an Italian family all her life, so no explanation was needed.

It suddenly occurred to me that things could only get worse if my father showed up. But since Jabroni was a houseguest, the likelihood of Dad appearing was nil. We all have to be thankful for the little things in life.

The conversation remained a bit stilted since no one wanted to ask personal questions or refer to the fact that my mother had slept over for the night. Try as I might, I just couldn’t fathom why my mother had taken it into her head to drive here. Maybe the alcohol she had consumed was part of the answer, but I knew there was more to it.

Eventually, the conversation came to a dead stop. Picking up her jacket and purse, Lola said she had to leave. Marcus followed suit, with a promise to call me later.

As the outer door closed, I sighed with relief and turned to my mother. Sipping her cold coffee, she refused to look me in the face. Across from her, I waited in silence.

Dark eyes met mine and I saw how sad she was. My heart squeezed tight to see my mother this way. I reached a hand out and held hers gently.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at me. I took a deep breath.

Mom sniffed, wiped her tears away and said, “I’m going home to get things straightened out with your father. He will move that man out of our house today and that’s final.”

There wasn’t enough money in the world to pay me to witness that showdown. I hoped my mother wouldn’t ask me to give her moral support.

“Mom, it’s not what you think. Mr. Jabroni only needed a place to stay so he could keep an eye on his wife.”

“You aren’t making any sense, Lavinia.”

It took a good half hour, but I finally told her the story about Jabroni, my car theft, and the stabbing. Jabroni couldn’t go home if he wanted to stay alive for long.

“So you think I am wrong to make him leave my home? A man that disreputable should make himself comfortable at my expense?”

“It isn’t as though he expects you to be his maid. He simply needs to get his strength back. A few days of rest at your house will help him do that.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking, Lavinia. You really don’t.”

I could see anger and despair in her eyes. Now was the time to ask the question that had been eating away at me.

“Why do you dislike Jabroni so much? Has he ever hurt you?”

“I don’t want to discuss it.” She started to move away from the counter.

“Not so fast.” I stopped her with a hand covering hers. “You need to tell me what’s bothering you about this man and his lifestyle . . . other than the fact that he’s a common gangster.”

A hefty sigh issued from her as she leaned on the counter.

“Years ago, when your uncle Benny was killed, he’d been running numbers for the mob. He wanted to get out of the business. You know how hard that is, don’t you? Once you’re in, you’re in. There’s rarely any chance of turning back from that life.”

Mom left the chair and made a fresh pot of coffee. Moving around the kitchen, she told me about Benny’s downfall. He’d gotten greedy and had started skimming off the top of the profits as part of his retirement plan. Jabroni wasn’t in power at the time, but was fast moving up through the ranks. As a
soldato
, a soldier for the mob, Jabroni had been assigned to teach Benny how to keep his hands off the money. Just teach him a lesson. I listened, fascinated by the story and the matter of fact way my mother told it.

“So what did Jabroni do to Benny?”

“Instead of teaching him a lesson, which meant you got your fingers smashed, or your hands broken—he killed him.”

“How did that happen?”

“I’m really not sure. I just know it was Jabroni’s fault that Benny died.”

“I’m not defending Jabroni, but if you don’t know exactly how Uncle Benny died, then maybe you shouldn’t blame him for it. You need all the facts before you make assumptions like that.”

Her eyes grew fierce as she stared at me. I knew I was about to get a taste of her temper. I really hate when that happens.

“Lavinia Esposito, you sound just like your father. I should have known you would side with him and defend that awful man.” Her voice shook.

“I’m not taking sides or defending anyone. I’m merely stating the facts,” I said. “Look, I tell my students to make sure they ferret out the facts before reaching a conclusion. It’s all about evidence, not about assumptions. It doesn’t make sense to me when you say he killed Benny if there’s no proof.”

Her eyes wavered and she turned toward the French doors. Her shoulders slumped as she thought about what I’d said. After a few long minutes, my mother turned back and nodded.

“Maybe you’re right. All these years I’ve blamed Jabroni without finding out the facts as you said. I just know he is a bad, bad, bad man—his crimes are well known. As a
soldato,
he was formidable and that hasn’t changed.”

“Mom, talk to Dad. Maybe he can shed some light on the matter. Besides that, Dad must be a wreck worrying about you.”

She nodded. “It’s time for me to go home and get this straightened out once and for all. You don’t need to come with me. I’m capable of handling this by myself.”

Thankful for small miracles, I hugged my mother and watched her get ready to leave. When her car started down the street, I waved and rushed inside to get out of the cold wind.

My father answered the phone after the second ring.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Lavinia, is your mother with you? I’ve been calling everywhere and was about to call you.”

“Mom is on her way home. She needs to talk to you. This is your chance to get this Benny incident straightened out. She’s very determined to talk about it, so do your best to oblige her.”

“I will. Is she all right? I didn’t realize she was gone until this morning.”

“She stayed here last night. We discussed the whole Jabroni situation this morning. She knows about the stabbing, the car theft ring, and all that has happened. Be patient and show some understanding, okay?”

“If you think that’s best, then I’ll try. You know, Lavinia, I would never intentionally hurt your mother in any way, but I guess I already have.”

It was surreal to be having this conversation with my father. He had never been a man to open up and share his inner thoughts with me, or anyone else, so far as I knew. For him to act this way was a complete turnabout.

“Work it out, Dad. You and Mom just need to talk things over.”

He mumbled something about calling me later, and then he hung up.

By the time I straightened the house and got ready for the next round of upset that was sure to come my way, it was past noon. I was no closer to figuring out how to get my car back from Mrs. Jabroni, which only served to annoy me. My imagination worked overtime on the scene taking place between my parents.

A walk in the fresh air might help bring about a plan. I wanted to catch the woman red-handed with my car, and have her arrested at the same time. I slipped my jacket and scarf on.

While I searched for my gloves, the phone rang. I answered on the second ring and heard Freedom Banger’s voice.

“Whatcha’ doin’, Vin?”

“I was just leaving. Have you found my car yet?” I asked, lifting a cushion from a chair. My gloves had been stuffed underneath it. How they had ended up there, I could only imagine.

“I’ve got some theories about that and want you to come in and talk to me. I heard you were at the gallery when Jabroni was stabbed, huh?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty, I can tell you that. You know how much I dislike blood.”

A short laugh crossed the line and then Free’s voice became quieter. She almost whispered into the phone.

“Meet me at the bakery on the corner across from the district station. I want to talk to you about Jabroni. I know he’s not dead, Vinnie, and you know it, too.”

“Are you crazy? Of course he’s dead. I saw him get stabbed. I was in the hospital room with him when the doctor said he was dead.” My heart beat so hard, I worried it might jump out of my chest.

“Vinnie, he’s not dead, so just get your ass down here and talk to me. It’s important or I wouldn’t have called. Twenty minutes. Be here.” The line went dead.

The phone rattled as it hit the cradle. My hand shook. I sweated underneath the jacket and scarf. My knees had grown weak.
Dang.

Pacing the room for a few minutes, I realized I had no choice but to go into Providence and meet Free. Curiosity about how she knew all this about Jabroni might have been a major factor in that decision, but I knew I had to go anyway. What she had in mind might be to my advantage, but if she had somehow become convinced that I was involved with Jabroni’s disappearance, then Free would be relentless until she got the truth from me.

After several deep breaths to calm my nerves, I headed toward the district station. On the drive I muttered over and over that everything would be fine. I would simply listen to what Free had to say. No way would I confess to her about Jabroni’s whereabouts or the possibility he had plans to knock off his wife.

The empty police cruiser idled in front of the corner bakery. It wasn’t a traditional bakery, but one that sold a few Italian pastries and lots of calzones, pizza strips, and spinach pies. A fragrant garlic aroma hung in the air as I stepped inside the small shop.

Free turned from the counter, nodded with a half-grin, and then finished paying for her calzone. I stepped over and ordered the same thing. We headed to the cruiser and settled in to eat.

Chewing thoughtfully, I waited for Freedom to speak. The calzones were filled with Italian cold cuts and hot peppers. The smell filled the car as the strong, tangy peppers brought tears to my eyes.

“Damn, these peppers are spicy.” Free’s watery eyes turned toward me and she grinned.

“You didn’t call me down here to talk about the peppers, so get to the point.” Why procrastinate when we both knew it was important to put all the cards on the table.

A cocky smile crossed her face. “Are you nervous or what?”

“Not nervous, more curious than anything else. What’s on your mind?” Hell yeah, I was nervous. Who would come bail my ass out if I got arrested for some imagined crime? I wasn’t the one who’d assisted Jabroni. The doctor and his crew had done that.

“A little bird told me about Jabroni’s escapades at the gallery and hospital. What do you know about it? No lies, please.” Her calzone was gone. Free crumpled the paper it had been wrapped in. She guzzled water from the bottle, and then tucked it back in the console of the car.