Dead Wrong (11 page)

Through the window, Marcus watched me approach the car. When I stood outside, he rolled the window down.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I have to go to the medical examiner's office with the detectives. Don't wait for me. Bellini will arrange a ride home.” I leaned in the window and kissed him.

“Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?”

“No, I'll be all right. Call me later, though, huh?”

“Yeah, I will. Who are you going to see?”

I hesitated, and then said, “Nurse Crisp.”

“For Chrissake, Lavinia. There's a nutball on the loose with a gun and the cops want to make this freak aware of you? Great.” His lips pressed together in a thin line while a muscle twitched in his angry face. He started the car and left the parking lot in pissed-off mode.

The three of us drove across town to the medical examiner's office. We angled into a parking spot outside the building. I was surprised to see numerous cars in the lot. The night crew had arrived with no secretaries, just case workers – the case workers who worked forensics on the bodies. My stomach clenched again. I breathed deep as we left the car park.

At the end of spotless corridors, we strode toward the bright room where stainless steel cabinets lined the walls. In my mind this was way too many times, in as many days, to be here checking out cadavers. Good God.

The door swung inward. Anderson held it open until we'd entered the room. A tall, lean, bald guy, who reminded me of a walking cadaver, greeted Bellini and opened a door midway down the room. He pulled the stainless steel table forward on silent rollers and then proceeded to remove the drape covering the body beneath.

Deep breaths, take deep breaths. I took a breath and held it as I stepped forward. The cloth moved downward. I stared at Nurse Crisp, dead as a doornail. The austere features were more so now that the woman was dead and cold on the slab. The small bullet hole in the center of her forehead was clear of blood, but ugly. Kind of like a bellybutton gone awry.

It only took a second for me to nod and look back at the two detectives. They stepped forward. Anderson took my arm and we moved toward the exit. I guess I must have been white as the sheet that draped Crisp. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a bench. Bellini handed me a paper cup of water.

The cold liquid slid down my throat. I glanced at the two guys and tried to smile in an effort to show them I was fine. Instead, I choked on the next sip of water and nearly croaked on the spot. Gasping for deep breaths of air, my eyes teamed with tears and ran a river down my face. Dang, I hate when that happens.

Finally, I managed to get control of my breathing and stood up. Escape from the morgue and the dead folks, was uppermost in my mind. The detectives got the message and we hustled along the silent corridors. Whoever worked there, did so behind closed doors.

Chapter 14

The ride home in a clearly marked police cruiser was the last thing I'd expected. My neighbors were sure to talk. Soon the town would be rampant with gossip over the fact I'd arrived home escorted by the cops. At the least this was another affirmation: my life was never mundane. We all need to thank the Big Guy in the sky for the little things.

Once in the house, I roamed around turning on lights and then started the gas fireplace. A cold November wind rattled windowpanes and howled around the eaves of the house. The temperature had dropped and snow seemed a likely possibility.

The goody bag from my mother had been set in front of the kitchen door. I realized Marcus had dropped it off. He could have kept it. I'd never have known until mealtime rolled around.

Unable to relax, I poured a glass of wine and picked up the sketch pad in the living room. Settling in front of the fireplace, I turned on soft music and flipped the sketchbook pages to stare at the illustrations. Questions flooded my overactive mind while I leaned back and sipped the sweet beverage.

What was the purpose of killing those three people? Was it the fact that they were connected to one another through the clinic and health center? Who was behind the killings? I'd never seen another person and couldn't imagine these three as a fraud ring of any sort. They didn't seem smart enough for that. Though, perhaps they were involved in medical fraud. They'd fooled me into believing I'd suffered a grievous injury cured only by torture – in the form of physical therapy.

The pad slipped from my knees. I picked it up and tossed it aside. My thoughts turned to Giovanni and stolen artwork. Another situation I wanted to avoid, with no hope of doing so. I rose and went toward the phone. The address book lay close by. I found the listing for Lena and Nate. I punched in the number, waiting as the phone rang on the other end.

A decrepit voice answered as my eyes fluttered toward the clock on the desk. It was still early, so I shouldn't feel guilty for waking an old woman.

“Hello?” her voice creaked out the word.

“Hello Auntie, how are you? This is Lavinia, your niece.”

A brief silence met my statement before she cleared her throat and said, “Whaddaya want, Lavinia?”

“My mother and I are concerned for you. I wanted to apologize for my behavior at the funeral home during Great Uncle Nate's showing. I'm sorry if I caused you any added grief.” I fibbed. “I wondered if I might stop by tomorrow to visit with you for a short time?”

“You never came by much in the past. Whaddaya wanna come by for now?”

The woman was brutally outspoken and rude, I'd give her that much. But I had a mission and refused to fail.

“It's just that Great Uncle Nate meant so much to us. I thought maybe it would help me get over his death if I could come by to visit with you for a while. I'm sure you must realize how much a part of our lives he was.”

Yeah, right. We'd tried to avoid the man whenever possible in public, but I must admit we'd had some good times with him at family gatherings. Nate was a thief, but not a bad guy. It's a confusing statement, but true nonetheless. If anyone was in need of a shirt, Great Uncle Nate would offer his. There was only the worry about who he'd stolen it from and if they would come after it.

A sigh crossed the phone line. I heard her mumble something under her breath. It sounded like ‘freakin' relatives', but I wasn't sure.

“Come by around four. We'll have a cup of tea and a light snack. You remember the address, don't you?”

“Indeed I do. You still live in the blue house on Magnolia Street, in Dean Estates, right?” The Edwardian house was gargantuan. Why she lived there alone was beyond me. Though, if I had her money, I'd probably consider it as well.

“Yes, I do. I'll see you at four. Don't be late.” The line went dead.

I placed the receiver in its cradle then picked it up once again and dialed my mom's house. Giovanni answered the call on the first ring. I guessed he'd been sitting waiting for me to call.

“Gio, it's me. I've been invited to Lena's tomorrow at four for tea. If this woman poisons me, I'm gonna hunt you down, understand? You owe me, big time.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I spoke with Jill tonight. She has suggested a separation until we can get things straightened out.”

Yikes, did that mean my brother, Saint Doctor Giovanni Esposito, would move back to Rhode Island? Please God, I won't lie by omission anymore, I prayed silently. I love my brother, but….

“You're kidding, right?” I asked, and hoped he was.

“No, she's downright serious. I have to wonder if she's been doing more than holding art for Great Uncle Nate. You wouldn't happen to know anyone who has connections to the underworld of fencing stolen art would you?”

That was more than I could handle. I held the phone away from my ear and banged it on the desk top a few times.

“Oops, sorry. I dropped the phone. Did you say something?” I asked.

“No, nothing,” he said and made a mournful sigh.

This whipped-dog attitude of Gio's was circling my last nerve and I snapped at him.

“Giovanni, smarten up for Chrissake. You have a wife who's been involved with a cat burglar. What are you thinking? She's in this up to her violet eyeballs and you'd better cut her loose as soon as possible or you'll hang with her. You know about guilt by association? Duh?”

“Wait a minute here,” he said. “This is America – you don't have to prove your innocence.”

“Not in a perfect world, but reality is not that pristine. I told you, people are looking into your business. It doesn't take much for something to be misconstrued and before you know it, you're up the river hanging out with Bubba the Bumboy.”

“Vin, you've been hanging around with the cops too much. You're as crude as they are.”

“No, this is a reality check … and you'd better listen to what I'm telling you,” I remarked. He'd been out in the cornfields of Nebraska too damned long. His quick wit and natural acuity had diminished over time and now I was left with Giovanni the Stupid-o. God help me.

“Fine. If you think I should wake up, then I will,” he said, his voice rising. “I simply find it almost impossible to believe I've been married to this woman for so long and still do not know everything about her and our lives.”

“Don't put the blame on your shoulders, Gio. She's a big girl who knew what she was getting into. By the way, to add more to the story, she has a couple additional pieces of artwork sitting up in the loft. I found them after you left the other day, but didn't have the heart to tell you.”

“Oh, but you tell me now though. Right? When I'm down, you're gonna kick me. Right?” He sputtered angrily into the phone.

Anger rolled through my system. “I don't know how this became my fault or my responsibility, but you better smarten up or I'm gonna kick your ass so hard, you won't need a ticket for the airline ‘cause you'll be airborne and land on your ass in the cornfields of Nebraska.” My hand on my hip, I yelled at my brother with an attitude the size of Montana.

Silence filtered through the line for a few moments and then Giovanni sighed.

“I'm sorry. I'm a bit overwhelmed, is all. I've got to go, I have an early lecture tomorrow and I've volunteered to introduce the speaker. Stay in touch, okay?”

My temper was still close to the surface. I choked it down. “Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night and we'll talk?”

“Sure, what time?”

“Around six ought to do it. I'm sure I'll be done with Lena by then.”

“See you then,” he said, and hung up.

The phone clicked into the charger as it slid from my hand. I wandered back into the kitchen with the glass and replenished my wine.

Once in the living room again, I stretched out on the sofa. Relaxation didn't come and I felt wired to the gills. The things we do for family, I thought with chagrin.

Chapter 15

Warmth from the fireplace permeated the room as I opened my eyes. The empty wineglass lay clutched to my breast. Grey light poured through the windows and a wild wind continued to hurl itself against the house. I glanced at my watch. I would be late for class if I didn't get moving. No time to shower, just enough time for a quick wash.

The car roared down the road. I passed everyone who got in the way. Cars pulled into the slowest lane when I moved close behind them, a heavy foot on the gas pedal. Route 95 teamed with traffic as I entered the morning rush. It took serious maneuvering to get across the lanes of the Interstate 195 heading east, but I managed it. Horns honked and middle fingers flipped me off when I crowded into spaces between cars to get where I needed to go.

Onward, across the George Washington Bridge, I raced. I was as exhilarated as always when speeding. The traffic never slowed. I weaved in and out of the lanes to make as much headway as possible. The clock ticked and the students waited. That was when I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the same car that had kept pace with me from the onramp of Rte. 6, about fifteen miles back.

I glanced at the vehicles around me. Tractor-trailers loaded with goods, cement trucks with their barrels in mix mode, and cars of every kind rumbled along in the lanes. I slowed a bit and the car behind me slowed. I repeated the action and dropped down to fifty miles per hour. The other vehicle did the same.

In Rhode Island, when a person drops their speed to what might be considered slow, there's a lot of horn blowing accompanied by rude gestures and yelling from other drivers. The offended parties then zoom past in a fit of rage, gesturing again and yelling some more. This car did none of that, but maintained its place.

Sweat gathered in my armpits and rolled down my body. I'd had an accident on the way to the university a couple months before and nearly ended up dead. The vehicle that caused the accident had belonged to a man I'd managed to send to the Adult Correctional Facility. He probably roomed with a big dude named Bubba.

My nerves tightened and my foot slammed the gas pedal as I made for a break in the traffic.

Near the exit to the university, I slid across three lanes and onto the off ramp. My glance darted to the mirror again, only to see the vehicle still in pursuit. I slowed to take the curve and caught the license plate number.

I rummaged around for the cell phone in the bottom of my handbag. My thumb hit the speed dial button for Marcus and I listened while the phone rang.

“Trooper Richmond.”

The rich tone reached my ear. I started to speak, only to hear the call cut in and out.

“Marcus, take this number down. I'm being followed by a car.” The make, model, and license plate number of the vehicle rattled off my lips as fast as I could say them. I wasn't sure if he got all the words, but hoped so.

“Where are you?” he asked in a calm voice.

“Nearly at the university.” My forehead was moist and sweat dribbled down the back of my neck from under my hairline. How could he be so cool?

“Got it. I'll take care of this. Just get to class and don't leave the building alone. Understand?”

“Right.” I disconnected.

A few minutes later, I approached the grounds of the school on my right and flipped my directional signal to take the turn. The car behind me sped past. Before I lost sight of the main drag, a grey State Police cruiser followed it with lights flashing.

Slowing to a stop, I parked as close to the door as I could and locked the car before scurrying across the lot. Anderson and Dario waited outside, lounging against the wall in conversation.

Dario glanced in my direction – a half-grin curled the corner of his mouth.

“Mornin' teach. Kinda late, aren't ya?” he said with an exaggerated glance at his watch.

I glanced at my watch and realized I'd managed to be late after all. With a grin and a deep breath, I nodded and opened the door.

“Everything all right, Vin?” Anderson whispered as he entered the classroom behind me.

“Good morning everyone,” I said, and nodded to Porter as he walked toward his seat.

Greetings rounded the room and questions arose over the assignment. Class time passed with heated discussions over the right way to run an investigation. I allowed the class to hold the floor until things got a bit out of control. It was then that I brought everyone around to the importance of gathering evidence from a contaminated crime scene. Class dismissed, I tossed my belongings into the soft-sided, leather briefcase.

The door closed and I realized everyone was gone, but me. Outside, I glanced up and down the corridor, but even Dario and Porter had disappeared. My gut tightened as I mentally brushed the dust off the self-defense techniques I'd learned last year.

It wasn't until I'd nearly reached the front entrance that I saw Dario and Porter outside with Marcus. Relief flooded me, and my knees weakened. They laughed over something, but glanced around at the same time. On guard against someone, perhaps. I wondered.

“Hi Vin.” Marcus greeted me with a grin and a peck on the cheek as I walked through the doors.

My glance skittered to the two PPD cops and I asked if they had waited for any special reason. They both grinned, avoiding the obvious – that they waited for me. My very own bodyguards. Wow.

“Are you ready to go?” Marcus's warm voice asked as his hazel green gaze slid over my face.

“Yes, indeed.” I turned to thank the two cops. A smile and a few remarks about ‘payment for favors' were muttered as I walked away with Marcus.

His strong fingers wrapped around my arm as we strolled to the car. My injury had all but disappeared. I knew my brother, Saint Doctor Giovanni, had been correct in his diagnosis. It had been weeks since I'd felt this pain-free.

“You stopped the car that was behind me, didn't you?” I asked.

“It wasn't me. Another trooper was in your area. The driver lives down the road from here. There's no reason to suspect you were in any danger from her.”

“Oh, I could have sworn that I was tailed. She followed me from the on ramp at the Route 6 Connector. When I slowed, she slowed and this kept up until I came onto the school grounds.”

“Are you paranoid because there have been three murders which involved people you dealt with on a regular basis?” Curiosity and maybe some concern filled his eyes as he stared into mine.

“No.” I denied that. “But that accident I had a while back … now I get nervous when I'm followed.”

“Sure. I understand you could feel that way. Let me say this … nobody will hurt you as long as I can prevent it. Now get in the car and go home. Straight home. Understand?”

I considered his words for a few moments, staring at his handsome features.

“Marcus, if I'm not under any threat, why do I need to go straight home?”

“Because you are a disaster magnet and I want to make sure you're safe. That's the only reason. I promise.”

“Right. Well, my brother will be over for dinner tonight, so you won't have to worry about me. Okay?” I leaned in and kissed him soundly. His fingers tightened on my arms as he drew me closer.

“You drive me nuts. You know that don't you?” he murmured against my lips.

“Mmm, I know.” A wide grin on my face, I entered the car and left the grounds.

Marcus's gray cruiser followed me into Providence, but turned off at the South Main Street Exit. There were odds and ends I needed at the market so I stopped to get them.

Before leaving the car, my gaze roamed the market parking lot in search of anything out of the ordinary. All looked the same as usual. I scurried into the market.

Up and down the aisles, I strode with purpose. After I'd tossed this and that into the basket, I ended up at the checkout counter to pay for the goods.

“Hey Vinnie, how are you?”

I turned to stare into the face of Ima Gozinta, her uniform trim and neat, as was her braided hair.

“Hi, Ima. Surprised to see you here.” My glance took in the deli sandwiches in her hands. Lunch, I guessed.

“Yeah, I stopped to get lunch for Marcus and then I'm back on the road. Did you enjoy your visit Sunday? My stepfather thinks you're the bomb,” she said with a grin.

Yeah. It was as enjoyable as a toothache.

“It was a pleasure to meet the family,” I lied. It's true. I'd head straight to hell, especially after I broke my promise to the Almighty. It had been a pleasure to meet Bradley … but the wife and Ima, I could do without. I wasn't jealous or anything, though. And to think she would have lunch with Marcus and he'd never mentioned it. Hmm. I wondered why he hadn't told me about their luncheon engagement.

The line moved ahead quickly. I stepped up to the clerk and watched as she rang in the groceries. Swiping the ATM card through the machine, I punched in my pin number and left the store with a nod to Gozinta.

Once home, I slapped together a casserole, popped it into the oven and set the timer. Two hours remained before Lena's visit. I'd heard the Yukon pull into the driveway and knew Aaron was home. Leaving my apartment door open, I slowly climbed to the second floor without applying undue pressure to my knee.

At the top of the stairs, the door swung wide. I chuckled at the arched eyebrows and smile on the handsome face.

“Guess you heard me, huh?”

“Indeed. You aren't one for the quiet approach, are you?” He stepped aside so I could enter the cheerful kitchen. Coffee perked and the smell drew me toward the counter.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Beautiful?” he asked, a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

“Have you heard that Nurse Crisp was found?” I asked and watched him closely.

“No. I've been in the field all day and haven't retrieved my messages. Tell me what happened.” He poured two cups of the aromatic brew and slid the milk and sugar across the counter.

It didn't take long to explain the dead body and how I'd had to identify her remains.

“You get all the fun, don't you?” He smirked. “How did Marcus take the news when you told him what happened?”

“He was less than amused and grumbled about the whole ordeal. You have to do what you have to do, right? I felt it was my duty to give the PPD a hand.”

“You were curious and had to satisfy that need to know thing you have going on. Let's be honest.” He grinned.

“Yeah, you're right I suppose.” I smiled and sipped the coffee. Then I asked what he'd been doing in the field.

“I'm just interested in a line on the art theft business. I've considered the options and wondered if Lena would grant me an interview. We've had her under surveillance for some time, but she's maintained a low profile since the funeral.” He toyed with the spoon and then stared into my eyes.

Dang, here it comes.

“You wouldn't want to give me a hand with this, would you, Vin?” His voice was so soft and quiet … maybe I'd imagined the question.
Fat chance of that.

“She is my great aunt, you know.”

The coffee pot sat nearby. I refilled my cup and poured more into his. There I was, buying time again.

“I wouldn't ask you to turn her in if she was an accomplice. I simply need you to drop by and check things out for me. If you happen upon any information that I might find useful then tell me, if not that's fine. You might ask her if she'd speak to an agent.” His dark eyebrows arched as he spoke, but his warm brown eyes mesmerized me. Who could refuse a man like this?

“As it so happens, I've been invited to tea with her this afternoon.” I checked my watch to see how much time had elapsed and then opened the door to the hallway to listen for the oven timer.

He watched these actions with a smirk and then raised his brows in question when I turned back toward him.

“My brother arrives for dinner around six. I have a timer on for the casserole in the oven.” I chuckled at the way he rolled his eyes at me.

“Multi-tasking again. Is that it? Well, will you help me or not?”

“Right. I guess if I come across anything of interest, I might share it with you. However, Lena probably doesn't know about Nate's light-fingered business, so don't get your hopes up.”

The wide smile showed even teeth, perfect and white against his tanned skin. Though his color had faded from the summer.

I heard the timer go off. With a quick salute, I headed downstairs to rescue the casserole before it burned to a crisp. Cooking was second nature, though I rarely did any. Why bother when my mother fed me almost all the time and Lola cooked for the remainder of it?