For Love of Livvy (6 page)

"No, exciting, like a mystery film, you know?"

"Gee Larry, I hadn't quite thought of it in those terms.” I stifled a giggle and thought he was on to something. I'd definitely perked up since the stones had shown up on the steps and now with more gems in the trunk, I was intrigued. Trooper Richmond was a plus, too, as was Aaron.

"Will you turn them over to the trooper or what?"

"Trooper Richmond came by last night after you left. He had questions about Livvy that I couldn't answer, and it brought a keen awareness of unknown things in her life. Anyway, I'll give him a call later about the new find. I need to go visit my mother and have some dinner."

"Give me a call when you have some new information. I have to get ready for my date with my Liz Taylor guy and don't worry, I'll keep you posted."

I smiled and hung up. Larry was a swell friend who deserved happiness, even if it was with a Liz Taylor wannabe.

The phone disconnected in its cradle. I slipped my sneakers on. The trunk squatted on the floor and I lifted one corner to look underneath. There was enough space to stuff the jewel bundle along the inside edge and I did so.
No sense in leaving them laying around for someone to snatch
. Even though it was unlikely that such a thing would happen in the village. I left all else spread over the bed's surface.

The door clicked behind me as I left and headed to Cranston. My mother always had a scrumptious menu and I was starved. The day had been long and I hadn't eaten since breakfast. My parents didn't consider it an imposition to share a meal with me, so I was happy.

Livvy's aged Volvo spluttered and rambled through the countryside. I drove past pine treed acreage owned by the City of Providence that bordered the Scituate Reservoir. With the car windows open, the smell wafted in and refreshed the interior of the stodgy old wreck.

My parents have lived in Cranston since they got married a million years ago. They own a neat, three bedroom house tucked in behind Cranston Stadium. The house nestles on a postage stamp sized plot of land in an old, well established neighborhood of blue collar working folks.

Every weekend, when I was a kid, we'd listen to the baseball games at the stadium just by opening the windows. No need to attend, my father always said. There wasn't anyone I'd have gone to see anyhow, unless my brother was playing, of course.

When that occurred, my mother packed a lunch and we'd camp out in the bleachers. You'd think we were the visiting team instead of living a block away. If Saint Giovanni was struck out, my mother would stand up and yell Italian profanities at the umpire. Those were embarrassing moments.

About twenty minutes later, I pulled into the neat driveway bordered by a well manicured lawn and idled up to the garage door. The smell of flowers wafted up my nose and I glanced at bright colored blooms bordering the fence in the back yard.

My parents relaxed on the minuscule deck reading the paper. My mother tipped her news section down, looked over the top of her glasses and elbowed my father. I shut the rumbling motor off and stepped onto the deck.

"She's here for supper, I told you she would be.” Mom said.

He grunted and nodded as he tossed the sports sheets onto the deck floor and went indoors. I could hear plates and flatware rattle against the table surface as a mouth watering smell issued from the kitchen.

"Your father hadn't planned to cook today, but I insisted that you'd be here. Would you like a glass of wine before we eat?"

My mother was a wine drinker from way back. If there was a dilemma, she drank wine, if not, she drank wine. Either way there was a steady wine flow and had been as long as I could remember. Thank God she could hold her liquor.

I smiled and nodded as we went inside. My father stirred the pasta and a gargantuan salad sat on the table, ready to dress. Hunks of Italian bread teetered, piled precariously on the bread board and a butter dish nestled alongside.

"Are you expecting guests?” I asked.

"No, just you. We knew you'd need some food to take home, so your father made extra."

She called it extra, I called it enough to feed an army. But, I would take it home with me and that was worth a lot, right?

"What's for dessert?"

My father didn't make dessert, but my mother had a sweet tooth beyond reason. She'd taken to making hand dipped chocolates this year, and the ones that didn't come out right were hastily eaten by her, me and whoever she could palm them off onto. I'd watched her grow a bit round in the middle over the past year.
Must be the sweets
.

"I whipped up a strawberry rhubarb pie. It's too early in the season for blueberries so I made the best of it with strawberries."

I nodded and lingered in the kitchen to absorb the aroma of my father's cuisine, and accepted the glass of wine my mother handed me. While I contemplated the best way to request Livvy's death certificate, my mother stared at me. Her mind reading ability, the one all mothers seem to have, must have been on high because she picked the thought right off my head.

"You've gone through Lavinia's things, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I spent most of the day up to my armpits in her trunk in the bedroom. I wondered if you'd know the people in the photos she had tucked away. I brought a few with me if you'd look at them."

With a nod, she set her glass down and became real quiet. Liv's death had taken us all by surprise, but my mother's reaction surpassed even mine.

"Her death certificates came and I'm supposed to pick them up at Nardolillo's Funeral Home, but I haven't done it yet."

This couldn't have been a better opportunity, so I said, “Let me do that for you, Mom. I don't mind, honest."

"Would you? It's the last place I want to go,” she said. “Let me see the pictures before your father serves dinner."

She plucked her wine glass off the table and we strolled onto the deck to recline on the chaises. I glanced at her solemn face before slipping the pictures from my purse. Her glasses flopped down off the top of her head onto the bridge of her nose and I handed the photos to her. She stared at the people who smiled from the surface.

"I don't have any idea who these people are.” she said and turned the photos over to read the words and dates on the back. She slid one after another to the forefront and shook her head each time.

"Where did you find them?"

"In the trunk, along with pictures of our family. I don't know any of these folks, but thought you might."

"Huh, imagine that. She was secretive at times and we didn't see her as often as we'd have liked. Her life was a busy one. She frequently traveled to New York and had friends there. Sophisticated friends they were, stock broker people and the like. Even though she was my favorite sister-don't tell your aunts that-she had a side that I only saw once."

"When was that, Mom?” This was news to me and I waited, anxious for her to tell me.

"Once this past year, just before you moved in, she had a party at the house. She invited us and a few of those New York people to attend. I felt out of my depth and we didn't stay long. What do we know about stocks, bonds, jewel and gold prices? Stuff like that was the conversation of the evening."

The word
jewel
caught my attention.

"Did she enlarge upon the jewel thing when you two were alone?"

"No, I asked, but she just said it was a venue she'd looked into. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just curious about her. Even though I lived upstairs from her, I only knew Livvy as my aunt, but she had another life."

My father yelled through the screen door that it was time to eat. We rose and went inside to feast.

Dad served chicken crusted with rosemary that was so well done it fell off the bone. My mouth watered just looking at it and I dug in with fervor. Never let it be said that I'd pass up a good meal. But then, nobody who knows me would be so foolish as to make that mistake.

As the meal progressed, my father asked if I'd rented the apartment yet. I told him I had, but didn't mention the guy was single, attractive to a fault, and sexy as hell. But then, fathers don't really want to know that kind of information from their daughters. Now, if Saint Giovanni said that about a woman, well, you can imagine he'd have met with a pat on the back instead of the scowl I knew would be forthcoming.

My father, Gino Esposito, is of the opinion that women should be married with as many babies as they can bear. Wow, what a concept. I shudder whenever he starts barking about me, marriage and his wish that I'd settle down like my perfect brother.

Yeah, well Dr. Giovanni Esposito married a nurse practitioner who assists in his medical practice. Excuse me, I meant to say Saint Dr. Giovanni Esposito. Don't get me wrong, I adore my twin brother, I just can't abide the sainthood thing. Thank goodness he lives in Nebraska. The pressure on me would be too much to handle if he practiced medicine in Rhode Island. Imagine living in corn country though? Yikes.

"Has this tenant got a family or what?” Dad asked, as he passed the salad to my mother.

I reached for a chicken leg with my fingers and got a rap on the knuckles from his knife handle. Hastily, I pulled my hand back and used the serving fork while I chuckled. It was my just desserts if I acted like a cannibal instead of minding my manners, he grumbled.

"My new tenant is a single businessman. Other than that, I know little of him except he can afford to pay the rent.” Again, I left out the sexy, handsome, WWF size of him and prayed the conversation would end there. I should have known better.

"You rented to a single guy? What does he do for a job? I can't imagine that a single guy would want to live out in the boonies."

"It's not the boonies, it's only ten minutes from Providence and I don't know what he does other than it's something in city."

His fork stopped midway to his mouth and he scowled at me. “For God's sake Lavinia, he might be an ax murderer or somethin'.” His gruff voice boomed throughout the kitchen.

"It's always reassuring to know you have confidence in my ability to make a decision. Listen Dad, I can always fingerprint him and run him through NCIC."

NCIC is the National Crime Information Center and reveals all arrests in a person's background. As an instructor of criminal justice, I have connections with enough police departments to run this type of check, but I wouldn't. After all, he'd been recommended by Detective Bellini.

"Yeah well, you know I think you're smart, Lavinia. All the same, you never can tell who's a creep and who isn't. Just be careful, eh?"

My dad, forever the pessimist while I am the optimist. I guess that's why we butt heads more often than not.

"I will, I promise. By the way, the State Police have stopped by to enquire about Aunt Livvy.” Unwilling to share the jewel issues, I kept it quiet.

"Why would they bother you?” My mother's eyebrows arched.

"They're not bothering me, they simply have more questions about Aunt Livvy's life.” I pushed the empty dish away, sat back and sipped my wine while they finished dinner.

Dessert lay on the counter and I slid from my chair and started to clear my place at the table. Obviously, I couldn't wait for pie. My mother wasn't the only one with a sweet tooth.

With the pie in one hand and dessert plates in the other, I sat down and waited until my mother could cut and serve up the delectable pastry. We followed specific guidelines when it came to food and I never, ever crossed the line. Well, nearly never, ever.

My mother sliced through the pie as her glance slid to the shadow in the doorway. Suddenly, she stopped in mid serve. My eyes followed hers to where Marcus Richmond stood outside staring in. He raised his knuckles to knock. Gosh, he looked delectable, I thought with a warm tingle in my lower parts.

What he wanted and why he was here flashed through my mind. In haste, I rose and stepped to open the door while my mother continued to stare.

"Come in, officer. Can we help you?” Mom asked, with wide eyed wonder.

"Good evening, ma'am.” He gave a quick dip of his head and removed the wide brimmed campaign hat when he stepped into the room. His look told me this was official business and besides, he was in uniform. I glanced out the window where his grey Crown Vic had slid soundlessly into the driveway and parked behind my car.

My father turned to see who'd entered and his dark eyes slid toward me. He didn't utter a sound, just sat there and waited to see why I was hunted by the Rhode Island State Police.

Now, I have to confess the local police had come to the house before. Once or twice or so when my darling twin, Saint Giovanni, and I had been up to no good, so my father didn't flinch at a uniform. It had, however, been years since that had occurred. Gio and I were upstanding citizens now.

Introductions were made as my mother retrieved another.

plate and dished out the pie. I guessed that Richmond didn't have much choice but to eat it even if it choked him. She poured fresh perked coffee and placed a cup next to his plate.

A grin twitched the corners of his mouth and he settled at the table like an old family friend. I stared and wondered what this man was about. He popped up whenever I least expected and set my nerves atingle, not to mention other body parts. Dang. It took major control to resist a man like this.

My father still hadn't uttered a sound and waited for me to explain. This waiting game went on for a bit between the two of us, but my mother didn't pay any attention. She chatted with Trooper Richmond in her most mannerly way. If nothing else, my mom had the manners of a queen.

I smiled at her and Richmond, and asked, “What do ya want, Richmond?” So much for good manners, huh?

Unperturbed, he answered me.

"I happened to be in the neighborhood and saw your car. I stopped by your house on my way through the village, but you were gone."

He savored the pie and drank coffee like he'd been invited to dinner.
Real suave
. With a glance at my mother, I knew he'd made her day.

It was a sure guess that he'd come to accept my wiseass attitude since he hadn't flinched at the delivery of my question. I gazed at the craggy features for a moment.