J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 06 - Death Gone Awry (13 page)

I raised a brow and gave her a sideways glance of dismay. “You’re sure?”

Her nod was definite and I started the car, drove west, and parked in her yard a short time later. Tim required assistance climbing the multiple steps to Lola’s house. The neat little abode perched on a high ledge overlooking the road. A clearing sloped to the left side of the house. I’d have thought building in the clearing would have been better, but who knew why others made the choices they did? I had enough difficulty figuring out my own.

After Tim settled in Lola’s bedroom, she pulled the door nearly closed. I slumped in a chair and whispered, “You’ll be all right?”

She nodded vigorously and said, “It’s been quite a day, huh?”

I smiled and gave her a nod. “You have no idea how bad it was.” In a soft whisper, I shared all that had taken place, especially what I’d refused to discuss with Aaron. “Monica was upset when Marcus came to the house. He made a remark about my having my fortune told and she nearly ran away. Why would she act that way?”

Lola shrugged. “She’s a talented, insightful woman who has had to put up with a lot of snide remarks and innuendo. Could she have been upset that Marcus would poke fun at her?”

“He did in a half-hearted way, but his words were directed at me. I don’t think it was what he said, more what she saw in him. Have I been blind or what?”

“Not you, never. I think Marcus is having problems at work and taking it out on you. He does have to walk a fine line, but he knew how you were from day one. Don’t blame yourself for his actions, Vinnie. Monica may have sensed his feelings and shied away from them. She isn’t one for violence or an argument, serenity is her thing.”

With a yawn, I bid her goodnight and left her fumbling with blankets and a pillow on the sofa. At the door, I looked back and said, “Call if there are problems. I mean it.”

“I know.” Lola smiled and clicked off the lamp, leaving a small glow in the room that emanated from a leaded glass nightlight plugged into the socket near the front door. I quietly left the house.

Chapter 12

The week started off with a bang. Traffic was horrendous while on my drive to the campus. I found no available parking spaces in the instructor’s lot, and finally found a slot in student parking at the end of a long line of cars. I shivered as March winds battered me, rain sprinkled down on my head, and I hefted my heavy valise from one shoulder to the other while mumbling that I’d parked in the back of beyond. Geesh.

At the corner of the building entrance, I found Dario, an undercover Providence cop, slouched against the brick wall near the door. I slowed, gave him a look, and tipped my head for him to join me.

“Word on the street is that Slaggard fellow left the hospital. Would you happen to know about that, Vinnie?” Dario asked casually.

I felt a bump against my elbow and turned toward the person on my right. Inquisitive gray eyes met mine. I smiled, and greeted Detective Porter Anderson.

“Got time for coffee, Vin?” Porter asked blithely.

I glanced at my watch, gave a reluctant nod, and said, “A quick one.” These two men wanted to question me, and if I didn’t give in now they’d only harangue me later. It’s aggravating when this shit happens.

Suddenly, I wished for a more mundane life. That wish lasted a fraction of a second before I swept it away and buried it deep beneath the other inconsequential rubble stored in my brain.

We took a seat far from students and other faculty members and, like a football team, we huddled close. I waited and glanced back and forth between Dario and Porter.

“Did you pick up Slaggard last night?”

I stared at Dario and answered, “What if I did?”

Porter snorted. “Don’t sidestep, Vin.”

“Fine. He called, said someone was trying to kill him, and asked to be picked up. End of story.” I fiddled with the half cup of now cold brew, and then swigged it down.

“Where’d you stash him?” Dario asked, his eyes alight with interest.

Hesitant, I sat back in the chair and then huddled forward again. “I can’t say, sorry guys.”

Porter gave me a cool stare and said, “Not good enough, Vinnie. If you don’t have him, who does? Your parents? Lola?” He stared hard and then remarked dryly, “Tell me you did not involve Lola in this.”

“I had no choice, she insisted. He’s at her place, or was last night, at any rate. She felt he’d be safer there. I saw her car at the deli when I left for the campus, so she’s fine and I’d say he is, as well. What’s this about?”

“We got a report of someone ransacking the room Slaggard had been assigned. The nurse called security, who, in turn, called us, due to Slaggard’s previous assault. We’ve been hunting down leads and have come up empty. Any ideas, Snoop Leader?” Porter asked with an arched brow.

Snoop Leader? Hardly. I scoffed at the men and glanced at my watch. “I’ll be late if I don’t get to class, meet me in Providence around noon. Pick a place and text me, okay?” I gathered my belongings, tossed the cup into the trash, and scooted from the room. From the corridor, I glanced back and saw Porter and Dario deep in conversation.

Students filed in, a few at a time, some happy and some distracted. A few looked miserable and I paused to wonder why.

“Let’s talk about following leads, and how the evidence can take you to the least expected places imaginable,” I said.

From the back row, I heard, “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Ms. Esposito?”

I peered at the student, realized he wasn’t one of mine and asked, “And your meaning is, Mr., uh, what’s your name?”

“Gravani, Ben Gravani. You’re in the news quite a bit. Do you follow leads, Ms. Esposito?”

I flipped my hair off my shoulders with one hand and realized the other rested on my hip. Attitude in place, I said, “You don’t belong in this classroom, Mr. Gravani. It’s time for you to leave.”

With a cold smirk, Gravani said, “If you say so, but I’ll be around later. We can discuss leads, then.”

Students gaped at me, and then at Gravani as he sauntered out of the room, his steps cocky and confident. Just what I needed, another shithead in my life, it wasn’t as if I didn’t have enough of them already.

The door closed silently and the group sat watching me. Nearly every face held curiosity while some held something else. I didn’t know what, and didn’t care. Unsettled, I strived to bring the subject matter back in focus.

The hours seemed to crawl, discussion was stilted between me and the class, and when it all came to a dead halt, I posed a question to them.

“What do you think this man was doing here in my class?” I leaned on the podium and waited.

Students glanced at one another, some shrugged, others looked anywhere but at me, and a cop from the Providence station said, “I’d say he was here to threaten you in some way.”

“How did you come to that conclusion, Officer Riley?” I knew this kid as a second year rookie who’d decided he wanted to take the fast track on his climb to success. He was active in class, never missed a thing, and stayed out of the differences of opinion that usually resulted in yelling between those concerned.

Riley held up his fingers and ticked off reasons, “First, he intentionally sought you out. Second, he’s a cocky arrogant bastard who didn’t make an out-and-out threat, but did so in a roundabout way. And third, you should contact your friends in the police department and find out what you can about him. Gravani,” he said and snorted. “Now that’s a name the undercover unit might know real well.”

“Very good answer, anyone else want to chime in?” And so the last hour went. Students grew enthused over having the option of delving into what could happen, might happen, and what should happen. I listened, made mental notes on how to deal with yet another scumbag, and then dismissed the class with thanks.

My laptop notebook slid out of the bag as I tugged its corner. I flipped the lid open, brought up my online search page, and entered Ben Gravani’s name on the search line. A slew of information scrolled across the screen. I clicked this one and that, but the man’s picture was different than the kid who’d been in class, though his face was familiar. Unable to place where I’d seen him, I shut down the computer, tucked it away, and left the college.

My car moved along with the traffic leaving the campus. I heard my phone chime and pulled to the side of the road to check my message. Porter’s text said to meet him and Dario on Wickendon Street at Mack and Mutt’s Deli. I texted back I was on my way and took off for Providence’s India Point.

Twenty minutes later, I squeezed my car into a parking spot that left little to be desired. I’d worry about getting back into traffic later. I scurried along Wickendon Street, crossed over and scooted up the steps of the deli. Mack smiled when I entered and pointed to a wall-side table where Dario and Porter awaited me.

“Hi guys, have you been waiting long?” I asked and slung my jacket over the back of the wooden chair.

“Not long. How was class?” Porter asked.

“You got a call, didn’t you?” I asked.

“We did. Riley said you had a visitor today. Want to talk about that?”

“This guy, Ben Gravani, isn’t one of my students. He made a nuisance of himself and I asked him to leave, which he did. No big deal,” I said offhandedly.

“What do you know about this character?” Dario asked, his dark eyes alight with interest.

“Nothing. I looked him up online after class ended, but the only Gravani I found wasn’t the man I’d searched for. What do you two know about him?”

“The younger Gravani attended Yale, got a degree in finance, and runs his father’s loan shark business. It’s the best run business in New England. He does it so well, in fact, that we haven’t been able to touch him or his father, Ben Sr., so there you have it. Why are they interested in you, Vin?” Dario asked.

I shrugged again in reply.

“There’s got to be a reason,” Porter insisted.

I thought for a second and then said, “When I looked this kid up, all I got was the photo of a business man who seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him. What more can I say?”

Porter took my word for it, scrolled through his cell phone photo gallery and flipped the phone in my direction. “Is this him?”

With a nod, I looked at Porter and said, “That’s the same man I found online. Why?”

“That’s Ben Gravani’s father. He’s a business man, all right. Stay clear of that family, Vinnie. I’m warning you.”

“He doesn’t look like his father at all. Maybe that’s why I didn’t connect the two when I saw the photo. I’ll stay clear, I promise.” I crossed my heart with two fingers and watched the men smile.

We ate, discussed Tim Slaggard and his supposed death gone awry incidents, and I asked, “Why would everyone be so interested in Slaggard? Frankie Tomatoes, his wife, and now you two, are questioning me about him.”

“There’s something about this guy that makes people want him dead. You’ve saved his ass twice, and now that makes you of interest to them. Those who wish him dead have their own agenda. We don’t want you involved with them or with Slaggard. Steer clear, Vin, it’s for your own safety,” Porter remarked ominously.

I sat back and tossed my napkin on my plate. “I’m tired of being told what to do, I really am. Marcus, Aaron, and now you two think you can just give me the ‘don’t get involved’ warning and that I should be fine with that. Guess what? I’m not fine with it. It just makes me more and more curious over what’s behind the warnings. What aren’t you telling me?” I asked with a sharp edge to my voice that surprised even me.

His hands up, Porter said, “Calm down, Vin. This is an effort on our part to protect you. The mob doesn’t like being messed with, you know that, or at least you should by now.”

“Honest to God, if you don’t give me something more concrete than stupid warnings and half-baked theories, then we’re done here.” I folded my arms and sulked.

“I can’t tell you more than what I’ve said. There’s a connection between the mob and Slaggard. Law enforcement is watching the situation very closely, don’t screw up what detectives have in place, Vin, just don’t do it.”

This meant everyone was watching everyone. Finger pointing might be going around, but evidence was lacking. So who was at the bottom of it all? Slaggard and the Sarduccis? How had Gravani entered the mix, and why? Was Aunt Josephine in danger? Did Mrs. Sarducci have a clue as to what was happening under her very nose? Maybe it was time for a chat with her.

“You make a good point, Porter, as do you, Dario. I’ll take your advice into consideration and mind my own affairs.” I glanced at my watch. “Which means, I need to stop by Conclavia. Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said with a smile and tossed money on the table for my share of the bill. Porter tossed it back and I grinned. “Thanks, see you around.”

As I closed the deli door, I caught sight of Dario and Porter shaking their heads at one another. They knew, as did I, that their advice was wasted on me. It had only increased my curiosity over the puzzle. Why would thugs and a preacher be associated? What would make them come together? Was it business, personal, spiritual? I shook my head, flipped my hair off my shoulders, and drove to South Main Street.

Chapter 13

Deliveries were stacked inside the front door of Conclavia. Angela and my mother scurried about, hefting boxes into the small storage room. I smiled when Gianna called out a hello from behind the towering containers as I carried the last box in and set it down.

“Looks like summer orders have arrived, huh?” I asked with a grin.

Dusting her clothing off as though she was covered in it, Gianna laughed and led the way into the store. Before we reached the wide doorway, she leaned in and whispered, “How’s the preacher doing? I saw his picture on the news this morning.”

“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen him,” I answered innocently. “Do you know him?”

Gianna’s family was mob connected, related, and associated to some of the biggest and most powerful people in all of New England. I’d never asked her about them, but knew it was so from what Nonni and my mother had said when I’d first hired the woman.