J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 06 - Death Gone Awry (14 page)

“Nah, just asking. I figured if anyone knew what was going on, it would be you.”

I chuckled and asked, “Do you know Ben Gravani, the son, that is?”

“Sure, we attended the same private school. His father is an ass, but Benny was sweet. He handles his father’s financial empire, at least, that’s what I’ve heard,” Gianna answered while piling merchandise into my arms. She leaned aside and pointed to the main counter. “We’re moving sale items around today. Can you put those over there, please?”

I deposited the goods and returned to Gianna’s location. My mother and Angela discussed the bills of lading that had arrived with the new stock, which offered the chance to continue my chat with Gianna and not be interrupted.

“Is he a decent sort?” I wondered aloud as I studied the various goods displayed on a table close to Gianna.

She gave me a wide-eyed glance and said, “He was when we were in school. I don’t see him now, so I couldn’t say if he’s changed. Why do you ask?”

“I’d heard he was brilliant and wondered . . .” I said and let my voice trail away as my mother entered the room. I gave Mom a smile and kiss on the cheek, mentioned I had to get going and waved as I left.

I’d reached my car, when I heard my name called. I whirled around and came face to face with Ben Gravani.

“What do you want?” I demanded.

He gave me a congenial smile that didn’t quite warm his eyes. “To apologize for interrupting your classroom today.”

“Really? Well, I have a bridge I can sell you. Interested?” I asked with a snarky attitude.

He put out a hand, palm up as if in a plea. “You don’t understand.”

I waited.

“I went to see you, but noticed you were with two cops in the cafeteria. Since I knew your classroom number, I thought there’d be a chance to speak to you then. It was wrong of me to bait you in front of the students, and I’m sorry for doing that.”

“On the contrary, Mr. Gravani, you brought the class to attention and a lively discussion of possibilities ensued from your actions. Thanks for inspiring that, but don’t do it again, please.”

“Could we walk along the river? I’d like a chance to speak with you without a crowd of by-passers around.”

My curiosity ratcheted a few levels and I agreed. We took a side street, crossed the one-way lane to walk amiably along the rail that overlooked the waterway. We hadn’t gone fifty feet when Ben said, “The preacher isn’t who you think he is, Ms. Esposito.”

“Vinnie, please, and I’m confused over all the varied opinions given to me about this man, from those who have never met him. What’s your interest, Ben?” Intrigued, I stared at him and waited while leaning against the rail.

His good looks, marred by a deep scar that curved along the edge of his left orbital ridge beneath his left eye, must have come from his mother’s side of the family. Ben Jr., showed no resemblance to the man I’d seen online.

“It’s hard to explain and that explanation is far from simple.”

I glanced past him, turned toward the river and rested my arms on the steel rail. “Nothing in life is simple, especially these days. Why not tell me why you and everyone else I’ve come across lately have made Mr. Slaggard their first priority?”

With a slight but cool grin, Ben leaned next to me on the rail, his back to the river. “He’s being watched by the law, all types of law, not just locals. Slaggard appears as one of the good guys, but I’m telling you to look deeper, past that shiny snake charmer veneer he uses to fool everyone. Be on your guard, Ms. Esposito, uh, Vinnie. You have the gift of curiosity on your side, use it well.”

Before I could ask a question, Ben moved away from the rail and walked away, leaving me to stand with my maw agape. I’m sure it was attractive to drivers careening past. I closed my mouth, waited for traffic to abate, and then raced back to my car. Would this day ever get better? I shook my head in answer to my own question and drove toward Cranston to visit my Dad. It was time for some real answers.

A stop at the bakery for Italian bread and cold cuts, before I reached my parents home, brought me face to face with Trooper Jonah Franklin. I smiled as our eyes met and he nodded a greeting.

My order was ready for payment and I’d begun to walk toward the counter when I heard his soft voice. “I saw you with Ben Gravani earlier. You should take care there, Vinnie.”

Frozen mid-stride and surprised to hear someone had seen Ben and me together, I turned and gave Jonah a narrow-eyed glare. “Is that a warning or a threat, Jonah?”

His face a bit flushed, he stepped into my personal space and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Just trying to give you a heads-up, Vinnie. You might be under surveillance. Tread carefully. We never had this talk, understand?” The trooper brushed by me without another word, his bag of goodies in hand, and out the door he went.

I followed slowly, saw Jonah pull away from the curb and got into my own car with a tight chest from a sudden onset of anxiety. Hells bells, why was I under surveillance?

My father met me with a grin and a beckoning of his fingers for me to enter. I usually didn’t bother to knock, but I wasn’t sure if he’d be home. The garage doors were closed, and the house appeared deserted from the outside. I breathed a sigh of relief when I sauntered into the kitchen, saw the newspaper spread across the table and a cup of steaming coffee alongside it.

“Your mother is at the shop, Lavinia,” Dad said with a look of suspicion.

I plunked the assorted cold cuts and loaf of bread on the table and said, “I came to have a talk with you, Dad. This has nothing to do with Mom, and she shouldn’t be apprised of my visit, either.”

He rapidly put together two sandwiches, and I tore into mine, even though I’d eaten with the cops earlier on. There’s just nothing like the taste of fresh Italian bread. Italian cold cuts stacked between two thick slices and loaded with a healthy helping of oil and vinegar dressing that soaked into the soft interior of the bread hit the spot. The taste of sharp provolone mixed with the tingle of peppery capicola, thin sliced salami, salty prosciutto, and mortadella, as each vied for space on my taste buds.

When I moaned with satisfaction, my father chuckled heartily.

“You always have appreciated Italian food, more so than Giovanni, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“Indeed. Remember when we used to snitch bread and salami and feed the neighborhood kids? You’d get so mad,” I said with a chuckle.

“True, true, now what’s on your mind, Lavinia?” Dad asked as he placed a cup of coffee next to my plate.

“This preacher guy, Tim Slaggard, has brought a world of suspicion down on my head. I need answers to questions, and I’m pretty sure you know some of them, or you might point me in a direction to find them. While you don’t like my poking around and such, this has to do with family. I have to know what’s behind the incidents that have taken place.”

“Can’t Marcus answer your questions?”

I hedged and wiggled in my seat before saying, “We still aren’t on the best of terms at the moment. Not that he’d ever give me the answers I’m looking for. Those people guard stuff like everything is a state secret, for God’s sake.”

His smirk was enough for me to continue.

“Why would Ben Gravani Jr. approach me concerning Tim Slaggard, and why have I been warned to stay away from all parties concerned?”

My father’s stare widened a tad. “How do you know Gravani?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know him. He showed up in my classroom today, just like that.” I snapped my fingers. “I had no idea who he was, or what he wanted, and kicked him out of the room. Later, he approached me in Providence and said that Tim Slaggard isn’t who I think he is, whatever that means, and that I should look deeper, not take him at surface value. Any clue as to why Ben Gravani would be interested in Tim Slaggard?”

Dad tipped his head to the side and slanted a look at me. “Lavinia.”

I gave him the same look and said, “Dad.”

“You aren’t going to take the advice offered, are you? You’ve got to plow through what you have no right to interfere with, until you hit a wall,” he said coolly.

“You’re my best bet here. If I can’t count on you to give me the help I need to protect Aunt Josephine, then why bother asking?”

His features softened a bit. Maybe he saw how desperate I’d become in trying to figure out the players, their motives, and connections to one another. Maybe he’d given up, in consideration of the fact that I wouldn’t let the well-meant advice, currently being shoved down my throat, prohibit me from finding out what the hell was behind it all.

“The Gravani family is tied to others across this country, in Italy, and Sicily, too. You should avoid connections with Ben Jr., or anyone associated with the family. I say this to you because I know how dangerous they can be.”

“O-okay, go on,” I urged.

“There are those who think the mob is no longer strong, but the mob has only become better at doing what they do. They’re underground now, not in the public eye like the old days. As the world becomes increasingly high tech, so does the mob. Make no mistake, Lavinia, these are powerful people, more ruthless than ever, and much more cautious. Don’t be fooled by this kid, he’s brilliant, just like his father was at that age, the difference being Ben Sr. had to make his bones, the younger Ben was never required to do so. Ben Gravani Sr. is deadly, a made man, Lavinia, no mistake about it, and only time will tell if his son will become as cold hearted.”

He’d leaned back in the chair and stared at me with a look that rattled my bones, sent shivers skittering along my spine, and knocked my knees together. Hell, I was scared shitless without knowing any more now than I had when I’d entered the house, other than Ben Sr. had killed people.

I fiddled with the edge of my napkin. “While that’s all well and good, could you be more specific about the Gravanis and Slaggard, Dad?”

“They go back a long way, that’s all I know,” Dad said with a tone of finality. “Are you staying for supper?”

I’d had lunch with the cops, a while later I’d stuffed an Italian sandwich down my gullet, and now Dad wanted to know if I’d stay for supper? Good golly, I couldn’t possibly eat that much food in so short a time. Stuffed to the gills, I shook my head and asked, “Would Aunt Muffy know why the Gravanis and Slaggard are at odds, if they really are?”

My father waved the idea away and said, “Don’t bother her with this, please. She gets into enough tough spots all on her own, Lavinia.”

I smirked. “You’re right, of course. She’s the last wild card I need tossed into the mix.” Maybe seeing Mrs. Sarducci was the right course of action after all.

“Have you asked this preacher any of the questions you’ve asked me?” Dad wanted to know.

“When I’ve broached the subject of why someone wants him dead, he gets weird and talks about not knowing why. I think he’s hiding something he’s not willing to share, but I can’t seem to find a way to get information out of him.” An idea popped into my head, my inner voice began to clamor, and I rose, saying I was glad we’d talked. I hurried out the door before my father became more suspicious of my actions than usual.

From the kitchen window, Dad watched me start the car. I waved, he did, too, and I backed out of the driveway, in a rush to reach Scituate.

Chapter 14

Sunlight faded and the day grew dreary as I stopped outside the Salt & Pepper Deli. Parked at the curb, I hit the key fob, heard the locks click, and strode into the shop.

Before I could say a word, Millie handed me a hot cup of tea and asked if I wanted something to eat. I thanked her, shook my head, and started toward the kitchen.

“She’s not here,” Millie called as I rounded the front counter and stepped through the kitchen doorway.

“Where is she, then?” I asked and turned back to the slight woman.

A small shrug met my query and I sidled closer to Millie as she came within a few feet of me. I knew I often put her nerves to the test. Having been an abused wife, Millie still feared any sort of aggression, or what she viewed as aggression.

I smiled and took a sip of tea before asking, “Has she gone home?”

Millie leaned in a bit and whispered, “Yes, she got a phone call and bolted from the deli like she was on fire. Gosh, she scared the pants off me.”

I handed her the mug, thanked her again, and ran for the door.

The height of traffic in the village lasts between three and six o’clock in the afternoon. This was one of those times when I got caught up in the stream of cars that traveled to and fro. I tapped my toes while waiting for the light to turn green and traffic to get out of my way. The light changed, I hit the gas pedal and zoomed toward Lola’s house as though keeping pace with Indy race car drivers.

Along the narrow country road, I wheeled around the blind, sharp curve below Lola’s cliff-house and slammed to a stop next to the Mini Cooper. The driver’s door stood ajar, the car pinged, and Lola’s keys were still in the ignition. I hiked the stairs three at a time.

Lola paced the deck, wiping her face with a tissue and sniffling. I stopped short, took in her surroundings and asked, “W-what’s happened?”

“He’s gone. Tim called me for help, but we were cut off. The house is a wreck and he’s gone . . .” her voice trailed off, followed by a sob and some nose-blowing. Teary-eyed, Lola asked, “How do you deal with this crap all the time?”

I smiled, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked with her, into the house. My lips clamped together, I held back the gasp that threatened to escape. Tim Slaggard hadn’t gone anywhere without a fight. Lamps were smashed, furniture out of place, the table flipped over and kitchen chairs askew. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dialed 9-1-1 and asked that the police be sent to Lola’s address. Calm was the last thing I had going for me, but the voice on the other end of the call was so soft-spoken, it helped keep my own feelings to a dull roar. The voice said the authorities would be with us shortly.

She leaned down to pick up a lamp and I stayed her hand. “The police will be here soon and the scene shouldn’t be compromised, unless there’s a chance the fingerprint tech will be sent in.” I hesitated for a moment and then said, “If Tim’s fingerprints are in the system, he’ll show up when they run all the prints. Let’s wipe things down before they get here.”