J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 06 - Death Gone Awry (18 page)

“What are your thoughts on Tim Slaggard’s whereabouts?”

“If he’s not dead, he’s gone underground,” I said and heard the flat tone in my voice. If Slaggard hadn’t entered my life, I wouldn’t be wary of being alone in the dark, or nervous to be left in a closed room. On the bright side, I didn’t dread the idea of keeping my doors locked, or having to ask who was there when someone knocked. Marcus had preached that over and over, and I’d rarely taken him seriously. Until now.

“Why would he be dead?” Porter asked.

“Hell if I know. He’s rubbed somebody the wrong way and that someone is hot to find him. Who was the boss that ordered my abduction?” I wanted to know so badly I’d have resorted to bribery if I’d thought for one minute that it would work.

His stare cooled, and his face shuttered. He wasn’t about to say and I knew no matter how hard I tried to get him to share, my efforts would be for nothing.

“Need to know only, Vinnie, sorry.”

I leaned back, finished the coffee and stared at him.

He snickered and said, “Don’t look at me that way, I can’t tell you. Aaron can’t either, so don’t bother asking him.”

“Fine, I’ll let it go, for the moment,” I warned and glanced at my watch to hide the fact an idea had suddenly popped into my head. “Gosh, I have to leave, I have to visit Aunt Josephine.”

Porter raised a brow. “She must be worried about Slaggard.”

“Probably, but there’s nothing I can say that will relieve her anxiety. My visit is purely social, not business.”

“Yeah, right.” Porter walked me to the car and said, “Take care today, and be kind to this poor guy, will you? He was one of three who drew straws in the hopes of not having to protect you. Your reputation for being unruly has made the rounds, Vin.” He laughed, nodded a greeting at the agent and then walked away.

Chapter 18

Her yard was as tiny as that of my parents. No bigger than a postage stamp in my mind. Aunt Josephine’s Ford Focus sedan sat parked near the back entrance to her house, and I stopped behind it.

Having called before I’d arrived to give her fair warning of my visit, Aunt Jo stood in the doorway, a smile on her face. I smiled and air-kissed her cheek when I entered the house. The bodyguard had pulled to a stop across the street with a clear view of all that went on in the neighborhood.

“You look cheerful today, Lavinia. Come in, come in,” she invited. The table was set with a teapot engulfed in a knit cozy. Cookies were decoratively displayed on porcelain plates that matched the teacups.

“Sit, dear, we need to talk.” Aunt Josephine poured hot tea into the dainty cups.

I accepted the cup and nibbled a cookie while Josephine sat across from me doing the same. We munched and sipped until I thought I would have to eat the entire plate of snacks before Jo opened up. I looked into her dark eyes and finally asked, “How is everything going at the parish? I saw in the newspaper that a spring fair is scheduled.”

She warmed to the subject as she explained every detail of the fair, who was involved, and who wasn’t. I knew only one of the people she mentioned, and that was Marion Sarducci. A woman I wanted a chat with, but hadn’t been able to do so, as of yet.

During a brief lull, I asked about Marion. Jo’s eyes rounded and she said she’d never known such a generous woman, other than my mother, of course. Marion gave selflessly to the parish and to Reverend Slaggard. I smiled and agreed over her assessment that Marion was a major player when it came to supporting the congregation.

Aunt Jo chirped, “I wasn’t aware you knew so much about our group, Lavinia.”

“Mr. Slaggard has been forthcoming about all the work you and Marion manage to achieve. I couldn’t help but ask about it.” Hell, I knew nothing other than Marion Sarducci had filled the coffers more than once and that Aunt Jo had donated, too.

“Tim’s been ill the past several days, the poor man. He was hospitalized, did you know that?” Jo asked.

I shook my head and crossed my fingers as I contemplated skidding into hell sideways with a sly grin on my face. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

“No one knows, we were simply told he’s unwell. The parishioners are quite worried about him. He’s such a sweet man. You should get to know him better, Lavinia. He’s single, you know.” She smiled sweetly, and pursed her lips.

Right, my aunt the matchmaker, yikes. I grinned, crunched another cookie, and raised my cup for tea while wondering how I could get more out of her than her faith in Mr. Slaggard.

“Who said he was unwell?” I wondered aloud.

“Let me think a minute,” Aunt Jo said. Her face lit up and she said, “Marion mentioned it when we met yesterday, she said he’d been in the hospital for a brief stay.”

How did Marion know what had happened to the preacher? Could her husband have been the one who ordered my abduction? Had he sent men after Slaggard while he stayed at Lola’s? I tucked away the information, along with my questions, and sipped my tea.

“Auntie, is Tim originally from Rhode Island?” I asked innocently.

“Oh, dear, no, he’s from Boston. Marion said his mother’s family came from the old country and that he was raised in the north end.”

I nodded and saved that tidbit for later consideration. The north end of Boston is the Italian section of the city where the Mafia had ruled for many years, and probably still did. Southie consisted of Irish immigrants who had their own brand of mobsters.

“I didn’t recognize Tim’s accent as that of a Massachusetts resident. He has a beautiful speech pattern, don’t you think?” I gushed and watched Aunt Jo do the same. Good Lord, help me.

“Marion said his relatives came to Boston during prohibition. They ran a small restaurant or something . . .” her voice faded as though she’d lost her train of thought.

“Hmm, well, it’s good to know he’s got a long family history here in America. Does he have family back in Italy?”

“Marion never mentioned it. She said his mother is Italian and that Tim was sent to Italy for quite some time during his teenage years, but that was all she knew. Why do you ask?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m so taken with him, I can’t find out enough about the man. Dad is forever bugging me about getting married, and who would be a better fit than an Italian man-of-the-cloth?”

“I thought you and Marcus were serious and that marriage might be in your future,” Josephine said brightly.

“Unfortunately, Marcus can’t come to terms with my job and our family life, so we’ve decided to split up.” God would forgive me for the half-lie and this charade.

She reached a hand across the table and grasped mine tightly. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Lavinia.”

I gave her a fake sigh, tried to look forlorn, and hoped the act worked. Different from Aunt Muffy, by comparison, my Aunt Josephine was an innocent. She didn’t see the bad in people and lived a simple, good life. No mobster dating, no bad guy affiliations, nothing like that. Why her sons had turned into the dirt bags they’d become eluded me, no matter how I tried to understand it.

We chatted a bit longer about nothing important, and I took my leave. The agent had moved his car to Aunt Josephine’s side of the street. I gave him a brief wave, turned the Altima toward home and saw him follow.

My next stop was the Salt & Pepper Deli. I pulled up to the curb, the agent followed suit, and we headed for the building at the same time.

“You are?” I asked softly as we climbed the three steps to the front entrance.

“Harry Farnsworth,” he murmured.

I smiled and said, “Good to meet you, Harry. You can call me Vinnie.”

He gave me an impersonal look and stepped past me to the counter. I walked into the kitchen, while Millie took Farnsworth’s order, and greeted Lola with a wide smile.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” Lola asked.

I tipped my head toward the dining area and said, “He’s at the counter talking to Millie. A real treasure, he is.”

Her chuckle made me grin. “I take it you haven’t charmed the man?”

“Guess not,” I admitted with a laugh. “What’s cooking?” The essence of garlic, onions, peppers and something else, combined to tickle my senses. I lifted lids from pots and inhaled deeply, my mouth watered, and hunger pangs gnawed at me.

Lola pointed to the stool next to the stainless steel table. “Sit down, I’ll make a dish up for you.” She stared at me for a moment and then asked, “You’ve found out something, am I right? There’s a certain sparkle in your eyes.”

“I visited my dear Aunt Josephine earlier.” I quietly dropped the bomb while I waited for her enthusiasm to explode.

“You did not interrogate your aunt?” Lola asked with a touch of dismay and furrowed brows.

“We had a cup of tea, some tasty cookies, and a wonderful conversation concerning her parish, Tim Slaggard, and Marion Sarducci.”

Millie brought in three orders for Lola to fill and I relished the plate full of food that she’d deposited in front of me. Footfalls caught my attention and I watched the doorway. Farnsworth peered around the door casing and asked, “Everything all right in here?”

I nodded, Lola offered up her Julia Roberts smile and I waited for him to fall for it like all other men did. It’s nice when you can count on things, and his response to Lola’s smile was no different than any other man’s had been. I snickered and turned away from Harry, finished sopping up sauce with the last bit of Italian bread, and stuffed it into my mouth.

“I’ll leave you to your work. Stop by later and we’ll go out for a drink,” I said.

“Great idea, I’ll see you around six thirty,” Lola promised.

On the way out, I paid for my food and then drove home with Harry not far behind. He preceded me into the building and took the house key from me. “I’ll look the place over before you enter, understand?”

I nodded and waited in the hall. I heard him beckon me and entered the kitchen. He stood at the French doors and studied the landscape.

“This is a nice place. Do you own it?” he asked.

“My aunt left it to me in her will,” I said and plunked my valise on the desk in my office. When I turned, I found the man staring at me.

“Lucky for you. I live in the city and would love a place such as this in a country village if I could. My wife isn’t a country person.” He smiled and I stared. The man was quite good looking when his austere countenance was missing. His blue eyes sparkled, and a dimple formed next to the right side of his mouth when he grinned. Fascinated by the change in his looks, my internal antennae chose that moment to go wacky.

I wondered if I was supposed to open up and make friends with this dude, but my suspicion had perked up when he engaged in conversation of a personal nature. I was leery, but then he was an FBI agent, and what better way to pry into my life than by offering hints about his own? Had Aaron put him up to it?

“Your wife might be able to accept life in a village, but she’d find it difficult to live farther out in the countryside. I’m told I live in the boonies, but frankly, I think of this as my little Mecca. There are neighbors, churches, shops, and even a post office, let alone Lola’s deli. Hell, we even have a market.”

He smiled a tad and I asked, “Will you be with me all day?”

“Until Aaron arrives later.”

“It isn’t necessary for you to stay. I do appreciate the idea of being safe and looked after, but you’ll likely be bored,” I said.

“I’ve been assigned to protect you, so you’ll have to live with that.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be going to the cemetery to visit my aunt’s grave, so if you’re up for it, let’s go.” I left the valise where it had landed, buttoned my jacket again, and took my keys off the counter top. Harry didn’t appear happy about the jaunt, but he could hardly hold me here against my will, right? Maybe he could, but after yesterday, I refused to let anyone make me do what I didn’t want to.

We crossed the street, strolled down Silk Lane, and then took the side path that led past a house nestled under pine trees. Scents of moist dirt clogged my nostrils and my anxiety mounted as the wooded lane smelled dank like the
cantina radice
.

Several deep breaths later after a quickened pace, Harry and I came upon the cemetery. I walked well-used paths and made my way down the slope to Livvy’s grave. Harry stood atop the hill while, hawk-like, he scanned the area.

I murmured to Livvy as I cleaned debris away from her headstone. Dead flowers littered the ground, I folded them in half and dropped the sodden stems into a plastic bag I’d brought along for that purpose. I muttered that I’d be back soon and ran a hand over the headstone, saying how much I missed her and our time together.

When I looked up, Farnsworth was nowhere to be seen. Panic bubbled up within me and I started to tremble.
Get a grip, you can handle this. You never needed a babysitter, and you certainly don’t need one now.

The voice picked the worst moments to torment me, but it gave me pause. I shook off the fear, adjusted my jacket, and trekked up the hill to view the entire area in search of Farnsworth.

The man was gone. A chill skittered over me while I peered into the trees that surrounded this side of the cemetery. Nothing but dead leaves and the beginnings of plant growth lay under the pines.

“Harry?” I called.

Nothing, no answer came back to me, just the sigh of the wind through the tops of swaying pines. I called his name again and turned when branches snapped and footsteps pounded the earth. I hesitated a mere fraction of a second before I glanced back to where I’d come from. I ran flat out for the busy street that lay beyond the church in front of my hilly location.

Thudding feet chased me, but the man’s age and weight were no match for my speed. I controlled my breathing and increased my pace. Whether I’d outrun him or he’d thought better of chasing me where people could see him, I didn’t know. I glanced over my shoulder. Alone, and probably looking like the frantic runner I was, I slowed to a walk and dialed my cell phone. I’d been smart enough to tuck it into my pocket, and I waited for Aaron to pick up.

“Grant,” he said in a voice tinged with temper.