The Wedding Soup Murder: An Italian Kitchen Mystery (20 page)

L
ater that night, I was sitting with my parents at the restaurant when my brother appeared in the dining room. “I thought you’d all like to know that Toscano’s in custody,” he said as he took a seat. I noticed he made a point of not looking my way.
He’s still mad,
I thought
. How much will he say in front of them?

“Well, that’s a relief,” my mother said. “At least poor Chickie won’t have to deal with people thinking he’s a murderer, too.”

My Dad had his laptop open in front of him. “I don’t see anything about it online, Dan.”

“Not yet, Pop,” Danny said. “But it will be.”

Thank you
, I said with my eyes, but my brother only frowned. “Has Toscano been formally charged, Danny?”

“Well, not with murder,” he said. “They’ve got him on kidnapping and fraud, though.”

“So they know he’s not Merriman’s son?” I asked.

My parents both looked up in confusion. After a quick glance at Danny, I decided to tell part of the story. “Elizabeth had given a baby up for adoption
sixty years ago,” I said. “Toscano was pretending to be her biological son to defraud her of her fortune.”

“That’s terrible!” my mother exclaimed. “What a cruel thing to do. Did they find the real son?”

“He’s dead, Mom,” I said, earning another frown from my brother, who was clearly wondering where I’d gotten this information. “So, Dan,” I said, “have they made Toscano take a DNA test?”

He crossed his arms and stared at me. “Yes. And there’s an exhumation order in for Merriman’s body. But in the meantime, he’s got a sister in Maryland who came forward and swore Toscano hadn’t been adopted. Even offered to do a DNA test herself. They’d been on the outs for years.”

“Such a shame,” my mother said. “A brother and sister being estranged like that.”

“It is, isn’t?” I said, looking pointedly at Danny, who only shrugged.

“But what’s really sad,” my mom continued, “is that poor woman thinking she’d found her son after all these years. How lonely she must have been.”

“You’re right, Mom,” I said. “I’d been thinking the same thing.” I turned to my brother, whose tight expression told me I was still not forgiven. “Danny, when you got to my house last night, how did you know about what happened to William Fox?”

“When I called Belmont for backup,” he said, “they were already looking for Toscano. He’d forced Fox into the trunk of his car.”

“Is Fox okay?” I asked. “He’s the reason for the kidnapping charge, right?”

He nodded. “Fox is okay. A neighbor heard him screaming and kicking from the trunk. The neighbor called nine-one-one and Belmont’s guys got him out pretty quick. Luckily, he was willing to talk. He admitted that Toscano was paying him for information about Merriman Industries.”

“I guess Toscano was trying to fill in the gaps about Elizabeth’s life,” I said.

“Fox was also supposed to be spying on you.” Danny pointed to me accusingly, as though I had invited William Fox to lurk outside my cottage at night.

The less said on that subject the better
. So I spoke a different thought aloud. “I wonder if Toscano had planned to kill Fox to get him out of the way.”

Danny shrugged. “Could be. Throwing him in that trunk was an act of desperation.”

I nodded. “You mean just getting him out of the way for the time being until he figured out to do with him.”
And what might he have done to me?
The thought made me shudder. “Dan, is Toscano saying anything at all?”

“Not much. Except that he insists up and down that he didn’t kill Elizabeth Merriman. And claims he’s got an alibi.”

“Does it check out?”

Danny shook his head. “Don’t know yet; Belmont’s on that now.”

Something about this didn’t make sense. Why would Toscano clam up about the kidnapping and fraud yet talk about the murder? Did he really have an alibi for that night? But I was too tired to think it out. I stood up and grabbed my purse. “Listen, I need to go, guys.
Tomorrow’s my appointment with Regina Sutton,” I said.

My brother crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes in my direction. “Guess you’ll have a lot to tell her.”

County Prosecutor Regina Sutton stared me down from across her desk, her amber eyes blazing. “Ms. Rienzi,” she asked, “do I show up at your house, sit down next to you at your desk, and tell you how to plot your latest novel?”

I swallowed audibly. “Of course not, but—”

“But what? There is no
but
. Once again, you have involved yourself in a criminal investigation.
My
investigation. And you are a hindrance to it. You understand what ‘hindering an investigation’ means, do you not?” She clasped her hands in front of her, leaning toward me as if to say
Let’s see you get out of this one.

So I tried my only weapon at hand—diversion. “I thought I was here to give a statement about the night of Elizabeth Merriman’s death. And I’ve already done that. Your assistant took it. It’s all signed and everything.”
And it makes things look so bad for Dr. C.

She nodded and smiled tightly. “That is so, but now it is my turn to speak with you. And I have a question or two. First, what was Jack Toscano doing at your house last evening?”

Okay, this one I can answer. “
He just showed up. I was out on my deck—it faces the beach—and I saw him approaching.”

“From the beach side?” She pulled a pad toward her and began taking notes.

“Yes. He said he wanted to talk to me.”

“About what?”

Now here’s where things might get dicey.
Stick to the truth, Vic.
“He found out that I went to interview Louise Romano.”

She looked up from her pad, frowning. “Who is Louise Romano?”

Was it possible that Sutton’s team had not dug into Elizabeth’s past? If Sutton knew about Toscano’s masquerade as young Tommy, she might not be so quick to arrest Dr. Chickie for murder. I decided to take a big gamble. I sat up tall in my chair and looked straight into the Tiger Lady’s eyes. “I sought out Louise Romano as part of my research for a book about my family. My grandmother had knowledge of Elizabeth Merriman’s past, and I thought it would make a good subplot. Louise is the sister of Tommy Romano, a young man who died in the Korean War.”

“So that visit was research for a book, eh? Would that be like the research you were doing back in May, Ms. Rienzi?”

The
doing research for a book
excuse was growing increasingly flimsy. I shook my head. “No. The story of Elisabetta Caprio and Tommy Romano was a tragic one, and it
is
worthy of a book.” That, at least, was true. “But after I heard it, I realized it might have bearing on her murder.” I paused deliberately, praying I could carry this off.

Regina Sutton’s head snapped up, setting her dangling earrings shaking. “If you have information critical to this case, I insist you share it with me now.”

“I fully intend to cooperate with your investigation, Ms. Sutton, but I, uh, have a concern.”

She narrowed her eyes. “And what might that be?”

Now or never, Vic.
“My concern is that you might perceive my research as a hindrance. Particularly as I have been speaking with people who are involved in this case. And I know that hindering a criminal investigation carries certain . . . consequences. But I would hope that the information I provide might be perceived as a gesture of good faith that could, uh, mitigate my actions.”

Sutton sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and tilted her head, a smile playing about her mouth. “Are you trying to cut a deal with me, Ms. Rienzi?”

“Yes,” I said, letting out a large breath. “Look, I know it looks bad for Dr. Natale right now, but I don’t believe he’s a murderer. And I stumbled across some background information on Elizabeth Merriman that I think might build a case against Jack Toscano. I know I’d be compelled to give you that information anyway, but, frankly, I’m terrified of getting in trouble or causing problems for my family. And I don’t know who scares me more: you or my grandmother.” The words sped recklessly from my mouth; I was talking the way Sofia drove, and praying I wouldn’t crash and burn.

Still leaning back in her chair, Sutton shook her head. “Now, if this were a police show on television, this is where you and I would bond, right? We’d shake hands, exchange some clever banter, and team up to put a murderer behind bars. Is that how you see this little scene playing out?”

“N-not exactly.”

She flattened her palms on the desk, revealing ten glittery nails worthy of my mother. I stared at them while she spoke. “Well, this is not a television show,” she said. “This is not one of your books. And I don’t make deals with people who make my job harder.”

I hung my head, feeling like a third-grader who’d just gotten caught stealing the milk money. Only third-graders didn’t end up in jail. “I understand,” I mumbled.

“However,” she said with a sigh, “I don’t believe your intentions were malicious. And I might even believe that
part
of what compelled you was research. And since Toscano isn’t talking, I’ll take any information we can get.” She opened a drawer and set a small voice recorder on her desk. “So, tell me your story, Ms. Rienzi. But understand, I make no promises.”

It was too soon to give in to relief, but I did breathe a bit easier. I started with my grandmother’s story of the young lovers and the baby put up for adoption, and ended with my visit to Louise Romano and what Toscano had said at my house the night before.

Sutton paused the recorder. “So, Toscano might well have had knowledge of Merriman’s biological son? Enough to pass himself off as Thomas Romano Jr.?” I nodded and she pressed the record button.

“They served together in Afghanistan until Thomas was killed,” I said. “Louise, his aunt, indicated the two were close. So it’s quite possible that Thomas confided in Toscano. Then when Thomas died in action, Toscano saw an opportunity. He got the blue contact lenses and presented himself as Elizabeth’s long-lost son.”

Sutton nodded. “Go on.”

“He knew the blue contacts wouldn’t fool anybody but Elizabeth, who’s partially blind herself. So he came up with ‘eye trouble’ of his own and wore dark glasses as much as possible. Toscano also told me he passed a DNA test; if that’s true, he must have taken something from the body.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Try to limit your theorizing, Ms. Rienzi. What else did Toscano tell you?”

“He said that at the time of her death, Elizabeth had already settled sizable assets on him and that he proved that to the police. He indicated to me that he’d have no reason to kill her.” As I spoke, I had a sense of disquiet. What was it about Toscano and Elizabeth that was nagging at me?

“And he told you this last evening?”

I started at her sharp tone, and she paused the recorder again. “Did he or did he
not
tell you this last night?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “He came to see me at the restaurant a couple of days ago.”

“You’ve spoken to him before?” She pointed a glittery finger at me. “And you’re still claiming you did
not
seek him out?”

“Absolutely not. He struck me as dangerous, and I steered clear of him.” I didn’t add that that I was aware of the kidnapping charge or his association with William Fox; there was no way I could pass off knowledge of Fox as research. I had to pray she wouldn’t ask me about him.

“At least you had that much sense,” she muttered,
and hit the
RECORD
button again. “Getting back to last evening, Ms. Rienzi. Please recount for the record what transpired between you and Toscano.”

I finished up with a description of my conversation with Toscano, up to the moment the light flashed in his face and I noted his brown eyes. “And that’s when my brother arrived,” I said.

She turned off the recorder and folded her hands. “While I acknowledge that this information is helpful, Ms. Rienzi, as I said before, I make no promises.” She leaned across her desk, fixing me with her feline gaze. “And I had better not hear of any further involvement in this case. Do I make myself clear?”

I jumped to my feet. “As an unmuddied stream, Ms. Sutton.”

“Writers,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re dismissed, Ms. Rienzi.
For now
.”

I left her office with shaky knees and very wet armpits. I was pretty sure I’d escaped being arrested. And maybe bought Dr. Chickie some extra time.

But I had barely left the county office when a slow dawning of light rose in my brain. Toscano already had control of Elizabeth’s fortune. The only reason he would have for killing her was if she’d been onto him; he’d want her dead before she could change her will and expose him as a fraud. But I’d seen them the night of her death. I closed my eyes, straining to remember what I’d witnessed between the two of them. Elizabeth across the room, deep in conversation with Toscano. His head bent close to hers, and she smiling up at him.
Smiling
. Would she smile at a man who’d defrauded
her of a fortune? The implication was clear—as late as a couple of hours before Elizabeth’s death, she still believed Toscano was her son. And if this assumption was correct, I’d just punched a great big hole in the case against him.

I got into my car automatically, sat unmoving with my hands on the wheel. Should I go back inside and talk to Sutton? Didn’t this information change things—and not in a good way—for Dr. C.? Just then my phone vibrated, and Nina LaGuardia’s name appeared on its screen.

“Damn,” I said, but answered it anyway. “Wow, Nina, it’s ten thirty. You’re late this morning.”

“Ever the wit, aren’t you, Victoria?”

That would be to make up for your lack of them, Nina.
I sighed. “What is it you want? I’m cooperating with Regina Sutton’s investigation; you know I can’t talk to you—on the record or off.”

“Yes, dear, I remember. I’m actually calling with some news for
you
.”

I should have picked up on the sly tone in her voice, but I was too busy grabbing a pen and a pack of sticky notes from my purse. “I’m listening,” I said.

Her trilling laugh drilled into my ear, and I winced. “Good,” she said. “Because one of my sources gave me a
very
interesting piece of information last night.” She paused for effect.

“Just say it, Nina, would you?”

“Now you write this down, darling, okay? I’ll speak nice and clear so you don’t miss a word. Here it is: A witness has come forward from the night of Elizabeth
Merriman’s death. Apparently, he was out for a midnight stroll on the beach. And guess what he saw?”

Now I really was listening, my pen poised and ready. “Go on.”

“Well, this witness claims he saw Elizabeth and another person walking on the path between the club and the beach.”

Cradling the phone, I scribbled some notes and waited. “Another person?”

“Uh huh. Another person described as short, stocky, and bald. Wearing a dark suit. And leading Elizabeth by the arm.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I said.
Except doom for Dr. Chickie
. “Did the witness see anything else?”

She laughed again, and I held the phone farther from my ear. “You mean did he see the Embezzling Orthodontist shove Merriman over the seawall? Sadly, no. But he saw enough. Enough to put Dr. Charles Natale in an extremely sticky position, wouldn’t you say?”

The answer was obvious. Had my parents heard this news? And then another thought occurred to me, one that had probably crossed Nina’s usually obtuse mind as well: Dr. Natale was a close friend of my dad’s, and Frank Rienzi was a well-known figure in Oceanside Park. If Dr. Chickie was arrested for murder, the Casa Lido would once again be dragged into a murder investigation, this time at the height of the summer season. I pressed my fingers to my eyes, trying to sort out what I should do next.

“Victoria?” Nina said sharply.

“I’m here.”

“What’s the matter, dear? Did I catch you off guard with that little tidbit? Now, while I have you on the phone, I have a question or two for you. How close is your father to Charles Natale? And how does it feel to find yourself, once again, in the middle of a murder investigation?”

“I have no comment, Nina,” I said through my teeth.

“Oh, but you will, Victoria,” she sang out. “You will.”