From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) Page 20

  “Then go home to her now. It’s where you belong.”

  Frankie inclined his head in a gesture of gratitude and touched his heart. He took his hat from the doorknob and opened it to leave, but then turned back.

  “I didn’t kill Vincenzo and I don’t know who did.”

  “Then why did you try to hire Angelo and I the day before the murder? Your timing was suspicious, almost as if you knew something was going to happen.”

  “The truth is that I wanted to get the measure of your brother and see if he would be interested in working for me.”

  Sophia was suspicious. “What kind of work did you envision Angelo doing for you?”

  “Background investigations on various individuals.”

  Unbelievable. “You wanted Angelo to dig up dirt on people so that you could blackmail them?”

  Frankie made a clicking sound with his tongue and wagged a finger at her. “How can you make everything sound so bad? I don’t blackmail people. That’s illegal. I do, however, find a certain degree of knowledge provides me with leverage, if you follow my meaning.”

  She did follow his meaning, straight back to blackmail.

  “I did not kill Vincenzo Moretti. I’ve never killed anyone. I confess to giving the appearance of bending the law, but I never break it.” He held up his hands as if he had just presented her with the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “I even pay my taxes.”

  “How admirable.”

  “I really am terribly sorry that I hurt you, Miss Mancini. I panicked at the thought of you telling people what you found out about me. In the way of an apology, I’m prepared to offer you a certain degree of protection.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes. “Mr. Vidoni, spare me the head of the family routine. From what I saw today, the only thing you are in the position to offer me is a year’s supply of virgin olive oil.”

  “But there is something you want from me?”

  Sophia nodded. “I’m prepared to keep your secret as long as I believe you’re on the right side of the law. I have no desire to take away whatever enjoyment you gain from your charade.”

  “Thank you.” He sounded genuinely grateful.

  “In return, I want your promise that if I ever need your assistance with a case, you provide it with no questions asked.”

  Frankie’s eyebrows rose. “You drive a bargain like a man.”

  Sophia smiled. “Things aren’t always as they appear to be, are they? Now, do I have your word?”

  He sighed. “Yes, you do. Heaven help me.” He put his hat on. “I may not be the man I appear to be, but I am a man of my word. Sleep well.”

  ***

  Only an hour later, Sophia’s hospital door slammed open and she awoke with a start. She reached for the overhead light and switched it on.

  “Who’s there?”

  “They told me you was here.” Mooch stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of blue striped pajamas, a worn terry bathrobe and a frown. “What happened?”

  “Come in, Mooch.” Sophia sat up in bed, careful to keep the blanket covering her chest. She’d never entertained so many men while wearing so little. She pointed to a chair beside her bed. “Have a seat.”

  Mooch settled himself awkwardly in the chair. He was too large, or the chair was too small, for him to possibly be comfortable.

  “What happened?” he repeated his question, his voice still raw and coarse.

  Sophia bit her lip, wondering just how much to tell him. She’d promised Frankie she’d keep quiet, and she didn’t know how Mooch would react to hearing that his boss had knocked her out.

  “I’m fine, Mooch. Really. I hit my head and passed out.”

  His frown deepened. Time for a change of subject.

  “How are you, my friend?”

  Mooch shrugged. “I’m alive.”

  “What does Dr. Casterinni have to say?”

  “He says I’m lucky I’m so big. There was enough poison in my food to kill a smaller man.”

  Sophia shook her head. The very idea of someone being cruel enough to poison Mooch enraged her.

  “Mooch, do you have any idea who could have done this? While you’ve been here, have you remembered anything that can help us figure out who tried to kill you?”

  He shook his head morosely. Sophia closed her eyes and lay back against the pillows.

  “Are you okay?” Mooch sounded panicked.

  Her eyes flew open. “I’m fine, Mooch. Don’t worry. I just can’t make sense of it all. Yet. But we will.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t see how.”

  Neither did she, but she wasn’t about to admit it. It was bad enough facing up to it herself.

  “Did Dr. Casterinni say when you can go home?” she asked.

  Mooch nodded. “Soon.”

  “You must be happy about that.”

  He shrugged.

  “You’ll be able to bring Precious home,” she reminded him and was rewarded with a smile.

  “Can anyone join the party?”

  Sophia smiled. It was Angelo. “What are you doing here?” she asked, suddenly feeling much better at the sight of him.

  “I’m here to keep you company until you fall asleep.”

  Mooch knit his brow. “I’m already doing that. I’m Sophia’s friend, so get out.”

  Sophia quickly made the introductions. Mooch’s frown disappeared when he discovered that Angelo was Sophia’s brother. He stayed a few minutes more before reluctantly taking himself off to his room, with a promise to check back in on her the following morning.

  “You’ve made quite a friend there,” Angelo said once the door was shut. “Are you sure he’s a wise choice of companions?”

  Sophia hesitated. She could understand Angelo’s concern. Mooch was a huge, lumbering, sullen-looking man. But she believed he had a heart of gold underneath the gruff exterior. Frankie’s words came back to her. He’d been right. People weren’t always as they seemed to be.

  “I’m sure Mooch is one of the good guys,” she assured her brother. “But something else has me worried.” She told him about the woman she’d seen get out of the taxi at the Vidoni home.

  “So the nurse is a floozy and flirts with taxi drivers. What’s it to you?”

  Sophia shook her head. It wasn’t fair to her brother, but she expected him to read her mind at least half of the time. Obviously, this wasn’t one of those times.

  “It’s not like that, Ang. I’m not being judgmental. Something’s not right about her.” She wished she could put her finger on what, but it was hard to pinpoint. “Can you look into it?”

  “How? Call the man who fired us, who also just got out of jail, and who is spending what little time is left with his wife before she dies, and tell him you don’t like the look of one of the nurses? No way.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it myself later.” As annoyed as she still was with Frankie, she had to at least mention it to him.

  “Did you see Andrea?” she asked, changing the subject. “How was his first day at the restaurant?”

  “Oh, I did, and you’re going to like this.” He smiled. “He thinks he found the blackmail book, as you like to call it.”

  Finally, a break. “Tell me what he said.”

  “He said that Eugene left the kitchen to talk to a client about a catering job. Andrea used the time to look in the cupboards and pantry. He found a stack of old cookbooks--”

  “I knew it,” Sophia grinned. “I knew Eugene and Vincenzo had to have some around.” She loved being right.

  “Let me finish, sis. One book drew his attention because it didn’t have the same old, worn look. It was a cookbook, but he said it had odd notations in the margins.”

  “Odd how?”

  “He’s not sure. Said he was just going on instinct, but it didn’t make sense. The few other books he looked in didn’t have any writing in them.”

  “Did he take it?”

  Angelo shook his head. “No, he wanted to check with us first. He h
eard Eugene coming back so he put it back, but he said he’ll at least copy a bit of it tomorrow if we can think of a way to distract Eugene.”

  “So Eugene Gallo took over Vincenzo’s blackmail scheme. Who would have guessed he had it in him?”

  “We don’t know it was Eugene for sure. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Anyone could have put the book there--the perfect place to hide it, right in plain sight. And there’s still a chance that Andrea was mistaken.”

  “True. I’m sure we can find a way to keep Eugene busy long enough for Andrea to copy a bit.”

  “We? No. You’re staying here tomorrow. I’ll go.”

  Sophia wanted to object, but he had her over a barrel. It wasn’t fair.

  “Stop pouting. Now, are you hungry?” Angelo reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper, and handed it to her.

  She smiled her thanks. She was hungry.

  “So, tell me something else interesting,” she prompted him as she unwrapped the sandwich.

  “I ran into the police captain downstairs. He’s looking into a hit and run.”

  Something in his voice warned Sophia there was more.

  “Anyone we know?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Stella Moretti, and it doesn’t look good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It took a great deal of effort for Sophia to convince Angelo to take her downstairs so she could check on Stella’s condition.

  “No, absolutely not. You stay in bed and I’ll go down and bring you any news I can find,” he insisted.

  “No, no, no. Angelo, I need to get down and hear it for myself.” She fixed a stern eye on her brother.

  He stared back, unintimidated and unimpressed. “Don’t push your luck, sis. I’m still more than a little put out with you for sneaking off today instead of coming to the funeral.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t even know where you went, and now you want me to help you get into more trouble? Forget about it.”

  They sat in silence, neither one willing to budge.

  “Mangia,” Angelo finally urged her. “You need your strength.”

  She’d managed a few bites, but couldn’t eat more. The meatballs tasted worse than dry cardboard that had been left in the sun too long. She looked down at the sandwich. Perhaps it offered bargaining power.

  “I’ll eat the whole thing later if you help me downstairs first.” It had been ages since she’d had to wheedle anything out of her brother, but she knew she still could. He was a soft touch. “Please, please, please, Ang. I’ll be a model patient after that. I just know that Stella was hit by Vincenzo’s murderer. It couldn’t have been an accident.”

  He nodded his agreement.

  “We’ve all but solved the case, Ang. You know that too.”

  “Have we?” He raised an eyebrow. “Funny, I’m still in the dark. I didn’t even know we’d been fired, remember?”

  “Let’s make a deal,” she bargained, reverting back to their childhood method of compromising. “I get to go downstairs just for ten minutes.”

  “And you agree to come right back here and not leave this room for any reason until I take you home,” he countered.

  She smiled gratefully. “Deal.”

  She hurriedly dressed while Angelo waited outside the door. When he gave an all-clear knock, she slipped into the hallway.

  “I don’t like you running around like this,” Angelo said, concern etched on his face, as he helped her into the elevator. “Let me find you a wheelchair.”

  “Stop fussing. It’s Stella we need to be worried about.”

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

  “I’ve got indigestion from that nightmare of a meatball sandwich you made me try.” She grimaced. “Where did you get it? Did Zia Christina send it? She’s got to stop experimenting.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t blame her. Andrea brought it home from the restaurant.”

  The elevator thudded to a stop. Sophia put a hand over her stomach. The lurching motion didn’t help matters. She held tightly to Angelo’s arm as they made their way to the critical care unit. Luck was with them. They avoided running into either Dr. Casterinni or a nurse who could recognize her.

  They found Marco Lato slumped in a vinyl chair.

  “Marco,” she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “I just heard. I’m so sorry.” She quickly introduced Angelo. “Is Stella still in surgery?”

  Marco’s eyes were filled with unshed tears. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. No one has told me anything.”

  “Let me go and try to get an update for you,” Angelo offered.

  He helped Sophia into a chair, for which she was desperately grateful. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. The walls seemed to close in and then expand again. She struggled to focus on Marco.

  “What happened? Where was Stella hit?” She barely recognized the strained sound of her own voice.

  Marco lifted his hands to indicate his ignorance. “I don’t know. I can’t understand why she was out at all. After the funeral I went home to be with Leo. Stella and I agreed that we wouldn’t be seen together for a while.” He looked at Sophia helplessly. “It wouldn’t look right.”

  She nodded, trying to ignore the nausea that was threatening her composure. “I understand.”

  “Stella couldn’t have needed anything; she had a house full of women to keep her company.” Marco stood and paced back and forth. “She has to pull through surgery. It would be too cruel if something happened to her now, just when we finally have a chance to be together. I want to marry her.”

  Angelo reappeared. “I found a nurse who can give you an update on how Mrs. Moretti’s surgery is going. Come with me and I’ll show you where to find the nurse’s station.” He turned to Sophia. “Sis, will you be okay for a second?”

  She nodded and waved her hand, motioning for him to go ahead, not trusting herself to speak. As soon as they were out of sight, she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. She desperately wanted to think about who’d tried to run Stella down, but it was all she could do to breathe in and out.

  Andrea’s sandwich was beyond nauseating. He had no business working in a kitchen. What was wrong with Eugene that he hadn’t noticed what Andrea was putting into the marinara sauce? A chef as talented as Eugene would never let anything this vile-tasting leave his restaurant.

  Eugene. Through the mental fog that she found herself enveloped in, Sophia struggled to think. Eugene Gallo. He’d sent the sandwich with Andrea. Mooch. Eugene poisoned Mooch. And now he had sent food to poison her.

  He’d murdered Vincenzo. And now he wanted her dead.

  She had to tell someone. Eugene had to be stopped. What was taking Angelo so long? She tried to sit forward, but even that tiny movement was too much. She gripped the sides of her chair. Someone would come along. All she had to do was wait. But please, God, she half prayed, half begged, let them be fast about it.

  “Miss Mancini, how fortunate I found you here.”

  That voice. She knew that voice. Her vision was blurred, but she knew it was him. She recoiled at the thought of him coming closer. More desperately than she’d ever wanted anything, she wanted to get up and run. But she couldn’t even stand on her own.

  “You don’t look well at all, you poor thing.” The voice came closer. “Are you here all alone?”

  Sophia shook her head wildly. She wanted to strike out but she couldn’t make her limbs obey her desperate pleas to move, to protect herself. She had to get away.

  “Here, let me help you up.” She felt a hand slip under her elbow. She tried to resist when he pulled her to her feet, but she had no strength in her limbs.

  Oh, God, where was Angelo?

  “Is everything all right here?” It was a woman’s voice.

  Sophia wanted to reach out, but her arm hung limply at her side. No, no, she screamed silently. It’s not okay. I’m not okay. He’s going to kill me
.

  “Help me,” Sophia struggled to form the words but they came out as a moan.

  “We’re fine, thank you.” His voice so smooth and calm that it terrified Sophia. “I’m just going to help my friend out for some fresh air. You’re very kind to ask though.” Vaguely Sophia thought she heard footsteps fading away. The Good Samaritan was abandoning her.

  “No, no, won’t go,” Sophia struggled to speak.

  “Shut up,” Eugene hissed in her ear as he half led and half dragged her away from the sitting area. “You and your damn mouth, always talking, always asking questions. You’re as bad as Vincenzo was.”

  “Killed him. You did it.” The corners of her mouth were growing increasingly numb. She was losing the ability to control her facial muscles.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Eugene hissed. “I didn’t kill him. Everyone hated him, and someone snapped before I did. But I’m glad. Glad, do you hear me?”

  His grip on her arm tightened and he shook her. She’d have a nasty bruise tomorrow. If there was a tomorrow. Where was he taking her? He was now virtually holding her up. She tried to pull away, but he jerked her back next to him. He was taking her out of the hospital. Away from safety.

  “Who?” Had the word come out right? She shook her head, but she still couldn’t focus. She desperately wanted to scream, to pull away, anything to escape from Eugene, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. The poison he’d put in the sandwich made her a prisoner in her own body. His prisoner.

  “What do I care who killed him?” Eugene’s laugh was harsh--smug, bitter. “Now the restaurant is mine and no one is going to take it away from me. No one. Not that bullying bastard Vincenzo, not his stupid cow of a wife, and not you. It’s all mine--the restaurant and the blackmail money.”

  The cool evening air hit her face. They must be outside. Why didn’t someone notice Eugene was dragging her? Why didn’t someone stop him?

  “Lord above, Miss Mancini, that can’t be you, can it? What on God’s green earth are you doing out of bed? I swear you are the most exasperating female I’ve ever known.” There was a pause, and then she heard the change in his voice. “Wait, Gallo, stop now--”

  The voice belonged to an angel. Were angels Irish? This one was. She was floating. But she didn’t want to float. She wanted to keep her feet on the ground. She wanted to reach out and hold on to the police captain.