From Mangia to Murder (A Sophia Mancini ~ Little Italy Mystery) Page 5

  Bright flash bulbs went off as Sophia and the Captain entered the kitchen. Sophia instinctively turned her head away until they stopped.

  “There you are, McIntyre.” The medical examiner, a short, elderly man tore off his gloves, balled them up and handed them to an assistant. “No secret as to what killed this one.”

  Sophia glanced down at Vincenzo’s body. The blood surrounding the wound had started to turn a dark reddish brown. She forced herself to not turn away, but the fact that he was still lying there lifeless, really drove home to her that Vincenzo was gone. Dead. And someone had taken his life right in the middle of her party.

  “At any rate,” the medical examiner resumed speaking, “I’m done here.”

  “Not quite yet, you aren’t.” The police captain nodded toward the corpse.

  What else was there left to do? Sophia had no idea what the protocol for murdered bodies was. Angelo had never been one to talk about his work in any detail, certainly none of the more gory details anyway.

  The medical examiner grinned, an altogether too cheerful expression for the occasion, Sophia thought. True, she’d disliked Vincenzo--quite a bit actually--but his murder was no less a tragedy because of his surly disposition while alive.

  “Right you are, Captain.” He took a fresh pair of gloves from his bag and slipped them on.

  “You might want to turn around, Miss Mancini, while the medical examiner removes the murder weapon.”

  “That’s hardly necessary, Captain. It won’t bother me at all,” Sophia assured him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her slight unease. After all, how bad could it be?

  The medical examiner bent over Vincenzo’s body and closed his hand around the handle. With a quick, fierce move he yanked the knife out. The sight of Vincenzo’s fresh blood on the knife was too much for Sophia. She swooned.

  A moment later, she opened her eyes. To her mortification, she was in the police captain’s arms. She wished she could faint again just to avoid having to face him.

  “Good catch, Captain,” one of the young uniformed cops called from the other side of the room.

  Sophia felt her face grow red as Captain McIntyre released his hold on her. His arm lingered at her waist until she regained her composure.

  “Steady?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Thank you, Captain.” She smoothed her dress and didn’t look up to meet his eye. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  That earned her a laugh. Her face grew red again, this time with annoyance rather than embarrassment. His arms might be strong and steady but his manners left much to be desired if he couldn’t even let her save face.

  The medical examiner slipped the knife into a plastic bag and once again drew off his gloves. “Don’t be embarrassed, Miss. Gruesome business, this is.” He said it with such cheerfulness that Sophia wondered just how long he had been pulling knives out of dead bodies. “I’m off then. My wife and grands are waiting with a nice juicy roast for me. I’ll have a report to you tomorrow afternoon, Captain, but there won’t be any surprises. Obviously the knife drove in far enough and fast enough to cause almost immediate death.”

  Who did this? The question ate away at Sophia. Vincenzo was a large, powerful man. Driving a knife into his back with such force would have required a great deal of strength. Or rage.

  “Go ahead and bag him,” Captain McIntyre instructed his men. “I’ll be in the dining room taking statements.” He turned to Sophia, his look measuring. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, of course, Captain. I’m perfectly fine.”

  “So I saw.”

  She decided to be the bigger person and ignore his sarcasm.

  “What’s our next move?”

  “Our next move?” There was no mistaking the wariness in his voice.

  “You said you wanted my help.”

  “I said no such thing, Miss Mancini. I want you near me not to help me, but so that I can keep an eye on you. I don’t need you sleuthing around and interfering with my work here.”

  “Sleuthing? What an odd word to use, Captain.”

  “Is it now? Aren’t you one of the principals in the Mancini Private Detective Agency?”

  So he knew.

  Why didn’t that surprise her?

  ***

  Once in the dining room, Sophia immediately sought out her brother. She could feel Captain McIntyre’s watchful gaze on her back. He’d reluctantly agreed to let her find Angelo so she could check on Luciano.

  His insistence she remain where he could watch her movements and listen to any conversations she might have was downright insulting, but convenient in its own way.

  “What do you mean he won’t let you leave his side?” Angelo demanded. “Let me talk to him.”

  She laid a hand on her brother’s arm. “Don’t, Ang. It actually might be a good thing, because I’ll be close enough to listen to what he asks people, and how they answer.” The image of Mrs. Featherstone came to mind. “Listen, we’ve got something more important to worry about. When Captain McIntyre and I were outside, Mrs. Featherstone popped up out of nowhere.”

  “Mrs. Featherstone?”

  Sophia resisted the urge to scream. Her brother’s forgetfulness wasn’t his fault but it was going to be the death of her. “Yes, Mrs. Featherstone, the social worker from the court. She was looking for us. She wanted to check on Luciano.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Captain McIntyre sent her away.”

  Angelo smiled. “There’s a bit of good luck.”

  “Good luck? Angelo, she might find out that Luciano was at the scene of a murder. I’d hardly call that lucky.”

  “It’s not our fault someone iced Vincenzo.”

  Iced? Who had he been talking to? She looked around the room. The somber mood appeared to have lifted, replaced by a budding curiosity, if the buzz of conversation was any clue.

  Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Frankie Vidoni standing in his shirt sleeves, arms folded across his chest. He was talking to Maria Acino, who stood with her lace shawl draped over her arm. Her agitation was palpable. She watched them for a moment before turning back to her brother.

  “Were you just talking to Frankie?”

  He nodded. “Interesting man.” Interesting wasn’t the word she would have chosen for Frankie. “He wants to meet with us tomorrow morning.”

  “Why on earth would he want to--” Sophia stopped mid-sentence. Her conversation in the back of Frankie’s car came flooding back to her. What had he said? That he knew something was going to happen? Her eyes widened. Was Vincenzo’s murder what he meant? Questions swirled through her mind like snowflakes in a Chicago snowstorm. “What did you tell him?”

  Captain McIntyre appeared at her side. “Tell who what?”

  Sophia gave her brother an imperceptible shake of head. “We were talking about my grandfather,” she lied, startled by how quickly the untruth came out of her mouth.

  “Your nephew is accounted for then?”

  Angelo nodded. “Luciano’s gone home with my grandfather. O’Brian said there was no reason for them to stay around. Can I be of help, Captain?”

  “Just commit anything of interest you might hear to mind and have a word with me later.” Sophia hoped he wasn’t counting on Angelo for any details. He’d be sorely disappointed. “Right then, Miss Mancini, will you be so kind as to join me at the table in the back of the room? I’m ready to start my interviews.”

  Politely phrased, but she knew an order when she heard one.

  ***

  Eugene Gallo was first on Captain McIntyre’s list of people to talk to. Sophia sat next to the Captain and marveled at Eugene’s calm demeanor.

  “When was the last time you were in the kitchen, Mr. Gallo?”

  Eugene shrugged. “I can’t remember. I don’t wear a watch.”

  “You seem incredibly composed considering that your business partner was just found murdered.” The police captain raised an eyebrow. “You
’re not surprised that someone wanted Mr. Moretti dead?”

  Eugene leaned forward and folded his hands on top of the table. “Of course, I’m most horrified, Captain. Most horrified.”

  “But not surprised?”

  “Completely shocked, I assure you.”

  Eugene’s level tone of voice conveyed little of his supposed shock, Sophia couldn’t help but think.

  “Vincenzo was a talented chef and a vital part of our community. He’ll be greatly missed.” Eugene made the sign of the cross.

  Sophia could hardly believe what she was hearing. Surely Eugene couldn’t believe that anyone was actually going to miss Vincenzo? Were they even talking about the same person? She glanced at the police captain to see if he was buying what Eugene was peddling but his face offered no clue as to his thoughts.

  “Tell me about Mr. Moretti’s enemies.”

  Eugene waved his hands as if to ward off the question. “I don’t believe Vincenzo had any enemies.”

  Sophia longed to ask Eugene if he knew of two people who could each manage to say one kind word about Vincenzo, but she resisted. Captain McIntyre had warned her to remain silent.

  The first chance she had to grill Eugene alone, she was going to call him out on his colorful portrayal of Vincenzo Moretti as a kind, compassionate member of their community. It was a load of rubbish and, even if the police captain didn’t realize it, she did.

  Frankie Vidoni was the next man in the hot seat.

  “You know what I’m about to say don’t you, Captain McIntyre?” Frankie’s demeanor was relaxed, confident, and just a tad challenging.

  “I do indeed, Mr. Vidoni. But you don’t need an attorney to tell me what you might have seen tonight before Mr. Moretti was murdered. Unless you have something to hide, of course.”

  Sophia’s eyes went back and forth between the men as they volleyed questions and answers back and forth with the same intensity of a Wimbledon match. The captain didn’t let up with questions but Frankie didn’t lose his cool or part with a single piece of interesting information.

  “Why were you at this party, Mr. Vidoni?”

  Frankie looked up from his immaculately manicured hands. “Miss Mancini was kind enough to extend an invitation.” He smiled at Sophia. “And I’m not in the habit of refusing such generous requests from my neighbors.”

  “Is that true?”

  Sophia hesitated. There’d been a little more to it than that, but she saw no need to mention the lift Frankie had offered her. “Yes, Captain. I invited him.”

  Frankie’s smile was smug. Match point--Vidoni.

  Maria Acino possessed little of her boyfriend’s serenity.

  “I’m not saying anything until Frankie gets me a lawyer.” She sat tensely, her lace shawl balled in her hands.

  Captain McIntyre merely watched her, tapping his pen against the table top, an air of expectation in his silence.

  “What? Why are you staring at me?” Maria’s voice was dangerously close to a shriek. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “No one said you did.”

  “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

  The captain shrugged. “I was just thinking that a woman with as much experience with death as you have, shouldn’t be so unnerved by one more.”

  Sophia almost felt sorry for her. The woman before her bore little resemblance to the assured, almost cocky, Maria who had stood up to Vincenzo only yesterday. But who was the real Maria Acino? The woman who faced down a fire-breathing Vincenzo or the woman unraveling under the police captain’s scrutiny?

  “Being a widow doesn’t make me an expert on death.” Maria twisted around in her seat. “Where’s Frankie?”

  “Smoking a cigarette,” Sophia offered before she remembered she had been warned to be silent. She shot a quick glance at the captain but his eyes were fixed on Maria.

  “You may join your friend, Mrs. Acino. We’ll be around to talk to you later.”

  Once Maria was gone, Captain McIntyre turned to her.

  “Is there anything you’d like to share before we continue, Miss Mancini? Anything you saw that I need to know about?”

  Sophia bit her lip. Should she mention that Angelo saw Vincenzo’s wife Stella? Thought he saw, she mentally corrected herself. Of course she should tell the police. And she would, just as soon as Angelo was certain that he’d seen Stella.

  She shook her head. “Nothing I can think of.”

  His eyes called her a liar but his next words were more benign. “Let’s hear what your family has to say.”

  Just as she’d guessed, there was no shortage of information that her relatives wished to share with the police. As Sophia sat and listened, her appreciation for her family grew. It truly was amazing how her female relatives were able to be engrossed in a conversation about the prospects of the unmarried women in the family--doubtless she was high on their list--and at the same time still be able to pinpoint where everyone else in the room had been during the time that Vincenzo was murdered.

  It would have been an open and shut case, except for the fact that they each had a different version of the truth.

  “Stop, Orellia, you’re wrong. Dead wrong.”

  Sophia’s Zia Orellia turned to face her younger sister. “Hush, Corella. You’re the one that has got it all wrong. I assure you, Captain, that my version is far more accurate than my sister’s. Don’t you agree Sophia?”

  She almost issued her standard ‘I can’t get in the middle of this argument’ disclaimer that she relied on whenever her relatives wanted to drag her in as referee, but she stopped herself. She’d learned long ago that the best way to navigate treacherous waters was to stay on the shore. She was curious to see if the police captain would sink or swim if he ventured in.

  “Thank you both. Ladies, I have all I need at present. You’ve both been tremendously generous with your information.”

  Sophia darted a quick glance in his direction. If he was being sarcastic, her aunts didn’t appear to notice.

  “Would you care for something to drink? Cappuccino perhaps?” Orellia asked.

  “No, I’m fine, thank you,” Sophia answered.

  “We meant the captain, cara, not you.”

  Now he looked downright smug. Sophia would have been annoyed except that she noticed Sergeant O’Brian slowly guiding her Uncle Nunzio over to the table. She smiled. If Zio Nunzio was true to form, Captain McIntyre would get his.

  “Nothing to drink for me, ladies. Thank you.”

  “Nonsense.” Zia Orellia helped her sister to her feet. She frowned down at him. “You have to want something to eat.”

  The Captain shook his head and lifted a hand in refusal.

  “But you’ve obviously been playing baseball all day,” Orellia insisted, making him seem like an eight-year-old boy instead of a very grown man. “You don’t know what you want. We’ll bring you some biscotti. You like biscotti, don’t you?”

  “Of course he does. What a question,” Corella scolded her sister. “Come, we’ll bring you some to try. Then you can tell us you’re not hungry.”

  Arm-in-arm, they went off toward the sweets table. Sophia couldn’t help but smile. Murder didn’t worry her aunts as much as a man with an empty stomach. To them, that was the true crime.

  “And who is this, Sergeant O’Brian?”

  “I want to know what my rights are,” shouted Zio Nunzio.

  Sophia made a mental note to talk to her cousin Umberto about his father’s hearing aids.

  “Please sit down, sir.” Sergeant O’Brian held a chair out.

  After Zio Nunzio was settled, Captain McIntyre leaned forward and spoke in a slightly raised voice. “We just would like to know what you saw, sir.”

  Zio Nunzio scoffed. “Never mind what I saw. Let’s talk about what I’m seeing.” He pointed to Sophia. “Why are you interrogating this poor girl?”

  “We’re not interrogating Miss Mancini. You needn’t worry on that account.”

  Zio Nunzio c
arried on as if he hadn’t heard, which he probably hadn’t. “Just because she threatened the chef, doesn’t mean she did him in.”

  Sophia groaned. “Oh, Zio, not that again.”

  “Threatened him, did she? Tell me more about that.”

  “Zio,” Andrea shouted from the other side of the room, “chiedi loro quanti agenti di polizia sono italiani?”

  Uncle Nunzio didn’t miss a beat. He looked at Captain McIntyre. “How many of your police officers are Italian?”

  The captain stared in surprise at the change in subject. Sophia shot a look of annoyance at Andrea but he only grinned in response. She’d give him an earful later but this wasn’t the time or place.

  “McIntyre is your name?” Nunzio turned around in his chair and snapped his fingers at Sergeant O’Brian. “Young man. Yes, you. What’s your name?”

  “Sergeant O’Brian, sir.”

  “O’Brian. McIntyre. Humph. No Italian cops on the Harrison Heights police force?”

  Sophia felt almost sorry for the police captain, because Uncle Nunzio was just warming up. Perhaps she should put a stop to the lecture that she knew was coming. After all, Captain McIntyre had saved her from Mrs. Featherstone. She did owe him.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Nunzio beat her to it.

  “I wish to file a complaint with your police captain.”

  “I am the police captain, sir.”

  “Dressed like that?” Uncle Nunzio pointed to his baseball uniform. “So, it’s all fun and games being a police officer, is it?”

  Sophia leaned in closer so that the captain could hear her but her uncle couldn’t.

  “Is it really necessary to question my uncle right now?”

  “Did you threaten Vincenzo?” he shot back.

  “If I did, do you really want to hear Nunzio’s version?”

  A half-smile flashed across his face, but it was gone as quickly as a shooting star.

  An hour and a half later, they were sitting in an almost deserted restaurant, a cup of steaming coffee in front of each of them. Eugene had been given permission to brew a pot of coffee for the police officers who were still there. She could see Angelo standing out front talking with a few officers he knew from his days on the force. Everyone else had been allowed to go home.