Cannoli to Die For Page 5

  As she rolled onto her left side, she thought about her visit to the real estate agency in Summit. She always thought that would be a fun job—poking into people’s houses all day long. There’d been a Help Wanted sign in their window—maybe they were still looking. It might make Frankie feel less pressure if she was bringing in more money. He’d had that scare with his heart—this Tony thing was going to do him no good.

  She’d look into it in the morning.

  • • •

  Lucille didn’t feel any more rested when she woke up the next morning. Even her usual cup of coffee didn’t do much to perk her up. She sat at the kitchen table and picked up the paper Frankie had left out the night before.

  She was flipping through the pages when the phone rang.

  “Lucille, did I wake you?”

  “No, Flo. I’m up.”

  “Did you stop at the real estate agency yesterday?”

  “Yes. It sounds like people didn’t like Dotty too much.”

  Flo snorted. “I’m not surprised. I never liked her myself.”

  “It seems your cousin Joe didn’t like her too much either. He’d been working hard to sell this house, see, but Dotty got her client to buy it. So Dotty ended up with the commission, not Joe. And it sounds like Joe was counting on it.”

  “You don’t think Joe—”

  “No, no,” Lucille said soothingly. “I only told you that on account of it shows what kind of person this Dotty was.”

  “I already knew what kind of person she was. So what’s next? What do we do now?”

  “It seems that real estate agency is looking for some help. I saw the sign in the window. I’m thinking I might take the job myself. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little more money coming in.”

  “But don’t you have to go through training and get licensed and all?”

  “I think they’re only looking for some help around the office, and I have plenty of experience with that.”

  “But you barely know how to work a computer.”

  “How hard could it be? The kids are on them things all the time. You push a couple of buttons. Like they say, you’re never too old to learn. Besides, I didn’t know how to pole dance either, did I?”

  “And look how that turned out.”

  Lucille was silent.

  “What’s the matter?” Flo said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Did I tell you they found the contents of Dotty’s purse in the Dumpster outside the church hall? Richie told me last night.”

  “The contents? What about her purse?”

  “They couldn’t find it.”

  “That’s odd, don’t you think? Was there any money in the wallet?”

  “No, the thief must have taken it.”

  “So they took the money and the purse. Maybe it was because it was one of them expensive bags with initials on them?”

  “Could be. People sell those things on eBay all the time.”

  “I’m going to go over to that real estate agency as soon as I’m dressed. We know Joe didn’t like Dotty none and neither did the lady I talked to yesterday. So maybe there was someone else there who hated Dotty enough to kill her.”

  “Lucille.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be careful.”

  Chapter 7

  Be careful, Lucille thought as she put the Olds in gear. Why was everyone always telling her to be careful? What was going to happen—she was going on a job interview, for chrissake. Still, she sent up a prayer to Saint Dominic of Sora, patron saint against snakes—because for sure there was a snake in the grass here somewhere.

  There was a parking space in front of the Dingledyne, Mingledorff, Hoogerwerf and Rumble Real Estate Agency, but it required parallel parking and Lucille didn’t do no parallel parking. She went around the block and found a space in the same lot she’d parked in the last time she’d been here.

  The receptionist wasn’t in her usual place when Lucille pushed open the door to the agency, and it didn’t look like she’d just taken a break or gone to the little girl’s room. The picture she’d had sitting out was gone, and the desk looked unoccupied and impersonal. Janice Karpinsky was seated at her desk, her telephone receiver tucked between her ear and her neck. She swiveled around and waved to Lucille, mouthing I’ll be right with you.

  A man was seated at one of the desks—he looked to be in his late forties with dark curly hair flecked with gray. Lucille supposed he was Joe Ferrara, Flo’s cousin.

  Lucille took a seat in what passed for the reception area—a love seat, two wing chairs and a coffee table piled with glossy magazines with picture-perfect houses on the covers. Lucille flipped through one of them. There was a photo of an all-white living room, and Lucille had to laugh. That wouldn’t stay white long with little Lucy toddling around. The thought of Lucy made her sad and she slammed the magazine shut and tossed it back on the table.

  She looked up to see Janice waving her over. Janice half rose from her seat as Lucille approached. She smiled broadly.

  “Have you and your husband decided to sell?”

  “Not exactly,” Lucille said, and Janice looked taken aback.

  “What do you mean not exactly?”

  “I’ve got to work on my Frankie some more, see?”

  “If it’s the price, we might be able to list it for a couple of thousand dollars higher, but to be honest with you, I don’t know if we’d get it.”

  Lucille didn’t want to admit that she had no intention of selling her house—they might not give her the job on account of it.

  “Frankie needs a little more time to get used to the idea, that’s all.”

  Janice looked confused. “Most husbands and wives are in agreement on selling their house.” She paused. “Unless it’s a matter of a divorce . . . ?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Lucille said quickly.

  She sent up a prayer to Saint Rita, patron saint of troubled marriages, just in case.

  “Until you’re ready to sell, I don’t see how I can help you.” Janice began fiddling with some papers on her desk.

  “I’ve come on account of the job,” Lucille said. “I saw the notice in the window.”

  “Oh.” Janice’s face cleared. “That would be wonderful. Yesterday was our receptionist’s last day and we haven’t been able to find anyone to replace her.”

  “Great. When would you like me to start?”

  “You are familiar with a computer, I hope?”

  “Sure.”

  Lucille figured she knew a computer when she saw one, and if that didn’t make her familiar, what did?

  “When can you start?”

  “Now.”

  “Oh.” Janice looked startled. “Of course.” She smiled. “Maybe you can start by answering the phone. Dotty was the one who trained our new employees, and since she’s not here . . .”

  And she ain’t never coming back, Lucille thought.

  Janice turned to her right suddenly. “Joe,” she said, waggling her fingers. “This is Lucille, our new receptionist.”

  Joe had been staring at some papers on his desk, but Lucille had the feeling he wasn’t really seeing them.

  He looked up with a slightly dazed look on his face. “Yes?”

  “Meet Lucille,” Janice said again, pointing to Lucille. “Our new receptionist.”

  Joe gave a brief smile. “Hello, Lucille.”

  “You’re Flo’s cousin, aren’t you?”

  Joe looked startled. “Yeah. Second cousin actually. There was some kind of falling out way back so our families weren’t close.”

  “What a shame,” Lucille said.

  Joe nodded and went back to shuffling through the papers on his desk.

  “We might as well get started,” Janice said. She got up from her chair and tugged on her skirt. She motioned toward the reception desk.

  Lucille followed her and took the chair in front of the desk, stowing her handbag underneath. The desk was bare except for a computer monitor, keyb
oard and telephone with more buttons on it than Lucille had ever seen even back when she worked at that insurance company.

  Janice fiddled with a strand of blond hair that had escaped her elaborate French twist. “You do know how to work the phone, right?” She gave a high-pitched laugh. “I’m afraid I can barely handle answering my own phone, so unfortunately I won’t be much help.”

  “Leave it to me,” Lucille said with more confidence than she felt.

  The phone hadn’t rung the whole time she’d been in the office so Lucille figured this was going to be a piece of cake. The thought of a piece of cake made her stomach rumble and she wondered when her lunch hour would be. She figured she’d wait a few more minutes and then ask Janice if she could run get a slice of pizza, seeing as how she’d already figured out that pizza was on her Weigh to Lose diet.

  “If you think you’re okay, I’ll be going back to my desk.” Janice ran a tongue over her glossy pink lips.

  “No problem. You leave it to me,” Lucille said, pulling her chair in closer, ready for action.

  Lucille sat and stared at the telephone, but it remained dark and silent. She twiddled her thumbs, caught herself whistling and immediately stopped and finally settled for looking out the window.

  The wind had picked up and dried leaves from the gutter swirled past the plate glass window. Lucille watched, engrossed, as a woman in a suede jacket tried to tug her poodle away from the parking meter, where it was attempting to lift its leg. When the telephone rang, she jumped.

  Two lights were blinking at once. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t answer both at the same time. She hesitated then stabbed one of the flashing buttons.

  “Yo, can I help you?”

  Lucille heard the wheels of Janice’s desk chair shoot across the floor and Janice was suddenly standing in front of her waving her hands and mouthing something Lucille couldn’t make out.

  The person on the other end hung up, and by then the other line had stopped ringing.

  “What?” Lucille said as Janice continued to stare at her.

  “You’re supposed to say Dingledyne, Mingledorff, Hoogerwerf and Rumble, may I help you please?”

  What a mouthful, Lucille thought. “Sure, sure, fine. No problem.”

  Janice sighed and went back to her desk.

  Lucille waited but long minutes went by and the phone still hadn’t rung. She pressed a couple of buttons on the computer and it sprang to life. She fiddled with the mouse—pointing and clicking at random—when all of a sudden a picture of a half-naked man came up on the screen.

  Lucille felt her face getting red as she clicked the mouse furiously trying to get rid of the photo before anyone noticed.

  The telephone rang and Lucille abandoned her attempts to clear the screen on the computer. She picked up the receiver and wet her lips.

  “Hello, Mingledyne, Dingledorff and Tumble. How can I help you?”

  She had the feeling she’d missed a name but there wasn’t nothing she could do about it now.

  “Joe Ferrara,” a gravely voice on the other end said.

  He sounds mean, Lucille thought as she continued to stare at the phone. How on earth was she going to transfer the call to Joe? Maybe he could come over to the desk and answer it?

  A wave of perfume washed over Lucille and she turned around to see Janice barreling down on her.

  “I don’t know much about the phones, but it looks like you want to transfer that call,” she said.

  “Yeah. This here’s for Joe.” Lucille jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

  Janice pushed a couple of buttons with a long pink fingernail and suddenly the phone in back of them began to ring.

  “Joe Ferrara here,” they heard Joe say.

  “Thanks,” Lucille said.

  Janice gave a tight smile and walked back to her desk.

  “Who is this?” Joe said.

  Lucille thought he sounded panicked—or maybe even scared. She swiveled her chair slightly so she could hear better.

  “But I don’t have it yet,” Joe wheedled. “No, no, I’ll get it, don’t worry. Sure, sure, please don’t . . .”

  Joe was silent. He sat staring at the telephone receiver in his hand before replacing it in the cradle. He got up from his chair, sending it shooting in back of him, and dashed out the front door. Lucille saw him fish a cigarette from his pocket as soon as he was out on the sidewalk.

  What was that all about? Lucille wondered. It sounded like someone had been threatening Joe. She wondered what they wanted. Money? That was probably it. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted?

  Lucille spun her chair around.

  “Yo, Janice.”

  Janice looked up, the skin between her brows puckering. “Yes?”

  “You know that house you told me about that Joe thought he’d sold, but Dotty snuck in there ahead of him?”

  “Yes. What about it?”

  “What happens now? I mean with Dotty dead and all.”

  Janice pursed her lips. “Good question. They haven’t closed on the property yet so I guess Joe will take over from here on out.”

  “Does that mean he’ll get the commission on the place?”

  Janice shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  And if that didn’t give Joe Ferrara a motive for Dotty’s murder, Lucille didn’t know what did.

  Chapter 8

  By the time Lucille got out of work at three o’clock, she was starving. Janice hadn’t said nothing about a lunch break and Lucille didn’t want to seem pushy on her first day.

  Flo hadn’t had lunch either since Dr. Hacker’s office had been very busy, and she agreed to meet Lucille at the Old Glory for a bite to eat.

  Lucille was already at the restaurant when Flo arrived. She’d checked out the menu and decided that she’d have the sliced turkey on white bread with gravy. She pulled the card from Weigh to Lose out of her purse and went over the columns again. Turkey was meat so that was okay. She was allowed one slice of bread a day so that was okay, too. Gravy wasn’t on the card anywhere that she could see, but it was a liquid, right? And she was allowed unlimited quantities of water or non-caloric beverages. It said so right on the card. Water was liquid and gravy was a liquid so she figured gravy had to be the same thing, which meant she could have it on her diet.

  The waitress was approaching the table, pad in hand, when Flo arrived.

  “Do you know what you want?” Flo asked as she picked up a menu.

  “Yeah.” Lucille turned to the waitress. “I’ll have the hot sliced turkey on white toast with mashed potatoes.”

  Flo’s eyebrows went up. “I thought you were on that diet.”

  “I am.”

  “Mashed potatoes? I doubt mashed potatoes are on your diet.”

  Lucille raised her chin. It was just like Flo to be critical. “Potatoes are a vegetable, aren’t they?”

  Flo shrugged and handed the menu to the waitress. “I’ll have the diet plate.” She patted her stomach. “I have to look good for my wedding.”

  “I think Richie will have you no matter what.”

  “You have to have some pride, Lucille.”

  Maybe that’s what she was missing, Lucille thought—pride. Sure, she cared how she looked, but you had to be realistic. You weren’t ever going to be twenty again.

  “How did your day at the real estate agency go?”

  “Wait till I tell you what I found out.”

  Flo leaned closer across the table. “What?”

  “It’s like this, see. I was in charge of answering the phones, so when this call came in for your cousin Joe, I figured I’d better listen in. In case I learned something,” Lucille added.

  “And?”

  “The guy on the phone had a real mean voice.” Lucille shuddered. “And Joe didn’t seem none too happy to hear from him either.”

  “Well, what did he say?”

  “I don’t know what the man said, but whatever it was, it upset Joe to no end.”

  “Real
ly?”

  Lucille nodded. “It sounded like the guy was demanding money—Joe asked the man to give him more time.”

  “Time to get the money?”

  “That’s what I figured. Joe was kind of pleading with the guy when the guy hung up on him.” Lucille snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

  “So Joe owes somebody money.”

  “Yeah, and it don’t sound like he borrowed it from the bank.”

  “But what does that have to do with Dotty?”

  “Janice told me that with Dotty out of the picture, Joe would take over the sale of that house the two of them was fighting over. And Joe would get the commission.”

  “Which it sounds like he needs if he owes money.” Flo twirled the salt shaker around and around. “Sheesh, Lucille. Joe and I might only be second cousins and maybe our fathers didn’t get along, but—”

  “Family is family,” Lucille said. “I know what you mean.”

  “Still, I ought to tell Richie about this.” Flo unwrapped her straw and plunged it into her diet soda.

  “I’ll tell you what.” Lucille spread her napkin on her lap. “Give it a couple of days and you and I will do a little investigating—you know, poke around a bit. And when we find the real killer, it won’t matter whether you told Richie about Joe or not.”

  “What if we find out that Joe really did do it? What then?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  • • •

  Lucille was scheduled to work at the agency the next day. She was a little nervous, what with the phone being so confusing and all, but was also looking forward to it. She wondered if she should get herself a pantsuit like she’d seen other big-shot women wearing. It would make her look more professional.

  Today she had to settle for her old clothes—a pair of black pants and a white blouse. A scarf would look nice, she thought as she surveyed herself in the mirror, but the only ones she had were wool and meant to keep your neck warm in the winter. You didn’t need to wear no scarf to cook and clean for your family.