Alibis & Arranging Read online

  ″I say that I wish dog statues could talk.″ Joy shook her head.

  ″Sadly, Emmanuel can't.″ Aurora hugged the dog to her chest. ″You know, this will sound crazy, but I'm becoming kind of fond of him.″

  ″Crazy? It's par for the course at this point. This whole dog disappearing, you getting conked on the head, Hilda dying episode is crazy. All of it. The world's gone cuckoo.″ Joy twirled a finger around her head. ″I need a nice, thick shake to cheer me up. Or a drink. What do you say?″

  ″I'm still on meds, so no alcohol. But I'll take that shake,” Aurora agreed. ″Maybe a frappe? Think Cafe Ricci is still open?″

  ″I'm sure of it. Besides, Aunt Giulia and Uncle Pietro will love to fuss over you. I had to restrain them from bringing the entire clan over and parking in front of the hospital.″ Joy grinned. ″Speaking of crazy.″

  ″Don't be mean. I love that they care so much.″ Aurora smiled.

  ″Well, sure. But they should care from three steps back, I feel.″ Joy laughed. ″Well, maybe not. The other night, they all showed up at the house when Chief Brooks wanted to talk.″

  ″Did you know Chief Brooks is retiring?″ Aurora asked. ″He came to interview me early this morning. He had his replacement with him.″

  ″Oh yeah? What's that guy like? Some old, graying raven, I'd bet,″ Joy said. ″For all his flaws, Brooks was a nice guy. I hope this new fella doesn't try and boss us all around.″

  ″I didn't really pay attention to him.″ Aurora shrugged. ″But he looked…tough. Like he can take care of himself in a nasty crowd.″

  ″Bent River doesn't really need tough,″ Joy said. ″Someone too rigid would ruin the equation here. We need someone who understands that when Uncle Beppe gets drunk, he needs a night in the tank and then a quick release. Not a proper criminal procedure. Or when JoJo and his wife throw plates at each other, they just need a talking to. This guy…I hope he gets that not everything is about arrests and numbers in a town this small. Chief Brooks wasn't the greatest investigator in the world, but he knew community relations.″

  ″Your Uncle Beppe doesn't get drunk any more, though,″ Aurora pointed out.

  ″I know. I'm proud of him. I didn't really believe he'd stay sober, but it's been different this time. He’s really changed.″ Joy smiled.

  ″Did he tell you about his plans to run Philbert as mayor?″

  Joy snorted. ″Why not? It's not like the mayor of Bent River has a huge job to do or something. It's mostly just appearing at photo shoots or judging a children's contest now and then.″

  ″You're right,” Aurora said. ″The world is cuckoo. Or, at least Bent River is.″

  They arrived at Cafe Ricci and Aurora hopped out while Joy hunted for a parking space. As soon as she stepped into the cafe, the buzz of conversation stopped and all faces turned to her. Aurora felt her face color up a little. This was like being on a stage and expected to make a speech. She was suddenly very conscious of the large bump in the middle of her forehead.

  ″Um, hi,″ she said to no one in particular.

  Aunt Giulia sprang forward like a protective bulldog and ushered her to a seat at the counter. Uncle Pietro snapped a dishcloth off his shoulder and gave a pointed glare to his patrons, all of whom immediately and meekly went back to their own food.

  ″Don't get shy,″ Aunt Giulia said. ″Everyone's just worried about you, that's all.″

  ″But I've told them not to pester you.″ Uncle Pietro slid a slice of strawberry pie to Aurora. ″Aunt Giulia saved this for you. Last piece. It's Jonah's strawberries, you know.″

  ″Thank you,″ Aurora said meekly, still feeling awkward. Both Aunt Giulia and Uncle Pietro were looking at her as though she were the runt puppy in a litter. It was a look that was part clinical, part parental and completely new for Aurora.

  ″It's that brat, Joy,″ Aunt Giulia said. ″She's the one who dragged you into trouble, don't I know it. I''ll have a word with her, you see if I don't.″

  ″Now, Giulia, let's be reasonable. Joy couldn't have known that someone would bop Aurora on the head.″

  ″No?″ Aunt Giulia raised an eyebrow as though she knew better. ″I know that girl. She's never managed to stay out of trouble for more than a day.″

  The door burst open and Joy walked in with a smile on her face. She greeted everyone as though they were old friends and, mostly, they were. She slapped a man on the back, was offered and sampled a piece of ravioli from another table, pointed a finger gun at a third person and slowly threaded her way down to where Aurora was sitting.

  ″Phew. We really need to get more parking downtown,″ Joy said. ″I had to walk two blocks. Hi Uncle, Aunt.″

  Aunt Giulia sniffed at her.

  ″She thinks this is all your fault,″ Aurora said as way of explanation, gently touching the bump on her head.

  Joy sighed. ″I guess she's right. Ok, Aunt Giulia. Whatever you feed Aurora goes on my tab as punishment.″

  ″I gave her your piece of strawberry pie,″ Aunt Giulia said.

  ″You did not!″ Joy was horrified. ″That's…that's…inhuman!″

  ″Serves you right, dragging people where they don't belong. I saw you whispering with Rita the other day outside church. This all has something to do with—″

  Joy shushed her aunt and gave a look over her shoulder. ″Never mind that now. Can we talk about it later? In private?″

  ″You ought to be ashamed,″ Aunt Giulia said. ″Don't drag her into your investigations. Aurora isn't a hard-head like you, you know.″

  ″Oh, I think that bump proves that.″ Joy grinned.

  ″It really isn't Joy's fault,″ Aurora protested. As if to prove it, she slid her plate halfway to Joy and handed her a fork. ″We're splitting this.″

  Joy gave her a broad smile. ″Now that's a sacrifice only a true friend would make. Thank you.″

  ″Hey! I said we're splitting it. Don't take such a huge forkful,″ Aurora protested.

  They were talking and laughing together, jostling for a bigger piece of the pie, when a loud crash outside startled them. They heard shouts and the sound of running feet. Joy was out of her seat and out of the cafe in the time it took Aurora to even register that something bad had happened.

  The cafe emptied out onto the sidewalk. Aurora made her way through the gathered crowd, a sick feeling in her stomach. A car had crashed into a lamp post. A familiar, bottle-green Ford. Joy and another man were already pulling someone out of the wreckage.

  But the body looked horribly still.

  16

  The Crash

  The rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur for Joy. It felt like every time she blinked, she was in a new room. Sometimes in a hospital hallway, sometimes in the chief's office down at the station. Adrenaline was still washing through her in giant waves. She took a deep breath and focused.

  Alright. Teresa was dead. She'd crashed her car into a lamppost and died instantly. Correction: she'd crashed Jonah's car into a lamppost and died instantly. Joy felt sick when she thought of it. She and another man had helped pull the body out of the wreckage but, even as she administered CPR, Joy knew that there was nothing to be done.

  She blinked and forced herself back into the present. She was sitting in Chief Brooks' office and he was going to come interview her any moment now. Just a matter of routine. She looked down at her wristwatch, which seemed to be running slow. Surely it couldn't be only an hour since she and Aurora had shared a piece of pie together at Cafe Ricci. Yet it was. Joy would have guessed that eons had passed. She sighed and wished she weren't alone. Sitting around like this made her nervous. The adrenaline in her system demanded that she jump out of her chair and go find the killer right now.

  Because surely there was a killer here. Teresa's accident was no coincidence. Someone had sabotaged the car deliberately. Joy was almost certain of it. The bodies were beginning to stack up now. Which meant that the mystery killer was getting spooked by something. But what?

  The d
oor creaked open behind her and Joy jumped out of her chair. ″Chief Bro…″ She paused halfway. The man in the doorway held two cups of coffee and was definitely not Chief Brooks.

  ″Sorry, the chief's gone down to the morgue,″ the man said. ″He asked me to interview you.″

  ″And you are?″ Joy accepted the coffee, glad to have something that would hide the shakiness of her hands.

  ″Leo Finley.″ He gave her hand a brisk shake and went around the table to sit opposite her. ″I'll be taking over as chief of Bent River PD soon.″

  ″Oh, yes. I'd heard.″ Joy took a sip of her coffee and examined the man carefully. It was good to focus on something other than the horrible sound of the crash, which seemed to play over in her head in an unending loop. In her mind, she catalogued him the way an artist would look over a still life - the more details she had, the better she'd be able to write her next piece. Chief Brooks getting replaced would mean a front page headline in the Bent River Bulletin.

  Leo Finley wasn't a very tall man, but he was broad. Joy wouldn't have blinked twice if he'd introduced himself as a bouncer or a linebacker. His forehead, jaw and neck all gave the impression of a singular thickness. The man had the looks of a brick wall reinforced with concrete. His eyes never stayed still, however. They had a tendency to bounce arouond the room as he talked, never really looking directly at his subject. Tough and impatient - not such great qualities for a police chief in Bent River, Joy mused.

  ″So.″ Leo cleared his throat. ″You're Joy Russo, local reporter. You were sitting inside Cafe Ricci when the crash happened on Main Street.″

  ″Right. I didn't see it happen, I just heard the crash. The car was in bad shape.″ Joy shook her head. ″I knew in my gut that Teresa was probably gone as soon as I saw the mess.″

  ″You helped pull her out.″ There was an element of admiration in his voice.

  ″Yeah. Tommy Anderson from the grocer's helped.″ Joy sighed. ″But it wasn't any use, was it? She was gone.″ Joy looked down at her coffee, which was going cold.

  ″Did you know her well?″ Leo asked.

  ″In passing. Just as much as I know everyone else in town. But...″ Joy sighed. ″Listen, has Chief Brooks said anything to you about Hilda's death? Hilda Braithwhite?″

  ″He hasn't mentioned it yet.″

  ″Well, maybe I should be speaking to Chief Brooks then,″ Joy said. ″I think this is connected.″

  ″Are you sure it's not just your reporter's instinct? Looking for a deeper meaning in randomness?″ Leo asked.

  Joy bristled. ″I'm perfectly aware about the difference between cooking up a fantasy and sniffing out reality.″

  ″Right.″ His eyes were focused on her now. ″So tell me all about it.″

  ″Like I said, maybe I should wait for Chief Brooks. If he didn't think it necessary to tell you, maybe I shouldn't tell either.″ She crossed her arms over her chest. She saw Leo's face pull down into a grimace. But instead of being annoyed at her, he gave her a gentle smile instead.

  ″Alright. As you wish. How about you tell me your impressions of Teresa, in general?″

  ″Oh.″ Joy had been unknowingly readying herself for a fight and felt kind of disappointed when he didn't give it to her. She blamed it on the adrenaline that was still flowing through her system. ″Well…there's not that much to tell. Teresa was an accountant. A good one, from what I hear. Some of the richest families in town hired her. She lived alone, as far as I know.″

  ″Did she have a drinking habit?″ Leo asked.

  ″No,″ Joy said.

  ″You seem very confident about it.″ Leo leaned forward.

  ″Well...″ Joy hesitated. She didn't want to say why she was confident. When Leo simply waited for her to talk, she finally gave in. ″The truth is, my uncle is trying to get sober. Well, he's been sober for a while now. Early on, I drove him to one of his AA meetings. Teresa was there, too. I don't want to spread that around, everyone's entitled to their privacy, right?″

  ″That's good of you.″ Leo smiled. ″Yes, everyone is entitled to their privacy. But alcoholics often fall off the wagon, you know.″

  ″I don't know. Maybe they do. But, whenever I saw her at parties, she never had beer or wine in her hand. Always a Coke.″ Joy shrugged. ″Besides, she looked well put together, you know? Not...″

  ″Have you heard the term ‘functional alcoholic’? People can be dependent on a substance and never look like they are,″ Leo said. He steepled his fingers together.

  ″Are you saying that's the cause of death? She crashed her car because she was drunk? In broad daylight?″

  ″Well, initial testing in the morgue suggested a large volume of alcohol in her blood. That's what the chief went to talk to them about.″

  ″No. I'm telling you - the chief will tell you, too - it's linked to Hilda Braithwhite.″

  ″There's that name again,″ Leo said. ″Tell me about her.″

  ″I'd rather Chief Brooks did. It doesn't seem like it's my place,″ Joy said. ″Listen, if you've got nothing else you want from me, mind if I go? I…I don't feel so great.″

  Leo looked reluctant, but nodded.

  Just before she left, Joy turned around to look at Leo. ″So, if it were up to you, you'd chalk this up as a tragic accident, then?″

  Leo nodded. ″That's what the evidence seems to indicate.″

  ″The problem with evidence is that it can be manipulated,″ Joy said. ″There's something deeper going on here, I'd bet on it.″

  17

  Breaking The News

  Joy whistled a tune out loud as she entered Uncle Beppe's farm. Next to her, Aurora suppressed a shudder. Uncle Beppe was the kind of man who was interested in the whole world. He loved animals, and there was always an injured bird or two nesting somewhere in his kitchen. He loved photography, and every inch of his walls were plastered with close-ups or landscapes that he found interesting. Then there was his interest in mechanics, which meant a spare part or two covered in grease would often be displayed as a centerpiece on his dining room table. Joy, used to it all, bypassed the mess and headed to the basement where she knew she'd find Uncle Beppe. If she'd had a choice, her house would probably have looked the same. In fact, before Aurora came into her life, it had.

  Aurora had to clutch one hand in the other to keep from tidying it all up as she passed by. She followed Joy quietly down the dimly-lit stairs.

  Uncle Beppe was sitting on a work bench, using a knife to carve something out of a piece wood. He dropped the piece when Joy and Aurora came in.

  ″Tilly's birthday surprise.″ He grinned. ″I'm making her a wooden portrait of her. It'll have her favorite things carved on it, too. See here? That's Tilly's house. That's her bike. That's a symbol from her favorite video game.″

  ″She's going to love it.″ Joy smiled. ″I can't wait to see the look on her face.″ Then, her face turning grave, she sat down next to her uncle. ″Uncle Beppe, I wonder if you've heard the news yet? About Teresa.″

  ″Teresa?″ Uncle Beppe frowned. ″What about her?″

  ″She…passed away earlier. Car crash.″ Joy paused. ″The cops suspect she was drinking.″

  Uncle Beppe looked astonished, then his face grew sad. ″I can't believe it. I simply can't. Not Teresa!″

  ″I’m sorry.″ Joy held his hand and sat with him. Aurora pulled up a chair nearby and patted his back. Beppe tried to pull himself together and failed.

  ″Well, that's terrible news,″ he said. ″Just terrible. She was so young. She had so much life in her still. Drunk driving, you say?″

  ″She was in AA with you, wasn't she?″ Joy asked.

  Beppe looked startled. ″Now how did you find that out? It's supposed to be private.″

  ″I saw her once while dropping you off. Nothing's really private in Bent River, is it?″

  ″Some things are,″ Beppe said.

  ″How long had she been sober?″ Joy asked.

  ″Five years. I really thought she was
one of the success stories.″ Beppe sighed. ″Just shows. The demons of drink can overtake you at any time.″

  ″Uncle, I don't think…I mean…I’m not sure, but I feel like maybe someone is behind it all,″ Joy said.

  Uncle Beppe looked at her sharply. ″What are you saying?″

  ″I don't want to go into it too much, but I think the same man who hit Aurora on the head might have slipped alcohol into Teresa's drink somehow and ended up killing her,″ Joy said. ″That's why I came to you. I wanted to ask you if Teresa had mentioned anything in your meetings recently. Like, was something or someone on her mind?″

  Beppe stiffened. ″I really don't know if I should be telling you this. It was all private.″

  ″Please Uncle Beppe. I'm not after gossip, I'm after justice.″

  ″It won't go beyond this room then?″ Uncle Beppe asked.

  ″Not unless I have to tell the cops,″ Joy promised.

  ″I promise I won't tell anyone,″ Aurora agreed.

  ″Alright. Teresa never named names, but she had an ex she really loved,″ Beppe said. ″She was convinced that the two of them would marry and start a family together. But he left her for another woman. She started drinking after they broke up. She said that, even after getting sober and knowing he was bad for her, part of her desperately wanted to get back with him again.″

  Aurora's eyes widened and she looked over at Joy. Both were remembering the farmer's market and Teresa's conversation with Jonah. Was Jonah the ex she'd been referring to?

  ″But she was trying her best to control her emotions,″ Beppe said. ″It's hard though. Sometimes when love grips you, it never lets you go. It's worse than alcohol in that way.″ He sighed. ″I should know.″

  Joy gave his hand a squeeze again. Uncle Beppe had had his own heart broken in the past, and he'd never really gotten over it. He was only starting to now.