Crumbled to Pieces Page 4

  Brian took off his hat and scratched his head. "Strange. That makes me think the car didn't even attempt to stop."

  I didn't like what he was implying. "Is there a way to determine who might have done this? Could some type of test be done on Allegra's body?"

  Brian placed the pad back inside his pocket. "An autopsy will be done on Mrs. Fiato right away, of course." He narrowed his eyes at me. "And without your father being present. Her clothes will be removed and placed in a bag, and then they'll be sent to a police lab where they're checked for DNA."

  I scrunched my face into a frown, not entirely understanding. "DNA? But Allegra wasn't attacked."

  He shook his head. "It's not about her DNA. I meant the car's DNA—well, in theory. We should find paint chips on Mrs. Fiato's body to help us discover the make and model of the vehicle. We might not be able to determine the exact year but can usually come close. Then we can run a check through the DMV for cars like that in our area and expand it if necessary. Hopefully we'll find it based on the information, though."

  "Wow, that's fascinating," Josie breathed and then glanced over at me. "What's wrong, Sal?"

  "I'm not sure," I stammered. "What you said, Brian, about not hearing the car's brakes. Is it possible…that someone might have done this…on purpose?"

  A muscle ticked in Brian's jaw. "Sally, it happened right in front of your bakery. The woman had one of your fortune cookies in her hand. I've never been superstitious before in my life, but—in answer to your question—yeah, I'd say it's a definite possibility."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Why can't we wait outside?" Josie wanted to know. "I hate these things. Look, I'm sorry the woman is dead, but I feel like a phony being here. I couldn't stand the sight of her."

  In panic, I glanced around the inside of the funeral home, hoping no one had heard. "Shh. I already told you, my grandmother asked me if I would pick her up. Mrs. G's going to ride with Allegra's niece back to her office. You can go ahead and leave now if you want, and I'll drive Grandma's car back to her house. Mike can pick me up there."

  "Never mind," Josie sighed as she signed the guest registry. "I'll stay."

  I helped myself to a Mass card. It was three days after the fatal accident, a muggy and humid Tuesday evening. Even though the air conditioner hummed away at a comfortable level, sweat had started to pool on my forehead. I'd have never admitted it out loud, but I felt the same way as Josie. I didn't want to be here and wasn't looking forward to seeing Nicoletta. The feeling was probably mutual. We'd closed the shop an hour early so we could arrive before the viewing ended at seven o'clock.

  Nicoletta had shut the doors forever on Allegra's candy and rip-off cookie shop immediately after her death. I'd never known of a business that had closed the same day as it opened before. She'd also been the one to arrange the funeral, which I thought was a bit strange since Allegra had three children. Two of them, Anna and Enzo, only lived a few hours away in New Jersey. From what Grandma Rosa had told me the other day, Allegra and her husband had come from Sicily to America when they were newlyweds and barely out of their teens. They'd settled in Jersey and raised their family then had returned to Italy when their children were grown. Violet, daughter and alleged baker, lived in what Nicoletta declared was the Devil's favorite city, Las Vegas.

  "I can't believe Allegra's other daughter isn't coming," Josie said, almost as if she could read my thoughts as we looked at pictures of Allegra and her family displayed on an easel next to the podium. "Who doesn't go to their own mother's funeral?"

  "It's awful." My own mother was something short of a nutcase, but I still loved her dearly. Such uncaring behavior was beyond my comprehension. Then again, I didn't know the entire story. Maybe Violet had another reason for not coming. I couldn't bear to think about losing my parents or my beloved grandmother. Sure, we had our differences and argued, but family always came first with us. Violet had told Nicoletta on the phone that she didn't like to fly and New York was too long of a distance for her to travel right now.

  I studied the Mass card in my hands. A young, exotic-looking Allegra stared back at me with dark, calculating eyes—the same eyes that had glared at me menacingly the other day when she'd cursed and spat on my floor. The black-and-white photo depicted her at about 30-years-old, my present age. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back as she stared at the camera, unsmiling, of course. Not much had changed. I shivered and turned my attention to the caption underneath the photo, which consisted of a Bible verse.

  Although I wasn't much of a churchgoer these days, Grandma Rosa had made sure I faithfully attended Sunday school as a child, and this had been one of my favorite verses. From the Book of John: I am the light of the world. He who follows me will not walk in darkness.

  Josie wasn't very religious, less so than me, but she read the verse with apparent interest from over my shoulder. "Get a load of this. Isn't it a hoot? They're comparing Allegra to Jesus now?"

  "I'm not sure that's the intent," I said quietly.

  "Well, I can't think of two people more different," she declared. "Perhaps they should have written: 'Allegra is the darkness of the night. Those who follow her will wallow in intense heat—forever.'"

  I glanced up at her, startled. "Jos! That's a terrible thing to say about the woman. She's dead, remember."

  Maybe we were at fault. Maybe if Allegra had been paying attention and wasn't so distracted by our argument, she would have seen the car approach. Then I remembered our discussion with Brian. Had it really been an accident?

  Josie snorted. "I'm sorry, Sal. Perhaps that was a little cold. But something tells me that even though the woman is dead, she's still going to continue to annoy us like a bunch of mosquitoes on a hot summer day."

  Secretly I was afraid that she might be right. The plague had already started in the form of the media. Allegra's death had generated a lot of local attention, especially when word got out she had perished in front of my bakery with one of my cryptic fortune cookies in her hand. The media always had a field day at my expense. They'd even announced on the news last night what her fortune cookie had said. Your luck will completely change today. Good grief.

  On more than one previous occasion, the newspaper had mentioned Sally's Samples was famous for its original fortune cookies—and unlucky ones. It had served to make customers even more curious about them so that necessarily hadn't been a bad thing. Even though we'd switched locations a year ago because of a fire, the weird messages had followed us. A high school nemesis had dropped dead on my front porch, and then, later on, the building had burned down. At our present location, someone had tried to shoot me, and I'd also ended up locked in the freezer.

  Perhaps the newspaper had taken all this into consideration when they'd proposed a new name for my bakery in yesterday's edition. Sally's Samples was now being referred to as Sally's Shambles.

  "It sounds awful to refer to Allegra like that," I said. "You're lucky my grandmother didn't hear you. She'd say it was blasphemous."

  "There she is now," Josie announced as Grandma Rosa came through the double-wide doorway from the adjoining viewing room. She was dressed in a black skirt and long-sleeved gray blouse. I was sweltering just looking at her, but she appeared as cool and sweet as the iced tea I'd sipped on my way over.

  I never ceased to marvel at the woman. She'd stayed with Nicoletta last night and was doing everything possible to comfort her friend at such a sad time. If I'd been forced to spend an evening with Nicoletta, I might have jumped from the nearest bridge.

  "Cara mia. Hello, Josie." She gave us each a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for coming to get me. I know you would rather not be here."

  "Did Gianna and Johnny come?" I asked.

  Grandma Rosa nodded. "They were here when the service first started. Gianna had to go back to her office tonight, and there was an orientation at Johnny's school." Johnny was a history teacher.

  I noted the sudden pursing of her lips. "What's wrong?"

  My g
randmother glanced around, as if worried someone might overhear us, but we were alone by the podium. "I am worried about Nicoletta. She seems to think there is something more to Allegra's accident."

  I thought of the brake-squealing comment again. "Like what, exactly?"

  "She believes Allegra's death was intentional. When I asked Nicoletta how she knows, she shrimped up. This worries me," Grandma Rosa confessed.

  Baffled, Josie and I looked at each other, and then it slowly dawned on us.

  "The expression is clammed up, Rosa," Josie said.

  She shrugged. "Whatever. I like shrimp."

  "Why would she say something like that?" Josie scoffed. "Who would have a reason to kill dear, sweet Allegra? Except everyone in town, that is."

  "Jos," I warned.

  Grandma Rosa ignored Josie's outburst and pinned me with her somber gaze. "If Nicoletta is correct, she wants me to help her find out who did this. But we are not good detectives like you and Josie. Would you both want to help us?"

  "I'm not sure we'd be much help," I said. If anything, we might make things worse. It had happened before.

  "If anyone can find the truth, it is you," she said simply. "You are a very good sloth."

  I assumed my grandmother didn't really believe that I was lazy and shiftless—at least I hoped not. "You mean sleuth, Grandma."

  She shrugged. "That is good too."

  "Excuse me, Rosa." A tall, slender woman with jet black hair styled in a bob gently touched her arm. "Nicoletta is looking for you."

  The look of weariness was apparent in my grandmother's face. She was going to be 77 years old on my wedding anniversary and, at this moment, looked her age. For the past three days, Mrs. Gavelli had clung to my grandmother like she was a life preserver. Seventy-two hours with that woman had to be torture for anyone, even my long-suffering grandmother.

  Grandma Rosa gestured toward me. "This is my granddaughter, Sally Donovan, and her friend, Josie Sullivan. Girls, this is Allegra's daughter, Anna."

  Anna nodded cordially at us. Her dark eyes were bloodshot and her thin, angular face expressionless. She wore a maroon-colored blouse with black slacks and matching kitten-heeled sandals. Anna was close to six feet in height and towered over my petite five-foot three-inch stature.

  "Nice to meet you." Her face flushed suddenly, and her deep voice was reminiscent of someone who smoked three packs a day. "You're the one who owns the bakery, right? The same building my mother was running hers out of?"

  Now it was my turn to flush. Her tone was sarcastic, as if she intended to mock me. "Uh, yes. That's right. I'm sorry about your mother." Now I was curious what else she might have heard about us from Nicoletta or, possibly, Allegra. I waited to see if Anna might burst out laughing or break down sobbing in my arms.

  Neither one of those scenarios happened. Anna clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shook her head at us. "Boy, you should have run the other way when you saw my mother coming. Why would anyone want to rent to the Devil herself?" Instead of waiting for our response, she made the sign of the cross on her chest, turned on her heel, then crossed into the viewing room.

  The three of us were speechless for a moment. Finally, Josie found her voice. "What the heck was that all about?"

  Grandma Rosa's face was grim. "There was no love lost between Allegra and her children. Of course, I do not know all the details of their relationship but find it very disrespectful she would say such a thing—and at her own mother's service. It is not right."

  "That was disturbing." I shifted my handbag on my shoulder. "I guess we should go pay our respects now."

  "You can meet Allegra's son, Enzo, and say hello to Nicoletta if you like," Grandma Rosa said. "The priest will be giving a talk in a few minutes. Remember, there is no body."

  "Excuse me?" I asked in surprise.

  My grandmother closed her eyes for a second. "There is no body. Allegra is still with the coroner. They are running tests and trying to determine more information about the hit-and-run."

  Confused, Josie stared at her. "How can they hold a wake without her body? It doesn't make any sense."

  "That is what Allegra asked for," Grandma Rosa said. "We are not certain how long it will be until they release her body. In her will she stated she wished to be cremated when her time came. Allegra did not want to be laid out for everyone to see. Her son is leaving for Italy sometime next week, so they decided to hold the service now." She nodded at me. "Perhaps you could ask your officer friend how long her body will have to remain."

  "Uh, that might not be a good idea." Brian was probably sick and tired of me showing up at every single crime scene he investigated. But there was no way I could ever refuse my grandmother anything. "Dad's already been bugging him. He tried to sneak into the morgue the other night. I think Brian's had it with our family—forever."

  Grandma Rosa studied me for a second. "Perhaps, yes, with most of the family. But there is one person he will never tire of."

  Her words shocked me. Sure, Brian had been interested in me at one point and very persistent, even when I made it clear that I only wanted Mike, but that was ancient history now. Brian was living with Ally and very happy. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

  Her mouth twitched slightly. "He is a friend, no?"

  "Yes," I said evenly. "And that's all he will ever be."

  Grandma Rosa patted me on the arm. "Of course that is how you feel, cara mia. But remember, we cannot change other people's feelings." She walked toward the viewing room and gestured for us to follow. "Come now."

  Josie raised an eyebrow in questioning at me, but I didn't want to get into it. Was my grandmother trying to say Brian was still attracted to me? I was in love with my husband and only my husband. This would make things very awkward between Brian and me. I treasured his friendship and didn't want to lose it. Grandma Rosa had to be wrong about something eventually, and I hoped she'd missed the mark on this one.

  The front door of the funeral parlor opened, and my mother and father stepped into the hallway. I should have expected they would be here. Besides my father's insatiable love of wakes, Nicoletta had been their neighbor for many years, and they'd met Allegra a few times. Perhaps a teeny part of me had hoped they wouldn't show, because wherever they went, bedlam was certain to follow.

  "Hi, sweetheart," my mother crooned and reached over to give me a kiss. She was wearing a strapless, black satin dress that came to about mid-thigh. As usual, she looked spectacular. My mother was always dressed to kill. With her size four figure and lovely face, every man between the ages of 20 and 90 always stopped to look at her. It made me uncomfortable, but my father took it all in stride. On some level, I think he even enjoyed it. He and my mother loved each other deeply, so instead of acting jealous, he proudly showed her off every chance he got.

  No insecurities were present in my parents' 32-year marriage. There was too much weirdness instead. They did as they pleased, marched to the beat of their own drummer, and enjoyed life to its fullest. Sure, they were nuts on some level. Maybe in the grand scheme of life, everyone else was doing things wrong while they were doing it right. Some days I just didn't know anymore.

  My mother beamed at Josie. "Hello, dear. How are the kids?"

  Josie gave her a peck on the cheek. "They're all great, Maria. Thanks for sending over the water guns and the bubble mower. They're having a blast with them."

  "Our pleasure." My mother looked wistful. "I can't wait to do the same thing for my grandchildren. If I ever have any."

  She cast a hopeful sideways glance at me. Normally I would have been upset by her admission. My mother had been putting the baby pressure on me since the first day of my marriage. However, I had a strong premonition that in a week or so, I'd be telling her some news that would put her over the moon. I'd already bought the pregnancy test and only needed to take it. The test might work now, but I wanted to wait a few days to be on the safe side.

  My father rubbed his hands together in glee
ful satisfaction. He loved wakes and anything with a death theme. "We didn't miss anything, did we?"

  "As for you," Grandma Rosa scolded him, "I will not have you upsetting Nicoletta and Allegra's children by asking about the cremation process. You save that stuff for the pazzas who follow you on the stupido blog of yours."

  "Hey," my father protested. "It's not stupid. When I get hold of Steve Steadman, he's going to publish my book. I've got to track that guy down sooner rather than later. I've even been thinking about flying out to see him. Then Stephen King and I will be sharing space together on Amazon."

  Nicoletta was standing next to a small round oak table, which held a portrait of Allegra on it. It was the same photo featured on the mass cards. Nicoletta was flanked by Anna on one side and a bearded, dark-haired man on the other.

  "That is Enzo," my grandmother murmured in my ear. "A bad lot, I am afraid."

  "Does he hate his mother too?" Josie asked.

  Grandma Rosa snorted. "The man is—what do you say—useless. He plays the ponies all the time. His wife divorced him last year because he could not hold down a steady job. He is always being fired. Nicoletta said he was up at Saratoga the other day—you know, the horse-racing town. He has friends there he stays with. All he thinks about is the gambling."

  "Speaking of gambling, what's the real reason Vegas Violet didn't come?" I asked in a low tone. "It sounds like none of Allegra's kids liked her."

  My grandmother's face was somber. "Yes, I am sorry to say you are right, my dear. It is a very sad situation. I have never met Violet, so I cannot tell you much about her."

  "Aw, it can't be that bad," my father protested as his brown eyes surveyed the room. "She doesn't have a big turnout, though. Of course, when my time comes, they'll be lined up down the block."

  My grandmother said something in Italian that sounded like whacko, but I didn't ask for details. As we approached the people at the front of the room, Nicoletta's gaze stayed focused on Josie and me. Her pupils grew in size and threatened to bulge out of her head.