Goddaughter Caper, The Page 5

  Sammy went on. “The key to good business management is to provide a service that’s got a demand for it. Jimmy nailed it. People are distressed when they have a body hanging around. They pay well. So the Last Chance Club…they got more business than they can handle.”

  “Isn’t this sort of illegal?” Nico said. He was twisting a linen napkin in his hands.

  “Embalming and burying isn’t illegal. And Freddie is a licensed funeral worker guy, although I don’t know that he’s kept up his license. Tends to forget things, what with the dementia.”

  Dementia?

  “Once he forgot to dress a guy after the embalming. You wouldn’t believe what a little extra fluid can do to some parts. We don’t do open casket anymore.”

  Nico yelped.

  I tried not to visualize it. I really did.

  “Look, I know you got a thing about certain aspects of the family business,” Sammy said to me. “We got nothing to do with the plugging end of it, doll. I promise.”

  My mind was like a whirligig. Whatever the hell that was.

  “But why? Why would they do this?”

  Sammy’s voice perked up. “Oh. Well, that’s easy. The Last Chance Club. They want to go on a bus trip to Vegas. You know. Hit the tables, see the shows. It costs big bucks to rent a bus to go that distance. Not to mention hotel rooms, and all those buffets. And they need supervision.”

  No argument there.

  “I like Vegas,” said Nico, all eager. “I could supervise.”

  I groaned. “You’ll be doing it on your own then, Nico.” No way was I playing den mother to a bunch of randy pensioners in Sin City.

  Then something else hit me.

  “So that’s what the coffins are for!” I said. “The ones in the chicken coop.”

  Sammy hesitated. I could guess why. I watched his gnarly face. Then something clicked in, and he smiled.

  “You got it. They don’t got a lot of space in the retirement home. So we’re helping them out by storing them at the coop. It’s only for a little while. Got a big shipment coming in soon.”

  Shipment?

  “So they’ll get used up,” Sammy finished.

  Shipment of bodies?

  “I really don’t want to know about this,” I said, hitting my hand against my head.

  “’Course you don’t, doll. You got a lot on your mind, with the wedding and all. Which reminds me. What’s the scoop on Wally the Wanker?”

  “Hold on a sec. One thing first.” It was my turn to smile like the Cheshire cat. “The coffins. They’re from Canton, right?”

  Sammy squirmed. “You figured that out?”

  I nodded. “Great way to smuggle counterfeit money into the country.”

  Now he cursed. “You always were the smart one. Sure you don’t want to join the business? I could use you.”

  “Not a chance,” I said. But I was secretly pleased. “Is it in the satin lining, or is there a false bottom?”

  “False bottom,” Sammy said.

  “What are you talking about?” said Nico.

  I turned to him. “Remember the counterfeit five-dollar bills Carmine got caught passing a few weeks ago?”

  One hand shot to his mouth. “Are we doing…?”

  “I’m not doing anything, Nico. Neither are you. And hopefully neither is Sammy anymore.” I gave him the evil eye.

  Sammy nodded his head in agreement. “That was a bad idea. Lousy quality. Paulo was right. It’s careless not to oversee your own operations.”

  That was another place I didn’t want to go.

  “Let’s move on. Aunt Vera?” I yelled to the back. She came to the swinging door, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

  “Yeah?”

  “Come here for a sec. Bring Uncle Vito. You’ll want to hear this. It’s about Wally.”

  ELEVEN

  Vera and Vito came out to the public area and joined us at the table for six. They sat down. I stood up. I think better on my feet.

  “You gonna tell us what happened with that Wally, Gina? ’Cause I don’t get it. Why dump a body here? It’s a nice place.” Vera fiddled with the apron spread across her ample lap.

  I turned to Sammy. “We’re keeping this between us, right? Not telling the cops unless we have to? ’Cause I can’t prove it, you know. It’s just conjecture.”

  Sammy nodded. “You go, girl.”

  I smiled and leaned forward, putting both hands on the white tablecloth. “Wally the Wanker was making a little extra on the side, peddling OxyContin to the upper classes. Nice work, if you can get it. But then his source started to shut down. Wanted out of it. So Wally resorted to his high-school trade. Remember what that was, Nico?”

  Nico shivered. “Blackmail.”

  All eyes swung to Nico.

  “Sonamabeech.” You could see Aunt Vera calculating what Nico had been in the frame for back then.

  “Got it in one,” I said, straightening up. I talk with my hands a bit, so they need to be free.

  “So. Wally started to blackmail his source because he wouldn’t come through with the dope anymore. And the source didn’t think that was nice. So he took out Wally with a .38.” I flicked my arm to the side. “Doesn’t matter where. Then he dumped the body on the back steps of La Paloma, that noted ‘family’ hangout, when no one was looking.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Vera.

  “The killer hoped the take-out would be put down to us,” Sammy said. His brown eyes were piercing.

  I nodded.

  “Well, that won’t happen. We’ve taken care of it. No body, no crime. Nothing to report.” Sammy sat back and folded his spindly arms. “I’ll spread a rumor that Wally left The Hammer for his health. So all that remains is you naming the killer, sugar.”

  This was the fun part. I grinned and pointed to the ring on my left hand.

  “You know me. I notice jewelry—can’t help it. And that sapphire ring was niggling at me.” I paused for effect. “Doctors make a lot of money, but they don’t make that much. That night in this restaurant, Mrs. Drake was wearing the ring she bought from my store last month. You wanna talk money—that rock makes my twenty-four-grand engagement ring look like a dollar-store bauble. Then this week she shows up at Ricci Jewelers, wanting a pair of matching earrings. The thing about earrings…they come in twos. Double the rocks, so double the price. And she wants to pay cash.”

  I looked at Sammy. The map lines on his face signaled that his brain was in full processing mode.

  “Doctors don’t get paid in cash,” Sammy said.

  I continued. “At the shower, Pinky told us that Sherry Drake and her hubby had just purchased a condo in Scottsdale, Arizona. Lots of money being thrown around quite suddenly. Then I remembered that she—Mrs. Drake—entered the restaurant alone the night Wally was killed. Dr. Drake came in about ten minutes later. That’s because he was dumping the body out back. Then he drove around the front, parked and pretended to just get here.”

  “But—” started Aunt Vera.

  “Wait, Vera. Gina will explain,” said Uncle Vito patiently. His chubby hands rested on his ample belly.

  “What better way to score illicit Oxy than from a bona fide doctor,” Sammy said. “Then the doc refuses to play anymore, and Wally tries to blackmail him. Ah, Wally. You stupid bastard.”

  “He was a blackmailer, Sammy.” Nico had his chin up and his arms crossed. “I know Wally’s dead now, but I can’t feel sorry for him. Even if he was in the family.”

  “That’s why we’re not going to say a word about it,” I said, pulling out a chair.

  “No body, no crime. You see a body around here?” Sammy waved both his arms.

  Aunt Vera looked around the room. “What body? We got another body?”

  Uncle Vito sighed and shook his head.

  Sammy kissed me, reached for a cannoli and left the restaurant. Vera and Vita went back to the kitchen. I stayed sitting with Nico to finish the last cannoli.

  “So. Two down,” I said, after
swallowing the last yummy bite. “I solved the Who Killed Wally case. I figured out the Counterfeit Coffin Caper.”

  Nico smiled. “Well done, Nancy Drew.”

  I met his eyes. “We have one more thing to do.”

  “Tonight? Your car?”

  “Yup. Pick you up at seven thirty. Wear black.”

  TWELVE

  “Thanks for helping out, Pete. I didn’t know who else to ask. The Last Chance Club people will be there. But they’re just too old and frail to do any digging.”

  “I still don’t understand how that box of Seb’s got buried in the graveyard in the first place,” said Pete.

  “Sometimes the greatest mysteries of life are best left that way,” said Nico from the backseat.

  “Nico, that doesn’t make any sense at all,” said Pete.

  “Then my job is done,” Nico said with a smile.

  It wasn’t late at night. It wasn’t even eight o’clock. But already the sky was pitch-black. The city lights blocked out most of the stars.

  We were all wearing black, even Pete. I’d told him it was a requirement. Actually, it was. Chapter 12 of Burglary for Dummies states, “Always wear black for any kind of night job. It doesn’t reflect light and also makes you look pounds slimmer.”

  This could be handy when your arrest photo is plastered all over the front page of the daily newspaper. Italians are a vain lot.

  Of course, Pete and Nico wore black in different ways. Pete looked seriously bad-ass. Nico appeared as if he had walked off the cover of GQ.

  I signaled left and turned my car into the Black Chapel Cemetery. Then I drove down a narrow lane and pulled up behind a white SUV.

  “There they are!” I could see a bunch of short people gathered around an open grave. Mario, Jimmy, Mad Magda and a few other elderly folk were sitting on folding lawn chairs. I made out several more bodies—larger male ones—on the other side of the grave.

  I got out of the car and started to pick my way through the gravestones. Pete and Nico followed.

  “Oh Christ, Lou. It’s the crazy broad.” Bertoni’s voice! I would know it anywhere.

  Yup, there he was, the whole skinny, greasy package. He was standing beside the rest of the cousins from Buffalo. Lou, the quiet one. And Joey, who used to follow me around with a supersize crush. They were, of course, wearing black.

  At least Joey I could tolerate. He was as big as a Brinks truck, with a surprising heart of gold.

  “Hi, Joey,” I said, waving a hand. “How’s things?”

  He walked over to us. The guy was massive, even taller than Pete.

  “Hey, Gina,” he said, nodding his round head. “Same ole, same ole. Good to see you, Pete.” He held out a big hand, and Pete shook it.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping the Last Chance Club. We’re the muscle. What about you?”

  “Hey! He’s got a shovel.” Bertoni pointed at Pete. “Are they horning in on our business, Joey?”

  Damn that Bertoni!

  “We’re not doing anything!” I yelled back. “I’m here to get my box. It got buried last night.”

  Joey looked at me oddly. “You bury boxes in the graveyard.”

  “Not usually,” I said. “This was a… special occasion.” Okay, so that sounded ridiculous. “And actually, I didn’t bury it. I think you guys did.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Bertoni. “We planted a coffin last night. Why are you digging up a body?”

  “It isn’t a body! That was all a mistake. Mario got it wrong. You took the wrong box from my store.”

  “So what’s in the box then, if not a body?” said Joey.

  “Never mind,” I said primly. “It’s not your box.”

  “Hey, fat bum, give. What’s in the box?” said Bertoni.

  “Who are you calling ‘fat bum’?” Now I was mad. “You greasy piece of festering weasel. I’ll ‘fat bum’ your face with a two-by-four!” Both of my hands went into fists, and I stomped forward.

  “Hey, Gina.” A big hand landed on my shoulder. It was Joey’s. “Cool it. Ignore Bertoni. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I always loved your fat bum.”

  Pete guffawed.

  I got angrier. I wrestled out of Joey’s hold.

  “It’s not—oh for crissake.” My hand slapped my forehead. “I don’t have to explain my butt to you guys. Jeez, why do I have you morons for relatives?”

  I flung my arms around like a windmill. “All I want is to live a normal life. Run my shop. Get married. Go on a little honeymoon. Have a few dozen kids. Is that too much to ask? And then you losers have to go and take away the wrong box—”

  “What box?”

  We all turned. The voice came from several feet behind us, and I’d heard it recently.

  Cripes! The cops.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Gina Gallo. The girl with the longest confession.”

  “That’s getting old, Spense.” I rolled my eyes. “What did you do, follow us here?”

  Pause. “Yeah, yeah. Like I don’t have enough to do.”

  “You did follow us. Have you got a tail on me?” Now that pissed me off.

  Bertoni hooted. “Has she got a tail on her! Oh yeah.”

  “Shut UP!” I yelled like a harpy.

  “Stay away from her, Spense,” Pete growled. He stepped in front of me. Nice thought, but it meant I had to move around him like we were dancing in order to see.

  “And Malone from the Star. Big surprise. So what brings you to Black Chapel Cemetery in the middle of the night? I can’t wait. This is gonna be good.”

  “It’s not the middle of the night, and we’re not robbing graves,” I explained patiently.

  “We’re digging up treasure,” Nico said.

  If looks could kill, mine would have struck Nico dead on the spot.

  I didn’t know the tall cop standing next to Spense. He looked baffled.

  “Digging up treasure. ” Spense tsk-tsked. “Grave robbing. You’ve really come down in the world, Gina. And trespassing to boot.”

  “Not trespassing.” I thought quickly. “We own this.”

  “What? The cemetery?”

  “Not the whole thing.” I swallowed hard. “But this section of it is all Gallo. Gallo plots.”

  “Just waiting for us all to die,” said Nico.

  I nodded vigorously.

  Spense didn’t look convinced.

  “So you’re digging up treasure on your own gravesite. Mind explaining how it got there in the first place?”

  “He buried it.” Three voices rang out. Nico pointed at Joey. Joey pointed at Bertoni. Bertoni pointed at Mario.

  “And why did you bury treasure in a graveyard?”

  “We thought it was a body,” Bertoni said.

  “Oops,” muttered Nico.

  “Whose body?” barked Spense.

  “Mine,” Jimmy piped up. He had wandered over from the other side of the hole.

  “But you’re not dead yet,” said Spense. There was an unnaturally high pitch to his voice. I was starting to feel sorry for him.

  “We misplaced it,” said Jimmy, all grumbly like. “I’m always losing things.”

  “You misplaced your body.”

  Pete chortled then. Really, I was wondering how he had managed to hold off for so long.

  “Yeah. And then we found it again,” said Jimmy. “It’s over here.” He signaled with a skinny arm.

  We all traipsed over to the open grave. Mad Magda, Great-Aunt Rita, Mrs. Pesce and another old guy sat on their walker chairs on the other side of the hole, waiting. One of them gestured into the hole.

  “Poor Dino,” Mad Magda crooned. “So sad to go that way.”

  “What way?” said Spense.

  Crap. None of us knew. There was an awkward silence.

  “You know. Like, he didn’t recover,” Nico said helpfully. “He died from it.”

  “And now he’s dead,” said Bertoni, nodding his greasy head.

  Pete
made a sound like a donkey.

  “I heard he died of heart failure,” said Rita.

  “Two slugs from a .38 will do that,” whispered Joey.

  Nico squeaked beside me.

  “Don’t he look natural,” said Mrs. Pesce hastily.

  “He don’t look natural at all,” my great-aunt snapped. “You can’t even see him. He’s in a pine box.”

  “Chinese pine,” Nico added. “Imported from China. We even have the bill.”

  “Pine is natural. I still say he looks natural,” said Mrs. Pesce. She turned her pug face to Rita in a challenge.

  More donkey sounds.

  “So you see, sergeant, I really don’t think there’s anything to charge us with here,” I said. “We’re merely saying our farewells to a deceased resident of the Holy Cannoli Retirement Home.”

  “On account of he died recently,” said Jimmy.

  “And retrieving a box that got buried by mistake,” I finished.

  “There’s no body in it. You can look,” Nico said generously.

  Spense stared at each of us, one after the other. Mrs. Pesce grinned and waved at him.

  “So if this here’s a burial, where’s the priest?” asked the tall cop.

  Crap. I forgot about him. Silence again. I held my breath. Then…

  “It’s one of those no-name funerals. Do-it-yourself,” said Jimmy.

  “In the dark.” Spense frowned.

  “After-hours. Makes it cheaper,” piped up Mags.

  All present members of the Last Chance Club nodded.

  “Dino would have wanted it this way. He was always a cheap bastard,” said Mrs. Pesce.

  The donkey braying got louder.

  Pete was bent over now. His back was shaking like he was about to expire. I hoped we wouldn’t have another body on our hands.

  “Freakin’ loonies. No way am I writing this one up,” said the tall cop. “You want to write this up?”

  Spense growled.

  “Let’s get a coffee.” The tall cop turned away.

  “You people are all nuts,” said Spense. “Every last one of you.”

  “You might want to leave now,” said Nico under his breath. “It seems to be contagious.”