Read J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 05 - Season for Murder Online

Authors: J.M Griffin

Tags: #Mystery: Cozy - Romance - Humor - Rhode Island

J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 05 - Season for Murder (6 page)

Slowly, I passed the shop and noticed a rare and empty parking spot. I swung the car into the gap between an SUV and a Mercedes before I shut the engine down.
How lucky was I?
Parking in Providence is a premium. I tossed a couple of quarters into the meter and headed down the street toward my shop.

 

Chapter 5

Adorned with tiny, twinkling lights, festive shop windows held sparkling crystal ornaments, glitter-covered packages, and tasteful ads for sales. They silently beckoned as I walked past them, and the restaurants, on the way to
Conclavia
. This, the first of three shops Aunt Livvy had opened, was the one shop she’d favored the most. Her flair for unique merchandise had been well known among the clientele.

Since Livvy had passed on, the shop had lost some customers. Though, with help, I’d managed to purchase goods from the same companies Livvy had dealt with. Restocking the shop with eclectic merchandise brought many of the wandering clients back, rekindling sales.

Though the stolen gem incident had involved the shop after I’d inherited it, I’d hired two new women to handle sales and customers. The original sales women, who’d operated the shop for Livvy, had been arrested for their parts in gem trafficking in conjunction with my two loser cousins, Frankie and Kenny.

It had taken some doing, but since then I’d watched the shop like a hawk. Keeping my finger on the pulse of the business was as important to me now as disproving my mother’s guilt.

I considered asking my mother to help oversee the shop, instead of donating so much of her time to the senior center. She’d done my father’s accounts for his pizza restaurant for years. When Dad retired, Mom had seemed at a loss. With all that time on her hands, she baked, made chocolates, and gave every moment she could to the senior citizens at the center.

While I mulled over the prospect, I entered the shop’s winter wonderland atmosphere. Victorian and hand-blown glass ornaments covered a white tree. Birds, laden with glitter, perched on branches. Flakes of artificial snow covered the tree skirt, and gold ribbons entwined within princess pine swags were strategically placed throughout the store. The overall effect brought a festive spirit to the shop, and a smile to my face.

The two clerks, Angela and Gianna, were smartly dressed in business attire with festive scarves draped around their necks. I grinned at the high-spirited women and asked how things were going.

The shop was doing well, they said in unison and then burst into laughter. I smiled again, glancing into the adjacent room full of merchandise. The shop consisted of two large rooms that stretched from the front to the rear of the building. A small storage closet was tucked into a narrow corridor in between the rooms, and out of sight of the customers.

Specialty cards depicting ornate, three-dimensional designs adorned the racks, along with a variety of other festive cards decorated with colorful glitter. The second room was filled to the brim with offbeat, high-end clothing, specialty books, imported perfume, French scarves, and Italian leather goods. I could smell the rich leather and ran my fingers over the buttery soft material.

A dainty Staffordshire tea set lay on a table draped with sheer metallic trimmed gauze fabric. Next to the teapot, a small antique book lay open, as though someone had sat there enjoying tea and a good read.

Angela Minestroni accompanied me through the shop. She verbally speculated over the best sellers, thus far into the season, and what had recently been replenished. The woman knew the merchandising business well, and while I didn’t pay her an exaggerated salary, Angela earned a healthy paycheck for her experience. At five foot six, the sleek-bodied woman, with a high-cheek-boned, aristocratic face, was sophisticated. Dark, burnt umber hair lay neatly pulled back in a clip at the nape of her slender neck. With the qualities of an Italian noblewoman, Angela pointed out several items that were not selling. Her dark eyes twinkled, as the tilt of her wide smile showed perfect white teeth when she spoke.

“Maybe you should rearrange the merchandise that isn’t selling or put it on sale,” I suggested.

She nodded and made a note of it. We returned to the main area of the shop and, again, went through the routine. In a few moments, we had come up with some ideas on how to make the most of what wasn’t a great seller and what to replace these items with.

Several customers had left with their gift-wrapped purchases packaged by Gianna. Gianna’s parents’ family had been friends with my father’s family. They’d all grown up in the same neighborhood. I hadn’t known that when she’d applied for the position, but it wouldn’t have mattered. She was perfect for the job.

Her feet were oversized for her body, and Gianna tended to trip over nothing at all. It was a trait that caused some concern where the expensive, breakable merchandise of perfume bottles and tea sets were concerned. Angela kept Gianna away from those particular items. Gianna’s cherub-shaped face and Cupid’s bow mouth set off her warm brown eyes. A small tilted nose and a terrific sense of humor gave her a sweetheart look. All of this was set in a compact five-foot-four body. Light brown, curly hair bounced when she spoke, and her gregarious nature was an asset to the business. She was also the best gift wrapper I’d ever seen.

“Vinnie, we wondered if we could possibly have another person come onboard for the season,” Gianna commented with a hopeful expression.

“We haven’t been able to take a day off in three weeks, and to be frank, we’re beat,” Angela offered, nodding in agreement with Gianna.

“Why didn’t you two say something earlier?” I asked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the shop would be open seven days a week now.”

“What you’re paying us in overtime cuts into the profit. We were reluctant to ask since you had such a problem with the last two women who worked here,” Gianna said as she glanced back and forth at Angela and me.

“I had considered giving my mother a job. She could do the accounts and help you out. What do you think?”

It was a perfect opportunity for my mother to slide into a position, but I didn’t want to create waves with the staff, either. The current personnel worked perfectly. I was reluctant to interfere with that. Gianna, who knew my mother, clapped her hands with glee. I smiled at the response, and then turned my gaze to Angela.

“Does your mother have experience in retail sales?” she asked. Her aristocratic face held concern.

“She ran my father’s restaurant for years and did the accounts. For the past few years, she sponsored fundraising events for a local senior citizen center and is known as the Bake Sale Queen. Maybe you’ve heard of her? She’s been on the local television station early morning news show.” I smiled when they both nodded in agreement. “If you two need some time off, then she can fill in for whoever has the day off. I think it would be a perfect solution.”

Enthusiasm met the suggestion and relief flooded me. It isn’t unusual for a family member to enter a business and destroy the working atmosphere. I knew my mother better than that, and so did Gianna. Pleased at their response, I glanced at Angela.

“She’d be such an asset, Angela,” Gianna reassured.

“Okay, why don’t you send her down, and we’ll see how it goes. I’m sure she’ll work out fine, especially if she’s as easy-going as you are, Vinnie.” Angela smiled.

The hint of concern in her eyes disappeared. I was happy they were willing to work with me on this. As far as my being easy-going, there were varied opinions on that issue, but I wouldn’t mention that now. Instead, I gathered the account books and headed from the shop. The two women went to work rearranging stock as I walked from the adjacent showroom.

In the overcast daylight, I lingered before windows of other shops on the street. A car pulled alongside me and Marcus’s familiar voice called out a greeting.

“Hey, beautiful, are you shopping for me today?” He chuckled.

With a grin, I shook my head and asked why he was in the area.

“I need to make an appearance in Judge Milligan’s chambers. He has questions concerning a case I worked on last year.”

“Do you have time for coffee or lunch?” I asked with a waggle of my eyebrows.

A nod and smile met my question. He pulled ahead toward the parking spot behind my car as the SUV pulled out. The cruiser filled the space from bumper to bumper of the other vehicles including mine.

He stepped from the car, his uniform trim, the stiff brimmed campaign hat in place atop his head. Gray jodhpurs and rich, burnt-sienna leather riding boots complimented his lean, muscular frame. The Rhode Island State Police had never been horseback personnel. Somewhere in the line of colonel’s, one of them had liked the look of the uniform, so he’d made it the required attire. The uniforms weren’t far off from what Canadian Mounties wore, only the color differed. I admired the look. Marcus, a chick magnet in his own right, garnered glances from several female college students and women shoppers passing by. He was a mouth-watering morsel, temper and all.

We entered a small restaurant, a few stores down the street from
Conclavia,
and ordered sandwiches. The third chair at our table was filled with my jacket and account books from the shop. I settled back and waited for lunch.

“What are you planning to do with those books?” Marcus asked with a raised brow.

“My mother usually looks them over for me, so I’ll drop them by on my way home. She did the accounts for my father when he was in business.”

“They owned the pizza joint on Rolfe Street, right?”

“Yeah. It was a great business. My father retired at the right time, though. He managed to sell it to someone who has improved it even more, too.”

“I remember going there for pizza and calzones. Your father just retired a few years ago, didn’t he?”

“He did,” I said. “Funny I never ran into you. I was there often enough.”

“Mmm,” he answered.

“When did you move into the neighborhood?” I asked. My curiosity was on the rise again.

Marcus and I dated, sometimes slept together, and usually got along well. He’d revealed some time ago that he lived down the street from my parents’ home in Cranston. I’d been invited to his apartment on occasion.

So far, I wasn’t concerned about Marcus getting real serious over our relationship. Commitment wasn’t on the horizon for either of us at this point. At least, I didn’t think it was.

“It’s been a couple years, I guess. It’s odd that we’d never met before. I didn’t drive past your parents’ house very often. I usually leave the neighborhood by way of the street next to the stadium.”

The counter clerk signaled our food was ready. Marcus went to retrieve it. He smiled at the clerk, who became giddy. I gave her a glare, and she turned away.

The sandwiches, loaded with pastrami, mustard, and sauerkraut were encased in thick slices of dark rye bread. Long slabs of halved kosher pickles nestled next to the tasty fare. When I bit into the pickle, it snapped, and juice rolled down my chin. I quickly wiped it away, so it didn’t drip onto my clothes. I’d already ruined two sweaters this week. I couldn’t afford another loss.

Humor crinkled Marcus’s hazel green eyes as he stared at my misfortune. I grinned back at him.

“Tell me, what’s new in the case concerning your mother?”

“Nothing yet that I know of,” I answered. “I’m going to offer Mom a job at the shop. The girls are already exhausted, and could use another set of hands. Gianna knows my mother and she thinks Mom will be an asset to the business.

The edges of his mouth tilted as Marcus stared at me.

“What’s that smirk for?”

“It’s not a smirk. I just think it’s great the way you look out for your family. Annoying at times, but great all the same.”

“Do you think my mother will take the job?”

“She’ll jump at it, I’m sure,” Marcus assured me. “Are you worried about her?”

With a nod, I bit into the scrumptious sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

“She needs something to fill her days other than senior citizens at the center. She could give me a hand with the shop just through the holidays. Then maybe she won’t worry about Iva’s death and the impending investigation.”

“It’s a good idea. She shouldn’t spend a lot of time, if any, at the center right now.

“That will take an Act of Congress and you know it, Marcus. She’s dedicated to those people, and they adore her. Some of them have no family. My mother manages to make them feel as though she’s their family.”

Marcus nodded. “I know. You’re right. I’m just saying that she needs to be careful right now.” His eyes rested on me as he ate his sandwich. Concern lay deep within his gaze.

I realized how close we’d become over the past months. He slid his hand across the table and covered mine. I smiled and squeezed his fingers. A familiar electricity raced through my system.

“Mom has earned money for the senior center, which allows them to take casino trips, to go on picnics, to take in shows at the Performing Arts Center and enjoy local plays. She’s managed to encourage some of her more affluent friends to donate their time and money in order for these people to participate in things they couldn’t ordinarily afford,” I said.

“Is your mother the
Bake Sale Queen? Marcus asked with surprise.

“Uh huh.” I nodded. “Channel 10 did a whole segment on the center a month or so ago. The reporter interviewed a number of senior citizens and the staff. They dubbed her “The Bake Sale Queen”. It’s sweet, really.” I chuckled.

“I heard a portion of that program on television, but never connected the slogan with your mother. I should have known. Is your oddball tenant aware of it?” he asked with a shake of his head.

“Not to my knowledge. I wish you’d stop calling Rafe that name. He isn’t what you think.”

“He has big eyes for you, don’t deny it, Lavinia. You’re too smart not to realize it.” As Marcus leaned back in the chair, his face became serious. “I picture him as a weirdo who checks his crystal ball on a regular basis. He doesn’t appear to work. What did you say he does? He acts weird.”

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