Murder of a Sweet Old Lady (5 page)

He smoothed back his thick gray hair and spotted Skye. “You poor angel. How sad to be the one to find your grandma like that. Too bad it couldn’t have been one of the boys. You know Hugo stopped by almost every day.”

Skye stifled a grimace. Uncle Dante was already rewriting history. Hugo only visited his grandmother on holidays and birthdays, and then for such short periods of time he rarely sat down. But she didn’t say anything. Maybe this was the only way Dante could handle his grief.

Hugo had been fortunate. He carried his forty years well, and had gotten the better physical traits of both his parents. His mother’s side allowed him to be of average height, five-ten, and his father had provided thick black hair. He had the Leofanti green eyes but something was missing in his. Maybe it was openness. He was good at keeping his thoughts to himself, an advantage in his job as a car salesman.

After getting chairs for his mother and father, he stood behind Olive with his hands on her shoulders. It was hard to tell whether the gesture was one of comfort or control.

Olive always seemed uneasy among the Leofantis. She was from Chicago, and although she and Dante had been married for thirty-nine years, she still acted like someone who was just visiting from the city.

Skye noticed that she was pleating the hem of her pink floral dress. She seemed to feel Skye’s glance and reached up to pat her short blond hair, though every strand was already in place.

Skye smiled at Olive. “Pretty dress.”

Olive seemed flustered. “Thanks. I’ve had it for years.”

“Hugo told us what happened, but I’m confused about a few things.” Dante looked from May to Skye.

“Oh?” May had been handling her brother’s chauvinistic manner for years.

When it was clear May wasn’t going to go on, Dante elaborated. “Why did Skye call the coroner?”

Skye couldn’t tell which of her cousins, either Ginger or Gillian, whispered, “She probably just wanted an excuse to call her boyfriend. I hear he hasn’t been coming around lately.”

Tamping down her irritation, Skye faced her uncle. “Who would you suggest I should have called instead?”

“Your mother, your aunts, me.” Dante’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Crossing her arms, Skye leaned back. “I didn’t want to tell Mom over the phone that her mother was dead.”

“How about me or your aunts?” Dante leaned his chair back on two legs.

Skye considered her answer briefly. The truth was she didn’t want to deal with her aunts and uncle, but she couldn’t say that so she resorted to the near truth. “I didn’t think about it.”

Dante thumped his chair onto the floor. “Well, young lady, I don’t believe that for a minute. What’s the real reason?”

May gripped Skye’s arm and Vince shook his head wildly. Skye smiled. “Uncle Dante, you really, really don’t want to go down that road. Let’s just say the family and I usually think in opposite ways.”

“Fine, we’ll let that go for now. But I still don’t understand what’s going on. Where is Mom right now?” Dante looked around as if he thought they had hidden the corpse in one of the cupboards.

Skye answered. “Because she died alone and without any documented health problems, they have to treat it as a suspicious death. They’re waiting for Doc Zello to rule on the cause.”

“Well, why haven’t we heard anything yet?” Dante asked.

“I talked to Simon a little bit ago. He said he’d come out as soon as Doc Zello makes a determination,” Skye answered, trying hard to keep her voice even and not reveal the true contents of her conversation with Simon. “And I believe there was a wake tonight from seven to nine.” Before anyone could ask who, she added, “I think it was for old Mrs. Doratto.”

Gillian piped up, “Well, I hope Simon doesn’t think we’re going to use the Reid Funeral Home for Grandma’s funeral just because he already has the body.”

Vince shook his head. “Gillian, you are just like a politician raising taxes. You don’t know when to stop and you always go too far.”

 

It was a little past ten when Mona and Neal O’Brian finally arrived. They had been at a dinner at the Knights of Columbus. The KC prided themselves on being defenders of their faith. As Grand Knight, Neal was the head of the local council.

Mona, dressed in an expensive beige pantsuit, carried a quilted Chanel handbag. She was the youngest of Antonia’s children, only forty-eight, and looked nothing like her sisters or brother. Every ash-blond hair was sprayed into a chignon that did not move even in high winds.

Tall and physically fit, the O’Brians had an air of money and elegance. Skye always imagined them in tennis whites on the court at the country club.

Mona scanned the crowded kitchen with her pale blue eyes, stopping on May, who was talking on the phone. May covered the receiver and mouthed, “Minnie.”

Mona nodded, then looked pointedly at Vince.

Vince leapt up and offered her his chair. She sat carefully, smoothing her trousers and making sure the creases were not undone.

Neal raised an eyebrow at Mona. “Where am I suppose to sit?”

A look of uneasiness crossed her face. She popped up from her seat and hurried to the dining room, returning with another chair that she wedged next to hers. Neal sat, his bright red hair a contrast to all the blonds and brunettes gathered at the table.

Vince remained standing. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

They were all silent, listening to May say into the phone, “Okay, okay, don’t cry. I still don’t understand why you went down there alone.” She started to sob. “Yes, I would too have taken off work to go with you or one of the twins could have found a baby-sitter.” She paused. “Well, Mona doesn’t even have a job or kids.”

All eyes turned to Mona, whose frozen expression did not change.

May continued to weep. “I’ve got to go, Mona just got here. What time will you be back tomorrow? Okay, see you then. Bye.”

Looking around the table, May explained, “Minnie felt guilty that she didn’t stop over to see Mom today before leaving for Urbana.” May blew her nose on the tissue Skye handed her, and continued almost to herself, “Minnie checked in every morning. She must have really been upset not to stop today.”

Mona dabbed at her eyes and stole a peek at Neal. “I missed coming over today, too.”

Shaking her head, May made her way back to her chair. “I’m sure Mom understood.” After she was seated, she asked, “Where were you this afternoon? I thought for a minute you had gone back to Maui.”

“I had a dentist appointment in Joliet, so I decided to go early and do some shopping. When Neal finished in the field, a friend dropped him at the Knights of Columbus hall.” Mona inspected a perfectly manicured nail. “You know, not to criticize, but a note on your front door saying your mother died is not the best way to hear the news.”

“They stopped poor Daddy in the field and told him by the side of the road,” Gillian said.

“I guess it’s a good thing it wasn’t
his
mother then,” Mona replied.

Skye felt a guilty pleasure in her aunt’s response to her cousin, although she experienced a twinge of unease, reminding her that she had been on the wrong side of Mona’s tongue many times herself.

Ginger whispered into Gillian’s ear but neither twin spoke to the group.

Folding her hands on the table, Mona looked toward May. “So, tell me all about it.”

May started, “Well, Skye has been stopping by every day after school. Mom’s been telling her the family history, but today . . .”

As May finished retelling the events of the day, Mona wiped away a teardrop, sat back, and stared at Skye. “We really can’t trust you to do anything right, can we?”

“What?” Skye frowned.

“Most people find their eighty-year-old grandmother dead, say a prayer of thanks that she’s out of her misery, and call the family doctor. But not Miss Big Shot. Like Neal says, it’s not healthy the way you always have your nose in a book. You want to live like they do inside the pages of your latest novel. So you involve the police and the coroner and God knows who else. Now instead of a quiet funeral, we’ve got a situation. You’re just never happy unless it’s your way. And look what you’ve gotten us into.” Mona finished without raising her voice. “I’ll bet you didn’t even call Father Burns. It’s a good thing I had him out here Sunday to give Mom and the housekeeper confession and communion.”

The silence around the table was broken only by the scraping back of Skye’s chair as she stood. She walked to the sink and ran cold water as she took a glass from the cabinet. Bingo wandered in and sat at her feet.

After her drink, she turned to the room full of staring faces. “Well, it sure is enlightening to hear what you truly think of me, Mona. I’d share my insights about you, but it would upset my mother and she’s already been through enough today. But, be warned, if you ever speak to me like that again I won’t restrain myself. Understand?”

Vince came over and stood beside Skye.

Mona’s features stiffened and she opened her mouth.

Before she could speak Neal said, “Drop it, Mona.”

“But, Neal.” Her voice sounded whiny and a drop of sweat ran down her temple. “It’s pretty bad when a person is threatened by her own niece on the day her mother dies.”

Neal put his hand on her wrist, his fingers digging into the soft skin. “I said, drop it.”

Skye looked at the people around the table and saw no sympathy for her aunt.

Mona’s tone changed. “Darling, this has all been too much for me. I’m feeling faint. Could I have a drink?”

Neal got up and went to the sink. He filled a glass of water and put it in front of Mona. When Mona didn’t immediately reach for it, he asked, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Not the kind of drink you had in mind?”

 

Conversation died after Mona’s outburst, lethargy seeming to take over. The sound of a car door slamming made them all look up. Knocking on the door startled them. No one ever knocked at Grandma’s.

When everyone remained seated, Skye shrugged and went down the steps to see who was there. It was a little after ten-thirty at night, not a time many people in Scumble River came calling.

Simon was standing on the concrete apron, dressed in a black suit and white shirt. His expression was grim. “May I come in?”

“You might want to reconsider that request. The situation hasn’t brought out the best in the family.”

“Then they’re really not going to like what I have to say. Let’s get it over with.”

Skye tried to question him, but he insisted on speaking to everyone at once. They walked into the kitchen together, but Simon stayed at the door and Skye rejoined Vince by the sink.

Simon cleared his throat. His gaze swept the room. “First, let me say I’m sorry for your loss. I was fortunate to get to know Antonia when Skye brought me out to visit, and she was a special lady who will be missed by everyone. Sadly, it is my conclusion, as coroner consulting with Doctor Zello, her personal physician, that she did not die of natural causes.”

As Simon spoke, the twins started to cry, a twitch appeared near Dante’s eye, and Hugo blew his nose. But upon hearing Simon’s last sentence, everyone froze.

Finally, Dante pushed his way over to Simon. Thumping his index finger into Simon’s chest, he shouted, “What are you talking about? If this is some sick joke . . .”

Simon pushed Dante’s finger aside and went on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “We found some irregularities when we examined her. This means we will have to perform an autopsy. I will take care of that as soon as possible and let you know when you can make funeral arrangements.”

A stunned silence followed until May asked, “By not dying of natural causes, do you mean . . . ?”

Simon nodded. “We suspect she was murdered.”

One, Two, What Should We Do?

Suddenly voices bounced off the walls and filled the small room. Dante’s was the loudest: “What is the meaning of this? You can’t go cutting up someone just to prove you’re a big shot to your girlfriend.” He flung a look at Skye. “Skye, tell him you don’t want your grandmother to have to go through this.”

Skye considered her response. Simon would understand if she didn’t admit that it was her idea in the first place. And Wally and Doc Zello would never tell. But she believed an autopsy was necessary, and it would be spineless not to say so.

Everyone was looking at her, waiting. Vince moved closer.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Dante. I can’t ask Simon not to do an autopsy because I’m the one who talked him into it.”

The roar of voices was deafening, and this time May’s rose above the rest. “Oh, Skye, why?”

Looking at her mother’s face, which seemed to have aged ten years since that morning, Skye was torn. Maybe she should have just let things be. Why did she always seem to be the one stirring the pot?

She had taken too long to answer and now others were shouting questions.

Skye pushed off from the sink and stood straight. “Because when I got here—”

Simon broke in. “Skye, I don’t think you should discuss what you saw. I’m sure the chief would not want that information disseminated.”

The room began to buzz again. Skye heard various bits but couldn’t tell who said them.

“What do you think she saw?”

“Anyone know where Mrs. J is?”

“She’s probably making this whole thing up.”

Most of the babbling stopped at the sound of the door slamming. The appearance of Chief Boyd at the top of the stairs silenced the rest. He looked at Simon, who nodded.

“You all have my sympathies for your loss. I’m sorry that circumstances aren’t different, but I’m sure you all want to know if Antonia was murdered, and if so by whom. The only one who would gain by the termination of this investigation would be the killer.”

When Chief Boyd finished speaking, Skye noticed that the atmosphere in the room began to change. Now her aunts, uncles, and cousins were eyeing each other, perhaps wondering who had been loudest in their objections. Chairs shifted slightly and they appeared to withdraw into themselves.