Murder Sliced to Perfection Page 2

  Healthy Beginnings was located off the main strip heading towards JewelCove. The name was confusing to most. The ones in charge thought the name assured the seniors, living their golden years, that staying there was a new beginning. Not a healthy ending.

  “I honestly think Martha was helped moving on to the hereafter,” Molly brought up. “If you know what I mean.”

  Polly and Dolly waved it away. Aunt Kendra averted her eyes.

  For decades, Healthy Beginnings had been accused of neglecting its residents, and, in some cases, aiding in deaths. Countless investigations hadn’t turned up anything to prove the accusations to be true. Civil suits dropped like flies in a storm of bug repellent.

  Gia thought it was interesting no one commented further on the matter. “Did her death affect Gordy?” she asked.

  “He was a mess about it,” Aunt Kendra said.

  “What was the relationship between Brian andGordy?” Gia wondered.

  “They were never close,” her aunt replied. “It’s a shame. Family is supposed to stick together.”

  “I heard Brian arrived in town this morning,” Dolly said.

  The same morning his brother was murdered?

  “To think he arrived for work relations and now has to arrange a funeral.”

  Gia was gearing up leave when her aunt stopped her. “If you run into Jennie, by chance, remind her about Sunday night dinner. You’re welcome to come too, honey.”

  Gia promised to pass the reminder along to her cousin and managed to wrangle some excuse for not being able to attend. She knew full well what Sunday night dinners entailed.

  She’d barely survived years of under-the-table kicking between her and her four brothers, and wrestling to get to the last chicken thigh. The arguing and high-voice, ear-splitting conversations, everyone trying to get a word in. The disappointed looks from her parents when a teacher had called, saying she was failing a class. Now those disappointed looks came from her mother, because she wasn’t married with five kids, with the stretch marks to prove it.

  The food was always good.

  In front of her computer again, Gia did a search on Healthy Beginnings Senior Living Home and included Martha’s name. Molly’s suspicions of Martha Fitzgerald’s death had rubbed off on her. Though she needed to remember they were just suspicions.

  Her results brought up the notice of Martha’s death and a link to West Emily’s online obituary page.

  Martha Fitzgerald, age 80.

  Martha became the first woman to open her own business in West Emily, the four-star hotel, Fitz and Glitz.

  She leaves behind her two beloved sons, Gordy and Brian Fitzgerald.

  In an interview last year, Martha publicly named Gordy Fitzgerald to be the hotel’s new sole owner when the time comes of her passing.

  Gia rubbed her eyes and re-read the short article a few more times. Four-star hotel? Gordy the humble sandwich maker, owning an expensive hotel in the city?

  She chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought. Her mind suddenly took a twisted turn.

  3

  “What if,” she turned to Petey, “Healthy Beginnings had a hand in Martha’s death, and Gordy found out? And his murder was their way to shut him up?” Petey barked, then diverted his attention to a ladybug crawling across the rug.

  “Thanks for your input.” She pushed her computer aside and got up to pour herself a glass of wine

  “Tony was right,” she mumbled. Like a dog with a bone, he had said. Gia turned to Petey.

  Or in this case, a dog with a lady bug.

  “Petey! Spit it out right now!” Knowing the chastising tone in her voice, Petey folded his ears down and licked the carpet, transporting the ladybug from his tongue to the floor in a wad of drool. Gia crouched down and saw it was too late. The little bug’s body was mangled.

  “Jeez, Petey. That was mean.”

  She retrieved her phone from her purse when it vibrated.

  “Hello?”

  “You. Me. An extra-large cheese pizza at Enzo’s, then a viewing of the new horror flick,” Jennie said into her ear.

  “Let’s do it. But can we eat at Pepe’s instead?”

  Pepe’s Pizza Parlor offered cheese-stuffed crust, and their Parmesan garlic breadsticks were better than Enzo’s.

  “Pepe’s?” Jennie whined. “That’s like thirty minutes away.”

  “I know. But we used to eat there all the time, remember? Wouldn’t it be nice to go back?” Pepe’s was like a second home for her and Jennie during high school. It was located on the outskirts of JewelCove. While other teens used to loiter in the local joints, Brad and Gia had wanted to be far from those who bugged them. True, Pepe’s had better breadsticks, but the restaurant was also near Healthy Beginnings.

  Hmm, what were the odds of that?

  “Come on, please?” Now Gia was whining. “We’re wasting precious time. We could be elbow-deep in marinara sauce by now.” She hoped her cousin would agree to it, because she wanted to drive by the senior living home. She could do it another time by herself, though going now with Jennie benefited her—in case she needed backup. Not that she was expecting anything to happen. This was just killing two birds with one breadstick.

  Satisfy her morbidly curious self.

  And, hello? Pepe’s basil-laced tomato-sauce pizza. That’s it. No other explanation needed.

  “All right. I’ll be waiting outside,” Jennie said. “But only because they got a good beer selection.”

  Gia hung up with Jennie, grabbed her car keys, and called for her corgi. “Petey?”

  She frowned when he came trotting from the direction of her bedroom. She could have sworn he was just in the living room with her. Petey gave her a lopsided grin and wagged his nubby tail. He looked way too giddy for her liking. Gia glanced at the drool-stained carpet and sure enough, the ladybug was missing.

  “Sick.”

  Gia had just started her car when her phone buzzed again. The incoming call was from her second older brother Richie.

  “Hey Rich, how—”

  “I need your help,” he whispered, sounding scared.

  “Why are you whispering?” Gia asked.

  “I’m in a closet and I don’t want to be heard.” In the background she could hear people yelling.

  “Where are you?”

  “At Ma and Pop’s house.” That explained his frightened tone.

  “You’ve got to do something,” he said.

  “How? What’s going on?” The volume of shouting increased.

  “I met this woman named Stacey at my crab shack. And I invited her to dinner.”

  Gia rolled her eyes, not believing what she was hearing. Only Richie would think “I’ve got crabs” was an appropriate pickup line to use on women who came into his seafood restaurant, located off the boardwalk in JewelCove. But then again, Richie used the line on women who thought starfish only came out of the ocean during the night, or believed a school of fish had some educational purpose.

  That was his first mistake. The second was thinking it was okay to bring a woman, any woman, to their parent’s house.

  “Rich, I still don’t get why you need my help,” Gia said. More yelling and now loud banging made her move the phone away from her ear. Even though the phone was inches away, her mom’s voice was loud and clear.

  “DON’T THINK FOR ONE SECOND I’M GOING TO LET YOU MARRY MY SON! YOU CAN’T EVEN BOIL WATER TO SAVE YOUR LIFE!”

  “What is she talking about?” Gia asked.

  “Stacey offered to help Ma cook the pasta for the mushroom rigatoni bake—”

  “Spicy sausage included?”

  “Duh. After thirty minutes, the pasta still wasn’t done.”

  Thirty minutes? “What was wrong?”

  “Apparently the stove wasn’t on. And to make matters worse, Stacey had checked the pasta several times before Ma finally saw it wasn’t cooking—”

  Richie was interrupted by a high-pitched voice which Gia assumed was Stacey’s. “WHO SA
YS I EVEN WANT TO MARRY YOUR SON? I DONT WANT TO BE A PART OF THIS WHACK JOB FAMILY!”

  “WELL, THAT’S A RELIEF!” their mom shouted back.

  Gia pictured her mom’s left hand placed on her ample hip, the right wielding a wooden spoon, and her dad at the table, stuffing buttered rolls into his mouth while his eyes jumped back and forth between the screaming women like opponents at a tennis match.

  “THE ONLY WAY A WOMAN CAN BEAR THE RIZZO NAME IS IF SHE KNOWS HOW TO COOK!”

  “You brought a woman who can’t cook to our mother?” Gia smacked her forehead. What was wrong with Richie?

  “I didn’t know! I just met her like five hours ago!”

  “Five hours ago? Rich, you own your own restaurant. The subject of cooking hadn’t come up at all?”

  “We weren’t exactly talkative—”

  “What do you mean ‘not talkative’? What were you doing?” she asked.

  “Well...um...we—”

  “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.” Gia had a vague, thankfully not detailed, idea as to what her brother and his new girlfriend were doing.

  “Richie, I can’t help you. You got yourself into this mess.”

  “Gia! Please! It’s only a matter of time before they find me!”

  “RICHIE DAVEY RIZZO!” their mother pounded on the closet door. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”

  Gia winced, grateful she was twenty-five miles away. “Uh, Rich, I gotta go.”

  “No, wait! Don’t hang up, NO—”

  Gia hung up.

  From the backseat, Petey lowered his head and whined. Gia met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry.” She started the car and pulled out of her apartment’s parking lot. “He’ll be fine.”

  Though she wouldn’t be surprised if she found out the next morning her mom had torn Richie a new one and all that was left of him was a grease smudge that smelled of Old Bay seasoning and garlic butter.

  <<<>>>

  Pepe’s outdoor deck area was pet-friendly. Petey lay at Gia’s feet while she and Jennie dipped saucy, finger-staining buffalo chicken into blue cheese dressing. Nothing had changed in the years of their absence of dining in the cozy brick restaurant. Except Pepe’s son, Lenny, whose kids were now old enough to be a part of the family business.

  Renovation could modernize the restaurant and give it a chic or hip look. Though decade-old shoe and chair scuff marks and garlic-scented wallpaper suited the homey place just fine. Pepe’s wooden deck looked out onto a small lake. Nothing like Greenville’s lake.

  On the other side of the lake, a high-end shopping outlet illuminated the darkened sky. The stores’ white fluorescent lights looked fake and harsh compared to Pepe’s strings of exposed aged light bulbs hanging from the wooden-paneled cabana.

  “One large pepperoni-cheese pizza and a side of parmesan sticks.” Lenny’s seventeen-year-old, LJ, set the glistening golden-crusted pie in front of her and Brad, who cracked his knuckles like a fighter ready to dive into the ring.

  The pepperoni embedded in the bubbling pool of gooey cheese wasn’t circular sliced but bite-sized cubes. Flecks of oregano and minced basil dotted the pie. Pepper, garlic, melted Parmesan, and oiled butter breadsticks—still hot—were placed in a basket, paired with chunky herb marinara.

  Gia took out her brand-new camera and took a snap of the large platter for her blog. Then a snapshot of Jennie pulling a slice away from the whole. Its long strands of cheese looked like pulled thread from a quilted blanket after a cat had attacked it. Then a snap of Petey nibbling on a pepperoni cube.

  A few days ago, Gia had bought the new camera. It was hot pink, thinner than her other small camera, and had a wristlet attached. The point was to have this camera in her purse at all times.

  “I’m not stupid,” Jennie said, narrowing his eyes.

  “Of course not.” Gia dunked a breadstick in sauce. “Did someone say you were?”

  “No. But you must think I am.” Jennie cocked her head, blond strands shimmering in the softly lit cabana. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Pepe’s and hoped we would return one day, but I can’t help but feel there’s another reason we’re miles away from town.”

  “What makes you think that?” Gia did a poor job of looking innocent.

  “I can see it on your face.”

  Gia threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. Was she that easy to read? “First Tony. Now you.” She shoved a hunk of pizza into her mouth and swallowed. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

  “No, cousin. It’s beautiful.” Jennie smiled. “You just suck at hiding stuff. Now, spill.” She did.

  4

  “Okay, I get Martha’s death may have been assisted.” Jennie wrinkled her forehead. “Those old geezers dropping like a stack of cards at Healthy Beginnings isn’t anything new. But what does her death have to do with Gordy’s?”

  “Possibly nothing.” Gia shrugged and pulled apart a breadstick. “I’m just assuming his mother’s death involved foul play on the part of Healthy Beginnings, and Gordy knew about it and was killed to shut him up.”

  “That’s pretty far down the rabbit hole,” Jennie commented, eyeing her.

  “Though not too farfetched. I mean, why else was Gordy murdered?” Gia wondered.

  “Maybe it was an angry soccer mom who ordered a bunch of turkey cold cuts for her son’s team and got bologna instead. I hate bologna.” Jennie grimaced. “But then again, she wouldn’t have stabbed him but run him over with her minivan and thrown orange peels at his body.”

  Gia grinned. Her cousin sometimes had a funny imagination. Much like her own.

  “I’ll save that angle for later. For now, I would like to know whether or not Healthy Beginnings is connected. It’s—” She checked the clock on her phone “—a quarter past eight. Maybe someone at the front desk is still up and will have the answers to my questions.”

  “What makes you think they’re even gonna acknowledge you? Let alone answer your questions?” Jennie drank some of her craft beer.

  “They have no choice. They’re up against my amazing charm and my beautiful face.” Gia pointed at it. “You said so yourself.”

  “That I did.” Jennie laughed and handed her a napkin. “No one will be able to resist the tomato sauce on your nose.”

  <<<>>>

  Gia’s car drove smoothly on the paved road, then vibrated when it became cracked and disjointed as they got closer to a giant iron gate. Beyond it was the dark massive building. It was like a scene out of a scary movie. The dozen or so windows were pitch-black. Silhouettes of twisted trees surrounded the senior home, its branches like fingers reaching to grasp something that wasn’t there. A cloudy mist floated along the grounds. The moon loomed big and bright.

  “Huh, a full moon,” Jennie said. “That’s not creepy at all.”

  Yep. This place was definitely paradise.

  Forget going to see the new horror movie. They were currently in one. All that was needed was a sudden bolt of lightning and loud claps of thunder. Instead, a flock of black birds surged past, their loud screeches making them jump in their seats.

  “Gia, I love you dearly. I really do. So please don’t take this the wrong way. This is the most ridiculously stupid idea you’ve ever come up with. Can we please get the crap out of here?”

  Petey barked as if agreeing.

  Boom! Boom! The three of them jumped.

  A fist had pounded hard against Gia’s window. “WHO’S IN THERE?” a rough voice demanded.

  Both women let out screams, clutching each other like they were Shaggy and Scooby Doo. Petey barked furiously.

  A scruffy older man pressed his wrinkled, menacing face into the window, his left bloodshot eye taking in the interior of Gia’s car. The right eye was cloudy and artificial.

  “This here is private property!” he shouted, his breath fogging the glass. “Leave NOW!”

  “You heard the man, go! GO!” Jennie slapped the dashboard.

  Gia floored it, leaving broken chips of pav
ement in her wake. This was the end result of taking Molly—a woman who spent too much time inhaling hair dye—seriously.

  <<<>>>

  Back in Greenville, Gia dropped Petey off at her apartment. He ignored the fresh bowl of water she poured and collapsed on his fluffy bed in a pepperoni-induced coma. She and Jennie continued on to the theatre but ditched the new horror film and settled on a romantic comedy. It was about a woman name Rebecca who goes on many disastrous dates while enduring her mother’s inappropriate behavior. Gia scoffed at the not-so-original plot.

  After the credits rolled, they headed back to Gia’s car. Inside, Jennie asked, “Remember when Rebecca went by her dead grandmother’s house and saw the newlyweds moving in?”

  “What about it?”

  “It made me think. When I die, what lucky person will buy it and move all of their crap into my house?”

  “Lovely thoughts,” Gia said dryly.

  Jennie stretched her longs legs and gave a pointed look. “I swear if they bring one little speck of polyester, I’m going to haunt them.”

  Gia wondered about Gordy’s house. Would Brian, who was supposedly in town, want to keep it, or sell it? While Jennie rehashed a sweaty and embarrassing moment with a polyester shirt in the seventh grade, Gia texted Greta, asking if she knew Gordy’s home address. A response soon returned.

  “Buckle up,” she told Brad. “We’re going on another field trip.” He groaned.

  Gordy lived in a small one-level home. Gia ignored the flutters in her stomach when she had passed the cul-de-sac where Tony currently lived in his uncle’s home.

  Friday could not get here soon enough.

  Neighboring houses were dark and had empty driveways. No one was around to question why they were walking to a dead man’s house. If they were caught, the answer would be they were simply paying their respects, since Gordy’s porch was turned into a makeshift memorial, covered in flowers, small lit candles, and “We miss you” notes.