Free Hit and Nun by Peg Cochran Page A

followed her and got comfortable on the sofa. The television was on but the sound was muted. Some soap opera was playing that Lucille didn’t recognize. Must be a new one—she stuck with the tried and true herself.
    She handed Melissa the bag of corn chips. “I thought maybe you could go for a snack.” Her own stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t had no breakfast that morning.
    “Thanks.” Melissa put the chips on the sofa beside her.
    Lucille looked at the bag longingly. Wasn’t Melissa going to open them? She should have bought herself some to have on the way home. She’d go back to the A&P after and get a bag for herself and maybe one for Bernadette. After all, since she was nursing, she had to keep her strength up.
    “So I guess you used to work for this Sal Zambino, the guy who owned the pizza parlor over on Springfield Avenue,” Lucille said, still eyeing the chips.
    “Yeah. I cleaned for him and his wife. That’s how I got this.” She gestured toward her cast. “Their damn cat tripped me, and I went flying down their basement stairs. They said they’d do right by me, but I haven’t seen a penny so far and now with Sal gone . . .”
    Lucille nodded sympathetically. She couldn’t get her mind off the chips. How could Melissa let them just sit there?
    “So your friend tells me that Sal was having an affair.”
    Melissa nodded, her eyes getting wide. “I caught them once—what do they call it—in fragrance delicto.”
    “In fragrance del . . . whatever you said. What does that mean?” Lucille suddenly forgot about the chips.
    “I think it’s Italian for caught in the act .” Melissa shrugged.
    “You don’t say! Who was the woman?”
    “Some tacky bimbo. I didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t nothing special if you ask me.” She reached for a back scratcher that was sitting on the coffee table and stuck it down inside her cast. “Of course the wife has that scar on her face, and she walks kind of funny. But still . . .”
    “I know what you mean. That’s no excuse for stepping out. For better or worse. The good with the bad. Those there are the marriage vows.”
    Melissa flopped back against the pillows. “Except I heard she had the scar before he married her. Still . . .”
    “That’s what I heard, too.” Lucille eyed the chips one last time. “So is there anything else you can tell me about this gal he was sneaking around with? What did she look like?”
    “Dark hair. Dark eyes. I didn’t notice much—frankly, I was too embarrassed. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.”
    “Do you remember anything else?”
    Melissa scrunched up her face. “No, not really. Except there was a red Mustang parked in front of the house when I got there. If I’d of known, I’d never have gone inside, if you know what I mean.” She shuddered. “It was horrible. I mean seeing them like that . . .”
    Lucille nodded sympathetically. “I can just imagine.”
    Lucille gave one last glance at the corn chips and began to get up. “Listen, thanks so much for letting me stop by. I appreciate it.”
    Melissa started to struggle to her feet, but Lucille stopped her.
    “You sit, I’ll just lock the door in back of me.”
    Melissa nodded.
    “Thanks, again.” Lucille pulled open the front door to the apartment. The wind had picked up and nearly grabbed it from her hand.
    She walked down the path and looked up at the sky. The clouds were darkening and it looked like rain.
    That was something what Melissa had said about finding Sal and this bimbo in the clutch, so to speak. Had Tiffany walked in on them at some point herself? And got mad enough to stab Sal?
    There was only one thing worrying Lucille. Flo had a red Mustang just like the one Melissa saw parked outside Sal’s house. She was pretty sure Flo didn’t have nothing to do with Sal—other people probably had red Mustangs, too. After all, they didn’t make this one special just for Flo.
    But it still worried her so much that