Free Death Will Help You Leave Him by Elizabeth Zelvin

family? Iacone is an unusual name, isn’t it?”
    “Yep,” said Jimmy, his fingers already flying. “Less than a hundred listings in the online white pages, and that’s without specifying a state.”
    “What kind of Italian do you think they are?” I asked. “Sopranos Italian?”
    “You watch too much TV,” Jimmy said.
    “The whole country watches too much TV,” I retorted. “Is that a yes or a no?”
    “Not sure.”
    “The wife’s brothers looked pretty scary,” Barbara said. “The ones Vinnie warned us to steer clear of. But we shouldn’t stereotype.”
    “I know, I know,” I said, “not every Italian is connected.” We knew plenty of guys in AA who got pissed off when people kidded them about the Mafia. On the other hand, Jimmy had once heard a recovering hit man qualify. “But Frankie’s dead, so somebody’s got to be a bad guy.”
    “I understand it would be truly stupid to march up to Frankie’s scary relatives and start asking questions,” Barbara admitted. “At least until we know for sure they’re
not
that kind of family. That’s why I thought maybe I could approach the women. Inquiring minds want to know, but they also want to stay alive. Even if they really are Sopranoish, the women live in a different world where they can pretend to believe the ugly stuff doesn’t happen. At least, that’s how it is on TV.”
    “Don’t forget the guy dealt drugs,” Jimmy said. “We all saw that other set of guys at the funeral. The ones even Vinnie wouldn’t go near. You don’t want to mess with them, and ‘you’ means all of us. They’ve never heard of Miss Marple, Barbara, and they won’t think you’re cute.”
    “So how do we find out if it
was
drug related?”
    “Leave it to the police,” Jimmy said.
    “Listen to him, Barbara,” I said. “No fooling.” Back when I used to score from Frankie and his pals, the only reason I wasn’t scared shitless is that I went in high and came out higher. In our fucked up minds, a “good” dealer was one who’d let you sample product.
    “So what
can
we do?” she said. “We can’t let Luz end up convicted of murder. It’s so unfair. She said to me, ‘It hurts so much that Frankie’s gone, and on top of that I have to worry about getting arrested for killing him.’ She’s terrified of going to prison, and I don’t blame her.”
    Neither did I.
    “What did you tell her?” I asked.
    “I told her she didn’t kill him, so they can’t prove she did.”
    “You watch too much
Law & Order
,” I said. “Innocent people get convicted all the time.”
    “They
show
too much
Law & Order
. And that’s what Luz said.”
    “So go back to whodunit,” Jimmy said. “Who apart from drug dealers had a motive?”
    “Even Luz couldn’t claim that everybody loved Frankie,” Barbara said. “She couldn’t say that no one would have hurt him.”
    “Shouldn’t Luz be in on this conversation?” I asked.
    “Some things I’d rather not say in front of her,” Barbara said. “Like I was thinking— what about the aunts?”
    “The matriarchal aunts? Now there’s a creative thought.”
    “Why not? They’ve got the backbone for it. They loved Luz, and they must have hated it that she was going with a druggie.”
    “Too smart not to suspect the hitting, either,” Jimmy added. “Not that Luz would thank you for fingering her aunts.”
    “So if we investigate, we’ll be able to rule them out. How about the wife? Netta.”
    “A pregnant woman dragged herself all the way from Brooklyn to East Harlem,” I said, “to stick a knife in the father of her children?”
    “When you put it like that,” Barbara said, “it sounds unlikely. But it wouldn’t be the first time. Or maybe someone did it for her.”
    “Okay, then. Who’s on your list?”
    “I meant to look at the guest book at the funeral,” Barbara said. “Then Luz fell apart and we had to get her out of there. All those names and addresses wasted!”
    “Now here is where