Free J.M. Griffin - Vinnie Esposito 05 - Season for Murder by J.M Griffin Page B

Somebody stole them back before she could get rid of them. They were returned, and no punishment was given for her poor choice. If it had-a been up to me, she’d have been whacked for it, but eh,” she shrugged, “whaddaya gonna do?”
    Whacked? Nonni wanted to whack someone? I was sure she didn’t mean whacking with a wooden spoon, but with something much deadlier. Good God, my Nonni, the Mafia Grandmother! This was totally unexpected, and I was left speechless.
    Sipping my wine, I watched Nonni smile, and listened as she continued to talk about Gino Carochi. He’d been a mobster on Federal Hill in the old days, she remembered. Her eyes took on a distant look and her face held a reminiscent smile. He’d been sweet on Nonni, and Iva had been jealous. When Nonni’s parents realized their daughter was involved with a mobster, they’d put a stop to the relationship. Iva had been hip deep in Nonni’s parents’ realization process.
    “When I met her at the center, she grinned, and treated me like an old friend. I smiled and said little, but watched her like-a the hawk. It didn’t take-a long for her to show signs of the woman who had ruined my love affair.”
    “What you’re saying here is that she was a sneak and a liar, right?” I refilled my glass and glanced again at the clock. There was still time to get home before Marcus arrived. Even so, I wanted to hear the rest of what Nonni had to say, whether I was late or not.
    “That’s-a right. She was the worst of the worst, Lavinia. Take-a my word for it.” Her dark eyes narrowed as she watched me.
    “In that case, I’ll look into her activities at the senior center a bit further. Mom’s putting on a bake sale fundraiser this Saturday. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to check things out, talk to some of Iva’s acquaintances, and such.
    I rose from the sofa and kissed Nonni on the cheek before slipping my boots on. At the front door, I slipped my jacket on, buttoning the first three buttons. As I left, I thanked Nonni for her input, and promised to keep her posted on my progress.
    The car was cold again, leaving me to shiver on the drive home. The miles sped past until I finally entered the village. My house loomed on the left, and I parked in front of the garage with feelings of relief. It was good to be home.
     

Chapter 8
    Within moments, I’d unlocked the apartment, flipped the lights on, and headed to the bedroom to change my clothes. Wearing sweatpants and sweatshirt, I wandered into the kitchen in my stockinged feet.
    The stone cold soup sat in the glass container on the counter. Sliding it in the microwave, I set the timer and pulled two bowls and a plate from the cabinet above. I opened the cake dish and swiped a finger full of frosting into my mouth, the sweet taste of rich chocolate instantly dissolving on my tongue. I tossed chunks of Italian bread on a nearby plate.
    There came a heavy thump on the backdoor. I raced into the hallway and peered through the glass. Marcus stood outside in street clothes, his back to the door as he glanced around. His breath frosty in the cold night air, he marched in when I opened the door.
    “You didn’t ask who was knocking. Haven’t I taught you anything at all?” Marcus demanded with a sardonic tilt to his brow as he strode past me into the apartment.
    “I peeked through the glass at the top of the door from the stairs. I knew it was you,” I answered. “Maybe I should have left you out there to chill for a while.”
    The microwave shut off and the buzzer sounded. The soup was done and just in time, too.
    A wide grin covered his face as Marcus watched me ladle the steaming broth loaded with vegetables and ditalini pasta into our bowls. Pulling the bread-laden plate closer, I plastered chunks of butter onto my bread and dipped it into the broth.
    “You stopped at your mother’s house, huh?” Marcus asked and glanced toward the cake dish. “Is that homemade chocolate cake?”
    With a nod, I slid the