A Season for Killing Blondes (16 page)

There was a knock at my door followed by Sofia’s entrance. “Just wanted to let you know that I got Belinda up to speed with most of the reception work. She’s caught on, and I don’t think there’s any point both of us hanging around. It’s pretty quiet out there. I’m going to go back to your condo and move my stuff out.” She placed a set of keys on my desk. “You might want to give these to Belinda.”

While I hated to see her leave, part of me was relieved. Our value systems were so different. She was expedient, too expedient for my taste. And I’m certain that my wishy-washiness grated on her nerves. I should hug her, but I couldn’t. “Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

She nodded and left.

Later in the afternoon, Maria and Rosa dropped by with a fresh zucchini cake. They wished me luck, and Maria took out her digital camera. Maria liked to fuss over her grand-daughter, and I couldn’t help smiling as I heard her talking about the pictures she would be sending to relatives in Vancouver, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Montreal and, of course, Italy.

“It’s too bad Sofia isn’t here,” Maria said. “It would have been nice to get her in a few pictures.”

Rosa rolled her eyes. “I guess she has other fish to fry. Big fish to fry.”

“Aunt Rosa!” Belinda reddened and tried to avoid my glance.

Maria frowned at her sister. “Rosa! Watch your mouth.”

Rosa shrugged. “What’s the big deal? All of Sudbury—with the exception of her parents and Assunta—know what Sofia Greco DiMatteo is up to.” She nodded in my direction. “Don’t tell me you’re still in the dark.”

I knew they were referring to Sofia’s relationship with Roberto, but I was shocked to hear about her lack of discretion. Where on earth were they meeting? I managed a tight smile and said nothing.

Rosa shook her head. “Does she really think that no one is watching when that black Mercedes shows up in her driveway? Half of Moonglo is Italian. Who is she fooling?”

How foolish of her to even think she could get away with having an affair at her place. The next time I saw Sofia, I would alert her to the gossip.

“I wonder what she’s going to do when her husband returns from Italy,” Rosa asked. “I can’t see Andrew putting up with it, and Roberto Ongaro won’t stop pursuing her. You know what he’s like when—”

“Shhh!” Maria said. “They’re coming.”

My mother, Aunt Amelia and Uncle Paolo were at the door, and they didn’t look too happy. My mother came over and hugged me. “We just came from D & A Meats. Everyone’s talking. And it’s probably the same at Giacomo’s and Tarini’s. You and Sofia shouldn’t keep things from us.

“We’re always the last to know,” Aunt Amelia moaned.

Could they have found out about Sofia’s affair? Maria and Rosa exchanged glances but said nothing. Belinda listened attentively.

“I called Detective Fantin and left a message on his machine,” Uncle Paolo said. “When he calls back, I’ll make sure that he knows you and Sofia were with us Saturday night.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re talking about the murders.”

“What murders?” Maria asked. “What’s going on?”

“Thank goodness, we’re not the only ones who didn’t know,” Aunt Amelia explained. “The other sister, Anna May was killed, and a Russian woman, I don’t know her.”

“Natalia Gorsky,” I volunteered. “She’s the owner of the Lodge out in Minnow Lake.

Maria’s eyes widened as she glanced in my direction. “Do they think you did it?”

Before I could say anything, Belinda decided to join the fray. “No, they have evidence against Anna May. She had the Russian woman’s hairs in her hand.”

Maria made the sign of the cross. “Let’s hope that’s the end of it.”

Belinda opened her mouth to speak. She had probably heard talk of an accomplice. I caught her eye and shook my head. But before I could change the subject, Aunt Amelia had already moved on. “Where’s Sofia?”

“She had some errands to run, so she decided to leave Belinda in charge.” I didn’t know if Sofia had mentioned she was leaving my place and quitting her job, and I had no intention of sharing the news with Aunt Amelia. “Maria, why don’t you take more pictures? Get my mother, Aunt Amelia, and Uncle Paolo in a few of them.”

While everyone positioned themselves, a young couple walked in. I welcomed the reprieve and went over to introduce myself. We chatted about the upcoming free workshops during the month of November. They signed up for two of them and took my card and several brochures. As we were talking, I noticed my mother, aunt, and uncle leaving. They waved in my direction.

Belinda had an amused expression on her face. “It’s like
Days of our Lives
around here. So many plots and secrets. What were you afraid I would say when you gave me that evil eye?”

I smiled at this young woman who reminded me of my former students. “I didn’t want to upset my mother and aunt with any speculation. But I’m curious. What were you going to say?”

“Last night, everyone buzzed about the murders. Someone mentioned that Anna May Godfrey probably got an old boyfriend involved. Is it true she went out with fourteen different guys during high school?”

I figured that Belinda had inherited the gossip gene from her grandmother, and I didn’t want any of my statements tossed about at bars, coffee houses and wherever else Belinda hung out. “Anna May was very popular in high school. I didn’t keep a running total of all her boyfriends.”

“Well, it seems a lot of women did. Especially those who married her exes.”

The wives of the bad boys must be talking. I would have to share this information with Jenny Marie when she visited on Thursday.

Belinda winked at me. “Don’t worry. I will be discreet. Sofia told me all about confidentiality. What goes on in the office, stays in the office.”

“You got it, Belinda.” I went back into my office and started to work on the PowerPoint presentation for the first workshop. The phone rang consistently throughout the afternoon until about four o’clock. I went into the outer office and chatted with an enthusiastic Belinda. She informed me that she had booked consultations with fifteen potential clients. I would be busy for the rest of the week.

At five-thirty, I decided to call it a day. Minutes after Belinda left, I heard the door open, and a familiar voice call out. “Gilda, are you still here?”

My heart started pounding, and I could feel my stomach fluttering. Jean Taylor. I took several deep breaths—yoga breaths ironically enough—and came out of the office. A tall, well-built man stood next to Jean. They held river rock lucky bamboo plants in their hands. This must be the famous Michael Taylor. He was older, probably even older than me, and reminded me of a younger, leaner Nick Nolte.

I forced a smile and waved them toward my office. “Come on in.” I held out my hand to Michael. “I’m Gilda Greco.”

He shook my hand. “Michael Taylor. Pleased to meet you.”

They sat across from me. Jean spoke first: “I’ve come to apologize for my behavior last week. I haven’t been myself since all these murders started. The Godfreys were my only family when I was growing up. After Aunt Elizabeth died, I must have grieved a whole year. One thing I’m glad about. She didn’t live to see two of her daughters and a niece die such brutal deaths. And Natalia was like a daughter to her.” She shuddered. “I can’t bear to think of how much they suffered.”

Michael squeezed her hand. “It’s been hard on me as well. I’ve always loved Carrie Ann, in spite of everything that happened in the past. We married too young and didn’t really know what we wanted in life. I had just seen her that afternoon before she died and—” His voice trailed.

Jean put down the plant and hugged him.

I wondered what they had talked about, but it wasn’t my business. Did Carlo know? I sighed. I could email him the information, but I didn’t feel comfortable doing that. And I didn’t want to risk another Jean attack. I smiled at both of them. “I accept your apology, Jean. These last twelve days have been hard on everyone, even those of us not directly connected to the Godfreys.” I studied Jean. Her eyes were clear. The calm, supportive yogini had returned. Angry Jean was well hidden.

Jean pointed to the plants. “I brought one for your office. And one for Sofia. We dropped another one off at Karen’s office before we came here.” She added, “It’s important to clear the air and replace all the negative feelings with positive ones.”

They were smaller than the original plant she had given me, but I didn’t feel comfortable having Jean’s plant in my private office. “I’ll place my plant in the outer office. That way all my clients can experience the positive energy.” Jean smiled and nodded in approval. I continued, “Sofia doesn’t work here anymore. I’ll make sure she gets the plant.”

Jean’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is she sick?”

“The events of the last twelve days also affected her. She’s not really a career girl, and I think she’s glad to get back to her usual routine.”

Michael cleared his throat. “We don’t mind dropping it off at her place.”

“I need to talk to Sofia,” Jean said. “I won’t feel right until I’ve put this incident behind me. Could you give me her number?”

I scribbled her number on a memo and handed it to Jean. I didn’t want to call Sofia so soon. We both needed our space.

Michael’s eyes traveled around the room. “She did a great job of decorating this office. I wonder if she’d be interested in redecorating my studio.”

“It’s time for a change. Out with the old and in with the new.” Jean liked to sprinkle her conversations with old adages and clichés.

As I watched both of them, I realized that they hadn’t come to see me. They came to see Sofia. And what I found more interesting was that Michael waited until Carrie Ann and Anna May were both dead before deciding to redecorate. If the Godfreys were family, why couldn’t Jean approach Three Sisters Decorating and ask Carrie Ann for advice?

Michael glanced at his watch. “We could call Sofia now and drop by tonight or tomorrow.” He took out his cell phone.

Jean frowned. “I’ve got back-to-back yoga classes tonight. We’ll be tied up with Anna May’s memorial service tomorrow, and Natalia’s funeral is on Wednesday. I’ll give Sofia a call later tonight and set something up for Thursday or Friday.” She favored me with one of her stunning smiles. “Great seeing you again, Gilda. And I hope to see you at Wednesday night yoga. Let’s move forward and put all of this unpleasantness behind us.”

Michael and Jean Taylor had recovered from the four deaths and were more than ready to start a new adventure, one that did not include the family that had once rescued Jean from an unhappy childhood.

Chapter 19

Thursday, November 3, 2011

The next three days were jam-packed with appointments. In addition to the fifteen Belinda had scheduled, I also met with eight walk-ins. While most of them were searching for a free, friendly ear, five booked more sessions.

When I conceived the idea of ReCareering, my intention had been to help other boomers transition into second careers or retirement. Interestingly enough, all twenty-three visitors were under the age of forty. I was surprised to hear so many young people hated their jobs and craved a change after five or six years of employment.

One young man wanted to toss his MBA and start over as a paramedic. When I pressed him to explain his reasons for this sudden change of direction, he faltered. And then mumbled about CSI and other such programs on television. I also spoke with a seventeen-year-old girl who talked about taking a gap year and wanted advice on what to do. After texting her mother, she booked five sessions.

The other three who booked additional sessions were unemployed women in their thirties. Two had college diplomas, and one was a high school dropout. I took notes and listened as these clients talked wistfully about their lost jobs and unrealized dreams.

Thursday morning, I remembered that Jenny Marie and Grace would be coming over that evening. I asked Belinda not to book any appointments after four o’clock. I wanted to go home early, have a quick supper and relax before my guests arrived.

The two women arrived shortly after seven. I took them on a tour of my condo and the building. Jenny Marie was very happy and relaxed. Each time she glanced at Grace, her features would soften, and her smile would widen. She adored her only child and hung on every word she said. I was also impressed by Grace. She was even more stunning than Melly Grace and Carrie Ann, the two beauties of the Godfrey clan. Her blonde hair fell in waves, and her large, cornflower-blue eyes appeared animated and interested in her surroundings. Dressed in head-to-toe black, she was pencil-slim and stunning.

During a lull in the conversation, I realized I had been staring at Grace “You remind me so much of Carrie Ann. It’s like time has gone back thirty years, and we are high school again.”

Jenny Marie nodded in agreement. “It’s uncanny how much she resembles both Carrie Ann and Melly Grace.”

Grace hugged her mother. “I look a lot like you, too. Apples do not fall far from the tree.”

Jenny Marie may have had problems with her husband and Anna May, but she had raised an extraordinary daughter.

At the end of the tour, we sat down in the living room. I poured the tea as we talked about condo buildings, the Toronto real estate market, and Grace’s career as an interior designer.

Grace put down her cup and steered the conversation in another direction. “This has been lovely. But we need to talk about the murders.”

“It’s so nice chatting about normal things again. Do we have to talk about the murders?” A shadow crossed Jenny Marie’s face.

“We need to find the murderer,” Grace said, as her jaw hardened. “I won’t leave you alone in that house knowing that you could be the next victim.”

Jenny Marie laughed nervously. “Grace also thinks the accomplice is after Godfreys and blondes. It’s a strange coincidence. I wonder if anyone else has noticed it.” No one said anything, so she continued. “Grace is determined to find out more out about Anna May’s affairs. I don’t know what more she can find out. Carlo has already touched base with our suppliers and all those men who called Anna May. It’s embarrassing to have to admit that—”