The
front door knocker rapped twice after the door bell rang. I hustled
from the rear deck of the gargantuan house to answer the summons.
Someone seemed impatient, and I was curious as to who it was. My
watch read just after eight o’ clock. I swung the heavy door open
to find my prospective visitor absent.
It was
so quiet, the town ghostly in its seemingly deserted state. Sundays
were always lazy days in Scituate, once church was over. With a
glance up and down the street of the small historic Rhode Island
village, neat colonial homes stretched along the sides of the road in
both directions. No one came into view.
On the
doorstep, a package addressed to my recently deceased Aunt Livvy sat
wrapped in brown paper. Again, I gawked up and down the street, but
only empty sidewalks and barren roadway appeared in the waning light.
The idea of a jaunt along the main drag entered my mind. I figured it
would be senseless since the street was visible for about two hundred
yards in either direction. Whoever had left the package was gone,
long gone.
An
eternity passed, or so it seemed, while my gaze locked onto the
square, little box. Reluctant to touch it, I decided to call the
local fire company to come take a gander. Call me paranoid, but as a
criminal justice instructor, a recent audit of a class on bomb
components remained fresh in my mind.
I
quickly stepped to the living room and grabbed the phone. I dialed
the private number of the fire station up the street. A grunt came
across the phone line that could only be Bill MacNert.
“Hey
Nerd, its Vinnie,” I said. “A package was just left on my
doorstep, could you come down and check it out for me?”
“Sure,
you got a secret admirer or somethin’?” He cackled, as only
senior men can.
“Not
likely, but you never know. This package is addressed to Lavinia
Ciano, not Lavinia Esposito and is wrapped in brown paper. Nobody’s
here to accompany this little surprise either.”
“I’ll
be right down, Vinnie, don’t touch it.” He warned.
“Okay.”
Anxious,
I paced back and forth across gleaming hard wood floors in the
spacious living room of my newly acquired colonial. My fingernails
tapped the enamel on my teeth as I wandered to and fro. As irrational
as it seemed, I finally leaned against the door jamb inside the entry
to wait for MacNert to arrive.
It
wasn’t long before the limber old guy came into view as he hot
footed down the street with a stethoscope in his hand. This
particular piece of equipment wasn’t quite what I’d expected, but
then he wasn’t a bomb expert either.
When he
arrived on the doorstep slightly out of breath, he glanced at the
parcel, and then turned toward me.
“This
was just delivered, you say?” MacNert squinted toward me with
wizened brown eyes that twinkled all the time. It was as though there
was a private joke going on inside his head.
“Yeah,
someone knocked on the door, and when I got here to answer, there was
nobody around. It didn’t seem prudent to mess with it, so I called
you.”
“You
just finished that bomb class, eh?” He chuckled and then sobered
quickly. Since 9/11, everyone took stuff like this with a serious
attitude. While he chuckled, I knew MacNert was no different.
The
stethoscope ends plugged into his ears, Bill laid its diaphragm on
top of the package. Removing it, he gingerly set it against the sides
and listened again. I didn’t make a sound as he stood and glanced
up.
“There’s
no tickin’ but that doesn’t mean it’s not an explosive. You
should probably call the state police barracks up the road. Have them
send their bomb guys down for a lookie see, just to be on the safe
side.”
“Geez,
I hate to do that. I’ll feel stupid if it’s a joke,” I whined.
“It’s
up to you, but if you were nervous enough to call me, then you should
call them. It’s just my opinion, Vin.” He stepped over the box
and wandered into the entryway. “Got anythin’ to eat? Wifey’s
out of town visitin’ her sister and I’m starved.”
Bill
didn’t seem over concerned, but then again, he hadn’t recently
taken a bomb class either. My eyes never left the box as I answered
him. “There’s food in the fridge, help yourself.”
I’d
known the homely man and his family for years and respected his
opinion. Tapping my fingers against my lips, I called after him,
“You’re right. I’ll ring the state police now, but stick around
okay?”
Unwilling
to be nailed as over-dramatic by the staties, I reluctantly punched
in the numbers. It was bad enough that the local cops had bugged the
shit out of me for the first month after Aunt Livvy’s death. They
still stopped by now and then, annoying me even more with stupid
questions. Questions to which I had no answers.
After
the trooper covering the desk answered, I explained what I’d found
on the doorstep. He seemed unconcerned until I mentioned my name and
address, and then he stated someone would be down momentarily. The
swift change in his manner piqued my curiosity. I wondered why he’d
suddenly capitulated when his initial response had been of
disinterest.
In the
living room, I paced while awaiting the arrival of the state police.
Within minutes a sleek, grey Crown Victoria pulled up to the curb out
front and a tall, lean trooper got out. Broad shouldered and well
built, he walked with assurance and a certain amount of swagger. I
stepped into the open door entry and watched him saunter through the
front gate onto the walkway. He stared at the package and then at me.
“Did
you call about this box, ma’am?” Keen hazel green eyes traveled
over my face and down my body.
Craggy
features, sculpted from granite, faced me and I felt my blood run hot
as the breath caught in my throat. What was this about? I gazed at
him admiring the neat package wrapped in the trim uniform.
“I
did. Bill MacNert from the fire station thought it would be a good
idea since it was mysteriously left on the doorstep. He checked to
see if it was ticking, but it isn’t.”
“Are
you Lavinia Ciano?” The trooper’s glance strayed from the name on
the wrapper to me as his eyes showed a glint of humor and his mouth
twitched.
Could
that humor be over the name? I wondered, as I said, “No, my name is
Esposito. Livvy was my aunt.” Our eyes held and my heart pounded. I
licked my parched lips and then glanced away.
An
oversized van idled up behind the patrol car and the trooper glanced
back. Two men stepped from the vehicle dressed in heavy gear and
acknowledged him. He turned to the lead man, mumbled a few words and
then stared at me again. If this was an action film, I would have
expected Bruce Willis to jump out of the truck announcing he was
about to kick someone’s ass. This wasn’t an action film, but a
real life situation instead.
The two
guys angled through the front gate and hitched their gear as they
hauled a peculiar looking lidded barrel toward the front door. By
this time, a few neighbors had taken notice of the activities.
Several people straggled along the sidewalk across the street to
watch.
You’d
think it was a freakin’ sideshow. I smiled and waved. Nobody
responded, they just continued to gawk. A little excitement for them
on an otherwise dull Sunday, I guessed. The trooper stood aside and
watched the crowd, but said nothing.
The
overdressed bomb guys corralled the box between them. With delicate
finesse they lifted and stowed it into the metal container, loaded it
into the truck and drove off. I stared in disbelief. Hell, I wanted
to know what was in the package. I had a right to know, didn’t I?
The
trooper turned to leave and I stepped forward.
“Uh,
I’d like to know what’s in the box, if it’s not too much to
ask.” My hand snuck up to my hip as my cocky Italian attitude slid
into place.
Tall and
Curious stiffened at my tone and turned to stare at me. It seemed he
wasn’t used to being spoken to in this manner, which wasn’t any
big surprise. Women tend to respond differently to men in uniform,
especially a man such as this luscious creature. Well, not this
chick. I teach guys like him all year long and the “I’m so
wonderful” thing gets old fast.
“I’ll
be sure to let you know, Miss Esposito. If we have any questions,
you’ll hear from us right away.”
I gawked
a moment and my eyes narrowed. His opened wide in contrast and he
waited, his body tense. Maybe he thought I’d pitch myself off the
steps onto his perfectly toned frame and pummel the daylights out of
him or something. It was a thought, but I really wanted to know what
was in the package. Besides, his muscles were bigger than mine.
In an
effort to change tactics rather than be handcuffed and dragged off to
jail, I smiled and spoke in as nice a manner as I could muster.
“I’d
appreciate any information you could give me officer, since the
package was left in such an alarming way. Should I call headquarters
tomorrow?”
His look
narrowed. I suspected he was unsure of where this was headed. There
was a moment’s hesitation before he answered the question.
“Sure,
that would be a good idea.” He gave a nod of the stiff brimmed
campaign hat that covered cropped brown hair.
“All
right then. I’ll call the colonel first thing.” My voice remained
light and sweet, and the smile was charming, at least I hoped it was.
The
colonel runs a strict police force and is a tough disciplinarian with
an intense dislike for any impropriety, implied or otherwise. I’d
gleaned that much from the cops in my criminal justice classes.
A tight
lipped smile crossed his face. I figured he couldn’t decide whether
I really knew the colonel or if this was a ploy. To be truthful, I
lied by omission. I hadn’t said I knew the colonel, I just said I’d
give him a call.
“That
won’t be necessary ma’am. As soon as there’s any information,
I’ll get in touch with you.” With a nod of his head, he turned
and left.
Don’t
you hate that ma’am thing? It makes me feel old. I know I’m
thirty-something, but really.
Bill
MacNert stood near the doorway sucking down a sandwich filled with
sausage and peppers. My mother had sent the food home with me the day
before. The smell of rich tomato sauce and fragrant sausage
tantalized my taste buds.
“Guess
it wasn’t that serious then?” Slurp noises preceded a sauce blob
that dripped down his uniform shirt.
I
glanced at Bill’s shirt, snagged a tissue from my pocket and dabbed
at the drip.
“I
won’t know until tomorrow, but if I’m the town laughing stock
you’re in for it and don’t forget it. By the way, did you leave
me any food?” I chuckled at his expression.
Bill’s
guilt ridden grin assured me that he hadn’t, but he swore that he
had. He handed me the empty plate before he headed toward the fire
station. I watched the stethoscope bob up and down from the back
pocket of his pants. He trotted up the street, and I felt sure the
story would make the rounds since Bill was an avid gossip.
The
crowd had dispersed, and I was alone again. Livvy would have had a
fit over the whole affair had she been alive, but I figured there was
no sense in being stupid. I act that way often enough, thank you.
Mystery
still surrounded Livvy’s non-violent death. While the police
weren’t forthcoming with information, the state troopers’
attitude on the phone caused me to reconsider the promise to my
father to not investigate on my own. I wandered through the house
deep in thought over the situation.
Darkness
had descended as I headed toward the bedroom. Changing into a t-shirt
and boxer briefs, I climbed into bed with a notebook. The troopers’
attitude niggled at me. I leaned back against the pillows scribbling
notes about the package delivery. Words ran across the page as the
scene and the trooper came to mind. The trooper’s name wasn’t on
his badge, but I remembered the badge number.
The pad
propped against my knees, my mind drifted over the parcel and the
officer’s attitude. Warm hazel green eyes along with the trooper’s
cool manner had drawn my interest. It wasn’t really just his
bearing that caught my attention either and it was a struggle to stay
focused.
Intense
eyes sat above a strong, chiseled nose and firm jaw. I sketched the
features onto the pad of paper. His lips weren’t thin, not too
wide, but just right for kissing. Wondering what it would be like to
taste those lips, I gave myself a mental head slap. A cop is the last
thing you want or need, my inner voice echoed. This voice always
echoed dire warnings through my head. It had a bad habit of doing so
at the worst possible moment. Just stay focused on Livvy, I lectured
myself.
Snuggled
under the lightweight blanket, thoughts about Livvy and our life
played in my mind. Muscles relaxed, and I realized I needed to talk
to her tomorrow. The graveyard was about two blocks away from the
house. I often went to her grave for a conversation when I’d become
involved in one issue or another. That’s what my life consisted of,
one issue or another. Most of the time the issues were huge, never
mundane, not ever.
I
sighed, sniffed the sweet summer scents that wafted through the open
window and wondered how this summer in Rhode Island would be. The
pillow slipped lower and so did I as my mind wandered over life, the
package and my aunt.
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