Page 5 of A Matter of Pedigree
“Hi, Mrs. Capobianco. What can I get for you today?”
“What’s good, Gino?”
“The stuffed mushrooms, the lemon chicken breast, the veal, what can I tell you? It’s all good.”
“You’re right. Just give me some of each, say a pound. And throw in some bean salad. The kid needs some vitamins.”
“So this is for Frankie Junior?”
“Frank-O, that’s what he wants us to call him,” said Carole. “He thinks he’s an artist.”
“Well, here you go, for Frank-O. Hey, I’m a poet!” exclaimed Gino, handing over a stack of containers.
Carole chuckled. “You’re a poet and don’t know it,” she said, taking the food.
She was back outside, stowing the groceries in the SUV and wondering if she had time to pop in on Mom and Big Frank, just to see how they were doing and maybe have a bite of lunch with them, when her cell phone rang. Probably the girls from Macy’s, reminding her about those Vince Camuto dresses, she thought.
“Hi, Carole; thank God, I got you.”
It was Paulie, Frank’s brother, and he sounded upset.
“What’s the matter, Paulie?” she demanded. “Tell me!”
“It’s Frank …”
Carole’s immediate thought was that big breakfast; he was a heart attack waiting to happen. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Kind of. He’s not sick or anything.”
“Well, what is it?”
“It’s the cops. They came this morning and arrested him. They said he killed some Hosie guy.”“Hosea Browne?”
“That’s it. How’d you know?”
“Just a guess,” said Carole, ending the call. “Damn, damn, damn,” she repeated, pounding her fist on the Cayenne’s Carrara White Metallic roof.
Chapter Three
Climbing behind the steering wheel of the roomy SUV, Carole tried to think what to do. What were you supposed to do when your husband was arrested for murder? This was definitely new territory. She sat there for a minute, staring at her cell phone, scrolling down the list of contacts. Then she saw Connie’s name. A no-brainer: Connie was a lawyer!
“Hi, Mom,” she said, sounding harried. That’s how she always sounded these days. They were working her like a dog at Dunne and Willoughby. “What do you want?”
“Sorry to bother you,” began Carole, “but your father’s been arrested for murder.”
As intended, that got her attention. “What?”
“You heard me. The cops think he killed Hosea Browne.”
“The venture capitalist?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow.”
“So what do I do?”
Connie sighed. “There’s not much you can do except call his lawyer, but I bet Dad’s already done that.” She paused. “When was he arrested?”
