Page 81 of Finally Mine
“Had a feelin’.”
“Do I need to worry about her?” Aldo asked as they turned down the block, heading toward the sub shop.
“I can tell you that I may have perused our records this morning. I wasn’t in law enforcement when Glenn Diller, Sr. was alive and beating the hell out of her. According to records, she never put up much of a fuss then, and there were a lot of calls from neighbors.”
“Didn’t seem to have any qualms about standing up for herself last night,” Aldo observed.
They stepped into the air-conditioned deli and got in line. Five minutes later, sandwiches in hand, they crossed the street to the edge of the park. Settling on a bench in the shade, they unwrapped their lunches and ate in silence for a minute.
“Sure you’re not just upset that she yelled at your girlfriend?” Ty asked.
“She is my girlfriend, since you’re fishing for info,” Aldo told him. “And I’m not going to say I wasn’t upset about it.”
“From what I can tell, it was out of character for her to publicly confront Gloria,” Ty said, taking a big bite of pepperoni and cheese.
“She doesn’t look like she could physically do any damage,” Aldo mused.
“But you’re still worried,” Ty finished for him.
“I think he’s stirring her up,” Aldo told him. “I think, in addition to sending vaguely threatening letters to Gloria, Glenn’s writing home to his mother telling her that it’s all Gloria’s fault. He’s her son. There’s gotta be some kind of motherly bond.”
If Ty was surprised that Gloria had confided in him about the letters, he didn’t let it show. “But as long as he stays behind bars, she’s safe,” he pointed out.
“What if Mrs. Diller scrapes up his bail?”
Ty shook his head. “She’s leveraged to the point of foreclosure. She’s got nothing. Yeah, I checked on that, too,” he said before Aldo could ask. “That’s why he’s in the state prison. Couldn’t come up with the bail, and county jail was full. There’s a good chance he won’t get out of there for twelve, fifteen years.”
It wasn’t enough, and they both knew it.
“He doesn’t have some rich uncle who’s going to sweep in with the money, does he?”
“If there was a rich uncle, he shoulda showed up a long time ago.”
* * *
Aldo thoughtabout the Diller family for the rest of the afternoon. He knocked off a little early when Jamilah informed him that overdoing it wouldn’t be tolerated. He’d wanted to argue. But she was right, and he wasn’t quite as dumb as he had been in the past.
He took the opportunity to cruise through the south side of town. Benevolence was mostly cozy, single-family homes, tidy little duplexes, and a picturesque downtown. But there was a handful of blocks where the houses were a little shabbier, the landscaping a little more overgrown, and the shadows a little darker at night.
Relying on memory, Aldo cruised down Mrs. Diller’s block. Once cozy, identical houses built on postage stamp lawns, these remains showcased peeling paint and sagging porches. Mrs. Diller’s house hadn’t fared any better than her neighbors’. The once white clapboard siding was a rotting gray. The glass was cracked on two of the front windows. An ancient window unit air conditioner chugged away, dripping steadily on sodden porch planks.
The puke-green, rusty Buick sat in the gravel driveway on nearly flat tires. Weeds sprouted everywhere. It was the home of a woman who had depended on her men for everything before being abandoned.
The front door creaked open, and Mrs. Diller in a house apron stepped out onto the porch. Aldo sat and watched as she reached into her apron pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes. Her thin shoulders were rounded as if from years of tensing for a blow. She’d scraped her hair back in a tight bun, leaving her lined face bare. The skin on her neck sagged.
Her thin lips were pressed in a tight line of disapproval.
Life had not been kind to Mrs. Diller.
Deciding there was nothing more to see, Aldo drove on.
45
“That was one hell of a celebration yesterday,” Claire announced, packing an arrangement of daisies and mini-sunflowers into a white florist box. Their delivery driver, a crabby woman in her fifties whose standard comment was that no one had ever sent her flowers, would be making the second pick-up in a few minutes. “You did good, kiddo.”
They’d done a brisk enough business that morning that this was their first chance at conversation.
“Thanks. I’m pretty proud of myself,” Gloria said, double-checking the orders in the computer and printing the delivery slips. It was a busy day for her. She had a full day of work, a therapy session scheduled over lunch, and a secret appointment that evening that she’d finally decided she deserved to make. To top it off, she was still riding the heady high of waking up in the arms of Aldo Moretta while processing her feelings about her confrontation with Linda Diller the night before.
