For Love of Livvy: The Vinnie Esposito Series

By J.M. Griffin

After her favorite aunt is found dead and an alarming box is mysteriously left on the doorstep of her aunt's house now legally hers, Lavinia Esposito wants explanations. But, having cleared the package of explosives, the local cops are dumbfounded by the precious stones which came without an explanation, only an address, her Aunt Livvy's. Frustrated by the cops' refusal to share their theories, criminal justice instructor Lavinia Esposito, a.k.a. Vinnie, takes investigation matters into her own hands. Vinnie is soon dragged into situations beyond her control, finding herself in hot water with the law, the crooks, and her Italian father. Willing to put her life at risk to learn what really happened to her beloved Aunt Livvy, and why jewels would be addressed to her aunt, Vinnie plunges ahead with her usual tenacity, bravery, and keen wits to solve and survive this mystery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Canaird Publishing
• Release date: Jun 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9781732517400

J.M. Griffin

With her books sold worldwide, J.M. Griffin is one of today's popular women sleuths authors. J.M. is known best for her Vinnie Esposito series. The series, set in Rhode Island, the smallest state in the USA, is brought to life by a colorful cast of characters. Every novel has a blend of humor, mystery, and romance. J.M.'s latest novel in the series, Cold Moon Dead, is the fourth in the Esposito series. Her latest, The Deadly Bread Series, takes place in Rhode Island, features a Scot, a bread maker, and lots of interesting characters who help figure out who-done-it. Stepping away from Rhode Island's scenery, J.M. set Faerie Cake Dead on the coast of Maine. Filled with humor, faeries, sweet cupcakes, murder and a yummy hero, the villain is someone you’ll least expect. J.M.'s release, Murder on Spyglass Lane, takes place on the west coast of Florida in the Sarasota area. This cozy mystery has a unique and hilarious blend of characters, a sexy hero, and a psychic heroine. Tangled to Death was a mystery inspired by J.M.’s favorite art style, Zentangle. She set the story in New Hampshire with an unexpected corpse in the first scene. Wit and fun fill the pages of this novel. J.M., her husband, and two mysterious cats reside in a countryside village in western Rhode Island, where life is anything but mundane.

Book preview

Chapter 1

THE FRONT DOOR KNOCKER rapped twice after the doorbell chimed. I hustled through the wide open French doors from the rear deck of the gargantuan house. 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 a quiet evening, the town ghostly in its seemingly deserted state. Once church services were over, Sundays became lazy days in Scituate. 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 was around.

Looking down, I saw a package on the doorstep addressed to my recently deceased Aunt Livvy. It was wrapped in brown paper. Again, I scanned the street, but only empty sidewalks and a 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 little square 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 with a recent audit of a class on bomb components fresh in my mind, I wasn’t taking any chances.

I quickly stepped into the living room and grabbed the phone and dialed the private number of the fire station up the street. A grunt came across the phone line that could only be from 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. Tapping the enamel on my teeth with the tips of my fingernails, I finally leaned against the door jamb inside the entry awaiting MacNert’s arrival.

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 stared at the parcel, and then at me.

This was just delivered, you say? MacNert squinted with wizened 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 the package, so I called you.

You just finished that bomb class, eh? He sobered quickly. Since 9/11, everyone took stuff like this with a serious attitude. As he gawked at me, 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 straightened 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 past the box and meandered 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 a finger 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 their number. It was bad enough that the local cops had bugged the snot out of me for the first month after Aunt Livvy’s death. They still stopped by now and then, annoying me with even more 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 one of disinterest.

In the living room, I paced while awaiting the arrival of the state police. Within minutes a grey SUV 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 come 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, seemingly sculpted from granite, faced me. 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 my 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, while my heart pounded. I licked my parched lips and then glanced away.

An oversized van idled up behind the SUV and the trooper turned back. Two men stepped from the vehicle dressed in heavy gear and acknowledged him with a nod. He mumbled a few words to the lead man 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. My anxiety and curiosity grew in leaps and bounds.

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. They straggled along the sidewalk across the street.

You’d think it was a freakin’ sideshow. I smiled and waved. Nobody responded, they just continued to watch my little drama unfold. A little excitement for them on an otherwise dull Sunday, I guessed. The trooper stood aside and glanced at 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. Geesh, 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 Handsome stiffened at my tone and turned to me with a look of surprise on his face. 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 me. 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 could feel the muscles in my face tighten as 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 box. Besides, his muscles were bigger than mine.

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 parcel 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, he turned and left.

Don’t you hate that ma’am thing? It makes me feel old. I know I’m nearly thirty, 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 noted 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 gave me pause. I might reconsider the promise to my father to not investigate on my own. I went through the house deep in thought over the situation.

Darkness had descended. 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 delivery and the officer’s attitude. Warm hazel green eyes along with the trooper’s cool manner had drawn my interest. It wasn’t just his bearing that caught my attention either and it had been 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 the box, 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 unfortunate issue or another. That’s what my life consisted of, unfortunate issues. Most of the time they were huge, never mundane, not ever.

I sighed, sniffed the sweet summer scents that wafted through the open window and wondered how the summer in Rhode Island would be. The pillow slipped lower and so did I as my mind drifted over life, the package and my aunt.

[]

Chapter 2

FOUND DEAD IN HER CAR outside the house by a local police patrolman, there remained lots of unanswered questions about Livvy. Now the box delivery and its possible contents would bring on another load of suspicions. No one in law enforcement had shared their thoughts, theories, or conclusions, but it was obvious some existed.

Considering ways in which I could acquire those cop theories, I realized it might take some intense thought mingled with sweet talking to get the knowledge I desired.

I remembered the trooper’s smirk at the name Lavinia and the shortened version of it. With a name like Vinnie, you’d fiddle with the possibility of my being a guy, wouldn’t ya? I have my twin brother, Giovanni, to thank for that. My Italian parents, mainly my dad, have this old-world thing going on and thought I should be named after my Italian aunt, Lavinia. What a hanger!

While attending school, it always seemed the teachers would hit an operatic high note when they got to the end of it. Maybe it was because, unlike my saintly acting brother, I was in constant trouble. Anyway, he nicknamed me Vinnie and it stuck.

I’d lived in Cranston most of my life, but my Aunt Lavinia resided in North Scituate, pronounced sit-chew-it, a quaint village on the western side of Rhode Island. The town is close to the city of Providence, making it easy to live in the countryside without losing touch. Anyhow, North Scituate is more than ten minutes from anyone in the family, so no one but my parents ever visited.

On Sunday afternoons, we’d take a ride to the country. Not so far away from home, but an eternity to the rest of the family. Although, the typical Rhode Island mentality is that if you live more than ten minutes away from someone, you may as well be on Jupiter. Go figure! I refer to this as the ten-minute rule.

As I lay in bed, I contemplated Aunt Livvy and life without her, then the phone rang. My brother, Giovanni, was on the line. I made no mention of the package delivery, but being my twin, he heard something in my voice.

How are you, Vin?

I’m trying to move forward, but it’s tough. I’ve settled into the ground floor apartment. I have plans to redecorate some of the rooms on the second floor tomorrow. It feels like Livvy’s still here though, you know?

Aunt Lavinia, a spinster who’d done okay for herself, had been a tall, lean woman with a thick dark mane. She was endowed with a unibrow, not to mention the fine layer of upper lip hair so well known amongst the women in our family. A striking woman, Lavinia stood just a few inches short of six feet tall and had a knockout figure. I took after her in most respects except the upper lip facial hair. We all need to be thankful for something, I guess.

She’d owned and bequeathed this monstrous Colonial home to me. I’d lived here for several months prior to her death in the second floor apartment, and missed her friendship.

She was well educated and successful. My grandparents hadn’t liked the fact that she had gone to college, but allowed it. After all, how much education did you need to be a mother in those days? Now it takes a master’s degree and multi-tasking is at an all time high.

I figured you’d be feeling that way. Maybe you changed apartments too soon. I worry about you.

Don’t worry, Gio. The school year has just ended, and June in Rhode Island is wonderful. How are things in Nebraska?

Great, we’re well and my practice is busy. Let’s talk about Livvy. Mom and Dad aren’t doing so well with her death, especially Mom. You’re not investigating this, are you?

The apprehension in his voice was apparent. I knew I’d get the age-old lecture if there was mention of wanting to stick my nose where it didn’t belong.

No, I promised Dad I’d stay out of it. The cops still come around with questions, but so far nobody has shared their findings, if there are any. It’s quite annoying.

A snort came over the phone, and I smiled as I pictured Gio having to hold back the laughter I knew was there. He realized how difficult it was for me to remain uninvolved.

I bet it is.

We reminisced over how Livvy had started her own enterprise that took off after attending college. Before long, she’d become involved in an industry which grew beyond her wildest dreams. Which business that was, I never really knew for sure and wondered now whether it was the stock exchange or the gift shop business.

Livvy had encouraged me to follow my dreams, just as she’d done. She’d been a good listener, rarely gave unwanted advice, and for that very reason, she often got every detail of my sorry ass life out of me. Aunt Livvy had always used a spare the rod attitude where I was concerned.

Livvy played the stock market, but the three gift shops she owned have done very well.

Mom sent me some news clippings when each shop opened. They cater to high end clientele, right?

Mmm, the tourists love the handmade jewelry and offbeat clothing. She left me the shop in Providence, but to be truthful, I haven’t had much interest in it. The other two shops had been sold before Livvy died with the money from the sale split between the other sisters. I’d been quite relieved that they inherited something. I had gotten the most from Aunt Livvy’s will.

Give yourself some time, Vin. You’ll feel better about it. Well, I must make my rounds at the hospital, I just wanted to check on you. Talk to you soon, okay? And, uh, stay out of the investigation, please?

Sure. Give Jill my love. I disconnected the call and sat back, considering my choices in life.

In school, teachers thought my twin was a saint. In truth, he was always behind the pranks that got me into so much trouble. Giovanni had a knack for being in the right place at the right time while I, on the other hand, was just the opposite. It was then that I christened him Saint Giovanni. It seemed he could do no wrong and while I didn’t resent that, I sure did have to put up with it.

My career choice of criminal justice at a local university was viewed with