The Esposito Series
by J.M.
Griffin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
The
Esposito Series Box Set:
Now
you can own the first three books in the sassy and suspenseful Vinnie Esposito
Series by J.M. Griffin!
By
day, Lavinia (Vinnie) Esposito is a criminal justice instructor at a college in
Rhode Island. By night Vinnie is an amateur sleuth, solving murders while
trying to avoid getting yelled at by her Italian father, her hunky protective
boyfriend Marcus Richmond, and her sexy upstairs tenant, the mysterious Aaron
Grant.
For
Love of Livvy (Book 1)
Vinnie
investigates the death of her beloved aunt, and a mysterious box is left on her
doorstep.
Dirty
Trouble (Book 2)
Someone
is stalking Vinnie and that’s just the beginning of her troubles.
Dead
Wrong (Book 3)
Vinnie
is out to save her brother from being framed after a valuable painting is
stolen.
Excerpt:
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.
.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
As a
humorous, cozy mystery writer, J.M. adds a touch of romance to every story. She
believes in fairies, doesn't believe in coincidence, and feels life is what you
make it. Believe in yourself and look at the positive, not the negative, to bring
about success. AND. . .never stop trying.
J.M. lives in
rural New England with her husband and two very mysterious cats
Twitter: @mycozymystery
Buy Link:
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