Northern Moonlight Page 4

  Sabrina started to pace in the living room, boots clattering on the floor as Softy watched her curiously from the window ledge. With each minute that ticked away, Sabrina’s indignation grew and along with it a nagging truth that not just her pride would be wounded if Gio didn’t come. She felt an irresistible magnetic pull towards the man and had been physically weak for that flash of an instant when he had kissed her hand. “Get a grip on yourself!” She scolded aloud. “This is not the 1940’s and you’re not some foolish, fainting chit swooning over a cowboy!” At that moment, the cheerful chime of the front doorbell sounded and her spirits lifted immediately as she sauntered over to answer it.

  In the doorway, Gio stood towering over her, his face freshly shaven and an apologetic smile attached to it. “Hello, Sabrina. I’m sorry I’m late, but I pulled an overnighter at the firehouse, slept late, and had to give the dog some exercise before coming here. Wow. That’s a mouthful.” He said sheepishly.

  Ignoring the endearing explanation for his tardiness, she exclaimed, “You have a dog?”

  “Yes, a Golden Retriever named Pal. But I guess I didn’t have a chance to tell you that at dinner because a certain someone preferred to play archaeologist and dig into my past.”

  Sabrina blushed, but did not apologize. “We’ll have to talk about other topics today. Like our pets. As you can see, I have a cat. This is Softy.” She said as the feline rubbed against Gio’s leg.

  “What a beautiful animal. Such white fur,” Gio murmured, as Sabrina marveled at this glimpse of a soft side to this man who projected a very burly exterior. “Well, should we get going? I’ll tell you what I have planned on the drive over.” The pair shuffled out of the house, and Gio chivalrously opened the heavy passenger side door, unable to resist scanning her curvaceous backside as she scooted in.

  Inside the truck, Gio leveled with her. “OK. I spent a lot of time thinking about how to approach Bert Shanty and have come to the conclusion that I should just be honest. There’s no point trying to manipulate the old fellow, and that’s not my style anyway. How does being straightforward sound to you?”

  Sabrina chose her words carefully, the realist in her judging that his lack of any plan could be a hindrance to uncovering the truth, but the believer in her highly respectful of his honesty and hopeful that things would work out. “I think it sounds just right. Deception doesn’t get to the heart of deception. It only digs the hole further down.”

  “Exactly. It’s good to see we share that value,” Gio said, flipping on his turn signal to merge onto the Interstate. Even on highways in Vermont, the routes were scenic, with mountains always discernable in the distance and rural slices of life presenting themselves at every turn.

  Traffic was especially light, and they reached Mount Hollow in less time than expected. Sabrina was sensitive to the fact that Gio was edging closer to a place that was exceedingly painful for him to visit, and for a moment, she felt guilty for leading him into this dark excursion. What if the Shantys weren’t even living? What if they had moved? It really was improbable that they would come away from this visit with anything more than emotional wreckage for Gio and embarrassment for Sabrina.

  As though he were reading her thoughts, Gio said quietly, “I haven’t been back to my old neighborhood since 1966. Anytime I travel through Vermont, I try to avoid Mount Hollow. It feels really strange to be going back. And to see the Shantys again…who knows if they’ll even be there, or let us in if they are there.” For an instant, Gio wanted to turn around and go back to Burlington, but he knew that he’d never be able to rest unless he at least tried to unravel this mystery.

  As the noisy truck inched through the heart of Mount Hollow, Gio felt a sort of vertigo wash over him, making his pulse rise and flesh go clammy. Rounding a bend, they passed Gio’s elementary school, a red brick building that seemed unchanged by time. Gio felt like he was in a time warp as they passed the farmer’s market where his mother had shopped nearly every day for fresh produce, followed by the basketball court where he and Carlo had played so many games. Gio’s tears had long since dried, or so he thought, as a lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed, willing it to go away. He didn’t trust his voice to point out the landmarks of his childhood to Sabrina, but sensed that she knew what a bittersweet moment this was for him. Finally, they reached the long, winding road where he had grown up. This was the only part of the area so far that seemed to be altered, Gio noted, glancing at the newly paved roads that had consisted only of dirt when he lived there.

  He pulled up to the curb and parked outside of the Shanty residence, which looked as though it had not seen a single renovation since it had been built. Indeed, the house was in a shambles, with a fading exterior paint job, filthy windows, and a rusty mailbox that leaned to one side. The grounds were even worse, as the lawn was overgrown and covered in weeds, and some low hanging tree branches hovered ominously over the roof, threatening to snap at any moment. As depressing as the sight was, the house next door was infinitely more miserable, but for a very different reason: it stood on the property his father had once owned. Marcello Salvatore, the woodworker who had labored so arduously to claim a modest piece of the American Dream, Gio mused, shivering and turning his eyes away from the house. Without a word, he got out of the truck, walked around to the side, and opened the door for Sabrina. Together, they made their way to the old house.

  “This place doesn’t look very lived in,” Sabrina commented, suddenly feeling as though she were trespassing. “There’s no car parked in the driveway. Either these people are out, or they simply don’t live here anymore.”

  “We’ll find out in a minute,” Gio said, lifting the pendulous, old-fashioned brass knocker and rapping three times. The knocker produced a hollow sound. Several long moments passed when slow footsteps approached from inside. The door creaked open, and a solemn, withered looking man appeared.

  “May I help you?” The elderly man asked in a thin voice.

  Gio recognized him instantly. It was Bert Shanty, looking considerably older than he remembered, but unquestionably the same person. “Hello Mr. Shanty. I apologize for showing up to your doorstep unannounced. Perhaps you remember me. I’m Giovanni Salvatore. We used to be neighbors. Until…” Gio was cut off by Mr. Shanty.

  “Until that hideous fire destroyed your house! Is it really you? Young man, I always wondered what happened to you. We both did. I mean Mrs. Shanty and me. But you see, she passed away two years ago. Oh my God, it is a shock to see you standing before my eyes.” The old man’s speech was shaky with emotion, and it was obvious to Sabrina that he didn’t have much human contact.

  “Yes, Mr. Shanty, I’m sure it must be a shock. I’m kind of shocked myself to be here. This is my friend, Sabrina.” Gio put his arm around her, and Mr. Shanty smiled politely.

  “Hello, young lady. Would you two like to come inside?” Gio was awestricken by the man’s demeanor. The Bert Shanty he had known never so much as looked at people, let alone invite them into his house. He doesn’t even seem curious about why we’re here, Gio thought, wondering if the man was so starved for companionship that he simply didn’t care.

  Sabrina and Gio walked through the door and were equally appalled at the sight of the poor man’s torn, age-stained carpets and general disarray of the living room with undershirts and socks strewn everywhere.

  “Please accept my apologies for the untidiness. I’m afraid I don’t get many visitors these days, not that I ever really did.” Bert Shanty spoke in a voice that quavered with weariness and age. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to offer you young folks, except some salted peanuts. Mrs. Shanty did all the cooking and ever since she passed…” He began to choke up and Gio again wondered if this could really be the same arrogant, aloof man he had lived next door to. This was merely the shell of a man.

  “I’ll go get the peanuts.” Mr. Shanty said quietly as Sabrina regarded him with tenderness. In her mind, she had already decided that this was not an arsonist and c
old-blooded murderer in front of their eyes. And what would his motive have been? The idea seemed fairly preposterous. No, he couldn’t be involved, but maybe his long-term memory could give Gio some clues about what actually transpired that night.

  The old man returned to the dusty sitting area with an open canister of nuts that he set down meekly on the coffee table. “Thank you, Mr. Shanty.” Gio said politely, grabbing a handful of peanuts. The old man settled into a tattered maroon armchair and addressed his young guests, “So why have you two lovebirds come to visit an old geezer like me?”

  Gio and Sabrina both suppressed a laugh at the man’s candid words and wondered why he assumed they were “lovebirds.” Gio took the reins of the discussion. “Well, Mr. Shanty, it’s been fourteen years since the fire and I’ve never gotten any answers. I’ve never been able to get closure.” He borrowed Sabrina’s term and exchanged a meaningful look with her. “Anyway, I was wondering---hoping that you might somehow be able to help me.”

  “Certainly, I’ll try to help you. What kind of assistance do you need?”

  Sabrina remained respectfully silent as Gio prodded, “Is there anything you remember about that night? Anything or anyone unusual that you might have seen? Even the smallest detail could be significant.”

  Listening closely, Bert Shanty’s gaze was direct, and Gio realized he had never looked into the man’s eyes before. They were a pale shade of blue and appeared kind in the warm sunlight peeking through the heavy drapes.

  “Giovanni, I’m so sorry for your loss. I don’t believe I’ve ever had the chance to utter those simple words. It would be my fondest wish to be useful and able to help you, but the truth is I’ve nothing to tell. Mrs. Shanty and I awoke that night to the booming sound of an explosion and…”

  “An explosion?!” Gio cried, astonished.

  “Yes, an explosion. That’s what the misses and I conveyed to the fire department when we called. You didn’t know there was an explosion?” Mr. Shanty was incredulous.

  “No!” Gio rasped, at a loss for words. This new information changed everything---changed the past decade and a half of his life that he had spent naively believing his mother’s candles had caused the fire. How could he have been so complacent? This was his line of work for goodness sake! He served as professional witness to arson investigations on a regular basis. Yet he had neglected to delve into an investigation concerning his own flesh and blood. In an effort to block the trauma from his consciousness, Gio had likely let a vile criminal go unpunished for setting off some kind of explosion in the house. Still, it could have been an electrical failure of some sort. Maybe the hot water heater in the basement? But that couldn’t possibly have caused the house and its poor, helpless residents to splinter into a million unrecognizable pieces. Gio felt his mouth go dry and wished he had a glass of water in front of him.

  Sabrina, equally disturbed by Mr. Shanty’s consequential revelation, put her hand over Gio’s and spoke up. “Mr. Shanty, please tell us exactly what happened after you heard the explosion.”

  “My wife and I rushed over to the window and saw there was nothing left of the house, and the land itself was still burning. I remember the flames engulfing a putrid blackness, obstructing our vision because the polluted air was so thick and hot. Mrs. Shanty was nearly hysterical at the sight. Poor woman. She already had agoraphobia…you know a fear of leaving her house. This nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. But I’m sorry, let me not digress. It’s just that I miss her so terribly. Anyway, I had my wife sit down while I hastened to telephone the fire department.”

  “Who did you speak to at the fire department?” Sabrina asked.

  “Oh dear, it was a man of course. What was his name? Uh…Hooper? No, it was Cooper. Chief Cooper if my memory serves.”

  That’s the bastard who interrogated me, Gio thought wildly, his heart racing erratically. He was a detective. Why in the world would he answer the phone? That’s the dispatcher’s job. With his head and heart both pounding, Gio asked, “If there was a loud boom, wouldn’t other people have heard? Was there some sort of cover-up involved? But why? I don’t understand any of this.” He shook his head, brain still a breeding ground of frantic questions that neither Sabrina nor Mr. Shanty could resolve.

  Mr. Shanty was greatly dismayed. “Good Lord, I didn’t realize that there could have been a cover-up.”

  Gio interrupted, “Mr. Shanty, is there anything you could have left out? Anything?”

  Bert Shanty narrowed his eyes and looked as though he were earnestly scouring the vault of his aging memory for some morsel of information that could be pertinent. But he could recall nothing more. “Truly, son, that’s all I have to share. It was so many years ago, and everything seemed such a blur that night. It was just utter mayhem.” He shook his head sadly.

  “I know.” Gio said glumly.

  “I’m sorry.” The old man said despairingly, wanting so much to be useful.

  “No need to apologize, Mr. Shanty. You’ve been extremely informative. Sabrina and I won’t take up any more of your time.”

  “Oh, you haven’t taken my time. When you get to be my age, time is what you have the most of---and the least of. Strange, this life.” The old man spoke quietly, and Sabrina’s heart ached for him. He was so lonely! No one should live in such isolation. Moments later, they were shaking Mr. Shanty’s hand and thanking him sincerely.

  “Come back anytime!” Mr. Shanty called after them as they departed, and they promised to keep him abreast of the situation. In Gio’s mind, this was now a full-fledged vigilante investigation, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. The dignity of the memory of Marcello, Laura, and Carlo Salvatore demanded justice.

  Gio and Sabrina drove in silence for several miles. Both were stunned with the information Mr. Shanty had unwittingly been keeping to himself for fourteen years. As Gio drove, Sabrina tried to concentrate on the scenic view. Sprawling dairy farms and grazing cattle lined the country roads. Trees were beginning to regain their leaves, no longer appearing skeletal as they had since November when the vacationing “leaf peepers” went home for the season.

  She smiled, thinking of the thousands of tourists from all over the Northeast and other regions who made a pilgrimage to Vermont each autumn, hoping to glimpse the brilliant reds, shimmery golds, and heather greens of the leaves in peak season. Then in winter, snow sport enthusiasts would crowd inns and lodges, eager to hit the slopes, enjoy outdoor ice-skating, or simply bask in the pure white glow of the powder puffed mountains. Now that spring was in the air, Sabrina was calmed, happy that tourists would not be returning in such large droves until September when the leaves began once again to fall.

  Indeed, the roads were empty as Gio raced out of Mount Hollow, very impatient to break away from his home town and the visit that had been informative yet devastating. But as he looked over at Sabrina, so enraptured by her surroundings, he wanted to show her a lighthearted, memorable evening, so he vowed silently not to let her drag him into any conversation about their visit with Mr. Shanty and what it meant for the future. Gio wished he could experience the delightful simplicity through Sabrina’s eyes, twinkling as they passed yet another farm, this one with a stable of horses drinking from buckets.

  Apparently reading his thoughts, Sabrina marveled, “Isn’t this all so beautiful, Gio? I could never move back to the city after having this slice of paradise. My sister Cara thinks I’m crazy for living here, but I think she’s nuts for living there.”

  “Yes, I agree. The only time I was ever out of Vermont was for those few months in New York after…well, you know.”

  Sabrina looked at him gently and asked, “So you haven’t really traveled?”

  “No, but I would like to. If I can get some time off, I’d like to go to Italy…or Greece….or Peru.”

  “I’ve been to Italy and Greece for work, but not to Peru. My boss, Darlene, has taken some photos there of the ancient ruins.”

  “You mean Machu Picchu?”

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nbsp; “Yes, that’s right!” Sabrina was surprised that he knew this, and it showed.

  “Don’t be so shocked. Just because I didn’t graduate from high school doesn’t mean that I’m an ignoramus. I enjoy reading, especially about history and cultures.” His tone was mildly defensive.

  “I’m sorry if I seemed surprised, Gio. Actually, I’m impressed.” There was an awkward silence for a few moments until Gio spoke again.