Park Lane South, Queens by Mary Anne Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

an opera.
    â€œWhy don’t you use the frigging air conditioner?” Zinnie demanded. They’d all chipped in and bought Mary an air conditioner, but she never used it. “I stopped at Jay Dee’s,” Zinnie changed the subject, holding up a box of coconut custard pie.
    â€œThere goes my diet,” Mary moaned.
    â€œI get the string,” Michaelaen shouted. He collected bakery string.
    â€œWhere’s Claire?” asked Zinnie.
    â€œDown in the cellar. Assembling her darkroom.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œJay Dee’s?” Carmela asked shrewdly. “Isn’t that the one on Queens Boulevard?”
    â€œBest coconut custard in Queens.” Zinnie turned her back and removed her gun.
    â€œI don’t suppose you ran into anyone?” Carmela continued.
    â€œAs a matter of fact I did stop off at Freddy’s, nosy.”
    Michaelaen’s ears perked up and he regarded his mother with serpentine quiet.
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œSweetheart, be a good boy and go get Grandma some parsley from the garden, would you?”
    Michaelaen glared at his grandmother.
    â€œGo ahead,” Zinnie smiled and gave him a hug. “Then I’ll tell you where your dad’s taking you tomorrow. Okay?”
    Michaelaen raced outside, a lit-up glider plane. Tomorrow he would see his dad.
    â€œSo what did Freddy have to say?” Mary threw nutmeg into her white sauce. “He making out all right?”
    Zinnie snatched a major leaf from Carmela’s strategically arranged salad and sat down. “What is this, the centerfold for Gourmet Magazine ?” Carmela had bombarded the table with peony branches and distinguished pink roses. Zinnie frowned. “I so hate not being able to see my date.”
    â€œYour date is Michaelaen,” Carmela said. “Now tell about Freddy.”
    Zinnie shrugged. “I just thought I’d, you know, go see how they’re coming along with the restaurant.”
    â€œAnd how’s it coming?” Mary asked.
    â€œI’ll tell ya, it looks really nice. Fancy. You’d love it, Carmela. Veddy veddy art deco.”
    â€œYou sound disappointed.”
    â€œYeah. Well … he’s doing so damn well without me. I was kinda hoping … I really don’t know what I was hoping.”
    â€œYou tell him about the murder?” Carmela asked.
    Zinnie looked from her to her mother and back. “Sure.”
    â€œDon’t give us ‘sure,’” Carmela sneered. “We know all about it. The whole neighborhood knows. It’s all anybody’s talking about.”
    â€œOh. To tell you the truth, I did talk about the murder with Freddy. Only it was me who did the asking. I wanted to get the gay slant on it.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou know what I mean. Sometimes they know about someone who’s … uh … kooky in that direction. They hear things.”
    â€œAnd did he?”
    â€œNaw. But he’ll keep his ears open. The last thing he wants is the cops cracking down on all the gays. They’ve got enough trouble with the AIDS scare.”
    Mary and Carmela exchanged looks.
    Zinnie screwed up her mouth. “Now what?”
    â€œNo, nothing,” Carmela busied herself with napkin folding. “Mom was just a little worried about Michaelaen …”
    â€œWhat, that he’d get AIDS from Freddy?!” Zinnie’s face went red.
    â€œWell, God, Zin. Children do get AIDS, you know. It’s not such a farfetched concern.”
    â€œLook,” Zinnie cried then lowered her voice. “Michaelaen is my son and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me worry about it, all right?”
    Claire, coming up the cellar stairs, saw Michaelaen at the back door standing still with a bouquet of parsley, waiting cautiously inside his little shroud of gloom. She slipped out the door.
    â€œHello,” she said.
    He said nothing.
    â€œI was just going to catch myself some