Don't Die Under the Apple Tree by Amy Patricia Meade Page B

it.”
    â€œWhat makes you think they care what happens to you? For all you know, they think you murdered Finch, too.”
    â€œI don’t think they’re on my side. I know it. Nelson surprised me a little while ago by thanking me for standing up to Hansen. She said it was like I was sticking up for the other women here at the yard. She also said that she didn’t care if I murdered Finch. All that mattered was that I stuck up for myself and for them.”
    â€œThey don’t care if you’re a murderer? Aw, come on, that’s just crazy.”
    â€œI agree. I’m just telling you what Nelson told me. But imagine how pleased those women would be if you stick up for the person who stuck up for them? Why, after that, I’m sure they’d give you no trouble at all.”
    Del Vecchio rolled his eyes and drew a deep breath. “Okay, Keefe. You drive a hard bargain, you know that?”
    Again Rosie shrugged. “I said I wasn’t a murderer. I never said anything about blackmail.”
    â€œYeah, yeah. You can start first thing in the morning.” Del Vecchio moved to the back doors of the building and paused. “Oh, and Keefe, I don’t mind you sticking up for yourself, but if you pull that hot rivet routine again—”
    â€œI know. I’m fired. Again.”
    With a solemn nod, Del Vecchio opened the steel doors and exited to the shipyard, leaving Rosie alone in the windowless holding area.
    When the doors had shut, Rosie exhaled loudly and threw her head back in triumph. She’d done it. Where and how she’d had found the nerve to boldly coerce Del Vecchio into rehiring her, she wasn’t quite sure, but she had managed to get her job back. Now, to get down to the business of investigating Finch’s murder, but where should she begin?
    Without knowing it, Tony Del Vecchio had provided Rosie with two solid leads. First, there was the matter of the missing Jackson. Where was she and why hadn’t she shown up for work? Between the Normandie fire and Finch’s murder, many women were certain to be scared off of working by the docks. However, it was doubtful that word of Finch’s death had spread so rapidly that Jackson would have known about it prior to the start of her shift.
    Although it was very possible that Jackson was at home in bed with a cold or even the grippe, the timing of her absence was curious. Had she witnessed Finch’s murder? Did she know something that she did not wish to disclose? Or perhaps she, herself, was the murderer. She had sufficient motive. Not only had Finch stripped her of her welding duties—a job that, even for a Negro woman, must have paid reasonably well—but he had humiliated her in front of her coworkers.
    Jackson could have easily met Finch by the docks after their shift, perhaps even under the pretense of discussing her demotion. Whether she snuck a tool from the yard into her handbag with the intention of murdering Finch or the discussion simply got out of control and she grabbed a piece of driftwood from the shore, Finch would never have anticipated the death blow she delivered.
    Then there was Finch’s successor as foreman. At age thirty-eight, Tony Del Vecchio did not possess the seniority to fill the position. And to be certain, there were men at the yard who were better liked. So why was he next in line for the job? Had Del Vecchio, himself, known that he would replace Finch? Pushey Shipyard was selling tugs and tankers galore to the navy and coast guard. Any foreman who managed a tight, productive shift was sure to be handsomely rewarded for his efforts. Those financial benefits, combined with the prestige of the position, would have been very tempting to a man like Del Vecchio.
    Unfortunately, looking into Jackson’s and Del Vecchio’s motives and alibis would have to wait until Rosie was back on the job, when she had the opportunity to glean information from other shipyard