Penne Dreadful

by Catherine Bruns

  I’d do anything for my friends.

  Sweat trickled down the small of my back as I obeyed his command. The man grabbed me roughly by the shoulder and whirled me around to face him. For the second time in two days, I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun.

  Sam sighed with mock disgust. “Oh, Mrs. Esposito. It seems that you’re just as stupid as your husband.”

  Twenty-Seven

  “How did you get in?” I managed to say.

  Sam’s chest heaved with laughter. “You should have invested a few dollars in a more complex lock. My pick worked in less than a minute. You might as well have left the door open. Thanks for making it so easy for me.”

  His blue eyes were dark, endless pools of insanity. He grabbed me by the arm and jerked me forward, pressing the gun against my forehead. “Out all night, huh? I was about to pull into your driveway when some guy in a truck zoomed out of here. Guess he got his night confused with your other lovers. You surprise me, Mrs. Esposito. I didn’t think you’d be sleeping around so soon after your husband’s death.”

  So he didn’t know what had happened with Butchy and Anthony yet. It was difficult to breathe or concentrate with the gun pressed against my face. “You’ve been waiting for me all night?” From his rumpled clothing and the thick smell of sweat permeating from him, it seemed a safe assumption.

  “Yeah. I need those pictures Dylan left for you.” Sam’s hot, sour breath invaded my nostrils. “But I didn’t go hungry. You might be stupid, but at least you’re a pretty good cook. I even fed the cat. Such a nice little kitty.”

  Alarm rose from the pit of my stomach. “Where is he? What have you done with him?”

  “Relax. Your cat’s fine. I shut him in the bathroom upstairs because he hissed at me. I’d never hurt an innocent animal. What kind of a guy do you think I am?”

  A psychotic freak. “You killed my husband.”

  He moved the gun away from my head and studied me for a moment. “I didn’t have a choice. Dylan was blackmailing Izzy, upsetting her, making her sad. I had to put a smile back on her face.”

  Oh boy. Sympathy, disbelief, and disgust all mixed together in my stomach as I watched him. “You care for her.”

  He shot me a duh look. “I love her.”

  “What about her fiancé?” I asked.

  Sam shook his head, looking at me as if he were explaining geometry to a three-year-old and I didn’t understand. “That’s just business. Izzy needs his money for her father’s company. Anthony’s a horrible manager. She’s sacrificing her happiness for her family.”

  Did he actually believe that garbage? If so, Izzy had succeeded in doing quite a number on him. “Is that what she told you?”

  “It’s what I know. That husband of yours was going to ruin everything she’s worked so hard to build. Dylan got what he deserved for trying to blackmail her.”

  “You’re sick,” I whispered.

  “And you’re an idiot,” he chortled. “You actually believed my story about the doves.”

  “Why did you shoot Eric? Did he see you tamper with Dylan’s car?”

  Sam laughed. “That loser wasn’t even around when I did it. But I bet he told you he knew who did, right? What a jerk, trying to make a few bucks off a grieving widow. No, that was an unfortunate accident. I was aiming for you. I had a feeling from the beginning you might be a problem. That night when you left the office building in Albany? It was me who tried to run you down. Izzy and I both wondered if you took the job at Slice to continue Dylan’s dirty work.”

  “I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Right.” He exhaled loudly. “Dylan was always talking about how much he loved you. How you two could tell each other anything.” His upper lip twisted into a snarl. “I figured he would have shown you the pictures of Izzy with other guys. Turns out I was right to be worried.”

  This kid was deluding himself. “You think she loves you? She’s using you to get the evidence of her cheating ways. You don’t think Izzy’s fooling around on you too?”

  “That’s different,” Sam insisted. “Those guys in the pictures are marks. She gets stuff from them. Money. Clothes. Jewelry. Things she’ll need when we run off together. You think a fine girl like that can live off my pizza delivery money?”

  He was crazy; that was for certain. Or gullible. Or maybe just plain stupid. Perhaps a little of all three? “She’s going to marry Rico, you know.” When the police were done with him, that is. Sam must not have known that Rico had been arrested last night, and I didn’t volunteer the information.

  Sam shook his head stubbornly. “Izzy’s going to leave him after the wedding. Rico promised she’d get her own bank account with one hundred grand as soon as they’re married. When she’s got the money, we’re taking a cruise to Milan,” he bragged.

  “Sure. Okay.” I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. Once again, I had to figure out how to get away from a lunatic. Another thought occurred to me. Gino was stopping by for lunch in less an hour. Somehow, I had to keep Sam talking until he arrived.

  His smile was evil. “Now, hand over the pictures. My girl can’t rest until she gets them. Which means I won’t rest either.”

  “There are no pictures,” I whispered. “It turns out Dylan didn’t tell me everything. If he had them, he kept it to himself. He had secrets—lots and lots of secrets.” I tried to change the subject. “Dylan was blackmailing Anthony too, right? That’s why Anthony didn’t fire him when Izzy told her father about the pictures.”

  He smiled. “Yeah. I guess he figured out Anthony’s little side business from doing his taxes. Dylan threatened to go to the cops and the IRS if he didn’t cut him into the deal.”

  “But why? Did he say why he was keeping secrets and blackmailing everyone?”

  Sam looked at me in disbelief. “For you, of course. Your husband needed to make sure you were well provided for. He told Izzy once that he didn’t want you to have any debts when he was gone.” He laughed. “Was he psychic? Did he know I was going to kill him? The guy made it sound like he was going somewhere permanently. Which didn’t make sense, you know? Because if he loved you so much, why leave you behind?”

  A sob escaped from my mouth before I could stop it.

  “That’s when I knew we had to get him out of the way. I told Izzy that joker is leaving town, and if I don’t take care of him now, we may never get those pics. That auto mechanic class in high school turned out to be pretty useful after all.” He raised the gun and pressed it against my chest. “Now, hand them over.”

  “I don’t have any pictures.”

  “If you don’t have them, that would be bad. See, it would mean I’d have to kill you for no reason.”

  Fear lodged in my throat. “My cousin will know. You won’t get away with it.”

  “Oh, but I will,” Sam insisted. “I’ve got a gas can in my car down the street. After I shoot you, I’ll strike a match, and you and kitty will go up in flames. I’ll make it look like you had an unfortunate cooking accident. Now for the last time, hand over the pictures.”

  In desperation, my eyes darted around the room, hoping for some type of escape or weapon, but there was none. For the second time in as many days, my life was being threatened. Except this time there was no Gabby as an ally.

  Think, think. A light switch clicked on in my brain. “Okay. They’re in the kitchen.”

  He pushed me roughly in front of him. “Move. And don’t try anything stupid or I’ll kill you.”

  Sam really must have thought I was stupid. Pictures or no, it was clear that he was going to kill me. I shuffled one foot in front of the other as he kept the gun pressed into my back. I was terrified he might stumble and the gun would go off. Blood pounded noisily in my ears, and I tried to remain calm. I thought of Dylan and how his obsession with money had cumulated into his death. It might end up doin
g the same thing to me as well.

  No. I couldn’t let this monster win again.

  We reached the kitchen, and then Sam shoved me against the counter. “Where are they?” he snapped.

  “In the drawer by the stove.”

  “I already looked there.”

  My hands were shaking as I started to pull it open. How could I move quickly enough without him firing the gun first? “They’re taped to the underside.”

  Meow. I glanced down at the floor to see Luigi rubbing up against my legs.

  Sam stared at the cat in disbelief. “How did he get down here?”

  It was the split second that I needed. I grabbed the steel pot by its warm handle and threw it at Sam’s head. The gun dropped from his hand, and he screamed in agony as the hot, red liquid cascaded down his face. He started to dance around the room, arms flailing in the air. The gun slid across the room and under the fridge. I picked up Luigi, who was unharmed, rushed to the living room, and flung open the front door.

  “Help!” I screamed over and over, hoping that someone would hear me. As I ran down the driveway I saw Gino’s car pulling onto the street and rushed toward it. He screeched the vehicle to a stop at the side of the road and quickly got out, accompanied by Lou.

  “Tess, what’s wrong?” He drew his gun.

  “Sam,” I gasped. “In my house. He had a gun—it went under the fridge. He’s the one who killed Dylan. I threw a pan of hot sauce at him.”

  Lou was already rushing toward my house, gun positioned at his side. Gino gave my arm a little shake. “Stay here.” He took off running after Lou.

  I buried my face into Luigi’s soft fur. He immediately started to wriggle in my arms, so I opened the back door of Gino’s car and placed him on the seat. I leaned against the vehicle and waited for my body to stop shaking.

  A few minutes later, Gino came out of the house and strode over to me. “Lou’s got him in cuffs on the floor. We found the gun too.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief. “How did you get here so quickly?”

  “Warner went home sick and canceled my meeting. Lou stopped by and asked me to go to lunch with him. He said he wanted Italian, so I brought him along. I knew you’d have more than enough, but food will have to wait now. We need to take a formal statement from you down at the station.”

  “I’ll make it up to both of you,” I promised.

  His mouth crinkled into a smile. “I’m sorry if I ever doubted you could take care of yourself. But I have to confess that I never thought of your tomato sauce as a lethal weapon, Tess.”

  Twenty-Eight

  By the time I had given my statement to the police and Gino had dropped me off at my house, it was after two o’clock. Sam had second-degree burns on his face and neck and was being treated at Harvest Park Hospital. He’d confessed to both murders and insisted that Izzy was not involved, that he’d acted on his own. While I still believed Anthony’s selfish, money-grubbing daughter was somehow complicit in my husband’s murder, it was only Sam that was on his way to his new home—a jail cell. The nightmare was finally over.

  The first thing I did after slipping my shoes off was to check on Luigi, who was curled up in a ball on the couch. He purred with contentment as I stroked his soft head and rewarded me with a sleepy meow. My wonder kitty. If he hadn’t distracted Sam, things could have ended very differently.

  I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and sat down next to Luigi with my phone and pile of unread mail. I scrolled through the texts that Justin had sent last night.

  At 10:30: I’d like to stop by and see you, if that’s okay.

  At 11:05: Found your license outside but your car is gone. Everything all right? Did you and Gabby go somewhere?

  After that, he must have found my phone, because I didn’t receive another text until 1:30.

  It’s crazy to send this because I don’t know if you’ll see it. I found your phone—that scared the hell out of me. Gino just told me you’re okay. Thank God. If you need me, call. Any time of day or night. I’ll always be here for you.

  The words tugged at my heart. Luigi began to knead my lap with his paws, and I absently scratched him behind his ears. “I was too hard on him.”

  Luigi emitted a squeak, as if to say he agreed with me. “He’s a good guy, isn’t he?” Despite my sentiment, the cat had already lost interest. He jumped off my lap in search of a more interesting place to snooze.

  I typed out a quick text. I have to go out for a little while but can I make you dinner tonight? I owe you.

  There was a knock at my door, and I glanced up with a start. After everything that had happened in the past couple of days, my nerves were shot. I glanced out the peephole in the door, smiled, and opened it. My neighbor Stacia was standing on my porch in a pink housecoat and matching foam rollers. She had a sympathetic smile on her face and a glass pie plate in hand.

  “Looks like you had a rough day, honey. Saw all the police cars and flashing lights earlier. You okay?”

  Nodding, I gestured for her to come in. “Everything is fine.”

  “Well, I thought after all that trouble, you could use something sweet to eat, so I made you another apple pie. I thought it might remind you of Dylan, in a good way.” Stacia followed me into the kitchen and set the plate on the counter.

  “That was so thoughtful of you. I’m not really hungry right now, but I’ll have a slice later for sure.”

  “Of course. I always have a tough time eating when I’m upset too.” She patted her rollers, as if to make sure they were still there, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. “There was another reason I stopped by. I did that thing Dylan asked me to do.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “What thing?”

  “He gave me a sealed envelope about a week before he died. He said it was our little secret, and I shouldn’t mention it to anyone. You know, like working undercover.” Stacia giggled. “It was already addressed with the correct amount of postage. That young man of yours was always so thoughtful. He told me that if anything ever happened to him, wait a few weeks and then drop it into the mail. The envelope should be arriving at its destination today.”

  Pain settled in my chest. Why would Dylan have a neighbor send a package, and what could have been in it? Finally, I’d thought there were no more secrets. “Do you remember who the envelope was addressed to?”

  “Oh sure, to a Rico Lucchese. Dylan wrote on it Do Not Bend, Photographs Inside.”

  For the first time since Dylan’s death, I laughed with a true sensation of joy. Rico was going to receive the photos, and Izzy would not get her fairy-tale wedding after all. Karma could be a wonderful thing. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Thank you so much for the pie and the…um…update.”

  Stacia looked surprised. “Oh, of course, dear. I mean, who doesn’t like apple pie, right?” She waved and then headed for the door. “Sorry to rush off, but I’ve got trays of cookies in the oven. My son and his wife are coming for a visit, and he asked me to make him some. I’ve got a busy afternoon of baking ahead for me.”

  “Sounds like fun.” I watched her cross the street, thinking of Sam’s earlier words—how Dylan wanted to take care of me. I still had no idea what he had done with the money he’d coerced from Izzy or the cash Anthony had given him for his part in the drug ring. Had he bought a yacht or a new sports car? If so, where did he hide it?

  My gaze fell upon the stack of mail that had been accumulating on the coffee table for a few days. I shifted though it, then finally decided to open a large manila envelope from our mortgage company. I hoped that the payment wasn’t going up. I slid my nail through the flap and pulled out a letter, quickly skimming its content. It congratulated me on paying off our mortgage.

  There had to be a mistake. We were only two years into a thirty-year loan with $200,000 still owed on it. I flipped through the rest of the papers
and stopped when I saw the original promissory note and mortgage we’d signed together. A large red PAID and CANCELLED had been stamped on the top. Dylan had made enough payments in the last six months to completely pay the loan off.

  The papers slipped from my shaking fingers, and I closed my eyelids against the tears building inside. This was why he was blackmailing Ned, Anthony, and Izzy. This was why he’d wanted in on Anthony’s drug ring. I could barely swallow around the lump in my throat. Our home was paid in full. I summoned an image of Dylan in my mind, one with the wind blowing in his hair and a smile on his face. “Thank you,” I whispered out loud. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

  I opened another envelope from our life insurance company. There was a letter inside, and a check was attached, made out to me. The amount was $200,000. I blinked twice—okay, maybe three times. This couldn’t be right. We’d both had policies for $100,000. Was this some type of mistake? Dylan might have tried to increase it after he found out he was sick, but good luck doing that with a preexisting medical condition. There was a toll-free number on the letter that I went ahead and dialed. The agent asked me for some personal information and then assured me that the amount was correct.

  “According to our records, Mr. Esposito doubled the policy amount about a year ago,” she said. “He even prepaid it five years in advance. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No,” I whispered into the phone. “Thank you.”

  After she’d clicked off, I continued to stare at the check. How ironic. Today was Dylan’s birthday, but he’d given me a present instead. Two presents. A house to call my own and an insurance payment large enough that I could pay off all our bills, including what I owed the funeral home, and buy a new vehicle.

  This wouldn’t do though. The money he’d used to pay off the house had been gained illegally. Somehow, I was going to pay it back, or perhaps pay it forward instead, to some local organizations. Silently, I vowed to replace every single dollar he had taken.