Nobody was in the living room or the kitchen. Fear clawed deeper into my heart as I entered the bedroom and bathroom. The apartment was empty and seemed to be the same as when I left it.
I was ungluing my hand from my gun when my insides turned to slush. I’d been in such a hurry to take Charlie outside I’d dropped my purse on the floor. But now it sat on the table. Someone had broken into my apartment and moved it. What had they taken? I grabbed the purse and dumped the contents on the sofa, tearing through everything. My wallet still contained one dollar and 59 cents and my driver’s license, tissues, mirror; nothing was missing.
Should I call the police or not? And say what? Somebody picked my purse off the floor? Waiting for my breathing to go back to normal, I decided not to report the break-in. The calmer I got, the less I wanted Corrigan to get wind of what happened and tie it back to my involvement on this case. I didn’t need him on my back just now.
***
That night, Charlie, growing bigger by the day, lay curled up beside me on the sofa. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep. Even with my dog and my gun next to me.
Feeling foggy-brained the next morning, I dragged myself off the sofa and into the shower to prepare for work. The queasy feeling about someone being in my apartment stuck with me. Would they return? The thought of Charlie being an easy target rubbed my conscience the wrong way. So rather than putting him back into his cage, I left him to roam around my place freely. After murmuring to him to be a good boy, I double-checked to make sure I’d locked up my apartment tight.
When I arrived at the office, the door was ajar and Gino was slumped over his desk. My heart jumped into my throat. Had Gino’s plan with the thuggish-looking man gone awry? I rushed over, only to see he was just asleep.
Once my heart returned to its normal position, I nudged him. “Gino, wake up.”
Eyelids fluttering, he finally sat up and stretched. He yawned, “Just resting.”
“Are you all right?” Despite my intellectualizing that his problems were self-induced and not really my concern, I was worried about him. “That guy that came here last night…”
“Lou? I’m just doing him a favor, for which he’ll pay pretty good.”
A vision of Gino going to prison floated through my head. “Legal or not?”
He tipped his hand back and forth. “Menzamenz.”
“How could something be half-legal and half-not?”
Through gritted teeth, he said, “Look, I gotta pay Griselli back. I’ll be damned if I let him take the ring from Betty.”
I knew when to back off. And I wasn’t his mother or his conscience. “Okay. But let’s see if we can find out the name of Jerry Wolden’s nephew.” My eyebrows shot up. “You don’t happen to remember if his name was Birch, do you?”
“Nah. I’d remember a weirdo name like that.”
My phone rang and to my surprise, it was Todd Shotswell, asking about my appointment. “Claire, I know this is short notice, but I’ve had two cancellations for tomorrow and was wondering if you’d be interested in moving your lesson up.”
I wrinkled my nose. Humiliating myself again wasn’t high on my priority at that moment. “Sorry, but I have plans for that morning.”
“Actually, I was thinking about the late afternoon, say three? If after this time, you’re convinced the sax in your hands is an instrument of torture, I’ll refund all your money.”
“You’re that confident I’ll be better?”
“Yes, I am.”
I could’ve just told him I wasn’t interested anymore, especially if he was interested in me in a romantic way. But the thought of getting all my money back was too tempting, especially knowing I had a bridesmaid’s dress to buy. “Sure. All right.” My only reservation now was where the money for this second lesson was coming from since it was no longer part of a case.
I got off the call but didn’t have a lot of time to ponder that question because Gino let out a loud whoop and dashed toward me waving a paper. “Found it! Found that sucker!”
“Page three? Let me see!” I snatched it from his hand and skimmed through the note. My shoulders dropped in disappointment. It wasn’t page three of the Wolden report. It was a letter some guy had written to Gino saying he owed Gino $500.
I sank into my desk chair. Great news for Gino, assuming he could collect, but not for my Red Bow Killer investigation.
Gino, no doubt noticing my disappointment claimed, “Well it’s good news for me. Now I’ll just need $3,500 more for Griselli. And that’s what Lou will pay me for finding—somebody.” He looked past me to the door. “Better go home, change clothes and collect on this.” He hit the paper with the back of his hand. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
My boss hadn’t been gone more than ten minutes when Lou, Gino’s mysterious client, walked into the office. He was wide enough to block any light between him and the doorway. “Hey, you Gino’s secretary?”
His voice rang out, but I didn’t even see his lips move under his heavy mustache. “Sometimes. Can I help you? Or would you rather speak with Gino?” I hoped for the latter.
“Nah, you’ll do fine. Tell him we located the person he was supposed to find.” He flipped through a wad of money and peeled off three hundred dollar bills. “Tell Gino this is for his trouble.”
Without another word, the large man left without looking back, even as I shouted, “Don’t you want a receipt?”
I peered down at the money in my hand. Not anywhere near what Gino had counted on. Thinking he didn’t have any time to lose in collecting what he owed Griselli, I called him, but it immediately went into voicemail. Not wanting to leave him a message he’d lost out on his deal, I asked Gino to call me right away.
As I was deciding what to do next, Corrigan sauntered into my office. He looked as disheveled as the previous day, but this time, there was a spark in his eyes. “Brian, what are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?” His voice held a tiny bit of the old cockiness. A tingle went through me. They’d caught the Red Bow Killer.
“Are you alone?”
After I nodded, he continued. “The killer struck again last night. But he got sloppy. The victim survived.”
I sucked in a breath. “She can identify him?”
His jaw worked hard as he considered his words. “She’s unconscious. But the doctor’s hopeful she’ll come out of it. She’s under heavy guard and almost nobody knows she’s alive. It’s gotta stay that way. If it gets out I told you, it could be my job.”
“Why did you tell me?”
“Fair’s fair. I asked you to inform me on everything you knew or found out. In return, I’d do the same, as long as it didn’t put you in any danger.”
My feelings were about as layered as lasagna. First, I was flattered and thrilled he’d confided in me, maybe even needed to. Second, I worried what would happen if the news did get out, and third, I was afraid the woman would die and the nightmare would continue. Topping all this was my concern over disappointing him and not living up to his expectations. Plus, that ever-present fear I’d lose my independence as a PI.
I never got to voice any of my concerns, though, because he got a call he had to take. A minute later, he hurried off. It was just as well. The last thing my favorite detective needed on his broad shoulders was an indecisive partner.
***
Alone once again, I continued to hunt for the missing page until I was ready to scream from frustration. At four, I knew I had to leave for Cannoli’s. There’d be no issues there, just pastries, family, and me. In between customers, I could plot my next steps if page three didn’t show up. Such as calling Jerry Wolden myself.
But I should’ve known I wouldn’t have the time. Cannoli’s was mobbed when I got there and we just kept moving, loading cakes, brownies, cannoli’s, and cookies onto the quickly emptying shelves. It wasn’t until nine forty-five that we could sit and rest. That’s when it started.
My aunt looke
d sideways at me. That meant she was plotting. “So I hear you’re going with Suzy to look at bridal gowns.”
Here it comes. “Not exactly bridal gowns. Just a dress for her to wear at her wedding.”
She shrugged. “Same thing. Who else is going?”
“Nobody, as far as I know. Why?” I was on my guard.
“Seems to me, Suzy needs the perspective of a more mature woman in choosing her dress. People remember what the bride wore.”
Yes, and who could forget my aunt’s own recently worn wedding dress with the huge rose that looked as if it would devour her ample breasts and then go for the rest of her?
I threw my hands in the air. “If Suzy’s okay with you coming to shop with her, who am I to object?”
Aunt Lena gave me a sharp nod, as if to show me the matter was settled. She’d tag along.
***
As soon as I opened my apartment door, there was Charlie, wiggling his hind end. He’d gotten into the magazines on the table. They were everywhere, but at least he hadn’t ripped them apart. Maybe he’d read them and could give me fashion tips.
Not long after an uneventful walk with my pup was ended, my bed called. It also must have called to Charlie, since he climbed in with me. The next thing I knew, it was Saturday morning.
I dragged myself from my cozy bed, dreading the day. If the wedding dress hunt only involved Suzy and me, it would have been fun. With Aunt Lena along, it would most likely range from being a mere struggle to an outright battle.
Driving to Crocker Park, I daydreamed my aunt changed her mind and allowed Suzy to choose her own dress. Pfff! That was about as likely as Aunt Lena wearing a miniskirt and thigh-high boots to Mass.
I arrived at Second Watch at Crocker Park a few minutes before nine. Taking a deep breath and rolling my shoulders back, I entered the restaurant. Suzy was alone. For a brief moment, hope flowered in my chest, only to be plucked at the root when Aunt Lena dragged herself in. She used her hand to fan herself. “Whew. I had to park on the other side of this place. It’s this heat. It must be 90 degrees out there.” It was actually 74 degrees.
“Lena! How nice to see you!” Suzy’s smile didn’t entirely mask her surprise at my aunt’s appearance.
“I hope you’re okay with me tagging along. I’ve known Frank a long time and I figured I could help you pick out a dress he’d like.”
“Oh. That’d be…wonderful.” Suzy’s smile waivered just a bit.
I squirmed in my seat, feeling guilty for not warning Suzy. But in my shortsighted, trusting way, I had assumed Aunt Lena had called her ahead of time. I could’ve slapped myself for not knowing better.
Perusing the menu, our conversation loosened and became rather pleasant. Orders placed, I thought it would be safe for me to leave the two women alone for the time it would take me to call Jerry Wolden and get his nephew’s name. It had to be faster than continuing to hunt for Gino’s page three.
It took even less time than I’d hope for since he didn’t answer, and I had no intention of leaving a message. I decided to try again later.
When I returned to the table, things were turning rocky. The banana chocolate chip muffin, yogurt, and diet pop I’d had were churning in my stomach.
“A form-fitting wedding dress is out, of course. Your figure is still good for your age, but tight clothes just look cheap.” My aunt sat back in her chair, as if she’d just explained String Theory.
Scanning Suzy’s face, I could tell she was debating her response. I jumped in, aiming to keep the peace. “It totally depends on the dress. Suzy will just have to try on a bunch of them. That’s what we’re here for.”
Suzy insisted on picking up the check. Then we strolled from store to store until we found a place with gowns befitting a wedding. I held up a lavender above-the-knee jersey knit that would complement Suzy’s figure, while Aunt Lena picked out a dark grey boxy dress that even a nun could wear without feeling guilty.
Suzy caressed the material of the dress I’d chosen. “Little too young for me. This would look great on you, Claire. And look! It’s on sale.” While I wondered if the stretchy material would drape over my less-than-svelte hips, Suzy pointed to the other outfit. “Lena, that’s you. Do you want to try it on?”
My aunt harrumphed. “Now that I look at it, it’s even a little too mature for me.” She returned it to the rack.
“Well I’m going to see how this looks.” I slipped into a dressing room. It fit nicely and, though, warm for mid-June, it’d be perfect for a September wedding. Relieved to have found my bridesmaid’s dress with so little effort, I felt like I was on a lucky roll. I called Wolden again. This time he answered.
I kept my voice down so the other two women wouldn’t hear. “Mr. Wolden, this is Claire from Francini Investigations. We handled a case for you a while back.”
“What? What was that?”
A little louder, “Francini Investigation Agency.”
“What do you want with them?”
“No, I’m with them. I have a question concerning your case?”
“Speak up. Can’t hear you if you mumble.”
“I’m not mumb—your nephew. Could you tell me his name?”
His voice rose. “Yes, he’s my nephew. Is he in some trouble?”
I took a deep breath. “No, I just need his name.”
“What’d you say? Damn phone. Can’t hear anything. You still there?”
“Yes. I just need his name.”
“Name? Gerald Wolden.”
“Does he have the same name as you?”
“Who?”
“Your nephew.” I switched the phone from one hand to the other.
“You want my nephew’s name?”
“Yes, please.”
He growled, “If you’re really from that agency, you should know it. This is one of those scams, I can tell. Don’t call this number again.” He was gone.
“Urhh.” I put my phone away, knowing I’d have to visit Wolden in person to get any information from him.
When I came out of the dressing room, Aunt Lena and Suzy were in a discussion by a rack of evening gowns. As I approached, my aunt held up a cream-colored V-necked dress devoid of all decoration save a small ruffle down the front. It wasn’t exciting, but at least it was tasteful.
Suzy, on the other hand, held a strapless gown with tiny gold sequins dotting the front and a large ruffle down the backside. It was…eye catching. And easy to see Suzy loved it. She actually glowed when she tried on the dress. It was clearly a case of the gown looking better on than off.
My shoulders relaxed. This shopping challenge had ended on a peaceful note with Suzy and me buying the dresses we had tried on. Only Aunt Lena seemed a bit out of sorts.
I checked the time. Enough left to visit Mr. Wolden.
Ahead of my travel time estimate, I was waiting patiently at the traffic light to make a left-hand turn onto the street intersecting with Jerry Wolden’s road when I glanced in the rearview mirror and stiffened. A dark blue sedan with a Smalley’s bumper sticker made a right hand turn and drove past me. It looked like the car that had picked up Wolden at bingo and at the chocolate store. Could it be Wolden and his nephew?
As soon as the light changed, I gunned the motor and did a U-turn. Maybe I could catch up with them. But by that time, they were too far away. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.
With less than thirty minutes to get to my sax lesson, I was tempted to call Todd and cancel so I could stake out Wolden’s home. But the need for my money back was pretty strong and Todd had promised he’d return all of it if I wasn’t happy. Right now I wasn’t happy I’d had to charge the bridesmaid’s dress. With the money I’d get back from Todd, I could actually pay the bill on time, rather than wait and hope Gino would reimburse me.
I began my route to Todd’s music studio.
Being Saturday afternoon, it was a challenge finding a parking spot. I circled the area twice, hoping somebody had vacated their space. No luck. Then I
remembered from my last session with Todd, that there was another parking area behind the stores. It was probably for the store owners only. Desperate, I swung around and drove there.
A few spaces were open but, as I thought, a sign stated they weren’t for the general public. That wasn’t what stopped me though. At the far end was the dark blue sedan I’d seen making the right turn earlier. And, unless I was very mistaken, the same sedan I’d seen pulling away after my first sax lesson.
My stomach tensed. Was Todd Shotswell Jerry Wolden’s nephew?
Our conversation about a relative in the hospital rushed back to me. Jerry had collapsed and was rushed to Fairview Hospital from bingo the previous night. I knocked the back of my head against the headrest. How could I have missed that? How did Birch fit into it?
Only one way to find out. I disregarded the warning sign and swerved into a vacant spot, grabbed my sax and my gun and took a deep breath. I forced my reluctant feet to turn toward Todd’s studio.
Chapter Twenty Seven
“Hello, Claire.” He checked his watch. “I was afraid you’d cancel on me at the last minute. I’m glad to see you didn’t.” He pointed to a nearby chair. “Please, have a seat so we can get started.”
Funny, I just realized how long and slender his fingers were. They matched his lanky frame. Amazing how some people could escape the common middle-age spread as he had. “Thanks.”
We began the lesson at the point at which we’d ended the first. With the same screeches and flat notes. I wondered how Todd could keep from covering his ears.
Fifteen minutes later, I lowered the sax and shook my head. “It’s useless. My talent must lie in other areas.”
“You mean other instruments? Could be. Are you interested in piano?”
“No, but maybe guitar? Know any good guitar players who might teach?” My tone was joking, but I carefully watched his reaction.
Cupcakes and Corpses Page 19