Cappuccinos, Cupcakes, and a Corpse (A Cape Bay Cafe Mystery Book 1)

by Harper Lin

We were quiet, neither of us feeling the need to put our pain into words. That was all I had wanted in my first days back in town—to sit quietly and think about my mother. I stole a few glances at Matty. I’d only seen him briefly on the day I got back then again at my mother’s funeral. I wasn’t in much of a state of mind to pay attention to how he looked either time. I could see that, despite the tension and anguish in his face, he had been aging well. He had grown his thick, dark hair longer than he wore it in high school, but it was still a preppy, business-like length. He still had the same warm brown eyes. Back in school, those eyes could make me melt. We’d never dated, but that hadn’t stopped us from flirting, and he’d been an expert at using those big brown eyes for that.

  I didn’t know how long we sat there. After my mother died, I’d felt as though I’d barely sat down on the train in New York when we arrived in Boston, so we could have been on that couch for five minutes or two hours. Time passed differently when your life was falling apart. There was a quiet knock on the door before it opened. I popped up off the couch, ready to fend off any prying neighbors, but it was just Mike. I sat back down next to Matty, who was staring off into space.

  “Just going to take a few pictures,” Mike said, nodding at us.

  I nodded back as Matty continued staring.

  Mike stepped into the master bedroom, and I saw the flash from his camera as he moved around the room, taking pictures. He went up the stairs next, and I heard his heavy shoes moving around the floor above us. Matty glanced at the ceiling then looked back at the spot on the carpet he seemed focused on. I leaned back on the couch and crossed then uncrossed my legs.

  Mike came down the stairs a few minutes later and nodded at us as he passed through the living room to the back rooms of the house. I heard the click of the camera and saw the flash as he took more pictures. He seemed to be spending more time in the kitchen than he had in the other rooms. Finally, he came back into the living room and took a couple of pictures before sitting on a chair across from us. Matty didn’t look at him until Mike cleared his throat.

  “Did you find anything?” Matty asked, his voice hoarse.

  “There were no visible marks on the body,” Mike said professionally.

  I cringed at his reference to “the body.” That body had been Matty’s dad just hours earlier. At least I hoped it had only been hours.

  “They’ll want to do an autopsy. Standard procedure to determine cause of death.”

  Matty nodded.

  “Nothing appears disturbed in the house,” Mike said.

  “Can you tell me if your dad drank coffee throughout the day or just in the morning?”

  “He makes a pot in the morning,” Matty said, forgetting to use the past tense. “He drinks most of it before he goes into the shop then takes a travel cup with the last of it.” Matty wrinkled his forehead, looking more alert. “Did Dad make it into the shop this morning?”

  Mike shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll check on it. Would you normally hear if he didn’t go in?”

  Matty sank back on the couch, shrugging. “Who knows? Dad would get in a mood sometimes and just decide he wasn’t opening the shop that day. I’d drive by and see it closed and freak out, but when I’d call to check on him, he’d say he just didn’t feel like cutting hair that day.” He shrugged again. “Who knows? You know how Dad could be.”

  Mike nodded as he scribbled in his notebook. I wasn’t sure what recent events Matty was referring to, but I remembered that Mr. Cardosi could fly off the handle at perceived slights. I remembered one time when the paper boy had delivered the Boston paper but not the local one and Mr. Cardosi went on a tirade. He had been certain the paper boy had done it deliberately, that the editor of the local paper had told him not to deliver it, and that there must be something negative about Mr. Cardosi in that day’s paper. My grandfather had taken him our copy of the paper to show him that there was nothing about Mr. Cardosi in it at all, but Mr. Cardosi just accused him of being a part of the plot against him. He’d looked suspiciously at my grandfather and the paper boy for months after that.

  “Do you know if there was anyone who had a grudge against your dad? Who might want to hurt him?” Mike asked.

  Matty scoffed. “My dad’s enemies are more in his imagination than in real life.”

  “Any close friends? Girlfriends? Anyone your dad might have been close to? We probably won’t need to talk to them, but it’s good to go ahead and get it in the notes.”

  Matty shook his head. “No, I mean, there’re the guys at the barbershop—the employees and the regulars—but I don’t think he really socialized with anyone outside of work.”

  Mike nodded and scribbled. “When was the last time you talked to your dad?” He was starting in with the same questions he’d asked me.

  Matty visibly crumpled. “A couple of days ago. I’ve been so busy. God, I wish I’d called him. I just—I just had no idea it was the last time I’d talk to him.”

  “Did you see him that day or just talk on the phone?”

  “The phone. I haven’t seen him since last weekend.” Matty bent forward and put his head in his hands. “If only I’d known it was the last time. I would have hugged him, told him I loved him.”

  “Were you and your dad close?”

  “As close as he was to anyone. He’s not a real sociable guy. Wasn’t.” Matty caught himself referring to his dad as if he were still alive. “He wasn’t a real sociable guy.” As if using the past tense hurt him all over again, Matty made a choking sound and covered his face with his hands.

  I rubbed Matty’s shoulder. I suddenly realized how lucky I was that I’d spent the hours after I found out my mother was dead on a train instead of being questioned by the police.

  “I’m sorry, Matt.” Mike looked over the notes he’d been scribbling as he talked to Matty. “Just a couple more questions. Did your dad have a will?”

  “Yeah, I think so. It’d be in the safe in his closet.”

  Mike looked up with his eyebrows raised. “There’s a safe in the closet?”

  “Yeah,” Matty said. “You didn’t see it?”

  “I just took pictures of what was visible. I didn’t open the closet.” Matty started to stand, but Mike raised his hand for him to stop. “Whatever’s there or not there isn’t going to change while we’re sitting here. Let's wrap this up, and then we’ll go look.”

  Matty sank back onto the couch.

  “What about life insurance?” Mike asked.

  “Yes,” Matty said. “He got it after my mom died, so I’d have something if anything happened to him. The paperwork should be in the safe too.”

  “You’re the sole beneficiary of both of those?”

  “Yeah.” Silence fell for a few seconds, then Matty snapped his head up to look at Mike. “Wait, you don’t think—”

  Mike held up his hand again. “No! No, no, no! Just making sure I have all the information. Like I said, we probably won’t need to use any of this, but it’s better to go ahead and get it all now.”

  Matty nodded.

  Mike looked between his notebook and us several times then made a face and took a breath. “So you, uh, you showed up here at the same time as the ambulance, Matt.”

  I looked at Mike sharply. Despite his denial seconds before, the way he was talking to Matty made me suspicious.

  Matty either didn’t notice or ignored it, nodding in response. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Were you just driving by?”

  “No, Mrs. Howard across the street called me. She saw Franny hanging around, and I guess she called here and no one answered, so she called me. She saw you pull up while we were on the phone and told me to hurry.”

  “And where were you when you got the call?”

  “I was in the car, on my way home from work.”

  “So you just drove over here instead,” Mike said.

  “Yeah.”

  Mike nodded and scribbled some more in his notebook. “I think that about wraps it u
p for me. What’s the best number to reach you?”

  Matty gave him his cell phone number.

  Mike jotted it down then looked at us. “Okay, want to show me the safe?”

  Matty nodded and pulled himself up off the couch. Mike followed him across the room, and I brought up the rear. I lingered in the doorway as Matty walked to his dad’s closet and opened it. From where I stood, I could see that the safe was still closed. Mike pulled his camera back out and took a couple of pictures.

  “Can you open it up for me?” Mike asked.

  Matty knelt in front of the safe. He spun the dial a few times then popped it open. Mike leaned in to take a few more pictures, then he nodded at Matty. Matty reached in and pulled out a stack of papers.

  “Everything there that you expect?” Mike asked.

  Matty sat on the foot of the bed and flipped through the papers. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t really know everything he kept in here, but here’s the will—” He pulled out a stapled bundle of papers and set it next to him on the bed. “And here’s the life insurance paperwork.” He laid the single sheet of paper on top of the will. “Do you need to look through these?” He held the other papers out to Mike.

  “No, just wanted to make sure nothing was missing.” Mike glanced around the room. “Speaking of missing, do you see anything that’s not where it’s supposed to be?”

  Matty looked around. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, well, if you notice anything, just give me a call, okay?” Mike reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card that he handed to Matty. “One for you, too.” Mike passed another one to me.

  I looked it over then put it in my pocket with my phone. I saw Matty put his on top of his dad’s will and life insurance policy.

  “Unless there’s anything either of you want to ask me…” Mike looked between the two of us.

  I shook my head.

  “Matt?” Mike asked.

  Matty looked up as though he’d gotten lost in thought. “What? No.”

  “All right then, I’ll be on my way. If either of you think of anything else—” Mike was interrupted by a loud rap on the front door before it swung open.

  One of the paramedics stuck his head in. “Hey, uh, Mike, we’re about wrapped up out here. Does he want to—”

  Mike nodded, understanding what he was being asked. He turned to look at Matty. “Matt, would you like to see the body before they take it away?”

  I saw Matty’s face go pale. He sat frozen for several seconds.

  “There’s nothing—no visible—” Mike stumbled over his words.

  “Yes,” Matty croaked, standing. “I’d like to see him.”

  The paramedic pushed the door farther open and stepped back outside. Mike went out first, then Matty, then me. The stretcher was on the front walk, a body bag containing Mr. Cardosi’s ample form strapped on top of it. I almost bumped into Matty when he hesitated on the front step. The paramedics were standing at a respectful distance, and Mike stepped onto the grass so Matty would have room to walk by. Several of the busybodies who populated the neighborhood were gathered in front of Mrs. Howard’s house across the street, gawking.

  “You can do it, Matty,” I whispered.

  He glanced over his shoulder at me, nodded, and gave me the slightest of smiles. He stepped down the two front stairs and strode down the sidewalk to the stretcher. He stopped about a yard away, took a deep breath, and walked the remaining steps forward. I stayed at the bottom of the steps, not wanting to crowd Matty. He looked at his father’s face, the only part of him not zipped up in the body bag, for a few minutes then stepped back and nodded to the paramedics. They walked forward, zipped the bag up the rest of the way, and wheeled Mr. Cardosi to the ambulance. They slid the stretcher into the ambulance, closed the doors, got in, and drove away as we all watched in silence.

  Mike shuffled his feet as Matty stood perfectly still on the sidewalk. Mike glanced at me then at Matty.

  I walked forward and put my hand on Matty’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

  Chapter 4

  BEFORE WE COULD EVEN TURN around to go into the house, the neighborhood busybody contingent flocked across the street, past Mike on his way to his car, and surrounded Matty and me.

  “Matteo, what happened?” “Was your dad sick, Matty?” “Francesca, dear, how did you find him? You were just walking home?” “What a fortunate coincidence, you finding him! He could have been out there God knows how long if you hadn’t happened along!” “What an unfortunate coincidence, what with your mother just passing!” “If you need any help going through his things, Matteo, I’d be happy to help. You know, I’ve lived just down the street there since your parents first moved in, back before you were even born.”

  The women’s voice overlapped and merged as they went on and on in their chattering and so-called condolences that all too frequently sounded more like thinly veiled insults and criticisms.

  “Such a tragedy, losing both your parents. And you so young yet!” “You’re all alone in the world now! Neither of your parents will be there to see you get married when you finally find the right girl!” “Oh, your children won’t have any grandparents!”

  At that point, I grabbed Matty’s arm and pulled him through the crowd toward the front door of Mr. Cardosi’s house.

  “Didn’t Mike want us to look through the house?” I asked loudly.

  “I can help you!” one of the women called.

  “No, no, we have it!” We were almost at the door.

  “I know where everything belongs! I spent quite a bit of time with Gino!”

  Matty and I whirled around. Matty had specifically said that his dad didn’t really socialize, so I wanted to see who was claiming to be his close friend. It was Mrs. Collins, a widow who lived across the street and two houses down, directly across the street from my house. She was rather well known for her, well, let’s just call them “exaggerations.” I narrowed my eyes at her, telegraphing a “back off” message. She stopped in her tracks at the edge of the group of women. Without taking my eyes off her, I pushed Matty toward the front door. I backed through it after him then slammed it and locked it for good measure.

  “Thanks for that,” Matty said as I stalked to the back door to lock that too.

  Satisfied that we would have no surprise or accidental visitors, I walked back to Matty. “They should be ashamed of themselves.”

  I glanced around and noticed the living room curtains were open. I didn’t put it past a single one of those women to walk through the flower beds and stare in, so I pulled the curtains closed, glaring through the window at the lingering crowd before I did. I walked through the first floor and closed the rest of the curtains before circling back to Matty, who was still lurking in the entryway.

  “That should keep them at least from being full-on Peeping Toms,” I said.

  Matty nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked around. “He’s really gone, huh?”

  The aggression I had felt toward the meddling neighbors vanished, and I was filled again with sympathy for Matty. I rubbed his upper arm with my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  He was quiet, staring at his shoes, then he looked at me. “So you found him?”

  I swallowed hard and stepped back, shoving my hands deep in my pockets. “Yeah,” I said as I nodded.

  “Did he look—? How did he—?”

  “I thought he was asleep,” I said softly, understanding what Matty was asking.

  “And you didn’t see any—”

  “No.”

  Matty nodded and looked at the ceiling with a sigh. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I scoffed. I’d found his father’s dead body and called the police. That was nothing special. In fact, I wouldn’t have blamed Matty if he’d been angry with me.

  “Finding him, calling the police, saving me from the biddy brigade out there,” he listed.

  “I didn’t do anything special.”

/>   “Who knows how long he would have been back there if you hadn’t walked by?”

  I shrugged. “I’m sure it wouldn’t have been long.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Matty said. “Any time is too long.”

  I nodded sympathetically. My mother had collapsed in public and been whisked straight to the hospital. I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to know that your loved one had been lying somewhere, dead, for an extended period of time.

  Matty took another deep breath. “Should we look around? See if there’s anything missing or out of place that Mike didn’t notice?”

  “We?” I asked, surprised. We’d been close growing up, but I had barely seen Matty since high school. Even though I’d been thrust back into his life, I didn’t expect him to want to share such a personal moment with me.

  He shrugged. “I don’t really want to be alone. And you’ve just been through the same thing. You’re not going to be all nosey and stuff, asking me a bunch of intrusive questions about how I feel about everything.”

  Well, that was true. The first days after I’d been home, several of my mother’s “friends” had come by, including some of the women from Mrs. D’Angelo’s Ladies Auxiliary. They supposedly wanted to express their condolences, but they’d seemed more interested in poking around the house, making snide comments and asking not-so-subtly about what had gone wrong with my fiancé. The people who came by and just wanted to express their condolences and sit quietly with me, drinking a cup of coffee while I stared into space, were few and far between, but they were much more what I needed as I struggled to process everything.

  “Okay then,” I said. “Where do you want to start?”

  “Living room?” Matty suggested.

  That seemed like as good a place as any, so we walked back to the room where we’d sat and waited for Mike what seemed like ages ago, even though it had only been an hour. We worked our way through the house, one room at a time. Matty looked around in each, surveying the contents. He told me stories about the objects in each room—souvenirs they’d picked up on vacation, the lamp he’d broken when he threw a baseball through the open window while playing catch with his dad, knickknacks that his grandparents had brought over from the old country, trinkets that had belonged to his mother. I already knew a lot of the stories from growing up with Matty, but I let him share them anyway. I knew how much he needed to talk about his dad without any pressure from me.