Killer Cannoli
The Terrified Detective: Book Two
Carole Fowkes
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Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter One
“Sorry, Claire, but he doesn’t look like a ‘Larry’ to me.” My father, Frank DeNardo, folded the dish towel and set it on the blue and yellow Formica countertop he and my late mother had installed the year after they’d moved into this house. His bushy black-and-grey eyebrows knitted together.
“Maybe it’s a nickname.” I slouched on one of my dad’s checkered kitchen chairs in his circa 1970’s kitchen and loosened my belt, regretting the extra helping of hot, crusty bread I’d devoured. Not for the first time I wished I’d inherited my dad’s eat-it-all, never-gain-weight metabolism instead of my mother’s walk-by-food, gain-five-pounds one. At 5’2”, sixteen ounces made the difference between comfortably wearing my jeans and having those red wrinkle lines on my hips from the material digging in. Now that I was 31, it was harder to keep at 107 pounds.
My thoughts returned to my dad’s concerns. “Anyway, is that why you don’t like him?”
“Part of it. He’s hiding something and that makes him no good for your Aunt Lena.” He pointed his index finger to make his point. “Someone should warn her.” He stared right into my eyes and said, “Claire, honey…”
I leaned back and threw up my hands. “Oh no. Not me.” Aunt Lena, my late mother’s sister ran one of the best Cleveland area Italian bakeries and cafes, Cannoli’s, and a better person you’ll never meet. She had a temper, though, and when she got mad, junkyard dogs were less intimidating than her. But then, what if my dad was right and this guy, Larry, was up to no good? As a private investigator was I responsible for my relatives’ poor choices in dating? I didn’t want to be, but Dad’s instinct screamed that Larry was bad news. But the thought of my Aunt Lena’s wrath at my interference made me cringe. A compromise would be best.
I put my arms around my dad’s neck. “How about if I just check into his background? If it looks like your hunch is good, I’ll do some investigating. If he’s an undesirable, then I’ll break it to Aunt Lena. Over the phone, where she can’t get to me.”
My father’s face lit up. “Maybe you could get that police detective to help.”
A blank look on my face. “Which detective?”
My dad smirked as if, with my reddish-brown hair and dark eyes, I’d claimed to be Swedish. “You know. The one who took us to lunch. He helped you on that other case.”
My nose wrinkled. “Oh. Him.” Of course, Dad meant Brian Corrigan. That good-looking, blonde hair, blue-eyed unmentionable man who had flirted with me. That same detective who, after the Adler murder case, said he’d call. And never did. Now I’d rather eat mushy pasta than ask him for help. “I’m sure he’s busy, Dad. I don’t want to bother him.” Choke him, yeah. Bother him, no.
I don’t know if my dad figured it out, but he didn’t pursue the subject. Instead his face hardened, like when Johnny Zysinsky threw a rock and broke our front window. “Whatever way you want to handle it is fine by me. But don’t get taken in by Larry, or whatever his name is.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve learned to keep my distance from clients or people I’m investigating.” In fact, I planned to check out Larry from behind the counter at Cannoli’s. Safer that way.
I left my father’s house shortly afterwards, carrying a covered dish of manicotti he’d made especially for me. The smells of melted mozzarella and ricotta cheese mixing with tomatoes, basil and oregano filled my car. Ordinarily, that would soothe me, like soft music calms dental patients. Not this time. Being the uncourageous person I am, paying attention to my gut feelings is the best way to keep myself out of conflict and danger. This time it screamed to avoid Larry. But I couldn’t do that. My duty to watch out for my family drowned out the noise.
Hoping I’d be too busy to go to Cannoli’s for a talk with my Aunt Lena just yet, I checked my voicemails. Not one message. I stuck out my lower lip and blew a breath into my bangs. Still wanting to delay this unpleasant Larry business, I decided to stop at my office anyway and store the pasta in my small fridge. Maybe when I arrived, there’d be some frantic soon-to-be client waiting there to see me, pacing and checking the time over and over. Or even better, one waving a fat check around, of course, begging me to find his lover who’d disappeared the previous week. I snorted.
I started my car and imagined a scenario in which Larry was actually some big-time gambler wanted by the Mob and by beautiful women everywhere. The idea entertained me, thinking about my aunt with someone like that. It also kept my anxiety about the reason for my visit to Aunt Lena’s bakery at a manageable level.
My aunt was in Cannoli’s kitchen when I got there. Instead of being covered in flour and banishing her coarse black hair back into her hairnet, she was putting on lipstick. The color could best be described as ‘sure-I’m-older-but-still-sexy’ red. More surprising, she had on a new dress with tiny beads. It was black and had probably been advertised as ‘suitable for dates or funerals.’
Before I could manage a greeting, she grabbed my wrist and whispered, “Larry’s here.” Her face showed all the excitement of a game show winner. She dabbed at her lips. “How do I look?”
I took in her abundant cleavage, overgenerous waistline, and dimpled arms and kissed her cheek. “The man doesn’t stand a chance.”
She blushed and giggled like a girl might the first time she’s kissed. My heart melted as I realized this warrior of a woman who held down a business and kept us all, including my widowed father, in line could have a vulnerable side.
I turned away so she wouldn’t see my face cloud with worry. If this guy hurt her, I’d make sure he incurred some injury himself. I chuckled when I realized that if he did do Aunt Lena wrong, he’d probably end up with a dent in his head from her rolling pin.
She hesitated at the door leading to the pastry counter and tables and pulled herself up straight, breasts out, stomach in as much as possible. “Wish me luck.”
I crossed my fingers for her good fortune and in the hopes he was legit. “Knock him dead.” Hoping I could catch some of their conversation, I threw on an apron and followed her to the pastry area.
Aunt Lena’s friend and part-time employee, Angie, was already there. She nodded her hello to me and out of the side of her mouth added, “You here to see your aunt in action?”
“Yes. No.…” I didn’t want to tell her I was spying for my dad’s benefit. “I want to talk to this guy. My aunt hasn’t been on the dating scene since she met my Uncle Tommy in the 1960’s and he passed away over ten years ago.”
“If you want my opinion, Lena could do better.” Angie tilted her head toward the back table. My aunt had just joined a man who was already seated.
I had to stop myself from wincing. Larry was not an attractive man. In fact with his pale coloring, long, pointed nose and tiny eyes, he looked like a white laboratory rat. I wondered how fast he could run through a maze. My nose curled up as I watched him nibble on a croissant. It was more than his looks that set my neck hairs at attention though. It was the incongruity. His pants shouted ‘cheap polyester’ and his shirt, a flowered leftover from the disco era, was unbuttoned to where it shouldn’t have been. His shoes looked one step away from the trash bin. But he wore two pinkie rings with diamonds bigger than the ones in my late mother’s wedding ring.
“Angie, you’ve met him. What do you think?” I asked in a low voice.
“His hair and skin are so pale he looks like he died about the same time as Lena’s Tommy. And those clothes
. Let’s just say he doesn’t follow fashion trends.”
I stifled a laugh as two customers approached the counter and I stepped up to wait on them but my phone vibrated.
Angie waved me away. “Go on, it might be one of your clients. I’ll handle this.”
I gave her a grateful smile and hoped she was right. But it wasn’t a client.
“Hey, kiddo. Ed.”
Ed Horwath was a security guard at a pharmaceutical firm and my new part-time assistant. Not that my business needed another person, since there had only been one big case at the agency since Gino, the owner and my father’s second cousin, left me in charge and retired to Miami. Before that, our clientele consisted mainly of men who wondered if their trophy spouses were cheating. A while after Gino left, a criminal case came along. That’s when I met Ed and he, in turn, almost got killed because of me. Another story, though.
“What’s up?” I hoped he wasn’t looking for an assignment. To tell the truth, I was still a little uneasy around Ed. He grew up in a tough part of Cleveland and while he swore he never punched anyone unless it was necessary, I think his definition of the term ‘necessary’ was different than mine was.
Besides, lately my business had shrunk from being bad to pitiful. What was even more pathetic was the type of cases. Take for example Gloria Wellsing, my latest client. She had me investigating who was secretly feeding her purebred Husky, Sheba, table scraps and making her fat. I couldn’t even admit to Ed I’d taken that job, but a girl’s got to eat. Maybe if I found who fed Sheba, I could wrestle some of the scraps away.
Ed cleared his throat. “Been pretty dull around here. Need some excitement. Got any for me?”
“Sorry, Ed. Nothing’s come in.”
“Okay. See ya.” He sounded like a kid who finds out the roller coaster has been closed for repairs. But I couldn’t do anything about it.
I turned back just in time to see Aunt Lena shake rat-man’s hand and head toward the kitchen. Angie nudged me hard. “Find out what happened.”
Not wanting to appear too nosey, I waited a moment then strolled back into the kitchen. Aunt Lena’s face was flushed and she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Damn menopause.” She picked up a towel and fanned herself with it.
As if it was only of mild interest to me, I asked, “So how’d it go?”
She leaned back, pretending to be blasé about it all. “He asked me out for tonight. I said yes.”
I coughed so the words, “Oh my Lord, what were you thinking?” wouldn’t escape my lips.
She raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Maybe you don’t think he’s Mr. Charming, but I do. I have more mature tastes.” She grabbed her apron and put it on. “Besides, he’s not a no-account who has nothing. And he’s practical. Says he’s got real good life insurance. Now, tell me to have a good time.”
I took her by the elbows. “Promise me you’ll play hard to get.”
She pulled her arms away and put her hands on her hips. “A smart woman knows what a man wants. Never mind what he thinks he wants.”
Having no desire to know which was which, I changed directions. “Where’s he taking you?”
He’ll meet me here at 7:00 tonight after we close. We’ll have dinner somewhere.”
My phone again. This time it was Dad, probably to ask me about Larry. I let it go to voicemail. “Aunt Lena, that’s exciting.” Maybe you should bring a piece of cheese. “My phone’s going crazy. I better get back to the office.” I kissed her damp cheek. “Have fun tonight.” I hurried out the door before saying something less than kind about Larry.
I turned the key in my car’s ignition. Nothing but an irritating whirr. I tried twice more. No difference. I couldn’t blame old Bob. He had over 190,000 miles and probably dreamed of retirement. But I couldn’t afford to replace him. Every day I hopped into his rust-covered body and prayed his tired engine would turn over, but I feared this time he’d run his last. Thankfully, I was wrong and with a congested huff, he started up. We sputtered along and I tried to figure a way to afford a newer car. I quivered inside every time I thought about Bob heaving a last gasp on a dark deserted road.
My phone rang. My dad again.
“Didn’t talk to him. I didn’t want to cut in on Aunt Lena’s action. He looked normal if you like rodents with poor taste in clothes, but I’ll do a background check on him when I get back to the office.” I hesitated for a moment then dropped the bomb. “She has a date with him tonight.”
“She’s out of her mind. We need to do a che cosa? An intervention.”
I shook my head. “Don’t do anything until you hear from me. Promise?”
He huffed. “Sorry, pumpkin. It’s just…she’s your mother’s sister and Theresa, God bless her, would strike me from heaven if I let something happen to Lena.”
My heart went out to my dad. Mom had been gone less than four years. He was still learning to live without her and, at the same time, deal with Aunt Lena. Aunt Lena, who thought it was her mission to smother my dad in her unique bossy way with food and advice. Now he wanted to protect her. I pulled into my office parking lot. “Call you as soon as I find something. Okay?”
I opened the door to my office, flicked on my computer and started to dig into the life of Larry Walters. Except there wasn’t any information to be had.
Most of my afternoon was spent searching for something on the man. I made some phone calls but uncovered nothing, not even an actual insurance policy on him. It was as if he didn’t exist or, at least, not under that name. My stomach felt queasy. I needed to get to Aunt Lena before Mr. Also-Known-As met up with her. I tried her cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail.
Right about now, she was probably squeezing her swollen feet into those red pumps she bought last Christmas.
Maybe my dad was right not to believe this guy was legit. Come to think of it, that paleness could’ve been the result of solitary confinement.
I grimaced, realizing I’d have to head Aunt Lena off. She needed to tell Larry Got-No-Past she couldn’t go out with him because of stomach issues— her brother-in-law’s gut feeling about him.
***
I sat in my car and pounded on the steering wheel as if that would make Bob start. But he wasn’t about to give in to threats or pleading. My car was dead, and it didn’t take an autopsy to see he died of old age.
It’d take my father too long to pick me up and go to Cannoli’s. There was Ed, but I hated to call him when I’d just turned him down for any work. With no other options, though, I ditched my embarrassment and gave him a call.
He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, what’s shakin’?”
“Ed, how close are you to my office?” I scrunched up my face and held my breath.
“About ten minutes. Do you have a job for me?” He sounded like a kid who’d just heard the ice cream truck coming down his street.
“Pro bono.”
He groaned. “Fancy words for I don’t get paid.”
“Relatively speaking. Actually, my relative. And I’m sure she’ll pay us back in delicious food.” The Owl, the greasy spoon Ed likes popped into my mind. Maybe he’d appreciate great cooking about as much as a cow likes Astroturf.
“Okay. If she makes pie, I’m there.”
My heart went back to its normal beat. “Can you pick me up? Car’s dead.”
“You got it.”
I checked the clock again. We could still make it to Cannoli’s in time although I dreaded confrontation, which made my job tricky sometimes. But in this case Ed could deal with Mr. Whoever-He-Really-Is. Muscle-to-muscle. Like my former boss, Gino, would say: ‘Only confront if you also have an exit strategy.’ In this case, I hoped Ed was my strategy.
Chapter Two
I waited in my office parking lot and began to pace after ten minutes. It took Ed twelve to arrive. By now, I envisioned having to separate Aunt Lena from Larry’s rat claws. I shivered. I should’ve talked to the guy. Let him know she wasn’t his type. I called her. No answer. My h
ands curled into fists and I pounded them together out of frustration.
Ed pulled up and honked. He flung open the passenger door for me. “Sorry, kiddo. Hit every red light getting here.”
Ordinarily, I’d smile and assure him it was fine. But this time, in a thin, high voice: “16543 Center Ridge Road and hurry.” I pointed straight ahead.
“Hang onto your hat.”
Before I could hook my seatbelt, Ed gunned the motor and we sped off. We took a corner so fast my soul had to run to catch up with my body. I decided it’d be best if I closed my eyes, but they popped open when my phone rang. It was Aunt Lena. My heart lubbed when it should have dubbed.
“Claire.” She voice quivered.
“What’s wrong?” It was only 6:50. Larry couldn’t have stood her up yet, but maybe she had second thoughts about her date.
“It’s Larry.” Her voice rose. “He’s dead.” Her sobs came so hard and fast, I couldn’t be sure she’d be able to tell me much more. But through the breaks in her voice she added, “Shot.”
My hand clenched the phone tight. “Where is he?” I held my breath, hoping he wasn’t anywhere near my aunt or her bakery. I hoped it’d happened in some flea-infested hotel where the other guests were skimpily clothed women and guys named John.
She swallowed loudly. “Here. At Cannoli’s.”
Great God. He’d been shot at the cafe. I flashed onto a scary scene in which his blood dripped down the éclairs, like Hannibal Lector’s idea of a tasty treat. “Are you all right?”
She sniffed. “How could I be?”
“I’m on my way there. Call 911.”
“I did. They’re on the other line. Her voice sounded muffled. “Hello, 911 operator? You still there?” Then, “Claire, they’re still on with me.”
I tried to breathe evenly. I’d read that keeps you and the person you’re talking to calm. I didn’t know if it worked over the phone, though. “I’ll be right there.”
Ed continued to floor it and I kept one hand on the dashboard, as if that’d protect me if we crashed.
Killer Cannoli (A Terrified Detective Mystery Book 2) Page 1