Bake Me a Murder

by Carole Fowkes

  My call went into his voicemail and I asked him to call me back at his earliest.

  While waiting, I checked messages on my office phone. One from Hank Dorkowsky, reminding me of my doggie doo-doo surveillance. Like I could forget agreeing to hide nearby at night and digitally capture the offending dog that pooped on his lawn. Hank could do the task himself for free, but I guessed he would rather someone else humiliate themselves. Now I wished I’d turned the job down. As soon as Dorkowsky had walked into my office, with his AC-DC tee-shirt barely covering his belly, I took a dislike to him.

  After I finished this pooper caper, I promised myself no more animal cases, but since I’d taken his down payment, I’d go through with it.

  I planned on dressing incognito. Nobody needed to know about this lowly assignment.

  The other message on my office phone came from my father, sounding like he’d just heard a good joke. “Hey, Pumpkin. It’s your dad. Could you do me a favor and call Gino on his cell phone. Seems Casanova abandoned the Miami ladies and followed one to Tampa. But it was a no-go.” Dad’s voice turned serious. “He’s kind of low right now, so maybe hearing a friendly voice could help. Thanks.”

  I groaned at the request, but family is family, including Gino. Plus, the guy did hire me when I really needed a job and left the business, such as it is, to me. Most of the time Gino’s heart is in the right place, but his temper can get him in trouble. Like with the Workers’ Compensation faker Gino punched. Wasn’t long after that Gino retired to Miami.

  While I looked up his number, I idly wondered if my former boss liked Tampa. From there, the idea hit me as hard as a five-day-old bagel. If I could convince Gino to do some digging in Tampa, he might uncover why Coco died in Cleveland. Worth a try.

  First, I’d offer my condolences and see what he needed. I would not share with him my father’s amusement. Everyone has the right to be a fool for love at least once.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Gino? It’s Claire. How are you doing?” I wanted to keep it light and let him open up to me.

  “Hey! It’s great to hear from you. Listen, mind if I give you a ring in say, fifteen? In the middle of something important. Ya know how it goes.”

  “Sure, Gino. Whenever you can.” I squinted, my curiosity aroused.

  I sat at my desk and leafed through the notes I’d taken on Merle and Coco. Twenty minutes later my phone rang. Gino.

  “Sorry for that. Some guy was bustin’ my ba—uh, giving me a hard time over a parking space. Geez, you’d think this was Miami Beach instead in Tampa.” He blew out a breath and continued. “Maybe your dad told you I moved to Tampa. Not the place for me. Pretty city, and most people are nice here, but not my kind of action. Can’t go back to Miami yet because of this condo I’m renting. I’d lose my shirt leaving now.” He let loose with an embarrassed chuckle. “But I’ll get back to Miami soon as I can. The women are pining for me there. Now, enough about me. How’s business?”

  How lucky is this? I suppressed a laugh. That was probably what Mrs. Lincoln thought when she got tickets to the Ford Theatre. “As a matter of fact, I got a case this morning. Missing person. The woman’s name was Coco Sanchez and she was a dancer in Tampa at a place called The Venus Trap.”

  “I know that place.”

  Of course he did.

  He coughed softly. “Pass it every day. Want me to get some background on this Coco chick?”

  “Yeah, and here’s the tricky part.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “She was murdered.”

  “Sweet mother of Jesus! Branching out the business, huh?”

  “Sort of. So far my client looks like he’s going to be a ‘person of interest’. I think he’s innocent. During the time Coco was in Tampa she was in a relationship with an ex-con named Federico Carreras, Rico for short. Could you find out the whole story?”

  He sighed and I thought he’d turn me down. “When do you need it?”

  “ASAP.” I asked the big question and winced even before hearing the answer. “How much do you want for doing it?”

  “You expect me to take money from you? You’re Frankie’s kid, for God’s sake and my, what’dya call it, protégé.”

  “Come on, Gino. I didn’t work for you for free.”

  His words came out in a slow fashion and I imagined him adding up figures. “Shouldn’t take me long. Let’s say $100 and call it good.”

  I didn’t have that kind of money, but maybe he’d take a postdated check. “Okay. You’re great, Gino.”

  “Not everyone thinks so. I’ll call you when I get the lowdown on Coco.”

  “Be careful, please.”

  He chuckled. “I can still take care of myself.”

  I hoped we both could.

  My stomach growled and I thought about getting something to eat before going on my doggy-doo assignment. Alex calling put my hunger on the back burner. A smile spread across my face even though I reminded myself it was business. “Hi, Alex. I appreciate you getting back to me so soon.”

  “Not a problem. It gave me an excuse to call and something to look forward to.”

  “Glad you feel that way, but this is about one of my clients who could be in real trouble. I’d hoped you’d know the name of a good, but affordable, lawyer. I hope you don’t mind me asking.”

  He released a deep breath. “So, because I’m Michael Bucanetti’s nephew I must know hundreds of lawyers who defend lowlife criminals?”

  The pitch of my voice rose. “No, that’s not it. You know my cousin, Anthony, so I thought you might—”

  He chuckled. “It’s okay, Claire. I’m not offended, but maybe I should be. Tell you what. If you have dinner with me tonight I’ll ignore your faux pas and put together a short list for you.”

  I checked the time. “Love to, but it’ll have to be a quick one. I have an assignment tonight.” Don’t ask me about it. Please, please.

  “We can work around that. Shall I pick you up at your office say at seven?”

  “I better drive myself so I can go straight to my stakeout.”

  He teased. “Catching a bad guy conducting some nefarious business?”

  “Something like that. Sorry I can’t tell you more. Client confidentiality.” No way was I going to admit what I planned to do tonight. I was thankful he didn’t pursue the subject.

  “Fat Cats or Lolita’s in Tremont?”

  “Both are good. You choose and text me.”

  After we said our goodbyes, I grabbed my notes, camera and gun. Not that I expected to shoot the dog, but I was getting used to having the gun as security. I’m still scared of things like balloons bursting and getting lost, but now I can be a little less afraid of what or who can, in reality, harm me.

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday, 7:00 p.m.

  I beat Alex to the restaurant and reviewed my notes for my stakeout. I had three hours. Plenty of time for dinner and conversation. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. Besides being hunky, Alex was polite. He didn’t try to tell me what to do, like Corrigan. I couldn’t ever picture Alex calling me pigheaded. He probably wasn’t looking for a relationship, so even better.

  Alex waved when he spotted me in the restaurant. I smiled, forcing my mouth not to break into a clown grin.

  “Claire, so good to see you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here are some names and numbers of lawyers for your client.”

  “Same here and thank you for putting the list together.” My eyes skimmed it and noticed my cousin wasn’t on it.

  Alex must have read my thoughts. “Anthony’s good but doesn’t fall into the inexpensive category.”

  I laughed, relieved. No way did I want to have my client work with my sleazy cousin.

  He took out a pen and starred one of the names. “He’s the lawyer I’d try first. Harold Goldfarb. I understand he’s a little unusual, but a great lawyer.”

  I placed my hand over Alex’s. “Thanks again. I so appreciate this. So will my client.”
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br />   He unfolded his napkin. “No problem. Now, let’s have a great evening before you march off to do battle with the foes of justice.”

  If he only knew.

  We ordered drinks and toasted my attempt to thwart evil. We toasted to attorneys both good and cheap. Then we toasted to honest judges. Lightheaded, I set my chocolate martini down. “I think we better order dinner now.”

  Alex leaned over and, as if we were co-conspirators, whispered, “No matter what the waiter recommends, save room for dessert. They’re worth it.”

  Good looks, a steady job, and he understood the importance of dessert. What more could a man offer? Corrigan popped into my mind without warning, but with an angry mental sweep, I dismissed him. “Appreciate the heads-up on dessert.”

  We both laughed and placed our orders with the waiter. The evening whizzed by. One moment we were cooing over our meal. The next, our forks clanged against our scraped clean dessert plates.

  I checked the time. We’d spent three wonderful hours together, but like Cinderella, my time at the ball had to end.

  “Alex, I’ve had a great time. I wish we could continue this, but duty calls. Thank you for dinner and the lawyer list.”

  He settled our bill. “We have to do it again. Soon.” He stood and helped me out of my chair. “Can I at least walk you to your car?”

  “Of course.” He escorted me from the restaurant to my vehicle and even opened the door for me. Instead of getting in, I kissed him on the lips. A short one.

  “That was nice. Didn’t realize opening a car door could get me that response.”

  “Yeah, it can. Just don’t try it on strangers.”

  He laughed and I got inside, turned the ignition and…nothing. I gritted my teeth. “Come on, Bob. I just had you fixed.” I pumped the gas and tried again. A futile whirr was the only response. Oh, crap! I checked the time again. Not enough of it to get towed and pick up a loaner. My hands started sweating. I had to get that evidence tonight.

  Alex said, “Maybe you need a jump. I’ll bring my car over. Sit tight.”

  In other circumstances a hottie like Alex offering to jump me would set me afire. But I had a renegade doggie to check out and that squashed any ardor I could feel. I tapped my foot and worried I’d miss the clandestine poop I was assigned to photograph.

  It didn’t take Alex long to pull up in his Mercedes, and for a moment, I was flooded with car envy. He popped his hood, I popped Bob’s and, with battery cables connected, we waited. My car refused to rise to the occasion and I was sunk.

  Alex disconnected the cables. “Let me take you to your assignment. I’ll catch a few winks while I wait for you.” My mouth twisted and he added, “I won’t spy, I swear. You don’t have time to switch cars.” He looked around. “This isn’t exactly a taxi hot spot either.”

  I weighed my options. Swallow my pride and get paid or refuse to let him in on what this all-important job really was. Gino’s rule number three: “Don’t let vanity get in the way of a meal.” Of course he meant not to let an expanding waistline interfere with enjoying food, but I molded the saying to fit my situation.

  “Okay. It’s a deal. Just promise me you won’t get out of the car and follow me.”

  He smirked. “This must be top secret.” He crossed his heart. “I promise.”

  I grabbed my camera from Bob’s back seat and we hopped into Alex’s car. Somehow I’d muddle through tonight’s assignment. I wondered if Alex would respect me in the morning.

  Our conversation was minimal. I was too uneasy to be witty. When we pulled on to Hank Dorkowsky’s street I yelled, “Stop.”

  Alex slammed on the brakes and we both jerked forward.

  “Sorry. Guess I shouldn’t have yelled out.”

  Alex heaved a sigh. “That’s okay. We’re all in one piece.”

  I half-smiled, but I wasn’t sure he could see it in the dark. Dorkowsky’s street was poorly lit. Maybe it was just as well. I undid my seatbelt and opened the car door with every intention of going solo the rest of the way.

  Alex grabbed my arm. “Are you going in there?” He pointed to a home with a ‘For Sale’ sign and a yard full of tall grass and weeds.

  “No. The job is a little down the street.”

  “It’s dark out there and late. I told you I’d wait in the car and I will, but let me at least walk you to the house. Then I’ll come back to the car.”

  Four guys were loitering on the corner, across the street. I swallowed some of my pride. “Why don’t we drive closer to where I need to be?”

  “Sure.” He sounded relieved.

  When we pulled up to my client’s house, I motioned for Alex to stop.

  He whispered, “Are you supposed to go inside?”

  “No. Wait here. Please.” I opened my door and slid out. That’s when I noticed a four-legged creature approach Dorkowsky’s lawn from the backyard. I ducked behind a tree. The collie sniffed and circled a spot.

  “Come on, do your stuff.” I said under my breath. My camera at the ready, the dog circled one last time and squatted. I snapped a photo, then another. The dog, hearing the noise, stopped what he was doing and barked. He bounded toward me yapping loud enough to alert another nearby dog, who barked in comradeship. The collie circled me, wagging its tail and nipping at my feet between yelps.

  Hank Dorkowsky’s lights went on and he appeared, his short bathrobe flapping in the breeze. He held a baseball bat in one hand and a flashlight, which he shined at me, in the other. “I thought it might be you.”

  Then why the bat?

  The dog balanced on his two back paws, breathing hard. My client dropped the bat. “Codger, what are you doing out here, boy?” He patted the dog on its head and he snarled at me. “I hired you to catch the vagrant mutt doing his business on my lawn, not to drag mine out here and pose him as the vandal.”

  I responded in a measured tone. “I got here and this dog was doing his thing on your lawn.”

  Dorkowsky disagreed. “Not possible. He was locked up for the night. You let him out. You didn’t want to spend the time waiting for the guilty animal so you took the easy way and used Codger.” His voice rose. “You won’t get away with it.”

  “I did no such thing.” Codger began barking again and to be heard over him, I shouted, “How would I have even known you had a dog?”

  “You’re a con artist.”

  “What?”

  He waved his flashlight at me. “You heard me. I want my money back.”

  Alex, no doubt watching all this, stormed from his car and grabbed my client by the collar of his robe. Dorkowsky’s flashlight bounced and rolled toward the tree.

  Alex’s growl was as fierce as any dog’s. “Whoever the hell you are, don’t ever threaten this lady again or I’ll shove that flashlight where you’ll need surgery to remove it.”

  “I wasn’t threat—”

  Alex jerked Dorkowsky a single time.

  “I mean, she’s supposed to find the dog depositing his stuff on my lawn.”

  There. It was out and I wanted to sink into the ground.

  Alex glanced over at me and released my client. I couldn’t read Alex’s expression. Didn’t matter, because the flashing lights of a police car caught our attention.

  While the collie barked himself into a frenzy, the black and white parked. A patrolman, flashing his badge, approached Alex, Dorkowsky and me. “Okay folks. A complaint came in and unfortunately my partner and me were in the neighborhood. What’s going on here?”

  I gave the cop my business card. “Officer, this gentleman hired me to perform a surveillance of his lawn at night, but he forgot and came out to defend his property. My assistant here was informing my client and me of the misunderstanding. So you see—”

  Dorkowsky interrupted. “No. She wasn’t doing what I hired her to do. Can you arrest her for that?”

  “What do you mean, arrest me?” My hackles, whatever those are, were raised. “You attacked me. You’re the one who should be arrested.”


  The officer shook his head. “I’ll arrest everyone if you don’t disperse. Settle it in court.”

  I’d made myself enough of a fool for one night. I was ready to leave. Ready to even forget the rest of my fee from Dorkowsky, much as I needed it.

  Alex put his arm around my shoulder and guided me to his car. He turned his head and warned Dorkowsky. “You’ll be hearing from us.”

  I took small comfort in Alex’s use of ‘us’ after tonight’s humiliation.

  Alex started his car up. “That’s two.”

  “Two what?” Do I really want to know?

  He pulled away from the curb. “I’ve had two dates with you and both have been the most bizarre evenings I’ve ever had.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t know what to say.” I wasn’t being coy; I really had no idea how to respond.

  The air inside the car grew heavy with…oh, God. I smelled dog poop. A flick of the overhead light and I saw it was all over my shoes. I’d messed up my assignment and now, Alex’s car. “I’m so sorry.” I wanted to spontaneously combust. “Could you pull over so I can scrape it off?”

  Alex lowered his window. “Good idea.”

  I got out of the car and ran my shoes over someone’s grass and then on the curb to get as much of the disgusting stuff off, but the smell lingered. I removed my shoes and headed back to the car.

  Alex wrinkled his nose. “Would you mind putting those things in the trunk?”

  We didn’t talk until he got me back to my car. I wondered if he planned on kicking me out and speeding as far away as possible. I wasn’t prepared for his next question.

  “If you don’t have anyone to tow your car, I’ll call someone.”

  I thought of my dad’s friend, Tommy, but it was late. He may not even answer his phone. “I’d appreciate it if you’d get hold of your guy.” One more favor.

  I couldn’t read his expression, but imagined him later cursing the day he met me.