Bake Me a Murder

by Carole Fowkes

  Not wanting to upset a witness and lose his cooperation, I tried to look disappointed. “Thanks, but my policy is to keep my personal life separate from cases I’m working.”

  “Sure about that?” He flashed a smile but there was no warmth coming from it.

  “Yes. Sorry.” I was ready to make a fast exit when I thought of one more question. “In your statement you said you didn’t talk to Coco even though she smiled at you. Why not?”

  “She was standing in the parking lot waiting for something and I could see she was fine-looking. I would have made my move, but her phone rang and she answered it. My bus pulled up. Next one wasn’t scheduled to come for another half hour, so I hopped on. End of story.”

  My body tensed and for a second my breath stopped. Eric said Coco had left her phone at the lounge before taking off to see Merle. But Trace said she had it with her, so how did Eric end up with her phone? “Are you positive she was talking on a phone?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I seen what I seen.”

  “Did you tell the police this?”

  “No. They only wanted to know if she was here, what time, and if anyone was with her. I didn’t think to mention she was on the phone. Is that a big deal?”

  “You have no idea. Thank you so much.” Lucky for me his bus arrived. On first meeting the guy he seemed okay, but something about him made my stomach go queasy on me. It didn’t matter. He’d provided me with a big piece of this puzzle telling me about Coco being on her phone. Now if I could figure out how it fit.

  Unless Coco had two phones, Trace’s comments were a game changer. I called Corrigan. He didn’t answer and his voicemail was full. Next I called his desk phone and left a message there.

  Given this new information, it would have been foolish of me to question Eric alone. Plus, Corrigan would be furious. Still, I didn’t want to wait, and told myself as long as my questioning Eric was done in a public place, it would be safe. If I was wrong about the security issue, Corrigan might turn out to be right about getting myself killed. My turncoat heart made things worse by wishing Corrigan hadn’t left me on my own.

  On the way over to the lounge, I gathered my thoughts. Wanting Eric’s cooperation, I had to be careful with the wording of my questions. Otherwise, he could bolt. I’d start by giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe Coco did own two phones, or it was Bucanetti on the phone and he had her use a disposable one. Anything was possible; probable was a different story.

  My stomach bounced up and down all the way to my destination. Rather than nerves, I told myself it was the many potholes I managed to hit.

  Sunday, 11:00 a.m.

  It started to rain about a block from the lounge. Not good, since that meant it would be less likely Eric would be hanging around outside.

  Sure enough, Eric was nowhere in sight. I cursed and quickly took it back. I’d need all the divine intervention I could get. Staying on the good side of the saints was the smart thing to do, especially with Saint Anthony of Padua, the patron saint of lost things and PI’s.

  Dashing from my car and through the lounge’s door, I pushed my dripping hair from my eyes and looked around for Eric. No sign of him there, either.

  Behind the bar, Tony waved me over. “Not sure what you need, but it sure looks like you could use a drink to warm you up.”

  As a rule, I didn’t drink until the sun set. “Do you have coffee?”

  “Sure thing.” He poured brown sludge into a cup and I added lots of sugar. “Have you seen Eric today?”

  He shook his head. “He hasn’t shown up yet, but he will.” Tony glanced around the room. “Harold told me what happened at Padilla’s house. Damn shame.”

  I didn’t know if he meant for Merle or for himself.

  “Yes, it is. You should know the police are looking into it now.” Tony squeezed the coffee pot’s handle like it was my neck. I rushed to add, “I didn’t mention you, so you’re not on the hook for anything. I give you my word.”

  He relaxed. “Looks like your boy, Eric, ain’t coming in anytime soon. You want me to tell him you stopped in to see him?”

  “No, I’ll see him another time.” Catching Eric off guard at the lounge would be to my advantage, as would having other people around when I questioned him. Even a cuddly puppy can turn vicious if it feels threatened.

  My timidity wouldn’t stop me from staking out Eric’s place. I would wait until Corrigan called back, though. In the meantime I’d sit in my car and return calls.

  First on my list was Gino, but there was no answer. I left a message, hoping he didn’t have some vital information delayed by telephone tag.

  After a few more non-essential calls, I decided to try Corrigan’s cell phone again. He didn’t answer, but at least this time I could leave a message. Busying myself with other call-backs, the time clipped by at a steady rate, until I realized almost forty minutes had passed. Still no call from Corrigan.

  I picked up my phone to call him yet again, but my stomach felt like I was on a small boat in a big storm. Something didn’t sit right. I grabbed my purse, intent on heading straight to the police station. He may have been busy with another case, but my gut was sure that wasn’t it. If Corrigan wouldn’t or couldn’t talk to me, I had to find out why.

  Sunday, 2:30 p.m.

  I had just stepped out of my car when Corrigan pulled up and jumped out of his. As soon as I realized nothing was wrong, the tension in my neck released and my shoulders lowered to their natural position. In the next second my anger flared. Why hadn’t he called me back?

  Oblivious to my shifting emotions, Corrigan was all business. “I got your message about Eric. We’re bringing him in for questioning.” He stuck out his hand to shake mine. “Good work, Claire.”

  I hadn’t been treated in such a formal way since receiving my degree at graduation. To match his stiffness, I bowed from the waist and thanked him. Hit with the absurdity of our actions, I laughed, a split-my-sides, eye-watering roar. It felt good. Even better, Corrigan joined in.

  By the time the laughter died, Corrigan and I were standing inches from each other. We smiled and grasped each other’s hands. If we’d begun to spin it would have been like a feminine product commercial. I didn’t care; I was enjoying the moment.

  A call coming in to his phone and one to mine broke the spell. We turned our backs to each other and retreated into our individual conversations.

  My father started our call. “Hey Pumpkin, hate to keep bringing up this dinner, but I wanted to give you a heads up. Brian called me earlier. He’s planning on being here, but he asked me not to tell you. Guess it’s supposed to be a surprise, but I figured you’d rather know.”

  My lip curled into an isn’t-that-interesting, humorless smile. Corrigan probably imagined I’d be faint with gratitude for his appearance. My glare at his back was hot enough to burn through his coat.

  “Did you two have a fight or something?”

  I didn’t want Corrigan to know I was talking to my dad, so kept my voice low-key and professional. “A disagreement. Thanks for the information. I have a better idea how to proceed now.”

  “Brian’s with you?” My father chuckled.

  “You could say that.”

  “I’ll let you go, then. See you tonight. Love you.”

  Corrigan was still busy with his call when I finished mine. Good thing, because I needed a minute to decide whether to be angry at him or not for that bit of deceit. I could have chosen to be pleased because he wanted to spend the evening with me, but no, I picked being miffed that he went behind my back. Then, in a flash, my internal justice center reminded me how often I’d been a bit less than honest with him. In an instant my anger dissipated and I was filled with the desire to make things right, to snuggle into him and forget the past tricks we’d played.

  Next stop on this roller coaster was despair. Who was I kidding? We’d butted heads from the first time we met. Throw in my fear of relationships, and ours had about as much chance of smooth sailing
as the Titanic.

  I was still lost in my thoughts when Corrigan finished and spun around to me. “Eric’s at the station. I’m going in to question him.”

  “I’d like to be there.” My eyes held Corrigan’s.

  He didn’t respond. Instead he slipped his phone into his pocket and turned toward his car. After a few steps he looked over his shoulder. “You coming or not?”

  I broke out in a surprised grin and scrambled after him.

  “You can’t come into the interrogation room, but you’ll know what’s happening.”

  I was gurgling like a happy baby. “That works for me.” For a minute the sun in my world shone bright. Then came the clouds.

  We’d no sooner buckled up, when he added, “Of course there are limitations.” He zoomed out of the parking lot.

  I tilted my head and looked sideways at him. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re not a cop, Claire, so there’s only so much I can let you in on.”

  I pounded my fist on the arm rest. “Even though I discovered the discrepancy in Eric’s story, I’m supposed to stay on the sidelines until you decide it’s okay to throw me a crumb.”

  “That’s not what I said.” His words were clipped. “Why can’t you ever just go with the program?”

  Rather than respond, I stared out my window and took a second to calm down. “I want to know Eric’s part in this. Did he kill Coco? Or does he know who did? Like it or not, I’m part of the investigation.”

  Corrigan blew out a breath. “No, you’re not. You’re working for the alleged killer and your allegiance is with him. Yeah, you’ve turned over evidence to the police, but how do I know for sure you haven’t withheld anything pointing to Pokov’s guilt?”

  If we hadn’t been in the middle lane of busy Lorain Avenue, I would have demanded he stop so I could get out of the car. I tried to keep my voice even but failed. “How could you even think that?”

  Any unspoken wishes I’d had about the two of us smashed into pieces.

  Corrigan clenched his jaw and kept his eyes focused on the road. “I didn’t mean you were dishonest or a liar, but you haven’t exactly been upfront in this case. Or the ones before this.”

  I shifted, as if my seat was too hot. He was sort of right, but I wasn’t about to agree with him. On the other hand, to keep arguing the point was akin to punching a brick wall. I lifted my chin, determined to take control of the situation. “I’m changing the subject. Temporary truce, okay?”

  “Gladly.”

  No longer sure I still wanted him there, I asked, “Will you change your mind and come to dinner tonight at my dad’s?”

  He twisted his mouth from side to side, like he had to think about it. “Yeah, sure. We’re friends, and it would be good to see your father again.”

  Do friends kiss like we did? Rather than pose that question, I decided to see if Corrigan would squirm a bit. Without a hint of sarcasm, I said, “Good. I’ll call him right now and let him know.”

  Corrigan’s face flushed. “No. Let me do that—later.”

  “Shouldn’t you do it now so he has a chance to prepare?” To mask my grin, I leaned over and grabbed my phone from my purse. “I’ll get him on the phone for you.”

  When my dad’s number began to ring I put the phone to Corrigan’s ear. I was the only one in the car disappointed when my dad didn’t pick up. Ready to explode with laughter I whispered instructions to Corrigan. “Leave a message.”

  Corrigan grimaced. “Hi Frank. Brian here. I’ll be at dinner tonight. Hope it’s not any trouble to add another plate. That’s it. Thanks.” He hung up and noted, “We’re at the station.”

  He swerved into the parking lot and hustled out of the car with me scrambling to keep up. Once inside, he was all business, and I was relegated to a chair by his desk. He was briefed right away by another detective and headed to an interrogation room.

  I’d been tapping my foot for a while, waiting for Corrigan’s return. When he showed up, he looked like a starving man whose only piece of bread had been stolen. Not a good sign.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I stiffened, expecting the worst. “What happened?”

  He rubbed his hand over his face. “We had to let Eric go.”

  My nails dug into the chair. “Why?”

  Corrigan looked away from me. He yanked his desk chair back, plopped himself in it and took a deep breath. “Claire, look, we know he lied about the victim’s phone, but that doesn’t mean he killed her. Even with the revised statement from the witness at the apartment, it’s not enough to hold him.”

  “Eric’s involved up to his eyeballs in this murder. Either he killed Coco or he was there when she died.” My voice rose. “Does he even have an alibi?”

  Corrigan yanked his tie loose. “I checked it out myself. Two witnesses placed him at West City Lounge at the time of Coco’s death.”

  I was as desperate for something to grab as a woman being sucked into quicksand. “Maybe the witness was lying. Or drunk. Did you—”

  Corrigan gritted his teeth. “Claire, I know how to do my job.” He rubbed his chin. “I get you’re looking for someone other than Pokov to be guilty. But there’s no proof.”

  I clasped my hands together and propped them on Corrigan’s desk. “There’s got to be more to Eric’s involvement. It just hasn’t surfaced yet.”

  “Claire, don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” I gave him my most wide-eyed innocent look, but finding the evidence against Eric would be my task alone.

  He sighed and shook his head. “You know what.”

  I waved his concern away. “Are you picking me up tonight?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’re changing the subject and that’s okay with me. Is 6:30 all right?”

  “Fine. Now can you take me back to my office?”

  He shook his head. “Why do I feel like I’m driving you but going nowhere?” He picked up his car keys.

  In response, I merely gave him what I hoped was a mysterious smile.

  On the way to my office we engaged in non-combative conversation. That is, until he pulled into the parking lot. I opened my door and he opened his mouth. “Claire, I’m warning you. Don’t do anything dangerous.”

  I kept my voice light. “It’s only one hour until you pick me up. That doesn’t give me much time to do anything forbidden.”

  His face was stern. “You’d manage.” Just as I steeled myself for another lecture, he leaned over and kissed me, a lingering sweet one. “You drive me crazy but…”

  I relaxed, feeling like a cat stretching in the sun. “But what?”

  He gave me a half-smile. “Forget it. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Driving home, I prioritized what needed to be done for Merle. Unfortunately, my night was spoken for. I’d be meeting Suzy, Dad’s girlfriend. I grimaced. Even putting those two words, ‘Suzy’ and ‘Dad’ together made me feel like I’d eaten a lemon.

  That hour sped by and Corrigan knocked just as I finished my makeup. Dabbing at my lipstick, I hurried to the door to let him in. In that time apart, he’d managed to shower and shave, and I was reminded of how delicious- looking he was. He smiled, showing that seductive dimple. Had he read my thoughts?

  “You look nice, Claire. Are you ready?”

  I grabbed my jacket and purse and we were off. All the way to my dad’s I thought about Merle and wondered how early of a night I could make it without raising Corrigan’s suspicions.

  Sunday, 7:00 p.m.

  We arrived at my father’s house right on time. He was waiting for us at his door with the biggest grin I’d seen on him since that Christmas Eve party when he drank five cups of my aunt’s spiked punch. This time I didn’t think his good humor was due to alcohol.

  Despite his giddiness, my dad did remember Corrigan’s secret call to him. “Brian, glad you could make it after all.” Corrigan mumbled something indecipherable, but I still chuckled inside.

  Making our way to the kitchen, Cor
rigan and I met the reason for my father’s merry mood. Suzy rushed toward me, arms outstretched. “It’s so good to meet Frankie’s daughter. Claire, I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Frankie? I inched into the hug and was almost overcome by the strong aroma of White Diamonds perfume. I stepped back to make it easier to breathe and get a better look at my father’s friend.

  She was probably between 45 and 50. A bit young for my father, who was 62. Blonde hair she wasn’t born with, heavy eye makeup to bring out her green eyes, and red lipstick accentuating full lips. She’d poured her ample hips into pants that, could they talk, would’ve screamed for mercy. She wore a necklace that ended in the valley between her large breasts. All-in-all, she looked like a goodtime gal. I wanted to grab my dad and warn him about women like Suzy. What if she was the type who stuck around for the money, and when it’s gone, it’s goodbye, honey? My dad wasn’t wealthy by any means. But he did own his house and had a decent retirement plan. To some people that was a lot.

  I reprimanded myself for my snap judgment. If she made my father happy, I was happy. As long as she treated him well, she was welcome. I blanked out any negative thoughts about the two as a new couple.

  Suzy greeted Corrigan with just slightly less enthusiasm, but he responded to her like he’d known her before.

  Probably arrested her for soliciting once. I blinked. Stop it.

  My dad, beaming at Suzy, took her arm and mine. “Everyone into the dining room. Dinner’s about to begin.”

  Suzy giggled. “Frankie, I’ll do the serving. You sit down and visit with Claire and Brian.” She winked at me and wiggled back into the kitchen.

  As enjoyable as visiting with my father would be, it seemed more important that I learn about Suzy. “I think I’ll help her. Dad, you and Brian can talk without me around. Can’t you?”

  My dad chuckled. “Sure. You go on. Investigate Suzy. You’ll like her.”

  My face burned. “I didn’t plan on snooping.” That was exactly what I meant to do.