Heated and Spiced With Murder (A Josie Rizzo Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by J R Pearson

  "No, you haven't! We worked together on this."

  "That's sweet you think so. You're no longer needed."

  "No longer needed? I thought we were in—"

  "Love?" Betty laughed, then coughed. "Nonsense."

  "But we.... Those nights at my place...didn't mean anything to you?"

  "Oh, let it go. Now that Marco is gone, I can finally be the woman he prevented me from becoming."

  "Yeah, and you have me to thank. I was the one who killed him." Josie's jaw hit the floor. Ramirez’s confession was coming from down a hall, feet away from where she and Tony stood. She moved forward a step but Tony tugged her back.

  "What are you doing?" he whispered. Josie took out her cell phone and pulled up the recording application.

  "I want this conversation recorded so we can shove it up Gibson and Perkins's noses," she replied, then inched closer, Tony right on her heels.

  "So you killed my husband. Blah blah. Do you want a damn cookie?"

  "I want what you promised! Half of the business! It took a lot for me to break into Manny's office to get the gun. What if something happens and the police start to look at me?" Ramirez, suddenly panicking.

  "Get a grip," Betty snapped. "They've already arrested Manny, and everyone knows he and my husband didn't like each other. It’s all worked out perfectly."

  "For you. You didn’t lift a finger." Ramirez paused. "Hold on... Were you using me?"

  "What’s done is done," Betty said, simply. "You can go now."

  “I am not leaving until I get what you promised!" Ramirez bellowed.

  "Lower your voice," Betty hissed. "I’ve had enough—” Josie flinched when she heard a hand connect hard to skin, and Betty crying out. Josie was about to suggest they do something when her cell phone went off. Unlike Tony's vibrating buzz of an incoming call, Josie's was a shrill of bells and whistles.

  Perfect.

  Why now? she wondered. Of all the time in the blazing universe, WHY NOW?

  Ramirez darted out the hallway, eyes bulging at the sight of Josie and Tony. He bolted past them, out the entrance.

  "Jo, stay here!" In a flash Tony was gone, sprinting after Ramirez. Josie rejected the call, and fortunately her phone directed back to the recording app. She saved the entry and went to find Betty, who was slumped against the wall—silently weeping, and cradling her reddened cheek.

  Josie crouched in front of her. She wasn't afraid Betty would attack her. From the growing sobs and look of defeat, it was apparent Betty was done.

  “Betty…”

  “Oh.” Betty wiped her nose, sitting up straight. “Want to hear the specials for the day?” she asked, sarcastically.

  “What did you mean when you said Marco prevented you from becoming the woman you wanted to be?” Josie asked. Betty exhaled sharply. A laugh, it probably was.

  “Heard everything, huh? You gonna call the police?” Betty smiled sickly. Josie stayed quiet. “Wow. Even after Marco’s death, I’m still getting screwed.” Betty shrugged. “Well, if you must know, my husband was manipulator. A good one at that, too. He always seemed to turn things in his favor. I had no say in anything. I never even wanted to run a restaurant.” She glanced around in disgust. “I don’t even like spicy food! I was gonna turn this place into a spa. Something I’d finally have control over.”

  “Did you know your husband started Pico de Gonzales on the money the Giovanni crime family loaned to him?”

  “Really?” Betty wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. “I figured it was coming from somewhere. I mean, come on, before we lived in that school building you call a house, we were in a one-bedroom duplex the size of a coat closet.” Josie was aware that she should be calling the police right about now, but she wanted to hear Betty’s confession in full.

  “You’ve had his murder planned ever since you met Ramirez,” she began. “During your affair with him, you convinced Ramirez to kill Marco and put the blame completely on Manny?” Ramirez, Manny’s employee for so long, obviously had some knowledge as to where his boss kept his gun.

  “Two months ago the idea sprang up,” Betty confirmed. “Manny and Marco’s ongoing feud was perfect to take advantage of. At first, I wanted Jacob just for a meaningless fling. But as time passed…I couldn’t keep going back to Marco, and yet he always found a way to say the exact words that had me crawling back to him. I never hesitated. A divorce wasn’t going to help.” Betty wrung her bony hands. “I needed him permanently out of my life. In hindsight, off this planet, too.” Mascara-stained tears streaked through the foundation on her cheeks.

  Josie left her, weeping again, to call the police. Josie didn’t want to go into the bargain Betty had made with Ramirez in sharing the restaurant in exchange for Marco’s assassination. What she did care was they were both guilty, and Manny could now be set free. Dispatch picked up and she relayed the situation.

  “Be sure to pass this along to Detective Perkins and Lieutenant Gibson," she finished, then hung up.

  Where the heck is Tony?

  "Betty, we should wait outside—" Josie turned around and the moisture in her mouth dried.

  Betty was gone.

  "No way." Josie swiveled around. Betty hadn’t gotten past her. Down the hall led only to the men’s and ladies bathroom. Josie’s heart clanged against her chest, like the clanging that was coming from behind the men’s bathroom door. Josie nudged it open and instantly met Betty's designer-jean bum. She stood on the circular flusher of a urinal, while her top half was out of sight through a wide window.

  Lovely.

  This crazy woman was not getting away. Josie wrapped her hand around Betty’s ankle.

  “Cut the crap, Betty! Get down!” Josie dodged a pointy-heeled sandal as Betty kicked. “I’ve already called the police.”

  “I didn’t do a damn thing!” Betty yelled. “Jacob killed my husband! I’m not getting dragged to jail and sharing a toilet for nothing!” Does she not know what the definition of conspiracy is? Betty kicked again, this time catching Josie square in the chest, knocking her flat on the floor. Thankfully, she had a cushiony rump, or that would've hurt. On her feet again, she snaked her arms around Betty’s legs, holding on for dear life, and pulled.

  It was a tug of war that, sadly, Josie was losing.

  She underestimated Betty’s upper body strength, and soon they were through the window, Josie getting scraped by the window’s rough edges, and into the—crap! Dumpster below.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tony accelerated his pace, as he was just a few yards behind Ramirez. They ran the whole length of the parking lot. Hitting the sidewalk, Ramirez continued into the street, barely missing cars and motorcycles. Tony broke through a pause in traffic. He imagined Manny—laughing, and doing what he loved with a frying pan behind the stove.

  The man who was like a surrogate father.

  It was the fuel Tony needed to keep his mind focused on reaching Ramirez.

  And not worry about being flattened by a city bus.

  Ramirez dashed through pedestrians. He risked a glance behind him, tripping. Tony lunged at the man, bringing them both down hard. He swore when a shot of pain fired his knee. He lifted himself off Ramirez, who remained down—holding his bleeding nose, the pavement doing a number on it. A teenage boy carrying a skateboard in one hand and a cell phone in the other, rushed to Tony.

  “Hey, man! That was so wicked!” The kid shoved the square object in Tony's face. "I got the whole thing on my phone!"

  A couple blocks away, the shrill of sirens approach.

  ***

  Betty and Josie landed on black, debris-filled trash bags whose contents Josie didn’t want to know. She was already graced with foul-smelling matter that leaked out of the swollen bags. Her hand came away from her hair, sticky with white cream.

  Mayo? Maybe. Whatever it was reeked, and she gagged.

  Betty was screeching like a mad-woman on the other side of the large dumpster, trying unsuccessfully to claw up the sludge-covered
sides like a cat escaping bath time. Josie attempted to brace her short legs on the wobbly bags but ended up collapsing onto—holy snapper, was that fish guts?

  Betty jumped again, not realizing her sandal strap was caught on a tear in a bag, and once she catapulted up, she was immediately brought down—disrupting a mountain of trash that came crashing onto her. Her loud screams were muffled, then muted. Josie hoped the woman wasn’t dead but simply knocked out by all the funk that consumed her.

  Pulling out her phone from her back pocket, Josie dialed Tony’s number on her goopy yellow screen. She imagined her backside mirrored her phone. She hit the speaker button when he answered.

  “Jo! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” A bag behind her twitched and made a squeaky noise that sounded awfully like a rat. “For now. Where’s Ramirez?”

  “The police are here, arresting him,” he said. Josie exhaled in relief, then quickly plugged her nose.

  Inhaling… Presently, not wise.

  “That’s a relief,” she said, nasally.

  “What’s wrong with your voice?”

  “Congestion.” She glanced at Betty’s legs sticking out from under the Stank Avalanche. “Betty is more or less talking at the moment. Just direct the police behind the restaurant.”

  “Why behind? Aren’t you inside?”

  “Not technically.” She was inside a dumpster. That much was true. “I’m sort of in a sticky situation.” Also true if you counted what was dripping down her arm. On the other end, she heard him swore under his breath.

  “I’ll be right there. Don’t move.”

  “I kinda don’t have a choice.”

  ***

  Detective Perkins and Lieutenant Gibson materialized shortly after officers hauled Betty and Josie out of the dumpster. Josie, always grateful, gave Gibson and Perkins a giant hug, taking great care in showing how much she appreciated the brave men who got up each morning to do their duty—by depositing her horrific oily odor onto them. The looks on their faces then were just as hilarious as their expressions moments later when she played Ramirez's confession.

  “Would you like me to hit replay?” she asked sweetly. Gibson curled his lip.

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’ll be sure to send the station a copy.” She batted her eyelashes, then flounced away to Tony, who was waiting for her at his truck. A blanket from his emergency kit was laid over the passenger seat.

  “I guess this is the throne thy queen of the kingdom of putrefied must sit upon.” She pointed.

  “After you, your highness,” Tony smiled, bowing while holding his nose.

  “Oh, come on. I don’t smell that bad.”

  “Ohhhh, yes, you do.”

  ***

  Once more, the soothing sound of guitar strings swirled in the air, pairing nicely with the exotic shake of maracas. Josie and Tony were gussied up again and sat in the outside patio area of Tortillas and Beans. The day's humidity receded to a tolerable coolness.

  Josie pressed herself closer to her handsome boyfriend. Tony winked before kissing her. They were redoing their date that had been interrupted, nights ago.

  Although instead of a party of two, their date contained a party of eight.

  "Who drank the rest of my margarita!?" Greta demanded.

  "You did!" Brad said for the umpteenth time.

  "I don’t think so! Someone here is sneaking sips of my juice!"

  "That person is you!"

  "Hey, Josie I think I’ve come up with the perfect solution to tracking your whereabouts,” Reese said across the table. "There's also a way for you to call for help in case you're in trouble. All I need to do is make a small incision in your arm—"

  "Reese, you are not micro-chipping me!"

  Underneath the table, Petey chewed the buckle on her flats. Every so often he'd stop to lick her ankle. Tony's Great Dane, Jade, galloped around the table, patrolling for discarded leftovers.

  After Betty and Ramirez were arrested, she informed Brad that she'd be home soon after she and Tony enjoyed one more night at Tortillas and Beans. Somehow Brad took this an invitation and he, Greta, Petey, and Jade drove all the way from Greenville to West Emily to dine with them.

  What a ride that must’ve been.

  Reese and Russell tagged along too, claiming they wanted to meet Manny. Though from the smirk on Reese's face, he was there solely to bug his sister.

  Manny breezed through the patio doors carrying a large tray of stuffed peppers and extra-saucy enchiladas. He set down the food, then lifted a glass.

  "Before we eat…" he said.

  "Is that my drink!?" Greta pointed.

  "No, it’s not!" Brad exclaimed. "Yours is sitting right there, empty."

  Manny cleared his throat. His thick mustache twitched.

  "I’d like to propose a toast,” he announced. "To Tony, Josie, and her brothers for helping me out of the bind I was in. I am incredibly grateful for your loyalty and friendship. If there is anything you ever need, please do not hesitate to ask. I am forever in your debt." Tony smiled at the older man and raised his own glass.

  "To friendship."

  "TO FRIENDSHIP!" They all clinked their drinks, including Greta, and her empty glass.

  "Let’s eat!" Manny doled out everyone’s dish. Josie was about to plow through her cheesy enchilada when her phone rang. She excused herself and moved to the far end of the patio. Petey trotted after her.

  "Hello?"

  "JOSIE RENEE RIZZO!”

  Dammit. Why hadn't she checked the caller ID?

  "WHY DO I HAVE TO HEAR FROM SOMEONE ELSE THAT MY OWN DAUGHTER IS IN A RELATIONSHIP?"

  "Hi, Mom."

  "WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU WERE DATING TONY SANTINO?"

  “I—"

  “I think that’s wonderful, honey. He was such a nice a young man. I always wondered what he was up to after all these years."

  Josie released a breath she didn't know she’d been holding.

  "I’m glad you think so—"

  "BUT WHY HAVEN'T YOU BROUGHT HIM TO SEE YOUR FATHER AND ME?"

  "Well, because—"

  "ARE YOU ASHAMED OF ME? IS THAT IT? YOU'RE ASHAMED OF YOUR MOTHER?"

  "No! That’s not it all."

  “Then you shouldn’t mind bringing him to brunch next Sunday. Ten o’ clock. Don’t be late.”

  Click.

  Petey whined, tilting his head. She bent to scratch behind his ear.

  "There’s not enough burritos in the world to prepare us for what's coming."

  Josie hadn’t taken two steps to where her friends were happily feasting on chili-covered heaven when her phone went off again.

  You've got to be kidding me. She pressed “Answer,” and immediately pounced on her mom.

  "If you're wondering what Tony had to say about next Sunday's inadvertent summons to brunch, please note that I hadn't even gotten the chance to blink ten times yet."

  "Pardon?" said an unfamiliar voice. Josie cringed inwardly.

  "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn’t—uh... Who is this?" she asked.

  "My name is Rebecca Woodland from W.E. Press. I am a representative for Forks and Knives magazine. Am I speaking with Josie Rizzo?"

  ...Representative for Forks and Knives magazine.

  Be cool, Josie told herself. Be cool and breathe.

  "Yes, this is she." Of course her voice came out high-pitched.

  "Hello, Ms. Rizzo. You've sent in a submission profile for us to review. And as you know, this week we're contacting those who've tickled our taste buds," Rebecca chuckled. "So, this call is to inform you that your submission has been reviewed by our top editors, including James Carthy, the founder of the magazine, and.... Congratulations, Ms. Rizzo! You've been selected!"

  "I-I-I've been what? Selected?" Josie's ears went numb. No way was she hearing Rebecca the Representative correctly.

  "Yes, we're happy to have you be a part of the Forks and Knives team!"

  Josie suddenly couldn't feel her feet. Breat
he, you fool! A voice shouted in her head.

  "Ms. Rizzo? Still there? Hello?"

  Breathe.

  I've been selected.

  Breathe.

  Is this really happening?

  Breathe.... Uh, oh.

  Am I going to faint?

  Yep.

  EPILOGUE

  Lounging at his estate, Mike Santino was brought a silver dish of poached egg over toast, and another mimosa. He liked having breakfast for dinner, from time to time. He picked up a remote and turned up the volume of his flat-screen TV that hung on the wall.

  "Here are tonight's top headlines; Officers in JewelCove apprehended a discarded boat. Inside, they found empty crates used to smuggle out the sculpture, ‘Fair Lady,’ by famous artist Devin Levine, last week. Police suspect the boat was used to transport more stolen art in connection with Sonny Switch. Sources tell us that police have a few promising leads, they hope resulting in the eventual arrest of the notorious thief."

  "Yeah, right," Vinny Larkins scoffed, sitting next to Mike. "They got nothing." He turned to his friend and boss. "Did I ever tell you that I like the name Sonny Switch? It’s got sort of a ring to it. You could get your towels monogramed ‘S. S.’"

  To only a select few, including Vinny, Mike was Michael Santino, his birth name. But to the world, he was the infamous Sonny Switch. Although the name was false, everything that was spoken of him was true.

  "In other news, following the recent slaying of restaurant owner Marco Gonzalez by twenty-seven-year-old Jacob Ramirez, who conspired with Marco’s wife, Betty Gonzales, cell phone footage has shown a man chasing after Jacob Ramirez through the streets in broad daylight."

  Mike watched his son weave through cars in the road, gunning after Ramirez. Mike knew his son hadn’t been hurt during the chase, but seeing Tony barely escape oncoming traffic made his gut twist. The clip fast-forwarded to Tony tackling Ramirez on the pavement.

  "I swear your boy reminds me of you," Vinny said. Mike couldn't hide his grin. The cell-phone video zoomed in on Tony's face, causing Mike to freeze.

  He has his mother's eyes.... Rose.