by Zoey Kane
Murder Dressed and Tossed
Curvy Soul Mysteries - 5
Zoey & Claire Kane
Breezy Reads
Contents
Thank you for reading
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
A Note from the Authors
Also by Zoey & Claire Kane
Thank you for reading
Murder Dressed and Tossed
1
Gia could hardly believe what her big green eyes were seeing. It was 2 a.m., so she rubbed her bleary vision away and looked again. Yep, still there! In her boyfriend Tony’s foyer, stood his estranged murderous father, the infamous Mike Santino. It had been nearly a decade and time had taken a toll on him. Gray streaked his otherwise dark hair, bags bulged beneath his eyes, and his formerly fit body now hosted a gut.
"Son, first of all, I'm not here to hurt anyone. The last thing I'd want to do is hurt you."
Tony glared at him in the shadows. “If you don’t want to hurt anybody, then why did you creep up in the middle of the night like some raccoon and destabilize my security system?” Although the gun wasn’t aimed at his father’s forehead anymore, Gia could see his grip tightening on its handle in anger.
“I have to be stealthy. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” Eyes wide, Mike rubbed some of his greased back hair in frustration. “Look, what you think you know about me, you don’t. Can we just have a seat in the kitchen and talk about all of this over some gin? There’s a lot to get off my chest.”
“I don’t have gin,” Tony said flatly.
"Okay, a beer will do."
“I don’t have that either.”
Mike glanced at Gia and gave a small smile of understanding. “Wine. Wine will be just fine.”
“We drank it all, Mr. Santino,” Gia informed.
Tony shot her a look, and she lifted her hands like “What?”
“You don’t have to refer to my estranged, whacked father so formally. He killed my mother. He deserves no respect. If anything, he should be six feet under, right now.”
Mike put his hands up. “I don’t need any drinks. I’m fine. Let’s just take a seat, huh? I promise to behave.”
Tony lifted the gun back up, aiming at Mike’s chest. “G, pat him down,” he ordered.
Gia hopped to it, not even hesitating. She enjoyed doing certain dangerously important things. Solving murder mysteries. Searching for a weapon on a man who should be behind bars on death row. A man who also smelled a nice musky scent. Not like one of the many deodorants from the grocery store but like the men’s department at Macy’s.
“Put your hands up higher,” Tony said, lightly waving the gun.
Obeying, Mike reached them toward the vaulted ceiling of recessed lighting that couldn’t be turned on, since he had tampered with the power. Gia finished checking his pockets and around his thighs. She came up with a switchblade that she released by pressing a small button. Moonlight sifting through a panel window glinted off its razor sharp edge.
“That’s all I got. That and my phone in my shirt pocket. I left my gun at home. I told you, I’m not here to misbehave.”
“What are you here for?” Tony asked, lowering his gun.
“To set the record straight. And to get your help.” He turned toward Gia. “The both of you.”
<<<>>>
Sitting in the shadows of the kitchen, at the small but nice table, Mike Santino cleared his throat for what seemed like the tenth time. Tony knew what that meant. His monster of a father was nervous. Finally, the monster said, “Maybe a glass of water will do?”
Gia stood to get it, but Tony firmly planted the palm of his hand on the tabletop beside her. “Oh,” she said, coming back to planet Earth. “That’s right. You don’t deserve even water. You can’t ask me for anything else either. I have some leftover homemade lasagna drenched in a creamy marinara sauce, in the fridge, but don’t even think you can have a bite.” Satisfied that she was curt enough, she sat back down in her seat and looked forward to the impending conversation. Just what did he want to get off his chest?
“What you saw that night,” Mike uttered to Tony, “it wasn’t like it seemed. I didn’t kill your ma. I would never lay a hand on her. In all your time growing up under my roof, did you ever witness me treat Rose like anything other than a queen?”
Tony didn't answer, but he had to admit he hadn't seen him mistreat her. Ever. A small part of him wanted to open the door to his heart and believe him.
“I loved her. I love you. You two were all I really had in the world.” His hands were clenched together on the tabletop, a thumb stroking a fist. “What I’m about to tell you next, will be hard to believe.”
Tony sucked in a deep breath, his wide chest broadening further. “As if that wasn’t hard enough.” He thought of the blood all over their linoleum. His mom face down in it. His father over her.
“I never went to jail. I paid off the cops. I’ve been living in the shadows since, looking for Rose’s true killer.”
Shaking his head and furrowing his brow, Tony said, “It can’t be. That can’t be true. I saw footage of you on TV, of being handcuffed and taken to jail.”
“When you have the right connections and the right amount of money, son, you can get away with murder.” Mike raised a finger and added quickly, “Even though I didn’t murder, mind you.”
There was a long silence in response.
Gia piped in. “For argument’s sake, let’s say what you’re telling us is completely true. You didn’t kill Rose. You’ve been a free man, and you’re looking for the true killer. Why here? Why now are you approaching Tony? What for? You said you need his help. And mine?”
“I thought in time I’d find the killer. But I didn’t. I got close, but never close enough. All signs have pointed to the Giovannis, but then I keep coming back empty-handed. You don’t know this, either, but I’ve been watching you from a distance, son. I’ve seen how you and Gia have solved some murders that the cops couldn’t solve for themselves. I’ve recently found a new clue, a missing link. So now I come to you both for help in finally solving the ultimate murder mystery.” His eyes bored into Tony’s across from him. “Your ma’s.”
2
Gia stretched in bed—Tony's guest bed, to be more accurate—and nudged something poofy and soft with her clenched hand. She'd recognize that sensation anywhere. It was Petey, her corgi, and the tantalizing scent of bacon was in the air. Upon her scratching Petey's back, he turned around and slumped down against her shoulder, his long pink tongue rolling out with a drip of drool. His dopey happy face made her instantly feel relief. Relief from some tension that she couldn't pinpoint the source of.
Oh yeah, she had a nightmare last night that Tony’s dad was loose from jail, had disabled the home’s security system, and was lying about being some secretly good guy simply seeking justice. “Hah!” she said aloud. “What a weird dream… Like that would ever happen.”
“Son, where do you keep the towels?” a familiar voice called out. It was apparently coming from just down the hall of the upper story.
“They’re in the closet across from the office, Pops!” Tony’s voice replied from somewhere further away. The kitchen, Gia determined. That’s where the bacon scent was drifting up from. It only made sense.
"Wait… what?!" Gia bolted upright in bed, her curly hair a mess. She scrabbled for her phone on the end table and quickly texted. Your father is actually here? I wasn’t dreaming?
!
A moment later, she received a reply. Yes, hurry down for breakfast, or it will be cold.
After getting dressed, she rushed down the stairs, Petey following after her faster than she’d ever seen his roly-poly self go. “What’s up with you?” Gia asked her dog. Upon entering the kitchen, Petey ran and slid to a stop by Tony at the stove.
Wearing a simple white tee and gray sweatpants, he looked good standing there. He eyed the furry beggar at his feet. “You’ve had like twenty already. No more for you, big guy.”
Petey’s marble brown eyes grew to the size of 50-cent pieces.
“Oookay, one more. But just one.” On a paper towel, he placed a bacon strip on the floor.
Gia came up behind her hot guy and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him. “You’ll be a great father someday,” she crooned in the moment. “I mean...” She snapped out of her daze, realizing the seriousness of such a statement. “You know, if you wanted to be one... with someone... someday. I’m totally not talking about myself. I mean, unless you want… Never mind.” She mashed her lips together and felt herself turning red. “That would be waaaay in the future,” she blurted in conclusion.
Tony turned around and pulled her in tightly. “Maybe someday,” he simply said and breathed, his heart beating in her ear. It felt comforting. He pulled back and gave a smile. “For years, I haven’t had a real father figure in my own life. For now, I’d like to spend some time being a son and getting to know who the guy is.”
The guy. That guy. Mike Santino. He entered the kitchen with hair slick and wet and a small nick from a razor on his square jaw. “Good morning, Ms. Gia,” he said, beaming a smile. “Tony and I already had a delicious breakfast together. We didn’t want to wake you.”
“Oookay…” Gia uttered.
She took her seat at the table where on a plate two sunny-side up eggs, two crepes and two pieces of bacon met her. As she ate, she watched father and son curiously. Mike filled the sink with sudsy water and started dishes. Tony wiped down the counters with a goofy grin.
The two were so chipper together, unlike last night. She half-expected to see them run out to the backyard with baseball mitts to play catch-up. Tony's laughter was different than she had ever heard, too. Hearty. Beefy. Manly. Like he was with some "bro."
It grated on her nerves.
“After work tonight,” Mike announced, “we’ll have a business meeting. Down at Slim’s Bar and Grill.”
“That’s all the way in West Emily,” Gia said after taking a sip of O.J.
“And isn’t that a Giovanni establishment?” Tony said with concern.
Mike scrubbed a plate and set it in the dishwasher. He then turned with a half smile. “Yes and yes. What? You kids look scared to death.” He dismissively waved a dish towel. “Don’t worry. It’s been several years since the murder, and those who work the place are now kids from the local college. Family has taken a step back to work more in the underground organization. Besides, I have something to show you there that you’ll need to see. It’s imperative for the investigation.”
"All right, we'll be there," Tony said.
“There’s a lot I still haven’t told you.” Mike turned back to the sink.
After bringing her plate of crumbs to the sink, Gia marched upstairs, hid in the darkness of a closet, and dialed Jennie, her best friend and cousin.
“Hey you,” Jennie said to the sound of something loud humming in the background. “I’m in my apartment’s laundromat, doing a load. You would not believe what I did to my new criss-cross crop top. I was eating a chili dog—”
Gia was ready to burst. And did. “Jennie!” she whispered loudly. “I have something really important to tell you.”
"I have something important to tell you too. I just dropped a load of cheese and beans onto a top that I just bought yesterday! Have you no sympathy?" The pretty blonde could be so dramatic about fashion. Now wasn't the time.
“Jennie, listen to me. I am inside of a dark closet right now while Tony is here with his father, the murderer. He’s not in jail. Do you hear me? He’s here.”
“He’s there?!”
“He’s here.”
“What? Gia, are you okay? Did he tie you up and duct tape your mouth?”
Gia smacked her forehead. “Would I be talking to you right now if I was tied up and gagged?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. You said you’re stuffed in a dark closet!”
“I didn’t say ‘stuffed.’ Listen, I just need some privacy to tell you what’s up. It’s crazy, right? Mike Santino is here… at Tony’s!”
“Did you call the police?” Jennie sounded frantic. “Should I hang up and call the police? I should call the police. I don’t want my best friend to wind up on the nightly news!”
“No, no, don’t call the police. Everything seems to be going… okay… so far. He actually spent the night. I’m just finally realizing that this is all real, you know? And I’m not sure that I like it.”
Gia updated her on what Mike had divulged. Everything. She figured if things went south, it would be good to have a confidant, a sort of witness of events who could lead the police in the right direction. Then, she remembered what Tony’s dad had told them: When you have the right connections and the right amount of money, you can get away with murder.
“What does Tony think about all of this?” Jennie asked.
“It seems like he believes everything his father is telling him.”
“Isn’t that amusing?” Jennie said with a lilt. “This is sounding vaguely familiar.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, remember when a certain someone was accused of murder?”
“Tony,” Gia stated, seeing where this was going.
"Not just Tony, but your own father. I don't know, Gia. I'm not saying he's innocent, but you of all people should remember that the wrong person can be accused of murder. If he needs help to find a murderer, then maybe you should help him."
Gia rubbed her forehead in the darkness. She didn’t see this coming. “Jennie, you were just about to call the police. Now you’re telling me to go with the flow and help.”
“Answer me this. Do you feel personally threatened by Mike?”
Pausing, Gia let out a sigh. “No. I guess not.”
“There’d be no motive. You’re safe, sweetie.” The sound of the washing machine turning on and spraying interrupted things. “I, on the other hand, have a real emergency on my hands.”
3
Later that morning at In the Box bistro, the staff was busy getting ready to open doors at eleven a.m.
“I’m thinking of getting a pet,” the supervisor Julian said while chopping vegetables beside Gia. A self-proclaimed Brony, he was a little man whose hair glamorously waved over like a My-Little-Pony mane. Today it was green with a spray of silver glitter. His delicate hands diced tomatoes as fast as he spoke. “I don’t want a dog. Dogs are too yippy and drool too much. I don’t want a cat, because there can only be one divo under my roof. I’ve thought of ferrets, but I hear they’re sneaky little turds. And smelly too.”
“You’re not meant to have a pet with that attitude," Greta, the seventy-something-year-old woman with a heart of a feisty teenager, and hormones to match, snarled behind him. She opened a bag of frozen hot dogs and put a few in the deep fryer. "I wouldn't trust you with a goldfish. You'd probably kill the poor thing."
“A goldfish...” Julian paused his chopping, mulling it over. “Now there’s an idea. I could get it a seahorse friend. I’ll buy them some coral and a ceramic pineapple to swim around together. That would be amazing. Am I right?” He nudged Gia good-naturedly, hoping for a vote in the affirmative.
Instead, Gia didn’t answer. She was still thinking about stuff. Her mind was swarming with confusion. Could Mike Santino actually be innocent?
Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. She peeked in to find it was Forks and Knives, popular culinary magazine. "Hello, Mr. McCarthy?" she said
, nearly dropping the phone in her frantic scramble to answer it.
“No, this is Susan Lithgow, Editor and Chief,” said the nasally stern voice. “How are you, Gia?”
“Oh, hello! I’m doing great! Just great!”
“Great,” she said dryly. “So I know you were told to come up with a topic for your first article, but there’s been a change of plans. How good are you at switching gears last minute?”
"I was going to write about a tasty twist on twice-baked potatoes. Instead of sour cream, you'd coat them in Ranch dressing, and top it off with—" Her inner voice told her she was heading down a tangent that would be hard to come back from. "I'm totally good with switching gears. What can I do for you, Ms. Lithgow?"
“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Peterson Cruise Line, yes?”
Gia’s Aunt Kendra owned the cruise line, Jennie’s mom. She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
"Lisa Romero has a stomach bug, and thus we have an immediate gig to fill. We would like you to be one of three food critics to board ship tomorrow. It's a 3-day expedition cruise to Canada. All the news networks will be covering the event that will take place on the second day."
“I’ll be boarding tomorrow?” Gia literally gulped. Being a food critic, even as a stand-in, would be a dream job. But what about In the Box bistro? She guessed Tony would happily fill in for her. But what about the ultimate mystery that she was somehow supposed to solve by his side? His own mother’s murder.
“Gia, are you there?”
Blinking, she responded, “I would be happy to!” But guilt made her cringe. What had she just agreed to? Not only Tony, but his dad would be so upset.