Bake Me a Murder (17 page)

My stomach turned and I felt sick recalling my close encounter with him.

Hector huffed and slammed his hand on the table hard enough for the candle on it to bounce. “Man, the cops already asked these questions. I’m outta here.” He stomped off.

Diamond waited until he was gone. She shook her head but spoke with fondness. “My brother loses his patience fast. He didn’t like me seeing Rico, especially after he heard about Coco Sanchez.”

“Did
you
know Coco?” Maybe I was getting somewhere. I struggled to keep the excitement from my voice.

She stared off into the distance. “I knew about her through what Rico told me.”

I leaned forward. “What was that?”

Diamond’s eyes bored into mine and she dug her electric blue polished fingernails into the tablecloth. “She double-crossed him. Got real tight with his boss and turned the guy against Rico.”

I held my breath. “Did you know Coco and Rico had been lovers in Florida? Do you know if Coco worked with Rico in Cleveland?”

Her dark eyes flashed. “I didn’t know nothing about Florida. But I do know she bought furniture here in Cleveland and Rico sold it. Until one day she didn’t.”

“Rico was mad about that?” I got nothing from her but a noncommittal shrug.

My legs started bouncing under the table. “Maybe you can tell me this. Did Rico ever mention trying to get Coco’s phone?”

Her voice rose. “No. All I know is Rico didn’t kill her.”

The only thing I was accomplishing here was making Diamond mad. She might sic her brother on me. Feeling like a kamikaze pilot I asked, “Do you know who killed Rico’s partner, Jimmy or James Padilla?”

She licked her lips and said, “I have to go now.” She stood. “I got a show to do.”

I stood as well and took a last stab at the truth. “Was it someone located in New Jersey? Michael Bucanetti?”

Diamond’s face turned pale. “Like I told the cops. I don’t know. Got it? I don’t know.” She pushed past me so hard I almost lost my balance.

I exited the club before anyone escorted me out, praying Hector wouldn’t be lurking around, waiting to use me as a dead weight. For the risk involved, I hadn’t learned much and my heart felt like it had sunk to my ankles. But Diamond, whether on purpose or not, confirmed Coco and Bucanetti had some sort of ‘thing’ going on.

Even if all my theories of Coco’s drug-related activities in Cleveland were wrong, she could easily have been instrumental in Rico’s Florida bust. Then, maybe Coco showed the furniture pictures to Bucanetti to prove Rico was skimming drugs and selling them to line his own pockets. His and James Padilla’s. Rico found out. Maybe killing Yolanda was an accident, but he had a strong motive for the coldblooded murder of Coco.

The trouble was I couldn’t ignore Diamond’s steadfastness as Rico’s alibi. Unless he hired someone to murder Coco. Padilla? But then who killed Padilla? Rico was in jail when his partner in crime was murdered. My heart stopped for a second. Bucanetti had Padilla killed.

As startling as this insight was, I pushed Padilla’s death to the back. Pursuing it right now would put me right in Bucanetti’s crosshairs. I couldn’t even talk to Corrigan about it. One word and Marco would be paying my father a deadly visit.

Besides, solving Coco’s murder and freeing Merle were my objectives. Then the police had a shot at discovering Bucanetti’s part in it all. They’d put two and two together. Somehow I’d make sure of it. My head throbbed.

As if resentful of being ignored, my stomach growled. Many people, when they’re busy or stressed, don’t eat. Not me. I’m like a hummingbird and could eat constantly. Except at 5’2”, staying at 107 pounds is a struggle. Sometimes skipping a meal is best. Besides, how could I eat now when so many questions lingered and the fates of so many remained uncertain?

My empty belly grumbled, “Nonsense.” It churned with so much force it hurt. That was my answer. I’d have to gobble something and then try solving this evermore confusing case.

Rather than grab a burger or some other fast food I drove home for a Lean Cuisine and some brownies.

After devouring my meal, I licked the last crumb off my finger and yawned. It was almost midnight and my eyelids began to droop. My bed beckoned me, but my phone ringing held sway. When I answered, Diamond was on the other end.

Her voice was hushed and she sounded like she was talking through gauze. “Coco got hold of some numbers. Rico thought she had them in her phone. It could have put some important people in jail. Rico needed them.”

My heart raced. “Do you know what they—?”

She’d hung up.

I had those numbers from the call history and texts on Coco’s phone. But what if there were other numbers, more important ones I’d missed? At the time, they’d looked like phone numbers, but nobody answered when I called. They could have been burner phones but, what if the numbers belonged to something else?

My thoughts bounced around on how to go about figuring this out. I didn’t have the hours or person-power to do it on my own. I swallowed hard.

My often missing-in-action courage threw down the gauntlet. I’d call Corrigan and tell him the truth about meeting with Diamond. Besides imparting a strong reprimand, what would be the worst he could do? Imprison me? I straightened, determined to play it cool, but as his phone rang, a lump of brownie stuck in my throat.

When he answered, any bravery I managed to muster, fled. My words poured from me, confessing what I’d done as if he were my parish priest. He didn’t say a word and I was afraid he’d hung up. “Brian? Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” His voice, rather than angry, sounded resigned. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“What do you mean?” My breathing grew shallow.

“I asked you to stop investigating because it’d kill me to see you get hurt. That I cared too much to see that happen. So what do you do? You run right back into the thick of it, as if what I’d said didn’t mean a thing.”

I didn’t expect that response. “No! Your words meant a lot to me.”

He snorted. “Funny way to show it.” Then paused so long I didn’t know if he expected me to respond. At last he said, “Okay, do what you want. But don’t expect me to concern myself with you more than I would any other civilian involved in a murder case. I can’t let myself care about a woman who may get herself killed because she doesn’t listen to me when I’m trying to help her.”

My eyes narrowed as if that’d assist me in focusing on what he meant. “I don’t understand.”

His voice grew husky, even sad. “That’s just it, Claire. You don’t.”

“Brian, I—” I wanted to reach through the phone and clutch his arm. Make him see reasons for what I did.

“I appreciate your tip, ma’am. Any other information you believe pertinent?”

“No.” Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I counted on Corrigan having my back. Yet how many things had I done behind his? So afraid he’d hurt me like my ex-fiancé, Justin, I never gave a thought to the possibility I could wound him. Something valuable was slipping through my fingers. I tried to take a deep breath, but the room didn’t have enough air.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt—”

“Skip it. We checked out the numbers too. Dead end, just like you got. We’ll look at them again and see if anything pans out.”

“Okay. Um, are you still coming with me to my dad’s tomorrow?” I held my breath, hoping for a yes.

“I think it’s best if I bow out.” His tone was flat, resigned.

“Well, then, uh.” My eyes grew moist. “I better go.” I ended the call before my voice broke.

I felt like I’d been left in a free fall. Bravado became my parachute. Rationalization became my landing pad.
A cop and a PI can’t have a romantic relationship. Doomed to fail.
Keeping it on a professional level is the best way to avoid heartache. Romance for me equals trouble.

Despite it all, the disappointment and sense of loss weighed me down. I sunk into a chair, wishing I was four again and my only problem was deciding what type of frosting I wanted on my birthday cake. My chin quivered and loneliness rippled through me. I felt like a chocolate Easter bunny, solid to the eye, but hollow inside.

Twenty minutes later, my phone rang, startling me. Although I didn’t feel like it, since it was Merle, I had to take the call.

“Claire, I know it’s late, but we need to meet here at West City Lounge. Harold’s on his way. Can you get down here now?”

“What is it?”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Rather not discuss it over the phone.”

My brain went into high gear and I set my earlier misery on the sideline. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I headed out the door, revisiting what Corrigan had said. He was right. I can’t drop this case, and he and I will keep butting heads. My heart scolded me for being a fool and letting him slip away.

Saturday, 12:30 a.m.

I parked on the street near West Side Lounge. For the first time, Eric wasn’t loitering outside. Maybe the late hour and the drizzle that had begun ten minutes earlier chased him indoors.

Upon entering the lounge, it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness made worse by the absence of any sunlight coming through the two small windows. Merle and Harold were sitting at the bar, huddled with Tony, Coco’s brother.

Before approaching them, I looked around the empty bar. “Hi, guys. What’s going on?”

Harold spoke first. “The three of us pooled our information and arrived at an intriguing conclusion. But we need your expertise.”

“Okay. Tell me about it.” Caution was definitely in order here.

“I believe each of us should present our own contribution. Tony, would you mind going first?”

Tony removed a letter from an envelope. “Here. Read this.” He handed the letter to me.

I unfolded the page and read it out loud. “13828 West 29
^th
Street.” Coco had signed her name at the bottom of the paper along with a note to contact Merle Pokov. “Whose address is this?”

“In a minute.” Harold nodded to Merle, who handed me another piece of paper from his envelope.

“321625 and 443013.” Again, Coco had signed her name but this time had given instruction to contact Tony. “I don’t understand.”

Harold answered. “These are each clues. Coco must have known she was in danger. So she sent these to Merle and her brother as either a backup plan or because she wanted to get back at Rico. We may never know. We can assume, though, in addition to the lipstick note, she wanted us to use these tidbits. You see, the address is for Julio Lopez, Jimmy Padilla’s maternal grandfather. The poor man now resides in a nursing home and it just so happens; Jimmy was taking care of the elderly gentleman’s house.” He half-smiled. “Who knows what treasure of information awaits us there.”

I turned to Merle. “When did you get her letter?”

“It was postmarked a couple days ago, but I didn’t look at my mail until today.”

Tony said, “My mail’s mostly bills so I don’t pick it up right away. I guess mine came a day or two ago too. Wish I would’ve seen it sooner.” He looked down at his envelope, smoothing it, almost caressing it. “If I’d been a better brother I would’ve protected her. She must’ve been scared shitless to do this.”

Merle placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder in silent commiseration.

Harold tsked. “No regrets allowed. Everyone did the best they could with what they knew. Agreed?” Before anyone could agree or protest, he went on. “Now we have to discover the meaning of what Coco sent. Claire, that’s your task.”

I clasped my hands behind my back. “Wouldn’t it be better if we let the police know about the grandfather’s house?”

Harold responded. “Yes, and we will, once you’ve figured out if it’ll help Merle’s case. No sense making the prosecution’s job easier. Needless to say, Claire, any information discussed here should be held in confidence.”

“Of course.” I tamped down on any excitement. I didn’t want to get too hopeful that these clues would lead me to the much needed break in this case. What if, instead, they made the state’s case against Merle even stronger? Could Coco have been setting Merle and Tony up?

My shaky legs weren’t doing much of a job supporting me. I leaned against the bar. “Harold, you took the reins here. Why can’t you go to the house? Make it seem legal.”

Harold pursed his lips and shook his head. “Claire. I could be disbarred. Who would defend Merle then? And Merle can’t go. It’d be like admitting guilt.”

One short straw left. “Tony? What about you?”

All eyes turned to Coco’s brother. “I’ll go with you. I can’t leave here until three but—”

Harold waved his hand. “Out of the question. You wouldn’t get there until four. That’s when paperboys deliver, people are up and getting ready to go to work. No, that’s too late.”

This was like when I was a kid and Tommy Costantini tried to get me to lift money from my mom’s purse so he and I could go to the movies. As cute as he was, I was always taught to do the right thing so I stayed home while he and Jenny Baglieto saw a movie together. In this current case, what I was being asked to do seemed less wrong, but a lot more dangerous than my mom catching me. Also, what if we found something we wished we hadn’t? “Still not buying why I should take the risk.”

Harold smoothed his shirt. “Because, Claire, you’re the only one left.”

Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling queasy about what we might find. “Merle, are you sure you want to risk getting in deeper?”

He sounded resigned to this plan, a man forced by circumstances to make an unsavory choice. “What could be deeper than being charged with a murder I didn’t commit?”

My unsettled feeling didn’t dissipate. One last half-hearted attempt. “You really should take this to the cops instead of having me do it.”

The three men looked at me and I knew what they were thinking. I was a private investigator and right now, Merle’s PI. Still, I didn’t agree. Tony pulled out a bat from behind the bar. “I’m in if you are, Claire. I’ll call Marlene. She fills in for me sometimes. A real night owl.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.” I checked the time. It was almost 1:00 am. Probably the best time to break in, but I’d need Ed for his B&E experience.