Bake Me a Murder (18 page)

As soon as Harold and Merle departed, Tony called his replacement, Marlene. I waited until his conversation with her ended.

“Marlene says she’ll come in at two. You can wait here or we can meet up at the grandfather’s house.”

I didn’t want to wait there. I needed to call Ed, so I agreed to meet Tony at Julio’s home. Before I left, I needed some answers. “Tony, can I ask you something?”

“Soon as I get these guys something.” He tilted his head toward two men weaving their way toward the bar.

When his customers took a table in the back, he said to me, “Shoot. What do you want to know?”

“About Coco. What was she like?” I also wanted to ask how she could get mixed up with Bucanetti, but I doubted Tony knew.

He shrugged. “A sweet kid. Maybe a little too innocent. She thought everyone had more good than bad in them. Then she started working at that club and met Carreras.” His mouth puckered like he was going to spit. “I should’ve gone down to Florida and dragged her out of that place.”

I had to refocus him. “Did Coco come to Cleveland because you were here?”

“Sort of. Yeah. I think she also wanted to get away from Tampa. Not the city, her life. Then we had a fight and she never came around again.”

“Was it about Rico?”

He poured himself some water and drank it. “Him and how she was living.” He looked down at the bar and shook his head.

“Before you argued, did she mention a man named Michael Bucanetti? He lives in New Jersey but he must have been in Tampa about the time Coco lived there.”

“Not that I recall. Why? Who is he?”

“Nobody, if she didn’t talk about him. Okay, thanks.” I changed the subject and pulled out my phone before Tony could ask me any questions I couldn’t answer. “I’m going outside to call Ed, my assistant. He’ll come with us.”

Tony opened his mouth to object, but I wasn’t going to budge on this. One more person made it safer. “He’s Merle’s cousin and can be trusted. Besides, I’m betting he has tools to help us get inside the house.” Before leaving I still patted my pocket to make sure my gun was there.

I was headed toward my car to make the call, when Eric hollered to me.

“Hey, Claire. Got a minute?”

My brain was on overload and my nerves needed decompression, but I dug deep inside and found some patience. “Sure. What’s going on?”

He scratched his unshaven cheek and I noticed the dirt under his fingernails. His hands themselves were none too clean. “Just wondering if that guy the cops busted for Coco’s murder is still, you know, going to court.”

I envisioned tiny, aggressive germs, each with pointed teeth, gnawing on Eric’s skin and attempting the leap to attack me. Fighting the urge to shrink back from him, “For now, but the investigation is still going on.” Recalling how Eric withheld Coco’s phone, I asked, “Is there something you haven’t told the police?”

“No, nothing.”

“Okay, then I—”

“Do you think Jimmy Padilla got killed because of Coco?” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “I mean, Jimmy and Coco were both connected to that crime boss in New Jersey. Plus the Jersey guy and Coco had a thing going…”

I squinted at Eric, as if that’d allow me to peer inside his brain. I whispered while the two guys from the bar walked by. “How did you know about Michael Bucanetti?”

He stuck his hands under his armpits and pulled his elbows in close. “Didn’t you tell me?” He followed up in a flash with, “Maybe Coco did.”

My brain screamed he knew more than he let on. “She must have told you a lot. How long did you say the two of you talked?” My heart was beating double time.

One of those loud-on-purpose cars sped by and the driver yelled, “Hey mama!”

Eric’s eyes followed the vehicle down the street. “We had a smoke together. Fifteen, twenty minutes. Maybe a little longer.” He rubbed his throat. “Real thirsty. I gotta go.”

Not before I get the truth out of you.
“Before you do, have you told the police about knowing Padilla? It could be important.” A big semi rolled by, making it almost impossible for conversation.

A look of annoyance shot across his face and just as quickly disappeared.
Was the emotion for me and my question, or for the truck?
He shrugged like it was no big deal, but his eyes were wary. “Sure, I’ll let them know.” He turned and walked toward the lounge.

I took a step to follow him, but even with my gun, a dark uneasiness crept through me and I halted. Even if I was being neurotic Eric no longer seemed to be just a guy down on his luck.

I could’ve dwelled on that puzzle all night, but other business needed attention. Switching gears, I called Ed, apologizing for the late hour.

“No problem. I just got in from bowling. My team won, so we celebrated. What do you need?”

An image of Ed in a loud bowling shirt tumbled across my mind. I gave him the rundown on the Julio house. He agreed to meet me at there at 2:00 that morning and promised to bring along any tools we might need.

Regardless of the time of night, it seemed best to let Corrigan in on this latest conversation with Eric, but upon pulling out my phone, I thought better of it. If, in the course of the conversation, Corrigan were to question me about my immediate plans, I couldn’t tell him I’d be breaking into Julio Lopez’s house. He’d throw me in jail just for thinking about it.

The best thing for me was a cup of coffee at Stern’s Donuts. A little out of the way, but the place made their coffee so strong it didn’t need a cup to stand and that’s what I needed.

Sunday, 1:40 a.m.

All the way to the donut shop, Eric’s words kept popping into my mind. I turned on the radio to drown them out, but finally gave up and turned off the music. That’s when it hit me. Eric was a silent partner in the furniture deal. I almost ran into the other lane. The driver I would’ve hit laid on his horn and my heart ricocheted in my chest.

Once my breathing returned to normal, I scoffed at that theory. If Eric had been, he sure hadn’t spent the money on clothes and grooming.

The black sludge known as Stern’s coffee wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping me awake. When Tony called me to tell me, Marlene, his fill-in wasn’t there yet, I was dreaming about being locked away in a cage with nothing to eat but some cereal named Captain Corrigan.

I hoped this break-in would go without a hitch, and whatever we needed to find wasn’t in the basement or attic. I was scared of both places, having seen too many shows where the unsuspecting heroine is killed any variety of ways by some demented demon. I wondered what had happened to Mrs. Julio Lopez.

I drove past Julio’s house and parked a block away per our plan. No Ed or Tony yet, so I waited. A streetlight provided enough illumination for me to study the home’s exterior. It was a two-story brick, with one of those big porches people used to sit on while visiting with their neighbors. Except now it didn’t look like there were many neighbors. The house across the street was clearly abandoned, with boarded up windows. Great place for a villain to hide or druggies to hang out. On one side of Julio’s house was a field strewn with empty cans, bottles, and I didn’t want to know what else. The other side was a house similar to Julio’s but with a newer coat of paint. I hoped the people who owned it were sound sleepers.

Ed pulled up about five minutes later and tapped on my window. I unlocked the car and he slid into the passenger seat. “Hey kiddo. You sure you want to do this? Corrigan’s only a call away.” He sighed. “I’d give my right arm for Merle, but…”

“I promised I’d do this, but if you don’t want to be involved, I understand. Tony should be here soon. He and I can do this.” My stomach bounced like it was at the end of a bungee cord.” Could you leave me with your tools, though?”

“Told you I was in, so I’m in. As a matter of fact, if Tony isn’t here in ten minutes, we better start. We don’t want the neighbors awake. Just remember, in case anyone is watching, act like you belong here.”

Ed checked his watch for the twentieth time. Ten minutes had passed and still no Tony. I caught myself tapping my foot and peering out through the windshield, then the side window, even checking the rearview mirror in case he pulled up behind us. When my phone rang and it was Tony, my heart sank.

His voice was clipped. “Marlene never showed and I got three customers who just came in. I can’t leave. Give me another fifteen minutes and I’ll get rid of these clowns. I’ll be there. I swear.”

I sat with my hands between my knees and rocked a bit back and forth, filling Ed in on the delay.

Instead of rushing the house and not waiting for Tony, Ed turned philosophical. “We’ll get inside when the time is right.”

Twenty minutes later I decided the time was right. Any longer and my nerves would have eaten their way through my skin.

Ed asked, “You’re sure no Tony, no problem?”

This whole idea was a problem. Tiny hammers pounded inside my head, and I was wound so tight my abdomen could have been used for a trampoline. “Let’s leave.”

Ed scanned the area as he pulled his breaking-and-entering tools out from inside his jacket. Without a word, he slipped on gloves and handed me a pair. “I don’t want to come back here again. Let’s do this.”

Every fiber of me screamed, “I don’t want to do this.” If I asked Ed to, he’d search the house himself, but I didn’t want him hurt. I was about to tell him my thoughts when, staring toward Julio’s house, I spotted Marco, Bucanetti’s man, and another large guy bounding down the porch steps. At the same time they reached the bottom one, a black car skidded to a stop in front of the house and Marco and his partner scrambled inside. Before it sped off, I’d grabbed my phone and took a picture of the license plate, blurry though it turned out to be.

Ed’s eyes had followed mine. “Don’t that beat all?”

I was speechless.
If Ed and I’d gone inside, we’d both be dead.
My head buzzed and made me think yellow jackets were using my head as their new hive. I turned cold and shivered.

Ed nudged me from my scared-frozen state. “I think we better go in.”

My face must have been a portrait of terror because Ed put his hand on my arm and said, “I’ll go in first. See if the coast is clear.”

Before I could protest, he hopped out of my car and speed-walked to Julio’s house. I blinked, like someone coming back after fainting. I couldn’t let him go in alone; I rushed after him.

The door was unlocked and Ed slipped in, but I skidded to a stop on the porch. Then pulled my gun out from my jacket, opened the front door wide, and stepped inside as cautiously as someone testing their bathwater. I wiped my damp gun-toting hand on my pants.

“Ed?” After a minute, although it seemed like thirty, I called out, “Ed, where are you?” I tiptoed toward the kitchen.

“Claire!” It was Ed, and I almost collapsed with relief. “Come downstairs.”

I raced to the unfinished basement and spotted why he had shouted for me. Half-buried under a pile of old blankets was a small metal safe. Two combination locks hung on its open door. No surprise, the safe was empty. Marco and his companion must have carried off whatever treasure or information had been inside. The safe looked pristine without any markings of someone forcing it open.

Bucanetti’s men knew about the safe and the combination. Tony never showed up.
I clenched my fists thinking of who could have manipulated Tony to stay away and at the same time, informed Marco about Julio’s house. My jaw clenched.

Harold
.

Chapter Seventeen

Sunday, 2:45 a.m.

E
d and I separated, each to our own cars. He drove off, but I sat there, hitting my fists against the steering wheel. Positive Harold had double-crossed me, I decided my pledge of confidentiality was off and called Corrigan. Being so early in the morning, I wasn’t surprised to get his voicemail. I left a cryptic message about the grandfather’s house and was careful not to mention Ed.

Too wired to sit in my office, I headed home to try calming down. I’d need my wits about me to confront Harold with his duplicity. He was in Bucanetti’s pocket and would sacrifice Merle to march to that devil’s command.

Bit by bit my fear and shock dissipated, leaving a cold rage, which was good for rational thought. Yet I didn’t understand why Harold had given Merle’s and Tony’s information to me, when Bucanetti could have been the sole receiver. I vowed to shake down Harold for the truth. For the moment, I’d wait for Corrigan’s call.

Sunday, 5:30 a.m.

I was munching on some Frosted Flakes, wondering how long it would be before Corrigan called me back, when my phone rang. It was my father.

“Hey, I know it’s real early, and I don’t mean to keep bugging you, but I need a final head count for dinner.”

His question prompted the return of feeling like someone dug a piece of my heart out. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Brian can’t make it. It’ll just be the three of us.” To avoid any questions, I changed the subject. “What are you making? Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Your appetite. It’s something I wanted to try. Braciole. I’m stuffing the beef with spinach
,
pine nuts, and raisins. Baked Alaska for dessert.” He chuckled. “How’s that for a winning combination?”

“Oooh! Sounds good.” I yawned.

“Tired? Out too late, huh?”

“No, too early.”

“I know you’re busy these days, but maybe grab a nap. Or don’t people your age take naps?”

“I would if I could. But I do have to go, Dad. See you tonight.”

“Come hungry.” With that he ended the call.

I closed up the cereal box and headed to my office, hoping Corrigan had called there.

My office phone indicated I had one call. It was from Gino, who didn’t tell me why, but asked that I call him back.

My cell phone rang, startling me. It was Corrigan, calling me back at last. “I’d planned on getting in touch with you today, but after that message you left, I think we ought to meet and talk.”

I shifted in my chair. “Uh, okay.
Cannoli’s
?” I figured he wouldn’t have the nerve to arrest me in my aunt’s place.