Bake Me a Murder (9 page)

He let go of me and ran his fingers through his hair. “Come with me if you want, but let me do the talking.”

Fine by me. Corrigan could do the talking while I more fully recovered from my encounter with Rico.

He drove, allowing me to work through what had just happened. I closed my eyes and concentrated on Rico’s reaction when he found out Coco had a photo of furniture. But my brain kept returning to the terror I’d experienced.

When Corrigan and I arrived at the West End Lounge, Eric was nowhere to be found, but Corrigan knew his address. We drove down a street full of rundown duplexes and parked, taking the chance Eric was home. Curtains moved in the front window of the house across from us.

I had to run to keep up with Corrigan’s long strides. By the time we climbed the porch, Eric opened his front door. He was unsteady and his words slurred. “I figured you’d come for me.”

Corrigan asked, “Can we come in?”

My eyebrows shot up and my imagination painted a picture. Rico, inside, waiting for us. “Or we can talk out here.”

“Inside’s okay.” Eric stepped aside to let us in. Coward that I am, I insisted Corrigan go first. I needn’t have worried. It was just the three of us standing in Eric’s stale-smelling foyer, with its wallpaper peeling and water-stained ceiling.

Corrigan pulled out his notepad. “Tell me about your conversation with Rico Carreras.”

Eric rolled up his sleeves and displayed his arms. Shallow cuts crisscrossed both of them. “I didn’t just volunteer information.”

I gasped. “Have you gone to a doctor?” A shiver ran down my back. Rico could have done the same to me.

Eric gingerly touched his neck where an angry, red welt had risen. “Nah, I’m okay.”

Corrigan asked, “You’re saying he assaulted you with his knife. How did he know you had any information?”

Eric looked away. “Don’t know.”

Corrigan scowled. “What did you tell him?”

“After a few swipes of that bastard’s knife I told him the cops had Coco’s phone. Claire, I swear, I didn’t even mention you.”

Furious and feeling like I’d been played for a fool, I said, “Funny, Rico seemed sure I’d seen what was in the phone. How do you think he came to that conclusion, Eric?”

“Beats me. Look, I gotta sit down.”

We followed him into the living room, but neither Corrigan nor I sat. The sofa was so grimy I was afraid my clothes would stick to it.

Eric shook two pills from an aspirin bottle, stuffed them in his mouth and washed them down with a caramel colored liquid that wasn’t water. Holding his side, he lowered himself in a recliner and added, “Maybe Rico found someone who saw me hand you Coco’s phone.”

“Maybe.” Corrigan didn’t look convinced.

I wasn’t either. But why would Eric lie? Sympathy and suspicion danced in my head, each vying for the lead.

“What else did you and Carreras talk about?”

“That was it.”

Corrigan tapped his pen against his notepad, thinking. “And you don’t have a clue how he knew you had Ms. Sanchez’s phone?”

“Look, I already said I didn’t.”

“Yeah, you did.” Corrigan slammed his notepad closed. “I’ll be in touch.”

I added, “Go see a doctor.”

As an answer, Eric took another gulp out of his glass.

We let ourselves out and as soon as Corrigan started his car, I said, “Something doesn’t add up.”

“If you do the math right, it does.”

“What do you mean?”

Corrigan glanced at me. “Think about it. Carreras didn’t just take a lucky guess. He’s got to have a stool pigeon.”

“I suppose that makes sense, but who? And what’s in it for them?”

He shrugged. “Could be anybody. Maybe Tony Sanchez. Or maybe Pokov got the message to Rico so the focus of the investigation could be directed to someone else.”

I glared at him. “After all this, you still think Merle killed Coco?”

“The facts are the facts. We know the victim went to his apartment. I think what happened was, they argued. He pushed her. She came at him and they struggled. He lost control and choked her. Maybe he didn’t mean to kill her, but he did.”

Corrigan’s tone was so sure, almost cocky. I couldn’t stand it. “If you haven’t noticed, Rico’s really good with his hands.”

“Yeah. But I still think Pokov did it.”

I seethed. Arguing was a waste of time.

Corrigan must have felt my cold stare. “Don’t worry. We’ll catch Carreras, Claire. He’s dirty alright, but I don’t like him for this murder. He didn’t even know she was dead. That doesn’t mean I won’t look closely into his alibi and any implication he was involved. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get away with what he did to you.”

My stomach clenched as, all of a sudden, my mind replayed that scene in my office. The only way I’d feel truly safe was to have Rico behind bars. Arms folded, I took a few deep breaths and almost ignoring Corrigan, plotted my next moves.

It didn’t take Corrigan long to sense something. “Are you doing alright? You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just don’t feel like talking.”

He tugged at his collar as if it were too tight but didn’t say anything. In fact, the next time we spoke was when we pulled up to my car.

He put his car in park. “If you’re going home, I’ll follow you. If you’re going back to your office, I’m coming up. Either way you’re not getting rid of me until I know you’re inside, safe. Say the word and someone can be here to make sure you stay that way.”

A piece of the iceberg around my heart cracked, but didn’t chip off. “Appreciate it.” Any self-respecting PI would’ve turned that offer down. But when it came to the possibility of getting sliced up by a returning, irate Rico, a guard sounded like just the ticket. Except that guard would also inhibit my investigation.

I put up a brave front. “Escorting me to my office would be great. But I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Sure?” His eyebrows lowered.

Afraid my tone would betray me, I nodded.

“If you change your mind, call. Keep your door locked and your gun at hand.”

I had to make sure he didn’t sense my fear so I went for sarcasm. “Yes sir. Next are you going to remind me never to talk to strangers and look both ways before I cross the street? Now I’d like to go back to my office.”

He frowned. “This isn’t a joke, Claire.”

I wasn’t laughing.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, you could be in danger. I don’t want to see you hurt. You mean too much to me.”

That crack in the iceberg around my heart split wider. “Brian, I—” My phone rang before I could finish my response.

Thursday, 6:00 p.m.

“Claire, it’s your aunt. I know you’re busy, but I have a real problem. Angie cut her hand and had to go to the emergency room. Frank, you’re father, doesn’t answer his phone. He’s probably with that neighbor, the woman with the low cut dresses. Anyway, please, I need you to come in to
Cannoli’s
for an hour, maybe two. Come as soon as you can. Please.”

My face burned with frustration. I turned my back to Corrigan and, cupped my hand over my mouth so he couldn’t hear. “I can’t just drop everything.” I felt guilty the second the words were out of my mouth. “But this time I can. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“I knew I could count on you. You’re such a good girl.”

I hung up and glanced at Corrigan. To my surprise, he didn’t have a smirk on his face.

“Come on, I’ll follow you to
Cannoli’s
.” He smiled. “Maybe I’ll get an éclair.”

Small groups of customers mulled around, both inside and outside
Cannoli’s
. Corrigan scanned the crowds while I made my way toward my aunt.

Aunt Lena pushed an errant lock of hair from her forehead. “Thank God you’re here. Grab an apron and take over. I’ve got to frost some cupcakes.” She spotted Corrigan standing by the door. “Brian came too?” She lifted her hand and waved. “Yoo hoo, Brian.” She motioned for him to come up to the counter.

He waved back and squeezed through customers. “Hi, Lena. I see you’re busy, so I’ll be leaving now.”

Lena helped the next woman in line then turned back to Corrigan. “Not until you have a piece of my blackberry pound cake.”

“Wow. Can’t turn that down.” His inner little kid grinned. I expected him to rub his belly next.

His unabashed boyishness made me smile in spite of myself. To cover it I slipped into the kitchen, washed up and donned an apron. By the time I returned, Corrigan was gone. For a second I forgot to not care.

Aunt Lena handed change to a customer and thanked her. To me she said, “Brian got a call and had to take off fast. Said they got a call on Ricky somebody.”

My jaw dropped. “Rico?”

“I guess. Is that good?”

I grabbed my purse to find my phone. “Can you hold down the fort another minute? I’ve got to find out.”

A customer started placing her order. Aunt Lena held up a finger and sweet as her frostings said, “Give me one second, Ma’am.” She turned to me. “Sure, go ahead. Do whatever you need. What’s one more gray hair on my head?” She turned back to the customer.

I looked toward the ceiling and asked for patience. “I promise it’ll only take a minute.” I texted Corrigan and dropped my phone into my apron pocket.

Aunt Lena bolted for the kitchen yelling over her shoulder, “I’ll get the cupcakes.”

Even when Aunt Lena returned, customers kept me so busy it was more than an hour before I could check my phone. No call or text from Corrigan.

When she’d served the last customer, Aunt Lena wiped the counter. “Why don’t you call Brian again? I’m pretty sure that was the final customer rush of the day. If it gets bad again, I’ll call your father. Maybe drag him away from his new neighbor. She’s such a hussy.”

I took off the apron. “Who are you talking about? His neighbors are Mr. Fannuci on one side and Mr. and Mrs. Lombardo on the other.”

“Mr. Fanucci went to live with his daughter. He rented out his house to Miss Hot-to-Trot. Running around in her bathing suit in this weather. Ha! Your father didn’t stand a chance. I hope he goes to confession.”

I wondered why my father hadn’t mentioned this woman to me. Was he embarrassed or just thought I’d resent another woman taking my mother’s place. Either way, my curiosity was piqued. I’d be sure to ask him about his new friend.

Purse in hand, I kissed my aunt’s cheek and said my goodbyes.

She gave me a one-armed hug. “I know you’re busy with this Merle case, but do you think you can still fill in tomorrow morning?”

I’d forgotten about my promise. “I’ll be here.” How was I ever going to solve Coco’s murder being at
Cannoli’s
? It wasn’t like the killer frequented the place.

Aunt Lena disappeared into the kitchen and I had my hand on the door, when a lone customer breezed past me. She was struggling with two grocery bags and trying to keep her briefcase-sized purse on her shoulder. I dashed over to assist her before something crashed down on
Cannoli’s
counter.

Once the bags were settled on a chair, the woman brushed her hair in front of her face and took off her sunglasses. “Thanks. Guess I should have dropped those bags in the car first.”

I did a double take. Standing in front of me was the girl in Coco’s photo.

Chapter Nine

M
y mouth dropped and I froze for a moment. Before she decided I was a catatonic, I forced my lips into what probably looked like a demented-clown smile.

While the girl looked down to place her glasses in her purse, I managed to squeak, “You’re welcome.”
Relax. Make friends.
“Those bags are bulky and heavy. No wonder you had a tough time with them.”

She nodded but her eyes darted around the room like she expected someone. “I hope it’s worth my stopping here.”

“Do you live nearby?” My hands trembled with excitement and with the fear I’d blow this chance. I shoved them in my pockets and waited for her reply.

“Yeah, not far.” Her eyes at last settled on the pastry counter. “Uh, can I have two of those little pineapple things?”

“Of course. That’ll be six dollars.” I slid open the glass door and removed the little cakes. “These are a nice way to end a dinner for two.”

She ignored my comment. “Could you hurry?” I rang them up and she handed me a ten. A car in need of a new muffler drove by and she tensed.

Something or someone was spooking her.
“Sorry, I don’t have change, but we take credit.” The card would have her name.

“You know, I’m in kind of a rush. Keep the change.”

She slung her massive purse over her shoulder and collected her groceries. There was no way she’d be able to carry the pastry box without having an extra arm.

“Here.” I took the box. “Let me help.” Her license plate number could be traced.

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“No problem.”

Her Ford sat almost in front of Cannoli’s. She popped open the trunk and set the grocery bags inside. Taking the box from my hands, she thanked me again.

“You’re welcome. By the way, I’m Claire and you’re…?”

“Yolanda.” She bit her lip, as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it. She slid into her car and disappeared down the street.

I shut my eyes to visualize her plate number, and hustled back to
Cannoli’s
to jot them down, just in case of sudden memory loss. Calling Corrigan was next on my list.

Before he finished his greeting, I burst out with, “I saw the woman in Coco’s picture. She came into
Cannoli’s
but she’s gone now. Her name is Yolanda and she drives a black Ford, license plate number Y2428Z.”

“Got it. We’ll find her.”

“You’ll let me know—” Before I could finish my sentence, he hung up.

I already had my car keys out, intent on being in on Corrigan’s search when Aunt Lena returned from the kitchen.

Aunt Lena set down a dish on top of a clean doily. Her voice was little more than a whisper. “If you’re interested, someone’s in the kitchen waiting to talk to you. She’s nervous, like she’s going to a first time meeting with her in-laws.”

“Did she say what’s going on?” It didn’t matter, though. I hustled into the kitchen before the woman changed her mind.