Killer Cannoli (A Terrified Detective Mystery Book 2) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

W
e rushed inside the Westshore Locker and Sports Center, a place whose name was grander than it was, and up to the nicked and battered counter. A bald, multi-tattooed man in a white tee shirt stood behind a stack of boxes.

I asked, “Excuse me, sir. Are you the owner here?”

“Who wants to know?” The guy needed customer service training.

Corrigan pulled out his badge. “I’m Detective Corrigan with the Cleveland Police. We’re trying to locate a locker that belonged to Joey Corozza, aka Larry Walters. Is he a customer of yours?”

The guy didn’t move.

“Sir, I’ll ask you again, do you have—”

“Heard you the first time. Not saying I do, but if I do, what happens then?”

Corrigan gave me an ‘I’ll handle this’ look. “We’d like to view the contents as evidence in a crime.”

The man shook his head and said the words I dreaded hearing. “You don’t got a key, you need a warrant.”

I leaned across the counter. “Please, it’s a matter of life or death. My aunt—”

“Sorry, lady. Can’t bend the rules for nobody.” He looked like he’d bent and broken more than a few.

Corrigan nodded, “I’ll be back with one. In the meantime, you wouldn’t let anyone else bend those rules for you now, would you?”

The guy’s eyebrows came together. “I’m all about equal opportunity.” He snorted like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

At the store’s entrance, Corrigan stopped and made a phone call. I paced and envisioned stapling that clerk jerk’s lips together. When Corrigan hung up he informed me, “They’re sending a uniform here to make sure nobody gets in Joey’s locker except us. Whoever it is should be here any minute.” He looked down the street as if he expected a police car to zoom up any minute.

I spun around and a woozy feeling hit me so hard I would have landed on the floor had Corrigan not caught me.

“Claire, when was the last time you ate? Or slept? Go sit in the car and rest. As soon as that cop arrives we’ll go get you a burger.”

Less than five minutes later, a uniformed cop with the word ‘rookie’ written all over him showed up. But he seemed competent enough to guard the lockers, so I agreed to that burger.

We stopped at a Rally’s drive-through and I ordered a cheese double and Diet Coke. Ordinarily I love burgers, but I had a hard time swallowing even one bite. All I could do was wonder if they’d fed Aunt Lena or at least given her something to drink. While I was struggling with that thought, Corrigan made a couple more calls.

When he was done, he peeled back the paper on his straw and punched it through the plastic cup top. “Newark cops questioned Bucanetti. Got nowhere, of course. The guy’s lawyer must have some sort of sixth sense. Every time a cop gets near Bucanetti, up pops the attorney.”

He took a sip of his banana milkshake. “Some other news. We got a lead on who set up the car to be stolen. Guy named George LoPresti. Used to work for Valcone until he allegedly went legit and got a position at Luxury Autos. Some coincidence.”

I almost grabbed Corrigan. “Did you question him? Does he have my aunt?”

“We don’t know anything more. Seems the suspect has gone missing.”

The one bite of burger I’d taken threatened to come back up. “What do you mean, missing?”

“Just that.” His phone rang again. When he answered it, his forehead lowered and his face turned red. “I need the damn thing now.” He paused and said, “Sorry.” Another pause and a smile. “Yeah, that’s great. Thanks. I owe you.”

“The warrant?”

“I’ll have it within two hours.”

But that wasn’t soon enough. A nagging feeling told me to get back to the locker and sports place now. “Thanks for the burger. Now will you take me to my car? I want to wait outside the locker rental building until you get back with the warrant.”

“Claire, no. Why would you want to do that?”

“I just have to. That policeman is there so I’ll be safe. I even promise not to go inside without you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like you promised not to go into your apartment? Or to let Alex inside
Cannoli’s
?”

“This is different. I won’t do anything foolish. Santore scares the pantaloons off me. I just need to be there, even if it’s outside.” When I saw him weakening, I added, “We’ll practically pass my car on the way to the police station.”

He shook his head. “Okay. But if you go inside that sports center before I’m there, I’ll arrest you for obstruction. Clear?”

“Very.”

We reached my car and split up. On my way to the Westshore Locker and Sports Center I checked the time and my heart felt heavy enough to sink to my ankles. I’d lost another ninety minutes.

I pulled up and parked across the street, feeling antsy. The urge to go inside was strong but I wanted to keep my promise to Corrigan. It was the least I could do after all his help and support.

I left the key dangling from the ignition and pushed back my driver’s seat to get more comfortable. It didn’t take long for my eyelids to droop, but when the weight of the ring pulled the ignition key out and the whole lot of them jangled to the floor, my eyes popped open. I picked the ring up. That’s when I noticed. One of the keys was small, like a locker key. I looked at the number on it. Maybe it opened Joey’s locker.

But how would the key have gotten on Aunt Lena’s ring?
Didn’t matter. I’d noticed a separate entrance to the locker area when I’d been there with Corrigan. I could sneak in and the clerk wouldn’t even see me.

I fidgeted in my seat, debating if I should wait for Corrigan.

But it might be another hour and a half before he gets here. In that time I could sneak in, try the key and get back to my car without him being any wiser. Besides, that cop is inside in case there is trouble, which there won’t be. And if I got the locker open, who’d care that I broke this promise?

But no. I was determined to keep my word. That is until I spied Santore and Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum pull up and park in front of the building. I made up my mind when they went into the locker and sport center. I had to go inside. To soothe my conscience, I texted my intentions to Corrigan.

I sneaked around to the locker room entrance and opened the door. Although I told myself there wasn’t any danger involved with this since the cop was on the premises, my hands were clammy.

Once inside, my hopes were lost in the multitude of lockers. They numbered from 1001 to 2001. The engraved number on the key was 40236. My heart sank. This key wouldn’t fit any of these locks.

Feeling defeated, I turned to make a quick exit when I heard yelling coming from the sports center office. Their words were muffled, but I recognized one of the voices right away. I wiped a drop of sweat from my forehead, but otherwise stood like I’d been frozen in place.

Someone grunted in pain. Then a noise like something heavy hitting the floor made what was going on very clear. Stunned, I told myself to hightail it out of there, but my legs wouldn’t listen and I remained glued to the spot. By the time my limbs obeyed it was too late. Santore and his two thugs burst into the room. Freddie was rubbing his knuckles.

Santore let loose with a short, nasty laugh. “Look who’s here.” He made a show of checking out the rest of the small room. “Your pal, Corrigan, desert you?”

I had visions of them shoving me into one of the lockers with a bullet between my eyes, but nonetheless spoke out. “He’s on his way with a warrant. He’ll be here in a minute.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” Santore’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t matter, though. By the time he gets here, I’ll have Joey’s locker emptied.” He twirled a key around. “The desk clerk forked it over and was kind enough to tell us the locker number.”

“Wait! Where’s that policeman?”

Freddie and Marco looked at each other and snickered. Santore glanced over at them and they stopped. “Let’s just say he’s been detained in the can.” He touched my cheek lightly. “But he’ll be okay. Just his pride’ll be hurt.” He chuckled and his monkeys joined in. “No more talking. Let’s get the locker open.”

 “You can’t take Joey’s belongings.” My fists clenched like I was ready to pummel Santore. Freddie flexed his muscles and Marco took a step toward me. Scared, I spread my fingers out and dropped my key ring. It bounced off the floor and skidded under the counter. I went to retrieve it, but Freddie blocked me.

“Let her get it.” Santore must have felt generous. “Won’t do her any good.”

I reached down for the keys and heard a familiar, welcome voice. “Santore, what are you and your friends doing here?” It was Corrigan and I was never happier to see him. But the look on his face didn’t reflect my joy.

Santore pulled out a cigar, even though there were No Smoking signs on two of the walls. “I could ask you the same question, Detective. My boys and me just happened by and thought maybe we should get one of these lockers, you know, to keep our bowling balls in.” He smirked.

Just then the door opened and a short, thin middle-aged guy and a young, well-built man strolled in together, each holding a key.

 Santore nodded toward Freddie who then barked at them, “Get lost.”

The thin, middle-aged man’s eyes widened and he halted, but the other guy kept walking. Freddie, probably not used to being ignored, snarled at them. “You both deaf?  I told you to take a hike.” 

The older man grabbed his companion’s forearm. “Let’s go, Tom.”

Tom shrugged it off, his eyes challenging Freddie. “Who the hell are you to order us around?”

Fast as a gazelle and, to my surprise, as graceful, Freddie grabbed the older guy by the collar and raised his other fist up to the man’s face. He addressed the younger one. “I’m the guy telling you to leave now or your friend’s nose’ll be on the other side of his face.”

Corrigan sprang into action and stepped between Freddie and the strangers. He growled, “You sure you want to commit assault?  I’m fine if you do. Gives me an excuse to arrest you.”

 Freddie released the guy and shoved him toward a row of lockers.

Corrigan pulled out his badge. “Now that tempers are under control, gentlemen, this is police business. I’m asking you to leave.”

The younger one shifted his weight. “We’re out of here.” 

Just as the door slammed behind them, I spun around to see the origin of a clanging noise. I shrieked, “No!”

During the ruckus, Marco, most likely on Santore’s orders, made his way over to Joey’s locker. His key fit and he’d just turned the locker handle to open it.

Corrigan spotted what was happening and knocked Santore away from the locker. “Whatever’s in there is evidence in Joey Corozza’s murder.”

Santore’s lip curled in fury and his eyes became slits of rage. “You oughta not done that.” He straightened his shirt and blew out a breath. “But I’ll let it go this once.” If snakes could smile, it’d look like Santore. “But unless I see a warrant, you got no claim on anything.”

Corrigan gritted his teeth. “I had to come back before I got the warrant.” He shot me a look that cursed the day I got my PI license. “Neither do you. Get away from the locker or I’ll arrest you for tampering with evidence.”

Santore kept his vicious and cold smile intact like he’d just as soon shoot Corrigan and me than let the police have Joey’s things. I dove for the locker and for a brief moment felt like Aladdin gaining entrance to the magic cave, only to be stopped by Freddie’s quick reflexes. 

My attempt failed, but it didn’t matter. It was bare. Joey’s locker was bare. I felt like a balloon with a pinhole in it. All deflated. 

Corrigan stepped in and ran his hand over and under all the surfaces in the locker. But it was as empty as Santore’s heart.

Santore grunted. “Hey, this just means we don’t have to, you know,
discuss
who gets Joey’s crap.” He motioned to Marco and Freddie. “Come on, boys, let’s take a ride.”

Corrigan stopped him and said something, but I was so devastated, I couldn’t listen. All that mattered was I’d run out of clues and soon I’d run out of time. I wandered out of the place like a survivor from a bombed-out building. I think Corrigan asked me where I was going, but I didn’t answer.

I barely made it into my car when the full force of my predicament slammed into me.
I may not be able to save my aunt.
I crumpled in my seat. A moan from deep inside me welled up, followed by a howl so harsh it scraped my throat raw. I pounded on the steering wheel until my palms hurt.

After a few minutes, my anger spent, I drew myself up. My palms stung, but that was nothing compared to the anguish I’d feel if I couldn’t save Aunt Lena.

I dreaded doing it, but I checked the time. I swallowed the rising panic and called the one person I could lean on.

As soon as my father’s phone rang, I came to my senses. How could I cry to him when I’d hoped to spare him from this horrific nightmare? It was too late, though. He picked up.

“Have you found Lena?” His voice was so expectant, another piece of my shattered heart chipped off.

“No, not yet, but we have more leads. It’s just a matter of time. Anyway, I just wanted to touch base with you.”

“But how do we know she’s safe? That they haven’t hurt her?”

We didn’t, but if I let my mind go there, I couldn’t function. “It’ll be fine, Dad. I wanted to tell you I love you.”

“Same here, but twice as much. Bye.”

I held the phone against my breast and whimpered. Will he love me as much if Aunt Lena dies because of my ineptitude? I closed my mind to that. If I allowed that thought in I’d be of no use. That’s when I formed a plan. If I had the nerve to carry it out.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I
was deep in thought when Corrigan rapped on my car window. When I looked up, he motioned for me to roll it down.

“Are you okay, Claire?” He’d been asking me that a lot and I always said yes, posturing as a brave female PI. When this was all over, I’d assess the toll it had taken. But for now, I put forth my best effort to keep the charade up.

“I can handle it. What happened with Santore? Couldn’t you arrest him? Didn’t he do something to that policeman?”