Killer Cannoli (A Terrified Detective Mystery Book 2) (17 page)

“Had to cut Santore loose. Didn’t have the warrant yet and the clerk gave him the key. Of course, that was after one of Santore’s goons persuaded him with his fist. But the guy refuses to press charges. Says he ‘fell,’ so that went nowhere.”

Corrigan punched the palm of his hand with the other, probably wishing the receiving hand was Santore’s face. “And that rookie they sent.” He frowned. “I had to go let him out of the john. He says someone knocked him down and locked him in.” He shook his head. “Claims he didn’t see who did it.” He paused. “Oh, and more bad news. The calls you got were from a disposable phone. One was found in a dumpster behind a McDonald’s.”

I had guessed as much, but it was like another pin stuck into me and I cried out. How quickly my plan to stay strong caved in. I clamped my hands over my mouth, but it was too late.

Corrigan yanked the car door open, twisting and bending over, to embrace me. The warmth of his body comforted me like a stuffed animal does a baby and I wanted to bask in it forever. But I had my aunt to save and finally pulled away. “Thanks, Brian. To quote a cliché, I needed that.”

He gave me a half-smile. “My pleasure. Sorry it took me so long to do it.”

Reality struck or rang back in. It was my phone and Alex was on the other end. “Hello?”

“Claire, hi. I finally got hold of my Aunt Carmela. She says my uncle was close to Valcone and it broke his heart when someone killed him.” His voice full of disgust, he added, “I suppose that means someone else will die so my uncle can avenge Valcone’s murder. Anyway, I asked her about Santore and she says my uncle calls him
figlio di putana
so there’s bad blood there. But she doesn’t know if he’s seen Santore or talked to him since Joey died.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it. Really.”  On one hand, I believed him, but the more skeptical part of me whispered silently, “He’s only giving you bits and pieces to keep your trust. Stay on your guard.” I continued, “If you hear anything else, let me know. Please.”

“I will and if my uncle is behind this kidnapping, I swear I’ll do whatever I can to help you get your aunt back and put him away.”

“Thanks, Alex.”

Corrigan scowled. “What did
he
want?

“Just to tell me that his uncle, Bucanetti, doesn’t like Santore. Calls him a… well, it translates to ‘son of a prostitute’ and said he was real broken up about Valcone dying. Nothing about my aunt, though.”

“Claire, I hope you weren’t counting on that guy’s help anyway. He may call himself Carpenter, but his veins pump Bucanetti blood.”

I drummed on my steering wheel. I didn’t have time for discussions about blood. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t about to fill Corrigan in on my most recently hatched scheme. He’d probably try to talk me out of it.

Luckily, his phone rang. “Corrigan here. Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there.” He hung up. “A neighbor of your aunt’s called the police. Says that about the time your aunt was taken, she saw a man trying to get into your aunt’s house. Claims to have gotten a pretty good look at the guy. I’m going in to question her myself.”

I patted my fluttery stomach. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I found it hard not to feel some excitement. Then a spark of doubt. “Didn’t they canvas the area right after Aunt Lena disappeared? Why did this neighbor wait so long to report it?”

He shrugged. “Says she was scared the guy would come back and hurt her. But her daughter finally talked her into coming forward, for which I’m grateful. I’ll have her go through the mug shots. Do you want to come with me?”

Only five hours left. I couldn’t take the chance on the neighbor. Instead I’d hedge my bets and execute my plan.
But how great would it be if I didn’t need it?

I watched Corrigan drive off then started toward my destination. The store wasn’t far, but all the way there I checked to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I even drove down a few side streets and made a sudden U-turn.

I parked and scanned the lot for a few minutes before dashing into the massive office supply store. I picked up a pack of two flash drives and paid cash for them, all the while looking over my shoulder. Shoving them into my purse, I exited through the main door, my nerves tight enough to snap.

It wouldn’t be pretty if the kidnapper suspected I used a ringer for Joey’s flash drive. Unless the real thing miraculously appeared on its own, I had no hope of locating that flash drive in time to save Aunt Lena.

Now I just had to wait for the kidnapper’s call. I didn’t know if it would come through on my phone or
Cannoli’s
, but it would come soon. I drove back to the bakery to wait.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I
paced back and forth, looked out the dining room window and saw nothing.  I continued waiting. With a little over four hours until the deadline, I got antsy and ideas, all bad, boomeranged in my brain. I finally gave up and acknowledged that my hopes rested on the flimsy fake flash drive plan working.

Although I’d returned to my aunt’s bakery knowing the kidnapper would call, I still shuddered when
Cannoli’s
phone rang. The monster knew I was there and a shiver ran down to my toes thinking that the kidnapper most likely had his eye on this place or on me.

But the call was from someone wanting to know when
Cannoli’s
would open again. I hesitated, then, every molecule in me hoping it’d be right, I replied, “We’ll reopen in one or two days.”
Please, God, let it be true.

I hung up, feeling a little better, as if saying it made it true. I basked in that hint of sunshine for a moment, until my cell phone rang. That same sandpaper voice. It was the kidnapper.

“Hello, Claire.”

I grabbed a chair and lowered myself into it and struggled to form words. “Where do I pick my aunt up?”

“Do you have want I want?”

Sweat broke out on my forehead. I had to make it sound legit. “Yes, yes I do.”

“You have to try harder, Claire.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your aunt wants to come home, but you’ve just lied. I have to punish you for that. You got until 7:00. I’ll contact you at 6:00.”

“You can’t! I didn’t lie. Please.” He was gone and I curled up on the chair, afraid to move. I’d lost more time and maybe made the kidnapper mad.
Will he hit Aunt Lena? Will she cry out for my help or curse me for letting this happen to her?
My chest hurt and I felt lightheaded. I sat in that position for a few minutes until the chest pain passed.

I called Corrigan and gave him the details of the kidnapper’s call. I was amazed how in the retelling, I remained calm and almost detached. 

“Doubt it’ll turn up anything, but we’ll trace it and get a tap on it. In the meantime, hang tight. Are you alone?”

“Yes. Hey, what happened with the neighbor?”

He chuckled, but it was without humor. “Turns out the guy she saw was Ed.”

I groaned and wondered, in passing, how Ed was. I promised myself I’d call him when Aunt Lena came home. As if that was a talisman for her to come back.

Corrigan continued. “One good piece of news: George LoPresti, the Luxury Auto’s guy who set up the car to be stolen, was arrested. I’m going in to question him now. Maybe he knows where your aunt is.”

I wanted to get excited, but I’d been beaten down so often, I couldn’t risk wasting the energy. I knew the answer before I asked, but asked anyway, “Will you call me as soon as you know anything?”

“Of course. I better go. Make sure everything’s locked tight. I’ll send someone over there as soon as possible.”

After I checked all the locks and had my gun at the ready, I sat down to rehash the events, starting with Aunt Lena’s disappearance. I hoped something would stick out, something I’d missed in my frenzy to save her.

First, I was right in that either the kidnapper or someone he hired was following me. Otherwise how did he know I’d planned to pass off a new flash drive as Joey’s? In the harsh light of what happened, I realized how reckless an idea that had been.
What an idiot!

To stop from berating myself any longer, I wrote down what I knew so far. It was dismally little.

Joey Corozza and the big fish in Cleveland, Albert Valcone, both used to work for Bucanetti. Bucanetti probably ordered Valcone to kill Joey because Joey was blackmailing Bucanetti.

But who killed Valcone? Bucanetti? No, Aunt Carmella says Bucanetti loved Valcone. Dominic Santore worked for Valcone, but now with Valcone dead, Santore had come up in the world. Did he kill his own boss? Who wanted what Joey had? That answer was simple. All of them.

I went round and round with the four names, but came up with nothing that could help me get my aunt back. I tried to look at it in a different way.
Joey must have known they’d come after him.
So if the flash drive wasn’t in his apartment or his locker, where would he put it to keep it safe? Where else did the guy go?

As if in answer to that question,
Cannoli’s
phone rang.

“Claire? It’s Angie. Lena there by any chance?”

“No.” I slouched back into the chair. Angie wasn’t the inspiration I’d hoped for.

“Do you know if she’s still at the police station? I figured she’d be done by now, but when I call her cell phone it goes straight to voicemail.”

Should I come clean with Angie?
“Oh, she’s fine. Yeah, she’s still at the police station. They’ve got her looking at mug shots. I guess there are a lot of them.” This lie was feebler than my old nonna’s eyesight.

Angie asked, “Is there something you’re trying to hide? Swear to me Lena’s fine.”

“She’s…” I couldn’t keep my voice level. “She’s…I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

I gave Angie the rundown between her gasps of horror but left out the part about time running out. At the end she gulped and asked, “Did anyone check at the golf place? He told me he liked—”

I interrupted, “What golf place?”

“That little one. You know, on Brookpark by all the car dealerships.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and envisioned the area. “You mean the miniature golf near Ridge Road?”

“Yeah. A couple times he bragged how often he made holes in one.” She snorted. “Big damn deal.”

I picked up my purse and keys. “Thanks, Angie.” I started to hang up, but Angie was still talking.

“Meantime, I’ll pray for Lena and you. Unless you want me to go with you.”

Yeah, so I could worry about two women.
“Sorry. Gotta go. Thanks.” Before she could argue, I ended the call.

Could Joey have left the flash drive at the golf office?
It seemed farfetched, but at this point I had to follow every lead. I jumped in the car and sped off, hoping I didn’t get a speeding ticket.

***

The miniature golf’s parking lot was empty except for a beat-up Chrysler in the back. It was still a little too cool for outside activities and since the kids were still in school, business was probably slow. Maybe slow enough for Joey to get to know the clerk. Maybe hide the flash drive on the premises.

The wind whipped through me and I pulled my light jacket tighter and walked into the miniature golf office. There was nobody there so I wandered around and finally located a lanky, freckled young man playing the number two hole. Concentrating on his putt, he didn’t notice me until I loudly cleared my throat.

He looked up at the last minute. His ball hit the spinning windmill’s blade at the end of the green, bounced off, and landed in the water on number six hole.

I held up my hands. “Sorry!”

“Nah, no biggie.” He grinned and was clearly checking me out.

“Are you the manager?”

He scoffed. “Me? No. My uncle is. But I’m here most of the time. If you want to play, we need to go back to the office.”

“I don’t want to play.” I pulled out my identification and introduced myself. “But I do have some questions to ask you.”

“I’m Jason and I’m single.” He laughed like he was the first person to ever say that.

I gave him a half-smile. “That’s nice. Do you know Larry Walters, about fifty, skinny guy, real pale?”

He pointed, excited. “Yeah, like an albino. Me and him used to play the game together. He even brought me lunch one day. Good guy.” His eyebrows knitted. “What’d he do?”

“You didn’t know he’s dead?”

“So that’s why he stopped coming here. Thought maybe he got pissed because I mostly won.” He lowered his voice like we were co-conspirators. “How’d he die?”

“Murdered. That’s why I’m here.”

“Holy Shit. How come the cops never came and you did? Who you working for?”

I didn’t want to squander any more time giving answers to Huck Finn. “I’m working with the police. You ready to answer some questions?”

He grinned and his eyes gleamed. “Are you gonna arrest me?”

“No, of course not. Do you want me to?”

“I guess not.” But the shine in his eyes faded.

I asked him to tell me what he knew about Larry, aka Joey. I could have been there the rest of the day so I reined him in a bit. “When was the last time you saw him? Did he always come alone?”

“About a week ago. Yeah, but he said one day he was gonna bring a lady friend.”

Probably my aunt.
“Did he ever give you anything and ask you to keep it for him?”

He stared up at the ceiling and picked at his chin. “Yeah, he did. Gave me an old golf club, number five wood. Told me he was scared somebody would rip it off when he moved.”

I tried to hide my surprise. “Did he say where he was moving to or when?”

He frowned. “Yeah, but I don’t remember and he didn’t tell me when.” His face lit up. “Hey, you wanna see the club? It’s in the back room somewhere.”

I noted the time. “Yeah, while you’re getting it, maybe you could try to remember where he said he was moving.”

He squinted at me. “I’ll try, but I don’t think it’ll help.” He strolled into the back room while I paced back and forth. I didn’t know much about golf clubs, but maybe Joey hid the flash drive inside the head. I waited five minutes then shouted, “Any luck?”