Killer Cannoli (A Terrified Detective Mystery Book 2) (22 page)

Santore stepped toward me and pointed to my shoes. “Take ‘em off.”

I stepped out of my favorite pumps and Freddie turned my shoes upside down. The flash drive fell into his hand.

“Okay, you got what you wanted. Let me have my aunt back. She’s no use to you anymore. And if you don’t, a copy of the flash drive will be in the police’s hands by tomorrow.”

Santore rubbed his chin, like he was considering my threat. Quick as lightning he slapped me. Hard. My hand flew to the spot he’d hit. His eyes were black and cold as if his soul had long ago departed.

I spun around to escape, but Freddie grabbed me by my hair and yanked me back. It felt like he’d stuck my scalp with a thousand pins. I cried out and tried to kick back at him, a mouse defending herself against a rhinoceros.

My hands and arms went limp when someone hit me on the back of my head. The room darkened fast.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I
awoke aching and disoriented with no idea where they’d taken me. I tried to rub my forehead, but I was roped into a chair, my arms tied together behind the back. My legs trussed at my ankles. A seed of panic sprouted like a weed and threatened to choke any rational thoughts. I forced myself to focus on my surroundings but realized they’d blindfolded me. No sound of my assailants. My mouth wasn’t taped.
Small favors.
I yelled. “Help!” and winced as the sound reverberated in my skull. No answer. I hollered again, but as before, no response. How could I handle the idea of being alone with only my fear to keep me company?
What are they going to do with me?
W
here was the help Bucanetti agreed to supply?

A door creaked open and I heard heavy footsteps moving toward me. “If you don’t shut it, I’m gonna slap tape on your mouth.” It was Freddie.

“Where am I?”

 “Ain’t important. Just relax.”

Someone else entered, probably Marco, and said, “Boss wants you to make sure the older lady stays calm and quiet.”
Was he talking about my aunt?

Freddie ripped the blindfold off me so fast some of my hair came with it and I bit my lower lip rather than cry out.

Even the room’s dim light was too bright and I squinted. Once my eyes adjusted, I tried to see who Marco was tying up, but Freddie, the human tree trunk, blocked my view. I had to content myself with slight turns of my head to glimpse the room, now my prison cell. It looked like a small warehouse with two doors; one must have been the front entrance, the other the back. Close to me on one side were huge gallon metal cans of olive oil. Just as close but on the other side of me were bottles of vinegar.
Was I the salad?

Freddie left first and I beheld a sight so wonderful I forgot my restraints and tried to jump up. It was Aunt Lena, tied and gagged. She was still alive. “Aunt Lena!” I twisted and struggled against the ropes binding me. Tears of joy and frustration mixed.

My aunt tilted her head and grunted, pushing against her ropes until Marco grabbed her by her hair. “Promise to sit still and I’ll let you ladies talk.”

I tried to scoot my chair closer. “Don’t hurt her.”

I cooed to my aunt.  “It’s okay, Aunt Lena. I’m here. Do what he wants.” To my relief, she stopped wiggling and Marco let go of her hair and removed her gag.

He flicked off the overhead light and disappeared through the same door by which he entered. The only brightness now came from a small desk lamp, enough to see any vermin that may scamper by.

My pulse raced. “Aunt Lena! I’m sorry about all this, but I’ll get us out.” I kept up my babbling until Santore walked in followed by his musclemen.

“You two done catching up?” He sneered. “It’s good you’re awake, Claire. Just in time to watch.”

He nodded to Freddie, who pulled out a shiny scalpel. The light flashed on the metal, making it look all the more deadly. With a demented smile, Freddie strolled over to Aunt Lena who flinched and released a muffled cry when he ran the blade softly against her face.

“Don’t.” My chest ached, probably my heart breaking.

Santore motioned for him to stop and Freddie dropped his hand to his side. He threw me a dirty look, like I’d spoiled his fun.

 “Either you tell us where the other flash drive is or your aunt will have a new face.”

Freddie ran his finger down the blade and demonstrated how sharp it was by cutting into his own flesh. The man was sick.

Santore leaned over me. “What’s it gonna be?”

A buzzing in my ears like I was in a beehive and a strong wave of nausea stopped me from answering right away. Aunt Lena’s wails brought me back. “The flash drive…” I hesitated, torn between keeping my aunt from suffering and doing the lawful thing. My aunt shook her head hard for me not to give in. I continued, “doesn’t have any copies.”

The scalpel in Freddie’s hand shook a tiny bit and he grinned as he lowered it once again to my aunt’s face.

“No!” I strained against my ropes, but failed to do anything but move the chair a half inch.

Marco, slouched against the door watching, stood at attention. In a flash he clamped onto Freddie’s forearm and stilled it. “Later. I heard something funny out front. Maybe we were followed.”

Santore spun around to face the entrance. “Shit! You and Freddie go back to the office and take a look. I’ll check through the back door.” He tapped his gun against my chin. “I guess you both got a short reprieve. But don’t count on someone being here to save you. Probably a false alarm. Marco’s always a little jumpy before a kill.” He let loose with a nasty laugh before hustling out the back door.

I was alone again with Aunt Lena. My mind spun. Maybe it was Bucanetti with the help he promised. If a shoot- out started, Santore and his creeps might use us as shields. Being a protective device wasn’t how I wanted to leave this place.

“Aunt Lena, I’m going to get loose and then free you.” Her head bobbed in agreement.

I bounced around as much as the ropes allowed, hoping to move the chair closer to the vinegar bottles I’d seen earlier. My head pounded and my breath was ragged, but fear drove me on. At last I was near enough. Now I needed to turn the chair slightly to grab a bottle. It took more time than I’d figured. My frantic movements had rotated the chair less than an inch. 

Desperate, I leaned over pushing against the rope, and head butted the bottle nearest to me. It wobbled like a bowling pin that’d been hit by a ball. I held my breath as the bottle tipped and crashed onto the cement floor. Vinegar everywhere as well as broken, sharp pieces of glass, perfect for cutting.

Hope they didn’t hear the bottle break.
To grab a shard of that glass I needed to be on my side. Excitement bubbled in me as I closed in on this one goal. I rocked sideways harder and harder. Sweat ran down my forehead into my eyes. Aunt Lena’s stifled cheers pushed me on. At last my chair tilted and fell on its side. Jostled and beginning to bruise, I stretched out my hands as far as the rope allowed. My fingers touched a piece of glass but couldn’t grab it. My wrists burned and bled, but I had to keep trying. 

I muffled a soft cry when my fingers made full contact with a glass fragment and, twisting my hands until I thought my wrists would snap, I set about slicing through the rope. While I whispered a disjointed prayer for deliverance, the rope fell from my one hand. I dropped the glass and pulled at the knot until I could slip my other hand free. The rope around my ankles took seconds to remove. My aunt’s muffled whoops of joy drove me and at last I heaved myself from the chair.

Moving fast, I grabbed the handle on one of the jumbo metal cans of olive oil. “Aunt Lena, I’ll untie you, but I have something to do before they come back.” I opened the can and spread the greasy stuff all over the floor by the door Santore would use to return. I hoped he’d slip and fall, hit his head and knock himself out. On second thought, I’d take great pleasure in swinging a full can of oil at him to knock him out myself.

The can empty, I rushed to my aunt and embraced her as best I could. Her eyes were red and swollen and I ached for every tear she must have shed. I put my finger to my lips so she wouldn’t give us away. Her skin around her mouth where they gagged her was so chapped and peeling, it hurt me to see it.

Adrenalin surging, I tore through the rope tied around her hands. “Think you can stand?” She nodded and I continued. “We’re going to make a break through the back door.” I could only hope I didn’t lead her or me right into a bullet.

A shaky step forward and my aunt would have toppled over if I hadn’t caught her. “Lean on me.” I wrapped my arm around her waist.

She tried to pull away. “I’ll slow you down. Go.”

“No! Both of us, together.”

Our arguing stopped when the back door squeaked open.

“Quick, hide behind that pile over there.” I pointed to some flour sacks in the corner of the room.

A full and heavy can of olive oil wasn’t my weapon of choice, but it was the only thing available. I got ready to swing it like a golf pro at Santore.

Santore opened the door with one hand, his gun in the other and stepped onto the greasy floor. He slid to the left, corrected himself and in a flash slid in the other direction, finally crashing to the cement floor. His gun fired and the shot echoed.

Like a Roman warrior, I ran at Santore as he tried to stand. I pivoted and with both hands swung the metal can like a shot-put. It hit him square in the shoulder and knocked him flat. He lay moaning, looking helpless. I dropped the can and picked up his gun. Aunt Lena limped over and I threw her arm over my shoulder to help her walk. We were on our way to freedom. Until the other door opened.

Freddie didn’t hesitate. A bullet whizzed by us and plowed into the wall. When I pushed my aunt away the greasy gun slipped from my hand.

 “Aw, too bad.” Freddie snarled. “Don’t move or my next bullet won’t miss.” Still aiming at us, he kicked my gun away and crept to Santore. “You okay, Boss?” He stuck out his arm to help his employer stand. His boss needed more assistance than Freddie could provide. “Hey Marco. Get your ass in here and help me.”

Marco strolled in, gun in hand. “I’ll help all right.” Without blinking, he shot Freddie. Then he shot him again. Santore dropped to the ground, making himself as small a target as possible. Freddie’s huge body fell across his boss’s legs.

My mouth dropped open and Aunt Lena gasped. My mind racing, I picked up the gun and used my blouse to wipe off the oil.
Was Marco working for Bucanetti now?
Even if he was, I couldn’t take any chances. I spun around to face Marco like a gunslinger in a Western.

At the same time, Santore yanked Freddie’s gun from Freddie’s hand and scrambled to his feet, slipping a bit in the oil. He wiped his hands on his pants and got a better grip on his gun. With labored breath he said, “Marco, how could you do it? How could you double-cross me? I’m gonna have to kill you.”

Now all three of us were armed but, with my hand’s awful trembling, I’d be the worst shot by far.  I stepped in front of Aunt Lena even though her girth prevented me from shielding all of her.

“Aunt Lena, get behind those barrels back there!” Joining her was tempting, but I had to see this through.

Marco tilted his head toward me but addressed Santore. “They’re already waiting for us to kill each other so they can have the flash drive.”

For a moment Santore shifted his eyes in my direction. “So, a truce until you and me have the goods?”

Marco shrugged. “Sure.”

This is how Bucanetti planned to help me?
Aunt Lena and I were on our own. So while Marco and Santore were trucing, my aunt and I had to escape. The barrels Aunt Lena stood behind were close to the back door, but Santore stood in the way. I couldn’t hold my gun on both men with equal effectiveness, but I had to try. Clearing my throat, I shifted my aim from Santore to Marco and back again. “Both of you lay down your weapons and put your hands up.” I swallowed hard and hoped they wouldn’t open fire on me.

They didn’t, but then neither man dropped his gun. Santore laughed. “You think we’re stupid enough to let you get away? I want to know where that other flash drive is or your aunt gets a bullet right now. Lena, get back here.”

“Stay where you are, Aunt Lena.”

This was not a win-win situation. I might have been able to wound Santore, but Marco was sure to get me and probably Aunt Lena too.

Marco spoke, “I’ll make you a deal. You give me this flash drive and the copy and you live.

Santore added, “Your aunt stays. Insurance so you’ll keep your mouth zipped until we get everything.”

I thought of my father. It was my fault Aunt Lena was in this dangerous mess. I couldn’t win. They’d kill Lena and me once they got all they wanted. Tie up loose ends.

Stalemate. I grasped at straws. “How about I take Aunt Lena with me and mail the flash drive copy to you?”

Santore’s face turned red. “Think you’re funny, bitch? See how funny a bullet is.” He hunched down and fired his gun at my aunt and me.

I must have pulled the trigger on my gun at the same time. Santore tumbled to the ground. His shot missed my aunt and hit a bag of cannelloni beans resting against the side wall. 

All of a sudden, my gun felt heavy and I dropped my hand. I didn’t know if Santore was alive or dead and was afraid to find out.

Marco lowered his gun and raised his hands. “Don’t shoot.” His voice turned soft, almost soothing. “I’m going over to see if he’s alive.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, I nodded and Marco made his way to Santore’s body. He nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “He’s dead.” He rifled through the man’s clothing, found the flash drive and dropped it into his own pocket.

I couldn’t move, but my aunt returned to my side and whispered, “It’s over. He’s dead.” 

I needed to get her out of there before Marco switched sides again. I slipped away from Aunt Lena, whose tears showed her relief, to retrieve my gun.

Marco had the same idea though and turned, holding Santore’s gun. He pointed it at me.“Claire, you don’t want to shoot me. In fact, you want to get me the other flash drive. The copy.”