Killer Cannoli (A Terrified Detective Mystery Book 2) (13 page)

“Claire? I know you don’t know me, except as Alex’s aunt, but I knew your father when he was a paper boy—”

Her voice grew further away and a man’s gruff voice took over. “Miss DeNardo? It’s nice you spending time with my nephew, but perhaps you got something more pressing to do.”

For a moment I couldn’t move or talk, as if I’d been encased in ice, but I broke through. “Where’s my aunt?”

He let loose with a guttural sound that passed for a laugh. “You got the wrong idea. I’m just offering some friendly advice.” The line went dead.

“Hello? Hello?” I sunk deeper into my seat, like someone had pressed me down with a giant thumb.

Alex pried the receiver from my hand. “What’s the matter?”

I didn’t buy his act. He knew. He had to. I wanted to squeeze information from him like he was a lemon. “Nice trick. I get on the phone and your uncle starts in on me. Was that meant to push me harder to find the evidence or just to scare me?”

His eyebrows lowered. “What do you mean? What did my uncle say?”

I held up my hands. “Enough.” I got up so fast I tripped, but righted myself. “You won’t get away with this.” Such a cliché, but I was lucky to put a sentence together.

I stormed out of the office with Alex fast on my heels. I couldn’t bear to stand waiting for an elevator so took the stairs. He still followed me.

I made it down half of the first flight when he clamped his hand on my shoulder. “Claire, stop. Whatever’s going on involving my uncle, believe me, I’m not part of it.”

“Sure, that’s what Hitler said about invading Poland. I don’t believe you don’t know about my aunt. Now let me go.” I pulled free and continued down the stairs.

He called after me. “That car stolen from Luxury Autos is part of this, isn’t it?” I halted and, as calm as the eye of a hurricane, he added, “Claire, I had nothing to do with that car being stolen and no way would I hurt you or your aunt. I heard about Joey Corroza’s murder and your aunt being the last to see him alive. But that doesn’t make me guilty of anything.”

“Never mind about Joey and my aunt. How do you know about that car?”

“The grapevine. Luxury Autos is part of my division but only insofar as I do their accounting. I didn’t know anything else until you came here. Even now, I’m not sure exactly what we’re talking about.”

My face contorted. “Like you don’t know about my aunt being kidnapped. With Michael Bucanetti as your uncle?”
Why was I having this conversation?

Alex held up his hands like a traffic cop. “Wait. What? I didn’t know. I swear. I, um, I’m sorry. I, uh, hope you get her back.”

“If you really felt sorry, you’d tell me everything you know.” All he gave me, though, was a blank look and a slight shake of his head.
My plan of drawing information from Alex slipped away. I turned toward the steps again. “Please don’t follow me this time.”

“I won’t.” He turned around and climbed up the stairs to his floor. A little of the tension between my shoulders dissolved when I heard the stairwell door close behind him.

I bounded down the steps, at first anxious to get away from him. But then a little niggling voice inside me asked if he wasn’t just on the wrong phone at the wrong time. I shook the unwelcome idea from my head. Another of Gino’s rules came to mind: ‘Don’t let good looks fool you into believing there’s a good soul behind that dazzling smile.’

 Gino was right, so I poured emotional concrete around my heart, and took a deep breath, not sure where to go next. Ed was out of commission, I couldn’t bring in the police, and I didn’t want to risk my dad, so it was just me. Me, a kidnapped aunt, and Joey’s missing evidence. I pushed my hair back behind my ears and straightened my spine. Gino’s rule number-something: ‘Clues are everywhere. Just make sure you’re still alive to find them.’

I drove back to
Cannoli’s
, let myself in and flicked on the light. Without my aunt bustling around, the place looked like it had died. Although it had been open just yesterday, I half-expected to see cobwebs in the corners and a yellowed newspaper behind the counter.

I didn’t want any customers dropping in, so I found a piece of cardboard and tape and put a sign on the door, reading ‘Closed due to illness in the family.’ I pushed my hair behind my ears. If I didn’t find what the kidnapper wanted that sign might soon read ‘Closed due to death in the family.’

Banishing that morbid thought from my mind, I began searching for Joey’s evidence. After an hour of finding only a dried-out contact lens, two pennies and a ticket stub, I plopped down on a chair, once more fighting the tears. I lost the battle and they poured down. My nose began to run so I went into the kitchen in search of a tissue.  I jumped when
Cannoli’s
phone rang. The hair on my arms stood at attention, waiting for the ringing to stop and the voice messaging to kick in.

Chapter Seventeen

A
man’s whispering, monotone voice began. “Have you found it yet, Claire?”

I leapt for the phone. “I’m trying. Give me more time. Please.”

“Time’s running out, Claire.”

“I need more time.” I pictured my aunt tied up, blood spilling down from her slashed neck if I didn’t find what the kidnapper wanted. My legs wanted to buckle. “At least tell me what I’m looking for.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Claire. I want the flash drive. You have 36 hours.”

I stared at the phone and sobbed, “No, you can’t.” But the caller was gone. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands. Not only had I lost precious time, but I realized the kidnapper was watching me. The sobs began anew, but I pulled myself together. I drew out my gun, stumbled to the door, and made sure it was locked.

It must’ve been the day for Gino’s rules because I recalled another: ‘Cops have their place and sometimes it’s next to you, saving your butt.’ I’d been short-sighted not to let Corrigan know about the note, even though it’d said no cops. Maybe, just maybe, Corrigan could help me save Aunt Lena. I grabbed my phone and called him. “We have to talk in person.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t you want to know where?”

His voice smug, he asked, “You think I don’t know you’re at
Cannoli’s
?” He took a deep breath and I thought he was going to end the call. Instead he said, “Okay. I’m here. Unlock the back door and I’ll rush in.”

Corrigan pushed against the door just as I was unlocking the deadbolt. As soon as I stepped back, he was inside the kitchen. “In case you’re wondering how I knew you were here, I’ve been looking for you. Already checked your office and home, so this was next. I was just around the corner. Thought I’d get your phone and put a trace on it.”

I clutched his arm. “Do you think anyone noticed you coming in? Did you see anyone else hanging around?”

“No to both questions.” His brows knitted. “Have you gotten another text?”

I balked, but came clean. “I got a note. Then a call, like someone was watching me.” He cut me off.

“When did you get the note? Let me see it, Claire.” He tapped his foot, waiting for a response. “Well?”

“I thought I was acting in my aunt’s best interest. I was afraid they would…” I couldn’t say it and my voice drifted off. 

He finished for me. “The note said no cops. You thought they’d hurt your aunt if you brought me in.” No scolding about my lying to him. Maybe he wasn’t such a jerk.

I regained my voice. “Yeah, until I went to see Alex Carpenter this morning.” I rushed my words so Corrigan wouldn’t interrupt me. “Michael Bucanetti called me there and alluded to me finding  the evidence. He’s behind this. I know it.” I inhaled to regain some composure. “Whatever Joey had, I better find it. I only have,” I looked at the time. “35 hours and 25 minutes.” My eyes misted and I blinked hard. No time to cry.

Corrigan stepped toward me and firmly placed his hands on my shoulders. “Okay. I’ll see if we can get prints on that note and I’ll call the Newark police about Bucanetti. Hell, I’ll even go there myself if I have to. In the meantime, we’ll lean hard on his local associates. If it looks like your aunt’s been taken over state lines we can bring the FBI in right away. Okay?”

I didn’t look at him.

“You’ve gotta work with me on this, Claire. Understand? Lena’s chances are better this way.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He was right, but I hated hearing that I might’ve wasted precious time on my own.

He crouched down, making sure he made eye contact. His voice was tender. “I want your aunt back safe. Same as you.”

I lowered my head and sagged into his arms. “I know.”

He sighed. “I wanted to tell you I wasn’t sitting on my thumbs but you didn’t give me a chance. We got a description on the driver of the stolen car.”

My heart thumped harder. “Who is he?”

“We don’t have a name yet. We’re still working on it.”

I’d have bet all my non-existent salary the guy worked for Bucanetti, that Newark slime.

Before I could say so,
Cannoli’s
phone rang once again, and both Corrigan and I stared at it. “Maybe it’s just a hungry customer.” I started toward the phone.  My voice shook in contrast to my casual words. “Thank you for calling
Cannoli’s
.”

“Claire, don’t hang up.” It was Alex.

I glanced up at Corrigan, who stood close enough to hear. I felt transparent; everyone knew my moves. I huffed, remembering how I’d thought Joey looked like a lab rat. I felt like one now. Put some cheese in my cage and study me as I run the maze. But in this case, the cheese was Aunt Lena.

I kept my tone as neutral as I could since Alex may have been reporting back to Bucanetti. “What is it, Alex?” I emphasized the name and Corrigan nodded.

“I got something on that stolen car. Let’s talk about it in person, say in ten minutes?”

I couldn’t believe he wanted to help me, but I was running out of time and I didn’t think his uncle wanted me sliced and diced and deep fried. Not yet, anyway.

I hesitated for just a moment. “Okay. I’m at
Cannoli’s
. Be here in fifteen minutes. You’re coming alone, aren’t you?”

“Who else would I—Yes, I’ll be alone.”

After the call, Corrigan’s eyes lit up like he was about to make the bust of the century. “I’ll be in the kitchen with the door partway opened when he gets here. That way I can hear everything he says.”

I wrung my hands. Unless Alex’s information included Aunt Lena’s location, my search to free her was going nowhere at breakneck speed.

Corrigan made himself comfortable in the kitchen while I paced in the dining room until I thought I’d made a permanent path around the tables. About five minutes before Alex was due, Corrigan’s phone went off. When his call ended, he swung the kitchen door open. His face was ashen with bad news. 

I heard my heart beating in my ears. “Is it Aunt Lena?”

His eyes opened wide. “Didn’t mean to alarm you. They found the guy matching the description of the car thief. His name’s Bill Machino. We go back a ways. Anyway, he resisted arrest and got himself shot. Good news is he’s still alive and willing to talk. Bad news is wound is serious and he’ll only talk to me.”

I felt like I’d run the Boston Marathon. “Maybe he knows where Aunt Lena is.”

His face clouded. “Could be. Anyway, you’re coming with me. I’m not going to leave you here alone with Carpenter. God knows what he might do.”

“It’ll be all right. I can take care of myself.” After all, Alex hadn’t done anything but annoy me and nobody ever died from being irritated. But I could see I hadn’t convinced Corrigan. “Can’t you send someone here to, you know, keep the peace?”

He huffed, rubbed his chin and relented. “Okay. But don’t let Carpenter in until a uniformed cop is with you.”

“Promise.” I said it, thinking to myself that promises were made to be broken.

Chapter Eighteen

T
ime was slipping by too quickly and I couldn’t waste it waiting until a cop came to babysit me. So when Alex pulled up a few minutes after Corrigan left, I opened the door for him. It crossed my mind he’d been watching to make sure I was alone. At first, I’d laid my gun on the counter but picked it up and slipped it into my waistband. I wasn’t planning on using it unless Alex took one false step. Then I’d spring it on him.

When I let Alex in, his tie was askew and his hair was out of place. He sure didn’t look like the got-it-together guy I’d first met. I fingered my gun in plain view as a reassurance to me and a warning to him.

“Thanks for seeing me, especially since you think I’m involved with my uncle’s business. I hope this will help change your mind.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pink office form, which he then unfolded. “Take a look at this invoice.” He pointed to my gun. “And I promise you don’t need that with me.”

“Look, I don’t trust anyone, except my father and maybe Corrigan. Now what’s this paper for?” “Top sheet doesn’t matter.” He flipped the top page to reveal a beige carbon copy. “But this does. Take a look.”

The letters and numbers were faint, but I could make them out. Written at a slant across the page were the words, “2580 Rosecrest Lane.” I took in a sharp breath. “That’s Aunt Lena’s address.” Lower down on the page was the license plate number my father had taken down.

I took a moment to calm myself then asked, “What’s this supposed to tell me?”

He slapped the paper across his palm. “It was an inside job. Like I said, I do the accounting for Luxury Autos so this came across my desk. Ordinarily, I take the top sheet, and the bottom one gets filed away. Whoever wrote this must’ve forgotten that there’s carbon between the sheets and a scribbled down the address and license number. It copied onto the bottom page. I think that note was telling someone which car to take. I don’t know whose address this is, though.”

I was on my last nerve and my voice reflected that. “You just
happened
to see this today?” I waved my hands around like I was conducting the Cleveland Orchestra. “If this is for real, why didn’t you take it to the police?”

Alex grasped my arm while it was mid-air. “I wanted you to know first that—”