Franki Amato Mysteries Box Set

by Traci Andrighetti

  I met her gaze. “And to get even with Stewart, you planted the bead from his bracelet at the scene of the crime.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Yeah, and by the way, he was telling you the truth tonight when he said I’d stolen that bracelet from his apartment.”

  Veronica gasped. “You were at the Carousel Bar? But we would’ve seen you in your habit.”

  I stared at Concetta, openmouthed. So Stewart had been telling the truth about the stalking too.

  She gave Veronica a mock sad look, as though she were nothing but a pathetic fool. “I’ve been following the two of you since you took the case, genius. And I definitely know how to dress for the occasion. I was sitting on the couch behind Stewart, with my back to him, and not a one of you was astute enough to see me.”

  So she had been following me the day I saw her at CC’s Community Coffee, and who knew where else. “But I don’t understand why you’d frame Stewart. Why didn’t you kill him like you killed Angelica?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Because Stewart is different than Angie. For him, there’s a fate worse than death—rotting day after day, year after year in prison, cut off from his money and privilege and, most importantly, from women and partying. And since those imbeciles on the jury acquitted him of Imma’s murder, I had to make sure there was another murder he’d be found guilty of.”

  Veronica shook her head. “How could you, an ordained nun, take another human life?”

  Concetta curled her lips at Veronica. “You have no idea what it’s like to lose a twin. After Imma was gone I felt lost without her, empty. At first I thought the Lord would fill me up. But one day I realized that I couldn’t serve a god who’d allowed my sister to be murdered by a lowlife like Stewart Preston.”

  Any shred of hope I’d had that she might spare Veronica and me was lost with that statement.

  “Plus, if you’d known Angie, you probably would’ve killed her too. She was something else, that one. Take the night I strangled her. When I showed up at LaMarca with that scarf, I presented it to her as a gift. Being the bitch that she was, she ripped open the package, took one look at the scarf, and said it was ugly and tacky, just like me.”

  Concetta stared at the floor and chuckled. “If you could have seen the horrified look on her face when she realized that I’d come there to strangle her with that scarf.” The chuckle turned cackle, and tears streamed from her eyes. “Priceless.”

  I couldn’t bear to listen to her laugh about the last moments of Jessica’s life, particularly while Veronica and I faced the last moments of our own. “So what are you going to do to us?”

  “Well, the first thing I’m going to do is search your cars for the video you got at Lenton’s.” She looked at me. “Yes, Franki, I followed you there too. Then I’ll dispose of the disc and the skull bead, which I found in your nightstand. And tsk tsk.” She waved the knife. “Such an obvious hiding place.

  I shot her a go-to-hell look.

  “After that, I’m going to go call the police and say that when I was driving through the area, I saw a masked intruder leaving your apartment. In theory, he would’ve exited through your bedroom window, Franki. The same one I broke to get in to your little bordello here.”

  Veronica glared at her. “What excuse are you going to give them for being in the neighborhood?”

  “I’ll tell them I was coming to talk to the two of you since you were investigating the murder of my twin and her best friend.” She gave a wicked grin. “And I can tell you this. The New Orleans PD doesn’t usually question the motives of a nun. And if they did, thanks to my gloves here and this handy coif on my head, they certainly won’t find my fingerprints or DNA in this whorehouse.”

  Her gloating made me so angry and so frustrated that I alternated between wanting to cry and wanting to scream bloody murder. And it was more apparent by the second that I was powerless to stop her. My hands were numb, and I was no closer to freeing them. And judging from the sick look on Veronica’s face, she wasn’t faring any better. The situation looked grim, so I had to buy more time. “You still haven’t said what you’re going to do with us.”

  “Oh, that’s because I like drama.” She giggled.

  I held my breath.

  Concetta put her finger to her cheek. “One night I asked myself, ‘What would be a fitting end for two busybody PIs who kept sticking their necks out to help that awful Ryan Hunter and that scumbag Stewart Preston?’ Of course, whatever it was had to be symbolic.” She gave a dry laugh. “I mean, once a Catholic, always a Catholic, right?”

  Veronica snorted.

  The smile faded from Concetta’s face, and she studied Veronica. “The answer actually came to me in prayer.” She placed the butcher knife on the counter, reached into the pocket of her habit and pulled out a dark red scarf. “Strangulation.”

  25

  Concetta wound the red scarf around each of her gloved hands and walked toward Veronica. A devilish smile spread across her face. “You first, Miss Private Chicks, Incorporated.”

  “Wait,” I shouted, desperate to stall. “Don’t you want to tell us what the red scarf means? Otherwise, the symbolism will be lost on us.”

  Her eyes rolled to the heavens. “Well, if you read the bible, Franki, you’d know what it meant. But judging from this den of iniquity, it’s pretty clear that you don’t spend your leisure time perusing the word of the Lord.”

  “I just haven’t unpacked my bible yet.” I made a quick promise to God that I’d redecorate if he let me live.

  “Red is the color of Christ’s blood.” Concetta’s tone was patronizing. “It symbolizes atonement for one’s sins, so as you can see—”

  “How have we sinned?” Veronica’s eyes blazed with anger.

  “Oh, don’t act so innocent. You’ve been aiding a murderer. Last time I checked, honey, that qualified as a sin.”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the kitchen doorway. To my astonishment, there stood Glenda. Although her thin, lined face was red with rage, and she was wearing an S&M outfit replete with a silver boa, she looked nothing short of a saving angel.

  I turned and saw to my horror that Concetta had wrapped the scarf around Veronica’s neck, and my best friend thrashed in her chair.

  With the stealth of a ninja, Glenda snuck up behind Concetta and clubbed her with the tallest stripper shoe I’d ever seen.

  A dull thud echoed, and Concetta collapsed to the floor in a pool of black fabric like the Wicked Witch of the West.

  “Glenda?” Veronica croaked wide-eyed, no doubt from the lack of oxygen. “Is it really you?”

  Despite the fact that she’d just knocked out a homicidal maniac with the shoe in her hand, Glenda nevertheless held her signature cigarette holder in the other. “In the flesh, sugar.”

  Judging from her S&M outfit, I assumed she’d meant that literally.

  Glenda slipped the shoe back on her foot and turned to me. “I called the cops right before I let myself in. You girls all right?”

  “I think so. Thank God you’re here.”

  “You can say that again, Miss Franki. Now give me a minute while I take care of some unpleasant landlady business.”

  I watched in a mixture of awe and amazement as Glenda made quick work of Concetta. She put her cigarette holder in her mouth and removed her black leather garter belt, which was attached to partial black leather pant legs. First she detached the pant legs, and then she used the belt to tie Concetta’s hands behind her back. Next, she used the garter straps to bind her feet to her hands. When she was done, Concetta looked like she was doing the yoga bow pose.

  Glenda stood up, adjusted her short, zippered black leather vest, and took a long drag from her cigarette. Then she put her cigarette holder on the counter and picked up the butcher knife. She walked over to Veronica and began cutting the ropes binding her hands.

  I was still in shock. “How did you know we were in trouble?”

  “Well, I was entertaining Guido, and he happened to g
lance out the window and see a nun pass by. Naturally, I got suspicious.”

  “Makes sense to me.” With a Visitor Policy that allowed women to have two men stay the night, the fourplex was no convent.

  “I would’ve come to check on you two sooner, but Guido was all in a panic. He started crossing himself and saying Hail Marys and Our Fathers like he was possessed.”

  I stared at her, speechless.

  Veronica rubbed her wrists as Glenda freed her feet.

  When Glenda was done, she walked over to the counter and took another drag off her cigarette. “And then Guido started going on about how what we were doing was a sin.” She exhaled a frustrated puff of smoke. “So, I had to kick him out.” She walked over to cut my binding and gave Veronica and me a knowing look. “I don’t think I need to tell either of you ladies that a man who doesn’t sin isn’t sexy.”

  Veronica shook her head. “Of course not.”

  “Around that time I heard a scream, and that’s when I knew the nosy nun was up to no good. So I came downstairs and found Napoleon outside—”

  “Is he all right?” I interrupted.

  “He’s fine, sugar.” She freed my hands. “He’s in the pleasure palace.”

  I had no idea what she meant, but I hoped she was talking about her apartment.

  As she knelt and cut the rope from my ankles, I looked at Concetta and saw that her head moved from side to side. “She’s coming to.”

  Concetta raised her head and swore. “What the—?” She rocked back and forth on her belly trying to break free. “Who did this to me?”

  Glenda sighed and put down the knife. Her eyes narrowed to slits and, in a move that undoubtedly came from one of her stripteases, she crawled to Concetta and leaned low so she could look her in the eyes. “I did. Now, until the cops come and haul your unholy heinie away, you keep your trap shut, sister, or I’ll be forced to club you again. And while you’re lying there all nice and quiet, you’d best pray you didn’t scratch my Ginsu knife.”

  She sat up, removed her boa, and stuffed one end into Concetta’s mouth.

  Concetta’s eye twitched, and she went limp.

  Because Glenda prided herself on her stripper clothes, I decided to pay her a costume compliment. “You and your S&M outfit saved our lives.”

  “Miss Franki, this is my biker stripper costume. I don’t dress S&M. That’s not ladylike.”

  I heard the wail of police sirens in the distance.

  Glenda rose. “Well it’s about damn time the cops got here. I’ve got a reputation to protect, and I sure as hell don’t want people to think I’m running a home for wayward nuns.”

  I took a sip of my double soy latte and leaned back in my desk chair, relishing the early morning silence of the empty office. I hadn’t slept a wink after the events of the previous night. All I could think about was my family and how they were going to react to the news that I’d solved my first murder case. I half expected my parents to insist that I come home and fulfill my pre-ordained destiny to work in the deli. Of course, my nonna was going to tell me that I needed to use my newly honed investigative skills to get serious about finding a husband. I wondered what she would say if she knew that I’d actually found a husband—one who belonged to someone else.

  The lobby bell sounded.

  I stood and peered out my doorway.

  Veronica walked up the hallway.

  “Good morning.” My words sounded strange after everything that had happened.

  “How do you feel today?” Veronica asked as I followed her into her office.

  I took a seat in front of her desk and noticed that she looked as tired as I did. “Other than rope burn on my wrists, I’m fine. How about you?”

  “Same. It kind of seems like it was all just a crazy, bad dream.”

  “I wish it were.”

  She toyed with a pen on her desk. “You know, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to resign after almost getting killed.”

  I looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I knew that being a PI could be every bit as dangerous as being a cop. Besides, I’ve learned more after two weeks of working for you than I did the whole time I was on the force, and I’ve figured out something really important about myself too.”

  “Oh?”

  I shifted in my seat. “This may sound kind of weird, but it has to do with what Concetta said when the police were taking her away.”

  “You mean, when she kept screaming, ‘What did I do to deserve losing my twin?’“

  “Exactly. Last night I was thinking about how she was looking at Immacolata’s death from the wrong perspective. She thought she’d done something to bring about Immacolata’s death, when it’s so obvious that it had nothing to do with her. I mean, she’s not responsible for Stewart Preston’s actions.”

  Veronica raised her brow. “And so?”

  “It just got me thinking about myself and how I’ve been taking it for granted that the way men have treated me was my fault.”

  She stared at me, expressionless. “I’m not following.”

  I straightened. “The cheating. I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to figure out what it is about me that leads my boyfriends to cheat. But, like Concetta, I had it all wrong. It’s not about me. It’s about them and their own weaknesses. And you know something else?”

  “What?”

  “I’m done taking responsibility for other people’s bad decisions.”

  Veronica leaned back, crossed her arms, and smiled. “I’m so lucky to have you working for me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re one smart cookie. And you’re resilient too.”

  I laughed off the compliment, but inside I was glowing. “Just the same, after last night I’m hoping we get nothing but a steady stream of insurance fraud and cheating spouse cases. That reminds me, did we ever hear back from Twyla Upton?”

  “Not a word. But I did talk to Ryan Hunter. He was very grateful, and he apologized when he heard we were almost killed.”

  “That’s nice of him and everything, but I’m glad to be done with that guy and with the whole Evans case.”

  “I know. I just feel so bad for the Di Salvo family, especially Maria.”

  I wrinkled my lips and looked at the floor. “Me too. Can you even imagine what she’s going through? First Imma, then her husband, and now Concetta, the one who was supposed to be so good.”

  “It’s just awful.”

  “And all she has left now is Domenica. You can bet that one is going to give her more trouble.”

  Veronica sighed. “I really hope not.”

  The front office door slammed.

  I grinned. “David’s here.”

  He rushed into the room. “Are you guys—uh, ladies—okay?”

  I smiled. “I guess you heard what happened?”

  “Did I? Private Chicks is all over the morning news.”

  Veronica’s face lit up. “Franki, turn on the TV.”

  I stood and switched on a small television set on top of a file cabinet. The first image I saw was Glenda sidling up way too close to a local news reporter.

  Veronica gasped. “What in the world is she doing?”

  David rubbed his nose. “A lot of interviews. I can’t believe you didn’t know. Everyone’s talking about how a gutsy stripper saved two PIs from an evil nun.”

  She groaned and put her face in her hands. “Turn the sound down. I don’t want to hear it.”

  I did as she asked. “Come on, Veronica, it’s not as bad as all that. You know the old saying, ‘There’s no such thing as bad publicity.’ Plus,” I glanced at the TV, “at least Glenda’s dressed somewhat chastely for her interviews.” And she was because the TV station had blurred out her royal blue velvet Prince pants, the ones with holes that fully exposed the butt cheeks. There was also the little matter of a three-inch rhinestone choker around her neck that spelled VIXEN.

  “Uh…” David nudged me. “Is that your phon
e?”

  “Oh, yeah, thanks.” I’d been so absorbed in the details of Glenda’s outfit that I hadn’t heard it ringing. I walked into the hallway to take the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Francesca?” My mother’s voice was crazy shrill, even for her. “This is your mother, dear.”

  “Yeah, hi, Mom.” The familiar tension rose in my chest.

  “Your nonna called your father and me at the deli and said that you and a stripper had a nun arrested. I know you haven’t been comfortable with your Catholicism, but this is taking things too far, don’t you think?”

  I sighed. “Mom, that nun almost strangled Veronica and me. She was the one who murdered Jessica Evans.”

  “What?” Her shrill had turned shriek. “Almost getting killed by a nun is big news, Francesca. Why didn’t you call us?”

  “I wasn’t exactly in the mood to chat after it happened. And I had no idea it would be on the news, especially in Texas. I was going to call you guys tonight to tell you about it. But how come nonna called you and not me?”

  “She wanted to let us know that she was going straight to Saint Mary’s.”

  “Why did she go to church?”

  “To pray for your salvation, dear. She says it’s a very serious sin to have a nun sent to jail.”

  Naturally. Wait until she hears that I’ve broken up with Guido. “Listen, I’m at work, so I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

  “Wait a second. Your father has something he wants to say to you.”

  A knot the size of the ones in Concetta’s rope formed in my stomach.

  “Franki,” he sounded surprised, “Mr. Giangiulio told me you solved that murder case.”

  “I had some help from Veronica and David.”

  “Well, I’m glad that you’re okay.”

  I held my breath and waited for the but.

  “And I wanted you to know that I’m proud of you,” he said in a soft, almost embarrassed tone. “Real proud.”

  My eyes opened wide, and a rush of warmth filled my chest. “Thanks, Dad,” I breathed. “That means a lot.”

  “Now you be careful out there.” He’d switched to his usual gruff tone. “And come home for a visit soon.”