Burned to a Crisp (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 3)

by Catherine Bruns

  "Why?" Josie was standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest.

  Victoria sipped her coffee. "Because I knew about the money he was lifting from Luigi and wanted my share. Plus, the sex was great."

  Ew. A mental picture I could do without.

  "Mamma mia." Grandma Rosa shook her head.

  "Do you have any children?" I hoped the answer was no, for the children's sake, at least.

  Victoria shook her head. "No brats for me. No time, no interest in wiping snotty noses." She eyed me curiously. "I bet you want at least a dozen. You look the type."

  "Thank you." I considered her remark a compliment.

  She stretched her legs out underneath the table, obviously growing more comfortable with us. "Listen. All I want is what's rightfully mine. Bernardo asked me for a divorce right before he died. I told him I'd go along with it if he split the dough with me, and he agreed. I should have known he'd pull this crap. Typical."

  I stared at her in amazement. "Well, somehow I don't think he planned on dying."

  "Yeah, but someone else did, and now they have my money. Who knows—maybe Luigi ordered him killed. Sergio or Rufus might have had something to do with it too."

  "What's a Rufus?" Josie asked.

  "He's Sergio's goon of a pal. Built like an army tank. He goes everywhere with Sergio. Those two will do whatever Luigi says. Sergio would never dare risk his father's disapproval."

  Grandma Rosa spoke up. "So Bernardo was the black horse of the family."

  "Sheep, Rosa," Josie offered.

  Victoria barked with laughter and smiled at my grandmother. "You are so adorable. Yeah, that's about right. First, he tried to win Luigi's approval then finally realized it was impossible. So he started embezzling from the company. But he got a little careless, and then, once you add in tax evasion, the stupid jerk was on the verge of getting himself locked up." She smiled. "And just when Bernardo thought he was scot-free, he goes and gets himself killed. Funny how that happens, huh?"

  Josie and I exchanged a glance. Was Victoria responsible for her husband's death? She certainly had a motive. Then again, she was only one of a long list of people who were happy to dance on Bernardo's grave.

  Victoria rose. "I have to go. The wake is tonight, and people will be stopping by my house. Look. I'm not trying to cause trouble for your sister. I just want what's rightfully mine."

  I thought my family was abnormal sometimes, but they paled in comparison to the Napolis.

  "Tell your sister I'll be waiting to hear from her. If he told her where he put the money, she'd be wise to cooperate. I'm the least of Gianna's worries. If Luigi finds her, he won't exactly ask questions first, if you get my drift."

  Oh, I got her drift all right. She gave us all a curt little nod and crossed the hallway into the living room. I heard a small squeak, and Josie and I both rushed in. I had a pretty good idea of what had caused her startled outcry.

  Dad was sitting at the computer desk, talking in earnest to someone. Mrs. Quincy from across the street was stretched out inside the coffin, her hands folded over her stomach.

  Oh no. My business was being run in the middle of a loony bin.

  "Domenic, what did you do to her?" Josie demanded.

  Mrs. Quincy's eyes flickered open. She waved at me and Josie then turned her head back in my father's direction, making no attempt to sit up. "This is mighty comfortable, Domenic. Will it last for an eternity, though?"

  "Why don't I go get you some coffee, and we'll talk about it?" My father lumbered to his feet. "You stay right where you are."

  As I stared at the bewildered look on Victoria's face, I found myself wondering once again how to keep customers away from the living room. Should we put up another sign to redirect traffic? I doubted anything would work, but hey, we could always try.

  Victoria visibly shuddered when my father waved to her and walked into the kitchen. She turned to stare at Mrs. Quincy lying in the coffin with her eyes closed then finally found her voice. "This place is nuts." She slammed the door behind her.

  Josie smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead and started toward the kitchen. "Perhaps we should think about filing for bankruptcy. The bakery is doomed as long as your father is around, Sal."

  "I'm here," Sarah called and rushed in through the living room door. She looked frazzled and was wearing a white blouse with a huge stain down the front of it. When Sarah noticed me and my grandmother staring at it, she blushed. "I'm sorry. I spilled coffee on myself during the drive. This day has been a nightmare so far."

  Grandma Rosa motioned toward the stairs. "Gianna's clothes are upstairs. You should go to her room and see if you can find another blouse to wear. The apron will not cover that stain."

  Sarah frowned. "I-I don't want to impose."

  "Oh, it's fine," I said. "Gianna wouldn't care. Go ahead on up."

  Sarah started upstairs, and Grandma Rosa returned to the kitchen. I was about to follow her when my cell phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, so I figured it must be business related. "Good morning. Sally's Samples."

  "Hey," a deep male voice said. "Is this Sally?"

  "Speaking. How can I help you?"

  "I was wondering if your bakery made deliveries."

  The man was doing a wonderful imitation of an obscene phone caller, his voice just above a whisper and accompanied by a great deal of heavy breathing. I was tempted to disconnect but couldn't afford to turn away potential business. "Well, it depends on your location. I don't have a driver available."

  Maybe my father would be willing to help us out. Then again, he might end up scaring off a potential customer if he mentioned this new business venture of his. If Dad stayed home though, he was certain to run off more of our customers. Kind of a lose-lose situation for me.

  "I'd like six dozen chocolate chip cookies. Could I have them delivered at one o'clock this afternoon by the hot-looking babe with the flaming hair and temper to match?"

  An ice-cold chill ran through me. I was certain I knew who this voice belonged to now. "Um, what's the name and address?"

  "Ninety-five Simmons Way. It's a furniture warehouse. Still need the name?" I could tell by his tone that he was taunting me.

  Oh, I knew the building all right. It was only about five minutes away from my bakery, but everyone in town knew the business—or should we dare say operation—that was run from its location. My suspicions were confirmed. "Give me a moment while I grab a pen and write the address down. Don't go away."

  "Look, I know the lady is busy, but it would be nice if she delivered the treats in person," he chuckled. "It's—ah—kind of in her best interest to make the trip. Correction. It would be in your sister's best interest. Capisce?"

  "I—uh—understand completely. Please hold on so that I can check Josie's schedule. It won't take a minute."

  So that was it. They'd found Gianna, or at the very least knew where she was. My hands shook while I covered the receiver. I ran into the kitchen and nudged Josie, who had the mixer going. She was making buttercream frosting for a batch of sugar cookies. She turned it off, wiped her hands on her apron, and looked at me, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

  Afraid that the man still might be able to hear me, I whispered in her ear. "I think Sergio's on the phone."

  Josie's blue eyes grew large and round. "What the hell does he want?"

  I pointed a finger at her chest. "You."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The day had gotten off to a slow start, but by noon we had sold over three hundred dollars in products. Not bad for our first morning. Grandma Rosa even rang up some sales for us. We kept bumping into each other in the kitchen, but that couldn't be helped. There were also several times that I had to reroute people heading in the direction of the living room and my father's intriguing business.

  I was in the middle of making a batch of fudgy delight cookies—vanilla cookies with a droplet of fudge in the center—when a piercing scream filled my ears. Josie was over at the display ca
se, bagging an order for a customer, while Grandma Rosa was talking with one of our neighbors by the cash register. Sarah was on the phone, taking an order.

  Fearing the worst, I ran into the living room just as an elderly woman hurried by me, a bag of cookies in hand.

  "Mrs. Arnold," Josie asked, "what happened?"

  The elderly woman looked like she had just seen a ghost, or more than likely, a fat, balding Italian man sitting beside a coffin. "You people are twisted. I'm never coming here again." She bolted out the screen door, crying.

  The other customers in the kitchen exchanged a confused look, but I was confident I knew what had happened.

  Josie collected money from her customer and pointed at the screen door. "Be sure to use this exit. We, um, have to make repairs to the other sections of the house today."

  "What kind of repairs?" The man she was waiting on asked with interest.

  She slammed the register shut. "There are some things around here that just have to go."

  That was an understatement. My father and his so-called business venture were beyond repair.

  Josie and I entered the living room. My father was seated at his computer desk, engrossed in an article he was reading on his laptop. I glanced at the title of it and winced. "Secret Confessions of a Funeral Director."

  "Dad, what did you do to Mrs. Arnold? She said she's never coming back to the bakery again."

  He gave me a disbelieving look. "Ah, she was overreacting. I just invited her to take this baby for a little test drive." He patted the lid of the coffin. "Is it my fault it slammed shut while she was inside?"

  Josie groaned aloud and threw up her hands. "Domenic, you're killing us."

  He laughed. "Hey, you made a funny, Josie."

  Ugh. I tried in vain to reason with him. "Dad, I know this is your house. But could you please indulge us for a few days and move that thing out of here? It's really bad for our business."

  My father thrust his hands forward. "How can it be bad? You eat in one room, and then you come in here to talk about restful accommodations. Makes perfect sense to me."

  If there was one thing I knew, nothing about my father made sense. It never had.

  We heard the kitchen screen door open and a man's voice in greeting. Grandma Rosa called to us. "Sally, Josie. Father is here."

  She meant Father Grenaldi. We crossed the hallway, went through the dining room, and back into the kitchen. Grandma Rosa chatted with Father as Josie and I got his order ready. The cookies were already made. We only had to box them up.

  Father Grenaldi raised his bushy white eyebrows as he handed me money. "I haven't seen you in church the last couple of weeks, and the wedding is coming up soon."

  "I'm sorry, Father. We'll try to make it this week." I handed him his change. Sometimes I still wondered why Mike and I hadn't run off and eloped. My mother's side of the family was devout Catholic, and she insisted we needed to get married in the church to "cancel out my first disastrous marriage." Yes, those were her exact words. It didn't matter to her that Colin was already dead. Maria Muccio's mind, like my father's, was a mystery I had never managed to solve.

  Mike wasn't Catholic but agreed to go along with a church wedding for my sake. We were supposed to be attending mass every week, but as Sunday was our only day off, it was difficult to make it sometimes. Not to mention how much we enjoyed lazy Sunday mornings in bed.

  "Sal," my mother called. I heard the click-clack of her high heels on the floor and turned, just as Josie gasped out loud. My mother was dressed in a bright orange bikini that barely covered the necessities. She turned around, giving us the whole effect. I shut my eyes in embarrassment and wished I could disappear. My mother was wearing a thong. Even though I was more than twenty years younger, I never would have dreamed of wearing such a getup. Then again, I wouldn't look nearly as good as she did, either.

  "What do you think? I'm going to wear this in the swimsuit competition. They asked specifically for us to wear thongs. I got to choose the color, though. Do you think it's too revealing?"

  Grandma Rosa clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in disapproval. "My dear daughter, there is nothing that it does not reveal. You might as well be naked."

  My mother caught sight of Father Grenaldi standing there and gave him a little finger wave. For once, she looked embarrassed. "Oh, hi, Father. Sorry. I didn't see you. Excuse my skin." She giggled.

  "Excuse her lack of judgement," Grandma Rosa added.

  Father Grenaldi stood there, frozen in place, his eyes bugging out of his head. He looked at my mother like he'd just seen the pearly white gates himself. His face turned whiter than his hair, and the boxes of cookies slipped from his arms.

  "Father?" Grandma Rosa waved a hand in front of his face.

  Father Grenaldi gave a small cry before he pitched forward, and his head crashed onto the vinyl floor.

  * * *

  "We've got to get out of there." Josie grumbled as she settled herself behind the minivan's wheel. "Your parents are driving the business into the ground."

  I couldn't help thinking that my father might be able to use that as a slogan for his potential business. What the heck is wrong with me?

  After we'd managed to revive Father Grenaldi and make sure that he was all right, we'd left him sitting in the dining room with Grandma Rosa having coffee, a dazed expression on his face. Grandma Rosa had banned my mother from the kitchen, so she and my father had gone upstairs to "watch television." Like we were all too stupid to figure out what they were really doing.

  Since things had settled down a bit, Josie and I had left to make a special delivery, or at least that was what we'd told my grandmother and Sarah. Grandma Rosa had glanced at us sharply but said nothing. I had a sneaky suspicion we weren't fooling her.

  I pulled my seat belt around me. "What can I do? There's currently no rental space in town that would work for us."

  "Maybe we'll have to run the bakery out of a basement somewhere." Josie took a left at the end of the street. "I'd work just about anywhere right now to get away from your loony parents. Anyhow, what exactly did Sergio say on the phone?"

  "He wanted to know if we made deliveries," I said. "And he asked that you be the one to bring the cookies. 'The hot-looking babe with the flaming hair and temper' were his exact words. He said it was in Gianna's best interest that we come. I don't like it. What if they found her?"

  "If he asked for me, he won't be happy to see you tagging along," Josie pointed out.

  I stared at her in disbelief. "Yeah, like I'd really let you go alone. Right."

  She shrugged. "I can handle him. Don't worry."

  "These aren't your average customers. The whole family is dangerous, Jos. Luigi wants his money back, and nothing or no one is going to get in his way."

  "The warehouse is right across the street from the diner. We'll stay outside. He can't do anything to us in broad daylight."

  The whole thing made me uneasy. What did they want from us? Did they know something about Bernardo that could hurt Gianna further? What if they followed us last night? Holy cow, I'd never even thought of that. "I should have asked Brian to come with us."

  Josie pulled the van up in front of the building. "Oh sure. That definitely would make them happy if we brought a cop along." She placed the van in park and unbuttoned the bottom three buttons on her pink blouse and tied the ends together, revealing her flat stomach.

  I watched her, mystified. "What the heck are you doing?"

  Josie held a compact in front of herself and applied bright red lipstick to her mouth then fussed with her hair. "Trying to look the bimbo part. Might as well give Sergio what he wants."

  "I know what he wants. You're playing with fire." Great. I winced at my unintended use of the word.

  She winked. "A little sweet talk and I'll have Sergio eating out of my hand. I know his type. The guy is a two-faced liar. It wouldn't surprise me if he killed Bernardo and is trying to pin it on Gianna." She opened the door. "I'll
get the truth out of him. Consider this a form of recreation."

  Unconvinced, I got out of the vehicle. I didn't like this game at all. Sergio was dangerous, and the stakes were high. Plus, what if he had that pal of his with him? What was his name again—Ruckus?

  We removed the two boxes of cookies from the back of the van. As Josie slammed the door and we turned around, Sergio appeared with another man at his side. I yelped, and we both jumped about ten feet in the air.

  Sergio smiled. "Take it easy, ladies. No reason to be afraid of us."

  No, not at all. Just a wolf in sheep's clothing—or rather a thousand-dollar Gucci three-piece suit.

  "Um, it's sixty dollars for the cookies," I stammered. "We don't take personal checks."

  Sergio reached into his wallet and handed me a hundred-dollar bill. "Keep the change, sweetheart." He turned to Josie, and his dark eyes widened with delight. "Looking good today, red."

  Josie giggled appreciatively. She played the game better than most, but I knew deep down that she was nervous. She'd even removed her wedding ring while we'd been in the van. If Rob found out about this stunt, there would be hell to pay. "Thanks," she said.

  Sergio tried to put an arm around her, but I chose that moment to thrust the boxes of cookies into his hands. "We really appreciate your business."

  He glared at me but said nothing as he turned and handed the cookies to the giant standing next to him. Sergio's friend was at least six-and-a-half feet tall and weighed well over three hundred pounds. The arms that clutched at the boxes were the size of tree trunks. Cold, gray eyes of steel observed me with interest and also chilled me to the bone. His head was shaven, but he sported a slim brown ponytail that hung down his ape-sized back.

  "Who's your friend?" I already had an inkling of who the man was. This was my attempt to stall Sergio from putting the moves on Josie.

  Sergio nodded to the brute. "This is my buddy, Rufus." He poked his friend in the side and then squinted through the sunlight at me. "Rufus wants a girlfriend."