Death, Taxes, and a Chocolate Cannoli (A Tara Holloway Novel)

by Diane Kelly

  “Tino?” She still looked confused. “Why? For what?”

  I didn’t want to tell her too much until I saw how things panned out, so I simply said, “A lot of things.”

  “You can add attempted murder to the list now,” Nick said. “Tino started the fire.”

  “What are you saying?” Benedetta shrieked, her mask fogging with her warm breath as she looked from Nick to me and back again. “That my husband tried to kill us?”

  “It sure looks that way.” Josh held up an odd-looking device that looked like a miniature model of the Starship Enterprise. “I caught him on my camera drone moving the catering truck to block the back door and tossing lit matches into the restaurant.”

  Presumably, Tino hoped his act of arson would be deemed an accidental grease fire.

  Benedetta launched into a litany of denial, shaking her head so violently I feared it might pop right off her neck. “No. No! No, no, no. No-no-no-no-no!”

  I wouldn’t want to believe it, either, if the man I’d built a life with, the man who’d fathered my children, the man who was supposed to be with me till death do us part, had tried to make that time shorter than nature intended. Especially if it were for only half a million dollars in life insurance proceeds. Hell, a hedge fund manager earned that much each quarter.

  As I watched Benedetta’s face, saw her shock and disbelief, I realized one thing for sure. Whatever Tino Fabrizio had been up to, Benedetta knew nothing about it. Otherwise, the events of this evening would not have been such a surprise to her.

  Nick turned to me. “I knew something was wrong when I saw Tino come out of the bistro with your pink phone in his hand. Just in case it was nothing, we didn’t want to tip him off by following him around to the back of the restaurant. Josh had his bag of tricks with him and launched the drone from our back door. It took us a few minutes to fly the drone over the restaurant, collect the footage, and review it. Once we saw the video, we realized Tino had started a fire inside. There wasn’t much smoke yet, so we wouldn’t have known if not for the drone.”

  With no open doors or windows to escape through, the smoke had been trapped inside, like us.

  Nick went on. “I was trying to break through the security doors when we heard the grate fall. That was smart thinking, Tara.”

  “Tara?” Benedetta said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

  “I’m not Tori Holland,” I told her. “I’m IRS Special Agent Tara Holloway.”

  Nick’s phone rang then. He punched the button to accept the call and put the phone to his ear. “Yeah?” A smile spread across his lips. He looked from me to Josh and back again. “Our guys have Tino. They surrounded him in his driveway at home. As far as they know, he didn’t have time to contact anyone.”

  Meaning he was apprehended before he could get in touch with Cole or Eric or any of his other goons and warn them off. Good.

  “They’re bringing him back here,” Nick said. “I doubt he’ll tell us anything, but they figured they’d let us see if we could get a confession out of him.”

  Benedetta spoke now, so softly we almost didn’t hear her. “Can I see the video?” she asked Josh.

  Josh looked to me. I nodded. Hard as it would be, Benedetta deserved to learn the truth.

  As he pulled up the video on his laptop, I scooted my chair up next to Benedetta and took her hand in mine. She needed to know that, even if she had a lousy husband, she still had a friend in me.

  She watched as, on the screen, Tino climbed into her catering truck behind the bistro and backed it up until it nearly touched the back door. She watched and sobbed as he rolled a large plastic barrel over to the door and inserted the hose in it. She watched, sobbed, and hiccupped as he opened the back door the inch or two it could open, sucked on the end of the hose to get the oil moving, and snaked the hose through the cracked door. And, finally, she watched, sobbed, hiccupped, and fisted her hands as he retrieved a matchbook from his pocket, struck a match, and set the entire book on fire, tossing it through the back door into her restaurant’s kitchen.

  “If I didn’t see it with my own eyes,” she said, shaking her head slowly, incredulously now, “I never would have believed it.”

  A black FBI cruiser pulled into the lot. Two agents sat in the front. Tino was buckled into the rear seat behind them. From the way he sat leaning forward it was clear his hands were cuffed behind him.

  Benedetta followed me, Nick, and Josh outside. The FBI agents unrolled the back window of the cruiser and climbed out.

  While Josh waited with Benedetta, Nick and I stepped over to the car and leaned down to look in the open window.

  “Hello, again, Tino,” I said. “I’m guessing by now you’ve been told that we’re with the IRS.”

  His only reply was to cast an eat-stromboli-and-die look in our direction.

  “Anything you want to say?” I asked him. “You might feel better if you come clean, maybe apologize to your wife.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to anyone,” he spat.

  “All righty, then.”

  As Nick and I backed away, Benedetta stepped up, stroking the ladle as if it were a kitten. Probably some type of subconscious calming ritual. “Can I have a moment with Tino?”

  I swept my palm toward the car. “Be my guest.”

  Benedetta stepped up to the car, stopping a foot away and staring through the open window at her husband. He looked straight ahead for a moment, but then cast a glance her way. There was no remorse in his expression, no regret. Obviously, his whole doting-husband routine had been nothing more than an act.

  “You bastard!” Benedetta shrieked, pulling the ladle back and smacking him soundly across the face with it. Smack!

  He grimaced and tried to duck his head as she pulled the ladle back for another hit.

  “How dare you!” Smack! “You thought you’d kill me and collect the insurance money?” Smack! “Think again!” Smack!

  As Tino tried in vain to evade her ladle lashes, we agents gathered together a few feet away.

  “Should we stop her?” asked one of the FBI agents.

  “Three more,” I suggested. “Sound fair?”

  The other agents murmured in agreement.

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  I moved forward and grabbed the ladle as Benedetta lifted it for another strike. “As much as I’d love to let you beat your husband to death, I’m going to have to stop you now.”

  She turned and gave me that friendly smile of hers. “But I was just starting to have fun.”

  I put an arm around her shoulders and led her back into the gallery.

  “Well,” she said. “I married a real asshole, didn’t I?”

  We shared a mirthless laugh before she broke down in tears again. I held her, letting her get it all out.

  When Benedetta was able to calm herself a few minutes later, Nick offered her his phone. “Would you like to call your daughters?”

  She nodded feebly, her lip quivering, and took the phone from his hand. She turned to me. “How do I tell them what happened? How do I do this?”

  I had no idea what to tell her. I couldn’t even imagine being a mother and having to break news like this to my own children, knowing how distraught and devastated they would be. But I knew it would all come out eventually. I decided I couldn’t go wrong by suggesting she do what my mother, the best mother on earth, would do. “I guess you tell them that you love them,” I said. “And then you tell them the truth.”

  chapter forty-four

  Hey, Good-looking

  Once Benedetta had spoken with her daughters and we’d given our reports to the fireman in charge of the scene, I offered to drive her home in her car. As devastated as she was, she was in no condition to drive. Nick agreed to follow us so he could give me a ride back to pick up my Hyundai.

  The FBI agents nodded when we told them we were heading out. “We’ll get some of our crime scene people out here to go over the bistro and Cyber-Shield,” one of them said. They’d seize t
he server, computers, and monitors, and, with any luck, find evidence of doctored videos.

  “We’ve got a team at Echols’s house as we speak,” said the other. “They’ll be taking him in for questioning, too, and seizing any evidence at his place.”

  “Great.”

  It was nearly midnight when we pulled up to Benedetta’s house. It was a nice two-story model with attractive landscaping, but a residence the couple could afford with their legitimate earnings. Tino must have hidden his dirty money from his wife. Perhaps he planned to spend it all on himself after she was gone, maybe live it up on a beach somewhere. Naples, perhaps, where he’d have access to all of the cannoli he could eat. It was doubtful he’d see much, if any, cannoli in prison, though. Neener-neener.

  Tino’s Alfa Romeo sat in the driveway at their house. It probably wouldn’t be there for long. The sports car would be seized along with any of his other ill-gotten property and used to cover taxes on the unreported income he’d extorted or to pay restitution to his victims.

  Benedetta’s crying daughters came out of the house as we pulled up, tears streaming down their faces. Silently but swiftly, they ushered their mother into the house. Tino Fabrizio might be one sorry excuse for a human being, but he had somehow managed to produce three beautiful and caring daughters. It would be a long haul before their lives returned to any sense of normality, but I knew the four women would get through this together.

  As we left Benedetta’s house in Nick’s car, a group text came in from Hana. Kirchner’s on his way to Looking Good.

  “Seriously?” I said. “That’s happening tonight, too?”

  I’d thought the fire at the bistro was the Thursday-night event Tino had referenced in the conversation recorded on the spy device. Apparently Tino had more in store. Kirchner obviously hadn’t heard about Tino’s arrest … yet. He was proceeding with whatever devious plan they’d concocted before Tino had been nabbed.

  Nick drove like a bat out of hell and pulled into the lot of a fast-food chicken place a block down from the optical shop. We sat and anxiously waited for the signal for all hands on deck. I’d been exhausted only moments before, but the thought of catching Kirchner in the act gave me a second wind.

  Nick reached over and fingered one of my singed locks, a smile playing about his mouth. “Burning Embers seems to have been an appropriate color choice.”

  I cut a pointed look his way. “Don’t even go there.”

  Josh pushed the button to unroll his window. “It smells smoky in here.”

  I scoffed. “Sheesh. Excuse me for stinking up the place.” It’s not like I’d wanted to smell like a campfire. The stench was drowning out my classic Chanel No. 5.

  As Josh’s window went down, a neon-green Cyber-Shield vehicle passed by, the number six noted on the back window.

  “There’s Kirchner now,” Nick said. “Hope he’s enjoying the drive because the next ride he takes will be with law enforcement.”

  Two minutes later, Hana sent another text to our phones. If you want a piece of this action, you better get over here.

  Nick started the car and we drove to Looking Good, making our way slowly and with the lights off. We parked twenty yards away from the front door and climbed out of the car. Nick and Josh were armed with their Glocks, while I had my Cobra. Along with the others, we moved in, swiftly and silently, toward the shop’s front door, stopping in the dark shadows that flanked the entrance.

  Kirchner stepped out of the door, failing to notice us as he turned back to lock it. We agents swarmed him, guns at the ready.

  “Hands up!” Hana yelled as she bolted toward Kirchner. “Federal law enforcement!”

  He turned, saw the horde descending on him, and tried to run back into the optical shop. Stupid, really. The back door was covered by a group of agents, too. There’d be no way for him to escape. And there was no one at the store to take hostage, either, so he’d have no leverage, no bargaining chip. A canister of tear gas is all it would take to put a quick end to any standoff. But I supposed it was his fight-or-flight instinct kicking in. He couldn’t fight such a large group of agents, and back through the door appeared to be the only place to flee to.

  He wasn’t fast enough, though. Before he could pull the door back open, Hana, Will, and Eddie were on him, slamming him against the glass and grabbing his arms to immobilize him. In five seconds flat he was cuffed and on the ground, the joint IRS/FBI team standing over him. As he squirmed on the ground, I frisked him and pulled a manila clasp envelope out of his jacket.

  Everyone gathered around as I stood, opened the clasp, and pulled the envelope open. Josh shined his cell phone into it. Inside was a stack of twenty-dollar bills secured by a red rubber band.

  I removed the bills and counted them. “Five hundred dollars,” I announced when I’d finished.

  Looked like the optician at Looking Good had decided to pay the protection fee, after all. He’d probably feared not only for his own life, but those of his wife and son. With any luck, now that Tino and his goons were in custody, the man would be willing to testify against the mobster.

  I shoved the money back into the envelope and surveyed the group. “We did it! We took down Tino Fabrizio and his minions!”

  The Operation Italian Takeout team exchanged smiles and high fives. Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Good job, guys!” I held out a hand and exchanged fist bumps with the FBI agents.

  Once we’d finished celebrating, I knelt down and looked Cole Kirchner in the eye. “We got your boss tonight, too. Did you know he planned to set a fire at his wife’s restaurant? With Benedetta, Dario, and me inside?”

  He averted his eyes. Yeah, he’d known. That made taking him down all the more sweet. Neener-neener.

  * * *

  Relief flooded through me. It was finally over.

  Nick took me back to the restaurant to round up my car, and I drove my Elantra back to my town house. With Fabrizio and his thugs now in custody, I could return to my home and my cats and my normal life. Not that my life could really be called normal …

  Given the late hour, I tried to sneak quietly back into my place. So as not to alarm Alicia, though, I turned on the hall light so she’d be able to see that it was me in the house if she happened to wake up and peek her head out of the guest room upstairs.

  Anne scurried up and mewed, rising onto her hind legs like a meerkat, desperate for me to pick her up and give her the loving she’d missed while I’d been gone. I proceeded to do just that, cuddling her in my arms and scratching the back of her neck with my fingers. “Mommy’s home.” I gave her a kiss on the head. “And she sure did miss you.”

  Anne responded by purring and rubbing her face against my shoulder.

  Henry actually deigned to hop down from his perch atop the TV cabinet. While he wouldn’t go so far as to come over to me, it was clear he would be willing to tolerate it if I happened to venture over to him and offer him a stroke or two under his chin.

  Carrying Anne in my arms, I went over to Henry and knelt down. I set Anne aside for a moment, and gave Henry the strokes he’d never admit to wanting. What an ego, huh?

  “Tara?” Alicia’s raspy voice came from the top of the stairs. She looked down the staircase at me, her face breaking into a sleepy smile.

  “I’m back.” I put a hand on a chair to leverage myself to a stand. “We got Tino and his goons.” Eric Echols was really more of a geek than a goon, but no sense belaboring the point.

  “Way to go!” Alicia said as she descended the steps. “We should celebrate with a glass of wine.”

  A glass of wine sounded heavenly. I was still buzzing with adrenaline and would need something to calm me down if I had any chance of getting some sleep. We might have Tino Fabrizio behind bars, but we still had Adam Stratford to deal with in the morning. A woman’s work is never done.

  Alicia and I went to the kitchen, where she poured us each a glass of moscato. As she held out the glass, she leaned toward me and sniffed. “Why do
you smell like smoke?”

  I accepted the glass from her. “Tino Fabrizio locked me and his wife and one of the chefs inside the restaurant and set the place on fire.”

  Her mouth gaped. “Oh, my God!”

  I shrugged. “All in a day’s work.”

  She simply stared at me. “I will never understand what possesses you to do that job.”

  “It beats preparing tax returns.”

  Apparently, she begged to differ. “I’ll take a depreciation schedule over a mobster any day.”

  I took a big glug of wine and eyed her. “Promise me that after you get married you won’t forget about me.”

  “Forget about you?” She set her wine glass down and grabbed me by the shoulders. “How could I?” She shook her head as if the mere idea were preposterous. “I love Daniel, but I’ll still need you. He’s incapable of giving an opinion when I go shopping for clothes, and he refuses to go to high tea with me.”

  “I hate high tea, too.”

  “I know,” she said, smiling as she released me. “But you’re still willing to go with me because you know it makes me happy. That’s a true friend and that’s rare. If you think I’m going to give that up for some boy, you’re crazy.” She picked up her glass and raised it, as Benedetta had done the day I met her. “To true friends.”

  I gently tapped my glass against hers. Clink. “Hear, hear!”

  chapter forty-five

  I Need a Vacation

  Just as Alicia had helped Nick with his undercover style as an art dealer, she got up early Friday morning to help me become my new alter ego, the octogenarian Melvina Cannoli.

  “Cannoli?” Alicia said as she sprinkled talcum powder into my hair to make it look gray. “Couldn’t you come up with something better than that?”

  “It was short notice,” I said. “Besides, I was hungry.”

  “Good thing you weren’t horny or you’d have ended up Melvina Orgasm.”

  I shrugged. “I bet I would’ve been real popular in high school with a name like that.”

  Once my hair was properly powdered, she applied my makeup, using an old bottle of foundation. The color hadn’t quite matched my skin tone and I’d stashed it in the back of a drawer, too lazy to throw it out. It had become thick and dry, the perfect consistency to spackle on my face to make me look older. She used a sharp black eyeliner to draw small lines around my eyes.