Cannoli to Die For

by Peg Cochran

  “I don’t believe it. You got a Brazilian?” Flo yanked her hand away from Sally.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to.”

  “What do you mean you didn’t mean to? How on earth do you get a Brazilian by accident?”

  “I mean I meant to get some information on Dotty from Beatriz. How was I supposed to know what a Brazilian was?”

  “Lucille, everyone knows what it is.”

  “Not everyone—I didn’t.”

  Sally’s head was ping-ponging back and forth between Flo and Lucille.

  “I told you to ask for a bikini wax.” Flo put her fingers back in the bowl of soapy water on Sally’s tray. “What does Frankie think?”

  “I don’t know—I haven’t told him yet.”

  “I bet he’s going to love it.”

  “I don’t know, Flo.”

  “I think I’ll get one for my honeymoon.”

  “Are you crazy? I wouldn’t do that again if you paid me.”

  “Yes, but as you get older, you have to find ways to keep things interesting, if you know what I mean.”

  Lucille didn’t want to think about what Flo meant. She’d only dated Richie for a short time, but the thought of Flo marrying him and keeping things interesting still gave her a slight twinge.

  “I hope you at least got your money’s worth from that waxer.”

  “Her name was Beatriz. She was very nice. She’s from Brazil. That’s why I thought she’d be real good at doing Brazilians.”

  Flo rolled her eyes. “Did she have anything to say about Dotty.”

  “Yes.” Lucille paused dramatically.

  “Well, go on.”

  “Dotty was planning to divorce Jack. On account of his affairs with all them au pairs. And she planned to do it before she signed that contract with Oprah. That way she wouldn’t have to split the money with her husband.”

  “I wonder if Jack knew what her plans were?” Flo pulled her right hand from the bowl of water and replaced it with her left.

  “I’ll bet he did. And that’s why he killed her.”

  “What now?”

  “We need to find out who he’d been fooling around with.”

  “And just how are we going to do that?”

  “We could follow him and hope he meets up with her.”

  • • •

  Lucille was up early the next morning. Theresa was already downstairs at the kitchen table eating a buttered roll. An empty plate was opposite her.

  Lucille got the coffee going and pulled out a chair to sit down and wait.

  “Don’t sit there,” Theresa said.

  “Why not?”

  “Cousin Louis is sitting there.”

  Lucille looked at her mother carefully. Maybe her mother was pulling her leg? How far was her mother going to take this business about cousin Louis’s ghost? She looked serious enough though. Lucille figured the best thing to do was to humor her, so she switched seats. It was a lot easier than trying to get her mother to see sense.

  Frankie came into the kitchen dressed for work, and Lucille jumped up to get out some eggs to make him an egg white omelet. He always complained it was tasteless, but if he wasn’t going to look out for his health, she would have to do it for him.

  “Don’t sit there,” Theresa said as Frankie was about to lower himself into a kitchen chair.

  “Why not?”

  “Cousin Louis is sitting there.”

  “Cousin Louis is dead,” Frankie said. He stared Theresa in the eye as he lowered himself onto the chair.

  “I know that,” Theresa said, picking at her roll. “What do you think I am—stupid? It’s cousin Louis’s ghost, of course.”

  Frankie rolled his eyes. “Ma, there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

  “Forget it, Frankie,” Lucille said, sliding a cup of coffee in front of Frank. “I already talked to Ma, but there’s no changing her mind about this ghost thing.”

  Frankie muttered something under his breath as he took a sip of his coffee. He spluttered and slammed the cup down in the saucer, sending liquid splashing over the side.

  “Hot,” he said, grabbing a paper napkin from the dispenser on the table and blotting up the spilled coffee.

  Lucille chopped some onion and some red pepper to add to Frankie’s eggs. He couldn’t say this omelet was bland. She finished cooking it, rolled it onto a plate and handed it to Frankie. She untied her apron and hung it from a hook on the back of the pantry door.

  “I’m going to get dressed.” She kissed Frankie on the cheek. “I’m meeting Flo for breakfast. I’ll see you tonight. Have a good day.”

  She crossed her fingers behind her back and said a quick prayer to Saint Felix, the patron saint against lies.

  • • •

  Flo was already outside the Garibaldis’ house hiding behind a large rhododendron when Lucille got there.

  “Pssst. Over here.” Flo waved a hand over the top of the azaleas.

  “What are you doing?” Lucille said as she slipped behind the bushes and crouched down next to Flo. Sheesh, her knees never used to crack like that.

  “We don’t want him to see us, do we?” Flo pointed toward the house. “And we can watch the front door and the garage from here. I already checked the windows and it looks like he’s alone. He was sitting at the breakfast table eating a bowl of cereal and reading the paper.”

  “I don’t know how long I can stay like this, Flo. What if he doesn’t come out? Maybe he’s planning on spending the day hanging around the house. I know that’s what I would do if I was him.”

  “The door is opening!”

  The garage door went up and a red sports car shot out.

  “There he goes,” Flo said, scrambling to her feet. “Come on. We’ll take my car, it’s faster.”

  “What’s wrong with my car?”

  “Half the time it doesn’t start, and we don’t have time to waste.”

  They headed toward Flo’s Mustang, which was parked across the street. Fortunately, Jack was caught at the stop sign at the end of the road waiting for several cars to pass. That was a lot of traffic for this small town, but Lucille supposed everyone must be on their way out to enjoy the beautiful day. These were the sorts of people who played golf and tennis and had lunch at their club.

  Flo put the car in gear and shot away from the curb, flinging Lucille back against her seat.

  “Sheesh, Flo, take it easy, would you?”

  “I can’t. We’ll lose him. He’s already through the stop sign.” Flo pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

  Lucille grabbed the door handle. “Whoa, Flo, that was a stop sign.”

  “I know, Lucille. I’m not blind. I looked both ways and no one was coming.”

  Lucille hoped they would be able to catch Jack, but even more than that, she hoped they would live long enough to find out where he was going.

  “Slow down, Flo.”

  “I don’t want to lose him.”

  They followed Jack down Morris Turnpike hoping he hadn’t noticed they’d been following him. At one point a silver Lexus came between his car and Flo’s, and Flo drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as the Lexus put on its blinker, came to a stop and made a left turn.

  The way ahead was clear, and she managed to catch up with their quarry again.

  They followed him, and a few minutes later he turned off and headed down a long drive. A discreet sign off to the side read Canoe Brook Country Club.

  Lucille whistled. “This sure is some fancy place,” she said as the expansive clubhouse came into view.

  Flo pulled into the parking lot and found a space near Jack’s car, but not so near he was likely to notice them. Flo turned the motor off, and they waited until they saw Jack get out of his car. They held back as he walked toward the front door of the club. He had a golf bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Dr. Hacker belongs here,” Flo said as they followed him into the lobby. “He says it’s very nice.”

  She wouldn�
�t call this place nice, Lucille thought. Nice was the Old Glory Restaurant or Winberries over in Summit, where Frankie had taken her for dinner on their anniversary. This place was like some kind of palace with soft carpeting, chandeliers, fancy furniture and air that didn’t smell of nothing—no cooking odors like someone had just boiled cabbage or of garbage that had been left in the can too long.

  “I wish I’d dressed up more.” Lucille looked down at her worn slacks and the pills on her old sweater.

  “Pretend you’re the help,” Flo said.

  Lucille stopped short. “And just who are you going to be?”

  “Lucille, this is no time to get touchy.” Flo grabbed Lucille’s arm. “He’s stopping.”

  They ducked behind a statue on a pedestal. Flo peered around the edge.

  “He’s meeting someone. It’s a woman.”

  “Can you see who it is?”

  “No. She’s got her back to me. But I’m thinking it’s the same woman he met in the parking lot yesterday. She’s got golf clubs with her, too.” Flo clutched Lucille’s arm. “He’s moving again.”

  They followed Jack further into the club, keeping a safe distance behind him. Lucille was grateful the thick carpeting absorbed the sound of their footsteps.

  “They’re going outside,” Lucille whispered as Jack and the woman disappeared through a door. Lucille started to walk toward the exit.

  Flo grabbed Lucille’s arm. “Give them a minute. We don’t want to bump into them.”

  They waited briefly, pretending to admire the paintings on the walls. One of them looked to Lucille like little Lucy had done it—all swirls and blotches of paint. You couldn’t hardly tell what it was supposed to be.

  “Okay,” Flo finally said. “I think it’s safe now.”

  They scurried out the same exit door and found themselves on a patio with the golf course just beyond. They looked around but didn’t see Jack and the woman.

  Lucille shaded her eyes and looked out over the course. “That’s them, isn’t it?” She pointed to a man and a woman in the distance. “Come on.”

  “We can’t just walk out there,” Flo said. “We need some clubs or we’re going to look awfully conspicuous.”

  “Well, I don’t have no clubs, do you?”

  “You see any golf clubs, Lucille?” Flo held her arms out at her sides. “We can rent some in the pro shop.”

  They ran into the shop and Flo pulled out a credit card. The clerk handed her a receipt to sign. Flo looked it over.

  “These things are expensive,” she said to Lucille. “No wonder they call golf a rich man’s sport.”

  The clerk disappeared through a door behind him and reappeared with two bags of clubs, which he propped against the counter.

  “Sheesh, these things are heavy,” Lucille said as she hoisted the bag onto her shoulder.

  Clubs in hand, they strolled out onto the course.

  “Okay, what do we do know?” Lucille said, trying to shift the weight of the clubs.

  Flo frowned. “All I know is we hit the ball and try to get it into one of those little holes.” She pointed into the distance, where a small red flag fluttered in the breeze.

  “Do you want to go first?”

  “No, that’s okay. You go ahead.”

  Lucille dropped the ball onto the ground and took a swing at it the way she’d seen them do on TV once. A large chunk of earth with grass clinging to it flew into the air. Lucille looked down. The ball hadn’t moved. This golf thing might be harder than it looked.

  “Fix that divot,” a man behind them yelled.

  Lucille and Flo looked at each other.

  “What’s a divot?” Lucille said.

  “Beats me. Just ignore him. We’ve got to keep moving or we’re going to lose Jack.”

  Lucille took another swing at the ball but missed again. “Come on, we ain’t getting nowheres,” she said as she picked up the ball and threw it.

  “I don’t think that’s kosher, Lucille.”

  Lucille put her hands on her hips. “Are we here to play golf or to find out who Jack’s been fooling around with?”

  “You’re right.”

  Flo took her ball and threw it, too. It landed a couple of feet shy of Lucille’s. They scurried after it.

  “Can you see Jack?” Flo said as she bent and picked up her ball.

  “No. We’d better hurry.”

  Suddenly a golf cart whizzed into view. “Mind if we play through?” the driver asked. He was in his thirties with movie star good looks.

  “Not at all,” Flo said in a husky voice, batting her eyelashes at him.

  Lucille frowned at her. “Don’t forget you’ve got a ring on your finger now.”

  “I know. But a girl can still have some fun, can’t she?”

  “We’re not going to catch Jack on foot. This bag’s heavy, and I think I’m getting a charley horse in my left leg.”

  “What are we going to do then?”

  “I have an idea.” Lucille pointed to the golf cart sitting off to the side.

  “But that’s not ours, Lucille.”

  “So what? They have a whole bunch of them up by the pro shop. He can get another one.”

  “You’re right. My back is killing me from carrying these clubs. If I’d known we were going golfing I’d have gotten myself some of those cute shoes like they sell in the pro shop.” Flo looked down at her chunky-heeled suede boots.

  “Get in then.” Lucille was already in the driver’s seat.

  “Do you know how to drive one of these things?” Flo asked as Lucille turned the key and started the engine.

  “It can’t be no different than driving a car, can it?” Lucille said as they shot down the fairway.

  They went around a curve, and Flo grabbed the side of the cart.

  “I think you need to slow down.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Maybe you are, but I’m not,” Flo said, clinging to her seat. “Watch out, Lucille.”

  They whizzed through the middle of a group of golfers, sending them scattering in every direction like pinballs.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” a man said, waving his golf club at them, his face red with fury.

  “Don’t stop now,” Flo said, “or I think that guy back there will kill us.”

  They swooped down a hill with a small pond off to one side. Jack and the woman were just ahead of them.

  “Stop here,” Flo said. “We can walk the rest of the way.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t? Put on the brake.”

  “The brake is stuck,” Lucille said in a panic. Sweat was dripping into her eyes.

  By now they were mere feet away from Jack and his companion.

  “Watch that tree, Lucille.” Flo pointed frantically toward a large oak.

  Lucille swerved to avoid the tree. Only now she was headed straight for the couple in front of them. They looked like they were arguing. The woman reached up and slapped Jack’s face.

  Jack turned and a look of horror crossed his face—his eyes wide in disbelief and his mouth open in a silent scream. He and his companion jumped apart as Lucille and Flo barreled between the two of them.

  Chapter 13

  “Did you see the woman’s face?” Flo said.

  “Yes, didn’t you?”

  “No, I had my eyes closed.”

  “It was Alva. I guess all them rumors about Jack and the au pairs was true.”

  “No wonder Jack wanted Dotty out of the way. I’ll bet he’s the one who gave Alva that necklace.” Flo gripped the side of the golf cart. “She didn’t look too happy with Jack though.”

  “Yeah, it looked like one of them lovers’ quarrels.”

  Flo grabbed Lucille’s arm. “Lucille, look out.”

  They were headed straight for a high wooden fence.

  “Turn around,” Flo yelled.

  “I can’t. We’re going too fast. We’ve got to get the brake unstuck.”

&n
bsp; “Let me see if I can do something.”

  Flo bent over and felt around on the floor for the brake pedal. Lucille shifted her foot and Flo screamed.

  “You just stepped on my hand.”

  “You put your hand under my foot.”

  “I did—”

  “Not now, Flo. Do something.”

  Flo fiddled with the brake pedal. “I can’t.”

  “Brace yourself,” Lucille said as they continued on a path toward the fence.

  She said a prayer to Saint Andrew Avellino, patron saint against sudden death.

  “Turn, Lucille, for chrissake.”

  Lucille jerked the wheel and hung on as the cart tilted on two wheels and veered to the right. Now they were speeding across the grass toward the club parking lot.

  A spray of loose gravel shot up as the front wheels of the cart hit the macadam.

  Lucille tensed her hands on the wheel. They were beginning to ache.

  “That was a close call,” Lucille said as she maneuvered the cart between a Cadillac and a BMW.

  They were moving away from the cars now, down the long drive toward the main road. It looked like traffic had picked up since they arrived.

  “We’re coming to the end of the driveway, Lucille.”

  “Do you think I can’t see that?”

  “Can you make the turn?”

  “I don’t got any choice. I’m going to try.”

  Lucille clenched her teeth, narrowed her eyes and concentrated on guiding the runaway golf cart. Fortunately there was a break in traffic and she was able to pull out onto the main road. A man in a black SUV slammed on his brakes as she shot in front of him.

  Flo turned around in her seat. “I don’t think he’s too happy. He’s shaking his fist at us.”

  “Yeah? So what?”

  Sweat trickled down Lucille’s forehead and into her eyes. Next time she was going to let Flo drive.

  The cart seemed to be going a lot faster on the golf course, Lucille thought, as cars backed up behind her, horns blaring. People were rolling their windows down and shouting. Sheesh, everyone was so impatient these days.

  “They’re yelling for you to pull over,” Flo said, risking a glance behind them again.