Cupcakes and Corpses

by Carole Fowkes

  Corrigan actually laughed. “Yeah. You are a desirable woman, but I wasn’t thinking of that guy as competition.”

  My ego deflated a bit.

  Oblivious, he went on. “That attachment could be of use. He may know more than he’s letting on. More than he’ll tell a cop.”

  “You think Timothy was involved in his sister’s murder?”

  “No. But there may be more to the Pittsburgh story, and if you’re alone with him, he might tell you.”

  “You never trust anyone, do you?”

  “I’m a cop. I’m paid not to trust people.”

  “Tough way to live. Anyway, Timothy would tell Gino before he’d tell me. Besides, you didn’t want me on this case, remember?” The thought of grilling Timothy in his grieving state under the guise of being his friend didn’t sit well with me. “Or is it more expedient to have me involved now?”

  Before he would defend his actions, I said, “I’ve got to get back to the office.”

  Corrigan frowned. “Claire, I didn’t mean you’d have to lie to the guy or anything, and, you’re right. I don’t want you on this case. But getting more information from Timothy shouldn’t be dangerous. It’s not like you’re going after the killer yourself. If you found out anything important from Timothy, you could let me know. I wouldn’t even consider you doing that much, but we need a break on this case before the guy kills again.” He gripped my shoulders. “I’d rather take a bullet than have you hurt. I thought you knew that.”

  I relented on my Corrigan-as-heartless-cop stance. “Yeah, I do. If Timothy can tell me anything else, I’ll let you know.” I’m such a pushover for blue eyes, blond hair, and muscles. “Now I really do have to get to the office.”

  That was the truth and, God help me, I needed to confer with Gino. Maybe he had some ideas.

  When I arrived, Betty was gone, and Gino was staring at his computer screen. “Anything new, Gino?” I figured on giving him the Pittsburgh scoop after finding out if he’d learned anything more.

  “Nope. Say, did you ever talk to that music teacher? Something Billingham?”

  “Donald Billingham. The guy with the cape? Just for a second. Why?”

  “Did you know he had some priors? One count of assault. It was dismissed. But he was also convicted of stalking.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  He leaned back, fingers interlaced behind his head. “Take a look.”

  “How could I have missed that?”

  “A good PI knows to check and double check information.”

  I thought about pushing his chair over. “Of course.” I pulled my car keys out.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “To double check my information.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Arriving at Donald Billingham’s music store and studio, I tried the door. It was locked and a sign stating a lesson was in session stopped me. Only ninety minutes until bingo started at St. John’s Church hall. I didn’t have much time to wait. While I was debating whether or not to let Angie know I’d be late, a middle-aged woman exited the store.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  The well-dressed lady came to a halt. “Yes?”

  “Are you taking piano lessons from Mr. Billingham?”

  “Yes, I am.” She raised her chin. “Why?”

  Telling her I was a PI investigating the Red Bow killings wasn’t likely to get me the information I wanted. “I’m thinking of taking lessons too. I’ve heard he’s very temperamental.”

  Her laugh was a practiced tinkle. “Heavens, no. I’ve been coming to him for three years and he’s the sweetest, most patient man I know. We usually sit and gab after my lesson, but this afternoon he cut it short because he’s got business that couldn’t wait at St. John’s Church. He even joked about getting rid of the evidence there.”

  St. John’s? Evidence? Couldn’t be a coincidence. I moved ever so slightly towards her and lowered my voice. “You don’t happen to play bingo, do you?”

  She sniffed. “What does that have to do with anything? If you’ll excuse me.” She hurried away as if she was afraid whatever possessed me might overtake her too.

  I rushed to my car and got in just as Billingham was locking the door to his store. He got into his car, started the engine, and pulled into traffic. Keeping a distance between us, I followed him.

  Squirming in my seat, I told myself to take it slow, but the excitement was expanding in me like popcorn in a microwave. Controlling it was going to be difficult. Keeping my eye on Billingham, I speed-dialed Ed, hoping the jitters in my belly would simmer down.

  “Hey, kiddo. Whatcha need?”

  “Can you meet me at St. John’s Church in Lakewood, like now?”

  “No-can-do. I’m on my way to work. Switched shifts. Can it wait?”

  “No. Guess I’ll handle it myself.” The agitation in my voice must have alarmed him.

  “If this is about the serial killer, don’t go in yourself. Call Brian.”

  My brain was trying to piece together an alternate plan, and I wasn’t sure Corrigan figured into it yet. “I’ll see what develops first. Talk to you later.” Knowing I’d be doing this alone, my stomach sped past jittery. Nausea was next in line. Still, I kept on Billingham’s tail.

  He pulled into the almost-empty church parking lot and turned off his engine. Not wanting him to see me, I drove past the lot and turned down the alley on the next street. By the time I hoofed it back over, he’d disappeared. The church and its hall where the bingo game was to be held stood side-by-side.

  My first guess was that he’d gone into the hall. Pulling out my gun, I charged into the building. The only person there was a man setting up the bingo table. Back out I went and rushed through the front doors of the church. I quickly genuflected and made the Sign of the Cross.

  Hearing footsteps above me, I looked around for stairs. There were winding staircases on either side of the pews. I chose the one on the right. My heart was hammering and my mouth was dry as I climbed to the choir loft. Spotting Billingham but not wanting him to see me, I ducked behind a pillar. He was standing by a massive church organ, a red ribbon bunched in his hands. He was quietly speaking with a middle-aged woman in a conservative pantsuit.

  No doubt his next victim.

  Holding my gun in both hands to steady it, I took a deep breath. I spun away from the pillar and yelled, “Freeze.”

  The woman yelped and Billingham dropped the ribbon.

  “Okay, put your hands up, Billingham. I’m a private detective working with the Cleveland Police. Ma’am, are you all right?”

  The woman put her hands to her chest and was breathing hard. “Goodness, you gave me a start.”

  Billingham’s face turned as red as the ribbon he’d been holding. “What is the meaning of this? I’m here with Mrs. Olecki to inspect the new organ.”

  Ignoring his protests, I kept the gun on the musician, pulled out my phone and asked the woman to dial 911.

  She protested, “I’m fine, really. Just a little startled.”

  “No need to call anyone.” It was Corrigan’s voice, yelling from the aisle on the main floor. “I’m coming up.”

  At the top of the stairs, Corrigan took in the scene; me holding my gun on Billingham, whose arms were up. “What’s going on?”

  Billingham, Mrs. Olecki, and I all started talking at once. “Hold it!” Corrigan yelled. “Claire, you first.”

  My words spilled out. “This guy, who just happens to be a piano instructor, had a red ribbon in his hands and he lured this poor woman up here.”

  Billingham windshielded his arms. “Wait! What? You think I’m that Red Bow fellow? That’s absurd. I’m here to inspect this organ. Ask Father Edward. Mrs. Olecki, tell them.” He was practically foaming at the mouth. “Please! You have to believe me.”

  Mrs. Olecki’s hands fluttered. “He’s telling the truth. Father Edward asked Mr. Billingham to come and test it out. I let him in. The bow was wrapped around the organ when w
e arrived. You know, it was a donation from the Knights of Columbus.”

  Corrigan looked to heaven, probably asking God for patience. “Claire, put the gun down. Mrs. Olecki, please call Father Edward. Put him on speaker phone.”

  When the priest answered, he verified Mrs. Olecki’s story. Billingham was indeed checking the new organ. My face burned as Corrigan apologized to Billingham for the misunderstanding.

  Mrs. Olecki chirped. “Imagine if I had been confronted with the Red Bow Killer. Oh, my!”

  Billingham was less than gracious. “Detective, I’ll let this go. But,” he pointed at me. “Keep that mad woman away from me.”

  I wished the loft had a trapdoor I could drop from. Instead I had to remain under Corrigan’s wary watch until Billingham and Mrs. Olecki exited. The musician was still exclaiming how he’d been wronged.

  Corrigan glared at me, arms folded across his chest. “How do you do it, Claire?”

  “Do what?” I asked in a small voice.

  “Manage to mess things up and still keep on going.”

  “I’m sorry this didn’t work out, but what if he had been the killer?”

  “Then the police would have found out and arrested him. Without your so-called help.”

  My tongue wasn’t just loose, it was independent of my brain. Placing my hands on my hips, I sassed, “Yeah, you’re doing a great job on your own.”

  His eyes turned to slits and his jaw clenched. “Et tu, Claire?”

  I bit my lower lip, knowing I’d gone too far. “I mean, it’s a tough case, what with five murders…” Trying to fix it just made it worse.

  His voice was deadly calm. “My captain is chewing my ass off to get this killer and I’m running around following up on all these so-called leads, thanks to the media. But I took time out to make sure you were okay.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “If I didn’t love you…” A deep sigh. “I need to get back to my job, great or not.” He turned his back to me and headed toward the stairs.

  My face felt as if I had been standing too close to a fire. “Brian, wait! I’m sorry!” I was just about to run after him when he growled and I knew not to follow him.

  Anyway, my phone rang. It was Ed.

  “Hey, kiddo. Brian get there okay?”

  My eyebrows lowered. “You told him to come here?”

  “Yep. Now don’t get snippy. Figured if that guy was the Red Bow Killer you’d need some help.”

  Squeezing my phone so hard my knuckles turned white, I said, “I understand, but it didn’t work out so well. The man I followed here isn’t the killer.” Not wanting to go into detail I ended the call by saying, “Bingo game is starting. I don’t want to miss it.”

  Which was true, but it was the coward’s way of exiting my own comedy of errors.

  Angie was waiting for me in the church hall vestibule, holding two bingo cards and markers. “They’ve already started the first game, but we can still go in.”

  I was so distressed with my faux pas and Corrigan’s reaction I didn’t even pay attention to where Angie sat us. By the time the first winner read her numbers aloud, I stopped feeling as if I should prostrate myself in front of Corrigan and beg his forgiveness. I was here to do a job. Making up with Corrigan would have to wait. That is, if he was willing to make up.

  Angie and I sat next to each other watching others in the room while also attending to our bingo cards. This evening there were two men who could physically be the Red Bow Killer, meaning they were under the age of eighty and had no debilitating issues. While everyone else was occupied with their cards and the numbers called, I snapped pictures of the two.

  Angie leaned toward me and whispered, “What do we do now?” The woman next to her shushed her and the elderly man across from Angie threw a disapproving glance her way.

  I held up my index finger to indicate waiting until this game was over.

  The host picked a bingo tile and announced, “G-53. G as in Gary 53.”

  A fortyish woman let out a whoop and screamed she had bingo. While she and the host went over the numbers, I reviewed what we were looking for, not only a man physically capable of strangling a woman but who seemed unusually interested in any one of the players here. “In case we need them, we have pictures. Between games we can ask the deacon their names. We don’t talk to them directly. Okay?”

  Angie jutted her chin. “That’s it?”

  The next game was starting and I didn’t have a chance to elaborate. Of course, that was if there was anything to elaborate on. Speaking out loud about what I was doing actually sounded lame. Maybe I needed to rethink this.

  But not now. A white-haired man entered the room and slowly shuffled to an empty chair at a back table. I pressed my lips together hard, trying to remember where I’d seen him before. PI’s should have great recall for faces. Ignoring my bingo card, I tapped my forehead, as if that would loosen the memory. It didn’t.

  While I was involved in this exercise, Angie won the game and the frown she’d been wearing morphed into a grin. “This is the first game I’ve won. It must be because of you.”

  I chuckled, “Glad to be your good-luck charm.” But fear that Angie’s winning made her more of a target wiped away any trace of humor.

  Realizing it was time for me to head to Cannoli’s, I took one last look around the room. My eyes settled on the elderly man I’d noticed earlier and my head jerked back slightly as it hit me. His name was Jerry. He was the guy who had been friendly with Eileen at Smalley’s. Was the world that small or did his presence here have anything to do with the murders? Not that he looked like a killer. Too fragile and he moved so slowly the victim could run home and change clothes before he reached her.

  My aunt was surely waiting for me, but I couldn’t leave. Not yet. The next game had already started so without taking the time to provide her with details, I tilted my head toward Jerry’s table. “The old guy there?” Angie nodded. “Keep an eye on him. See if he’s with someone, or someone picks him up. Get his license plate number if you can. Don’t approach him, though.”

  “He’s your suspect?” Angie’s eyes widened.

  Our tablemates were beyond throwing us dirty looks and the guy across from me actually told me to shut up.

  Again, there was no time to explain my reasoning to Angie, so I merely nodded. I pushed back my chair to take my leave just as one of the women at our table yelled bingo. I sneaked out while her numbers were being reviewed. My plan was to first attend to Charlie and then make it on time to my second job.

  All the way to Cannoli’s, I second-guessed myself. Should I have stayed and watched Jerry myself? From there, my conscience imagined Angie beaten and bloody, victim of Jerry’s hidden viciousness and cunning. I brooded over it all and as soon as I pulled into Cannoli’s parking lot, I called Angie, praying she’d be able to answer her phone.

  “Claire? Did you forget something?” To my relief, Angie sounded unhurt.

  “No, I just…”

  “I’m fine and I even had a quick conversation with Jerry. The guy you told me to watch. His neighbor picked him up after only one game, so I had to act fast. Anyway, he said his nephew whom he lives with, usually does, but he was busy tonight.”

  Relieved she was okay, I nonetheless was frustrated, wondering what part of ‘don’t approach him’ she didn’t understand. Resigning myself to her actions, I asked, “Did you get any other information, like his last name? Or his nephew’s name?”

  “Jerry said his last name, but he talked so low, I had to ask him twice. It’s Malden. And I’ll talk to both of those other guys before the evening’s over.”

  “Well, that’s a start. Thanks, Angie.” As an afterthought, I added, “Don’t forget. Don’t leave the bingo hall until your son pulls in—”

  “I know, in front of the building. I’ll be fine, Claire. Better go, the next game is starting.”

  With the call ended, I walked into Cannoli’s, just in time to witness a disgruntled Aunt Lena, arms crossed, grippi
ng a large wooden rolling pin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Usually I greet my aunt with a quick kiss on the cheek. Judging by the look on her face, this time I decided to keep my distance. Drawing the conclusion she discovered my lying about skipping work at Cannoli’s, I didn’t want her to see my oh-so-guilty expression. “Hi, Aunt Lena.”

  When her response was a harrumph, I slipped an apron over my head as if it could protect me from her wrath. I searched for a way to explain the lies without getting punished for them.

  She harrumphed again and waved the rolling pin at me. “I know what you’ve been doing and it stops right now. You hear me?”

  I could have dropped to my knees and confessed all. Instead I took the coward’s way and inquired angelically, “What are you talking about?” I tried, but failed to make eye contact.

  She lowered the pin to her side. “You know very well. You’ve been telling people I’m a nervous wreck and you’ve had to pick up the slack, frosting cupcakes for me even.” Her chin trembled.

  Relieved this wasn’t about me lying and missing work, I was obviously still to blame. “What?” Then I recalled using that as an excuse to Gino. Who had he told? “Aunt Lena, I’m so sorry! I needed an excuse as to why I wasn’t in the office. I never imagined Gino would say anything…” My voice trailed off.

  She sniffed, a sure sign I wasn’t forgiven. “Well, that blabbermouth told somebody, who told somebody else. Anyway, this morning Gloria Valducci, that barracuda you did catering work for, offered to buy me out. Said she understood the business could be too hard for a woman my age. My age? Gloria’s six months older than me!”

  Casting my eyes downward in penitence I asked, “How can I make it up to you?”

  “Stop telling that idiot boss of yours anything about me. Even true stuff.” She shook her head. “What kind of private detective can’t keep his mouth shut? Maybe you should quit and work full time here. I could use your help.”

  I stifled a groan. Same conversation, different day. I put my arm around her shoulder. “You know I love you and working here is great, but—”