Killer Cannoli (A Terrified Detective Mystery Book 2)

by Carole Fowkes

  I almost grabbed Corrigan. “Did you question him? Does he have my aunt?”

  “We don’t know anything more. Seems the suspect has gone missing.”

  The one bite of burger I’d taken threatened to come back up. “What do you mean, missing?”

  “Just that.” His phone rang again. When he answered it, his forehead lowered and his face turned red. “I need the damn thing now.” He paused and said, “Sorry.” Another pause and a smile. “Yeah, that’s great. Thanks. I owe you.”

  “The warrant?”

  “I’ll have it within two hours.”

  But that wasn’t soon enough. A nagging feeling told me to get back to the locker and sports place now. “Thanks for the burger. Now will you take me to my car? I want to wait outside the locker rental building until you get back with the warrant.”

  “Claire, no. Why would you want to do that?”

  “I just have to. That policeman is there so I’ll be safe. I even promise not to go inside without you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Like you promised not to go into your apartment? Or to let Alex inside Cannoli’s?”

  “This is different. I won’t do anything foolish. Santore scares the pantaloons off me. I just need to be there, even if it’s outside.” When I saw him weakening, I added, “We’ll practically pass my car on the way to the police station.”

  He shook his head. “Okay. But if you go inside that sports center before I’m there, I’ll arrest you for obstruction. Clear?”

  “Very.”

  We reached my car and split up. On my way to the Westshore Locker and Sports Center I checked the time and my heart felt heavy enough to sink to my ankles. I’d lost another ninety minutes.

  I pulled up and parked across the street, feeling antsy. The urge to go inside was strong but I wanted to keep my promise to Corrigan. It was the least I could do after all his help and support.

  I left the key dangling from the ignition and pushed back my driver’s seat to get more comfortable. It didn’t take long for my eyelids to droop, but when the weight of the ring pulled the ignition key out and the whole lot of them jangled to the floor, my eyes popped open. I picked the ring up. That’s when I noticed. One of the keys was small, like a locker key. I looked at the number on it. Maybe it opened Joey’s locker.

  But how would the key have gotten on Aunt Lena’s ring? Didn’t matter. I’d noticed a separate entrance to the locker area when I’d been there with Corrigan. I could sneak in and the clerk wouldn’t even see me.

  I fidgeted in my seat, debating if I should wait for Corrigan.

  But it might be another hour and a half before he gets here. In that time I could sneak in, try the key and get back to my car without him being any wiser. Besides, that cop is inside in case there is trouble, which there won’t be. And if I got the locker open, who’d care that I broke this promise?

  But no. I was determined to keep my word. That is until I spied Santore and Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum pull up and park in front of the building. I made up my mind when they went into the locker and sport center. I had to go inside. To soothe my conscience, I texted my intentions to Corrigan.

  I sneaked around to the locker room entrance and opened the door. Although I told myself there wasn’t any danger involved with this since the cop was on the premises, my hands were clammy.

  Once inside, my hopes were lost in the multitude of lockers. They numbered from 1001 to 2001. The engraved number on the key was 40236. My heart sank. This key wouldn’t fit any of these locks.

  Feeling defeated, I turned to make a quick exit when I heard yelling coming from the sports center office. Their words were muffled, but I recognized one of the voices right away. I wiped a drop of sweat from my forehead, but otherwise stood like I’d been frozen in place.

  Someone grunted in pain. Then a noise like something heavy hitting the floor made what was going on very clear. Stunned, I told myself to hightail it out of there, but my legs wouldn’t listen and I remained glued to the spot. By the time my limbs obeyed it was too late. Santore and his two thugs burst into the room. Freddie was rubbing his knuckles.

  Santore let loose with a short, nasty laugh. “Look who’s here.” He made a show of checking out the rest of the small room. “Your pal, Corrigan, desert you?”

  I had visions of them shoving me into one of the lockers with a bullet between my eyes, but nonetheless spoke out. “He’s on his way with a warrant. He’ll be here in a minute.”

  “Yeah, whatever you say.” Santore’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t matter, though. By the time he gets here, I’ll have Joey’s locker emptied.” He twirled a key around. “The desk clerk forked it over and was kind enough to tell us the locker number.”

  “Wait! Where’s that policeman?”

  Freddie and Marco looked at each other and snickered. Santore glanced over at them and they stopped. “Let’s just say he’s been detained in the can.” He touched my cheek lightly. “But he’ll be okay. Just his pride’ll be hurt.” He chuckled and his monkeys joined in. “No more talking. Let’s get the locker open.”

  “You can’t take Joey’s belongings.” My fists clenched like I was ready to pummel Santore. Freddie flexed his muscles and Marco took a step toward me. Scared, I spread my fingers out and dropped my key ring. It bounced off the floor and skidded under the counter. I went to retrieve it, but Freddie blocked me.

  “Let her get it.” Santore must have felt generous. “Won’t do her any good.”

  I reached down for the keys and heard a familiar, welcome voice. “Santore, what are you and your friends doing here?” It was Corrigan and I was never happier to see him. But the look on his face didn’t reflect my joy.

  Santore pulled out a cigar, even though there were No Smoking signs on two of the walls. “I could ask you the same question, Detective. My boys and me just happened by and thought maybe we should get one of these lockers, you know, to keep our bowling balls in.” He smirked.

  Just then the door opened and a short, thin middle-aged guy and a young, well-built man strolled in together, each holding a key.

  Santore nodded toward Freddie who then barked at them, “Get lost.”

  The thin, middle-aged man’s eyes widened and he halted, but the other guy kept walking. Freddie, probably not used to being ignored, snarled at them. “You both deaf? I told you to take a hike.”

  The older man grabbed his companion’s forearm. “Let’s go, Tom.”

  Tom shrugged it off, his eyes challenging Freddie. “Who the hell are you to order us around?”

  Fast as a gazelle and, to my surprise, as graceful, Freddie grabbed the older guy by the collar and raised his other fist up to the man’s face. He addressed the younger one. “I’m the guy telling you to leave now or your friend’s nose’ll be on the other side of his face.”

  Corrigan sprang into action and stepped between Freddie and the strangers. He growled, “You sure you want to commit assault? I’m fine if you do. Gives me an excuse to arrest you.”

  Freddie released the guy and shoved him toward a row of lockers.

  Corrigan pulled out his badge. “Now that tempers are under control, gentlemen, this is police business. I’m asking you to leave.”

  The younger one shifted his weight. “We’re out of here.”

  Just as the door slammed behind them, I spun around to see the origin of a clanging noise. I shrieked, “No!”

  During the ruckus, Marco, most likely on Santore’s orders, made his way over to Joey’s locker. His key fit and he’d just turned the locker handle to open it.

  Corrigan spotted what was happening and knocked Santore away from the locker. “Whatever’s in there is evidence in Joey Corozza’s murder.”

  Santore’s lip curled in fury and his eyes became slits of rage. “You oughta not done that.” He straightened his shirt and blew out a breath. “But I’ll let it go this once.” If snakes could smile, it’d look like Santore. “But unless I see a warrant, you got no claim on an
ything.”

  Corrigan gritted his teeth. “I had to come back before I got the warrant.” He shot me a look that cursed the day I got my PI license. “Neither do you. Get away from the locker or I’ll arrest you for tampering with evidence.”

  Santore kept his vicious and cold smile intact like he’d just as soon shoot Corrigan and me than let the police have Joey’s things. I dove for the locker and for a brief moment felt like Aladdin gaining entrance to the magic cave, only to be stopped by Freddie’s quick reflexes.

  My attempt failed, but it didn’t matter. It was bare. Joey’s locker was bare. I felt like a balloon with a pinhole in it. All deflated.

  Corrigan stepped in and ran his hand over and under all the surfaces in the locker. But it was as empty as Santore’s heart.

  Santore grunted. “Hey, this just means we don’t have to, you know, discuss who gets Joey’s crap.” He motioned to Marco and Freddie. “Come on, boys, let’s take a ride.”

  Corrigan stopped him and said something, but I was so devastated, I couldn’t listen. All that mattered was I’d run out of clues and soon I’d run out of time. I wandered out of the place like a survivor from a bombed-out building. I think Corrigan asked me where I was going, but I didn’t answer.

  I barely made it into my car when the full force of my predicament slammed into me. I may not be able to save my aunt. I crumpled in my seat. A moan from deep inside me welled up, followed by a howl so harsh it scraped my throat raw. I pounded on the steering wheel until my palms hurt.

  After a few minutes, my anger spent, I drew myself up. My palms stung, but that was nothing compared to the anguish I’d feel if I couldn’t save Aunt Lena.

  I dreaded doing it, but I checked the time. I swallowed the rising panic and called the one person I could lean on.

  As soon as my father’s phone rang, I came to my senses. How could I cry to him when I’d hoped to spare him from this horrific nightmare? It was too late, though. He picked up.

  “Have you found Lena?” His voice was so expectant, another piece of my shattered heart chipped off.

  “No, not yet, but we have more leads. It’s just a matter of time. Anyway, I just wanted to touch base with you.”

  “But how do we know she’s safe? That they haven’t hurt her?”

  We didn’t, but if I let my mind go there, I couldn’t function. “It’ll be fine, Dad. I wanted to tell you I love you.”

  “Same here, but twice as much. Bye.”

  I held the phone against my breast and whimpered. Will he love me as much if Aunt Lena dies because of my ineptitude? I closed my mind to that. If I allowed that thought in I’d be of no use. That’s when I formed a plan. If I had the nerve to carry it out.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I was deep in thought when Corrigan rapped on my car window. When I looked up, he motioned for me to roll it down.

  “Are you okay, Claire?” He’d been asking me that a lot and I always said yes, posturing as a brave female PI. When this was all over, I’d assess the toll it had taken. But for now, I put forth my best effort to keep the charade up.

  “I can handle it. What happened with Santore? Couldn’t you arrest him? Didn’t he do something to that policeman?”

  “Had to cut Santore loose. Didn’t have the warrant yet and the clerk gave him the key. Of course, that was after one of Santore’s goons persuaded him with his fist. But the guy refuses to press charges. Says he ‘fell,’ so that went nowhere.”

  Corrigan punched the palm of his hand with the other, probably wishing the receiving hand was Santore’s face. “And that rookie they sent.” He frowned. “I had to go let him out of the john. He says someone knocked him down and locked him in.” He shook his head. “Claims he didn’t see who did it.” He paused. “Oh, and more bad news. The calls you got were from a disposable phone. One was found in a dumpster behind a McDonald’s.”

  I had guessed as much, but it was like another pin stuck into me and I cried out. How quickly my plan to stay strong caved in. I clamped my hands over my mouth, but it was too late.

  Corrigan yanked the car door open, twisting and bending over, to embrace me. The warmth of his body comforted me like a stuffed animal does a baby and I wanted to bask in it forever. But I had my aunt to save and finally pulled away. “Thanks, Brian. To quote a cliché, I needed that.”

  He gave me a half-smile. “My pleasure. Sorry it took me so long to do it.”

  Reality struck or rang back in. It was my phone and Alex was on the other end. “Hello?”

  “Claire, hi. I finally got hold of my Aunt Carmela. She says my uncle was close to Valcone and it broke his heart when someone killed him.” His voice full of disgust, he added, “I suppose that means someone else will die so my uncle can avenge Valcone’s murder. Anyway, I asked her about Santore and she says my uncle calls him figlio di putana so there’s bad blood there. But she doesn’t know if he’s seen Santore or talked to him since Joey died.”

  “Thanks. Appreciate it. Really.” On one hand, I believed him, but the more skeptical part of me whispered silently, “He’s only giving you bits and pieces to keep your trust. Stay on your guard.” I continued, “If you hear anything else, let me know. Please.”

  “I will and if my uncle is behind this kidnapping, I swear I’ll do whatever I can to help you get your aunt back and put him away.”

  “Thanks, Alex.”

  Corrigan scowled. “What did he want?

  “Just to tell me that his uncle, Bucanetti, doesn’t like Santore. Calls him a… well, it translates to ‘son of a prostitute’ and said he was real broken up about Valcone dying. Nothing about my aunt, though.”

  “Claire, I hope you weren’t counting on that guy’s help anyway. He may call himself Carpenter, but his veins pump Bucanetti blood.”

  I drummed on my steering wheel. I didn’t have time for discussions about blood. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t about to fill Corrigan in on my most recently hatched scheme. He’d probably try to talk me out of it.

  Luckily, his phone rang. “Corrigan here. Yeah, okay. I’ll be right there.” He hung up. “A neighbor of your aunt’s called the police. Says that about the time your aunt was taken, she saw a man trying to get into your aunt’s house. Claims to have gotten a pretty good look at the guy. I’m going in to question her myself.”

  I patted my fluttery stomach. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but I found it hard not to feel some excitement. Then a spark of doubt. “Didn’t they canvas the area right after Aunt Lena disappeared? Why did this neighbor wait so long to report it?”

  He shrugged. “Says she was scared the guy would come back and hurt her. But her daughter finally talked her into coming forward, for which I’m grateful. I’ll have her go through the mug shots. Do you want to come with me?”

  Only five hours left. I couldn’t take the chance on the neighbor. Instead I’d hedge my bets and execute my plan. But how great would it be if I didn’t need it?

  I watched Corrigan drive off then started toward my destination. The store wasn’t far, but all the way there I checked to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I even drove down a few side streets and made a sudden U-turn.

  I parked and scanned the lot for a few minutes before dashing into the massive office supply store. I picked up a pack of two flash drives and paid cash for them, all the while looking over my shoulder. Shoving them into my purse, I exited through the main door, my nerves tight enough to snap.

  It wouldn’t be pretty if the kidnapper suspected I used a ringer for Joey’s flash drive. Unless the real thing miraculously appeared on its own, I had no hope of locating that flash drive in time to save Aunt Lena.

  Now I just had to wait for the kidnapper’s call. I didn’t know if it would come through on my phone or Cannoli’s, but it would come soon. I drove back to the bakery to wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I paced back and forth, looked out the dining room window and saw nothing. I continued waiting. With a little over four hours
until the deadline, I got antsy and ideas, all bad, boomeranged in my brain. I finally gave up and acknowledged that my hopes rested on the flimsy fake flash drive plan working.

  Although I’d returned to my aunt’s bakery knowing the kidnapper would call, I still shuddered when Cannoli’s phone rang. The monster knew I was there and a shiver ran down to my toes thinking that the kidnapper most likely had his eye on this place or on me.

  But the call was from someone wanting to know when Cannoli’s would open again. I hesitated, then, every molecule in me hoping it’d be right, I replied, “We’ll reopen in one or two days.” Please, God, let it be true.

  I hung up, feeling a little better, as if saying it made it true. I basked in that hint of sunshine for a moment, until my cell phone rang. That same sandpaper voice. It was the kidnapper.

  “Hello, Claire.”

  I grabbed a chair and lowered myself into it and struggled to form words. “Where do I pick my aunt up?”

  “Do you have want I want?”

  Sweat broke out on my forehead. I had to make it sound legit. “Yes, yes I do.”

  “You have to try harder, Claire.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “Your aunt wants to come home, but you’ve just lied. I have to punish you for that. You got until 7:00. I’ll contact you at 6:00.”

  “You can’t! I didn’t lie. Please.” He was gone and I curled up on the chair, afraid to move. I’d lost more time and maybe made the kidnapper mad. Will he hit Aunt Lena? Will she cry out for my help or curse me for letting this happen to her? My chest hurt and I felt lightheaded. I sat in that position for a few minutes until the chest pain passed.

  I called Corrigan and gave him the details of the kidnapper’s call. I was amazed how in the retelling, I remained calm and almost detached.

  “Doubt it’ll turn up anything, but we’ll trace it and get a tap on it. In the meantime, hang tight. Are you alone?”