A Stitch to Die For (An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Book 5)
Page 18
“Where are the boys?” asked Mama, noticing only five place settings.
“They have dinner plans,” I said.
She raised one of her perfectly waxed eyebrows. “On a school night?”
“It’s a student government planning session,” I lied, not looking directly at her or anyone else at the table.
I kept my head down and remained silent for most of the meal. Of course, Mama noticed. “That must have been some fight the two you had.”
Ralph spread his wings and squawked. “Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight with hearts more proof than shields. Coriolanus. Act One, Scene Four.”
“We weren’t fighting,” I said.
“Certainly sounded like a fight to me,” said Mama.
Zack placed his hand under the table and squeezed my thigh. “Anastasia is tired, Flora. She had a rough day at work and arrived home to find unexpected dinner company.”
“We’re hardly company,” said Mama. “We’re family.”
I opened my mouth to say something but thought better of it. Why stoke the fire? All I wanted was dinner to end and my company to leave. The sooner the better. At least Mama hadn’t invited Ira and his brood to join us this evening.
However, Lucille exercised no such discretion. “That doesn’t give you the right to waltz in here whenever you want,” she said.
“No one asked for your commie two cents,” said Mama.
“I don’t need your permission,” said Lucille. “I live here.”
Before Mama could respond, the doorbell rang. “Saved by the bell,” I muttered, pushing back from the table.
Zack placed his hand on my shoulder. “Finish your dinner. I’ll get it.”
A moment later he returned with Detective Spader and two uniformed officers.
“Oh my!” said Mama. “Are we being sweated again?”
“Swatted,” said Lawrence. He eyed me, his expression malevolent. “And I don’t believe so. Isn’t that right, Anastasia?”
“I have no idea—”
“Oh, I think you do.” Lawrence yanked Mama out of her chair, whipped a gun from his waistband, and pointed it at her head.
NINETEEN
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Lawrence in a calm voice completely incongruous with the situation. “My wife and I are going to walk out of here. Anyone tries to stop us and I splatter her brains all over the dining room.”
“Lawrence!” Mama screamed as she tried to twist out of his grasp. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? You’re hurting me. Let me go!”
He twisted her arm nearly to the breaking point and pressed the gun into her temple. “Keep your mouth shut, Flora.”
The color drained from Mama’s face. Her chin trembled; she began to hyperventilate. I feared she might pass out in his arms.
Lawrence waved the gun at the three policemen and Zack. “Down on the floor. All of you. Faces down. Hands behind your heads.”
“Do as he says,” said Spader, lowering himself to the carpet.
Once they were all prone, Lawrence pointed the gun at me. “Remove their weapons. Try anything stupid and your mother dies.”
“You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away with this,” I said as I stepped toward Spader. I pulled the service weapon from his shoulder holster, not an easy task given his bulk, his position on the floor, and the fact that he didn’t seem inclined to make my task any easier by shifting his weight. However, under the circumstances, I could hardly blame him.
Lawrence chuckled. “Of course, I will. You think I haven’t done this before?”
“Why don’t you put the gun down and tell me all about it?”
“Why don’t you shut up and do as you’re told?”
For the briefest of seconds I thought about aiming Spader’s gun at him, but I’d never fired a gun before, and I seriously doubted Lawrence was bluffing about killing Mama. My hand trembled as I held the gun out to him.
“Place it in the center of the table,” he said.
I did as I was told and moved on to the first uniformed officer.
Now would be a fabulous time for Zack to prove me right about working for one of those alphabet agencies—especially if he happened to have Mr. Sauer hidden somewhere on him. Lawrence would never suspect Zack might be armed, and unlike me, I bet Zack had quite a bit of gun experience.
If ever I needed a James Bond sort of guy in my life, this was the time. I made quick eye contact with Zack, but unfortunately his expression gave no indication of what might be spinning around in his head.
Once I’d removed all three guns and placed them on the dining room table, Lawrence said, “Now get down on the floor with the others and place your hands behind your head. You, too,” he said, pointing the gun at Lucille.
“Absolutely not.”
Lawrence dragged Mama closer to Lucille and stuck the gun in my motherin-law’s face. “Now or you’re the first to die. And you have no idea how much pleasure killing you would give me.”
“Do as he says, Lucille. Please, before someone gets hurt.”
She turned to glare at me. “This is all your fault, Anastasia.” Then with a huge grunt she slowly leveraged herself up from the table. She grabbed her cane and hobbled a step toward an empty spot on the floor, but before Lawrence realized what she was doing, she pivoted, slipped her cane between his legs, and yanked with both hands, sending him and Mama sprawling to the floor.
Ralph flapped his wings and squawked wildly as the gun flew from Lawrence’s hand, arcing into the air before landing inches from my head and discharging. The bullet ricocheted off my chandelier, raining glass shards, before hitting Lawrence in the foot.
Over the ringing in my ears I heard Lawrence let loose with a string of curses as he lunged for the gun. I beat him to it, sweeping my arm across the carpet to send the gun skidding under the base of the dining room table. Zack bounded off the floor and tackled Lawrence while Spader pushed himself to his feet and the two officers raced for their guns. A moment later three weapons were pointed at Lawrence’s head.
Mephisto toddled into the dining room. After scoping out the situation, he planted himself alongside Lawrence’s face, bared his teeth, and let loose a menacing growl.
I helped my mother off the floor, then turned to my soon-to-be-ex stepfather. “You may have done this before, but you won’t be doing it again.”
“I’ll see you pay for this,” he said as the uniformed officers yanked him up on his one good foot and cuffed him.
“She had nothing to do with this,” said Spader.
“She had everything to do with it,” said Lawrence. “I know a rat when I smell one.”
Spader shook his head. “Think again. Salvatore Capperato, you’re under arrest for orchestrating the murders of Cynthia Tuttnauer Pollack—AKA Cynthia Capperato—, Pablo Perez, Betty Bentworth, and Carmen Cordova. You have the right to remain silent—”
Mama spun around to face Spader. “Salvatore Capperato? There’s no one here by that name. You’re making a terrible mistake.”
“I’m afraid you’ve been duped,” said Spader.
“I know the man I married,” said Mama, “and it’s definitely not someone named Salvatore Capperato.”
My jaw dropped as Spader ignored Mama and continued to inform Lawrence—Salvatore—of his rights. The man killed his own daughter? And Pablo, Betty, and Carmen? Obviously, my wild theory about one killer imitating TV and movie murders had proven correct. But why? What possible connection could the man we all knew as Lawrence Tuttnauer have to Betty Bentworth and Carmen Cordova?
“Lawrence,” pleaded Mama, “tell them they’re wrong. Please!”
He ignored her. For a brief moment a look of stunned surprise had overcome him. He quickly recovered and said, “You can’t pin any of that on me. You have no proof.”
“We have all the proof we need—a confession from “Jelly Bean” Benini, the man you hired to do your dirty work.”
Relief swept o
ver Lawrence, and he laughed. “You plan to put a dead man on the witness stand? Good luck with that.”
Spader smiled. “Benini is very much alive. We staged his death after he sang like a canary when we offered him a deal.”
I don’t know who appeared more dumbfounded, Lawrence or me. I glanced over at Zack. “Need-to-know,” he mouthed.
I scowled at him. What I needed to know right now was how to get Zack, who apparently now had quite the intimate professional relationship with Detective Spader, to sing like a canary to me.
Spader called for two ambulances, one for Lawrence and one for Mama, insisting she get checked out at the hospital. If nothing else, Mama needed a strong sedative. I’d never seen her this confused and distraught. Zack and I followed the ambulance. “Details,” I demanded as we pulled out of the driveway. “Now.”
“I don’t have many.”
“But you knew Benini was alive?”
He nodded. “The forensics report came back on Carmen. They found a small trace of Benini’s DNA on her and picked him up.”
“And he fingered Lawrence/Salvatore?”
“For a laundry list of criminal activities. Between the indictments coming down from the county, the state, and the Feds, Salvatore Capperato—AKA Lawrence Tuttnauer and a dozen other alias—will spend the remainder of his life behind bars.”
*
Mama’s blood pressure concerned the doctors enough to keep her overnight for observation. I considered that a blessing.
Spader met us at the hospital after booking Salvatore at headquarters. He ushered us down the hall to an empty family lounge and indicated we should take seats at a small round table located in the center of the room. “How much have you told her?” he asked Zack.
The question made me bristle. “I’m right here, Detective. How about you start from the beginning and tell me everything yourself?”
Spader made eye contact with Zack. Zack nodded. “She deserves to know.”
“Damn right, I deserve to know,” I said, “considering I cracked this case wide open for you, Detective.”
“Actually, Benini did that with his DNA match,” he said.
“What about the bank statements, passports, and diamonds I found?”
“The state Organized Crime Task Force has you to thank for that,” he conceded. “They’ll be filing additional charges against Capperato. As will the Feds.”
He stood and walked over to a coffee station in the corner of the room, popped in a pod, and waited for the cardboard cup to fill. “Anyone else?” he asked.
Both Zack and I declined. I was already too wired. A cup of coffee at this hour would keep me awake all night, not something I wanted after last night’s insomnia.
Coffee in hand, Spader returned to the table. “I wasn’t quite honest with you a minute ago, Mrs. Pollack. You do deserve some credit. I doubt Benini would have copped to the Hunterdon County murders if not for you mentioning them to me.”
“Why did Capperato want Cynthia dead?” I asked.
“She became a liability. Perez was collateral damage. Capperato had no way of knowing what Cynthia may have told him. According to Benini, Capperato’s daughter tried to blackmail him. He needed to shut her up.”
“Blackmail him over what?”
“Part of the story he told you about Nevada had some grains of truth to it. His first wife did die but not from an overdose. He killed her. Cynthia somehow discovered the truth. That’s probably why she started using drugs.”
“He didn’t testify against a drug kingpin?”
“There was no drug kingpin. Benini claims Capperato caught his wife cheating on him. He killed the guy, too. Not in Carson City, though. They lived in Houston. The bodies were never found. Capperato told everyone his wife ran off with her lover. No one suspected foul play. After a reasonable period of time, he resigned his position at the brokerage firm where he worked and moved east, explaining to his friends and coworkers that Houston held too many bad memories for him and his daughter.”
“Cynthia found out her father killed her mother?”
“That’s what we suspect. Benini wasn’t clear on exactly what Cynthia knew that set Capperato off. He never told Benini, just said she was blackmailing him and needed to be shut up. Permanently. For the right price Benini didn’t ask questions.”
“Is Benini even really his cousin?”
“That part of his story is true. He reached out to Benini and offered to launder mob money in exchange for the new identities.”
“But how does all this connect to Carmen and Betty? Why did Capperato want them dead?”
Spader and Zack exchanged another look that sent fear skittering up and down my spine. Zack reached out and took hold of my hand. “You’re not going to like this part,” he said.
“I’m not liking any part of this. Tell me.”
Spader heaved a deep sigh. “Because your mother kept bragging about your ability to solve murders, Capperato didn’t want you sticking your nose into Cynthia’s death. The Hunterdon County medical examiner had ruled the death an accidental drug overdose, and that’s the way he wanted it left.”
“Oh my god!” My hands flew to my mouth; my eyes welled up with tears that quickly cascaded down my cheeks. “I’m responsible for Carmen’s and Betty’s deaths?”
Spader sucked air through his gritted teeth. “Technically, your mother is responsible for Capperato’s actions, but he wanted to make sure you were too busy snooping around murders in your own neighborhood to get involved investigating Cynthia’s death. He paid Benini to knock off a couple of your neighbors and make it look like more than one killer had targeted the neighborhood.
“Benini’s a film buff. He decided he’d have some fun by reenacting scenes from some of his favorite movies and TV shows. He also planted the knife in your yard and phoned in the hostage incident that led to the swatting.”
I turned to face Zack. “I caused their deaths. How can I live with myself?”
“Benini killed them,” he said. “On Lawrence’s orders.”
“But if not for me, they’d both still be alive.”
Spader cleared his throat. “Not for long.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Benini researched the people on your street. He chose Bentworth and Cordova because both were already dying.
“Dying? They both looked perfectly healthy to me.”
“Bentworth had advanced stage pancreatic cancer and had refused treatment. Mrs. Cordova had an inoperable brain tumor. She had less than a month to live. She and her family were aware of the situation.”
“Great. A killer with a conscience. Is that supposed to make me feel better? Carmen suffered a horrible death.”
“No, she didn’t,” said Spader. “All her stab wounds were postmortem. The medical examiner discovered a bullet to the back of her head. Benini stripped off her clothes, then placed her in the shower and stabbed her repeatedly. Like Bentworth, she never knew what hit her and died instantly.”
I shook my head. “Small consolation, Detective. I still robbed her of what little time she had left with her family. And all because Mama bragged about me? How evil can one man be?”
“I’ve seen far worse,” said Spader.
“Again, not helping, Detective.” I turned to Zack. “Mama can never learn about this. It would kill her.”
“Agreed.”
*
I took off work the next day. Zack accompanied me to the hospital to pick up Mama and bring her home. That was the easy part. We still had to tell her about her husband—everything except the part she played in the deaths of my neighbors.
We found her sitting on a chair in front of the window in her hospital room. “I can’t imagine what got into Lawrence last night,” she said. “I suppose it was the shock of being mistaken for a killer, but I’m going to insist he get a complete medical check-up. He may be developing dementia or have a brain tumor. There are no other logical explanations for his behavior.
“He’s in jail, Mama.” I proceeded to tell her what we’d learned about her husband.
“Impossible,” she said. “Lawrence is a lover, not a killer. I don’t believe it. There has to be some mistake. Someone is framing him.”
“Believe it, Mama. You can thank Lucille for saving your life. If she hadn’t deliberately tripped him with her cane, you might have become his next victim.” I have no doubt Salvatore Capperato would have gotten rid of Mama as soon as she was no longer of use to him in his getaway plan.
The thought of being indebted to Lucille caused Mama physical pain. Her face contorted. “That pinko pig—”
“Saved your life,” repeated Zack, a bit more forcefully than I had.
Mama scowled. “Well, I suppose even she’s capable of a good deed now and then.”
“The man you knew as Lawrence will spend the rest of his life behind bars. What will you do, Mama?”
“Well, I’m certainly not staying married to a killer! I suppose I’ll have to divorce him.” Mama had never filed for divorce. All her husbands died on her. The expression on her face told me she didn’t relish the idea. “Do you think I have grounds for an annulment?”
“We’ll look into it,” I said, adding, “I’m sorry this marriage didn’t work out for you, Mama. You seemed so happy.” At least at first but I’d noticed telltale signs of unrest from the moment she and her latest husband had returned from their honeymoon.
“I am, too, dear.” Mama sighed. “At least this husband didn’t die on me. Perhaps the curse is broken, and I’ll find my happily ever after with the next man who enters my life.”
In the back of my mind I heard Ralph squawking, “There stays a husband to make you a wife. Romeo and Juliet. Act Two, Scene Five.”
Anastasia’s Knit and Crochet
Baby Blankets
Knit Blankets
Abbreviations:
K=knit
P=pearl
st(s)=stitch(es)
Garter Stitch Bordered Knit Blanket