Cooking the Books: A Sloane Templeton Novel (2012)

by Bonnie S. Calhoun

  "Sloane!" He bellowed. He must be on the fourth floor. "Come out, Sloane. Make it easy on yourself." The echo told me he was looking in the bathroom.

  Sure, any time now I'm just going to stop ruining your day and let you kill me. The anger that had built mimicked a second wind, almost an adrenaline rush for survival.

  "You should have sold me the building, Sloane. If you had, the others would have too, and this deal would have been done!"

  The makeup mirror in my walk-in closet smashed to the floor. He was getting closer.

  "Come out, Sloane, wherever you are," he singsonged.

  That in itself unnerved me, that he could be so cool and calculated while seeking me out to kill me, like it was a game.

  That taunt came from the doorway.

  "I could have gotten my money and returned to Greece where women know their place and obey their men." He was coming up this aisle.

  He banged on boxes as he moved closer to my hiding place.

  Please, God, hide me. Please, God. And then it happened. His hand slapped on my box. His footsteps stopped. I froze. My grip tightened on the keys and I held my breath, ready to swing out at any second. Please, please, please.

  Now that I had sucked in air, I couldn't let it out with him standing there. My head started to get dizzy. My lungs burned and felt like they were going to burst.

  He moved on. I slowly let out the air. The pounding in my head intensified. Thank you, Father.

  If I could somehow tell when he was on the other aisle, I might be able to sneak out. How would I know though? I needed him to talk some more. Lord, I know I've asked for a lot, but is that too much to ask for?

  "I even tried to make it a beautiful ending for you. A limo and a picnic. I wasted a whole dose on a dessert that you never ate." He had tried to poison me with Red Velvet cake. I would never look at it the same way again. A loud thud. He punched another box.

  But I knew where he was. Now was my chance. I pulled up on the flap so that it wouldn't scrape the floor, and quietly poured myself out of the box. I tiptoed on bare feet down the aisle and out the door, throwing the hasp across the lock hanger. But there was no lock—never had been.

  I scrambled down the stairs. As soon as my feet hit the stairs, he slammed against the closed door. Two hits and the doorjamb splintered. I ran for the rear door. He had already hit the stairs.

  Keys! Finding the right one in full light was hard enough. I strained to identify them in a shaft of light coming in off the street into the back window.

  He hit the bottom step.

  I dropped the keys and wrenched open the silverware drawer, grabbing up my gun.

  He snatched me by the back of my shirt.

  I spun around with the gun raised.

  He backed up. "You've actually got some fire in you."

  I lowered my voice. "I can't believe I loved you."

  "I can't believe I stood for your incessant whining all this time."

  I wanted to pull the trigger so bad. But something held me back. "You're slime. Even Trey is better than you are." Did that just come out of my mouth?

  "True. That degenerate actually liked your fat body, and how you were always stuffing that lousy cake in your face, and wearing all those baggy misshapen clothes."

  My lip quivered.

  "And while we're at it, you'd never make it in the computer field. That Asian guy knows a lot more than you do."

  I didn't know what to say. It was like he had punched me in the gut.

  He nodded, head cocked to the side and looking down, as though contrite. "Yeah. You're probably right about the Trey thing." He blew out a heavy sigh, the kind people give when resignation hits. "You know what else? Trey is a lot deader than I am too." He moved a step forward, his chagrined affect dropped off so fast that I could feel a bit of a breeze. Now he looked flirty, boyish, and charming, with that little smile he used when he wanted to snuggle. "I bet . . ." He cast a coy glance at the ceiling then back at me. "That you . . ." He stepped closer and rolled his bottom lip against his teeth. "Can't. Shoot. Me."

  I gulped and backed away. I hadn't realized how close he'd come. Both my hands wrapped around the grip of my gun. My hands started to tremble. "You sure don't want to find out." I backed up a step.

  His mouth curled into an ugly sneer. "Let's see what you've got."

  I backed up another step and hit into the door. There was no place else to go.

  "You've run out of room." He stepped forward again.

  Now he was about four feet from me. My heart was pushing on my chest, creating a rhythm in the movement of my arms.

  "Don't come any closer, or so help me, Andreas, I will shoot you."

  "I bet you won't."

  A shot rang out.

  Andreas spun to the right and dropped to the floor almost at my feet, grabbing at his left shoulder.

  "Well, if she won't shoot you, I sure will," said Fifi .

  Fifi , Greta, and Angelica tromped through the living room mess and into the dining room with their guns drawn.

  Fifi stepped over his fallen form. She looked at him for a second then looked up at me. "Your ma never liked him anyway."

  I looked at my gun and dropped my arms to my side. "And unfortunately she was never wrong, but I learned that too late." My head lowered. Thank you, Jesus.

  Suddenly the lights blazed to life. Fifi looked up at the track lighting. "That would be compliments of Gus. He's down in your basement."

  "Watch out!" I pointed. "Barbara is back there by the front door passed out."

  "Yeah, we saw her. Stavros has that under control."

  They moved to the side and I could see him kneeling beside

  her."Be careful. I think Andreas must've filled her full of PCP or something. She's real whacked out." I laid my gun on the counter, and then on second thought put it in my pocket. "We need the police."

  "Taken care of, sugah. They're on the way," said Fifi looking rather proud.

  Andreas moaned and moved a bit. Angelica shoved her .45 Long Colt in his face and declared, "Make my day."

  I grimaced. "I think you'd better call her off, Fifi . So we don't have to explain a corpse."

  Fifi snorted. "This is one corpse I wouldn't mind explainin'."

  Greta stood beside Angelica, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. "Yeah, make our day," she said, waving the flashlight.

  I looked at Fifi . "Why is she threatening him with that little flashlight?"

  Fifi raised her chin and put her hand on her hip. "Hey, Greta, show Sloane how your flashlight works."

  Greta touched it to Andreas's leg. His body vibrated and convulsed onto his side.

  "Stop!" I yelped.

  Greta moved away.

  "What in the world?" I stared at Andreas. A small thread of drool rolled from the side of his lips as his legs quivered.

  Fifi snorted. "That's Greta's stun flashlight. Ain't it a pip?"

  "A pip! Stun guns are illegal in New York City. What is she doing with that?"

  Fifi raised her hands. "Hey, sugah, she's a little ol' lady. I ain't tellin' her what she can and cannot have."

  "For crying out loud, get that put away before the police arrive." I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling and then squeezed them shut. What a night.

  Greta frowned and shoved it into the big quilted bag that was hanging off her shoulder.

  Sirens and flashing lights stopped in front of the building.

  I reached out and hugged Fifi . "I have never been so glad to see anyone in my entire life. How did you know?"

  "I had a date with Robby, remember?"

  "Yeah. So?"

  "We went to dinner up at Cristos, and we're sitting there talking and he tells me that he can't help me find an apartment because he quit his job," said Fifi . "So I'm thinking, great, so he's gonna be tellin' me that he's broke and I need to pay for this fancy dinner. But instead, sugah, Robby tells me that he quit 'cause he done found out who owned Coltrane Realty."

  We both
said it in unison. "Andreas Comino."

  Fifi's jaw dropped. She touched my arm. "Sugah, you knew?"

  "Yeah, for like the last ten or fifteen minutes. He taunted me with it."

  "Well, anyway, just about that time, Angelica calls up to tell me that both Andreas and Trey have come into this buildin' and haven't come back out, so we hightailed it up the street."

  I looked at Angelica. My angel, for sure.

  "When we arrived here, Trey was dead downstairs." She pointed at Andreas. "And this one was nowhere to be seen. So I called the cops."

  I looked at the four of them. "But how did you get in here?"

  Fifi held up the keys to Mom's apartment. "You left these on the desk in the store. I had figured on sneakin' up the circular stairs from her apartment to see what was goin' on up here, but then I saw the post-Colonial, neo-chaos redecorating you'd been workin' on and decided to join the party."

  A knock at the front door announced the police. Gus stood and approached the door. He looked befuddled trying to figure out how to open it.

  I tossed Gus my keys. "The one to unlock it is in there somewhere."

  My knees gave way and I slid to the floor.

  Fifi rushed to my side. "Oh, sugah. Are you gonna be all right?"

  "Yeah. Sure. Don't you recognize this?"

  Fifi squinted.

  "It's how I celebrate the conclusion of all my just-escaped my-third-homicidal-maniac-this-week position."

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later . . .

  CALYPSO MUSIC DRIFTED IN FROM THE KITCHEN. FIFI SASHAYED IN CARRYING two sandwiches on plates and a bag of potato chips jammed under her arm. She plopped down on the rug without losing a thing.

  "Here ya go, sugah. Sustenance to tide us over till dinner," said Fifi as she tore open the bag of chips and dug in.

  I sat cross-legged in the middle of the large, lime green shag rug, sipping on a bottle of black cherry carbonated water. I buried the fingers of my right hand into the soft fibers as I leaned back and supported myself on that arm. I didn't know that they even made shag rugs anymore, let alone that anybody would use one.

  I looked around the room. Stacks of boxes littered every available space. "It's going to take you a month of Sundays to get this stuff all unpacked."

  Fifi leaned back with both hands resting on the rug. "Yeah, but I figure since I don't ever have to move again, I have plenty of time."

  "Don't even look at me! I'm not coming down here every day to help you get this stuff put away. You're on your own."

  "No, sugah, we'll never be on our own again. We have each other."

  I grabbed up a half of sandwich. "If you're all right with living in Mom's apartment after what the police found, then so am I."

  "Sloane, sugah, me and your momma spent a lifetime as friends. I feel her in every room of this apartment."

  "When I think about it now, I still get shivers. If he hadn't actually needed me for the building, he would have killed me that same day," I said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I didn't remember it until Griffen talked about Andreas's confession, but when I found Mom, he was just suddenly there . . . behind me. I was so distraught at the time, and so glad to have him to lean on, that I never questioned it."

  "He was already in the apartment?"

  "Yes. Can you imagine that? I didn't even realize. Apparently, he was repositioning Mom's body to make it look natural and knocked the drug vials and needles behind the headboard. He was trying to retrieve them when I came in."

  Fifi shivered. "Ugh."

  "Griffen pointed out that if I had let Andreas help clean this place like he offered, he would have found the evidence and then had no more use for me. He would have killed me."

  "God was watching over you, sugah."

  I swallowed the bite of sandwich and looked into space. "You're right."

  "I know I'm right. Do you realize the list of coincidences that had to come together for him to get caught?"

  I shook my head. "No coincidence. Only the hand of God."

  Fifi looked at me. "I'd sure say that your momma was right on target about that man. And I think she'd have liked this particular change in events very, very much, sugah."

  "What change of events?"

  Fifi rolled her eyes and batted her lashes furiously. "Griffen this and Griffen that."

  "Don't be silly. He said I could—"

  A knock sounded on the door.

  "Hold that thought." Fifi scrambled to her feet and opened the door.

  Griffen Justice stood there in a casual shirt, blazer, and tan Dockers.

  "Well, Detective Justice, do come in." Fifi grinned broadly as she turned her head in my direction.

  I looked down and brushed the crumbs off my shirt. Auh breeze, I'm such a slob.

  "Ladies, please," said Justice, holding up a hand. "I'm off duty. Call me Griffen."

  I smiled and nodded.

  He held my gaze.

  I felt self-conscious and diverted my eyes to the sandwich still in my hand. Why am I holding this? I set it on the plate, and brushed my hands together to get rid of the crumbs.

  Fifi scrambled from the kitchen with a folding chair. "Have a seat, Griffen."

  I rolled my eyes at her deliberate accent on his name. Big deal. He had told me to call him by his first name last week when we spoke about the case.

  Griffen sat down on the chair. His heady sandalwood cologne drifted across my face.

  "The guy down in the store said that I could find you ladies up here."

  "What brings you to our domain today, sugah?" Fifi had taken a rug seat next to me.

  "With succeeding interviews and his lawyer's cooperation, we've gotten more details." Griffen leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  "Lawyer cooperation? What does that mean?" I asked.

  "It means that Comino has plea-bargained himself into a lighter sentence."

  Fifi slapped her hand on her knee. "Are you kidding me? He murdered Camille. How can this happen?"

  Griffen clasped his hands together, and looked down at the floor. "It was the DA's decision. There were other people involved and the prosecution got him to roll over on them for a deal."

  I felt a lump forming in my throat. "That hardly seems fair to my mom."

  "Or to Mr. Mastronardi."

  "What?" I looked into Griffen's eyes and saw sadness.

  "Comino's henchman killed the old guy right before your mother, in a bid to get control of the largest part of the property."

  My hand went to my throat. "That poor old man."

  "It's just sad that your momma and poor Mr. Mastronardi had to die for his greed," said Fifi .

  "Sad for Mom, but I don't know about old lady Bianca. She mourned him for a hot five minutes and is still on a cruise to Sicily. I don't think she's missed a beat since he died." I grabbed up some chips to push down the lump. This was not the time to cry.

  "Are you all right?" asked Griffen. "We don't have to talk about this. Now or ever. You tell me what you need, and I'll do it."

  I swallowed the chips and the lump, and huffed a sigh. "Yeah, it's just hard to digest." I didn't mean the chips. "Did they kill Mr. Mastronardi the same way as Mom?"

  "They contacted the wife, and she allowed a disinterment so they could do another autopsy. They traced the drugs from the autopsy to Andreas. Something about the drug batches having chemical markers so that they can tell who they were issued to."

  I sat up straight. "So he's as good as done, right? The papers say he's looking at several lifetimes in prison for all of this."

  Griffen raised the left side of his mouth. "Well, not with the plea deal."

  "What? How long will he get?" Fifi scrunched up her forehead.

  "Not sure," said Griffen. "He embezzled almost five million dollars from his company. They're willing to forgo charges if they get the bulk of their money returned."

  My mouth dropped open. "Don't forget they caught him dead to rights for
killing Trey and drugging poor Barbara."

  Griffen nodded his head, sending more musk in my direction. "The DA is taking all that into consideration."

  "What about poor Barbara? She's certainly not my favorite person, but I sure don't wish her harm," said Fifi .

  "They've involuntarily committed her for thirty days, so her system can absorb the drugs. They'll do a psych evaluation to see if she's fit for outpatient care after that," said Griffen.

  "No thanks to Andreas . . ." The name rolled a shiver up my spine. "He tried to make that poor woman a psychotic." I hung my head.

  Griffen shook his head. "Apparently she has a multiple personality disorder that he was using to his advantage."

  "And all this was because he needed this block to put the embezzled money back into before the audit discovered that it was missing." I grabbed up a burned potato chip. I loved the burned ones. Great. I'm munching like a cow in front of Griffen.

  Griffen sat up and slapped his hands on his knees. "Yep. That would be the crux of it."

  "Yeah, well, we still have the e-mails and the rat that are unexplained," said Fifi .

  "Couldn't they prove that any of that was attributed to him?" I nibbled on a potato chip.

  Griffen shook his head. "No, and he didn't admit to any of it either."

  "I guess it's all over, till we hear something to the contrary." Fifi shrugged.

  "That would be my take." Griffen rose from the chair. "Ladies, I should be going."

  I raised the side of my lip. "I—"

  He turned from the door. "Yes?"

  "Um, nothing . . ." I shook my head. What was I thinking? "Thank you for the information . . . Griffen."

  He smiled, nodded, and was gone.

  I watched the door.

  Fifi made kissy faces at me.

  I shot a glance in her direction. "What?"

  Fifi covered her mouth. "It looks to me like you and Griffen Justice might be turning into an item."

  "Don't be ridiculous. He's not my type."

  "Yeah . . . right, sugah. I know that look."

  "We're just lucky that the timing was right when we told him what we had done about Verlene's book. We could have wound up in big trouble for hindering an investigation." I grabbed a gulp from my bottle of black cherry water.