“Ssh, baby, I’m here,” Mario said, kneeling on the floor and reaching for Maureen’s pulse. Her arm was stiff and cold. Pulling Kitten away from the body, he called 911, and tried to comfort her while he waited for the police to arrive. She rocked back and forth in an armchair, her body hunched over, and sobbed without a break, teeth chattering despite the warm day.
Within minutes Maureen’s condo was swarming with crime scene investigators from the Seattle Police Department. Shortly, because the murder had all the makings of a high-profile case, Seattle Police Chief Dan Hewson arrived on the scene. Chief Hewson spoke to Mario after an unsuccessful attempt at getting any sense out of Kitten.
“Anything you can tell us, Mr. Carlucci?” the Chief asked him, while a doctor who had been called to the scene wrapped Kitten in a silver foil blanket. “Your wife’s in shock. It’s just a suggestion, but you might want to discuss with the doctor whether a sedative might be appropriate in these circumstances.”
Mario shook his head. “I called the police as soon as I got here. Kitten was supposed to meet her sister for a workout earlier, but Maureen’s a late riser so Kitten didn’t think anything of it when she didn’t show up. I’d arranged to take them both for lunch, and Kitten stopped by Maureen’s place after she’d been to the gym to let her know. That’s when she found her.”
“Was the door open, or does your wife have keys?”
“Kitten has a key, but you’ll have to ask her if she used it. I’d just be speculating.”
“When was the last time you saw Ms. Knight?”
“Last night. She was at a party at our penthouse upstairs. She left before us, but I’m not certain of the time.”
“Did she leave alone, or was someone with her?”
Mario thought for a while. He looked over to where Kitten was being attended to by the doctor. She was out of earshot. “That’s a good question. Maureen had several…uh, gentlemen friends, shall we say. I believe she may have left the party with her ex-husband, but what happened after that would be conjecture.”
Mac.
Mario couldn’t believe her ex-husband was responsible for the two gunshot wounds in her chest that had caused Maureen’s death. No stranger to guns from his Mafia days, Mario could tell Maureen had been facing her killer when she was shot at close range. That was because Maureen’s body had been pretty messed up, which helped to explain Kitten’s distress.
“We’re going to have to seal the place off,” the Chief said, “and there will also be a police presence in the rest of the building while we investigate. I’d ask you to contact us again as soon as your wife is feeling better. She’s understandably very upset, but we’ll need to speak to her as soon as possible.”
“Fine,” Mario said, taking the Chief’s card. “I’ll inform the doorman and concierge to help your team in whatever way they can, and let you know when my wife is able to talk.”
It took the assistance of a female police officer to get Kitten upstairs and into bed, and that was only after the doctor gave her a shot of something that would calm her down and make her sleep.
“Find them,” Kitten wailed, when he tucked her into bed. “Whoever did this to Maureen, you must find them. Promise me, Mario.” Mario sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair until she fell asleep, assuring her the killer would be found and brought to justice.
Mario paced around the penthouse for some time, all thoughts of Joe and the China Create problem gone from his mind. Kitten was his priority, and he didn’t make promises he wasn’t able to keep. Tracking down killers and avenging murder wasn’t something he’d done in a long time, and he’d never been good at it to begin with.
It was fortunate he knew someone who was. He placed a call to Briana and explained that he needed to contact Al De Duco about a personal matter.
“I don’t expect you to give me his number,” Mario said, “but he was telling me last night he’s gone into the PI business. I have a job he might be interested in. I’d appreciate it if you could let him know and pass my contact details to him as a matter of urgency.”
“Of course,” Briana said in her usual cheerful manner. “I’ll call him now and ask him to get right back to you.”
“Thanks, Briana, I appreciate it.”
Mario buried his head in his hands. Once he’d spoken to Al, there was another call he was dreading to make. He would have to break the news to Mac, who in turn would have the responsibility of telling two young adults that their mother was dead.
There were no winners in the game of murder.
CHAPTER 10
“How was the game? Did Red enjoy his first trip to Bark at the Park?” Cassie asked as she set down her book and looked up at Al, who had just entered the kitchen wearing a Seattle Mariners jersey. He was accompanied by Red, who was on a leash and wearing the dog equivalent of a baseball cap, a dark blue visor hat with earholes, with the Mariners’ logo sewn on the front.
Al set his program on the counter and grinned. “You should come with us next time. Awesome, wasn’t it, Red? The Mariners whipped the Angels. And look what Red got for the Dog Giveaway.”
Al produced a Mariners dog bowl mat from his coat pocket as if he was a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
“Wow,” Cassie said, inspecting the mat. She turned it over a couple of times and smoothed it with her hand to remove the creases. “That is impressive. Lucky Red.”
She glanced at the dog, who was tugging on his leash. Al unclasped it from his collar, and they both watched as the Doberman exited through the open kitchen glass doors and onto the patio.
Al removed his coat and plopped down on a high stool at the counter. “Ima thinkin’ Red enjoyed himself, but it’s hard to tell with that dog. He sure ain’t givin’ nuthin’ away.”
Cassie watched Red pace the length of the patio, head erect and turning slowly as his eyes scanned the garden. “He’s always on guard,” she said.
“Yeah, he’s got his head screwed on. There’s no messin’ around with Red, not like Balto at all.” Al lowered his voice. “That’s kinda’ why I wanted to make a fuss over Red tonight. I think his nose mighta’ been bent outta’ joint while Balto was stayin’ here. Me an’ him had a postgame walk around the bases, and Red seemed to like it. He only growled at the other dogs once or twice.”
Cassie got up to fix Al a snack. “Did you speak to Briana? She called here earlier to say she’d been trying to reach you, but your phone was switched off.”
Al’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I picked up her message after the game. She asked if I could call Mario Carlucci, said it was a personal matter and that it was urgent. I thought it was strange, so I went ahead and called him on the way home.”
He paused, while Cassie dished up a bowl of salad she’d prepped earlier. Then she opened the oven door and placed a dish of mac n’ cheese inside to warm.
“You’d best come back over here and sit down again, ‘cuz I got somethin’ I need to run past ya’,” he said.
Cassie washed her hands and sat down opposite Al at the counter, drying them with a towel as she did so. “What’s up? You look serious. Did Mario say something to upset you?”
Al sighed. “Not directly. But there was a bit of trouble at the Waterfront Palace last night after the party. Or it mighta been this mornin’, I dunno’. Kitten found her sister Maureen dead earlier today in her condo. She lives a few floors down from the penthouse.” He shook his head. “Awful nice woman. Kinda lost her way after her marriage broke up, but she had a kind heart. Mario said Kitten’s devastated.”
“I’m not surprised. That’s terrible. Was she ill, or did she have some sort of an accident?”
Al stared straight at Cassie. “Not unless you call getting shot in the chest at point blank range an accident. The way Mario tells it, poor ol’ doll never had a chance.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I met her briefly last night when Kitten introduced us. She was friendly, although we didn’t speak for long. She and Kitten had their heads g
lued together and were doing a lot of whispering and giggling most of the time I was with them.”
“That sounds about right.” Al reached across the counter, taking Cassie’s hands in his. “I want to ask you somethin’ and if you’re not comfortable with it you gotta’ tell me, right?”
Cassie had a feeling she knew what was coming, but she didn’t want to second-guess Al before he had a chance to say whatever was on his mind. “Sure. Go on,” she said to her husband.
Al exhaled. “Mario promised Kitten he would find whoever was responsible for her sister’s death. Mario’s been goin’ straight fer years, what with his business an’ all, and he doesn’t want to get involved directly in case his past comes up. On top of that, it sounds like he’s been havin’ a bit of a problem with his business partners which might complicate things further. Between you an’ me, I think that’s just an excuse.”
“What do you mean?”
Al’s front gold tooth glinted when he smiled. “Mario was the worst mobster I ever met. Couldn’t shoot straight, not even to hit a tin can sittin’ on the top of a wall. He always got the jitters. Good thing he got out when he did, or else he woulda’ got himself killed long ago.”
Cassie’s hands squeezed Al’s. “What’s all this got to do with you?”
Al took a deep breath. “He asked if I’d take on the job to find the murderer. I know it’s not like we need the money, but he’s payin’ top whack. How would you feel about it, if I agreed to do it?”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I’d have to talk it over with you. If it makes you uncomfortable, with the Kitten connection, I won’t do it.”
“Don’t look so worried, Al. I don’t have an issue with it at all.” Cassie thought for a second. “Just answer one question for me. This is about you wanting to help Kitten, not Mario, and whether that causes me concern, is that right?”
Al nodded. “Yes. I do want to help Kitten, because that’s what friends do. I’d do the same for anyone.”
“Good.” Cassie’s face broke out into a smile. “I’d be disappointed in you if you didn’t want to do it. I think Mario asked the right person.”
“I’ll have to spend several days in Seattle,” Al said, “and I’d like you to come with me.”
“That’s not a problem,” Cassie responded. When do we leave?”
*****
Cassie could hear Al on the phone while she packed their things the following morning.
“Rob? We got ourselves a murder case. The decedent is a lady by the name of Maureen Knight. Fifty-five years of age. She went back to her maiden name after her divorce. Her married name was Maureen Jeffrey. I need ya’ to get everythin’ ya’ can on her, all right?”
Cassie opened the closet. She wasn’t sure how long they’d be gone, and she decided to take enough clothes for both of them for several days. She reached for a stack of Al’s folded polo shirts and several pairs of jeans and placed them on the bed.
“Ima headin’ to Seattle now. We’ll be stayin’ at the Waterfront Palace, which is where the murder took place,” Al went on. “Can ya’ call Luke and ask him to meet me there? I’ve cleared it with the owner already, and we’ve got access to all areas.”
He was silent while Rob spoke on the other end of the line, before wrapping up the call. “Great, thanks, Rob, I’ll talk to you later.”
Al walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, knocking over one of the piles of clothes.
Cassie motioned for him to move. “Here, make yourself useful,” she said, handing him a cosmetic bag. “We need our toothbrushes and your shaving things from the bathroom. Are you sure it’s alright for us to stay at the Waterfront Palace? I don’t mind checking into a hotel.”
Al took the bag from her and wandered over to the bathroom. “Course it is. There are several other furnished units as well as the penthouse, and Mario insisted we weren’t to pay a thing. He said it’s dog friendly and Red’s welcome to stay too. That sealed the deal, as far as I was concerned.”
“That’s nice of him. I guess we’ll get a sample of easy condo living after all.”
“And see if it’s for us?” Al called from the dressing room.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
Al returned with the cosmetic bag and handed it to Cassie. “Ima gonna’ go and get Red ready.”
“Okay,” Cassie said, lifting her hairbrush and a flower-shaped bottle of perfume from the dresser. “I’ll be ready soon.”
A short while later they were packed up and on their way. Standing on the passenger deck of the ferry from Bainbridge Island to Seattle, Cassie turned to Al. “I just remembered something that has to do with Maureen. It’s probably nothing, but...”
“It’s never nothin’ when someone’s mother’s lyin’ in the morgue with a coupla’ bullets in her chest,” Al said. “What’s on yer mind?”
“When I was standing with Kitten and Maureen at the party, the chef’s helper came around serving canapes. I remember thinking the quiche was delicious, and that I would have to tell DeeDee about it. Then I overheard Kitten say something about Chef Chastain being very talented. She asked if he had ever cooked a special dinner for Maureen.”
Al’s eye’s narrowed. “Ya’ think Maureen was seein’ the chef, like in romance?”
Cassie thought for a while. “That was definitely the implication, except I’m sure I saw Maureen leave the party with a different man. Do you remember when I said I wanted to say thanks to the chef before we left?”
Al nodded.
“I went over to speak to him, but as I approached I noticed he was staring across the room, preoccupied with something else. I turned to where he was looking, and that’s when I saw Maureen walking towards the elevator, hand-in-hand with another man. When I turned around again, Chef Chastain was gone.”
“Hmm. Ya’ think that was what the chef was lookin’ at—Maureen and her lover boy?”
Cassie gazed out over Puget Sound to where a flock of Glaucous-winged gulls were squawking as they flew past the ferry. “Yes. And when I looked in the kitchen just before we did leave, there was a lot of shouting going on. Or rather, the chef was shouting. Everyone else was cowering silently in their places.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Al pulled his phone from his pocket. “Ima gonna’ ask Rob to run a check on the chef as well.”
“Chef Chastain is known for his bad temper, so that type of behavior may not be all that unusual.” Cassie patted Red as the ferry slowed down coming into the Seattle terminal. She led the way down the steps towards where her car was parked on the lower level.
“From what I’ve heard through my work doing restaurant reviews, he’s both feared and worshipped in equal measure in pretty much every restaurant in the city. There are a lot of people who refuse to work with him.”
“That may be,” Al said. “But if he was angry with Maureen fer doin’ him over for some other guy, he mighta seen more action than just some screamin’.”
Cassie opened the trunk of her station wagon, and Red jumped up onto the checkered blanket in the caged-off area in the back. She poured him some water to drink while Al was on the phone.
“Rob? It’s me, Al. Put Chef Gaspard Chastain on yer’ list, will ya’? He was seein’ Maureen Knight but seems like he wasn’t the only one. Apparently, it’s common knowledge he has a nasty temper, but I wanna’ know if his bark’s worse than his bite. Call me as soon as ya’ got somethin’. Bye.”
Cassie closed the trunk and handed the car key to Al, who climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Ready?” he said, when Cassie was in. “Let’s do this.”
He put the station wagon in drive and the vehicle screeched down the ramp at top speed.
Cassie sighed, and leaned across to honk the horn so that the dis-embarking foot passengers were able to jump safely out of the way before Al mowed someone down.
CHAPTER 11
When Luke Robertson took the call from his co-worker Rob
asking if he could meet Al at the Waterfront Palace, he was pounding the streets of Seattle on his morning run. He did ten miles every day, rain or shine, and timed his route through the city so he ended up at his favourite coffee shop near his downtown address when it opened at 7:30 a.m.
That Sunday, he decided to go in and have breakfast. When he got home, he knew he’d barely have time for a quick shower before heading out again to meet Al. It might be a while before he got the chance to eat again.
He ordered at the counter and took a seat by the window to wait.
“Are you sure you don’t mind working today?” Rob had asked him when they spoke. “Al said if you’ve already made plans, not to cancel them.”
“It’s fine,” Luke assured him. “I wasn’t doing anything special.”
Rob briefed him on the details of the murder, the victim, and that she was known to Al through Mr. Carlucci and his wife, who had hired them to investigate. Luke said he would be there as soon as possible.
The truth was, Luke was glad for any excuse to go to work. Weekends were the worst, when he felt his overwhelming grief the most. The quiet apartment, the empty space on the other side of the bed. And most of all, the silence. No laughter, no back and forth chatter. Even an argument would have been welcome, if it meant Luke could hear Megan’s voice one more time. He had no plans, and not just for the day, but he simply had no plans for the rest of his life. When his fiancée had been murdered in April of that year, Luke’s future was buried with her. He hadn’t quite gotten around to plotting out a new one yet.
“Here’s your cappuccino,” the waitress said as she set a steaming mug of frothy coffee on the table. “And here’s your avocado toast.” She gave him a lingering smile, and he noticed her quick glance at his bare ring finger. “Can I get anything else for you?”
Luke looked up at the young woman, a curly-haired blond with a cute pigtail and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. He could tell when women were checking him out, and he shifted in his chair. “Um, that’ll be all, thanks,” he mumbled.
Murder at the Waterfront: A Northwest Cozy Mystery (Northwest Cozy Mystery Series Book 7) Page 7
