Murder and Mozzarella

  Murder and Mozzarella

  The Terrified Detective: Book Six

  Carole Fowkes

  Table Of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Eclairs and Executions

  Cupcakes and Corpses

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2019 by Carole Fowkes

  eBook conversion by Ink Lion Books

  Cover by Kathleen Baldwin

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, downloaded, transmitted, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored in or introduced to any information storage and retrieval system, in any form, whether electronic or mechanical without the author’s written permission. Scanning, uploading or distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without permission is prohibited.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic versions, and do not participate in, or encourage pirated electronic versions

  Chapter One

  Ed stood beside the shabby sofa in my office reception area and, addressing my father Frank, my Aunt Lena and me, hoisted his glass of champagne, revealing the dancing girl tattoo on his forearm. “Here’s to DeNardo and Son. May it have many well-paying clients.”

  I grinned widely and took a sip of my drink. Then I stood and raised my glass. “To a great friend and assistant, not to mention my new uncle, Ed Horwath.”

  My fifty-something Aunt Lena, who had recently become Ed’s bride, lifted her flute. “May you both stay safe and make sure you still come over to Cannoli’s and help. Angie and me can’t do it alone.” Cannoli’s was her bakery and Angie was her best friend and employee. Until opening my own private investigation agency, I worked at Cannoli’s part-time as well as working full-time as an assistant at Francini Private Investigation Agency, which was owned by my father’s second cousin, Gino.

  Ed chucked her under the chin. “Aw, Lena. We’ll both be okay and as far as the second part of your toast,” he gave her a mischievous smile, “How could I stay away from a babe like you?”

  Aunt Lena glanced down at her generous torso and harrumphed, but I could see she was melting like whipped cream on a hot day.

  I picked up Charlie, my half-boxer, half-something else. Actually, he was wiggling so much I only managed to pick his front paws up. “Here’s to the ‘Son’ in DeNardo and Son, Charlie.”

  My dear father, although allergic to dogs, sniffled and tried to tough it out for this opening celebration of my new agency. For the sake of my dad and his reddened, Roman nose and watery eyes, I escorted Charlie back to his crate in the office kitchen. Not that my dog didn’t whimper. But with the toss of a new rawhide toy, I stepped back into the reception area.

  “Hey, didn’t Brian promise to stop by?” My father asked. He was talking about Cleveland Police Detective Brian Corrigan, my fiancé.

  “He said if he could swing it, he would.” I doubted he’d show since he’d made no bones about his worry that I’d be putting myself in continual danger with the opening of my own private investigation agency. Maybe he was right, but I couldn’t dwell on that possibility. Sure it terrified me, even though I’d solved some major crimes by this time.

  “Speaking of missing persons, how come your wife’s not here?” Aunt Lena crossed her arms.

  My father’s voice stayed neutral. “Suzy had to work. She’s by herself at the salon.”

  I headed my aunt off at the pass. “It’s a shame Suzy doesn’t have someone like you do, Aunt Lena. I mean Angie can run Cannoli’s single-handed for a while. Anyway, Suzy called me this morning to congratulate me.”

  Aunt Lena sniffed, but didn’t respond. My father sent me a look of thanks. No matter how hard everyone, including Suzy, tried to smooth the Aunt Lena-Suzy relationship, it continued to be more like rocky road than silky chocolate. My aunt still hadn’t completely gotten over the fact my father had remarried four years after his wife, my mom and Aunt Lena’s sister, had died.

  Ed put his sinewy arm around my aunt’s ample waist. “Speaking of work, I should get you back to Cannoli’s. It’s probably mobbed by now.”

  “I oughtta leave too. Let my daughter get her business started.” My dad kissed my cheek. “I’m proud of you, Claire. But please, no more murder cases. I couldn’t take it. I was downing so many antacids with that last one I probably paid for some pharmaceutical executive’s vacation.”

  I chuckled. “It’s highly doubtful there’ll be more cases like that last one. Or the ones before.”

  At least I hoped there wouldn’t be. Bravery didn’t come naturally to me. In fact, if I had been able to get a job with my college major, mass communications, I never would have gone down this path. But, having recently turned 32 and just opening my own agency, it seemed a bit late for that. Now I worried about keeping the doors here open and feeding Charlie and me.

  With farewells and thanks to all, I closed the door behind the family. I was putting the leash on Charlie to walk him before taking him home when I heard the door open.

  Thinking it was Ed I came back out to the front office with Charlie. But instead of Ed, it was a fashionably-dressed woman in her early fifties. Her hair was well cut and her makeup was carefully applied to make the most of her good looks.

  “Can I help you?”

  She shifted her Louis Vuitton purse to her other shoulder. “I’d like to speak with either Mr. DeNardo or his son.” Her voice was low as if she were afraid some invisible being was listening in.

  I didn’t point out that the son was Charlie, but I did correct her assumption about the Mister. “I’m Claire DeNardo, the agency’s owner.” Since she didn’t appear to have any obvious objection to working with a woman, I asked, “Would you like to have a seat in my office?” We both looked down at my dog. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Thank you.” She sat on the edge of the chair, back straight and legs crossed at the ankles.

  Protesting all the way, Charlie was once again relegated to his crate in the kitchen.

  That done, I stepped into my office, and spotted the open pizza box on the credenza. “We were having a celebration…” The woman smiled weakly.

  I didn’t want to put the pizza in the kitchen. The scent would drive Charlie crazy. When I grabbed the box to dispose of it in the reception area’s trash can, a string of mozzarella cheese that was hanging over the edge stuck to my finger. “Now, first could I have your name?” I dropped my hands, pulled the cheese off, and stuck it on the bottom of the desk. I’d clean it off later.

  “Marlene Vanderson. Mrs.”

  “Address and phone number please?’

  She stiffened. “Do you really need that information?”

  “If you don’t want to be contacted at your home or by phone, we can work out another way of doing so.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’ll keep everything confidential?”

  “That’s my policy.
”

  “Very well.” She rattled off a phone number, explaining it was her private line. When she gave me her address, I tried to keep a poker face, but was surprised that she’d come to the west side of Cleveland. She was from the east side. It may not seem like much of a deal to outsiders, but here, east and west don’t mix on a regular basis. She came from Pepper Pike, one of the ritziest suburbs in the area. I couldn’t imagine why she’d come to my less-than-posh agency. Unless she really wanted to stay anonymous.

  Keeping my voice neutral, I asked, “What brings you here?”

  “My daughter, Trish, has been missing for four days. I’ve checked with her friends and her co-workers. Nobody has seen or heard from her.”

  “Maybe she took some time away, you know, to decompress?”

  She raised her chin. “Of course not! Trish was happy. She has everything, including her parents’ love.” Her voice momentarily broke, but she recovered herself quickly.

  “Okay. If you do believe something’s happened to her, have you spoken to the police yet? Not that I don’t want to help you, but they have greater resources for this sort of thing.”

  Her nostrils flared reminding me of a thoroughbred horse who’d sensed a snake underfoot. She cleared her throat. “No. I…I can’t.”

  What’s she afraid of? “Why is that?”

  She slumped a bit. “My husband doesn’t want anyone to know. He mustn’t even learn I’m here.”

  I squinted at her, puzzled. “Isn’t he concerned that Trish is missing?” I turned from the computer. “Okay. Mrs. Vanderson. I need a bit more information.”

  I waited. Silence can sometimes bring out truths. That is, if I don’t fill them with my own inane comments.

  Her voice hardened. “Before I go on, will you take the case and find my daughter?”

  I weighed the prospect of having a client and an income against having none. “Of course, but I need some more details.” She nodded and I continued. “Why doesn’t your husband want Trish’s disappearance looked into?”

  She wrung her hands and for a moment, I thought she’d refuse to answer. “Because his…our son might have something to do with this.”

  I sat back in my chair. “You’d better explain.”

  She exhaled. “You see, it’s the second marriage for John and me. When we married five years ago, I brought Trish. He brought Parker, who’s 21. Trish is 22. The two children have not exactly gotten along. My daughter has always had lots of friends, good grades, successful.” As if she were drinking a sour wine, she added, “Parker is the opposite. Always in trouble. Kicked out of one school, then another. We pulled some strings and got him into college. After one semester he dropped out and didn’t even tell us. He’s always resented Trish. Even threatening to, as he puts it, take her out of the picture.”

  “If your husband suspects Parker of hurting Trish, why hasn’t he confronted his son? Or has he?”

  She lowered her gaze but I could hear the bitterness in her voice. “No matter what that boy does, John protects his son. My husband has covered up a multitude of Parker’s sins. But this time it’s gone too far…”

  “Where was Parker when your daughter disappeared?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t reach him. He doesn’t answer his phone or respond to my texts.”

  “What will you do if I find that Parker kidnapped Trish? Or worse?”

  She blew out a breath and it seemed to deflate her. “It’ll no doubt be the end of my marriage, but I’ll go to the police.” She delicately patted her nose with a tissue. “I love John, but Trish is my world.”

  That’s when I decided I’d take the case. “Do you have pictures of your children?”

  She pulled out two photos. “Here’s Trish. This is Parker.”

  Their personalities weren’t their only differences. Trish was dark haired with pretty, balanced features. She looked every inch a debutante. Parker was fair-haired, with high cheekbones and thin lips that curved less into a smile than a snarl. His eyes were most startling. An icy blue that could make a strong man shiver.

  “Where was Trish last seen and at what time?”

  “According to her friend Meagan, Trish left work at five this past Friday. They work together.”

  “And what about Parker? What was he doing at that time?”

  She made a face. “I assume he was either at his apartment or hanging out with some other lowlifes.”

  “I’ll need the phone numbers and addresses of both your children along with business addresses and a list of friends. Plus any other information you think might be helpful.”

  “I’ve already written down the information. The fewer visits I have to make to your office, the less chance John has of finding out I’m doing this.”

  As I skimmed the list, my mind was already spinning as to my approach to this case.

  After agreeing upon my fee, Mrs. Vanderson wrapped her cashmere coat around her shoulders and prepared to leave. “Remember, John must not know about our deal.”

  Doing my best to hide my excitement over DeNardo and Son’s first case, I nodded. “I’ll only contact you if necessary and only on this cell number you gave me.”

  Her voice shaky, she said, “Please. Find my Trish.” With that she left me to my assignment.

  I waited ten minutes until I was sure my client wouldn’t return. Once again I aimed to take Charlie out for his walk. But I didn’t even get the crate’s latch undone when I heard someone else enter my office. I hurried into the reception area to see who it was.

  “I’m here to speak to the agency’s owner.” Despite being no more than 5’10”, the man in front of me commanded my attention and appeared used to getting what he wanted.

  I refused to let myself bend beneath the force of his character. “I’m the owner. Claire DeNardo. What can I do for you?”

  He smiled, but his eyes remained cold, challenging. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m John Vanderson.”

  Chapter Two

  This is about to get interesting.

  I kept a poker face. One thing Gino taught me was, if I hadn’t a clue what to say, I should ask a question. “And why should I have heard of you?”

  “My wife, Marlene, was just in to see you.”

  A statement. Not a question. When I didn’t respond, he added, “I’m sure she asked you to find our daughter, Trish.”

  I bet his wife is taller than him.

  “You know this how?”

  “May I sit down?” Before I could respond, he lowered himself into the chair. “Marlene can be so transparent in her plans. I followed her here.” He frowned and glanced around the room. “Though I’m not exactly sure why she picked this agency.”

  I imagined shooting darts at him to deflate his ego. “Exactly what is your purpose here, Mr. Vanderson?”

  “It’s simple. I also want you to find Trish, and I’ll pay you generously for doing so. With one stipulation. When you find her, you inform me before telling my wife anything.”

  This was worse than a thousand piece puzzle with the corner pieces missing. “Why should I do that?”

  He leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “Simple. If Trish has been hurt or worse, I’ll make sure whoever’s responsible pays. And I can do a better job of that than Marlene. My wife lets her emotions get in the way.”

  His argument flew as well as a duck with one wing. “She’s assured me she’ll go to the police.”

  He sneered. “Private investigators are supposed to be more cynical. Very well, I have another reason you’ll want to cooperate with me. That is, if you want to be successful. You’re new in this business and clients can be so difficult to obtain…”

  Without waiting for my response, he pulled out a check that was just a touch under double his wife’s and laid it on my desk. “I’ll be in touch.” He strode out of my office without looking back.

  I blew out a deep breath and let my shoulders drop. I had no doubt Vanderson wanted to be first in line to lear
n where Trish was and who was involved, but why not hire a big time investigator? Did he actually believe I’d find her before anyone else could? I puffed up a bit with that thought, but quickly deflated recalling he’d probably want to hush the whole incident up if his son was involved.

  I shook my head. Only 24 hours in business and I already had a problem. But then I looked from Mrs. Vanderson’s check to that of her husband’s. I placed both in my desk drawer. There were a lot worse things to happen to a new agency than deciding which client’s wishes to follow.

  At least that was what I was thinking when Charlie and I went for a walk. When we returned, Charlie went back into his crate, and I sat back at my desk to call Ed to let him know we had our first case.

  “Anybody home?” It was Corrigan.

  “Back here.” I stood and moved toward the tiny reception area.

  “I brought you these.” He handed me a bouquet bursting with a variety of flowers.

  “They’re beautiful, Brian. Thank you.” The flowers were indeed gorgeous, but they couldn’t hold a candle to him, with his broad shoulders, thick blond hair and dimples to die for.

  He glanced around at the worn-out furniture Gino had left me, and the drab, dirty-beige office walls. “Thought they might brighten up the place.” His blue eyes flashed. “But I should’ve known, wherever you are is pretty dazzling already.”

  I giggled, “You sweet talker, you.” I took the flowers and headed toward the closet-sized kitchen. “I better put these in a vase.”

  When I returned, he circled my waist with his arms. “Sorry about missing your official celebration. Let’s have our own celebration tonight.” With a devilish grin, he added. “Dinner at Dante’s and then…”

  My stomach growled at the first suggestion. My lower regions responded to the second part. After we decided on a time, he gave me a sample kiss of the kind to come. “Wish I could stay and keep this up, but the Captain wants to meet with me. How about I pick you up at seven?” After one more kiss, he left.

  Dinner at seven. That gave me six hours to get down to business. First up was to find out all I could about the Vandersons, especially John and his son, Parker. Toward that end, I called Ed.