Killer Cannoli (A Terrified Detective Mystery Book 2) Read online

  I gave him a bittersweet smile. “In that case, there is one more thing.”

  “Name it.”

  I hated asking for favors, but in this case I’d done it so many times, I could go on the Public Broadcasting System during their fund drive. “Do you have a cell phone I could borrow?” Remembering the envelope, I pulled it out of my purse and handed it to Alex. “And do you have a stamp I could borrow?”

  I looked at the wall clock and jumped up. Precious time had passed and I hadn’t heard again from the kidnapper. I was filled with dread. Maybe after the last time he called he decided not to keep my aunt alive.

  Alex grabbed the door and his car keys. “I don’t know what you’re planning to do, but you shouldn’t do it alone.”

  If only he could come along with me. He and Corrigan and the Ohio National Guard. But my aunt, if she was still alive, wouldn’t make it out that way. I covered his hand with mine. “Thanks, Alex, but this part I have to do alone.”

  I kept it together as I walked out of his office, but as soon as I got into the elevator I slid down the wall, clasped my knees and whimpered in fear.

  Back in my car, I drove the speed limit and paid attention to the traffic lights. I couldn’t afford to get pulled over now. I returned to Cannoli’s and stashed the copy of the flash drive into the sugar bucket for safekeeping. I stretched and did some deep breathing, but I remained as tense as a squirrel facing an eighteen wheeler. Late though it was, it was time to visit Cicarelli’s Pizza, Santore’s hangout, to demand my aunt back using the flash drive as my bargaining chip. I prayed I could beat Corrigan and company there.

  I didn’t want to think about Santore rejecting my offer. Or what I’d do if he wasn’t involved. I remembered another of Gino’s rules: ‘Don’t try to find a solution until you’re sure of the problem.’

  Chapter Thirty

  I still had a phone call to make before I played ‘Let’s Make a Deal’ with Santore. Calling my dad. I used Alex’s phone so Corrigan with his phone tap on my phone, wouldn’t hear and send the cavalry after me.

  My stomach fluttered like a teenager sneaking home late. “Hope my calling doesn’t wake you, Dad. I’m sorry, but a client called asking for information. I’ll be back as quick as I can get away.”

  I no sooner hung up than Alex’s phone rang. It was Alex. “Claire, after I said that I was going with you, my uncle claims he wants me to be safe so he’ll cooperate with you in exchange for the flash drive and any copies you may have. But don’t trust him. Please, be careful.”

  Resting the phone between my head and shoulder, I steered with one hand and jotted down his uncle’s phone number with the other.

  As soon as I could, I pulled over and called Bucanetti. I felt lightheaded. The fib I told myself was that it was a lack of food or sleep rather than from nerves. I was swimming with the barracudas now and worried the flash drive wasn’t much of a life jacket. It’d have to do, though.

  Bucanetti answered on the third ring, probably just to let me know he wasn’t to be pushed. “Is this Claire?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So tell me your idea.”

  Nausea rolled through me. I laid it out for him and concluded with, “He’ll double-cross me, try to kill my aunt and me. That’s where you come in. I think—”

  He interrupted my ramblings. “Yeah, yeah. In other words, you do your thing, get your aunt back and I make sure nobody screws you.”

  “Sort of. I’m going to Cicarelli’s pizza now. I know it’s not much notice.”

  “Don’t worry about none of it. What you should worry about is that I get the flash drives, the original and any copies you or Joey made. Because if you hold out on me, let’s just say I’ll be real unhappy.”

  “Oh, I definitely want you to be happy.”

  After our call ended, a worm of apprehension over my choice of partners burrowed in my brain. I knew Bucanetti wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if I made one wrong move. But I’d made a deal with the devil and now had to go through with it and hope not to get burned in the process.

  ***

  I pulled up close enough to Cicarelli’s to check it out and spotted Freddie, one of Santore’s muscle men, standing outside smoking. That meant Santore was probably around. So far, so good. But fear drifted back in and fogged up my mind for a moment. Too bad brains don’t come with wipers.

  I ducked, hoping Freddie didn’t see me. I didn’t want him to alert Santore but in doing so I swerved to avoid running into a fire hydrant. The screech of my tires made me anything but inconspicuous. Freddie didn’t react, though. Either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. He flicked his cigarette butt into the street and went back inside.

  It was chilly outside, but I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead. I decided to wait a few minutes to calm down before my confrontation with Santore. A middle-aged couple and a young threesome exited the restaurant. I wondered when the place closed. I also thought about when exactly Bucanetti planned to jump in.

  I pumped myself up to confront Santore. Instead I answered my father’s call. “Hi Dad. How do you feel? Any chest pains, shortness of breath?”

  “I woke up fine, but you weren’t here. Got your message, though.” He sighed. “Couldn’t believe I fell asleep.”

  Just then a huge semi drove by. “You’re not really with another client, are you?” His voice a mixture of hurt, anger and worry.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I hated to lie, but I have to see this thing with Aunt Lena through to the end. I mean to bring her home.”

  He sighed and fatigue joined the other emotions I’d heard in his voice earlier. “But nobody knows where she is or what that bastard plans to do with her.”

  If only I had done a better job of protecting her. Or found the flash driver earlier. Guilt and regret piled on top of me. I wanted to rush back to my dad’s house and take care of him, but if I did that now I would have to do it again when they found my aunt’s dead body.

  I turned to face the street and spotted a healthy looking Santore getting out of a black sedan. “Dad, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back.”

  Santore couldn’t help but notice me, but he walked by like I wasn’t worthy of the space I inhabited. His body guard, Marco, of the duo, Marco and Freddie, sprang out of the car in time to hold Cicarelli’s door open. They stepped in and the door closed behind them.

  I hesitated for a second, but took a deep breath, straightened my jacket and strode like I was James Bond. Okay, Jane Bond.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I got as far as the hostess table and glanced around. But I didn’t see Santore. A young guy stopped me from going farther into the restaurant. “Claire?” His voice was so soft I could barely hear him. “Party of one?”

  I nodded and, out of the side of my mouth, asked, “Are you Nick Cicarelli?”

  He whispered, “Yeah. Alex told me he thought you’d end up here.” Louder he added, “Follow me please.” He led me to a small table in the back of the deserted restaurant. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

  Once seated, I stared down and pretended to read the menu. The words might as well have been hieroglyphics. Although my mouth was dry, I didn’t dare lift the glass of water to my lips. I was afraid of sloshing water all over the table, me or both.

  It took some time and deep breathing, but once I had a handle on my nervousness I looked up and around.

  I’d planned to sit there until Santore crawled out of his hole, but my bladder didn’t get the message. Despite keeping my liquid intake to a minimum, my need for the restroom loomed large. I tried to ignore it, even told myself it was just nerves. But the more I tried, the more urgent the need. I looked around and spotted a sign for the ladies’ necessary room pointing down a hallway.

  I’d been right. False alarm. I was drying my hands when Freddie and Marco entered the restroom and blocked the doorway. Freddie said, “Mr. Santore wants to see you.”

  “Then he can come to my table.” Every so often I surprise myself
with my boldness. In this case, though, the motivation was my afraid-ness and panic-ness. I didn’t want to meet up with Santore with nobody as a witness.

  Freddie didn’t hesitate. “He’s gonna keep company with a lady you been wanting to see real bad.”

  “Okay, I’ll just call—”

  He grabbed my arm and put his face right up to mine. “Now.” Without taking his eyes off me, Freddie dismissed Marco. Then, without another word, he yanked my gun from my waistband.

  Freddie led me down the stairs and through a hallway to where Marco and Santore stood talking in hushed tones.

  Santore turned when I entered and he smiled like he was a TV game show host. “Claire! Good to see you here.”

  “Where’s my aunt?”

  “Frisk her, Freddie.”

  I rushed to respond. “He doesn’t need to. I only had one gun and he already took it.”

  Freddie showed my gun to Santore who nodded. “Now we can get down to business. Where’s the flash drive?”

  “Where’s my aunt?”

  Santore’s lip curled. “A smart girl wouldn’t answer my question with another. Now if you got it on you, Freddie’ll find it.”

  Repulsion settled over me thinking of Freddie’s meaty hands anywhere on my body, but if I gave up the flash drive I had nothing to bargain with. I’d left a copy back at Cannoli’s as insurance and a note to Corrigan about it, held by Alex. But now I had my doubts Santore would believe me. In that case, I’d really be up a creek.

  When Freddie groped me, I wanted to throw up. Right on him. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something more pleasant, like a dentist visit. I thought I’d been clever when in the restroom I’d moved the flash drive into my shoe.

  “It ain’t on her, boss.”

  Santore stepped toward me and pointed to my shoes. “Take ‘em off.”

  I stepped out of my favorite pumps and Freddie turned my shoes upside down. The flash drive fell into his hand.

  “Okay, you got what you wanted. Let me have my aunt back. She’s no use to you anymore. And if you don’t, a copy of the flash drive will be in the police’s hands by tomorrow.”

  Santore rubbed his chin, like he was considering my threat. Quick as lightning he slapped me. Hard. My hand flew to the spot he’d hit. His eyes were black and cold as if his soul had long ago departed.

  I spun around to escape, but Freddie grabbed me by my hair and yanked me back. It felt like he’d stuck my scalp with a thousand pins. I cried out and tried to kick back at him, a mouse defending herself against a rhinoceros.

  My hands and arms went limp when someone hit me on the back of my head. The room darkened fast.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I awoke aching and disoriented with no idea where they’d taken me. I tried to rub my forehead, but I was roped into a chair, my arms tied together behind the back. My legs trussed at my ankles. A seed of panic sprouted like a weed and threatened to choke any rational thoughts. I forced myself to focus on my surroundings but realized they’d blindfolded me. No sound of my assailants. My mouth wasn’t taped. Small favors. I yelled. “Help!” and winced as the sound reverberated in my skull. No answer. I hollered again, but as before, no response. How could I handle the idea of being alone with only my fear to keep me company? What are they going to do with me? Where was the help Bucanetti agreed to supply?

  A door creaked open and I heard heavy footsteps moving toward me. “If you don’t shut it, I’m gonna slap tape on your mouth.” It was Freddie.

  “Where am I?”

  “Ain’t important. Just relax.”

  Someone else entered, probably Marco, and said, “Boss wants you to make sure the older lady stays calm and quiet.”Was he talking about my aunt?

  Freddie ripped the blindfold off me so fast some of my hair came with it and I bit my lower lip rather than cry out.

  Even the room’s dim light was too bright and I squinted. Once my eyes adjusted, I tried to see who Marco was tying up, but Freddie, the human tree trunk, blocked my view. I had to content myself with slight turns of my head to glimpse the room, now my prison cell. It looked like a small warehouse with two doors; one must have been the front entrance, the other the back. Close to me on one side were huge gallon metal cans of olive oil. Just as close but on the other side of me were bottles of vinegar. Was I the salad?

  Freddie left first and I beheld a sight so wonderful I forgot my restraints and tried to jump up. It was Aunt Lena, tied and gagged. She was still alive. “Aunt Lena!” I twisted and struggled against the ropes binding me. Tears of joy and frustration mixed.

  My aunt tilted her head and grunted, pushing against her ropes until Marco grabbed her by her hair. “Promise to sit still and I’ll let you ladies talk.”

  I tried to scoot my chair closer. “Don’t hurt her.”

  I cooed to my aunt. “It’s okay, Aunt Lena. I’m here. Do what he wants.” To my relief, she stopped wiggling and Marco let go of her hair and removed her gag.

  He flicked off the overhead light and disappeared through the same door by which he entered. The only brightness now came from a small desk lamp, enough to see any vermin that may scamper by.

  My pulse raced. “Aunt Lena! I’m sorry about all this, but I’ll get us out.” I kept up my babbling until Santore walked in followed by his musclemen.

  “You two done catching up?” He sneered. “It’s good you’re awake, Claire. Just in time to watch.”

  He nodded to Freddie, who pulled out a shiny scalpel. The light flashed on the metal, making it look all the more deadly. With a demented smile, Freddie strolled over to Aunt Lena who flinched and released a muffled cry when he ran the blade softly against her face.

  “Don’t.” My chest ached, probably my heart breaking.

  Santore motioned for him to stop and Freddie dropped his hand to his side. He threw me a dirty look, like I’d spoiled his fun.

  “Either you tell us where the other flash drive is or your aunt will have a new face.”

  Freddie ran his finger down the blade and demonstrated how sharp it was by cutting into his own flesh. The man was sick.

  Santore leaned over me. “What’s it gonna be?”

  A buzzing in my ears like I was in a beehive and a strong wave of nausea stopped me from answering right away. Aunt Lena’s wails brought me back. “The flash drive…” I hesitated, torn between keeping my aunt from suffering and doing the lawful thing. My aunt shook her head hard for me not to give in. I continued, “doesn’t have any copies.”

  The scalpel in Freddie’s hand shook a tiny bit and he grinned as he lowered it once again to my aunt’s face.

  “No!” I strained against my ropes, but failed to do anything but move the chair a half inch.

  Marco, slouched against the door watching, stood at attention. In a flash he clamped onto Freddie’s forearm and stilled it. “Later. I heard something funny out front. Maybe we were followed.”

  Santore spun around to face the entrance. “Shit! You and Freddie go back to the office and take a look. I’ll check through the back door.” He tapped his gun against my chin. “I guess you both got a short reprieve. But don’t count on someone being here to save you. Probably a false alarm. Marco’s always a little jumpy before a kill.” He let loose with a nasty laugh before hustling out the back door.

  I was alone again with Aunt Lena. My mind spun. Maybe it was Bucanetti with the help he promised. If a shoot- out started, Santore and his creeps might use us as shields. Being a protective device wasn’t how I wanted to leave this place.

  “Aunt Lena, I’m going to get loose and then free you.” Her head bobbed in agreement.

  I bounced around as much as the ropes allowed, hoping to move the chair closer to the vinegar bottles I’d seen earlier. My head pounded and my breath was ragged, but fear drove me on. At last I was near enough. Now I needed to turn the chair slightly to grab a bottle. It took more time than I’d figured. My frantic movements had rotated the chair less than an inch.

 
; Desperate, I leaned over pushing against the rope, and head butted the bottle nearest to me. It wobbled like a bowling pin that’d been hit by a ball. I held my breath as the bottle tipped and crashed onto the cement floor. Vinegar everywhere as well as broken, sharp pieces of glass, perfect for cutting.

  Hope they didn’t hear the bottle break. To grab a shard of that glass I needed to be on my side. Excitement bubbled in me as I closed in on this one goal. I rocked sideways harder and harder. Sweat ran down my forehead into my eyes. Aunt Lena’s stifled cheers pushed me on. At last my chair tilted and fell on its side. Jostled and beginning to bruise, I stretched out my hands as far as the rope allowed. My fingers touched a piece of glass but couldn’t grab it. My wrists burned and bled, but I had to keep trying.

  I muffled a soft cry when my fingers made full contact with a glass fragment and, twisting my hands until I thought my wrists would snap, I set about slicing through the rope. While I whispered a disjointed prayer for deliverance, the rope fell from my one hand. I dropped the glass and pulled at the knot until I could slip my other hand free. The rope around my ankles took seconds to remove. My aunt’s muffled whoops of joy drove me and at last I heaved myself from the chair.

  Moving fast, I grabbed the handle on one of the jumbo metal cans of olive oil. “Aunt Lena, I’ll untie you, but I have something to do before they come back.” I opened the can and spread the greasy stuff all over the floor by the door Santore would use to return. I hoped he’d slip and fall, hit his head and knock himself out. On second thought, I’d take great pleasure in swinging a full can of oil at him to knock him out myself.

  The can empty, I rushed to my aunt and embraced her as best I could. Her eyes were red and swollen and I ached for every tear she must have shed. I put my finger to my lips so she wouldn’t give us away. Her skin around her mouth where they gagged her was so chapped and peeling, it hurt me to see it.