Bake Me a Murder (10 page)

Yolanda sat on a chair by the sink, bent over, arms wrapped around herself. “You’re a private detective, right?” When I nodded, she said, “I want to hire you.”

Didn’t see that coming.
I cleared my throat to give me a second to ditch my shock.

“I don’t—”

She continued as if I hadn’t said a word. “Me and Coco worked together. The guy arrested for killing Coco. He hired you.”

“Still, how did you know to find me here, at
Cannoli’s
?”

Her eyes shifted toward the wall. “I went to your office, but you were coming out with some blonde guy, probably a cop. So I followed both of you to the police station and then here. When the two of you came in and you went behind the counter, I went shopping nearby to kill time until the cop left. Once he was gone, I figured I’d come in and get you to help me put my bags in my car and we’d talk. Great idea. Except there were too many cars and people around. I took off and, when it didn’t look like anyone would see, I came back around.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. There had to be more to this story. “Okay, let’s say your name is really Yolanda and I agree to work for you. What would that entail?”

She straightened. “Yolanda
is
my name. Yolanda Cruz. You’d protect me. Someone’s been following me, but I don’t know who.”

“Is he here? Did he follow you into
Cannoli’s
?” I resisted the urge to rush to the window and look outside.

She pulled her phone out. “I haven’t seen him since I pulled up to the police station. I did take a picture of him at the house. It’s kind of blurry, though.”

I squinted hard at the photo but it was so fuzzy it could’ve been Big Foot. “If you’re scared, why didn’t you talk to the cops? You were already there.”

She wrung her hands. “I can’t. Not yet anyway.” She grabbed my wrist. “Will you protect me or not?”

I shook away. “Why me? I’m not exactly built like a nightclub bouncer.”

“You have a gun and, I would think, the know-how to protect me. Plus you’re trying to find Coco’s killer. I’m pretty sure that means I can trust you.”

Maybe so, but could I trust her? “Give me the whole story.” I hate letting anyone down, but this woman’s case had ‘Do Not Take’ stamped all over it. But I could at least listen.

Her hands fluttered. “Okay. Like I said, me and Coco worked together. My boyfriend, Todd, I mean my ex-boyfriend, and me split. I had nowhere to go so Coco let me crash with her until I found a place to live. Moved out a couple of days before she…” Her voice broke and she clutched the seat of the chair. “She didn’t deserve to die.”

She blew her nose and, after a moment, continued. “Yesterday I went back to pick up some stuff I forgot. I still had the key Coco gave me. It was early so I didn’t think anyone would be around. I was already out of the house when some guy, the one in the picture, got there. I don’t know why, but I took his picture with my phone. He saw and took off after me. He’s been following me off and on since then. It’s like I think I’ve gotten rid of him and he turns up again. I don’t know how he does it.”

My breath grew shallow, and I pulled out Rico’s picture Gino had faxed me. “Is this the guy?”

“No.” She stared at it a bit longer. “Maybe. I don’t know. I was so scared…” She lowered her head and her hair fell over her face, hiding her expression. “I wasn’t supposed to be there, let alone have a key. Coco said the guy who owned the place would go crazy if he found out she was letting me stay there.”

“Did she say why he’d be angry?”

“I asked but she said it’d be better if I didn’t know.” She looked up and pushed her hair behind her ear. “Will you help me?”

Something was missing from her story. I took a wild stab. “What did you go back for?”

She leaned forward her hands wrapped together so tight her knuckles whitened. “If you agree to protect me, I’ll show you.”

Thursday, 11:00 p.m.

My curiosity was stoked, but so was my terror. I told myself it was Rico stalking Yolanda. Even handcuffed and muzzled, that man scared me. Sure, it was risky, but if Yolanda had proof Merle wasn’t Coco’s killer, I had to work with her.

I poured myself a glass of water and took a long drink, swallowing my fear. “After Coco’s murder, why didn’t you go to the police? Tell them what you knew. Maybe this guy you saw killed her.” My phone vibrated with a text from Alex. I ignored it.

“Like I said, I had to get some things out of that house.” She dug into her purse. “Before Coco died, she told me…” When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she dumped the contents on the counter. She went pale and her voice was almost a shriek. “Oh, God! No! It’s the wrong one!”

“What is?”

“The lipstick. From Coco’s place. But I grabbed the empty one. The one I need is still there.”

Feeling like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole, I asked, “What’s so important about a lipstick tube?”

She clamped her hands on both sides of her head, vise-like. Moaning she said, “I don’t know.”

I slapped my hands on the nearby counter. “What was in the lipstick tube besides lipstick?”

She bit one of her fingernails. “Is there anything like private investigator-client privilege?”

“No, not if it’s passed directly to me. But telling an attorney—”

She looked away. “Then I don’t know.”

The desire to shake her poured over me. “Do you want my help or not?”

“Okay. Coco called it ‘insurance’ and she said if anything happened I needed to hang on to it.” She dug in her purse again, came up empty, and sighed. “It’s not here. I’ve got to go back.”

My heart was pounding. “Did it contain names?”

She blew out a long, distracted breath. “Coco told me to call this guy if something happened to her. I wrote his name down, but.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t remember the name and forgot where I wrote it. How stupid can I be? But it’s probably at that house. I gotta go back.”

“You can’t. You said yourself it’s not safe. Why not give me Coco’s address and I’ll call the police. They can look for the lipstick and the guy’s name.”

She dug her fingernails into her thighs. “Not the police. You have to come with me. We’ll be in and out. I know right where the lipstick is. Maybe the note’s with it.”

I had no intention of stepping into the lion’s mouth. “Could it be Merle? Or Tony?”

She shook her head hard. “Like I said, I don’t remember.” She interlocked the fingers of both hands and hyperflexed them. “I may have been high when she told me.”

My throat tightened. Turning her down could mean I’d never be able to save Merle and keep Yolanda from disappearing. “Okay, but once you get them I’m calling the police. I don’t want anyone hurt.”

“Let’s get it first. Then we’ll talk about that.”

I felt like I was walking in quicksand. “We don’t have to go alone. How about I call Ed—he’s my backup—to meet us there.”

She considered my suggestion. “Okay. As long as he’s not a cop.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Tell you the truth, I never was much for depending on the cops and in this case…See, Coco was involved in some wild stuff and I sort of got pulled in.” She waved her hands back and forth like they were windshield wipers. “Only not as deep as Coco.”

This was sounding worse and worse. My whole life didn’t exactly flash before me. More like some of the highlights. “Before we go, at least let me give the address to my aunt in case something happens.”

She thought about it a moment, then told me.

Before leaving, I said goodbye to my aunt like it was the last time. “I’m going with Yolanda Cruz to her place on Carroll Court in Ohio City. Always remember, I love you.” I hugged her and whispered, “Call Corrigan right away.”

Her face paled. “What’s—”

I put my index finger to my lips as Yolanda came into the dining area with her car keys jangling. “Ready, Claire?”

Ready? What’s next? Aim. Fire?
“Sure, let’s go.”

Inside her car I called Ed. I didn’t give him all the details. Just enough so he’d join us.

“Is this girl legit, Claire?”

“I hope so.”

“Okay, I can be there in ten. Don’t go inside without me.”

“No worries about that.”

Drumming my fingers on the armrest, I glanced in the side mirror to see if anyone was following us, and hoped my aunt had gotten through to Corrigan. With some luck, he could be on Carroll Court before us. I wasn’t in any hurry to get to Coco’s house. “Slow down, Yolanda. We don’t want to beat Ed there.”

She paid me no mind.

About the time we drove up to the two-story, wood-frame house, I worried I’d start whimpering. But Yolanda was too busy with her own fears to notice mine. She parked the car and scanned the area. “Soon as Ed gets here, we’ll go in and out fast. Nobody’ll know we were here.” Her forced bravado didn’t make me any less terrified.

My hands shaking, I undid my seatbelt. Zero hour had come. Instead of showing up, though, Ed called. “Hey kiddo, flat tire. Ran over a honkin’ big pothole. Give me another twenty minutes and I’ll be there.”

Yolanda grabbed my forearm. “I heard him. We can’t wait.”

I could. “Get here as fast as you can.”

A wild look shone in Yolanda’s eyes, like a cheetah knowing it’s trapped. She opened her car door. “We’ve got to get it now, before my stalker comes back.” She folded her hands together as if praying. “Please.”

My eyes narrowed and suspicion spread over my terror. “Have you told me everything? What’s this about, besides lipstick?”

Yolanda released my arm. “Something Coco owed me for getting me involved. And something to help you prove who killed her.” She opened her door and waited for me to open mine.

Much as I wanted to stay in the car, I couldn’t let her go alone. If something happened, I might lose the chance to save Merle. Together we dashed into the house. I had my gun drawn and she had her phone in her hand.

“Wait for me!” My short legs were no match for Yolanda’s greyhound-like limbs.

I bounded up the steps to the porch in a vain attempt to keep up and tripped on the uneven boards. My knees took the brunt of my tumble. Leaning on the railing, I stood, cursing and rubbing my knees. Yolanda hadn’t waited for me and I limped into the house in search of her. “Yolanda! Where are you?”

No response. Thinking she was upstairs and hadn’t heard me, I climbed the steps. Nowhere to be found.

Goosebumps formed on my arms. A gun fired and a door creaked open. I ran back down the stairs with my gun in my hand and skidded to a stop. The side door was ajar. What made me gasp was seeing Yolanda slumped on the kitchen floor with her back against the wall.

I spun around, my gun jiggling in my hand. Nobody there. I took a quick peek outside the door, but saw no one. When I squatted next to Yolanda and tried to check for a pulse, she tipped over. Without thinking, I tried to catch her and her blood smeared across my chest and arms. Yolanda was dead.

Chapter Ten

M
y fingers fumbled, but I managed to call 911. With a slippery grip on my gun, I searched for her phone. My eyes darted everywhere but it was nowhere in sight.

Thursday, 11:45 p.m.

“Police. Open up.” The pounding grew louder.

I made a beeline for the front door and flung it open. A pair of uniformed cops stood, ready for action, guns drawn.

The uniformed cop’s eyes took in my bloody clothes and my gun. The older of the two, voice calm, said, “Put the gun down, Ma’am.”

Lowering my weapon onto the floor, I propped myself up against the hallway wall. “Yolanda’s dead. In the kitchen.” I couldn’t say anything else at that moment, being too occupied with not vomiting.

The younger cop dashed past me, in search of the body. He yelled back to his partner. “Possible homicide. Call an ambulance.”

My next words didn’t help alleviate the older cop’s suspicions. “The killer escaped through the side door.”

The older cop squinted, his gun on me. “And you just happened to be here when the victim was shot?” He grabbed his handcuffs. “Put your hands behind your back.”

My voice grew high-pitched. “You don’t understand.” Panic made my brain fuzzy and rational thoughts vanished.

His partner returned just then. He was finishing up a call on his radio. “Medical Examiner and forensics are on their way. We’re supposed to take a statement from the
witness
.”

“Witness? Who says?” The older cop didn’t lower his gun or put the handcuffs away.

A siren blared, grew closer until finally the source arrived. Corrigan rushed through the door. “The gun and cuffs aren’t needed, officer. Ms. DeNardo isn’t a suspect; she’s the witness.” While the cop holstered his gun, Corrigan came to my side. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No.” My relief at seeing Corrigan didn’t alleviate my feeling of uselessness. I hadn’t seen the killer. To make it worse, my reason for being here that was anything but clear and above board. It was like a bad movie where the plot is too convoluted to follow.

Once the two cops had left the room to search for evidence, Corrigan stepped back and shook his head. “How do you do it, Claire? A woman’s dead and you’re here.”

Ignoring any sarcasm, I muttered something unintelligible, took a breath and tried again. “Yolanda Cruz, she stayed here with Coco. Someone killed her.” My eyes welled up and my knees buckled. If Corrigan hadn’t caught me I would have landed face down on the wooden floor.

His voice turned gentle. “Let’s get you a chair.” He got me a chair. “Now, do you need some water or something?”

What I needed was a new career.
“No. Thanks.” I peered at my bloody blouse. “Just a shower and clean clothes.” My voice was about to break.

“Okay, Claire, before I check the body, tell me what you’re doing here.”

In halting sentences I explained everything, even including the lipstick tube. At the end of my story, I gulped air and whispered, “If I hadn’t fallen I’d have found her sooner. She’d still be alive.”

“You’d most likely both be dead. Now, don’t move.” Corrigan squeezed my hand. “I’ll be back quick as I can.” He disappeared into the kitchen.