Bake Me a Murder (6 page)

The kid stuck out his hand. “Harold Goldfarb. We spoke earlier.”

My eyes widened. “You’re Harold Goldfarb, the attorney?” I managed an uneasy smile. “Sorry, I pictured you differently.”
Like twenty years older.

He laughed. “Everyone does. But I can assure you, no matter appearances, Mr. Pokov will get the best defense possible.”

How was I going to explain choosing someone to defend Merle whose voice had probably just changed? What was Alex thinking when he assured me Goldfarb was one of the best?

“Shall we go in?”

I nodded and hoped maybe I’d wake up and realize this nightmare was because I’d eaten one too many éclairs. I should have checked this guy out myself. Instead, I’d forgotten that the ‘I’ in PI stood for investigator.

Harold’s bouncy step contrasted with my shuffle. I felt ancient next to him. Ancient and stupid. I’d been right telling Merle I couldn’t help him.

Harold Goldfarb and I both identified ourselves and were escorted to a room with a closed door. The officer with us knocked and opened it. I tried to see in, but the cop’s body blocked my view and announced Harold’s presence. He ignored mine.

Before I could amend that slight, Harold crossed in front of me, charged into the room and said, “Gentlemen, I’m Merle Pokov’s attorney. Has my client been charged with anything?”

Corrigan, elbows bent and resting on the table, shirt sleeves rolled up, cocked his head. “Not yet.”

Harold strode into the interrogation room leaving me to hold the door open. “Then he’s done talking to you. Let’s go, Mr. Pokov.”

Corrigan muttered something and dismissed Merle, but Merle didn’t move. His eyes darted to me. When I nodded my agreement, he followed Harold out of the room, his gait so unsteady I wasn’t sure he’d make it to the hallway.

Eyes burning into my back forced me to turn around. Corrigan slouched back in his seat, one arm slung over the back of his chair. “Did you raid the high school for that kid?”

If I’d hoped to get out of here without Corrigan’s snide remarks, he’d stomped that desire. “Very funny. He happens to come highly recommended.”

He snorted. “By who? His homeroom teacher?”

As usual, no comeback came to mind so I spun on my heels to follow Harold and Merle. They planned to discuss the case back at Harold’s office.

“Ms. DeNardo, you’re welcome to come too, but I’d like some time alone with my client first.”

“Thanks, but I have to go back to my office anyway. Someone’s faxing me a picture of the victim’s, uh, Coco’s former boyfriend.”

Merle looked like a guy who’d been hit by a tornado. But Harold strutted along, as self-possessed as a new
-
age Napoleon. “Mr. Pokov, why don’t you and Ms. DeNardo catch up while I get my car?”

Once Harold was out of hearing distance Merle, his bloodshot eyes following his new attorney, asked, “Are you sure this guy knows what he’s doing? He doesn’t look old enough to drive let alone be a lawyer.”

I held up my hand and said what I feared I’d be repeating. “He came highly recommended.”

Merle rubbed his drawn face. “It’s my neck in the noose. I hope whoever recommended Junior wasn’t pulling your leg.”

I hoped so too.

Wednesday, 2:00 p.m.

Rico’s picture lay in the receiving tray of my office fax machine. The guy had the looks of a matinee idol from the silent movie era. Thick, black hair combed back, smoldering dark eyes and full lips curved into a smile that could set the most jaded woman’s heart fluttering. No mystery as to Coco’s attraction to the man.

My phone rang. Gino. “Claire? Did you get Rico’s picture?”

“Yes, I have it in my hand. I can understand what Coco saw in him.”

He snorted. “If you say so. He’s also handy with a knife, or so I’ve been told. Rumor is, he carved up a rival pretty bad, but never got charged for it. And,” he paused as if waiting for a drum roll. “He jumped parole and disappeared.”

I’d been leaning against my desk but now I stood straight. “Any word on when?” If Rico was in town at the time of Coco’s murder, he’d certainly be a suspect.

“Landlord claims Rico hasn’t been around for at least three weeks.”

“Enough time to find Coco and kill her. Great work, Gino!” I stammered, “Of course, you know how to do this. I mean, you were my boss…”

“It’s okay, Claire. Anything else I can do? I forgot how much I enjoy the chase. Gets my blood flowing.”

“I think you’ve given me what I need. But if you hear anything else—”

“I’ll be sure to give ya a ring.”

My conversation ended with Gino and I called Corrigan to tell him about Rico. It went in to his voicemail. I started to leave him a message when another call beeped in. Tony, Coco’s brother. Without finishing my sentence, I switched to Tony’s call, but I missed it. He hadn’t left any message.

I grabbed the fax Gino had sent and headed out. I turned around and rummaged in my refrigerator. I’d stop at West City Lounge, give Eric the manicotti my father had made and show Rico’s picture around. Then let Corrigan know what I’d learned.

I spotted Eric mulling around the doorway of the lounge. He looked like he was losing weight. Pity stabbed me in the heart and I was glad I’d brought the manicotti with me. I wondered how to give it to him without it sounding like charity.

“Hi Eric.” I shifted the aluminum pan a bit. “I don’t know if you like manicotti, but I’m, um, trying to keep my girlish figure. Would you help me out and eat it?”

His eyes opened wide and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sure?”

I nodded and held it out to him.

“Thanks.” He took it and tore off the foil covering the pasta tubes. “Looks great.” He balanced the pan with one hand and grabbed my arm with his other. “Hey, anything new on Coco’s killer?”

He reminded me of a dog anticipating a treat for performing a trick. Goose bumps formed on my arms. I hoped it was just excitement over the manicotti.

His breath smelled of cigarettes and liquor and I backed away. “Nothing yet.” I showed him the picture of Rico. “Have you seen this guy before?”

Eric studied it, a scowl on his face. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I have.”

My skin tingled. “Where and when?”

“Came by the same day as Coco.” He rubbed his forehead, trying to clear the fogginess. “No. The day before that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. He strolled in here like he owned the place. Asked the bartender something and left. I remembered him because he pushed me out of his way so hard I almost stumbled.”

“Did you tell Detective Corrigan about this guy?”

He shook his head. “Truth is, it didn’t occur to me.”

“It’s okay. I’ll let him know when I’m done here.”
He’ll probably take the information and lecture me again about staying out of the whole thing.

I continued into the bar to see what else I could discover. A youngish woman with tattoos up both arms and a nose ring wiped off the bar. “What can I get for you, hon?”

I introduced myself, showed her Rico’s picture, and asked if she’d seen him.

“I remember him. He wanted to talk to Tony, but Tony wasn’t here. So the guy demanded Tony’s address, which I didn’t give him. Guy was definitely a hottie. Hot tempered, too. Thought he’d hit me when I wouldn’t help him. In the end he just stomped off.”

“Did you tell Tony?”

“Yeah, but when I told him the guy hadn’t given his name or why he wanted to talk, Tony shrugged it off. Said there wasn’t much he could do about it.” She tilted her head and looked over my shoulder. “Funny. Even though Tony blew it off, he looked pissed, like maybe he
did
know who it was.”

It was time to pay a visit to Tony again. Maybe he was more concerned about Rico’s visit than he let on to the other bartender. With some coaxing, Marlene gave me Tony’s address.

I thanked her, exited the lounge, and called Corrigan.

When he answered I told him what I’d learned about Rico and his visit to the lounge. “If he was in town, given his history with Coco, he should be a ‘person of interest’, shouldn’t he?”

“Rico violated his parole so we need to find him. Once we do, we’ll see if he has an alibi for the time of Coco’s death. If he does, he goes back to Florida. Don’t go after him yourself. He’s a dangerous felon.”

“You don’t believe he killed Coco?”

Corrigan hesitated. “At this point—.”

A muffled voice interrupted us and Corrigan responded with, “Yeah, be right there.” To me he said, “Claire, thanks for the info. I mean it. But I gotta go.” Before I could say anything more, Corrigan was gone.

He hadn’t sounded curious enough about Rico to satisfy me. But I’d bet my non-existent bank account on Rico as the killer.

On my way to Tony’s place, I texted Ed with his address and requested backup. When I got no response, I was ready to retreat. Only the thought of Merle in prison kept me on my way.

Tony lived in a three story walk-up in Birdtown, an aging section of Lakewood, a Cleveland suburb. I’d reached the third floor landing when I heard men yelling. One sounded like Tony. Not wanting to get in the middle, I pressed against the hallway wall, pulled out my gun, and poked my head around the corner far enough to see what was happening.

There he was, standing in his apartment doorway, poised like wrestler ready to pounce, tapping a thick steel pipe against the palm of his hand. “Get the hell away from me before I call the cops.”

The dark-haired man Tony was yelling at held up his arms and took a few steps backwards. “Hey man, I don’t want no trouble with you.” He spoke with a heavy Latino accent. “Just want what’s mine, you know?” Tony cursed and slammed the door in the man’s face. The guy pounded on the door but when he didn’t get any response, he spun around. It was Rico, and he was strutting down the hallway toward me.

My heart jumped into my throat. I ducked, feeling like the groundhog that sees his shadow. I reached for my phone but it was too late. Rico was in front of me.

Chapter Six

“
C
hica
. ¿
Que pasa
?” Rico’s smile was charming and dangerous at the same time.

I cleared my throat. “Rico Carrreras?”

His eyes dropped to my gun and his smile became less enchanting. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Claire, a private investigator.”

“You want to investigate me? You, like, a bounty hunter?” His gaze sizzled and I felt like my clothes were disintegrating.

I backed up and hit the wall. My gun shook. “I’m investigating Coco Sanchez’s murder.”

He dropped the cocky façade. “Murder? Someone killed her?” He stepped toward me, his stare pinning me to the wall.

My nails dug into the plaster. “Last evening.”

He mumbled something to himself in Spanish and to me said, “You better not be lying to me,
chica
. Her brother, that
pendejo,
didn’t say nothing about it.”

I dropped my shoulders, trying to appear unafraid. “Why did you come to Cleveland?”

“Coco and me, we were good together. Then she took something and I wanted it.” He placed his hands on the wall, trapping me and he leaned in. “Maybe you know where it is.”

My throat tightened. “I don’t even know
what
it is.”

He dropped his arms. “Then you and me ain’t got no business.” He spun around and headed toward the stairs.

Sad to say, although I wasn’t brave enough to follow him, I did the next best thing.

My fingers hit the wrong number twice calling Corrigan. I stopped, took a deep breath and tried once more. Success. My words ran together. “Rico Carreras just left 2525 Robin Way, Lakewood.”

“Okay.” Corrigan passed the information on then said, “Claire? “We’re putting out an APB on him. Don’t hunt him down yourself.”

For once, I agreed with Corrigan. I slid my gun back into my purse. Before he could add anything else, I spotted Tony standing in his apartment doorway, steel pipe still in his hand. “Thanks, Brian.” I hung up and made my way down the hall. I had a suspicion Tony knew more about his sister’s recent activities than he’d let on. For Merle’s sake, I intended to find out.

Tony gave me a mind-your-own-business look. “You didn’t need to come here.”

“You called me. Remember?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

He didn’t seem to hear me. “If Coco had just listened to me…” He hit the pipe against the wall leaving a dent where it had landed.

“Rico was after something. Do you have it? Is that why you called me?”

“He was after Coco’s phone, but I don’t got it.”

“Do you know why he wanted it?”

“No idea but Rico wanted her phone pretty bad.”

I wondered if Rico had wanted the phone bad enough to kill her for it.

I was just about to leave when Tony, under his breath said, “I called you to ask you to find the real killer. For Coco. And me.”

Wednesday, 5:00 p.m.

My next stop was the police station. I almost made it inside when Ed appeared and took my arm. “Cops arrested Merle about ten minutes ago.”

“What does Corrigan have now that he didn’t before?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Merle’s kid lawyer is with him now.”

I rushed in, got past the front officer, and spotted Corrigan sipping coffee at his desk. He watched me over the rim of his cup. “Not surprised to see you here. You must have heard we arrested Pokov. Hi, Ed.”

I spun around to see Ed, coming behind me. He nodded to Corrigan.

I templed my hands to stop them from waving around. “Did you forget about Rico Carreras? Or do you think he’s just in town for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”

Corrigan gripped his cup so tight I thought he’d crush it. “No, I didn’t. Just a matter of time before we catch him and see if he has an alibi for the time of Ms. Sanchez’s murder. Don’t worry, we’ll cover all ground, even though I think we’ve already got our perp. I intend to investigate this case to the fullest extent.” He paused and nonchalantly added, “By the way, we matched some dirt under Ms. Sanchez’s nails to what Pokov had on his clothes.”