The Soggy Cannoli Murder by Black M.P

Author:Black, M.P.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MP Black Media
Published: 2023-04-03T00:00:00+00:00

10

The next morning, I’d hoped to beat Angelica to being the first in town, but standing outside Moroni’s, I could see the curtains were parted. I didn’t see her inside, but my gut told me she was already hard at work in the bakery out back. So did my nose: Wafts of baking cookies drifted out into the street.

Poor Angelica. The bakery was open 7 days a week. She worked and worked and worked — did she ever take a day off? Guilt tugged at my heart. I ought to be inside the bakery helping her on this Thursday morning, but I couldn’t: I had to solve this mystery and clear my name or I’d be baking cookies at the Wessex Correctional Facility.

A lone car floated down Garibaldi Avenue, and I ducked into the narrow alley between Moroni’s Italian Bakery and Carlo’s Restaurant. I waited for it to pass.

From my hiding place, I peered out across the street at Cafe Roma. Nothing happening at the corner of Poplar and Garibaldi. The crime scene tape was still in place and the cafe looked forlorn. I shuddered, remembering the body on the floor, the flames dancing from Mark’s back.

Before I left home, I’d put on a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. In my experience, this was how you kept a low profile. In an episode of Silver & Gold, Eve Silver had worn a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses when she trailed a suspect. Though, of course, that had been in the streets of San Francisco, not in small-town New Jersey.

I waited and watched. I yawned and wished I’d had the foresight to bring a cup of coffee. This stakeout stuff wasn’t as easy as on TV.

Finally, at 6:32 am, a person appeared in the distance. The slight limp told me who it was before I could clearly see her face. It was Maria. She walked at a steady, brisk pace, yet as she came closer, I could tell she was being careful not to put too much pressure on her bad foot. No doubt her doctor wouldn’t be impressed if he knew she still power walked every morning.

I hung back, waited, and watched as she passed on the opposite sidewalk.

Watching her, it occurred to me how easily someone could slip through the back of Cafe Roma without being seen. And slip out again. The killer, hearing me come, could have run fifty yards down Poplar and turned onto a side street, vanishing from view. Or simply hid behind the trash cans.

My legs felt rubbery, my knees wobbly with sudden fear. I steadied myself against the wall. I might have walked right past the killer. He might have watched me from behind the trash cans, then bolted before the cops arrived. He might have…

Enough. I cut off my thoughts. Did Eve Silver’s knees get wobbly? Did she waste time worrying about dangers in the past? Not when there was a mystery to solve in the present.

I took a deep breath and straightened up.

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