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www.CaroleFowkes.com
Category:
Mystery/Suspense
Publisher: Ink Lion Books
ISBN-10: 1523317833
Type: Fiction
Pages: 277
Copyright: January, 2016
ISBN-13: 9781523317837
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
PI Claire DeNardo is afraid of lots of things, but she forges ahead to solve a murder when her beloved Aunt Lena is in danger.
Private Investigator Claire DeNardo, visits her Aunt Lena's cafe, Cannoli's, and discovers a romance brewing between her aunt and a new customer. Claire's surmises that her aunt's new boyfriend is lying about his identity prove solid when he's found murdered at the cafe. Claire ignores the warning of Police Detective Brian Corrigan and delves into the dead man's life. In the process she realizes her aunt may unwittingly possess what the killer wants. And it's not her tiramisu recipe.
Excerpt
“Sorry, Claire, but he doesn’t look like a ‘Larry’ to me.” My father, Frank DeNardo, folded the dish towel and set it on the blue and yellow Formica countertop he and my late mother had installed the year after they’d moved into this house. His bushy black-and-grey eyebrows knitted together.
“Maybe it’s a nickname.” I slouched on one of my dad’s checkered kitchen chairs in his circa 1970’s kitchen and loosened my belt, regretting the extra helping of hot, crusty bread I’d devoured. Not for the first time I wished I’d inherited my dad’s eat-it-all, never-gain-weight metabolism instead of my mother’s walk-by-food, gain-five-pounds one. At 5’2”, sixteen ounces made the difference between comfortably wearing my jeans and having those red wrinkle lines on my hips from the material digging in. Now that I was 31, it was harder to keep at 107 pounds.
My thoughts returned to my dad’s concerns. “Anyway, is that why you don’t like him?”
“Part of it. He’s hiding something and that makes him no good for your Aunt Lena.” He pointed his index finger to make his point. “Someone should warn her.” He stared right into my eyes and said, “Claire, honey…”
I leaned back and threw up my hands. “Oh no. Not me.” Aunt Lena, my late mother’s sister ran one of the best Cleveland area Italian bakeries and cafes, Cannoli’s, and a better person you’ll never meet. She had a temper, though, and when she got mad, junkyard dogs were less intimidating than her. But then, what if my dad was right and this guy, Larry, was up to no good? As a private investigator was I responsible for my relatives’ poor choices in dating? I didn’t want to be, but Dad’s instinct screamed that Larry was bad news. But the thought of my Aunt Lena’s wrath at my interference made me cringe. A compromise would be best.
I put my arms around my dad’s neck. “How about if I just check into his background? If it looks like your hunch is good, I’ll do some investigating. If he’s an undesirable, then I’ll break it to Aunt Lena. Over the phone, where she can’t get to me.”
My father’s face lit up. “Maybe you could get that police detective to help.”
A blank look on my face. “Which detective?”
My dad smirked as if, with my reddish-brown hair and dark eyes, I’d claimed to be Swedish. “You know. The one who took us to lunch. He helped you on that other case.”
My nose wrinkled. “Oh. Him.” Of course, Dad meant Brian Corrigan. That good-looking, blonde hair, blue-eyed unmentionable man who had flirted with me. That same detective who, after the Adler murder case, said he’d call. And never did. Now I’d rather eat mushy pasta than ask him for help. “I’m sure he’s busy, Dad. I don’t want to bother him.” Choke him, yeah. Bother him, no.
I don’t know if my dad figured it out, but he didn’t pursue the subject. Instead his face hardened, like when Johnny Zysinsky threw a rock and broke our front window. “Whatever way you want to handle it is fine by me. But don’t get taken in by Larry, or whatever his name is.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve learned to keep my distance from clients or people I’m investigating.” In fact, I planned to check out Larry from behind the counter at Cannoli’s. Safer that way.
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