Free Momma Lupe, Book 1 in the Ty Connell 'Novella Series. A Mystery/Suspense Thriller. Cooking or killing -- Momma Had Her Funny WAys by Michael C. Hughes Page A

bay. They were seated in the empty bay facing the
entrance door to the house.
    "Nice place Vinnie's got here," the man said,
looking around with a touch of envy.
    "Yeah. Vinnie's been living beyond his means
for a long time. Probably what got him into this mess."
    "You think?"
    The other man merely grunted.
    "How come he alarms the sides and back but
not the front?" the second man asked.
    "Cause the guy gets about
five newspapers delivered in the middle of the night. Didn't you
see them all out there?" He lapsed into derisive mock baby-talk:
" But the l'il paper delivery guys was
setting off the l'il motion sensors every l'il hour between two and
six, and it was disturbing his l'il sleep .
What crap!” he said, breaking out of the baby-talk. “Anyways, he’s
got the front sensors shut off. He never got around to wiring the
garage."
    "And you know all this how?" the other
whispered.
    "Ma. She done her homework.
'Course wasn't that much homework to do. All she had to do was call
Paulie. Paulie knows the place. That Momma. She looks like a
harmless old bag but, man , she's one pazza manovella. Crazy in the head,”
he said, tapping his right temple to emphasize that Momma’s
reputation was that of a certified mental case. “They don't call her Momma Lupe for nothing. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong
side of her. You know she off-ed her old man, eh?"
    "No. Really ? Her old man? Why'd she do
that?"
    "Guess they had some difference of opinion
about how to run the business. Like I said, Ma's a stickler about
getting her own way."
    "How'd she do him?"
    "The old fashioned way. Rat
poison in his tourtiere . Like in the old movies. A bit at a time till it built up in
his system. Strychnine or whatever. He liked his garlic, so he
never noticed a thing. One day he just drops. Went down as natural
causes. A heart attack. She had him cremated before there was even
time to send out for marshmallows."
    The other man thought about that for several
moments.
    "I heard she's got two sons work with her.
Why didn't she use them for this?"
    "For a job like this?" the first man said
with obvious scorn. "She don’t trust those two to go for
coffee."
    The man then rose, crossed the garage to the
rear wall and cranked the window full open to create an out draft.
He returned and they lit up smokes.
    And they waited.
    About 8:30 they heard sounds of stirring from
inside the house and, half an hour later, Vincent Momesso entered
the garage from the door into the house. He hit the garage door
opener to go out and collect his papers, then started down the
steps with a yawn and a scratch at the bald spot at the back of his
head when he looked up and saw the two in the chairs.
    He froze.
    The lead man had weapon drawn.
    "Hey, Vinnie. How's things?"
    "What the hell's this ?" Momesso
demanded.
    "Vinnie, we ain't got time to chit chat," the
man said, standing and pulling out his phone and flicking it on
video. He held it out, in his left hand, a silenced 9 mm in his
right hand.
    "Vinnie, get on your knees."
    "What the —"
    "I don't want no trouble from you. I want to
get a statement and I don't want you jumping around on me, so get
on your knees."
    "This is bullshit …"
    "You're right," the gunman
said. "But I got my orders. On your knees. NOW !"
    Momesso reluctantly went down on his knees in
his expensive silk pajamas and housecoat on the grease-stained
floor.
    "What's this all about?
Who are you two? I
don't even know you
guys. Does Paulie know you're here?"
    "Paulie knows."
    "Did Paulie send you?"
    "No. Never mind about us.
Fact is, you took some merchandise didn't belong to you. Lots of it. And then, when
you was asked nicely many times to give it back or pay for it, you said some rude
things. That wasn't smart. Plus you went and smacked that hooker
around. Also not smart."
    Vinnie squinted at the two men.
    "Is this about Momma?"
    The gunman nodded.
    Vinnie was relieved. For a moment there he
thought he'd crossed one of his mob brothers somehow. He