Free Bake Me a Murder by Carole Fowkes Page A

in my reverie of what romance is for other people, I missed part of it. I did hear him ask if Aunt Lena would like to follow him into the break room to cut the cake.
    “Love to, Brian, but I better get back to Cannoli’s . I left Angie there by herself and I’m sure you’re very busy.”
    “Never too busy to show our appreciation to you, Lena. I’ll share this with the other officers.” He winked. “Maybe it’ll drum up even more customers for you.”
    Good thing nobody was watching me because my eyes were rolling like I was possessed. How could Corrigan be so charming and sweet to my aunt and about as pleasant as a painful boil to me?
    My aunt said her goodbyes and was headed toward the door when she turned and asked, “Claire, if it’s not too much trouble, could you work the counter at Cannoli’s next Wednesday? Angie will be off and we’re having ten women for a ‘Just Dessert’ party.”
    I looked away, but not before catching Corrigan staring at the cake. No doubt he was hiding a smirk that a dedicated private investigator, in the middle of a case, also filled in at her aunt’s pastry café.
    Aunt Lena was waiting for an answer. When I nodded, she addressed Corrigan. “Can you believe it? Not only does my niece have brains and, if she’d just dress nice, looks, but she helps her family. She’s loyal.”
    I felt like a dog in a shelter and Aunt Lena was trying to get me adopted. What next? Would she encourage Corrigan to check my teeth? I needed to get her to leave.
    “Come on, Aunt Lena. I’ll walk you to your car.”
     
    Thursday, 3:00 p.m.
    After my aunt left, I returned to the mug shots, but came up with a big zero. It was getting late and my belly let me know how displeased it was I hadn’t eaten a piece of Aunt Lena’s cake. Maybe if Corrigan heard the growls, he’d buy me a meal.
    I was walking out the interrogation room door and almost bumped into Corrigan. He was holding two diet sodas and takeout Chinese. The smell of sesame oil and soy sauce wafted in the air when he set it in front of me. He handed me chopsticks. “I was hungry and thought you might be, too.”
    “That’s sweet.” While my mouth watered, I wondered if he had an ulterior motive. Like a thousand more mug shots for me to view.
    As if to allay my suspicions, he pulled out a chair and sat next to me and opened the containers. “Staring at mug shots is tough. After a while everyone looks alike. Have something to eat and then call it a day.”
    “My eyes were starting to cross.” Although Corrigan was playing nice, I kept my guard up.
    He stared into his carton like the answer was written in rice and as casual as could be, said, “So how long are you going to carry a chip on your shoulder? I mean about you and me.”
    Like a wild animal finding themselves wrapped in a net, I growled. “Me? A chip? We’re sitting here, and up until now, having a pleasant meal. But you—”
    A sharp rap on the door stopped me in the middle of my verbal clawing. An officer opened the door and motioned for Corrigan. The look on Corrigan’s face reminded me of a boxer who’s rescued by the bell. He and the officer huddled and exchanged words.
    Their conversation finished, Corrigan turned to me. “That teenager you hired managed to pull strings. Pokov is being arraigned this afternoon.”
    For a moment I sat there, stunned but realized quickly I needed to get downtown. After I’d dumped the leftovers out, I hustled to my car and made it to the twelfth floor of the Justice Center. I sat on the last bench in the back of the courtroom and looked around until I spotted Ed.
    The judge announced a tattooed older woman’s bail and she was led away. Merle and his lawyer, Harold, were up next. My stomach crashed into my throat as I realized how young Harold looked. Worries about his ability to handle Merle’s case expanded like an overinflated tire. I pressed my knuckles against my mouth.
    After the prosecuting attorney had his say, it was