A Season for Killing Blondes Read online

  The officer reluctantly let the two women pass. They hugged me close.

  Maria shook her head. “What a disaster! We were driving by and saw all the commotion.” She frowned. “Where’s the dead woman? Have they taken her already? Where’s Paolo?”

  Maria and Rosa didn’t waste any time on pleasantries.

  “The police roped off the area, and a few officers are in the back alley attending to the body,” I explained. “Carlo is taking Uncle Paolo’s statement. He plans to talk with all of us.”

  Rosa’s eyes widened. “Carlo Fantin? Is he handling all of this?” I nodded, and she continued. “I hear he’s one of the best in that department. And he’s available.” She winked at me.

  “It’s too bad you had to meet him like this, but you look beautiful,” Maria said. She waved her hand toward my mother, aunt, and Sofia. “All of you look beautiful today.”

  “Gilda insisted on suits,” Sofia said.

  I had only made the suggestion, but after a few initial protests they had relented. Sofia wore a pink tweed suit and dusty rose blouse that complimented her dark hair and light olive skin. My mother and Aunt Amelia had selected shifts in navy blue and purple with matching three-quarter length jackets. I had stuck to my zebra colors and topped my light wool black suit with a cream blouse.

  “You look like Ginas,” Maria said.

  It was one of Maria’s best compliments, and she did not give it too freely. Gina Lollobrigida was her favourite Italian actress, and Maria believed very few women could compete with the raven-haired, voluptuous beauty. We all laughed and felt the tension breaking.

  “I wonder why Carlo is taking so long with Paolo?” Aunt Amelia asked.

  “He’s a good man, and he’ll get to the bottom of this.” Uncle Paolo walked toward us. He nodded to Aunt Amelia. “Detective Fantin wants to see you next. Keep it short and don’t go on and on about the figs.”

  Aunt Amelia lowered her gaze and walked quickly toward the middle office.

  “What’s this about the figs? I thought they had arrived yesterday?” Rosa asked.

  Maria jumped in. “Did someone take the figs?”

  Both sisters shared the gossip gene and delighted in being the first to share news—good and bad—with the rest of the Italian community. And they didn’t hesitate to add their own spin on the situation. While I didn’t approve of Aunt Amelia’s comments, I didn’t want everyone in Sudbury knowing that her primary concern was the stuffed figs.

  I walked over to the Italian corner, uncovered the first cart and wheeled it over. I motioned to Maria and Rosa. “Please, help yourselves.”

  My mother flashed me a grateful smile and relaxed her tensed up shoulders. Sofia joined me, and we watched as Uncle Paolo and the women started eating the stuffed figs and pastries. The telephone continued to ring, but I let all the messages go to voicemail. No point repeating the same message over and over again. My open house was canceled, and I had no idea when I would be ready to take clients. I sighed. “I wonder how much longer this will take.”

  “I can’t see Carlo spending too much time with any of us,” Sofia said. “Except you, of course.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “You’re the last person who saw Carrie Ann before—”

  “You think she was actually killed here?” I struggled with the thought of Carrie Ann dying right after leaving my office. So many negative scenarios whirled through my mind. Was someone lurking in that back alley? Would I have to make sure my clients used only the front entrance? What about the evening workshops I hoped to facilitate?

  Sofia shook her head. “Why would someone go to all the trouble of killing her someplace else and then depositing her in one of your Dumpsters? The murderer would have to drag her into a car, pull her out again, and then throw her into the Dumpster. I don’t think he would have gone to all that trouble.”

  “You’re so certain it was a man?”

  Sophia narrowed her eyes in doubt. “You think a woman could have lifted Carrie Ann into the Dumpster? She’s thin, but I’m sure she weighs at least one hundred pounds.”

  “You have a point, but I can’t imagine any man killing Carrie Ann.” I had a flash. “Wait a minute. A woman had to be involved. No man would have fussed with her hair and scarf.”

  Sofia lowered her voice. “I wouldn’t be too keen about sharing that particular insight with anyone else, especially Carlo.”

  Did she think that I could be implicated?

  Sofia started to speak, but stopped when Aunt Amelia emerged from the middle office. Sofia immediately went to her side. “Ma, are you okay? What happened in there?”

  “Carlo was so nice, but I…I was so nervous. I hope I answered everything okay. I don’t want to get into any trouble.” Aunt Amelia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not a suspect in this case. What did Carlo say?”

  “He wanted to know what Paolo did this morning…what I did…I don’t know…” She moaned, “No more questions. My head hurts too much. Oh…and he wants to see you or Assunta next.”

  “I’ll go.” Sofia headed toward the office.

  Maria and Rosa came to Aunt Amelia’s side and persuaded her to sample the pastries. I smiled as she bit into a stuffed fig and exclaimed about it.

  My mother left the group and joined me. “You’re starting to fade away. You didn’t have any lunch, and you’re thinking too much again.”

  Bone tired and hungry, I considered helping myself to a pastry, but I didn’t want any sugar in my system. I nodded toward Aunt Amelia. “Someone made a quick recovery.”

  Her lips tightened. “She’s fine as long as she’s the center of attention and doesn’t have to deal with any unpleasant situations. It would be another story if this were Sofia’s office.”

  “Is she sharing Aunt Matilda’s secret recipe for amaretto cookies? I thought you had all been sworn to secrecy.”

  “She’s like a runaway train when she gets started. What that woman will do for attention is beyond belief. Especially on a day like—” Her eyes filled with tears, and her right hand shook as she reached for a tissue.

  I needed a distraction. Anything at all to take my mother’s mind off the dead body. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with all those pastries. I guess I’ll have to freeze them tonight.”

  My mother perked up. “Don’t worry about the pastries. Amelia and I have already discussed it. We’ll put aside three platters for Paolo’s birthday on Saturday and freeze the rest.” She lowered her voice. “I’m so sorry we talked you into spending all that money. I had no idea it would cost so much.”

  “It’s all right, Ma.” The money had been spent, and while the pastries wouldn’t be eaten today, I knew that my mother and aunt would make sure that they didn’t go to waste.

  Sofia appeared at my side. “Aunt Assunta, Carlo’s ready for you now.”

  I waited until my mother had disappeared from sight before speaking with Sofia. “How did it go?”

  Sofia shrugged. “Pretty tame. I gave him a quick rundown of what happened this morning. Oh, and Carlo wanted to know about my last encounter with Carrie Ann.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “Oh, I see…saw her all the time. I ran into her at the grocery store, the malls, Curves.” Sofia tugged at her waistband. “I’ve been going for over a year, and I’ve barely lost an inch off my waist. Last week, Carrie Ann bragged about losing three inches off her waist.”

  “You’ve never mentioned any of this before.” I wondered when Sofia found time for Curves. Her days were booked solid with decorating, planning church fundraisers, and at least one dinner party a week.

  “It’s been kind of hard to talk about normal, everyday stuff since you won the lottery.”

  I sensed an edge to her voice and decided not to say anything.

  Sofia gestured toward her mother. “She’s having the time of her life. No moaning or complaining about aches and pains or even d
ead bodies.” She checked her watch. “I think my parents are about ready to go home. Rosa and Maria can take your mother home.” Sofia moved toward the group. “It’s time to go.”

  Uncle Paolo frowned. “Did Carlo say we could go? Who is he talking with now?”

  Sofia pointed toward the side office. “He’s talking with Aunt Assunta. He said everyone can leave except Gilda.”

  Maria gasped and pressed her hand against her chest. “Maybe you should have a lawyer with you.”

  Sofia snorted. “Gilda has nothing to worry about. This is her office. Carlo wants to ask her a few more questions, that’s all.” She nodded toward Rosa. “Could you and Maria take Aunt Assunta home?”

  “Of course,” Rosa said. “Ah, there she is now. Assunta, we’ll take you home.”

  My mother turned toward me. I nodded and waved her away. “Don’t worry about me, Ma. Go ahead with Rosa and Maria. I won’t be long.”

  Chapter 3

  Carlo had removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt. His tie lay on the desk. The rumpled look suited him to a tee. And his large black-rimmed glasses accentuated those unforgettable blue eyes. Bluer than blue. Sky blue. Cornflower blue. Robin’s egg blue. Years ago, Adele Martino and I had come up with thirty-seven descriptions of Carlo Fantin’s eyes when Mrs. Gillespie assigned one of her Monday morning English composition exercises. As I tried to recall the other thirty-three, I realized that Carlo was speaking to me.

  “…he’ll be taking notes as well.”

  Darn! Another officer in the room, and I had missed his name and more importantly, his title. Was he a detective or a constable? I’m sure Sofia would know. In the meantime, I better stop daydreaming and start listening. I nodded in the direction of the beefy officer. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Expertly trimmed moustache. A big bear of a man who reminded me of Magnum P.I.

  Carlo cleared his throat. He was ready to get down to business. Police business. “It appears that Carrie Ann was your first client. You haven’t opened this office for business yet. How did that happen?”

  My heart raced as I spoke. “After Sofia and my mother left…I’m not certain about the time…um…I…I heard a knock at the front window. I looked up and saw Carrie Ann. Hadn’t seen her in ages.” I paused and then added, “Still wearing the same pageboy hair style and that blonde color—”

  Carlo waved his hand. “Stick to the facts, please.”

  I felt myself reddening as those piercing blue eyes bored right through me. “Oh, sorry. Um, I let Carrie Ann in.”

  “And?” Carlo said when I hesitated.

  I shrugged. “We just talked for a while, then, uh…” I closed my eyes and tried to recall the conversation. But nothing concrete came to mind, only Carrie Ann’s infectious laugh and bubbly compliments about the decorating scheme. When I opened my eyes, the other officer offered me a water bottle. I thanked him and gulped down half the contents.

  “You scheduled her for a session tomorrow morning,” Carlo said as he held up my appointment book. “Carrie Ann is…was considered one of the best interior designers in town. Why would she need counseling from you?” His dark brows drew together in a suspicious frown. “Were you planning to tell her to give it up?”

  “For your information, Detective, career counselors don’t tell people what to do with their lives. We provide a sympathetic ear and help them gather all the relevant facts before making their final decisions.” I knew that I was using my teacher voice, but I didn’t care one bit. I was passionate about my new business, and I didn’t want people getting the wrong impression about career counseling. I caught a glimpse of the other officer wiggling his eyebrows and trying to suppress a laugh. If Magnum was anything like some of my former students, he would mimic me afterward and tease Carlo about being reprimanded.

  Carlo grunted and waved his hand again.

  Bits and pieces of yesterday’s conversation started to come back. I took several deep breaths and continued, “I remember her glancing at her watch and mumbling about having to be somewhere before six. She then headed out the back door.”

  Carlo flipped through his notes. “You said she knocked on the front window and came in the front door. Why would she need to go out the back way? Did she park back there?”

  What did it matter whether she came in the front entrance or back? “I assume she parked out front. She had just come from the bank so it wouldn’t make much sense to park in the back alley.”

  “Did she give you any idea where she was going?” Carlo asked, moving closer to me, so close I could smell his aftershave.

  “All I remember is that she needed to get there by six.”

  Carlo scribbled something and underlined it for emphasis. He spoke to the officer, “Get someone to check all the offices within walking distance first thing tomorrow morning.” He fixed his eyes upon mine. “What did you do after Carrie Ann left?”

  “I needed to get to the bank before six. So, I grabbed my purse and walked over.”

  “What about the doors?”

  “I locked the front door after me. The back door locks automatically.”

  “Who served you?”

  “Karen Anderson. We sat in her office for about ten minutes…no, it must have been longer than that because the bank was closed by the time I left.” More details rushed through my mind. “Karen accompanied me to the door, unlocked it and let me out. When I got back here, I started to check my email messages. Sofia called and told me to leave the office.”

  Carlo raised one eyebrow. “Does she do that often?”

  Warmth rushed up to my cheeks, and I knew that they had turned a deep shade of pink. I didn’t want Carlo to know about my tendency to obsess over every detail, but again I had no choice. “Sofia wants me to lead a more normal life, so she calls or drops by before six. But it must have been later than that yesterday.”

  He pointed to the telephone.

  “I erase all my calls before I leave each day.” I saw him frowning, and I tensed up again.

  “We need to account for every minute after Carrie Ann left.” He mumbled, “I’ll have to give Sofia a call.”

  “Do you think she was murdered yesterday afternoon…right after she left here?” My stomach churned at the thought of murderers lurking in the back alley. Would I ever feel safe again?

  “Right now, I’m considering all possibilities.” He sighed in exasperation. “Do you remember anything…anything at all…that could pinpoint the time?”

  I racked my brain for details and came up with one morsel. “I didn’t check the time when I returned from the bank, but I spent about fifteen minutes answering emails before I left the office.” I perched on the edge of my chair and accessed my email account. I scrolled down through the list of sent messages. “There it is. My last message yesterday at six forty-seven.”

  Carlo continued to write in his black notebook. “Where did you go afterward?”

  “Uh…I went…uh…home and then grabbed a quick supper…yoga.” I couldn’t believe how incoherent I sounded. Had I lost the ability to speak in complete sentences?

  He gave me an appraising once-over but said nothing. Magnum smiled and wiggled those eyebrows again. Was he flirting or playing good cop? Either way, I decided not to make eye contact. I had enough problems recalling details and didn’t need any more distractions. “The class ended at nine, and I joined a couple of the ladies for coffee at Tim Hortons.”

  “I will need to know the location of the yoga class and which Tim Hortons you visited.”

  “The yoga studio and the Tim Hortons are in the Canadian Tire plaza. Jean Taylor is my instructor, and I had coffee with Laura Jamieson and Adele Martino.” My hands trembled as I reached for my purse. I didn’t want to involve anyone else in this nightmare, but I didn’t have much choice in the matter. A murder had been committed and, as Sofia had pointed out, I was probably the last person Carrie Ann spoke with before her tragic death.

  “Don’t worry about that now. I ne
ed to hear what happened this morning.”

  “I don’t know what you mean—”

  “Well, for one thing, you discovered a dead body. That bears some mention.”

  I must be turning every shade of red today, and I couldn’t escape from those icy blue eyes. I wasn’t at all comfortable with Carlo’s detective persona, but I had to answer all his questions and somehow get through this inquisition. “I got here about nine. Sofia had just arrived. Our mothers and Uncle Paolo came earlier. I’m not sure what time they came.” I added, “They created an Italian corner out front.”

  “Yeah, I saw that.” A hint of a smile crossed his face as he checked off a few items in his book. “Does anyone else have a key to this office?”

  “Just Sofia. She’ll be helping out for the next month or so.”

  His eyes widened. “Is Sofia a career counselor?”

  “No, she’ll be helping with reception and general office duties. And she’s done all of the decorating.”

  “Hmm.” Carlo raised his eyebrows as he glanced around the room.

  Sofia had worked her magic and created the perfect backdrop for ReCareering. She had allowed only dusty roses, mint and sea foam greens, and varying shades of ivories. Mint and sea foam greens. Thanks to Sofia, I could now—at age fifty-one—differentiate between the two shades. For the furniture, she had insisted on light oak, antique oak to be more exact. But the Georgia O’Keeffe prints on the wall had been my idea. I loved the feisty artist and hoped her bold prints would inspire my boomer clients to shake up their lives.

  “Gilda! Gilda! Are you with us?” His eyes darkened with annoyance. I had to stop daydreaming and focus.

  “You had just arrived this morning,” Carlo prompted.

  “Oh, yes. We divvied up the duties. I finished getting my desk in order. Sofia organized folders for the guests. Uncle Paolo unpacked and assembled some of the chairs and tables that had arrived yesterday.”

  Carlo’s head shot up. “Furniture arrived yesterday. You didn’t mention that before.”