Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

I t's Sunday, the holiest day of the week, and yet, without hesitation, Niki and I drive down to Leeds in anticipation of doing the devil's work—eating fully loaded carbs. I mean fries.

And maybe if I'm lucky, I'll convince Frankie "The Bull" Santoro to pony up some cold, hard cash to my uncle so I won't have to put an end to his French fry making days. I have a feeling I know what Frankie and Peter had in common—their love of my uncle's money.

I've brought Watson along for the ride, but only because I did a little research and it turns out Frankie's joint boasts of being pet-friendly—at least out on the patio. And as much as I don't like the thought of freezing my tushy off in the elements, I like even less the thought of Watson whimpering and crying as he waits by the window all day for me to get home.

Okay, so he doesn't do that. He sits on the sofa and watches the Animal Channel all day while chewing down his kibble. He lives the life of a flatulent king. But I don't see why he should have all the fun, so I dragged him along to earn his keep. Besides, tonight is Sunday dinner. He needs to make room for my mother's lasagna. She makes sure his belly goes away full just like the rest of us.

Niki and I find ourselves standing outside Frankie's Bar and Grill right here in seedy Leeds. The autumn air is blustery, the dark sky is growing a grim shade of steel, and the scent of fresh burgers and fries permeates the air—and somehow absolves this place of every last sin.

The outside of the restaurant has all the charm of a back-alley dumpster with its flickering neon sign and grimy windows that look like they haven't been washed since the Clinton administration.

"I'm still mad at you," Niki chuffs my way before stealing Watson from my arms. "How could you go to a trunk sale without me? You know I'm a clothes horse."

"Then you would have fit right in," I say, giving Frank's place a sideways glance. "The theme seemed to be a bull in a china shop. And the bull just so happened to be Aunt Cat and Carlotta. But today we visit a true bull. Let's just hope he's not about to feed us a load of bull."

"Who cares?" Niki pats her belly. "As long as he feeds us those trash can fries, he can fib with the best of them."

"Yeah, well, I happen to need the truth."

I'm about to step inside when my phone pings and I glance at the screen.

"It's Cooper."

" Ooh , what does he want?" Niki cranes her neck to see for herself, but I pull it close to my chest. "A repeat performance of what the two of you did last night? Another bite of Effie pie? I bet he left his cuffs at your place and they're still attached to your bedpost."

"I'm going to cuff you ," I growl her way. "It was none of the above." I frown back at the screen. "He wants to know if I'm free for lunch." I shake my head at my phone. "He's never asked that once. I don't like this. It feels like a trap." I text back and let him know I'm out and about.

He texts right back.

Great. I can meet you wherever. I'm in Leeds. Where are you?

He tags it with a cute little winking emoji and now I know he's pulling my leg.

I gasp at the sight of the name of this smarmy town.

"I knew it," I hiss. "He's onto me. He's just trying to get me to admit that I'm about to shake down my new mark."

"I bet he doesn't know Frankie's your new mark."

"I don't know what he knows," I growl as I sink my phone into my purse. "But I'm about to learn a thing or two."

I lead the way and the three of us waste no time in stepping into Frankie's Bullpen Bar and Grill. The inside is just as seedy as the outside, with dim lighting that tries to hide the worst of the stains on the worn-out carpet and cracked leather booths. The air smells like a mix of greasy fries, cheap beer, and despair. It's a sharp contrast to what I was smelling outside, and now I'm starting to think I should end this trip by paying a visit to the burger joint across the street.

"Well, this is cozy," I mutter, glancing around at the assorted shady characters hunched over their drinks.

"Cozy if you're in prison," Niki whispers back, adjusting Watson in her arms. "But those trash can fries are still calling my name."

As we weave our way through the tables, ignoring the catcalls and leers from a few unsavory hoodlums, I spot a familiar face and freeze.

Detective Cooper Knox sits at a table near the back with a platter of fully loaded trash can fries in front of him, large enough to feed all of Vermont.

Both Niki and Watson waste no time going berserk at the sight as they quickly take a seat across from him and dig in.

"You knew I was coming," I say, narrowing my eyes at Cooper as I approach.

He shrugs, not even trying to hide his smirk. "I asked your brother Nico where you were, and he told me you were in the neighborhood."

"How would he know?" I chuff.

"That's easy," Niki says, looking bitter. "Both of our brothers are monitoring our locations at all times via our phones. Ask me how I know."

"Never mind," I huff, rolling my eyes.

Cooper points to the platter and grins my way. "You hungry?"

Niki doesn't need to be asked twice—or at all. She and Watson have already put away half of it.

"So, what brings you here, Detective?" I ask, trying to ignore how good those fries look. But it's no use. I sneak one off the tray and into my mouth and I swear I hear a choir of angels sing.

"I could ask you the same thing," he grumbles, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But I have a feeling it's the same reason I'm here. The Bull."

"Yeah, I need to speak with him," I say, glancing around the dingy bar. "Any idea where he is?"

"You need to speak with him?" Cooper rises from his seat and his stubbled cheeks get so close to mine that I can feel the heat emanating from him. And that spiced cologne puts my hormones right in the danger zone. He has no idea the effect he has on me.

His lips curve with a satisfied smile blooming ever so slowly.

Okay, so maybe he has some idea.

"I'll tell you what. I'll let you tag along on my surveillance," he whispers right over my lips. "You're lucky I'm nice."

"Yeah, well, I'm not nearly as nice as you are," I say. "Why don't you stay here and keep an eye on Niki and the pooch before one of these ruffians tosses a roofie in their trash can. I need to have a word in private with good ol' Frank."

I take off like a bullet and navigate my way to the front where the bartender tells me to head to the back office. Without hesitation, I dart down the dark hall of horrors with enough pictures of pin-up girls and sports cars to qualify as a frat house until I reach a door marked office .

I open it up, the lights are on, and there's a bloody butcher knife on the floor.

"Hey," I say, picking it up. "Is this what you call good restaurant hygiene? My sister and my favorite pooch are eating at this joint." I wag the knife at the man seated at the desk with his back turned to me. Judging by the way that rug of his is sitting cattywampus on his head, I know for a fact I'm talking to the Italian stallion that both Aunt Cat and Carlotta are hot to trot.

"Excuse me," I say, giving his leather chair a tap and the chair spins around. "I dare you to answer me."

A scream evicts from my throat.

Yes, it's Frankie "The Bull" Santoro, but judging by that crimson stain on his chest, he won't be answering me or anyone else ever again.

Frankie "The Bull" is dead.

"Effie?" Cooper thunders as he races in behind me.

He glances at the knife, then the deceased.

Suffice it to say, I've just secured my position on that murder board of his once again.

Go figure.