Bananas Foster and a Dead Mobster Page 15

  "Carrot Lane cake." She pulls a bunch of carrots from the fridge. "I'm so close to getting it right. The perfect mix of carrot and Alabama Lane cake all in convenient cupcake form. Our regulars back at the cupcake shop will fall all over themselves when they taste it."

  My pocket buzzes, and I pull out my cell phone.

  "Yes?" I answer my phone.

  "Poppy," a familiar voice responds. "I'm glad you answered." Chef Otto sounds out of breath. "Listen to me carefully, okay? I don't have much time." He lowers his voice, and I press the phone into my ear so I can hear him better.

  "Chef, is everything alright?" I glance up at Bree as she begins grating fresh carrot for her cupcake batter.

  "Poppy, you know how to get into my house," he proceeds. "My codes are still the same. I want you to come and get Susu."

  "Why?" I ask. "Otto, what's going on?"

  Chef Otto exhales loudly into the phone.

  "Wait a couple of hours, and then come and get Susu," he whispers. His heavy breathing sends my thoughts spiraling out of control. I think about Karl's clue, the murder at the farmers' market, and the capo who may or may not be in town investigating. What if Otto knew who he really was this whole time?

  "Are you serious?"

  "I don't have time for questions," he snaps. He takes another long breath. "Just take care of Susu." The line goes dead, and I'm left staring at my cell phone with a wrinkled forehead.

  "What does he want now?" Bree asks. She pulls out the butter so it can start to soften.

  "He wants me to pick up Susu."

  "Another trip to Atlanta?" Bree guesses. "You know, I think it's wrong of him to ask his students for favors like that."

  "I like Susu, and something's up. He sounded…not like his usual showy self." I stand up and head for the door.

  "Do you want to wait for my first batch of cupcakes?"

  "No," I reply. "I'll text you when I get there."

  Bree pauses.

  "Huh? I'm not your mother, Poppy. I'm your roommate. And you're a grown woman." She chuckles at her own comment.

  "I'm not kidding," I assure her. "I might be wrong, but if you don't hear from me in the next twenty minutes, call the police."

  * * *

  Chef Otto's rental house looks the same as usual. The garage is shut, and there's no sign of movement inside. The street looks pretty empty as well. Like the entire neighborhood is spending their Sunday evening on a beach somewhere. I wipe the sweat from my forehead as I walk up to the front door. Stupid air conditioner.

  My car is almost officially dead, and I should make Georgina pay for a new one.

  I knock on the front door and wait for the Susu's familiar howl. I hear her barking from the back of the house, but no footsteps accompany it. I knock again—this time calling Chef Otto's name.

  "Hello? Chef, are you home?"

  No answer.

  Maybe he's gone already? Maybe he called me from Atlanta?

  I sigh, walking toward the garage to punch in the code. The garage door slowly rises and reveals a cherry red Ferrari. I stare at it. Chef Otto must be inside. I clench my jaw as I approach the door leading into the house. I gulp as I turn the knob, expecting to be greeted by an excited Italian pointer. Susu barks, but she doesn't come to meet me.

  "Hello?" I call out. "Chef Otto, are you home?"

  The hallway is dark like I just missed him. I ball my fists and walk quietly toward the kitchen where Susu is probably waiting in her crate. The house is eerily silent, and my heart begins pounding so loud that I hear it. I inch forward, eyeing Susu first as she barks at me from inside the kennel—one which she can leave anytime she likes thanks to the broken latch on the gate.

  "Susu." I walk toward her. "What are you doing in there?"

  "Leave her," a voice echoes through the kitchen. It takes me by surprise. My entire torso freezes like I'm stuck in the giant freezer at the student bakery. My legs—like blocks of ice—cease to function properly.

  The voice behind me is raspy. It's new. It's unfamiliar.

  It's him. Leo Bianco.

  I'm too horrified to turn around and face him. The barrel of a gun could be glaring back at me. I let my hands hang at my sides and stare at Susu before I carefully turn my back to her. The two of us are usually in sync, and I know that Susu knows I'm scared for my life. I hope we both make it through the next few minutes. Come on, Bree. Twenty minutes. Don't let me down.

  "You must be Poppy," the man says. I face him, studying his gray suit and thin, frail hands. He's much older than I thought he'd be, but he definitely looks the part. He carries himself with the same confidence as Gino Milani—a smug look on his face like he knows what I'm thinking. And sure enough, he's holding a gun in his hand. "Do you know who I am?"

  "Leo Bianco," I reply. My eyes dart to the chair next to Leo. Chef Otto is shaking his head, and his hands are tied behind his back. Not an impossible hold to escape from, but then there's the matter of the lethal steel pointed at his head.

  "Clever girl," Leo responds. He speaks distinctly, reminding me of a seasoned, older college professor. Leo has no fear in his eyes. Nothing about his demeanor seems anxious. He's here to fulfill his purpose, and any opinions from either party are irrelevant. In a way, his grace under pressure is almost admirable, but then I remind myself that he killed Karl. My lip quivers, and I can't stop it.

  "I said a couple of hours, Poppy," Chef Otto mutters. His cinnamon brown hair is messy like he's been pulling at strands. His cheeks are scarlet, and his forehead glistens when he moves it. He glances down at Susu and then back up to me.

  "Nonsense," Leo says casually, shifting the aim of his gun toward me. "Poppy is a curious one, just like you. She can join us. We were just having a little chat." He tilts his head toward Otto, and I take small steps toward him. "Grab a chair." I take a kitchen chair and set it next to Chef Otto. Leo waits for me to sit down. "Very good."

  Chef Otto takes a deep breath and glares at Susu's kennel in front of him. I eye the kennel too and the broken latch on the door. Susu is standing on the other side. She watches her master intently, waiting for her next command. I've thwarted what might have been Chef Otto's exit strategy—a dog bite from behind.

  "We are discussing business, Poppy," Leo continues, keeping his handgun pointed at me. My chest feels uncomfortably tight, and my palms feel sweaty. I try to focus on something other than my face being Leo's next target. Cakes. Classes. Cole. This isn't working.

  "This is an interesting way to conduct business," I reply.

  Leo chuckles.

  "I appreciate your humor," he responds. "It really is too bad you stuck your nose where it didn't belong. Some people are unlucky in life, Poppy. Just like your friend at the old factory."

  "Karl," I mumble.

  "Was that his name?" Leo shrugs, as if killing Karl was as easy as getting up for breakfast. I squeeze my fists tight. "All I know is that he knew things and heard things that he shouldn't have. I'm afraid you've wandered into the same fate, Poppy."

  Leo raises his gun slightly and takes a step toward me. I notice him flex the muscles in his neck as if he's about to hold his breath. His gun is aimed at my head, and there's no chance of him missing. He's going to shoot me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Chef Otto swiftly nods his head. Susu bursts free from her cage, letting out a startling bark that is so loud Leo loses his concentration. He instinctively lowers his gun to the floor as he turns around to face his fate. A growling, pissed-off Italian pointer with very sharp teeth.

  Susu lunges at Leo before he has the chance to react. She leaps forward with everything she has, and the weight of her body is enough to knock Leo over. He lies on his back in shock.

  Leo lets out a raspy scream when Susu takes her first bite. She instantly breaks skin, and the rage in her eyes and blood stained on her fur is a sight I never thought I'd see. This isn't the sweet, smart, lovable Susu I dog sit. This is a wild animal.

  "Poppy," Otto shouts. I force myself t
o look away and help Chef Otto untie himself. My hands are shaky, but I manage to loosen the knots around his wrists. Leo screams again, attempting to aim his gun at Susu. I yank at the bonds holding Chef Otto prisoner and hope that we have enough time to get away unharmed and with Susu still breathing.

  More barking and screaming pierce my eardrums. Chef Otto jumps to his feet and grabs my hand. He pulls me past the terrifying scene taking place on the kitchen floor. Leo screams out in pain, writhing under the weight of the beast on top of him. He clutches the bloodstained shoulder of his fancy suit, finally dropping his gun in the process.

  There's no time to do anything but run. Otto stays fixated on the door leading back into the garage. He pulls out his car keys—his breathing so heavy that he's wheezing. Otto throws the door open and runs toward his bright red Ferrari.

  "Get in!" he instructs. I waste no time listening to his orders. Otto whistles loudly, leaving the driver's door open as he revs the engine. He takes a couple of deep breaths and waits. Susu comes running at us—the fur around her mouth and neck tainted with Leo's blood. At first I feel like screaming at him to shut the door, but Susu's expression changes. She's back to being man's best friend and the sweet little Susu that lays her head in my lap, hoping for a scratch. She climbs onto my lap, and Chef Otto immediately slams his door shut.

  I let out a scream as Susu barks.

  Leo is standing at the garage door. One hand is planted on his shoulder, and the other is holding his gun. A bullet escapes from the barrel, making a loud pop that forces all the muscles in my body to stiffen. Otto speeds backward down the driveway. His car is just as loud as the gunfire. He whirls his Ferrari around, shifting gears automatically. My head hits the headrest as he punches the gas.

  "My car," Chef Otto shouts. "My beautiful car!"

  I peer through the windshield to the scratch on the hood. The aftermath of Leo's sloppily aimed bullet. Chef Otto's nostrils flare, and his expression looks as if he's bitten into a lemon.

  "We were almost killed, and all you can think about is your Ferrari?" I say. "Are you insane?"

  "You have no idea how much this car costs, Poppy," he retaliates.

  "More than your life apparently."

  He zooms toward town, running a red light. I grip the edges of my seat while Susu tries to steady herself on my lap. Otto turns down the street leading toward the academy, and I shake my head before I can spit out any words of caution.

  "You can't go there," I blurt out. "Leo is probably headed straight for campus."

  "Then where do you suggest?" he argues. "Your place?"

  "He knows where I live, Otto." I search my brain for places to hide. Anywhere we go we stick out like a sore thumb in this car. We'll have to ditch it, but Otto would probably rather die than see it shot up by an angry mobster. "Drive to the police station."

  "No!" Chef Otto yells. "I am not going to be the headline of tonight's news."

  "Set your ego aside, and do the right thing for once." I glare at him, but my look of disdain doesn't faze him.

  "We'll hide out in Atlanta."

  "Seriously?" I shake my head again. The noise from the engine is so loud that I'm having trouble thinking. "Leo will have someone waiting for us before we even get there, and we're kind of easy to spot."

  "Fine," he mutters through his teeth. "Where's a place that Leo will never suspect?"

  I can think of one, but I'm not sure it's a good idea.

  "We'll have to hide the car somewhere and do a lot of running," I say. He pauses, taking a minute to think it over. "It's you or Victoria. You have to decide." Chef Otto scowls as he speeds closer to Calle Pastry Academy.

  "If Vickie gathers another scratch I'm holding you personally responsible."

  "It won't matter if we're both dead," I answer. "And you're the one who started all this in the first place." I pat Susu's back and stare out the window as we pass a dense patch of forest. I'm still amazed by how green the South is. But thick vegetation also means more rain and giant bugs.

  "I did exactly what the police told me to do to lure him in," he responds.

  "But?" I wait for him to confess that he did it all on his own.

  "Okay." He nods. "I should've waited, but you have no idea what'll happen to my reputation if this case isn't wrapped up ASAP. I can't let the media catch wind of this."

  Lies, lies, and more lies. This guy has to be a Bianco. I roll my eyes.

  "Why? Are you afraid they'll discover your precious little secret?" My anger is doing all of my talking now. I'm too frustrated to bite it back any longer.

  "What secret?" he blurts out. "What are you talking about?" He speaks so quickly that he couldn't make his guilt any more obvious.

  "I know, Chef," I admit. "You should've been honest from the start. Maybe then Karl would still be alive."

  "Poppy, what are you talking about?" His pinky finger twitches on the steering wheel.

  "I know that you were adopted and that you're a Bianco by blood."

  Chef Otto raises his eyebrows, keeping silent for a few seconds as he turns into campus. My stomach ties itself in knots as I wait for him to reply, but he takes his time. Otto heads for a random parking lot where we can leave his prized Ferrari. Maybe Leo will check the buildings on campus first and give us more time to contact Detective Reid.

  "Poppy," Chef Otto finally says. "I wasn't adopted."

  "Oh, please." My patience for him and his snide attitude are completely gone. "Just be honest for once! I don't care about your career. I don't care about your reputation, and I'm not going to waste my time selling a story about you to the papers. Not everything is about you."

  "Poppy," Otto replies quietly as he parks his car. "I'm being serious here. I mean, I've seen pictures of my mother at the hospital with me. There's even video footage of my delivery if you want to watch it. But I wouldn't recommend it. It scared me through to my teens."

  "No joke?"

  "I swear on my nonna's cooking," he responds. "Are you telling me that the mafia isn't here to collect a debt? My debt?"

  I nod.

  "If you're not the long lost child of Vito Bianco…who is?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I pound on the door, glancing behind me every other second to make sure Leo isn't lingering in the shadows. Chef Otto rubs the side of his face as if he's in the middle of a daydream. My chest is still tight, and my muscles are still tense. Every second we spend outside is a second too long.

  Susu stays close to my side, giving me the confidence I need to swallow my fears.

  "I can't believe I'm doing this," I say out loud, pounding again on the apartment door.

  It finally opens.

  "Poppy?" Georgina looks surprised. She spots Otto next to me and immediately crosses her arms to hide her baggy T-shirt. Her face is makeup-free, and her long blonde hair is up in a ponytail. "Um, this really isn't a good time." She shies away from making eye contact with Chef Otto. "Ingrid is running me a bath."

  "Please, let us in." I look over my shoulder and down the shadowy sidewalk. "We have nowhere else to go."

  "What?" She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, turning her bare face so that Otto can't see her skin au naturel.

  "I'll explain everything." I push past her and slam the door shut as soon as Otto and Susu follow me inside. Ingrid emerges from the hallway and stops when she sees us.

  "I'm listening," Georgina responds, raising her eyebrows.

  "Okay." I take a deep breath and look to Otto for help, but he shrugs. "Wow. Where do I start?"

  "Don't sugarcoat it." Georgina taps her foot. "Why are you barging in on me uninvited? And why is he with you?"

  "Just call the police," I instruct her. "We've got a killer hot on our trail." I make sure the front door is locked, and I move away from the window. Georgina eyes Susu. She doesn't seem as fond of her now that her crush on Chef Otto has been smashed to pieces.

  "Poppy—"

  "She's telling the truth," Chef Otto cuts in. His b
iceps flex as he clasps his hands in front of him. "You're right, Poppy. It's my fault that the mafia is after us, and it's my fault that Karl's dead."

  "Wait a second?" Georgina steps forward, showing off her loungewear and naked face. "Someone really is after you two?"

  "Yes." I do my best not to shout it at her.

  "So, you came here?" She rolls her eyes in disappointment. "What is wrong with you? First the car chase, and now this? Are you trying to get me killed?" As usual, Georgina is making this ordeal all about her. She and Otto really are two of a kind. "And what is the matter with the dog? She's going to stain all my furniture with whatever that gunk is on her fur. These couches are brand new."

  "You two need to get your priorities straight," I comment, looking from Otto to Georgina.

  "Just because your life is one big bowl of spilled cake batter doesn't mean you need to try to ruin it for the rest of us." Georgina holds her shoulders high and lifts her chin. I hate it when she does that.

  "You know what?" I lie. "You're right. I dragged Otto all the way here just to get you to agree to all of my ideas for our final buffet. And PS, your couches are ugly even without the fur stains." The look on her face is priceless, and it's exactly what I'm going for. Annoyed and shocked all at the same time.

  "Oh, you little—"

  "Girls!" Chef Otto nudges my shoulder. "That's enough. Georgina, this is serious. We may not have much time here."

  Georgina groans while glancing back at Ingrid, her parents' housekeeper slash bath attendant.

  "I let you stay with me in New Orleans, and this is how you repay me," she replies. "And I was actually beginning to warm up to you, Poppy."

  "Oh, I'm flattered." I guess our small moment of mutual understanding in Atlanta didn't count for anything. She's still that stubborn suck-up from day one of our first semester—the girl who was so desperate to secure her spot at the top of the class that she had to sabotage my work. She almost burned down the building in the process. "Really, your approval is all I care about."

  "Cut the sarcasm, honey. It's not cute when you're an old spinster."