I toss them on the table, not wanting to touch something that caused so many problems, and then I scowl at them for good measure. But before I’m able to really give them a good glaring at, Tabitha covers the money with an empty pink mixing bowl.
She shrugs. “Just being safe.”
“How did they forget you have this?” Katy points at the bowl and then promptly moves her hands to look like she was concerned about the freezer.
“Probably the gunfight at the O.K. Corral last night.” Tabitha flips her batch of dough over and sticks the base of her palm into the ball smashing it down. “Everyone kneed your dough. Act natural.”
“Yes, because on Sunday mornings we always get together and slap dough around at Anessa’s bakery. This is real natural.” Katy rolls her eyes, but eventually picks up her ball and drops it on the table.
“Back to my plan.” Katy claps her hands together twice making me think she’s way too excited over what we’re dealing with. “This is all because Frankie wants his money, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then the answer is simple. We give him the money.”
Three pairs of eyes lock point on the upside down mixing bowl. My lips press into a straight line with doubt to fill the room.
“What?” Katy asks. “It’s a great plan.”
“How do we find him? Last I checked there wasn’t a listing for mob in the Yellow Pages.” Tabitha flops her dough over, pieces of it sticking to the metal.
“Last I checked there wasn’t even a phone book anymore. Do they still print those?” I toss some flour across the table, covering her spot so she can stop making a mess while she mutilates what should have been dough for a batch of dinner rolls.
“Guys,” Katy says not at all perturbed. “It’s the modern world. We use the Internet.”
I suck in air and stand up straighter, excited by one particular memory from last night. “We don’t need the Internet.” Reaching in my back pocket I pull out the simple business card. It’s white with an embossed name on the front and a simple cell phone number below.
The business card for Frankie Zanetti.
I slap it on the table with a heavy palm. It’s wasted as the thump is lost in the loud music. Katy’s idea started out flat, but it’s fast becoming a little more possible.
Maybe we can do this after all.
Katy wastes no time reaching over and snatching the card off the table. “Frankie has business cards? Where did you get this, you sassy whore?”
“He gave it to me,” I say and then quickly reconsider my statement when I notice two sets of wide eyes staring in my direction. “Not Frankie. Someone who works for Frankie. Last night.”
“You didn’t say anything. Did you tell the cops?” Katy finally takes in the pile of flour I left at her spot on the table and spreads it around her area.
I shake my head and do a half shrug. “I forgot, and it’s a good thing because now we have his number.”
“So, we’re going to go along with this crazy idea?” Tabitha asks while shaking her head no slowly.
She has a small reason to be worried. There are some holes, but so far it’s the best one we have.
Katy waves her hand around excitedly not giving Tabitha any attention. “Okay, we need to be smart about this. Make a plan. You.” She points to me. “Call Frankie and tell him to meet you somewhere public. And make sure to tell him to come alone.”
“That never works in the movies.” Tabitha tosses her dough on the table, half the flour exploding into the air.
“This isn’t a movie, Tabitha. Of course it will work.” Katy rolls her eyes. “We need protection. Does anyone have a gun?”
Are all people from Maine crazy? “No!” Let’s hope Ridge really doesn’t have a camera trained on the kitchen area because my current look of shock would certainly give away that something is going down.
“I have a shotgun,” Katy answers.
“Yeah, that’s real inconspicuous.” Tabitha shakes her head like she’s losing faith in this whole plan. If she had any to begin with.
“Pepper spray! I have some in my purse.”
