Chapter One
Gina Silvano raised the binoculars to her eyes once again, though they did little good. It was night and they weren’t night-vision goggles. This created a problem. But the cupcake truck she was scoping out was parked in the small driveway of the Street Treats bakery under a streetlamp. So she could kind of see it. Enough to know when a person walked up to it, which was all she really needed. Someone had broken into the truck twice now over the last month and a half, and she wasn’t leaving her perch on the fire escape outside old Mrs. Bogetti’s apartment until she found out who it was.
Mrs. Bogetti, unfortunately, wasn’t exactly on board with the whole game plan. She stuck her gray head full of rollers out the window for the third time in the fifteen minutes Gina had been there.
“Gina Silvano, I’m not going to tell you again. You get off my fire escape right this minute with those things!”
Gina waved her away. “Shh! Keep it down. I won’t be out here long. And it’s not your fire escape anyway. It’s attached to the building. I have every right to be on it.”
“Not with those binoculars you don’t, young lady. Spying on who knows who. You should be ashamed of yourself. And right in front of my window, too. What’ll people think?”
Gina rolled her eyes and went back to watching the truck. “No one can see, Mrs. Bogetti. That’s kind of the point. Pretend I’m not here,” she said. “As soon as I find out who’s breaking into my truck I’ll stay away from your window, I promise.”
“I don’t see why you have to be in front of my window. You can see across the street perfectly fine from one floor up. Or the roof.”
Gina shook her head. “You are the only one with a nice big potted plant to hide behind. And we’re at the perfect height to see everything clearly without being too far away. Besides, the roof is filthy.”
Mrs. Bogetti folded her arms and glared at Gina. “If someone is breaking into your truck, you should call the police. Let them handle it.”
“The police won’t bother with this. Nothing’s ever been stolen. They’d think it was a waste of their time.”
“If nothing’s ever been stolen, then how do you know it’s been broken into?”
Gina sighed, wishing the old lady would go back to her Law & Order marathon and leave Gina to her spying. “Because the truck was left a mess. Things knocked off shelves and enough frosting, flour, and sprinkles strewn around to suggest somebody had a very good time. And since it wasn’t me, then someone else must be breaking in to screw around in my truck. And I’m going to catch them doing it.”
Mrs. Bogetti gasped and slapped a hand to her ample bosom. “Who would do such a thing?”
Gina blew her breath out. “My guess is my ex, Tony. I found his high school ring under one of the cabinets after the first break-in.”
“Well, there you go! Proof! Call the cops and let them take care of it so you can get off my fire escape before you get yourself arrested for being a Peeping Tom.”
“I told you, they won’t do anything. Besides, Tony’ll deny it. It’s his, though. He’s the only thirty-year-old idiot I know who still wears his high school ring.”
Granted, it was possible he’d lost it during one of their own romps in the truck. But Gina didn’t feel the need to share that bit of info with Mrs. Bogetti. Anyway, it was much more likely the jack-hole had been bringing some bimbo around in a sick attempt to get back at Gina for dumping his pathetic ass.
“Well, if someone is doing that in your truck that’s just…unsanitary. You serve food out of that!” Trust Mrs. Bogetti to focus on the food rather than the fact that her truck was being broken into.
“I sanitize the truck every morning, Mrs. Bogetti, and I did that even before this happened. Everything is perfectly okay to serve, I promise.”
Mrs. Bogetti humphed. “I still say you should call the police and let them handle it.”
Gina tried to keep her temper in check, but if Mrs. Bogetti didn’t clam up, all this talking was going to alert Tony that something was up. “I have no proof. Yet. He’ll deny it, and then it’s his word against mine. But I never had a lick of trouble with my truck until we broke up. The coincidence is a little too convenient for me. So. I’m going to park my ass right here on this fire escape until I find out exactly who is kinking up my truck. I’ll call the cops once I’ve caught him with his pants down and he can’t deny it. After I junk-punch him a few times, of course.”
“Well, I want no part of this,” Mrs. Bogetti said, planting her fists on her hips.