by Fiona Grace
A VILLA IN SICILY:
VINO AND DEATH
(A Cats and Dogs Cozy Mystery—Book Three)
FIONA GRACE
Fiona Grace
Fiona Grace is author of the LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books (and counting); of the DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY series, comprising three books (and counting); of the BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books.
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Copyright © 2021 by Fiona Grace. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Romas_Photo, used under license from Shutterstock.com.
BOOKS BY FIONA GRACE
LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY
MURDER IN THE MANOR (Book#1)
DEATH AND A DOG (Book #2)
CRIME IN THE CAFE (Book #3)
VEXED ON A VISIT (Book #4)
KILLED WITH A KISS (Book #5)
PERISHED BY A PAINTING (Book #6)
SILENCED BY A SPELL (Book #7)
FRAMED BY A FORGERY (Book #8)
CATASTROPHE IN A CLOISTER (Book #9)
TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY
AGED FOR MURDER (Book #1)
AGED FOR DEATH (Book #2)
AGED FOR MAYHEM (Book #3)
AGED FOR SEDUCTION (Book #4)
AGED FOR VENGEANCE (Book #5)
AGED FOR ACRIMONY (Book #6)
DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY
SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF MURDER (Book #1)
SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF CRIME (Book #2)
SKEPTIC IN SALEM: AN EPISODE OF DEATH (Book #3)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A KILLER CUPCAKE (Book #1)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A MURDEROUS MACARON (Book #2)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A PERILOUS CAKE POP (Book #3)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A DEADLY DANISH (Book #4)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A TREACHEROUS TART (Book #5)
BEACHFRONT BAKERY: A CALAMITOUS COOKIE (Book #6)
CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY
A VILLA IN SICILY: OLIVE OIL AND MURDER (Book #1)
A VILLA IN SICILY: FIGS AND A CADAVER (Book #2)
A VILLA IN SICILY: VINO AND DEATH (Book #3)
A VILLA IN SICILY: CAPERS AND CALAMITY (Book #4)
A VILLA IN SICILY: ORANGE GROVES AND VENGEANCE (Book #5)
A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY (Book #6)
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
Getting ready for your hot date?
The phone buzzed as Audrey Smart was leaning forward, listening with her stethoscope to her patient’s heartbeat.
She peered at the message from her sister and checked the time. Two hours and counting. This was her last appointment of the night, and then … big things were about to happen. She could feel it. She shivered again at the thought.
“I don’t know!” the female transplant from Canada said, wringing her hands and pacing the floor of the clinic. “He just looks so … I don’t know. Sad.”
“Well,” Audrey said, pulling the device from her ears. “He is a Basset Hound.”
“Yes, but isn’t there such a thing as… like, dog depression? Ever since I moved him out here, he’s just looked especially glum. Are you sure he’s not sick?”
“His vitals are all perfect. He’s the picture of health. When did you get him?”
“Oh, Bubba was a graduation present from my boyfriend. In Toronto. I’ve had him since he was a puppy,” the woman, Connie Wilkes, said.
“He’s been through a lot, then, hmm?”
Connie tapped her chin. She’d gone through the whole story—how she’d purchased a one-euro home in Mussomeli, Sicily, a couple months ago, same as Audrey. She couldn’t have been much more than twenty-five. Audrey had to give her props. It wasn’t an undertaking for the faint of heart, that was for sure. “I suppose just about everything has changed for him. But I thought he would like it here. It’s warmer, and he hates the snow. He gets to lie out on the patio and soak up the sun, which he loves. But other than that … nothing.”
Audrey smiled and petted the poor dog’s droopy ears. “You know, dogs are just like us humans. They have good days and bad. And yes, they can be depressed. But let me ask you something. Have you been doing renovations on your place?”
She groaned and ran a hand through her long dark hair, making the charm bracelet on her wrist jingle. “Have I! Girl, I’ve been working twelve-hour days, getting my little corner of paradise into shape. I swear, I don’t ever sleep anymore. I’m being run ragged!”
Same, Audrey thought, thinking of her own suffering little place. She’d been putting so much time into getting her veterinary business off the ground and successful, her renovations at home had taken a serious backseat. So much the same.
“It’s a huge undertaking. You have to be stressed. And dogs can feel that. There’s a strong correlation between a pet’s disposition and his owner’s. It’s likely Bubba can feel how stressed out you are, and he is absorbing some of that stress,” Audrey said as the dog flopped over on its side and gave her enormously sad eyes. “Not to mention that you’ve probably been so busy with renovations to pay him much attention?”
Connie sighed. “You might be right.”
“Luckily, it doesn’t take much to perk a dog up.” Audrey reached into a cabinet and pulled out a tub of peanut butter. She scooped out a spoonful and held it up in front of Bubba.
Bubba’s eyes immediately lit up and he jumped to his feet, licking the spoon clean.
Audrey smiled as he continued to run his tongue over it, looking for any spot he might have missed. “See? Sometimes the smallest little bit of attention you pay will work wonders. That’s what makes them so lovable, right? They exist to please us. He probably felt b
ad you were feeling bad.”
Connie smiled. “Aw. That’s all?” She lifted him up into her arms and spoke in baby-talk, “Oh, baby, I’ll make sure I don’t ignore you anymore! What do you say to a nice, long walk to the park?”
Audrey opened the exam room door and led her patient and his owner out to reception. “Yes, I bet he’d love that. But if he does have any other complaints, just give me a call. I’m always here for you guys!”
“I will. Thanks so much!” she said, heading out the door.
Audrey tidied up the magazines in the empty reception area. The place was small, but neat, with modern lines and pictures of happy pets on the walls. The construction was complete, but it still smelled like paint. There was a pile of mail waiting for her—probably bills. She grabbed her letter opener from the reception desk and then set it down. It’d been a long day of steady clients, almost since opening at nine. Now, the sun was setting, and she had places to be.
One place, actually. A very important place, or at least, she hoped. She hoped that what happened tonight would be something she remembered the rest of her life.
So the mail could wait until tomorrow. She flipped the sign on the door from Aberto to Chiuso. Then she went into the back to check on the latest batch of strays that had come in—a couple kittens and an older dog.
Talk about a sad dog. This was a mangy-looking mutt with matted fur, shaking in his cage. She went over to him and sighed as she petted him. “Oh, Bruno,” she whispered to him. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get you fixed up with a new owner who’ll take good care of you. Okay? What do you say about that?”
She looked around the crowded place, at all the sad faces staring back at her, hoping it was true. The back room was now filled with animals looking for a good home. Since the clinic had opened a month ago, word was definitely spreading about her practice, so the place was now busy from morning to night, and people from neighboring towns were starting to bring in their pets. And strays.
Lots of strays. If there was one thing the crumbling old town of Mussomeli, Sicily, had in spades, it was strays.
That’s why the town had accepted her application for a one-euro house almost the second she’d sent it in. She’d been getting tired of her life in Boston, wanted to shake things up, and submitted the bid, never really expecting anything to happen. Then, a week later, she was on a flight across the Atlantic, to her new home.
And just in time, too. The stray population in the city was staggering. Though she kept finding new homes for them, more flooded in almost every day. Which reminded her, she had to set up that free spay-and-neuter clinic. There was hardly ever much of a vacancy at Hotel Smart, though she was proud that she and her vet center were playing a small part in eliminating the stray problem here.
But those sad faces … sometimes Audrey wished she could take them all home with her.
Not that that could happen—her place might have been the biggest of the old, crumbling properties in Mussomeli, but right now, it was a giant pile of sawdust and broken plaster. A construction crime scene. She cringed at the thought of it as she filled water trays and made sure the animals had their cuddles. Then she waved them all goodbye sadly, as though she wouldn’t see them again in another ten hours. She’d have to wait until her renovations were done before she could think of any more pets. “Goodbye, my loves!”
She stepped outside to see Nick, waiting dutifully for her.
“Hi, Nick!” she said to her little pet fox, who’d made it a habit of being out on the stoop every evening at six, to escort her home.
He darted between her legs, tickling her calves with his big, bushy tail. She bent down and stroked his chin. “All right, all right. Let’s go home and get you some food. An apple? I think I have one at home.”
He purred in answer.
She had to get there, and soon. She had to get ready for those big, life-changing things to happen.
*
Every time she came home to her place on Piazza Tre, knowing how far other one-euro home buyers were getting with their renovations, she felt a little squeezing in her chest. She had plans on top of plans to make her place the prized jewel of Mussomeli, but with her vet practice, no time at all.
So as she walked, she tried to ignore the sights of other homes in the midst of renovation. But it was pretty obvious, considering how narrow the streets were. One owner was painting his home a cheery pale pink that looked gorgeous. Someone else had gotten lovely new shutters, and yet another new homeowner was repairing the scrollwork on their balcony. She waved hello to everyone she passed, feeling a little jealous. She’d hate to be known as the American who owned the “Disaster of Piazza Tre.”
Still, she loved the town. It had been a virtual ghost town a couple months ago, but now it was showing more signs of life as more and more units were sold. Though the cobblestone streets were full of crumbling buildings, Baroque-style architecture, and old-world charm, the place had a new, young energy zinging through it. A kind of electricity. She passed an old cobbler’s and a farm market which was just closing up, pulling their wares off the sidewalk for the night. The owner, a mustached man who always called Ciao to her in the mornings, offered her a paper bag. She opened it.
“Oh, tomatoes!” she said with a smile as she peered in at the biggest, ripest fruits she’d ever seen. A perfect time to practice her Italian. “Grazie. How much do you want for them?”
He waved her away. “On the house! It’s the least we can do for our lovely Dottore.”
“Grazie mille, that’s so kind,” she told him in Italian, bursting with pride at her ability to carry on a conversation in the Italian language without tripping all over her tongue. As much as she cursed herself for mispronouncing just about everything, she was getting better at her comprehension.
She waved at him as she crossed the narrow, slanting street, already wondering what kind of dinner she could scrounge up. Tomatoes and … more tomatoes. She’d meant to go to the market, but she’d been too busy. Her cupboard was as close to bare as it could get. Nick would be lucky to get that apple.
Tomorrow, I’ll do the shopping. On the way home from work. I have to, she told herself, yawning at the mere thought. She’d been dining out every night at the local cafes and bistros, totally spoiling herself, because she’d been too tired to cook. Besides, she hated cooking.
When she rounded the corner onto her street, she smiled at the sight of who was standing on her front stoop, waiting for her.
“Oh, Polpetto!” she cried, rushing to the giant mastiff’s side as it began to beat its tail like a drum against the side of the wall. Funny how a dog could always lift her spirits mile-high. She wrapped her arms around him and let him lick her face.
“Uh … I’m here, too,” a voice beside the dog said.
She rolled her eyes at her gorgeous neighbor, Mason. With his cinnamon hair falling in his face and his Led Zeppelin T-shirt nicely clinging to his defined pecs, she always had the urge to get giggly around him. “Yes, but you’re not nearly as adorable.”
“That is a matter of opinion,” he muttered, smirking at her.
The giggle almost forced its way out, but luckily, beside her, Nick let out a hiss, and Polpetto, a rare bark. The two were not exactly best friends. “Calm down,” she said to her fox, nudging him away as she shuffled her purse in her hands with the bag, trying to retrieve her keys. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Why’re you acting so surprised? Haven’t we been here every day this week to help you with your repairs?”
“I know. I just …” Thought I told you I had plans for tonight. “Forget it. Come on in. I have … tomatoes.”
He took the bag from her and peered inside as she worked the key in the lock. “Ah. I see that. So I wanted to ask you your professional opinion on the creature.”
The creature. That’s how he referred to adorable Polpetto. He played the reluctant pet owner, but he was fooling no one. Polpetto accompanied him everywhere, and sometimes she’d
catch him smiling like a kid on Christmas morning with pride over something his doggie had done. “What’s that?”
“Digging. My garden’s like a minefield. I have no idea what he’s going after, but he’s like a budding archaeologist. Is that normal?”
She shrugged as she opened the door, then sneezed at the volume of construction dust in the place. A home was supposed to be welcoming, warm … comforting. Yet, every time she walked through this door, all she did was sneeze and wish a fairy could wave its magic wand and make it livable. Not that she didn’t like remodeling. In fact, she loved the idea … she just didn’t have the hours in the day. “Yeah, it is. He probably needs more exercise, so just take him for an extra walk and you’ll be fine,” she said to him as he passed through. “Welcome to the funhouse.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” he said to her, looking around.
Easy for him to say now. His house was nearly done. Just needed a few finishing touches. And actually, over the past few months, she’d managed to start tackling a couple rooms, so that when one entered the front door, they saw a sunny kitchen, a nice, sweeping staircase, and a modern bathroom, off to the side.
But venture a little farther than that, and … that’s where the shiny façade crumbled away. The living room hadn’t been touched, her garden out back was like a jungle, and the whole second floor probably needed to be condemned.
“I don’t know how you can say that with a straight face,” she said as she took the tomatoes from him and began to line them on the kitchen windowsill.
He shrugged. “So, what do you have in store for me tonight, boss?”
Luckily, her best friend since arriving in Mussomeli was a contractor, and a pretty darn good one. He was American, too, so they had a lot in common, and no language barrier, aside from some of his funny Southern sayings. When one ignored his off-color remarks and his double entendres, as well as his overinflated ego, he actually was a pretty great guy. Though she hadn’t done much to her house, the things she had gotten done were mostly because of his help. He had been coming over every night that week to fix her mistakes, or lend a little bit of needed height or elbow grease to her operations.
