Lacey Luzzi: Seasoned: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 7)

by Gina LaManna

  “I’m a director,” an old man with a bald patch said loudly as he introduced himself to Janie. “May I have this dance? I’m also a producer and a casting director, and I love your look, Miss Silvers. I’m sure we have space for you in an upcoming project.”

  “Wonderful,” she purred. “I have a wide range of talents.”

  “Wide range of talents, huh?” I said to Mack. “I’d like to see that resume.”

  “I imagine your resume is quite interesting as well,” he shot back.

  I turned to find Mack watching me, an amused quirk of his lips.

  “You two, partner up!” Fernando screeched in our direction.

  Mack and I looked at each other. I liked Mack as a friend, but it just felt wrong dancing with someone who wasn’t Anthony. I raised an eyebrow. “Smoke break?”

  He nodded.

  Clay’s terrified eyes met my gaze on the way out.

  “Good luck,” I mouthed. “Talk to Janie!”

  “Got it,” Meg said, cinching her hands tighter around Clay’s lower back. “We’ve got it all under control.”

  Mack and I emerged into the smoggy outdoors minutes later, a slight haze covering the city despite the sunny day. The temp was cool enough for a sweatshirt, but not Christmas weather by any means.

  “I don’t smoke,” I said, hugging my clothing tighter to my body. “Never have.”

  “Me neither.” Mack leaned against the building, his hands in the pockets of worn jeans, his t-shirt stretched across a figure much like Anthony’s.

  Except where Anthony was tall, dark, and dangerous in a James Bond sort of way, Mack was more rugged, charming, and handsome in a cowboy sort of way. We fell into an easy silence, and for the first time all day, I let my mind stop whirring a hundred miles an hour, and settled down to people-watch.

  “Do you mind if I give Anthony a quick call?” I asked.

  Mack shook his head.

  I dialed and the phone rang, and rang, and rang, but he didn’t pick up. When I hit the answering machine, my note was brief. “Hey, Anthony, it’s me! Just calling to say I miss you and to chat. Nothing urgent. I’ll call you later tonight after I meet with Lizabeth. Bye!”

  I hung up, waiting for Mack to say something. He didn’t disappoint.

  “Why don’t you tell him you love him?” Mack asked.

  “None of your business.”

  “You’re right, it’s not,” he said. “Just curious.”

  “Because we haven’t said it yet, okay?” My voice came out a little more clipped than it should have. “No offense, but you don’t seem like Mr. Open yourself.”

  Mack gave a tilt of his head sideways in acknowledgment.

  “Sorry,” I said after another beat of silence. “That was a bit of a cheap shot. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Maybe you haven’t asked the right questions, in order for me to want to open up.”

  “I asked a bunch of questions,” I said. “You ignored them all, so I stopped.”

  “Maybe they’re not the right ones.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Mack cocked his head to look in my direction. “Yes.”

  “Gee whiz, this is a fun conversation.”

  “Twice,” he said, exhaling a long breath. “Once I got my heart broken, and once I broke someone else’s.”

  I fell quiet, never having expected Mack to open up to me. Maybe both of us needed to talk more than we let ourselves believe.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Next question.”

  I thought for a minute. “Did you say I love you both times?”

  He blinked. “That’s a good question. And no, just once.”

  “Which time was that?”

  “I told a girl that I loved her for all the wrong reasons. I thought I meant it at the time, but looking back…I didn’t,” Mack said. “And the more I think about it, the more I think that neither of our hearts were broken. Just our egos.”

  “But what about the other girl?” I asked. “Did you tell her?

  He shook his head. “I should have, but I took the easy way out. I disappeared.”

  “It’s not too late,” I said. “Is she single?”

  “What makes you think I know that?”

  “That look you get when you talk about her,” I said. “If she’s the one that got away, there’s no way you haven’t kept tabs on her. You have the resources and the money.”

  “She’s not interested in resources or money,” he said, looking down at his shoes. “And yes, I’ve asked around. She’s single, and back home, according to a friend.”

  “Why don’t you say something to her now?”

  “The point of this conversation isn’t to talk about me.” Mack looked up, his eyes filled with a flash of longing, a whisper of pain. “Take my advice or leave it, I don’t care. But don’t make the same mistake I did and wait until it’s too late to tell him how you feel.”

  “But…” I swallowed. “But we’re happy, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “Okay, fine,” Mack said. “Like I said, listen or don’t. But don’t make the same mistake I did, or you’ll be in my shoes ten years from now telling someone the same story.”

  I glanced down, my mind now filled with what ifs and why nots. I had another question ready on the tip of my tongue, but before I could ask, Clay burst outside.

  “I got it,” he called. “She has an alibi.”

  “Who?” I forced my eyes away from Mack, though his gaze lingered on me a second longer.

  Clay cleared his throat awkwardly. “Did I interrupt something?”

  Mack shook his head, a smile on his lips, but not in his eyes. “Of course not. I was just complaining and Lacey was giving me advice. What’d you find?”

  “This…this girl is psycho,” Clay said, accepting Mack’s explanation without a second thought. “But she wasn’t the psycho making the phone calls.”

  “Janie Silvers?” I asked. “How do you know?”

  “She likes to talk,” Clay said. “Meg’s still in there, listening. She’s the one who asked the right questions. Er…rather, she picked the right fight.”

  “Don’t make us pull it out of you, Clay,” I said. “What was the alibi?”

  “Meg overheard Janie and that old director-slash-producer-slash-casting guy talking about some film he’d written. A stripper with a heart of gold story. Although, I’m pretty sure he didn’t write anything and was just looking for Janie’s phone number.” Clay looked up, his eyes blinking in surprise. “I digress. Anyway, Meg got in a fight with Janie.”

  “Oh, wonderful. How did I not see this coming?”

  “Meg claimed that since she had firsthand experience in the world of stripping that she would be a better fit for the stripper with a heart of gold role.” Clay shrugged. “Janie got pretty pissed off.”

  “I’d imagine, since Janie wasn’t dancing with that old, creepy guy for his intelligence, that’s for sure. She was angling hard for a part.”

  “Hollywood.” Mack shook his head in amusement. “Never a dull moment.”

  “Have you ever danced with an old, creepy guy for a spot in a movie?” I asked Mack, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Or woman, for that matter?”

  Mack’s lips formed a tight, thin line. “Funny.”

  “Anyway, Janie whipped out her cell phone right then and there,” Clay interrupted. “She showed the director-slash-producer-slash-casting guy footage of her stripping. The videos each had a time stamp on them. Guess what she was doing when the phone calls were made?”

  “Stripping?” I took a wild guess.

  “Bingo.” Clay smiled with satisfaction. “She’s not your mystery caller, unless she somehow managed to slip away and make a phone call during the show, but I doubt it. She seemed pretty busy up there, if you know what I mean.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Mack deadpanned. “Can you please explain?”

  Clay’s mouth dropped open as if it’d come u
nhinged, and he almost squeaked. “Explain?”

  “He’s joking, Clay,” I said, as Mack broke into a smile. “But seriously, how many of her videos did you look through?”

  Clay looked into the sky. “A few.”

  “A few, huh?”

  “Enough to know she was occupied during the times the calls were made,” Clay said. “I’m sure you can confirm with the venue. Name of the place is Plan D.”

  “Classy. Is that what happens if Plans A through C don’t work out in any given night?”

  “I suppose so,” Clay said. “But I’m not going to follow up. I really don’t think your suspect is this girl. She was asking Meg for donations to her Kickstarter, and they weren’t even done fighting. I think Janie really is just desperate for money, and she isn’t afraid to ask for it.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “If I can’t find any other leads, I’ll follow up with it tomorrow. Is Meg still up there watching videos on Janie’s phone? We should get her and leave. No sense getting screamed at by Fernando anymore.”

  “I’ll go get her,” Clay volunteered. He disappeared inside, and returned with Meg on his arm a second later. Her face glowed pink, a happiness dancing in her eyes.

  “It’s been awhile since I had a good catfight,” she said. “That b-word called me fat and piggy. So I called her Botox Barbie and one other thing, but I can’t remember already. It was a real doozy, though.”

  “Nice work getting the alibi,” I said. “Successful afternoon, all in all.”

  “What can I say?” Meg raised her shoulders and her eyebrows all at once. “I’m good at my job. Have you considered giving me a raise, boss?”

  “I’m not the boss,” I said, throwing my arms around Meg and Clay. “We’re all a team. Just a bunch of goofs trying to figure everything out before it’s too late.”

  Meg raised a finger. “Speaking of…I just figured out one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, glancing at my friend.

  “Remember how I made that artillery closet out of the concession stand back at the theater?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I was just going through my supplies before leaving Fernando’s, and I’m missing one grenade.”

  “What?” I shook my head. “Did I hear you right? You left a grenade in the popcorn buckets?”

  “It’s more like a bomb, actually,” Meg said. “And it’s on top of the Runts. Maybe we can stop by on the way home?”

  Clay’s face paled, and I felt the blood drain from mine. “Meg, how much time was on that bomb?”

  “We’ve got at least…oh, fifty minutes,” Meg said. “If I set the extended button that is, but I can’t say for sure. “Let’s call it forty-five, to be safe.”

  I turned to Mack. “Can you work your driving magic once more?”

  He gestured to the vehicle at the curb. “Buckle up.”

  CHAPTER 17

  One gut-wrenching ride later, we arrived at the theater, careening into an illegal parking spot out front.

  “I’ve gotta go park somewhere else,” Mack said. “You guys can get out here.”

  “You just don’t want to come inside.” I shot him a look as I climbed out of the car. “Chicken.”

  “Hey, it’s not my bomb. I’m just the driver, remember?”

  “We’ve got like, ten minutes to spare,” Meg said, carefully tying her shoelaces before she got out of the car, taking her sweet time to check her makeup in the reflection on the windows. “Plus it’s one of the smaller exploding devices I own. Mostly I use this type as a scare tactic, loud bangs and bright flashes. Only a teensy, tiny flame,” Meg said. “It’s meant for places you want to clear out, but not destroy.”

  I slammed the door shut, waving as Mack pulled away from the curb to find a more legal spot for the vehicle. “Shouldn’t you have waited ’til tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” Meg said. “But I didn’t.”

  “Good answer,” I said dryly, giving Clay a gentle push towards the building. “Let’s go shut it off.”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” Meg looked at me. “We can’t shut it off. We just have to put it somewhere safe to explode.”

  “Excuse me?” I raised my arms in a limp gesture. “We’re in the middle of Hollywood. Where can we let a bomb explode safely?”

  “I was considering flushing it down the toilet,” Meg said. “Even if it doesn’t work, it might be entertaining. Can you imagine? A volcanic, exploding throne.”

  “Why do you make my job so much harder?” I cried to the skies. “Meg, just for once can you set off bombs to help us, and not hurt us?”

  “We’ve got a little over eight minutes left,” Meg said. “It’s not gonna hurt us. At most, we’ll just have to hire a couple janitors to sweep up the debris.”

  “Go.” I pointed a finger into the building.

  Following Meg closely, Clay and I exchanged a terrified glance. I was doing my best to keep up a calm, “leader-like” facade, but in all honesty I was closer to running away than I was to remaining calm.

  We slipped inside the theater, passing a few construction crews still setting up the bleachers outside. The door to the facility was propped open, thankfully, so the workers could come and go as needed.

  “Don’t worry, I got this. I’m the Bomb-dot-com.” Meg cracked her knuckles and slid back the glass from behind the concession stand. “No problemo.”

  I flinched, moving to stand behind Clay as Meg removed a box of Runts as carefully as if it were a jelly donut on the verge of cracking open.

  “Don’t hide behind me,” Clay said. “Coward.”

  “You’re bigger,” I said. “This is called teamwork.”

  Clay sidestepped me, but I didn’t let him get far, reaching an arm out and snaking it around his, clasping my cousin’s body tightly to my side.

  “Hunh,” Meg said, looking up. “False alarm. Looks like there’s an Off button. See? All done.”

  I took a baby step forward, peering over Clay’s shoulder at the small, pager-like device with a pulsing red light. “Why’s it still blinking like that?”

  “Good question,” Meg said. “It wasn’t doing that before.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t turn it On just now, instead of Off?” I asked.

  Realization dawned in her eyes. “You are so right, girlfriend. Whoops. Talk about a big goof, huh?”

  “What does this mean?” My voice rose to a slightly panicked level. “Can you shut it off?”

  Meg flicked the On and Off switch. “Doesn’t look like it. Faulty piece of crap. Probably made in China.”

  Clay reached a hand out, tilting the device sideways. “Yep, there’s even a sticker. Made in China.”

  “I don’t care where it’s made!” I stepped back. “I care about getting rid of it. What can we do with it, Clay? Can you take care of this?”

  “It looks broken,” Clay said. “The On and Off button should work – I’ve seen this model before. If the switch is broken, I’d have to bust it open and tweak the wires. I’m not sure seven minutes is enough time to do that.”

  “Here’s the plan,” I said, wracking my mind for a plan as I spoke. “Okay, Clay…you’re going to stay right here and get working on that device. Try to dissect it, disable it, disarm it – any other dis-membering type things you can think of. Meg, you go clearing the workers away from the building. Don’t tell them why, just get rid of them, all right?”

  “I’ve got a plan.” Meg winked, and if I wasn’t crunched for time by an impending explosion, I would have been worried by that mischievous wink. However, almost anything Meg might do to get them away from the facility would be better than nothing.

  “What are you going to do?” Clay swiped the device from Meg, removing a set of keys from his pocket that had a bunch of pokey, proddy type attachments that looked nothing like keys.

  “I’m going to scour the building, make sure nobody’s left inside.” I cast a look at the staircase. “At the same time, I’m going to keep an eye out f
or abandoned janitor closets or a bathroom, something we could use if the bomb can’t be disabled in time.”

  “Run,” Clay said. “Stop distracting me. Come back in five minutes, if I can’t get it by then, we need a Plan B.”

  “You people really need to relax,” Meg said. “The bomb isn’t going to hurt anyone except for your eardrums maybe, and make you see few stars. But then again, that’s fitting, isn’t it? We are in Hollywood.”

  She winked, but neither Clay nor I returned it.

  We took off in three different directions, a line of perspiration breaking out on Clay’s forehead as he leaned over the black device, while Meg took heavy, jogging steps out the front of the building. I sprinted up the staircase, whirling around the first bend.

  But my warning calls didn’t make it out of my mouth. The Anyone there? I’d meant to shout turned into a muffled grunt as a hand clasped around my mouth, and another arm whipped around my waist.

  “You want to live?” a voice asked in my ear. “Shut up, and come with me.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Seconds later, the mystery figure pulled me into a restroom located on the second floor. Light streamed through the window at the end of the bathroom, and except for a tiny spider in the corner, the place was abandoned.

  My attacker held me close, one arm so tight against my mouth that my teeth imprinted on my lips. The arm cinching around my waist made it difficult to breathe. I tried to ask questions, plead my case, but I couldn’t speak.

  “I said shut up,” a voice said, low and masculine. I still hadn’t caught a glimpse of his face, but judging by the bottom of his pant legs and some heavy-duty working boots, he might belong to the construction crew or janitorial service.

  “This can be easy.” He twisted me around, throwing me unceremoniously against the wall. One of his hands covered my mouth, and the other held me back by my shoulders. “I’m going to let go of your mouth. If you scream, you will see the wrong end of this.”

  My eyes followed his down to the shiny metal object at his waist. A chill snaked down my spine, icy fingers gripping my insides as I forced my gaze back to his. I gave a single, understanding nod. Even if I’d wanted to speak, I doubt I could have; my lips, my body, my thoughts were frozen in place.