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

by Gina LaManna

  “Halloween…the girl who fell off my steps?”

  “That was me, too,” I said, cringing. “I was thrown off by the pictures of Anthony that I could see on your wall, so I ran—”

  “—you stumbled away screaming,” Jackson said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it like that,” I grumbled. “But I suppose it was more of a stumble than a run at that point. It’s just…I didn’t want to meet you like that. Under those circumstances.”

  Anthony made a noise on the ground. “Yes, because these circumstances are so much better.”

  I patted his head. “I don’t have a good response to that.”

  “I had it all wrong.” Jackson’s mouth, cheeks, face fell slack. “I nearly shot my daughter.”

  “You did shoot my boyfriend,” I said. “Which is pretty extreme, even for the Luzzi household. The most Carlos has done is ask to see my former date’s bank statements.”

  Jackson backed away, looking quite faint.

  I pressed a kiss to Anthony’s forehead, whispered an apology and a hang tight in his ear, and stood to help Jackson Cole balance. He wobbled too much to stand on his own two feet at the moment.

  “You don’t know that you got it all wrong,” I said, trying to find the silver lining. “In fact, Oleg is tied up in the back of the van. I don’t know what your plans were for him, but you shouldn’t shoot him. You’re FBI. That can’t be allowed. But maybe you can ask him a few questions. And I hate to say it, but I have the sneaking suspicion Oleg might not be your guy.”

  Reminding Jackson about his purpose for being here in the first place seemed to help. A sliver of life came back to his eyes, and his legs steadied. He let go of me, walking to the back of the van. “He’s tied up?”

  “Should be,” I said. “But you never know. It’s always good to double check.”

  Jackson carefully peered through the van window. Then he picked up his gun from the ground, swung the door open, and shouted, “Don’t move!”

  The driver sat off in the corner wearing almost a bored expression. He nodded towards the other lump on the floor. “That one is Oleg. I was just hired to drive him from A to B. Talk about more trouble than this gig was worth.”

  “What do you want with me?” Oleg asked. “Because whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I haven’t done anything since I got out of hotel-jail. Forty-two days in that family’s prison is enough to make anyone turn into a good little mechanic.”

  “Except kidnap me,” I piped up, over Jackson’s shoulder. “Which got Anthony shot, and speaking of, where are those dang paramedics?”

  “Well, yeah, that,” Oleg said. “But the second part of that was an accident, and not my fault.”

  “A few months ago,” Jackson said, “my former partner, and my best friend, was killed in his home. His murder was never solved. But I’ve used some…nontraditional sources to trace you down. Someone saw you there. Someone saw you leave that day.”

  “I don’t know what your sources are,” Oleg said. “But it couldn’t have been me. I was framed.”

  Jackson crossed his arms. But that little niggle of doubt, the one started by all the events from today, was still there in his eyes.

  “I don’t think he’s lying.” I took a step closer. “If your friend was killed any time after the Fourth of July, I’m fairly certain we would’ve known about it. My cousins, my family – we have had a constant watch on Oleg since the beginning of July, at least up until Halloween, when he disappeared. So if it the murder happened between July and October, it likely wasn’t Oleg.”

  “Then who was it?” Jackson asked. “Why would they frame you?”

  “I don’t know!” Oleg cried. “It wasn’t me. I don’t know you, I don’t even know the name of this person, your friend. I’ve never killed anyone in my life. The closest I’ve come is when I gave this girl’s fat friend a hole in her butt.”

  “She’s not fat,” I said. “And it was a butt scratch, not a hole.”

  Jackson looked momentarily confused.

  “You don’t want to know,” Anthony chimed in. “Don’t ask.”

  “I may have an idea about who you can talk to,” I said softly. “Oleg worked for a very, very bad man. A man who goes by the name of The Fish. It would’ve been easy enough for The Fish to frame Oleg without his knowledge, while Oleg was, uh, staying in our Luzzi Hotel.”

  Jackson looked crestfallen. “I’m all wrong. I’ve got everything wrong.”

  “You don’t.” I took a chance, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder. “But we really don’t have any more time for small talk now. We need to get Anthony medical attention. If you’d like to come with us, I’ll explain later.”

  After a long pause, he gave a single nod.

  “Good. You can ride with us, since I need help keeping an eye on Oleg,” I said. “Can you do that?”

  “Lacey…one more thing.” Jackson Cole said my name with a question in his voice, extending a hand and placing it lightly on my shoulder. “I’m sorry we met this way.” He glanced at Anthony and bit his lip. “And I’m sorry about your boyfriend. But I’m still glad we met.”

  “Me, too.” I paused, looking down. “Is it weird if I ask for a hug?”

  “Yes, it’s weird,” Anthony said. “He just shot me.”

  Jackson parted his arms. “I’m open to it.”

  I gave my father a quick embrace, the sensation an odd one. He didn’t feel like a dad, not yet. But then again, the past ten minutes had been quite the rollercoaster ride.

  “Can we continue the reunion later?” Anthony groaned. “I’m going to black out soon.”

  “Help me get him in the car,” I said to Jackson. “And leave Oleg’s driver-with-a-’tude by the side of the road. He can explain whatever he wants to the cops when they get here.”

  “How do you plan on going anywhere with those?” Jackson frowned at the deflated tires.

  “Oh.” I scratched my head. “Maybe we can take your car?”

  He shook his head. “Not enough space. But I have a spare tire, and maybe the van has one. You said help is coming? Can they bring tires?”

  “My cousin’s sending someone,” I said. “I’ll ask.”

  Anthony, face pale, pulled himself to his feet. He nodded at my dad. “Let’s get started. The two tires on this side for now. I’ll take the front, you take the back.”

  “Anthony, you’re hurt,” I said, reaching for him.

  “I’ll live. And the sooner we get out of here, the better.” Anthony composed his face into a grimace that didn’t quite reach smile status. “And I’m guessing you don’t know how to change a tire?”

  “You saw what happened at that Dairy Queen,” I mumbled, thinking back to Halloween. The last time we’d chased Oleg I’d gotten a flat. It hadn’t ended well, and I’d been forced to spend two hundred bucks on Dilly Bars and ice cream cake.

  “Exactly.” Anthony was already on his knees working at one of the tires. He called to Jackson. “Get your spare.”

  Five minutes later, both men were mid-tire change. Sometime during the maintenance, the whole event had turned into a battle of grunts, a test of wills, a race to finish first; the Olympics of tire changing. I shook my head at the two of them. Boys will be boys.

  But as they finished, Jackson gave Anthony a begrudging nod of approval. I hid a smirk of dark humor. If I was any other girl, my boyfriend might have been grilling with my dad on a nice summer afternoon, or having a beer during the football game. Not me. My boyfriend and long-lost father bonded over a high-speed car chase, a kidnapping, gunfire, and a tire change. Lucky girl? Maybe. Maybe not.

  “You’re looking pale. Let’s get you in the back,” Jackson said to Anthony. “You can watch Oleg from there; more space to lie down.”

  Anthony must’ve been in pain, because he didn’t argue. As my father and I helped Anthony tenderly into the back of the van, the strangest thought hit me. Maybe the apple really didn’t fall far from the tree. My father and I, we’d both b
een searching for the same man, after all. We both hunted down people for a living. Really, the only differences were that he carried a gun, while I leaned towards pepper spray, and he worked for the good guys, while arguably I worked for the bad guys.

  But more importantly, we’d both loved the same person.

  And now I knew that my mother’s stage name hadn’t been plucked from thin air; Honey had meant something. Something she’d given up for me.

  I stood in front of the van as a car whipped around the curve on the deserted road, careening to a stop in front of us. Mack braked hard, climbing from the Audi with a half-grin on his face.

  “I hear my new best buddy is injured. Move over, Lacey. I’m driving.” Mack faltered as he looked at the tires. “After we get those two tires changed.”

  “We don’t have any more tires,” I said. Dang, I’d never gotten around to asking Clay to send some.

  “Clay called me. I have a few in my car that’ll work.” Once again, my cousin was a step ahead of me.

  “I’ll help.” Jackson strode out from behind the van, where he’d been keeping an eye on our two captives. “Let’s get moving, we’ve gotta get Anthony to a doctor.”

  Jackson and Mack set to jacking up the other side of the vehicle, but the van didn’t budge.

  “Anthony’s got too much muscle.” Mack walked around the back of the van. “Hey you, big guy, get out. I can’t jack up the car with your fat ass lying in there.”

  Anthony sat up with a huge grin on his face. “Mack, you came back.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed this party for the world.” Mack extended his hand, helping Anthony from the van.

  Two minutes later, and we put him back inside.

  “All right. We’ve got four semi-functioning tires, let’s go,” I said. “Oleg, Anthony, and Jackson, you’re in the back—”

  “I’m driving,” Mack interrupted. “You get the passenger seat, Lacey.”

  “But Mack, your car…” I said. “What about the Audi?”

  “Move over, Lacey,” Anthony said. “Mack’s driving. We have to get out of here. Fast. And not lost.”

  “And I just so happen to know directions to a certain doctor that doesn’t feel the urge to report bullet holes to the cops…” Mack said. “Working for a woman with a payroll the size of Lizabeth’s has its perks.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m retired,” Jackson said from the backseat. “I shouldn’t be hearing any of this.”

  “Who’d you pick up?” Mack asked. “Hitchhiker?”

  I pushed away a smile. “Long story.”

  Mack laughed. “I’ll bet. Hang on tight, Anthony. We’re gonna fly.”

  Except, we didn’t fly.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. Just as I turned around to check on Anthony, four more shots rang out in the night, and the all-too-familiar hiss of deflating tires once again met my ears.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Anthony said. “Who is it now?”

  “Why don’t you go out and check?” Mack winked. “You’ve got one good shoulder left, yeah?”

  “Funny,” Anthony grunted. “Drive on the rims. I don’t care. We’re leaving.”

  “Oh, well, I guess we don’t have to look very hard,” Mack said, leaning forward over the steering wheel and squinting. “Someone’s coming towards us. With a gun. And, um, in a dress.”

  I closed my eyes, recognizing the figure as soon as Mack pointed her out.

  “Lacey, I rescued you!” Meg waved frantically, turning her walk into a jog as she shouted down the empty road. “You’re welcome!”

  I opened the door and got out. “Meg, we were already rescued. We were taking Anthony to a doctor.”

  Meg scrunched her nose. “You’re kidding me.” She glanced at the tires. “Whoops.”

  I sighed.

  “I thought that was weird,” Meg said. “I heard your call come in, and Clay said your tires were shot out. I was just now wondering to myself how you got them re-inflated.”

  “Anthony changed them, along with Mack and someone else.”

  “Oooh…well, darn it all. Isn’t Anthony shot? How did I miss all the excitement, once again?”

  I tried not to grimace. “You got here just in time.”

  “Lace, you aren’t mad at me, are you?” Meg cast a worried gaze in my direction. “I didn’t mean any harm. Like I said, I was there when you called Clay, and you sounded really worried…” She looked down at her feet. “He told me not to come, but I couldn’t just sit there and twiddle my fingers. I wanted to help.”

  I let my breath come out quickly. “Of course I’m not mad. You had good intentions. It’s just, we have to keep moving. Anthony’s hanging in there, but he’s hurt badly.”

  “And that was the other reason I came, even though I hate to admit it.” Meg’s eyes turned sad. “I realized I didn’t want Anthony to die. I wanted to save him too, even if only to keep you happy. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, me and him, but he’s a good dude. I hope he doesn’t die.”

  “Meg, he’s not going to die!”

  “Are you sure?” She crooked an eyebrow. “Are you positive?”

  “Meg.” I crossed my arms.

  “Just checking. I’m always here for support if you need it.”

  “Do you know how to change a car tire?” I gestured to our vehicle. “Because we could use some heavy lifting support at the moment.”

  “I have a better solution,” Meg said. “You can come in my vehicle.”

  “Where did you get a vehicle?”

  “Lizabeth had a double stretch limo in that fancy little garage of hers. I borrowed it.”

  “You stole a car from a client?” My eyebrows reached new heights. “Meg!”

  “No! I actually borrowed it this time.” She took a set of keys and jangled them in front of me. “Lizabeth gave me these.”

  “Can your limo fit…” I counted on my fingers, “five?”

  “Make that ten,” Meg said. “And you got a deal.”

  “I don’t need ten. Just five,” I said. “Where’s the car?”

  “I’ll pull it up. Hold tight.”

  “All right, troops.” I walked back to the van, opening the trunk. “We’re moving for the last time.” I gestured to the limo cruising past our car. “Anthony, your chariot awaits.”

  CHAPTER 32

  This is what Christmas should feel like: family, hot chocolate, the Trans-Siberian Orchestra pulsing through the stereo. Glancing around the table in the elegant, special-occasions-only dining room at Carlos’s estate, I relaxed for the first time since I’d received the initial phone call from Lizabeth a few days before.

  Though the freeze-your-nose-hair-off temperatures had been hard to get used to after the balmy California weather, I’d realized palm trees didn’t suit my style for the Christmas season. Turns out, I prefer a coating of white on the ground, just begging to be rolled into a snowman. And evergreen trees, branches sagging under piles of the fluffy flakes. I didn’t even mind the tunnels dug from the back of our door to the garage; because even though Nora and Carlos had enough money to buy the entire state of Minnesota, they hadn’t thought to build an attached garage. Go figure.

  But most importantly, the people filling the seats around the table made tonight special. Everyone, with a few exceptions, had dressed in the ugliest sweaters Nora could scrounge up from storage. Meg sat to my left, her sweater covered with enough pompoms to stuff a large teddy bear.

  Next to her sat Clay, whose sweater boasted two cats kissing under mistletoe made of rainbows. I didn’t quite follow the logic of that one, but he’d picked it out and seemed pretty proud about it, so I didn’t argue. Across the table sat Nora, enough tinsel lining her hair to receive communications from Mars, and though Carlos hadn’t agreed to a sweater, Nora had draped a blinking necklace of colorful mini-bulbs on his neck.

  Even Nicky, Marissa and Clarissa, Vivian and Joey, and Mack had gotten in the festive spirit and pulled sweaters over their Ch
ristmas best. A few other guards and friends sat at a second table behind us. Nora didn’t let anyone celebrate Christmas alone, whether it was her own family or the homeless man downtown. In her mind, everyone deserved a Christmas meal.

  Anthony sat to my right, also missing a sweater. But then again, he had an excuse. And that excuse was the sling that cradled his injured shoulder. Underneath the table, I kept his hand clasped in mine. I hadn’t let go since last night except for bathroom breaks and a brief moment in the makeshift doctor’s office at Lizabeth’s.

  “Lacey, come here,” Clay hissed, standing from his seat. “Follow me.”

  “Not now,” I said, reluctant to let go of Anthony’s hand. “We’re about to eat Christmas Eve dinner.”

  Between last night and today, a lot had happened. Our limo of haggard troops had returned to Lizabeth’s, where we’d met up with Clay and Tupac the Cat. Soon after, Lizabeth joined us with Harold and Poopsie, the former offering us the services of the best doctor in Southern California – no documentation required. I’d stayed by Anthony’s side as they’d stitched him up, declaring him “good as new.”

  “Lacey, come here,” Clay whispered again, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s important. I have to show you something.”

  “Can’t it wait?” I took a sip of my red wine, pretending to tune my cousin out. “I’m hungry.”

  He glared in my direction, so I focused on Carlos’s blinking necklace, hoping he’d get the picture.

  “Lacey, I’m warning you. Last chance.” Clay reached over and tapped me on the shoulder. “Come on. It’ll take one second.”

  “I’m trying to enjoy Christmas dinner,” I said. “Relax!”

  As for my father, he’d stuck around last night until the doctors assured us that Anthony would suffer no lasting damage from his injuries. I had a theory that Jackson Cole had only hung around due to some lingering guilt over shooting his daughter’s boyfriend, but after I’d reiterated a million times that everything would be okay, he finally relaxed. With one last apology, my father had bid his goodbyes, promising to be in touch soon.

  It was better this way. There was no rush to get to know one another. Plus at some point, we’d have to figure out what to do with Oleg. But that could wait. For now, our little criminal had come back to Hotel le Luzzi; he now had warm food and a bed to sleep in, so he couldn’t complain all that much. And more than anything, I just wanted to get Anthony healthy again. The rest would work itself out in time.