Dead and Disorderly (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 2)

by Craig, Alexis D.

  It was all he could do not to laugh a little at the fact that the bag was almost taller than she was. “I really appreciate you letting me stay tonight.”

  She scoffed and winked as she walked by him back into the living room. “Of course. Your family’s at your house, I take it?”

  He shrugged and dropped onto the couch, immediately enveloped in the comfy cushions and a sense of peace he knew would be lacking at his house. It’s not that he minded being put out on behalf of his family, he just needed some space in his head to process the loss he knew wouldn’t be available to him anywhere else but here. “Yeah, for a couple days. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Nahia brought him a beer from the fridge, shoving the lid she’d twisted off in her pocket before dropping down next to him and cuddling into his side. “You’re kidding, right? Stay as long as you need to, my house is open to you.”

  He dropped an arm around her shoulder as he drained half the beer in a single draught. “Just your house?”

  She turned her face to him with a wry grin, nuzzling his chin. “We can negotiate rent later.”

  He laughed, and she rose from the couch to go to the breakfast bar. After finishing the beer, he, too, got up and walked over to drop the bottle into the recycling bin. “Whatcha got going on there?”

  She was seated in front of a metal tin that looked like it had met with the business end of an industrial can opener, and in her hands were papers folded in three like they might have been letters. He picked up a bundle of envelops wrapped in a faded silk ribbon which might have been blue at one time, but was now grey and frayed. The paper was translucent it was so thin and old. “Where’d you get these?”

  She gingerly took the letters from him and put everything back into the box. Then she sighed heavily, looking down at the table like she was unwilling to meet his gaze. “I didn’t want to bring this up until after the funeral.”

  “A little late now,” he mused. He looked them and the box over before taking a seat next to her. “So…where’d they come from?” The suspicion he had only greatened as she chewed her lip and fought the urge to wring her hands. Still, he wanted her to say it.

  Finally, Nahia looked up at him, resolved. “They came from the house.”

  So he was right, but somehow that wasn’t terribly comforting. “Okay. I didn’t see you grab anything when we were there. When’d you get ‘em?”

  “Today.”

  Nico watched her lips tighten as she looked at him. He was paid fairly decent money to spot better liars than her, but she wasn’t lying. He pulled up a chair and faced her, taking her hand in both of his. He’d fought with enough women to know the key was starting mellow and hoping to keep it there. The idea of her alone in the house was enough to make him want to start turning over furniture. He refrained, however, content to just rub her hands between his. “You went back to the house today. We talked about this.”

  She nodded, her eyes falling to their joined hands. “Nigel was with me.”

  While that didn’t change the fact she’d ignored the danger outright, he felt marginally better knowing she’d had armed back up with her, even if it wasn’t him. He knew they’d gone on hunts before, but he’d gotten the impression that was well beyond her usual spook walks. “Okay. And where did you pull the box from?”

  “The garage,” she answered instantly with a decisive nod that never actually lifted her downturned face. “We didn’t go into the house.”

  Nico scrubbed a hand down his face and laughed slightly. Okay, while she hadn’t explicitly violated his trust, she’d skated a lot closer than his comfort level could let slide. And he didn’t even want to think about how she’d gotten into the garage to retrieve the box. “Do I want to know how you got into the garage?”

  The shake of her head was so quick; he thought he might have imagined it had her braid not moved. “Would you believe the door was open?”

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed his forehead as he fought off a laugh, not wanting to encourage her. “After you got done with it, I assume?”

  “Yeah.” She had all the contrition of a grounded teenager, pulling her hand from his and folding it in her lap.

  “I would have expected better from Nigel.” Understatement of the year, but he would talk to her best friend later. “Did you find anything interesting?” He inclined his head toward the offending item.

  Nahia smiled, lifting her eyes to him tentatively. “Nothing that can’t wait.” All of her contrition gone, her leg began to bounce with nervous energy as her eyes darted between him and the box.

  Poised between his lingering irritation and her obvious impatience to talk about it, he decided to relent, if for no other reason than he was here for a couple days anyway, and it was easier to be forgiving when she was doing him such a great favor. “Well, go ahead. Tell me.”

  Her eager grin lit her whole face as she pulled the box back out and regaled him with the tale of garage, breaking and entering and all. “So the ghost painted the pictures.”

  She shrugged as she laid out the letters in order by date on the postmark. “That’s what he said. I would assume they were done while he was still alive, I don’t know. The dead paint, the dead don’t paint, jury’s still out.”

  His lips twitched. Nahia was on fire now, happy to be able to tell him everything. “So aside from discussing the relative artistic merits of his murals, he have anything else to say? Why he’s still here?” He opened the first letter, the powdery floral scent of an old fragrance hitting his nostrils immediately. It was a letter from a woman, Thea, to her Dearest Love Aurie, pages of ‘I miss you’s, ‘I love you’s, all framed around life in rural Shropshire, England as she cared for her terminally ill mother. It was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking.

  “Yeah, he wanted justice for his wife.” Nahia got up and went to her bedroom, only to return a moment later with the folder he’d brought her their first night after the hunt. She had on the most garish pair of silver cat-eye reading glasses he’d ever seen, and he ducked back down into another letter to keep her from seeing his smile at her expense. His beautiful eccentric, she brought sunshine into his life, even unintentionally.

  “You know what he was talking about?” He didn’t look up as he asked, sipping his beer and reading about the plight of a woman losing her mother to brain cancer without her husband by her side. He’d stayed behind to work because they couldn’t both afford to be gone for so long. Nico swallowed hard at the anguish he read with each stroke of her pen.

  Nahia shook her head, pulling off her glasses to chew on an earpiece. “No idea, but the more I read right now, the more my eyes cross. I gotta call it a day. How ‘bout you?”

  He folded the letters carefully, and replaced them in their envelopes with delicacy. These were the remains of someone’s life, two people’s lives, really, and they would be treated with respect as far as he was concerned. “Yeah, Nye. I think that’s a plan.”

  Watching as she replaced the contents of the box and then lined the whole thing in salt, he just shook his head. There were some things that even a detective knew better than to ask. This definitely qualified.

  Nahia left him in the bedroom as she wandered through the apartment collecting their bottles and dousing lights. He’d stripped down to his boxers and was brushing his teeth when she slid her soft little hands around his waist and nuzzled her face against his bare back. She felt safe, like his world was at peace when he’d never really known he was in chaos, definitely something to fight for. After rinsing his mouth, he turned around, looping his arms around her in a mirror image of her stance. She, too, had changed into her nightwear, this time a tight cutoff pink tank top and a pair of black cotton shorts that could double as a Jolly Roger flag on a toy sailboat.

  “I want to apologize for earlier, too.” She raised her eyebrow and he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “About that scene with my mom. I know she means well—”

  “She does. She loves you, wants the best for you. You can
’t fault her that.” The unexpressed hurt he could tell she felt was in the way her eyes shone a little brighter and her smile seemed a little tremulous, but she stepped back into the room before he could look more closely. “She’s looking out for you.”

  “She doesn’t have to.” Nico followed her and found her on her side in bed; the only light left on was the one on his side of the bed. It was a novel thought to entertain that they both had preferred sides of the bed together. He slid under the covers and tugged lightly at her shoulder until she turned over to face him. She might have been crying, which hurt him to his soul, but he could only tell from the red eyes and occasional sniffle. He covered her mouth with a brief kiss, whispering against her lips when he pulled away, “I don’t agree with her. She doesn’t speak for me. I make my own decisions.”

  He waited to lie down until she nodded again; her jaw clenched in some emotion he hoped wasn’t upset or sadness. Confirmation came when she grinned and turned over on her side, pulling him close behind her with their fingers laced. It was becoming a tradition, apparently. She pulled his hand to her lips, brushing a kiss across his knuckles before taking his fingers and sucking them into her mouth one at a time.

  “So,” she wriggled her delectable behind over parts of him that were joining the party with much gusto, “made any other decisions?” Her look of exaggerated innocence over her shoulder told him he wasn’t going to be sleeping for awhile. Not that he minded.

  The morning of the funeral was rainy and grey, with condensation collecting on the windows of Nahia’s apartment. Trying to keep the anxiety at bay, she went through the ritual of making coffee and showering before she addressed what she was going to wear. Given her less than stellar introduction to his family— Nonna and Jules notwithstanding— she wasn’t sure if she should go with him to the funeral and maybe meet up with him at the reception afterward.

  The warm scent of his cologne wafted out of the bathroom after his shower, floating through her room and wrapping around her like a warm embrace as she sorted through dresses in her closet to find something appropriate to wear. It’d been a long time since she’d been to a funeral Mass, and the last thing she wanted to do was cause any more drama for his family. They had more than enough going on without her intervention.

  She was on her third choice when Nico’s strong arms wrapped around her waist, and he buried his face in her neck with a contented sigh. Humming a gentle laugh, she reached up and trailed her fingers down his freshly shaven cheek as she reveled in the warm and slightly damp heat of his chest at her back. “You hanging in there?”

  He nodded against her shoulder, his lips burning as they wandered across her shoulder and up the side of her neck. She was glad she’d clipped her hair up into a half knot to allow him access. “I’m all right. Just gotta get through the day.”

  Nahia nodded in silent understanding. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his wet hair. “You sure you want me there? I don’t want to cause your family any upset. You know, your mom… Today’s really not—” Her words were interrupted by his lips lightly brushing over hers.

  His dark eyes were serious as he stared her down. “All that matters is I want you there with me. I need you there with me.”

  “Then I’ll be there.” She laid one hand over his at her waist as she held up another dress, this one black, knee length, with a Mandarin collar and short sleeves. The shiny black silk caught her eye from the depths of her closet. It was form fitting, but not trashy and she could throw on some stockings and heels and make it work without any serious effort.

  Holding it up for Nico’s approval, she giggled at his growled, “Oh yes.”

  Nahia folded it over her arm and reached into the closet for a purse to go with the ensemble. “Should I cover my head?” Her initial plan had been to roll her hair into a conservative bun, much in the same vein as the day before, but she wasn’t sure. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that this was probably going to be an old school Latin Rite service, but still, the rules were a bit fuzzy to her.

  He held her for a moment longer before stepping away and working on getting dressed himself. “I wouldn’t think so. It’s Holy Rosary.” He said that like it was supposed to mean something to her, but it was hard to pay attention when he dropped the towel and stepped into a pair of boxer briefs that were truly more display than underwear.

  Damn, but he made it look good. It took a bit to shimmy into all her garb— the usual bra and thong in addition to the garter belt and stockings. Nahia thought he was going to faint when she smoothed on her stockings and hooked each clip into place. Just to tease him, she threw on her heels before she pulled the dress off the hanger.

  She pranced over to stand in front of where he sat on the bed, striking a sassy pose with her hands on her hips and her chest stuck out. “Anything I can help you with there, sir?”

  Nico’s startled blink and his watch hitting the carpet as it slipped from his fingers was a most gratifying response. Chuckling, she walked back over to the closet and wiggled into her dress. It was a tight fit, but not indecent, and when she turned around to see his appreciative, slightly glazed stare, as well as his watch still on the floor, she felt amazing. She strutted over and bent down in front of him to grab his watch, depositing it on the bed beside him.

  She finally walked into the bathroom to deal with her hair, smirking as she heard him begin to move again only after she closed the door. He was too easy.

  The rest of the morning went quickly as they finished getting ready, finally leaving the house at just past eleven. The funeral wasn’t until noon, but as a pallbearer, he’d wanted to arrive early, in case anyone needed anything. That’s how he was, putting aside his own grief to tend to those he felt were suffering more.

  Nahia caught a reflection of her and Nico in the glass doors of the church. He was a tall and imposing figure, sharply-dressed in his fine black suit with his burgundy tie and sunglasses. She was by his side, only as tall as his shoulder, in her Mary Jane heels that matched the soft silk of her semi-slinky dress. What struck her was not his arm slung casually around her waist as they walked, which had become as natural and expected to her as breathing, but how right they looked together. Like perfectly matched puzzle pieces. The thought made her smile, and he returned her grin with a subdued one of her own as he held the door to the church and ushered her inside.

  The funeral was beautiful, full of the pomp and circumstance befitting a lady who had done so much for the city, in addition to providing— along with her dearly departed husband Joe— incredible Italian food for more than half a century. The chapel was packed to capacity, with all sorts of local dignitaries in attendance. The eulogies were heartfelt and loving, including even the mayor, who’d taken his wife to Ianucci’s on their first date over twenty years ago.

  Though she felt odd being seated with the family, and Carlotta and his father had not been impressed in the slightest, Nico’s hand never left hers. She’d passed him tissues during some of the more intense moments of the memorial service, and even had to dab her own eyes a few times. The love of the entire city was felt in the church that day, a comforting embrace, both public and private.

  The procession was an endless three miles long to the cemetery for the graveside service, and the sun had finally shown up like a tardy student. Nico, along with Mrs. Ianucci’s sons Peter and Paul, her grandson Simon, plus two other strapping young grandsons, carried the ornate mahogany coffin from the hearse to the burial site. It was warm enough outside she worried for their collective health. When Nico rejoined her and the rest of the family in the seating next to the hole in the ground, he looked wilted and distressed.

  Fortunately the priest, in equally warm full vestments of a black cassock and blazing white surplice, saw the wisdom in cutting the service a little bit short in light of the blazing sun and rising afternoon temperatures. Afterward, everyone returned to the restaurant for a meal, though given the level of grief, Nahia wasn’t sure that were would
be much eating.

  Nico was silent on the ride back downtown, but she didn’t begrudge him the time. It was an intensely emotional day, and she didn’t want to intrude on his thoughts with her questions and observations. The mood at the restaurant, however, was not what she’d expected at all.

  Peter greeted them at the door with an affectionate hug for Nico and a kiss on the cheek for her. “My mother,” he said in a basso profundo which seemed out of place on a man so slight, “wouldn’t have wanted sadness ruling the day. Eat, dance, and be joyful for the life you have. Because it’s not the years in your life—”

  “It’s the life in your years,” Nico finished for him with a sad smile and a slight sniffle. They were the first words he’d spoken since the cemetery. His hand on her back as he escorted her inside gave her a feeling of comfort, like everything was going to be okay, and Nahia began to relax for the first time since before they’d gotten dressed.

  They joined his family at the table, his mother and Nonna already seated, and she took off for the bar to get them both some much-needed fortification. As soon as she walked up, Simon smiled and started working on their drinks without a word. The room was filling with the mouthwatering smell of garlic and tomatoes as varying dishes were being brought in from the back and laid out on a buffet table on the far side of the room.

  “So you’re a regular, huh?”

  Nahia turned to see a diminutive young woman with a mass of curly black hair, just a shade younger than herself, wearing a smart black suit with a deep azure blouse and a smile she recognized as indicative of a Verrazzano. “I…suppose we are. Are you doing okay, Jules?”

  The younger woman nodded, and then moved her mass of curls out of her face. “I’m good. I just feel so bad for Nonna. She lost her best friend. Did you know they talked almost every day?”

  Nahia shook her head. “That’s really sad. She had a good life here, though, from what I can tell.” When Simon returned with her drinks, she slid a five across the bar from her purse and handed a tissue to Jules, who accepted it gratefully.