Lacey Luzzi: Sauced: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 4)

by Gina LaManna

  “Are you serious?” Horatio said. “I know exactly where that is. That’s a few doors down from my grandma’s farm – and by a few doors, I mean the place is miles away, but literally nobody lives out there. I think I might even remember seeing the stand one time. Never stopped if I did, though. Probably should. I love a good sauce. Especially a nice, spicy Poup—”

  “Can you tell me how to get there?” I asked.

  “Sure thing. Just follow 36W,” Horatio leaned far too close for my comfort and drew out a map of the Twin Cities area, then extended it to Stillwater, a quaint little town that guarded the border between Minnesota and Wisconsin, looking pretty in the summer months and charming during the winter chill.

  “Great. I think I know how to get there now,” I said. “Stillwater’s pretty small – there’s only about two roads going in and out of the place, so I’m sure I can find it.”

  “Just ask anyone around there. They all know each other, so if there’s a Dave out there, they’ll know,” Horatio nodded. “This is my grandma’s number. Call her if you need to.”

  “That is very sweet,” I said, meaning it. “I really appreciate your help.”

  “Can’t believe you guys don’t use maps,” Horatio said. “I mean, that’s half the fun.”

  I wrinkled my nose, and Clay also appeared to disagree.

  “Anyway, I best be off,” Horatio said. “I have a family event tonight that I unfortunately cannot miss, though I’d love to stick around longer.”

  “That’s okay,” Clay said. “I have to go, too.”

  “You do?” I asked. “Where? You don’t want to ride out to Dave’s with me?”

  “I have to go do something,” Clay said. “Sorry. Why don’t you call Meg?”

  “Yeah, I was going to,” I said. “But the more the merrier. Anyway, thanks for the info, guys. It’s very helpful. Clay, maybe we can talk more tonight?”

  “Of course,” he said, already on his feet and headed towards the door.

  Horatio followed him closely, and I waved as they exited the room.

  I sat back, staring at the map. Maybe I should call Anthony first? I pulled up his number on my phone, thinking I should at least touch base with him on the fireworks issue before heading out to the boonies. Plus, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to let him know where I’d be. Who knew if my phone would work up at Dave’s stand? Also, if he gave Clay the address, maybe he’d have tips on how to find the place.

  Standing, I decided to make myself a sandwich, call Anthony, and then pick up Meg, all in that order. I was assuming Meg could go, which was a pretty fair assumption. As an ex-cop and current bar owner, most of her work was at night. And most of her work hours were spent sipping cocktails at her bar and shooting the breeze with her patrons.

  I debated resting a moment before eating, but one look around the living room, and I realized that wouldn’t be happening. There was no place to sit. Clay and Horatio had moved the furniture into all the wrong spots. Computers were piled high on the couch, the armchair in the corner housed a blinking tower that was slightly intimidating, and the floor was rife with wires and cords in all colors of the rainbow.

  Sandwich it is, I thought, heading to the kitchen. I dug behind Tupac for a container of mustard, squirted a blob of ketchup on a piece of pasty white bread, and for lack of anything more interesting, I added a leftover hunk of meat from one of Clay’s more recent beef bowls. Satisfied with my concoction, I moseyed over towards my room, resigned to eat on my bed. But as I passed by the living room, the laying desk caught my attention. Yes, it looked a little bit like a death trap, but I also was a bit curious as to how it worked. Treading carefully over cords and wires, I maneuvered my way to the machine.

  There was a long, internal debate in my head about whether or not climbing in would be a bright idea. However, as usual, my curiosity won out, and I set my sandwich beside the chair. Wiggling my butt into where I thought the seat might go, I adjusted my arms and legs until I was eighty percent sure I was sitting right side up.

  Not bad, I thought. It wasn’t exactly like I held a steady desk job and was in need of the contraption, but I could see the appeal of such a thing. Lying down was probably better than sitting all day for a person’s neck, especially if that person had a head the size of Clay’s. If only it reclined a bit...

  I reached for my phone and pulled it out. It was more comfortable than I expected here, so I might as well give Anthony a call before I finished my sandwich and headed out to meet Meg.

  I pressed dial, and it didn’t take long for the deep, rolling voice of Anthony to answer.

  “Hey there, buddy,” I said. “I was just calling to say hi.”

  “Mmm.”

  “You don’t believe me,” I retorted.

  “Doll, you never call to just say hi.” I could picture Anthony’s cheek quirking up with a small smile.

  “That’s not true,” I said, unable to help the grin pulling at my lips.

  “You’ve called me to help catch murderers. You’ve called me for a ride. You’ve even called me because you thought there was a tarantula in your bedroom. But no, sugar. You haven’t called me just to say hi.”

  “It was a really big sock in my bedroom,” I said, playing absentmindedly with some of the levers on the chair. “It looked like a tarantula. It was fluffy.”

  “What do you want?” Anthony asked, his voice teasing but also curious. “I’m available to help catch spiders whenever you’d like. As long as you’re alone in your bedroom.”

  “Uh, well. Like I said, I was just calling to say hi. So I’m going to hang up now.” I clicked the hang up button on my phone before I could chicken out.

  Anthony brought out the stubborn streak in me, whether it was during hard workouts at the gym or playful banter over the phone. I looked down at my phone. I didn’t want to admit that there was a small part of me hoping he’d call back. Yeah, yeah, it was such a sixteen-year-old girl thing to do: hang up the phone on purpose, and then hope your boyfriend magically knew to call you back. Wait a second, Lacey, I told myself. He is not your boyfriend. Not yet.

  “Co-worker,” I whispered to myself. “Co-worker.”

  Like I needed reminding. Despite recent advancements in our relationship, we were still in unsure waters. I thought Anthony liked me most days, but there were other times when I couldn’t even pretend that I knew what was going on in that thick skull of his. He went from saying he wanted to date me, to not seeing me for a week straight. Sure, he had a demanding job but still, a girl had to wonder.

  My phone beeped and my heart leapt into my throat. Immediately, I blushed and forced myself to not look at the screen. It was stupid to assume that the ring was Anthony – I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t a teenaged girl with a crush.

  Dang it. I looked at the screen.

  ANTHONY.

  My heart melted a little bit. He called me back!

  “Hello?” I answered, only a bit out of breath.

  “Where are you?” he asked, not sounding as annoyed as I would have expected.

  “I’m at home,” I said much too quickly. “Alone.”

  “Why are you out of breath?”

  “I’m not,” I said, hiding as much of the nervousness in my voice as I could. He called me back! I couldn’t believe it. I was as happy as if he’d asked me to prom. “In fact, I’m sitting in this new contraption that Clay invented.”

  “Does it explode?” Anthony’s voice tinged with worry. It was a valid question – one of the last things Clay’d invented came in the form of a sparkly dress and had nearly blown me to shreds in a Vegas wedding chapel. Again, different story.

  “No, it’s perfectly safe!” I rested my hand on the lever that looked like an armrest. “It’s a laying desk. For the lazy person.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, possibly because Anthony was a gym trainer and the least lazy person I knew. He was not a member of the chair’s target audience, or the type of guy who would appreciate this t
ype of thing, but I barely noticed his judgmental silence because the lever I’d thought was an armrest had begun to move.

  I tried to sit up and find the Off button, but there was no Off button to be found. Or even a button that said On. Or any buttons at all.

  “Crap,” I said. “Crapola.”

  “Why do you need a laying desk?” Anthony asked, distracting me from my task.

  “It’s not for me.” I tried to slide out of the chair, but the lever had caused my feet to tip up, and my head to tilt back, and I was almost in the position of a handstand. Except the bar across my lap was squeezing my thighs so tight I didn’t need to use my hands. Instead, I grasped the bar and yanked, trying to get it to loosen up.

  “What’s wrong?” Anthony said. “Exhausted from browsing the Internet?”

  “Funny,” I said. “Except, I think I’m stuck.”

  Another beat.

  “Stuck,” I said. “I’m stuck here.”

  “Do you need help?” Anthony asked.

  “No.” That was a lie. My face was turning beet red, and I was getting mighty uncomfortable. Not to mention, my sandwich was out of reach.

  “I’ll come over and help you out of that thing,” Anthony said. “On one condition.”

  “How far away are you?” I asked. “Because how long I have to wait for you to get here directly affects that condition.”

  “I’m five minutes away, and the condition is you tell me what you initially called for.”

  “You want me to admit I didn’t call you just to say hi,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Not fair,” I grunted. However, both literally and figuratively, I was in no position to argue at the moment. “I called to talk about the fireworks.”

  “That wasn’t so hard,” Anthony growled. “I’ll be outside in three minutes.”

  “I thought you said five,” I said. “And the door is locked. Maybe call Clay for a key—”

  A dial tone met my ear.

  “Right,” I muttered. “Keys not necessary.”

  Chapter 3

  My head felt as if it were about to pop off my neck by the time I heard the wiggle of my door knob.

  “Anthony?” I called loudly. “Help! I’m in here.”

  Footsteps made their way in my direction, though my balance and perception was a bit off due to the large amount of blood pounding in my ears from having my feet so high above my head for three minutes.

  A short burst of laughter badly disguised as a cough was the first sign that Anthony was in the room. I forced my eyeballs to roll towards the door, taking in the delicious sight of my rescuer. And what a good looking rescuer he was. Even upside down, I could tell that he had a figure most men would kill for and most girls would love to drool on. Dark hair covered a really good looking head up above; Anthony’s eyes were a chocolaty brown that leaned towards mocha when he was excited, and a bit more like espresso when he was focused or upset. Now, however his eyes sparkled, Caramello-colored, with amusement.

  “Hey, can I get a little help here?” I asked, my voice coming out in an embarrassing, squeaky grunt.

  I was almost distracted from Anthony’s rude non-response by the way he raised his muscled arm to cover up a cute little smirk, and the way his black spandex shirt pulled tight across his taut abs. Yes, I could count his six-pack upside down. Honestly, I was impressed that even his nose didn‘t look terrible upside down. I mean, my nose struggled to look normal when it was right side up.

  “One second,” Anthony paused.

  I forced in a long deep breath. “Are you taking a picture?”

  “Why would I take a picture?” There was a click and a flash.

  I harrumphed. “Great. Have your fun. Now, can you please unhook me? I’m worried about my brain.”

  “Are you sure you’re not more worried about that strange looking sandwich that’s just out of your reach?” Anthony asked, nodding towards my food experiment.

  “I am a little worried about it, actually. The bread will get soggy from the ketchup if I don’t get down soon.”

  “Who puts bread on their ketchup?”

  “I put ketchup on my bread – oh, a joke. You’re funny. I like ketchup on my ketchup. Now seriously, help a girl out.”

  Anthony walked like a lithe jaguar across the living room floor, which looked more dangerous than a minefield. Where I was rather clumsy in my movements, he strolled through the intricate path with ease.

  “How does this work? Which button is it?” he asked, examining the machine.

  “Oh, gee,” I said sarcastically. “You know, if I knew which button to press, I probably could have gotten myself out of this mess without needing your help.”

  “I can slide you out, but I might have to touch your butt,” he said, a stern look on his face.

  “Permission granted, just get me out,” I agreed.

  Anthony didn’t hesitate for a moment longer, slipping one arm behind my neck and cradling my head, his other sliding over my waist. Jiggling a few levers, he managed to get the side of the contraption open just wide enough to slip me through the machine’s death grip. Before he set me down, he gave my rear end a pinch.

  At my glare, he shrugged.

  “My fee,” he said as an explanation.

  “Thank you so much,” I said, gasping as I leaned over, my hands resting on my knees. I was too relieved to stay mad. “I couldn’t have lasted much longer in there.”

  “Anytime.” One of Anthony’s hands still held my hips, while the other rested on my shoulder, steadying me until I straightened up.

  “I’m good now,” I said. “You can let go. And for the record, you didn’t need to touch my butt to get me out of there, mister.”

  “Like I said, just collecting payment.” Anthony gave my left cheek one last squeeze before stepping back and watching me closely, probably making sure I could hold myself up. Either that or he was checking me out.

  I pushed the thought away.

  “Are you going to eat that?” Anthony wrinkled his nose as I picked up my sandwich.

  “Yes,” I said. “And you can watch. Let’s go into the kitchen. I have to talk to you.”

  I glanced behind me as we walked together towards the kitchen, making sure his eyes didn’t rest too long on my rear end. Only partially satisfied with the results, I gestured at my new partner to sit down at the kitchen table. “Want something to drink?”

  “Do you have anything for me to drink?” Anthony asked.

  “No.” I crossed my arms.

  “I’m fine, then,” Anthony said. “Are you feeling okay? You’re not dizzy?”

  I was a bit dizzy from my close proximity to Anthony, and I had a bit of an emotional overload from the butt-squeeze a few moments ago, but I replied, “Nah, I’m fine.”

  “Good. So, what did you want to talk about?” He leaned back, and I wondered if he could sense the pitter-patter of my racing heart.

  “Oh, right. Work.” I took a huge, tasty bite of my now floppy sandwich. “What do you know about this firearms thing?”

  “Firearms?” Anthony looked genuinely interested.

  “Fireworks,” I said. “I mean fireworks. Carlos said he assigned you to be my new partner for this assignment, which is very awesomely due for completion on or before the Fourth of July barbecue. Or else.”

  “We can figure it out,” Anthony said. His shoulders alone had more confidence than my entire body.

  “Okay,” I said. “But I have no information on it whatsoever, except that there’s a truckload of illegal fireworks flowing through the Cities and Carlos has a source that’s telling him these fireworks are going to be broken down and used to build a bomb. I’m guessing he thinks that one of the fireworks displays – probably the one at the Capitol, if I had to guess – will be getting a display they didn’t plan on.”

  “Why do you say that?” His previously relaxed gaze sharpened as he leaned towards me. “The part about the Capitol?”

  “Why else wou
ld Carlos give us such a strict deadline?” I asked. “If it wasn’t imperative to saving people’s lives, why would he give it such a tight turnaround? On all my other cases, timing is one thing that has been fairly flexible.”

  “Fair point,” Anthony said. “Though it’s possible he could have another reason for putting a deadline on it.”

  “Look, do you have more information on this or not? I thought we were supposed to be working together,” I said. “You have to help me out.”

  “I just did. I freed you from the laying desk, as a matter of fact.” Anthony reached out a hand and pushed back a strand of hair from my face.

  I wanted to act upset at his comment, but the most I could muster was a halfhearted sigh.

  “We are working together, doll,” Anthony said. “I’ll tell you what I’ve got.”

  I chewed another decent-sized bite of my sandwich. “Go ahead,” I mumbled through the bread. I managed to keep my mouth mostly shut. My mother, God rest her soul, would have been proud.

  “I don’t have much else,” Anthony said.

  My shoulders slumped. “Great. Neither of us knows anything. We’re doing really well on this assignment.”

  “Relax.” Anthony brushed what I hoped was a breadcrumb from my cheek. Or maybe he was just trying to comfort me. His actions were sometimes confusing.

  “I have my men on it,” Anthony said. “I’m expecting a phone call anytime now with some preliminary information. I sent them to investigate a warehouse this morning, and if I’m correct, we may have found the location where they’re stockpiling the fireworks.”

  “Already? Wow, your men work fast.”

  Anthony smiled. “They’re good at what they do.”

  “Well, you’re their boss, so that makes you the best at what you do.” I gave him a genuine smile. The two of us sat in awkward silence, not quite sure where to go after an actual compliment. It was so much easier to carry on a conversation based on flirtatious banter than it was to talk about real things.

  Luckily, Anthony’s phone pinged and we were both spared the necessity of coming up with a forced response.