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

by Gina LaManna

  The way she said it made it sound as if she was confined to an uncomfortable closet. But what her customers didn’t know was that Meg’s backroom contained more cozy couches and chairs than I had in my apartment. Her television was large and in charge, and she had access to all the beverages, cherries and olives that she could consume. It was actually a pretty sweet setup.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll sleep on an ottoman. Heck, I’ll put a sheet on the bar and sleep here,” I said, gesturing towards the long wooden platform on which I leaned my elbow. “I just need a place to crash. I’m heading back to Stillwater in the morning, and it’d be nice if I could just wake up and get a move on.”

  Meg plunked down a frothy drink that looked somewhat like a piña colada, but smelled like a tequila bomb had exploded all over it. “Sure, whatever you need, hun. I’ll come with you. You don’t fool me – I know you need a vehicle.”

  “You’re the best,” I said, trying for a smile. It was a miserable attempt and Meg clucked at me in sympathy. “You can go, Clay,” I said. I wanted my voice to sound firm and sure, but it betrayed me and came out more as a series of sad sounding squeaks.

  “Are you sure…” Clay began, looking helplessly between me and Meg.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Meg said to Clay. She winked at me, and I gave her a grateful twitch of my lips that counted for a smile. “Lacey, finish your drink and then, I dunno, brush your teeth or lotion your head, or whatever you do before bed. Your lack of beauty routine baffles me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  I took a long sip of the surprisingly delicious beverage as Meg hooked her arm through Clay’s and marched him straight out of the bar. When she took over the bar, she had actually reduced the number of bouncers she kept on staff, and now I could see why. She made an excellent bouncer. The drink didn’t take long to slurp down, and I worried for a moment she’d laced it with crack. The thing was delicious. Then again, it could’ve just been an excessive amount of sugar. Sugar and crack had about the same effect on me. Not that I’d know anything about the latter – it wasn’t like I’d tried it.

  The quick consumption of the drink caused a brief, yet excruciating, cold headache. I hung my noggin between my legs for a moment, mostly because I couldn’t remember if the action supposedly cured nausea or cold freezes. Either way, it was worth a shot.

  When my brain was able to process thoughts once again, I stood up and deposited the empty glass in the sink behind the bar. I made my way to the bathroom attached to the living space behind the bar – it was closed off with “Employees Only” and “Do Not Enter” signs. No less than fifty sheets of paper were stapled to the door. There was even one gem that said “Beware of Bears.” Below the warning, the sign proceeded to list fifteen acceptable ways to deal with a bear encounter in the woods.

  Fitting, I couldn’t help but think, as I pushed the door open. Julio lay sprawled on the couch, watching the latest soccer match in some language that wasn’t English.

  “Hey,” I said. “I’m gonna sleep here tonight.”

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Uh, Meg’s outside right now. Do you need to man the bar or something?” I asked, hoping for a bit of privacy. I really just wanted to lie down and get some rest. I was exhausted.

  “Nah,” Julio said without moving the slightest muscle from his position sprawled all over the couch. “I’m good.”

  “Oh, uh, okay,” I said. “Do you sleep here, too?”

  “Sometimes,” he said.

  “Tonight?” I asked.

  “Dunno,” he said.

  Exasperated, I shook my head. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t rush,” he said.

  I made a mental note to tell Meg she ought to give Julio a friendliness lesson. I didn’t feel much loved by him at the moment. Shouldn’t bars strive to make their customers feel appreciated?

  I already knew Meg’s answer – you don’t count as a customer if you don’t pay.

  Opening my wallet, I found sixteen dollars and sixty-four cents. I left Julio to the screaming announcer on the television and snuck back into the main area of Shotz. I found a tip jar with a sign that read: “I need drinks, too! Tips are welcome. XO, Meg.”

  Dropping all of my money in the tip jar, I headed for the entrance. I’d cooled down some and though I wasn’t happy with Clay or Anthony at the moment, I didn’t need to act like a child. Plus, there was limited space at Meg’s bar, and I didn’t feel like sharing the couch with Julio. Now that I was thirty, I’d probably start to get cricks in my neck from pulling stunts like that. I wasn’t twenty-nine anymore, able to sleep on any surface I could find.

  If I could catch Clay before he took off, then I could sleep in my own bed, which was sounding better and better by the second. One step outside, however, and familiar voices speaking in low tones caught my attention. I wouldn’t call myself a psychic, but judging by the way Clay and Meg stood half hidden in the shadows and glanced around every now and then, particularly in the direction of the bar, it was clear they didn’t want to be overheard.

  I hung right inside the doorframe, sneaking peeks around the corner at the two of them every time I dared.

  Meg laid her hand on Clay’s wrist and leaned in, speaking forcefully. I could only make out snippets of the conversation, but it almost looked as if they were…flirting.

  “Let’s not tell her yet,” Meg said.

  “We have to,” Clay said, his voice dropping out for a moment. “—she’s miserable.”

  “One more day. She’ll find out at the—”

  At the what? I leaned forward to hear, but accidentally dislodged an empty beer can that’d been hidden next to the staircase. It clattered to the ground and all conversation seized for a moment. My heart pounded so hard in my chest I could feel it in my ears. My breaths became shallow, and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying they’d continue the conversation.

  Maybe I was being snoopy – okay, I was definitely being snoopy. But more and more, my Spidey Senses tingled. Actually, I needed a new word to replace Spidey. I didn’t even like spiders.

  Ooh! My Sugary Senses. Much better.

  More and more, my Sugary Senses were firing off alarms on all cylinders. Did Meg and Clay have a secret romance going on? It sure seemed like it. But could that really be the reason for all this secrecy? And if so, what did Anthony have to do with Meg and Clay’s love affair?

  “She’s going to hate it,” Clay said. “I told you we shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Do we really have a choice?” Meg asked.

  “Yes, we do,” Clay said.

  I peeked around the corner to see Meg’s response. I was internally cheering for them to work things out. When the opportunity came up, I’d tell them that I didn’t mind at all. I’d also mention that I hadn’t been snooping, but that I supported them both – individually and together as a couple. And that it was all because of my Sugary Senses and a lucky guess that I’d figured it out. Definitely not because I was a Snoop-a-saurus.

  I watched as Meg stepped forward, one arm still on Clay’s wrist. “I don’t feel like I have a choice.”

  “I can’t stand seeing Lacey miserable,” Clay said. “It all just feels…mean.”

  Get it, girl, I thought. At one point, I’d thought the two of them would make an insanely odd choice as a couple. Seeing them together now, however, I wasn’t so sure. They were both quirky and different and, beyond that, they were both kind. And they were both my friends.

  Ahh, I thought. Nothing like young love to melt residual anger away. I still hadn’t figured out Anthony’s involvement, but maybe he’d caught them kissing and they’d asked him not to tell. Anthony was many things, but a liar he was not. Alternatively, he didn’t know anything about the pair and simply wanted to solve the case on his own.

  Regardless, now that the reason for Meg’s and Clay’s shiftiness the past few days had become clear, I couldn’t hold onto my anger; it slipped through my fingers like sand. I couldn’t he
lp it. They were adorable. I had half a mind to walk out right now and wish them the best. And ask if I could I pretty-please be the maid of honor at the wedding.

  But I would’ve felt too rude interrupting their sweet moment. Instead, I popped into the back room and said ‘bye to Julio. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence, but I wasn’t bothered. Floating on cloud nine for my friend and my cousin, I waltzed right back out to the bar. Their getting together had been a long time coming and I couldn’t wait to tell them how much I supported their new romance.

  Sitting down, I poured myself a Diet Coke. The tequila was beginning to hit me hard. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem on my birthday, but I did still need to get up in the morning. After all, the sauce was waiting. Even though my crappy day seemed a little less crappy now, the newly minted love in the air wouldn’t be finding any barbecue sauce for me.

  I had barely twenty-four hours to deliver the sauce to Carlos and confirm that Anthony had solved the bomb case. Reflecting back on the bigger picture, I realized it’d be silly to be mad at Anthony. We were on the same team, after all, and if his work on the fireworks-turned-bomb case saved lives, then that’s all that mattered.

  Anthony could take all the credit, and I wouldn’t mind. If he’d just told me.

  Clay and Meg reentered the bar with not-so-subtle stomping noises.

  “Lacey, what are you doing?” Meg asked, casting a nervous glance at Clay. “Thought you were lotioning your head or something.”

  I wanted to tell them I knew what was going on, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d let them come to me as a couple when they were ready.

  “I feel so much better, actually,” I said. “Clay, can I come home with you?” I gave my cheeriest smile, which seemed to have no effect on the two except to confuse them beyond belief.

  “Was it that drink?” Meg asked with heavy skepticism. “I put a little something extra in it.”

  I frowned. “Extra?”

  “Sugar,” Meg said. “Literally. Sugar. Don’t worry. I’ll always tell you when I add crack to things.”

  “How about you never add crack to things,” I suggested.

  “Are you sure about this?” Clay asked. “Because we decided – Meg and I – we have something to tell you.”

  I stood up, waving off Clay’s comment. “I feel bad for my reaction earlier. Long day, I was stressed – it’s none of my business what you have to tell me.”

  “No, I think it is—” Clay said.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” I declared, the smile coming naturally now. “I don’t want to rush anything for you guys. Let’s go home, Clay. Meg, do you still want to go to Stillwater tomorrow? We can make it quick. Just pick up the sauce and head back.”

  “And maybe my helmet,” she said.

  “We’ll see,” I said, not particularly anxious to revisit Grease Ball’s house. But I didn’t want to say no because I did really want Meg’s company for the trip. Even if nobody knew that today was my birthday, it’d be nice to spend it with someone I cared about.

  “Great!” Meg said. “No need to tell her yet then, Clay.” She shot a forceful look in his direction. “She doesn’t seem miserable at all.”

  “I’m way better,” I said. “Trust me. I’ve had a, um, a grand realization.”

  “Excellent,” Meg said. “Sleep tight, chickadee.” She reached forward and pulled me into a huge squeeze that just about shattered six of my ribs. “Happy birthday, honey.”

  When she let me go, the grin on my face was a hundred percent real. “Thank you, Meg. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Sweet dreams,” she said, blowing kisses to both Clay and me as we left the bar side by side.

  I waved at Meg, but I made sure to let Clay catch all her kisses.

  Chapter 10

  A good night’s rest can do a lot for a person.

  I rolled over around ten a.m. the next morning, feeling refreshed, energized, and excited for life. I sang a miniature happy birthday ditty in my head, which wasn’t as fun as it’d initially sounded. I knew for a fact that I sang terribly out loud, but I’d never realized that I sounded off-key even in my own head.

  Foregoing my self-serenading extravaganza, I focused instead on Meg’s birthday wishes murmured in the wee hours of the morning. That alone had been enough of a reminder that people cared about me, and I was being a bit silly with my woe is me thoughts. Sitting up, I gratefully acknowledged that thirty felt pretty good, and that I was lucky to have such a sparkly life overall. It wasn’t always perfect, but it could be really darn great. I had a roof over my head, sugar in my coffees, and a foot of licorice rope that looked like real rope waiting for me in one of Meg’s pockets. I had a loving Family who provided me with a job, and speaking of said job…

  I had stuff to do.

  I’d planned to get up early and hit the road running, but after my late night discovery about the bomb’s non-existent threat, the pressure to move quickly had all but dissolved. Now, my worst case scenario was that I wouldn’t find the sauce. If that happened, Carlos could use a little salt and pepper as seasoning. Or ketchup. It wouldn’t kill anyone.

  Blips of conversation filtered through my almost closed bedroom door. I could make out Meg’s spirited voice followed by Clay’s calmer one.

  I’ll give them a few minutes, I thought as I rolled over and closed my eyes.

  I never expected to fall asleep again, but the next time I looked at the clock it was forty minutes later and time for me to get a move on. Dressing in my most comfortable workout pants and a yoga-inspired, loose charcoal-gray tank top, I looked the part of someone headed to the gym.

  The last place on my birthday I wanted to end up was the gym, but even less desirable than heading to the gym was the thought of cramming my legs into jeans. Especially since the day ahead promised a lot of movement. We had to visit Horatio’s grandmother and deliver the news about Grease Ball. I was still debating whether or not we’d tell her about the odd experience with the log cabin in the backyard. For all intents and purposes, our friend seemed to be a normal suburban guy tucked away in his normal suburban home with a lack of shampoo.

  The fact that he shot guns at intruders didn’t help our case for “normal.” Then again, I lived with a man who’d built a laying desk, I’d kissed a different man who may or may not list assassin on his resume, and my best friend wore an orange mohawk helmet on the regular. Normal was subjective.

  Maybe I’d just leave the part about guns out, because maybe if we hadn’t trespassed, he wouldn’t have shot at us. The story was complicated. We could get the police involved, but there were some explanations I’d be expected to contribute, and I wasn’t exactly ambitious about making them public. Plus, if the guy were really a threat, the police still wouldn’t be my first choice for help. I’d go to Anthony.

  As Anthony’s name crossed my mind, it dawned on me that I’d never truly apologized for my comments about the Family. He hadn’t brought it up last night, but I also shouldn’t have said it. The best plan of action would be to confirm the bomb was taken care of, and then apologize all at once. Once the air was cleared, we could go back to being – well, whatever we were.

  Raising my hands above my head, I stretched out, feeling mighty limber for a thirty-year-old, as I made my way down to the living room. Logically there wasn’t much difference between yesterday and today, but I felt older. Maybe even a little more mature. Or maybe it was all a nonsense mental game and I was no less or more mature, limber, or smart than I’d been twenty-four hours ago.

  “There she is,” Meg said as I popped into the room. “How ya feeling?”

  “Good,” I said. “Not even too hungover.”

  “That’s because I laced the entire drink with ten times more sugar than I usually do. Your blood is a higher percentage sugar than water, which means the drink was basically healthy for you.” Meg smiled up at me from her perch in the laying desk.

  Clay stood protectively next to her like a par
ent guarding his child at the top of the staircase. He snuck a glance my way for a second, then trained his eyes back on Meg and kept his hands at the ready.

  How sweet. He was guarding his new love as she attempted to maneuver the laying desk.

  “This thing is sweet,” Meg said, gesturing towards the contraption. “I need to get myself one for the bar.”

  “You don’t do paperwork,” I told Meg. “Why would you need one?”

  “‘Cause I’m supposed to do paperwork,” she said. “You know, inventory and taxes and all that crap. But it’s much easier to just not do it.”

  “Hmm,” I said.

  “But what I’m saying is that maybe if I had one of these here handy-dandy desks, I’d actually do my paperwork. I wouldn’t even have to move to take my naps.” Meg looked at Clay. “How long would it take you to make me one?”

  “Well, it’d be very expensive,” Clay said. “This is just a prototype…”

  “That’s okay,” Meg said. “You ain’t charging me anyway, right? I’m basically part of the family.”

  Maybe they were engaged! My mind leapt straight to the wedding. Would it be local? One never could tell with this pair.

  “Uh…” Clay said, glancing at me with hesitation.

  “Right,” Meg said. “Help me out of this trap.”

  Clay putzed with a few knobs and levers, pulled hard on a string that caused a metal arm to rise, and eventually with some advanced acrobatics, removed Meg from the seat.

  “You ready to get going, chickadee?” Meg asked. “I gotta be back here by eight p.m. I got a masseuse and nail girl coming. Gotta look fabulous for that barbecue tomorrow.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said with a wink. “Special day, huh?”

  Meg blankly stared at me. With her mouth partially open, she looked to Clay. “How does she know?”

  Clay shook his head. “I didn’t – I don’t…does she know?”

  “Didn’t you just hear her?” Meg asked. “‘Course she knows. Lacey, who spilled the beans?”

  “Nobody,” I said smugly. “I’m just an expert detective. But don’t worry; the secret is safe with me.”