Lacey Luzzi: Spiced: a humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 8)

by Gina LaManna

  “Where did you go?”

  “I stayed here for the first few nights, up in the cave.” Anthony nodded to the place we’d recently been cuddled for warmth. “It was summer and the weather was warm. I had money and food, so I could’ve stayed here for months.”

  I rested my hands on his chest. “With the money, where did you want to go?”

  Anthony raised one shoulder, then dropped it. “I don’t know. I just wanted to get away. To disappear. I didn’t like having people depend on me, trust me with their money and secrets. I’m better off as a loner, not as part of a huge family. So I took the money, and I ran.”

  “Anthony…” I didn’t have words to console him. What could I say? Instead, I wrapped him in a hug, and let my head rest on his chest.

  His hands started running lines through my snow-caked hair. “I took advantage of your grandfather’s trust and your grandmother’s hospitality.”

  I hesitated for a moment. “What happened then? Something, I’m assuming, since you’re still here today.”

  “Carlos found me,” Anthony said. “I’m convinced he knew I lied about the money right away. Maybe he wanted me to think about it for a few days, or to wait and see if I’d come back on my own.”

  “He came here? To the caves?”

  “Showed up one night just as I was building my fire for the evening. He walked right up and didn’t say anything.” I could feel Anthony’s head twisting to look towards the sky as he remembered that night so many years ago. “I was sure he’d come here to punish me, at best. Kill me, at worst. Nobody would’ve noticed if he’d done it, either. Nobody would have known. He could’ve gotten rid of me however he wanted, and nobody would have cared.”

  “But he didn’t.” I ignored the lump in my throat.

  “No. Instead, he sat down next to me at the fire for a long, long time. A very long time.” Anthony’s voice trailed off with the hint of an old memory. “Most of the night, probably. Until the fire burned down to coals. “He just sat there, silent.”

  “He didn’t talk?”

  “He didn’t say a word. Not until the sun rose.” Anthony paused. “And then he just looked at me across the spiral of smoke. I’ll never forget that look. It was as if he knew why I did it, like he understood what I was going through more than anyone in the world. It was the one and only time I’ve seen your grandfather look like that, Lacey. And then he said…‘Are you ready to go, son?’” Anthony swallowed, his chest rising and falling. “Carlos stood up, walked away from the fire, and stopped at the entrance. He waited for me, and when I didn’t move, he said two words: ‘Come home.’ Just as normal as if he were taking my sandwich order.”

  “And you went?”

  “I went with him,” Anthony said. “And I’ve never broken his trust again. And I never will.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Anthony and I didn’t speak for a while. However, the story explained so much about the relationship between my boyfriend and my grandfather. Carlos didn’t trust a pet rock to keep his secrets, but for some reason, I’d always known he trusted Anthony. Now, I knew why.

  We strolled hand in hand to the car, the night air still around us, as if each and every particle understood that something had happened here tonight. Anthony had started opening up about his past. It would take time for me to understand him, if that was even a possibility. He was like one of those gigantic jawbreakers – the ones you had to take your time to eat, savor each layer, and accept whatever came next. Because the only other option was to throw it against the ground and shatter it into pieces for a look at the inside. I might shatter a jawbreaker, but I’d never push Anthony to break.

  “This wasn’t a typical date,” Anthony said, as we stopped before the Audi. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

  “Well, you’re not a typical guy, and that’s my favorite part about you.”

  Anthony opened the car door, lending a helping hand as I slid my puffy, winter-geared self into the seat.

  The snow from my angel-making adventures was beginning to melt, and I gave a guilty glance at the seat. “I’m melting on your interior.”

  Anthony shut my door, popped the trunk, then slid into the driver’s side a second later and handed over a towel. “I keep it for snow emergencies.”

  “Bet you didn’t expect to use it for snow ‘angel’ emergencies.”

  “That, I did not.” Anthony started the car. We drove out of the parking lot, his lips pursed in thought. “You still like me?”

  “I think you’re okay.” I waited a beat for the joke to seep in, then resumed in a softer voice. “Of course I like you. I told you nothing would change, and it hasn’t.”

  “It’s that simple?”

  “I’m just curious, Anthony. That’s why I ask these things. I’m just trying to understand what makes you tick. To figure out what sort of experiences made you into the man I might consider marrying someday.”

  Anthony’s ears tinged red as he reached a hand forward, fiddling with the dials on the dashboard, first cranking the music so loud my eardrums nearly shattered, then blasting the heat so strong my hair insta-blow-dried.

  “Relax, they’re your words, not mine.” I leaned forward and twisted the dials so that the music was a light tinkling in the background, and the heat came out at a steady, non-tornado-inducing rate. “Ok, I do have one last question.”

  “About…?”

  “Not marriage, relax. About Carlos,” I said. “About what you told me.”

  “Alright.”

  “Why?” I looked at him. “Why didn’t you vanish? You could have disappeared with the money, I’m sure of it. Even if Carlos showed up here, you could’ve gotten away.”

  Anthony flicked his blinker on, taking us back onto the highway that’d lead us to the St. Paul suburbs. “Trust is…trust is hard for me. It’s not an easy thing for anyone. Especially when it’s been broken so many times that your belief in it hardly exists at all.”

  “I imagine,” I murmured.

  “Each interaction of our daily lives can foster or break down trust,” Anthony said. “It’s like a piggy bank. And when I came to America, my piggy bank was empty. I hardly trusted myself. But over time, Nora and Carlos fed that bank. A quarter here, a nickel there…every time they showed faith in me, I got another few cents in the jar. Eventually, they filled my bank so full I remembered how to trust.”

  I pulled the mittens from my hand, mostly to occupy my limbs. I stuck my fingers in front of the vents, warming them as Anthony took a few deep breaths.

  “This was never about the money,” Anthony said. “But when I lied to your grandfather, I broke his trust. I didn’t empty his piggy bank, I shattered it. I broke it into pieces so little that I never thought Carlos would be able to glue them back together.”

  “But he did.”

  “I don’t think so,” Anthony said, giving a slight shake to his head. “I think Carlos’s jar was sturdier than I gave it credit for; a few nickels bounced out when I pulled that stunt, but it wasn’t broken. I got another chance when I didn’t think I deserved one, and that…that, Lacey, is why I work my ass off not to disappoint your grandfather.”

  “Wow.” I ran my tongue over my teeth, searching for a response as I looked out the window. “I didn’t know.”

  “You weren’t supposed to; it was between us.” Anthony smiled then, glancing over at me. “But now that we’re sharing a life, it was time you understood.”

  “Thank you for telling me,” I said. “And for what it’s worth, I have a really cute piggy bank with your name taped on it.”

  “Then you can buy me dinner on the way home?”

  I laughed, opening my mouth to argue when the ring of my phone interrupted. I glanced down, the name freezing any laughter on my lips. “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

  Anthony gave a curt nod, turning his attention towards the road.

  “Dad?” I answered. “Is everything okay?”

  The sigh on the other end o
f the line was audible.

  “That’s not a good sign,” I said, my heart speeding up. “Do you have news?”

  “Unfortunately not,” he said. “That is the news. No news. The police are treating this as a kidnapping, they’ve put out an Amber alert. They’re doing the best they can, and that’s the good news.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I’m afraid not much,” he said, random chatter in the background from his side of the phone line. “Unless you have any updates from Nicky? Things he might have remembered?”

  I shook my head. “No, not that I’ve heard. He’s at the estate now, but I told them to call me with any news. I haven’t heard a thing.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Lacey. I’m sorry.”

  I held in my own sigh. “I suppose all we can do is keep looking and say some prayers.”

  “The police are on it. The best ones, I made sure of it,” Jackson said. “Go home and get some sleep. They have night crews working now. You’ll be useless tomorrow if you don’t sleep at all, okay?”

  “Thank you again. You went out on a limb for us, and I appreciate it.”

  “It’s the least I can do. Speaking of, I’m flying back now. I’ve gotta go. I’m going to help from the office tomorrow.”

  “Wow…Dad, thank you. I don’t want to interrupt whatever you’re working on, but I won’t turn down your help.”

  “Just remember one thing,” he said, and I now recognized the sounds in the background as a boarding call. “There’s a chance the girls really did run away. They could be camped out safe and sound somewhere.”

  “I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”

  “Get sleep, Lacey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Anthony looked over as my shoulders slumped, and I hung up the phone. “No news?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Except the police are on it.”

  Anthony reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “Let’s go sleep. Tomorrow you can start again. There’s nothing we can do right now. It’s been a long day.”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “Your dad?”

  I nodded.

  “Smart man.” Anthony smiled. “I never thought I’d say this, but the cops are capable of holding down the fort for the night. Let’s regroup in the morning.”

  “I suppose.” I looked out the window. “I just wish there was something else I could do.”

  “Let it simmer,” Anthony said. “I have guys looking into it, I’m sure Carlos has been grilling Nicky, and don’t forget about the police. There are a lot of people helping; it’s not just your responsibility.”

  “I suppose.” I bit my lip and let the news simmer as Anthony drove us home. By the time we pulled into the driveway of the estate, I had simmered an idea right from the depths of my mind. “Anthony, I have an idea!”

  “What?”

  The guards waved us through, but I was too busy pulling my phone out. “I have one more call to make…”

  CHAPTER 28

  “I can’t believe it,” I said as I climbed into bed next to Anthony. I’d made my phone call, showered, had a bowl of Lucky Charms, and finally felt warm and clean again. “I thought for sure that would be our ticket.”

  “It was a long shot, but a good idea,” Anthony, who was never not warm and clean, slid in next to me. The weight of his body dented the bed, creating a little valley with him in the middle. I rolled right on down into Valley Anthony, sinking into the crook just under his shoulder. “Not every good idea you have will work, and this was one of those times.”

  As we’d pulled into the Luzzi estate, one of those ideas from the back of my brain had simmered up, just like Anthony had predicted. Something about Bessie and the text from her phone bothered me.

  How could there be a text on Marissa or Clarissa’s phone from Bessie’s number, if she hadn’t sent it?

  Something Mrs. Pointy had said had wiggled loose, and sizzled to the surface. The nurse; maybe the nurse had known something. Heck, maybe the nurse knew Bessie had her phone under her pillow. She could have borrowed it, sent a text, and slipped it back under the pillow, all without her patient knowing.

  Which was where the phone call had come into play. I had called Mrs. Pointy, armed with effusive apologies due to the late hour, and told her my theory. She hadn’t been happy, but after a certain amount of begging and promising not to bother her anymore, she’d answered my questions about the nurse’s history with their family. The only problem? She didn’t have any helpful information.

  As it turns out, the nurse was a long-time family friend who’d tended Bessie since her infant years. She strongly argued that the nurse could be completely trusted. I tended to agree, after hearing Mrs. Pointy out. Without motivation, it didn’t make sense.

  I sighed into Anthony’s chest. “I really wanted that to be the ticket.”

  “Call the nurse tomorrow and see what she has to say.”

  “I will,” I said. “But my gut tells me it’s not this lady. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Keep trying. One of your ideas will work, I promise you. You called Clay at home and got him up to speed. Who knows? Maybe someone texted the girls from a computer and routed through Bessie’s number to mask their identity. Clay could have a lead in the morning.”

  Closing my eyes, I gave up on the conversation for now. It’d been a long day, and I was tired. I reached over and lifted Anthony’s arm from the bed, then I plopped his hand on my arm and moved his fingers up and down so they lightly tickled my skin.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Feel free to, you know, tickle me if you want. It’s relaxing. Especially that little circle thing.”

  Anthony began to move his fingers of his own accord, up and down over my arm, ending in little circles above my thumb.

  “Do you think they’re safe?” I asked.

  “The girls?”

  “Yeah.”

  He paused. “What does your gut tell you?”

  I waited for a moment. When Anthony shifted to look at me, I frowned deeper. “Hold on a second. I’m deciding.”

  “Gut instinct means you don’t have to think so much.”

  “I think…” Before I could speak, my stomach gurgled a little bit from all of the shifting and sliding into position I’d done to get comfortable.

  Anthony laughed. “Your stomach agrees with me. Listen to it.”

  “I think they’re okay,” I said, my eyelids drooping. The extended exposure to the cold, bitter winds and the exhaustion of the long day crashed over my body, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open. “They have to be, right?”

  “Listen to your instincts.”

  “My instincts are gurgling. They’re hard to decipher.”

  “The way I look at it, there are too many people on the case to not find something.”

  We lapsed into silence, the air in the room denser than usual. It wasn’t until the clock had ticked a few minutes ahead, the red numbers reflecting off Anthony’s black eyes, that he twisted onto his side, pulled me in tight to his body, and wrapped those big, comforting arms around me. Only then did my lungs start to work properly again. Soon after, I found my eyes closing, and the dreams taking hold.

  CHAPTER 29

  Anthony and I woke early the next morning. After some morning cuddles, he showered and headed to the estate for some “business,” while I hopped in my car and drove over to my former apartment.

  I pulled up outside, groaning at Clay’s creep van. As always, it took up the only good parking space. Clay himself had even spray-painted the curb a foresty-green to keep the other locals from parking in front of our complex. Luckily, there was a spot behind the creeper van, a spot almost large enough for my boat of a car.

  I eased into the space with painstaking precision, going forward and reverse about a hundred times. Eventually, the homeless guy across the street must have felt bad for me because he started directing me back and forth, back and forth, until I wiggled mostly into the par
king spot. I certainly wouldn’t miss doing this little routine every time I came home. Anthony’s house had enough space for ten firetrucks to park without a problem.

  Just when I was about to call the parking job good, I realized that it wasn’t going to work. I was two inches short of a full spot. If only Clay had moved the van up a bit…

  Glancing up and down the street, it didn’t take long to see that there wasn’t a shred of curb space available anywhere. Not a centimeter. Even the illegal space in front of the fire hydrant was taken. Taking stock of my options, I came up without a whole lot of good ones. So I went ahead and picked one that wasn’t the very worst. Muttering a prayer for forgiveness, I applied a little gas, nudging Clay’s van forward just the tiniest amount. Really, it was just a love tap. Clay’s van could use some lovin’ after all.

  I eased forward a little more. The van rocked slightly, but it didn’t move. I gave a little more gas. Another rock forward, but no solid movement.

  “Hmmm.” I paused, wondering if just one more tiny amount of gas would really hurt anything. I mean, Clay’s van was basically a survival vehicle for the apocalypse. Inside, the driver could do everything from make toast to hack into NASA’s databases. Monitors lined the walls and features of the highest caliber could be found behind every knob, dial, and button. Surely the outside was armored, right? There was no chance my lil’ old Lumina could make a dent.

  However, as I gave a little umph behind the gas, the front door to my apartment complex opened, and a figure appeared standing over that four-letter word that was so close to duck in the scheme of the alphabet.

  My mouth fell open, and I might have gasped. It was Meg, sneaking out of the building. Her back was turned to me as she quietly closed the door, clearly wearing the same clothes she’d been wearing last night, save for an over-sized sweatshirt belonging to Clay tossed over the top.