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

by Gina LaManna

  I stood up, sliding my arm around Anthony’s waist. “That is really sweet of you.”

  “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

  I curled into his chest, gripping his shirt with my fingers. My shoulders shook as I buried my head into his shoulder.

  “Are you crying?” Anthony recoiled so fast I skidded down at least three stairs. “Why are you crying?”

  But when I looked up, my eyes were crinkled in laughter. “I’m just imagining you waltzing into Walgreens and asking where to find the deluxe pack of lip gloss.”

  “I didn’t waltz.” Anthony waved his arm back and forth. “I don’t waltz!”

  “I always wondered what you’d be like as a dad.” I pursed my lips and squinted in his direction. “I can see it now: Anthony, the big, bad dad who can’t say no to his girls.”

  “Never again. That’s the last time I buy that crap.”

  “Well, they love it, and so do I.” I nodded at the girls, who’d already decked themselves out like clowns. Glittering clowns. “Come on, Slappy and Happy, we’re bringing you back to your parents.”

  We dropped the girls in the kitchen, bidding everyone a goodbye. It was late, and anyone who I hadn’t seen tonight, I’d catch up with tomorrow. I had a full stomach, a soulmate on my arm, and a sense of satisfaction that came after a hard day’s work. As I looked around the kitchen at my crazy, mixed-up, complicated family, I couldn’t help but think that this was what it’s all about.

  I gave everyone a cheek kiss on the way out, promising I’d see them all soon. The girls and their parents were staying at the estate tonight in order to have a follow-up with the doctor tomorrow, just to be safe. Carlos had retired to his bedroom for some long awaited sleep. Nora would probably still be flipping pancakes come sunrise.

  Anthony waved goodbye, and together we bid Harold goodnight. On the way down the front steps, we ran into one last visitor. My father.

  Anthony gave my hand a squeeze. “I’ll be right over here.”

  After he’d taken a few paces away, I approached my dad. “Hi.”

  “Thank you for what you did in there.” Jackson Cole didn’t waste any time getting down to business. With graying hair, a pleasant face, and eyes like mine, I could see the shared genetics between us. Except for the gray hair.

  I looked at the snowy grounds. “It was nothing. Nothing you wouldn’t have done for me.”

  He nodded, taking his time as he thrust his hands into his pockets and stared up into the clear sky. “I knew he was the one responsible for my partner’s death. I’ve been following The Fish’s trail these past few months, ever since you turned me onto him out in Hollywood.”

  “I told you I would’ve helped look for him.”

  “It was my ax to grind.”

  “But—”

  “I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have dragged you into it. The whole thing was dangerous, and I shouldn’t have done it myself.”

  I stomped my feet against the ground, staving off the cold in my toes. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to ask. Where was The Fish now?

  When I looked up, Jackson was pressing a gun into my hand. “What is this?” I dropped the weapon in the snow. “I don’t want it.”

  “It’s the gun you gave me.” Jackson Cole’s eyes met mine. “The bullet is still in it.”

  “And The Fish…?”

  “He’s locked up. For good. Lacey…” He paused, taking a long beat before speaking again. “Thank you.”

  I reached out and gripped my father’s shoulder. Since no words would be strong enough to say exactly how I felt, I remained silent.

  “When I saw you turn back through that door, I couldn’t do it.” My dad hung his head. “Because I want to be around to answer your phone calls for the rest of my life.”

  CHAPTER 51

  “I like your dad,” Anthony said, as we walked home. “He’s a good man.”

  I nodded. “I think so. Though I was a little worried that neither of you answered when I called on the way to the Stone Arch Bridge. I didn’t know if you’d get my message in time to help.”

  Anthony stiffened.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “Don’t worry, I got your message. Clever, by the way. Very clever, even though I don’t like the idea of you leaving me a few steps behind. You cut this one a little too close for comfort.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Just like you intended,” Anthony said. “I went to your apartment and found your notes after you didn’t answer my call back. By that time, Carlos was already headed to his poker game at Marinellos. He called me before going inside and said something felt wrong, even though he couldn’t say what exactly. The Fish must have assumed that Carlos was too proud to call for backup when really, your grandfather is too smart not to ask for help. Regardless, I put two and two together and came down there just as fast as I could.”

  “What about my dad?”

  If I wasn’t mistaken, Anthony blushed. “I was with him when you called. We were talking, that’s why we missed it. By the time we realized you’d left messages on both machines, it was too late.”

  “You were talking? About what?”

  “I let you and Meg have girl talk. Aren’t I allowed private guy talk?”

  “Intriguing…” I said with a wink, before letting it drop.

  After saying goodbye to my dad, we’d left the estate and began our march home. All was quiet on the grounds. Together we’d climbed into bed, pulling the sheets snug around us.

  “Listen, I know it’s not quite Valentine’s Day, but I do have a little surprise for you,” Anthony said, propping himself up on his elbow. “It’s not fancy…”

  I clapped my hands and gleefully shot back up in bed, even though we were closer to sunrise than sunset by this point. “Can I see my surprise?”

  Anthony winked. “Give me a second to slip into something…a little more comfortable.”

  I squealed with laughter as he leaned forward and kissed me so hard I toppled backwards onto the bed. Before I could get my arms fastened around his neck, he’d vanished into the bathroom. I sighed, staring at the ceiling, my chest finally loosening from all the knots of stress.

  When he emerged a few minute later, I cleared my throat. “What is that?”

  Anthony looked down, the slightest of blushes creeping over his face. “You liked the Santa hat, so I figured I’d continue the trend. Though if you don’t like it…I can take it off.” I sat in stunned silence a moment. I blinked at least three times to make sure it was real. I fought the smile curving up at my lips, but eventually the grin won out. How could it not when Anthony stood before me in a pair of red boxers with hearts dotting the fabric, a tiny cupid in the corner? My gaze trailed up to where he held a bouquet of…I squinted. A bouquet of some sort.

  “I know you like chocolates, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about flowers, so I went with what I hoped would be a safer bet.” Anthony extended the bouquet in his hands. “Happy early Valentine’s Day, Lacey.”

  I swallowed over a small lump in my throat. The bouquet was, in fact, a bouquet. But the pieces weren’t normal flowers, they were suckers. Lollipops made to look like tulips in all shades of pink, red, and purple.

  When I managed to speak, it was as though I had a frog in my throat. “Long-stemmed flowers even,” I said. “You went all out.”

  “I hope it’s okay. If not, I can order something else. The real holiday isn’t until this weekend…”

  I tossed the bouquet onto the pillow. “Come here, Cupid.”

  EPILOGUE

  February 29th, Unicorn Day.

  “How are we out of sugar?” I wiped a hand across my brow, flour spraying everywhere as I looked at my grandmother. “I am never out of sugar. Did someone eat it all?”

  Nora and I stood in the kitchen of my new home, trying to follow a new recipe. After the hot pepper debacle during cooking class, we’d decided to try a slightly tamer recipe for Anthon
y’s birthday. I wanted romance, not death.

  “Maybe you ran out?” She raised her eyebrows. “I brought all the other ingredients.”

  “I didn’t run out.” I bit my lip. “It must be misplaced.”

  “We have more at the estate,” Nora said. “Why don’t I prep the pizza crust while you run up and grab it.”

  I gave a good-natured grumble, though I didn’t have anything to complain about. I’d moved into Anthony’s place on Valentine’s Day, officially. Everything. Underwear, tampons, conditioner, nail clippers – all mine. All here, all in their proper places.

  The past two weeks had been filled with happiness. Sure, we had to learn a few things about each other. Anthony didn’t realize that girls can sometimes act like cute puppies: we shed, we need food, and sometimes we want to be petted and cuddled for no reason at all. At the same time, I had no idea a few weeks ago that Anthony was a shoe Nazi. If the shoe rack wasn’t straightened to perfection, it drove him nuts. It was all new for us, all fun, and all exciting.

  Nora put a hand on her hip, her forehead streaked with flour in patterns that somewhat resembled war-paint. “But this recipe calls for sugar, so will you please run up to the estate and grab some? I’m an old woman.” She pointed to her legs. “And these puppies are tired.”

  “You’re not old; don’t feed me that line.”

  “Carlos is distracting Anthony, so you’ll be safe to sneak in and out of the estate. They won’t see you,” Nora said with a wave of her hand. “I gave my husband one job to do today, and if he fails at it, God help us all. I warned him…”

  I laughed. “Fine, I’ll be back in ten.”

  Nora followed me to the door. As I waved adieu, she blinked. “Have fun!”

  “Have fun?” I turned around, instantly suspicious. “Are you up to something?”

  “No.” But her eyes glittered, and her face beamed.

  I kept all eyes peeled as I hustled towards the estate. We only had two more hours before Carlos would release Anthony from whatever fake duty he’d come up with for the day in order to distract him while Nora and I prepared a surprise, home-cooked dinner.

  I wiped my hands against my over-sized sweater, one which I’d paired with leggings for the time being. I picked up the pace, since I was running out of time to do the whole cooking, shower, and makeup thing before tonight. Plus, I had a gorgeous red dress picked out, and that dress deserved its moment in the spotlight.

  But life had other plans for me, and I didn’t make it to the estate.

  “Lacey, your car is waiting for you.” Harold stood at the front door, blocking my entrance. “Get in, please.”

  “My car?” I shook my head. “Harold, sorry, I’m in a hurry. I’m just grabbing a cup of sugar and I’ve got to get back. Nora and I are cooking for a special occasion.” I gave a clandestine look around the front lawn, and then lowered my voice. “It’s Anthony’s birthday, in case you haven’t heard.”

  Harold cleared his throat. “I’ve been given strict instructions to get you in that vehicle. Under no circumstances am I to let you get away.”

  “That sounds like something a kidnapper would say.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Harold—”

  “Lacey, don’t make me use force.”

  Giving Harold a hard side-eye and disapproving frown, I climbed into the back of the car, which wasn’t so much a car as a limousine. “Promise me I’ll be back within the hour. I have a pie in the oven!”

  The limousine pulled away, the driver rolling up the windows so I only caught part of Harold’s last words. “I make no promises, Lacey. But this is for the…”

  I lost the trail of his sentence as the limo sped towards the exit. “For the what?” I asked, looking forward. I couldn’t see the driver’s face. “And who are you?”

  “Top of the day to you, mate.” The driver turned around with a fake Australian accent, tipping his hat and grinning. “My name is Clayton and I’ll be your driver today.”

  “Feel free to drop the accent anytime, Clay.” I shifted forward a few seats, sidling up to my cousin. “What’s going on?”

  “Excuse me, I have to roll this window up now because I don’t trust myself to keep a secret.”

  “Clay! Clay, don’t you dare.” I tried to hold on as he raised the divider between the back seat and the front, but when he didn’t stop rolling an inch away from the top, I withdrew my hands. I didn’t need fat, swollen fingers complicating things. Instead, I shouted at the glass. “I wish someone would let me in on plans in this family, before it’s too late!”

  Clay rolled the window down an inch. “I can hear you, no need to scream.”

  “What’s going on?”

  He ignored me.

  “Hey, you can’t ignore me!” I knocked on the window. “I have to get back to my house! It’s Anthony’s birthday. It’s not like he gets one every year, you know. It only rolls around every election year. Stop being rude, Clay!”

  For the rest of the ride, my cousin sat back in the seat and cranked up songs by Hanson. At first I thought he was trying to torture me, but after six blocks and eight different renditions of MMMBop, I changed my mind: Meg had rubbed off on him. She’d turned him to the dark side.

  “Clay, if I hear this song one more time, I am going to MMMBop you so hard on the head you’re gonna need that GPS to get home!” I slouched in the seat. I’d been hurling various threats at him for the last twenty minutes as he pointed the limo towards St. Paul, and I didn’t expect this one to be any different than all the rest.

  But I was wrong. The wheels jerked to a stop, and I tumbled from the seat down to the floor.

  “Come on, get up. Get out. Time to move on.” Clay reached to help me out, but when I leaned over to grab his hand, he moved away and I fell head first out of the vehicle. Grumbling, I dragged myself to my feet and dusted off my clothes. Before I could complain some more, Clay hauled me over to a waiting figure. “Bart’s here to help you. There’s been a change of plans.”

  “Who is Bart?” I glanced over Clay’s shoulder and got my own answer. “Bartholomew! What are you doing here?”

  The stylist from Hollywood grinned, his spiky hair now a femme fatale version of Sonic the Hedgehog. He had so much eyeliner on his face he looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks, but what did I know? Maybe that was the trend. After all, he was one of the hottest designers in Los Angeles, as well as the style-assistant to my personal friend and business client, Miss Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third, and her beloved dog Poopsie.

  “Bart, what are you doing here?”

  “Lizabeth came to town for a visit with Harold. I dolled her up for the night, and then I heard a rumor on the street that your sexy-ass man has a birthday today.” He clasped me into a hug, ruffling my hair. I moved to step back, but he held on tight to the end of my locks, tsking as he scanned them over. “These are not even split ends, anymore. The pieces of your hair decided to divorce and move across the country from one another, darlin’. Let’s get you fixed up.”

  “But—” I gave Clay a helpless stare as Bart dragged me inside one of the salons I’d been eying for months, but never stepped foot inside, for fear I’d need a loan to get out of it.

  “Relax, it’s a gift from Lizabeth,” Bart explained, handcuffing me to a chair using two towels as bindings. “She rented out the salon for the day so she and Poopsie could have the ‘full treatment’ before their dinner with Harold tonight. She had a few hours left of the rental and insisted we use it to pamper you for your special night.”

  “But the food,” I whimpered. “I’m supposed to be cooking. That’s the only gift I got him.”

  “Nora’s on it,” Clay said. “She knew about this little detour. In fact, she hid your sugar to give us the opportunity to kidnap you.”

  “Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.” Bart grinned, tugging on my hair. “It’ll be a good one.”

  I closed my eyes, sinking into the warm water as Bart began massaging my scalp
and washing away the flour coating my hair. Maybe being kidnapped had its perks, after all…

  ** **

  When I opened my eyes a few procedures later and peered in the mirror, I had to blink a few times to get my bearings. “Wow,” I said. “Bart…I actually, I actually like this dress.”

  “You look like a sunflower,” Clay said, standing around me.

  I squinted at him. “Is that a compliment?”

  His cheeks turned red. “I think so. I mean, you look sorta skinny. A little bit gangly. Very yellow.”

  “What he means to say, is that you are a ray of sunshine, my darling,” Bart said, swooping in to save the day and keep Clay from shoving his foot so far down his throat it came out the other end. “Your hair…do you see this? It’s shiny. Golden. Did you know you can do this yourself?”

  I made a face at Bart in the mirror.

  He grinned. “Let me explain, so you can replicate. Your dress is fun and flirty, while the shawl gives you an innocent edge – Lord knows you need it, Miss Trouble. The makeup style is called barely there, and it gives you a dewy smile and kissable lips. I dare say your cheeks are downright smooch-able.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Can you write my obituary? Because I think that’s what I want it to say.”

  “Stop that.” Bart smacked my butt. “Now, go take credit for Nora’s cooking, and show your man some romance tonight.”

  My ears glowed a red so vibrant I feared they’d catch on fire.

  “Stop blushing,” Bart said. “You’ll look like ketchup and mustard if your face is the color of a fire hydrant and your dress is that shade of yellow. Stay calm, collected, and pale. The pastel yellow only looks good with the color of foundation I applied, not your actual skin tone.”

  “Silly me,” I muttered. “Here I am, thinking that my very own skin is good enough.”

  Bart clucked his disapproval, but before he could comment, Clay looked at his watch and leapt to attention.

  “Thanks, Bart,” Clay said, hustling towards the door. “Lacey, let’s go. I’ve got to get you moving.”