Lacey Luzzi: Sparkled: A humorous cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 2)

by Gina LaManna

  Clay didn’t exactly have luck with the ladies. Or interest in the ladies. I’d speculated he was gay after he’d flaunted a pair of skinny jeans last Thanksgiving; he and Carlos had exchanged words and then not spoken for three months. In short, Clay’s love life—and tastes—were a mystery. If he could marry a computer, I’m sure he’d have seven wives at minimum.

  Meg harrumphed. “You’re no help.”

  I shrugged and turned my key in the lock. As I pushed the door open, three things happened almost immediately. The first was that Tupac the Cat let out a shrill yowl and leapt from his hiding place above the refrigerator. The second was that the refrigerator door started opening as if a ghost was creeping in for a midnight snack. The third was an annoying, incessant dinging of the microwave timer, as if it was confused about its job and thought it had been turned into an alarm clock.

  “CLAY!” I bellowed.

  He walked into the kitchen and winced after one glance at my furious expression. Then, his face went slack as he noticed Meg standing behind me. Despite the noise and the ghost at the refrigerator, the two seemed frozen in a cheesy romantic comedy moment, locking eyes from across the room.

  “Hi.” Meg lifted one hand in a feeble wave.

  “Hello.” Clay limply raised an arm in an odd semblance of a greeting.

  “Oh, my goodness. Clay, shut those damn things off. And stop setting stupid alarms!” I crossed my arms.

  Snapping out of his reverie, Clay jumped towards the refrigerator. He tinkered with a few knobs that I’d thought controlled the ice dispenser, then moved towards the microwave and adjusted the dials.

  “You’ll thank me one day,” Clay said, turning around and wiping his hands on his pants.

  I grumbled.

  “I think it’s pretty sick.” Meg nodded with an enthusiasm I didn’t understand.

  “Thanks.” Clay blushed and turned his eyes to his old-man slippers.

  I rolled my eyes. “We need some help.”

  “With what?” Meg asked.

  “No, you and I need help. We need information.” I stared at her.

  “Oh, right-o. Info.” Meg nodded and her flyaway hair bobbed like the end of a witch’s broom.

  “What can I help you with?” Clay asked, eyes glued to Meg.

  “Yo, here. Over here.” I waved. “It’s my new case from Carlos.”

  Clay sighed, then moved out into the living room and plunked himself behind one of his numerous computer monitors. “What are we dealing with?”

  I sat on one side of Clay and Meg took the other. The couch was a squeeze for three children. Three fully-grown adults, including two that edged towards the heftier side of the size spectrum, made for a tight fit.

  “We have an extra chair,” I told Meg.

  “I’m good.” Meg wiggled her butt as if to show exactly how comfortable she’d made herself.

  I sucked in air, held it for three seconds, and then on the exhale explained the situation about Leo Campani to Clay.

  “Him?” Clay wrinkled his nose. “He’s a sleazy, little associate and a cheat. There ain’t nobody that can possibly be missing him.”

  “Carlos wants to eliminate the possibility that it was a hit ordered from the Russians. We’re hoping that he was killed for his terrible qualities as a human being and not because he worked for the Luzzi Family.”

  Clay shrugged. “Whatever.”

  A few keystrokes later, we had a glut of freshly printed documents to browse.

  “Leo Campani,” I read. “Age thirty-two. Did time twice for car-jacking and possession. He was a small time player, a regular at Shotz…”

  I looked at Meg, the owner of the seedy bar often frequented by many patrons with a rap sheet longer than the menu.

  Meg shrugged. “I don’t discriminate on race, sex or crimes. Well, sometimes I discriminate on sex, but only if it’s bad.”

  Clay turned as red as a tomato.

  “Don’t worry.” I patted his knee. “Her standards aren’t exactly set high.”

  Meg shrugged again. “I never claimed they were.”

  Clay cleared his throat. “Check this out. He has a certificate to marry people.”

  “He’s a priest?” Meg asked. “That’s unholy to murder a priest. Real bad.”

  “No, not a priest.” Clay glanced closer. “He was just an officiant. I’m guessing it was some sort of side income deal. Probably just for Family members who wanted a quick wedding and disappearance, if you know what I mean.”

  “Nice,” I said. “What a guy.”

  “Well, this should give you some good reading material.” Clay dumped a stack of papers in my lap. “But if I were you, I’d go ask some questions around Payne and Larpenter. That’s his area. If you wanna find out what people thought of him, who he owed and who he hung around with, that’s the place to start. But be careful, they ain’t nice fellas looking to take you out for a beer.”

  Clay pulled up some sort of calendar. “Hey—I found his iPhone schedule, and it looks like he’s got a drop off with a man by the name of Looney in 30 minutes.”

  “That intersection is a graveyard,” I said slowly.

  “Kind of fitting, isn’t it?” Clay gave a wry smile.

  “I hate those graves,” Meg said. She shuddered. “They give me the runs.”

  “Disgusting,” I said.

  “Tell me about it.” She shook her head mournfully. “I definitely shouldn’t have eaten this morning.”

  “You didn’t,” I said. “You drank a pint of whiskey.”

  “To each their own.” Meg pursed her lips. “And you’re wrong. I had donuts and a pint whiskey. Plus the booze puts me at risk for D.A.D.S.”

  “Dads?” Clay wrinkled his nose.

  “Day After Drinking Shits.” Meg smiled proudly. “Came up with that all by myself.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I said.

  “Basically,” she whispered, still eyeing Clay, who looked somewhere between mortified and enthralled.

  “Well, I’m going now. Are you coming?” I asked Meg as I stood up and grabbed my purse.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she sighed. “But I’m gonna do some business here first. And I’m probably gonna do a little more business once we get there, so they better have nice facilities.” Meg huffed down the hallway to the bathroom.

  “Nice girl.” Clay muttered. “They’re not all that honest.”

  “Uh, yeah. For a reason.” I unlocked the door. My cousin and I stared at each other for a few minutes in a very awkward silence. Eventually there was a large groan from down the hall, and I cleared my throat. “Say, have you thought of dating at all? It’s been awhile since your last relationship.”

  “How do you know?” Clay asked.

  “I’m assuming, since I haven’t met any girlfriends since I’ve been living with you.”

  “What if I don’t bring them home with me?”

  I raised my eyebrow. “What do you think about Meg?”

  Clay opened his mouth, just as Meg stomped back from the bathroom. “I lit a few candles, but I wouldn’t suggest going in there for a few hours. Jeesh, those sprinkled donuts, I tell ya. Colorful.”

  “I’ll meet you in the car.” I left as Meg offered a wave to Clay, who flicked his wrist in a weird attempt at a goodbye.

  “Coming,” Meg said. “Don’t you dare leave without me. I ain’t afraid to sit on you.”

  I closed my eyes. I couldn’t imagine anything more unpleasant.

  ** **

  A graveyard sparse in decoration stretched out before us, the sun shining brightly on the crumbling gravestones. A dirt path wound its way through the plots, beginning at a set of intimidating gates out front.

  “So, what do you think this Looney guy looks like?” Meg asked.

  “I dunno, do you think it’s his real name?” I scanned the horizon. Apart from a few stray stands of grass, there wasn’t any life in the whole graveyard. Not even a fresh bouquet of flowers.

  “Uh, hang on. I think we got
him.” Meg nodded towards the gates.

  A figure who appeared to be double my height and half my weight approached slowly. I was worried that if I spoke too loudly, my breath would knock the wisp of a man over.

  He shuffled towards us, slouched over with hands shoved in his pockets.

  “Has he seen us yet?” I asked Meg.

  “Don’t think so,” she murmured back. “He’s staring down at those boat-sized feet he’s got. Hell, I’d be staring at them too. You know what they say about big feet.”

  Meg gave me a serious look, and I shook my head. “Don’t think about it.”

  “I’m only thinking about it. I wasn’t gonna act on it. Well, not unless he initiates it, and then it’s okay.”

  The man looked up as Meg let out a low whistle. His eyes registered wild fear and shock, and he took a few halting steps backwards. His hands flew from his pockets and waved wildly in the breeze like a wind chime.

  We must have spooked him, standing there and watching him, speaking in low voices. I could only imagine how creepy it looked.

  “Hey, are you Looney?” I asked. “Like—your name, I mean?”

  At the mention of the nickname his eyes widened even further. He attempted to turn and run, but his gangly legs got tangled and he took a long tumble to the ground. However, he was up in two seconds flat, his back turned to us, his legs working like a windmill.

  “Get him,” I yelled to Meg.

  She took two steps and then bent over and huffed. “I’ll wait here with the car.”

  I was already off on the chase, but my averaged-sized, under-exercised legs were no match for the toothpicks in front of me working ninety miles an hour. Even despite my recent gym membership. I hollered after him, “I promise you it’s nothing bad.”

  Looney hurtled around Landon Afington’s head stone as I caught up. The name on the next cement pillar read TUTTI, and Looney was ducking behind it as if this dead person’s last remnant on earth could save his life.

  “What do you want, then?” He peered suspiciously around one side.

  “I’m looking for some info on Campani, that’s all. I’m part of the Luzzi family—he works for my grandfather.”

  “You’re Carlos’s granddaughter?” Looney asked.

  “Yeah. So we’re not turning you in to the cops. In fact, we appreciate your business.”

  Looney smiled. “My pleasure. Anyways, what do you want to know?”

  “Leo Campani. When’s the last time you saw him?”

  Looney shifted a bit. “Man, last week. I meet him here once a week for, uh… business stuff. He helps me with my personal feng shui. I saw him a week ago, and we were supposed to meet here today, but he didn’t show up.”

  “Is that like him?”

  “Nah, he ain’t never missed a drop off before. Needs the money, you know?” Looney sniffed and glanced around the graveyard.

  “Oh, I know.” I nodded. “Economy sucks these days.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Looney gave a twitch that resembled a shrug. “But last week he was going on about marrying some people for some extra cash. I thought maybe that wedding was today or something.”

  “On a Tuesday?” I asked.

  Looney shrugged. “You know the drill. Looney’s, uh, professionalism sometimes is a little bit under par. I’d assume anyone asking him to marry them isn’t getting married at the Cathedral, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” Looney’s paranoia was starting to rub off on me, and I glanced around. “Well, thanks for your help. Got anything else for me? Anyone that hated him?”

  Looney looked at me as if I was the crazy one. “Everyone hated Leo.”

  “Dumb question, sorry. Anyone with a particular grudge? Give me something, Looney. I’ll pass along your good wishes to Carlos.” I took a step closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me who to talk to, buddy.”

  Looney looked lost in space for a moment. Then, his eyes brightened. “Yeah, you know. Actually…”

  He trailed off, and I looked behind me to find the distraction that had caused him to stop the most important sentence he’d utter all day.

  Meg lumbered towards us, her eyes wild and her hair looking like it’d been styled by a fork and a toaster. She heaved in deep, shaky breaths. “All those years in cop camp and you’d think they’d train us to be able to keep up with criminals. The state of our force these days.”

  “What the hell? She’s a cop?” Looney gave me a disappointed, almost disgusted shake of his head, before he turned, his twiggy ass sprinting into the woods.

  “Retired cop,” I yelled after him. “Wait! She’s with Carlos!”

  “Fired cop, you mean,” Meg corrected me. She rubbed her ample stomach and plopped down on a headstone.

  “It’s bad luck to sit on a grave, don’t do that.” I crossed my arms, fuming at Meg’s untimely entrance.

  “Relax, it’s the most action Francis Tutti has gotten in a long, long time.” Meg waved a hand at the woods. “We didn’t need his skinny ass anyways.”

  “Yeah, we did.” I sat down next to her, carefully placing my butt between Francis and his beloved wife, Cathy. “He was just about to tell me who to talk to for info about Campani.”

  “No shit? That sucks. It’s a bummer you couldn’t have done a better job getting him to talk before he got spooked and ran off.” Meg massaged her calf and grimaced.

  I opened my mouth to retort, but closed it as she leaned to the side and passed a lot of gas.

  “That’s sick.” I stood up and fanned the air in front of my face. “I’m leaving.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Meg followed me down the rocky path away from poor Francis and his wife, now basking in her unpleasant odor.

  I kicked at the grass, wondering where to go from here. Maybe we could pore over the materials Clay had given us. With any luck, there would be something in there that alluded to his close-knit group of friends—if he had any. I’d compile a list of his mortal enemies, since just about everyone in the Twin Cities would be on a list of Leo’s regular enemies. I’d add the people he played poker with, those he did ‘business’ with and any girls that had been unfortunate enough to date him. Realizing that the best place to start might be right beside me, I turned to Meg.

  “Hey, you said Campani came into the bar a lot. Who did he usually sit with?” I asked.

  Meg bit her lip as she trudged up next to me. “The usual group of guys. Most of them were from your Family, but none of them really liked him. They didn’t seem to hate him either, since he still comes—er, came by. They just sort of tolerated him.”

  “Anybody that especially hated him? Or, God forbid, liked him?” I pressed.

  “Everybody hated him. I think they just liked taking his money,” Meg said in a matter of fact tone. “But you know, last week he got into a shouting match with one of your cousins. What’s his face? He looks like Snooki.”

  “Joey.” My cousin Joe was pumpkin orange and buffer than a freshly cleaned kitchen floor. His eyebrows were perfectly manicured, his body always oily and shiny with some gross crap he slicked on day in and day out. He spent his time pumping iron at the gym and eating meat, and his veins always looked like they were trying to escape the tight constraints of his skin.

  “Yeah, that’s the one.” Meg nodded. “Not my type at all. Not that I’d say no to a romp in the sack with ‘em once or three times. Is he married?”

  “You really don’t want to do that, but no, he’s not married. He was supposed to be married to my cousin Vivian, but she dumped him for some stuffy banker, and I think he’s still sore about it.”

  “Vivian and Joey are your cousins?” Meg asked. “Now I know my moral compass ain’t straight, but that seems a little off even to me. This isn’t West Virginia.”

  “Joey’s not related,” I said. “He’s an associate on the same level as Leo, but he’d been engaged to Vivian for so long that we all started calling him a cousin since they were basically married anyway
s. At least, they fought like they were married.”

  “Ah, so big Joey’s got his little heart broken?” Meg looked as if she was contemplating ways to take advantage of that particular situation.

  “It seems so. He went a little berserk when Vivian dumped him. He said they were soul mates and all that crap. Plus, it would’ve been a step up in the Family for him. He would’ve been promoted to a real Family position instead of an associate, since he’d technically be related after they got married. Joey hates to work, except on his muscles, so he wanted a cushier job.”

  “Makes sense.” Meg crossed her arms. “I want a cushy job, too.”

  “You have one. You own your own bar and drink whiskey for breakfast.”

  “It ain’t easy entertaining all my honeys.” She pouted.

  “All right, well let’s get out of here. I guess we’ll go talk to Joey. See what their argument was about.” I fished my keys from my purse and unlocked the door. “Though Joey’s much too lazy to kill anyone. Well, unless they were using his bench press machine. Then, maybe.”

  I walked around the car to unlock Meg’s door, since the Lumina hadn’t come with a working keyless system. That was still a bit out of my price range.

  “It’s fine. It’s open.” Meg plopped herself into the front seat.

  “Huh, that’s weird. I thought I locked it.” I heaved myself in next to her.

  “Guess you were distracted by Mr. Crazy.”

  “Looney,” I corrected.

  I put the key in the ignition and cranked the car, but it didn’t start. I sighed and rested my head against the steering wheel.

  “I know who you’re looking for.” The voice coming from the backseat was high pitched and squeaky, overexcited and utterly creepy.

  I whipped around, clonking my head against Meg’s elbow as she shifted to get a peek at our stowaway.

  “Whoa, it’s okay. What do you want?” I raised my hand at the sight of a black gun wedged between the seats and pointed straight at my face. “You can have it.”

  The man behind us was small and almost feminine in size. The black mask, however, was a bit intimidating.

  “That’s right,” Meg chirped. “You want this sex-on-legs girl sitting next to me? Take her. I promise, I ain’t never seen you.”