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

by Gina LaManna

  “All right, fine,” I said. “By the way, whose ass did I cover with the dollar? I’m gonna give them a hard time at the wedding.”

  “Sorry, confidentiality issues,” he sniffed. “I don’t know how you’d use that information.”

  “What? I just told you how I’m gonna use it.”

  “Can’t do it,” he said. He rolled his eyes with a majestic motion. “All I can say is that it’s someone who thinks weeding and wedding are spelled the same way.”

  “All right then, thanks so much for your help,” I said. I patted the counter, took my sheet of paper and folded it in half.

  I proceeded outside to invoke phase two of the plan.

  As I pushed through the glass doors to the courtyard out front, I had the fleeting thought that I should wait for Anthony and his expertise before confronting the killer. As usual, I didn’t listen to my conscience. After all, the kid was a wily one, and I couldn’t let him get away again. Plus, I wanted to redeem my embarrassment at least a little bit.

  I slunk around the corner, the screams of the children growing louder with every step. I spotted Alfonso looking very emo on his picnic table off in the corner all by himself. If possible, he’d retreated even further into his sweatshirt.

  I looked for a child to kick off phase one of my plan. There was a large, rather chunky kid sitting against the wall, not playing any games. He was digging for the last morsel in a bag of Cheetos that looked like it’d been empty for a while. I took stock of his cheesy fingers, which oddly matched Joey’s skin color. I knew instantly he was the one.

  I did a low whistle until he glanced up, crumpling the bag in his chubby fingers.

  “What you want?” he asked gruffly.

  Eeeek—he was not a happy camper.

  “Yo, buddy. I’ll give you five bucks if you deliver a message for me.” I nodded at the crumpled bag in his hand. “You could buy a family size bag of Cheetos from the front desk and a pack of skittles.”

  The kid scrunched up his face, his chubby cheeks nearly overtaking his eyeballs in the expression.

  “What sort of a message?” he asked.

  “It’s a game I’m playing with a friend. It’s this piece of paper.” I waved the folded printer paper like he was a puppy and I was offering a tantalizing treat. “Family size bag of Doritos.”

  “You said Cheetos. They got Cheetos?” he asked.

  “You bet.”

  “And where do I gotta get that message?”

  “That picnic table.” I nodded at the bench where Alfonso was trying to murder a poor, unsuspecting piece of grass with a thunderous gaze.

  “What’s your name?” The kid crossed his arms.

  I crossed mine back. “Uh, uh. This is a top secret operation. It’s better if we don’t do names.”

  He looked me up and down seriously. “Hmnph.”

  “So?” I asked. “Otherwise, I can just ask one of your friends here.” I craned my head as if searching for another candidate.

  “I’ll do it.” He stomped over. “Who do I say it’s from?”

  “It’s all in the note.” I handed over the fiver. “And I was never here.”

  I stealthily stepped back into the building where I could watch my chubby protégé stomp across the lawn, slap the paper on the picnic table and then flip Alfonso off when the angsty killer shouted after the kid.

  “Nice,” I mumbled under my breath. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  My new friend continued his stomping trail inside and straight to the concession stand where he began to barter with the nickel-and-dimer printer Nazi. I almost wished I could be around to see this epic battle. I imagined my two new friends would be haggling for a while.

  But alas, my plan to catch a killer wouldn’t be waiting around for anyone. I hurried into the pool area where the next step of my plan would play out. I slipped into my sports bra and spandex booty shorts and wrapped a white towel around my body, tightly securing all of the lady bits, even though I’d left my bottom layer on.

  I grabbed an extra towel for padding and glanced around the room, trying not to look suspicious. However, I was the only one around, as it was way too early in the morning for anybody on a holiday to want to wake up. I didn’t blame them; the last thing I’d want to do on a vacation was jump in an unheated pool at eight in the morning.

  Instead, I bee-lined for the sauna and set up shop. I’d be waiting here for a bit, so I wanted to get comfortable. My seat consisted of the warm, wooden bench and a fluffed up towel. But the fluffed up towel was working double duty. Not only did it hide the waist cinch I’d removed from my bathrobe, but it was also placed strategically over my cell phone, so an unsuspecting guest wouldn’t notice either of the lumps under my towel.

  And then I sat down to wait.

  After a few minutes, I realized something was missing. The sweet smell of damp wood and rising steam wasn’t wafting over my body and singeing the tiny hairs in my nostrils. In fact, there was no warmth in the cozy little room at all. I popped outside the sauna and checked the thermostat. Duh. The sauna wasn’t on.

  I leaned over, careful not to expose any extra skin, and cranked the dial up a few notches. Unfortunately, the dial was oddly placed on the outside of the sauna, so I had to shuffle around the glass door in order to make sure I’d gotten the temperature just about perfect.

  Sitting back down, I impatiently tossed some water onto the rocks. Of course there was a sign that said DO NOT THROW WATER ON ROCKS, but I considered that more of a guideline than a firm, hard rule. Plus, nobody was looking, and it was a little nippy in the morning air with only a bra, shorts and towel to cover up my skin. And I didn’t want to poke my culprit’s eye out with my girls, if you know what I mean.

  I sat back to wait some more.

  Three minutes passed, and by this time I was cooking nicely. The temperature was pushing a hundred, and I had a nice layer of sweat sheen on my skin.

  I was just about to open the glass door to turn down the temp a bit when a skinny white arm reached for the knob.

  As stealthily as possible, I crept back and slid towards the side of the sauna, so he couldn’t see me in the dim light. At least not until he’d fully entered the room.

  My heart pounded and my temperature rose even higher than I thought possible as the kid gazed around uneasily, but luckily for me, he started his sweep of the room on the opposite wall. By the time his eyes reached me, he’d stepped inside of the room and let the door close quietly.

  He jumped when I spoke. “Hello, again.”

  “You?” Alfonso leapt to the other side of the sauna.

  I reached my hand to the outside of the door where there was a lock. I flipped it to horizontal and then slammed the door shut, locking us both inside with no way out. Yes, it was a personal sacrifice to lock myself into a steaming room with a teenager, but I wasn’t totally an idiot. I’d brought my phone in here for a reason.

  I gave a smile that I imagine could’ve been described as slightly evil. Alfonso shrunk against the corner, his lanky frame nearly translucent in the dim light. As per the instructions on my handy dandy note delivered by Cheetos-man, he’d worn nothing except a towel around his waist—well, I suspected there was nothing underneath, as that had been the instructions.

  He was so thin I could see his ribs as clearly as if they were a xylophone, and I noticed that the freckles didn’t stop on his face. He had a single chest hair that was a reddish orange and weirdly curly. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and his eyes flashed pale blue in a partially confused, partially terrified expression.

  “Relax,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Why’d you lock us in here? And why’d you tell me to come here naked? You lied!”

  “Of course I did. You lied when you said you’d wait patiently in my bathroom—”

  “I never said that—”

  “Of no matter. I asked you to undress, except for the towel, because that’s proper attire for a sauna, first of all. And mor
e importantly, I thought to myself, Alfonso won’t enjoy running through his second cousin’s wedding—where all of the Family is, including Carlos—with his ding dong dangling around.”

  At his sullen expression, I guessed I was correct in my thinking.

  “Also, I invited you here for a second reason. Now that are both locked in this tiny room, we can have a nice, honest, heart to heart chat. I have a way to get us out when it’s time, but until then, you’re stuck with me.”

  “You’re crazy, you perv.”

  “I’ve heard the first before, but never the latter. Anyways, I have no interest in your body. Also I’m your cousin somehow, and that’s disgusting, so you’re wrong. Now, tell me… Where is Kiki?”

  His mouth screwed up in a contorted grimace. He opened it to speak, but I shushed him with a finger.

  “Just kidding,” I interrupted. “First, how did you get out of my apartment?”

  “The front door.”

  “Damn. He was right. What about Tupac?”

  “He’s dead, man. Where’ve you been?”

  “What?” I gasped and clutched my chest. “You killed Tupac?”

  “What the hell are you talking about, lady?”

  “The… the cat! How did he die? Did you bury him?”

  “Oh, that Tupac. Nah, he’s fine. He’s in the hotel room.” Alfonso shrugged. “He’s cute.”

  “He’s also mine.”

  “He likes me better.”

  I opened my mouth, but realized I had more important battles to fight right now. Also, he was probably right, based on historical data. “Tell me about Kiki.”

  “I don’t know a Kiki, but she sounds hot. Wanna introduce me?”

  “None of this smart talk,” I said. “Or you’ll roast in here like a chicken. That’s a bad answer, try again.”

  We were both really sweating by now, and it was becoming harder to breathe. I felt a burst of satisfaction as he gave a wary glance at the locked door.

  “It’s really locked.” I jiggled the handle to prove my point. “I have a way out. You don’t.”

  “I’m telling the truth. I don’t know anything.”

  “Strike two.” I glanced threateningly at the glowing orange coals. I’d never be able to hurt anyone, especially a kid, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

  “You wouldn’t do that,” he said.

  “Oh yeah?” I tried to look tough. “I won’t if you tell me about Kiki.”

  “Look, I can’t breathe very good.” He leaned over and clutched at his chest.

  “Well,” I corrected. “Can’t breathe well.”

  Indeed, the air was heavy and smoggy and it felt like I was sucking up piles of water through my nostrils. I was thinking that it’d been a bad idea to crank up the heat so high and toss water on the coals.

  “You better talk fast.” I took a seat on my towel, fingering my phone in its hiding place.

  Alfonso took a deep, shaky gulp of humid air. “Look, lady—”

  “Don’t call me lady, I’m not that old.”

  “Sorry. I came here, Miss, because I lied. I came here to tell you the truth. I didn’t kill Leo.”

  “What?” I spun around. “Say that again.”

  “I didn’t kill Leo. Somebody else did it, and I heard about it first ‘cause he’s my uncle.”

  “How’d you hear about it?” I asked suspiciously. “Were you there?”

  “No. In fact, nobody from our family has even seen the body. Some friend of his called the house and said that they’d found Leo’s body and identified it then and there. My family wanted to do the viewing this weekend, but this wedding was already planned, so they just put him on ice for a few days. We’ll have the funeral and memorial when we get back next week.”

  I sat down and massaged my temples. “So you haven’t even seen Leo dead? Why did you think you could get away with this?”

  Alfonso looked truly pained. “It’s just that my parents, my uncles, none of them ever made it anywhere in the Mafia. They were all nobodies. I wanted to be somebody. I thought maybe if I could show I was tough that Carlos would pay attention to me. Put me in the Administration, you know?”

  “At fifteen?” I was flabbergasted. “Do you realize that I’m his granddaughter, twenty-eight, and have only been in the back room of the laundromat once? Last week, when I saw you—that was the first time. It takes decades to get close to Carlos, buddy.”

  “Maybe he would’ve fast tracked me.”

  I shook my head in amazement at this kid’s glorified view of Family life. “Not a chance.”

  We sat in solemn silence for a few minutes.

  “So you won’t put in a good word for me?” he asked.

  “NO! Why do you want to be in the Mob so much, anyway?”

  Alfonso kicked his feet against the damp wood of the bottom bench. He took a seat on the top bench and slouched against the back wall, his skin dripping sweat.

  I wiped my forehead. “Huh? Spill. We’re not going anywhere, yet.”

  “You’re brutal.”

  “Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. Why do you want to be a part of this?” I gestured around the room, including myself in that gesture. “To be honest, sometimes I myself wonder why I got involved in this. It wasn’t my first choice, you know.”

  Alfonso caught my eye, and the melancholy attitude of the room was palpable.

  “It’s the other kids,” he said finally. “At school, sports—everything. Nobody believes I’m Italian, even though my name is Alfonso. They say my parents ordered me on Amazon from Ireland, two day shipping with Prime.”

  I snorted, but caught myself at his devastated look.

  “I just thought that if I could fit in somewhere, especially with the Mob, maybe people wouldn’t make as much fun of me. Maybe they’d be scared of me.”

  “It’s not really fun to have people scared of you, though. You just need a few good friends.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know how to find them.”

  “I can’t tell you that. I have two close friends. I’m related to one of them, and the other one just…well I guess we just grew up next to each other for so long that we’re part of each other now.”

  I hunched my shoulders. “You’re still young, kid. I’m not that young anymore. I got bills to pay, shit to take care of. You know, responsibilities. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and if I’m honest, the only reason I got into this job was for the money. I love my family and The Family, but I don’t want to work for them. It’s not really me.”

  “But you’re good at it.” Alfonso looked up and caught my eye.

  “Nah, I’m really not,” I said. “I let you escape and you’re fifteen.”

  “I’m smarter than I look,” he said.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I gave a wry smile, and he returned it. “I’m just saying, don’t short change yourself. Go to college and drink too much beer, put on the freshmen fifteen—or fifty-five, in your case—meet some girls, hang with some cool dudes. Join a club or something. Figure out what you like to do. ‘Cause the Family will be here when you’re done in four years, I guarantee that. And you won’t get another chance for the college experience.” I tried to give him my most understanding look.

  “I just wish I could skip past high school. Kids are so stupid and mean and immature. I wish I could just be a grown-up already.”

  “Let me tell ya something, kid.” I leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. “Grown-ups are still stupid and mean and immature. High school sucks ass, but believe me, your problems are not all solved by graduation. You just open a world of new ones.”

  Alfonso looked like he didn’t believe me.

  “You need proof?” I asked. “Look around at this wedding we’re stuck at. In a room of adults, how many of them act like adults?”

  A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth.

  “Come on, I know you’re smart. Help me out.” I prodded him.

  “About one percent, if that,” he sai
d.

  “Exactly. So don’t rush into that mess. You can get away with stupidity for a bit when you’re young, but the consequences get worse as you get older. And so do the hangovers.”

  Alfonso’s legs were swinging now, and I was relieved to see a little color back in his pale frame.

  “You’re not so bad,” he said.

  “You neither.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “This here—this mess? This is one of those times you’re lucky that you’re young and stupid. Don’t pull this shit again. Pull normal crap like breaking curfew and sneaking your parent’s booze, okay?”

  “I’m going to tell them I have your permission.”

  “Don’t you start with me, Mister.”

  A satisfied silence passed between us, and I felt like we’d accomplished something mutually. Then, my stomach sank. If Alfonso didn’t do it, then who did? I was back to square one. My insides felt a bit wobbly as I realized I’d have to tell Anthony that we were all wrong. That his men were chasing the wrong guy while the real murderer was on the loose—out there, somewhere. Maybe even up here, dressed in a suit and tie and ready for the wedding.

  “So, who’s Kiki?” he asked.

  “A bridesmaid that disappeared.”

  He sucked in his breath. “Ouch.”

  “Really, it’s no loss. Plus, I don’t think she’s dead. I think they’re holding her somewhere. The only unfortunate part is that the ceremony is delayed ‘til we find her.” I flipped my finger at him. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Course not.” He raised his hands in submission. “So can we get out of here now?”

  I pulled my phone from under the blanket and tapped it. “Of course.”

  But then I looked down and realized the phone was damp with sweat, the screen was dark and it wouldn’t power on. “Uh oh.”

  “What?” he asked worriedly. “Are we stuck here forever?”

  “Well, until someone comes, which could be a few seconds… or hours.”

  “NO!” He leapt up and started pounding on the glass, screaming.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “You’re giving me a headache.”

  He took a seat. “But we can’t be stuck here. I need to eat every three hours or my blood sugar gets low. HELP!”