Rags to Witches

by Colleen Cross

  I didn’t buy Rocco’s reasoning. Any self-respecting Mafioso would keep his mouth shut. If a mob hit wasn’t reason enough for omerta, a code of silence, I didn’t know what was.

  Anger welled inside me. “How could you let us stay in the suite without telling us?”

  “Pearl knew the plan already, and Crisco’s not that big of a deal. You guys will keep tabs on him while I focus on Manny.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Christophe may already have a head start on us.” I flashed back to Christophe’s potent wine, an excellent method to neutralize a witch or three. How had he even gained access to the suite in the first place? How long ago? Maybe Christophe had killed Carla.

  Christophe might have us in his gunsights, but we could corner him too.

  “Just be careful,” Rocco said. “But I really need all the help I can get. Manny’s plan is pretty clear. First Grandma, then Bones Battilana. That means that I’m next on his hit list. Once he gets rid of us, all Las Vegas is his for the taking.”

  It was a little convoluted, but Rocco seemed to know what he was talking about.

  I refocused on Christophe, but he was no longer smiling at me. His smile had morphed into a frown directed at Rocco. Christophe tilted his head and spoke to Manny, who also returned the stare. Manny nudged a burly man who had joined them. The man made a cutting motion across his throat.

  The three men laughed.

  I got the feeling I wouldn’t be enjoying any of Christophe’s killer cocktails for a very long time.

  Chapter 22

  I exited the elevator behind Mom and Aunt Pearl. As I stepped into the marble foyer, I paused. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. Instead, I was confronted by the Capone-era couple in the oil painting. They seemed to stare straight at me. Now I realized that they were probably either Carla’s or Tommy’s parents. The woman’s intense blue eyes were just like Rocco’s and the man looked like Rocco’s twin, dressed in 1930s era clothing.

  Our suite seemed more like a prison than a refuge, but it was too late to turn back. Like it or not, we were committed to helping Rocco.

  My shoulders relaxed as I scanned the suite. Christophe was nowhere to be seen, but I expected him to arrive at any moment.

  Chills ran down my spine. Whatever reasons Christophe had to stick around had to be sussed out. My nerves rattled at the thought of confronting him. It wasn’t what Rocco wanted, but I needed to know what was going on, and asking seemed to be the only option. We needed a plan, and we needed to act quickly.

  Aunt Pearl collapsed on the sofa, tired but seemingly relaxed and unworried. Mom stumbled towards the patio doors, giggly after a few too many drinks at the funeral reception.

  The suite’s air conditioning cooled me but did nothing to ease my frayed nerves. I headed straight upstairs, where I ditched my uncomfortable wool suit for shorts and a t-shirt. I hoisted my suitcase up onto the bed and shoved my belongings inside. I wanted to be packed and ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Of course, Christophe might never return, but the odds of that were slim. Manny wanted to get rid of Rocco, and any of Rocco’s confidantes were likely fair game too. We could be used as pawns, or worse. I had tried to convince Mom and Aunt Pearl of this on the way back to the hotel, but they dismissed my thoughts as ridiculous.

  With or without Mom and Aunt Pearl, I was hell-bent on heading home. As far as I was concerned, Rocco was on his own. Only he could extricate himself from his chosen life of crime. I had serious reservations about leaving Mom and Aunt Pearl in the middle of a mob turf war, but I was powerless to stop them.

  I flashed back to Rocco’s mention of his grandmother and her cause of death. Supposedly Carla had drowned, yet she had been discovered face up in the pool. That same detail had bothered me earlier, but only now did I realize why.

  Drowning victims were normally face down. Drowning necessarily involved being immersed in water, or face down. A body naturally floated in the same position as at death, unless disturbed. Dead people didn’t move around unless there was a current or something else to move them.

  Or somebody else.

  It validated Rocco’s claim. It also alarmed me, since the one person with unauthorized access to Carla’s suite was due to return at any moment.

  I squeezed my suitcase shut and bounded down the stairs. “Aunt Pearl!”

  “Now what?”

  “If you refuse to leave here, we at least need to get rid of Christophe. He can’t stay with us.” I recounted Rocco’s claims. Now that the whole butler charade was blown, I expected something a lot more sinister from him than fancy cocktails.

  Aunt Pearl laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Chris is harmless. He just does whatever Manny tells him to.”

  I raised my hands in objection. “That’s the whole problem. Christophe works for Manny, and Manny wants to kill Rocco.” I couldn’t bring myself to call him Crisco. It was just too creepy.

  “—and Manny does whatever I want him to.” Aunt Pearl tucked a strand of gray hair behind her ear and winked at me.

  “Why are you romantically involved with a mobster?” I threw my hands in the air. “This is serious stuff, Aunt Pearl. We’re in the middle of a turf war, and we’re going to get hurt. You could get us all killed.”

  “Of course it’s serious. We’re here for a reason, Cen. To find and lock up the real killer.”

  I tilted my head towards the patio, where Mom sat at the pool, dipping her toes in the water. In the very same pool where Carla had met her end. I shivered.

  “She’s fine.” Aunt Pearl held up a finger. “Just a sec.”

  I followed her into the kitchen. “Just because the police aren’t doing their job doesn’t mean that we have to. We could get ourselves killed. That doesn’t bring Carla back.”

  “We’ll just get things started. Give the cops a little push.” She pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and snapped her fingers. A chilled pitcher of strawberry margaritas slowly solidified in front of us.

  All this alcohol consumption couldn’t possibly be good. It dulled our senses, as well as our supernatural powers.

  Aunt Pearl poured two glasses and pushed one towards me. “The police are all the same.”

  I ignored both the glass and her pointed reference to Tyler. I was the only one with any sense, and I couldn’t afford to have it compromised with more alcohol. “We’re no match for organized crime.”

  “If anything, I’d call Rocco’s operation ‘unorganized’ crime. Whoever did this has to pay, no doubt about that. Even Jimmy Hoffa never had to share a coffin.” Aunt Pearl’s eyes moistened as she raised her glass to her lips. She downed it in one shot and slammed the glass down on the counter. “Where do I even start?”

  I beckoned for her to follow and we headed back into the living room. I glanced outside where Mom still sat by the pool. Mom looked contented and relaxed, not heartbroken. Though in hindsight she had been acting a little strange for the last few days. “Tell me quick, before Mom comes back inside.”

  Mom and Aunt Pearl’s stories didn’t jive, so one or possibly both were not telling me the truth.

  Aunt Pearl rolled her eyes. “Like I told you before, Bones sure found a way into Carla’s heart. He swept her off her feet and married her, all in the space of about three weeks.”

  I shook my head. “Mom’s bound to find out about all this. It will be in the news.”

  “Yes. Carla’s secret marriage will be exposed. So will the fact that all of Carla Racatelli’s holdings became community property.”

  “Bones inherited instead of Rocco?” I gasped. “You mean she kept the casino in her own name, rather than a corporation? How could she be so—?”

  “Stupid? I don’t know, Cen. Love makes everybody act stupid sometimes. That Danny was a real charmer. You couldn’t really appreciate the effect he has on women until you met him in person. Of course, it’s too late for that now.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph. “These guys don’t like getting their picture taken
, but I managed to get one of all of us, out on a double date. This was just months before Danny left Ruby for Carla.”

  I snatched the picture from her. Mom and Aunt Pearl were at a Vegas floor show. They sat at a front row table with two men. One was Manny La Manna, and the other, Danny “Bones” Battilana, sans forehead bullet hole.

  Manny sat beside Aunt Pearl, casually dressed in a sports shirt, while Bones was impeccably tailored in a white linen shirt and blazer. He smiled warmly at the camera, his arm draped around Mom. She leaned into him, beaming with love and happiness.

  My pulse quickened. Despite Mom’s denial, it appeared that she and Bones had, at the very least, a romantic relationship. And they both appeared to be happy. Yet within months, Bones had apparently married Carla. I needed that margarita after all. I raised my glass and took a sip.

  “What did Rocco think when Bones started dating his grandma?”

  “He wasn’t happy about it. He tried to warn Carla. She wouldn’t listen, thinking Rocco was just upset about her dating again.”

  “Rocco had a reason to kill Bones,” I said. “He wanted control.”

  Aunt Pearl nodded. “Rocco resisted, and that’s what started the lobby gunfight. Bones wanted to scare off the Hotel Babylon’s employees and replace them with his own people. Then he would control everything.”

  “Seems like that didn’t work out very well for Bones. Only Bones wasn’t in the lobby this morning. He was already dead.” I frowned. “If he was already dead, why the gunfight?”

  Aunt Pearl shrugged. “His guys were just carrying out his instructions.”

  I flashed back to the corpse. “They must have been old instructions, because Bones looked like he had been dead for a while.” My hand flew to my mouth. “Rocco could have killed Bones. He has a motive.”

  “True.”

  “You don’t seem all that concerned.”

  “I’m more concerned about who died first, Bones or Carla,” Aunt Pearl said. “If Bones was killed in revenge for Carla, then Rocco has a problem. That would mean that Bones had outlived Carla. He would become Carla’s heir, not Rocco. But I’m sure you’ll prove otherwise.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re good at this investigating stuff, and you have an in with the police. You’ll have us out of trouble in no time.”

  It was the one and only time Aunt Pearl had brought up Sheriff Tyler Gates, and I wasn’t sure why. He worked in Westwick Corners, not Las Vegas, so I couldn’t see what that had to do with anything.

  “No, Aunt Pearl. We really need to get out of here.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “What about Christophe? That guy scares me.”

  “Don’t be silly. Christophe is far too busy whipping up cocktails and appetizers to plan murders. He could really give Ruby a run for her money on the hospitality side, though.”

  I imagined Christophe bartending for us in Westwick Corners, then just as quickly shoved it out of my mind. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t like you fraternizing with these mobsters. It’s dangerous.”

  “You’re overreacting. Crisc—I mean, Christophe—is just here to protect us, Cen. Manny sent him to stand guard over us.”

  “You’re sure about that? This suite has a lot of security and I’ll bet Rocco—”

  “Rocco doesn’t know what he’s doing right now. He’s too distracted. Besides, I didn’t say I believed Manny. I’m just going along with him so I don’t blow my cover.”

  “What—now you’re some sort of secret agent?”

  “You catch on quick, Cen.” Aunt Pearl rolled her eyes. “We keep our friends close, and our enemies closer.”

  Chapter 23

  Aunt Pearl stared off into space. “Ruby never wanted you to find out about Danny, but it’s not like I have anyone else to confide in.” She drew up her legs and slid close enough that I could smell the alcohol on her breath. “We have to tell Ruby the truth about her boyfriend. It’s gonna hurt, but maybe she will see the bright side. Bones was seeing Carla on the sly, but only to take advantage of her casino as a means to launder money.”

  “I don’t see how his ulterior motive to launder money will make her feel any better.” I flashed back to the funeral reception. Finding out your boyfriend had married someone else would ruin anyone’s day. “Mom will still be upset. Why do we have to tell her anything? He’s dead now, so none of that really matters anymore.”

  “Of course it matters,” Aunt Pearl snapped. “Now let’s get back to Carla. She stopped Danny from laundering his money.”

  “I can see why,” I said. “Carla probably had her own money to launder. Adding more might get her caught.” Great. Now I was thinking like a criminal. “Bones was smart to marry Carla. As his wife, she would never have to testify against him in court.”

  “Look where that got him, Cen. The guy’s dead.” Aunt Pearl sniffled. “Bones isn’t really Carla’s husband. Never was.”

  “But the Las Vegas wedding—”

  “All a sham. Carla is—I mean, was—a smart cookie.” Aunt Pearl’s eyes moistened and her voice broke. “She knew exactly what Bones was up to. That’s why she got the idea of a fake wedding. Bones would think they were married, and that bought Carla some time. She wanted to avoid an all-out turf war.”

  “That worked out really well.”

  “She let Danny wine and dine her, all the while knowing he wanted in on the action. Then she arranged a quickie wedding, complete with witnesses and fake paperwork. Only he thought it was real. It seemed like a good idea,” Aunt Pearl said. “But maybe it was too little, too late.”

  “Bones—I mean Danny—must have somehow found out and knocked her off.”

  Aunt Pearl sniffled. “Who knows? We still don’t have any solid proof pointing to anyone. Bones had reason to, but his death provides a rock solid alibi.”

  “Depends on the timing.” It was true that Bones’ corpse had been in much rougher shape than Carla’s, but maybe there was a good reason. “Carla’s body was embalmed, but I’m guessing that Bones didn’t get the same treatment: his body was just dumped in the bottom of Carla’s casket.”

  “So?”

  “He looks like he died earlier, but that’s only because he didn’t get the post-mortem embalming, make-up, and whatever else the morticians do.” I glanced outside, alarmed that Mom had vanished from view. I took a deep breath, thinking I was overreacting. The patio wrapped around the suite on three sides, so she was probably just out of sight, enjoying the view.

  I turned back to Aunt Pearl. “I wish they would do an autopsy on Carla. Drowning just doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s easy to arrange. Your wish is my command.” Aunt Pearl waved a hand in the air and looked towards the ceiling. “I see you’re finally on board, Cen. Better late than never.”

  A sheaf of papers fell from above and landed in my lap. I shuffled the papers into order. “Did you just make this up?

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that.”

  “But the medical examiner didn’t—”

  “Did so. The autopsy was covered up, just like everything else.”

  I held up the autopsy report. “Where did you get this?”

  Aunt Pearl just rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter. You read that while I do a little sleuthing in the casino.”

  “No gambling, Aunt Pearl. You know what it does to you.” Aunt Pearl’s impulsiveness and her gambling problem were a deadly combination. Even if her winning lottery ticket was real, she had probably spent a small fortune to get it. Witches could conjure up just about anything except cold, hard cash. A winning lottery ticket was pretty much the same as cash though. Conjuring one up was akin to supernatural forgery. That was a serious enough breach to warrant a lifetime WICCA ban.

  My aunt broke small rules here and there, but she would never jeopardize her witch status, no matter what. On the other hand, compulsive gamblers had to feed their addiction, so maybe it was beyond her control.

  Aunt Pearl shrugged. “Whatever. I can take
it or leave it. But don’t forget: I’m a lottery winner. I can afford to gamble if I want to.”

  I was about to ask Aunt Pearl for the umpteenth time how much she had won when Mom screamed.

  “Help!”

  We both rushed outside to find Mom waist-deep in the pool. Her hair was soaked, and her mascara was smeared down her cheeks. She must have somehow fallen into the water.

  “How did you—?” I reached out my hand.

  “I don’t know. I somehow dozed off, I guess. Next thing I knew, I was face down in the pool.” Mom’s speech slurred and her teeth chattered despite the heat.

  We pulled her from the pool and Aunt Pearl grabbed a towel to wrap around Mom’s shoulders.

  Mom lurched to one side. “Ouch...I think I twisted my ankle when I fell in.”

  The poolside mishap was further proof that Mom wasn’t her normal, careful self, though I couldn’t recall her drinking more than a glass or two at the funeral. Certainly not enough to pass out, though she had been unsteady on her feet. Whatever the reason, it was totally out of character.

  I shuddered at the close call. One pool accident was enough. If that’s really what had happened.

  Aunt Pearl and I each took an arm and walked Mom to the sofa, where she promptly passed out. At least she was breathing normally. I placed a pillow behind her head and covered her with a blanket.

  I refocused on Carla’s autopsy results. It was dry reading, especially since I was unfamiliar with many of the medical terms. One thing was clear, though. Carla’s true cause of death was not drowning.

  According to the report, Carla’s lungs contained no water, which meant that she had already been dead by the time she entered the pool. I skimmed the report until I reached the section that indicated the cause of death. The medical examiner had ruled her death a homicide, by strangulation.

  I glanced up at Aunt Pearl, who was putting on her shoes, ready to go to the casino. “Wait. Have you read this?”

  “How could I have read it? You’ve had it the whole time.” She walked back over to the sofa and perched on the armrest beside me. “Why?”