Lacey Luzzi: S'mored: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 5)

by Gina LaManna

  Everyone’s eyes settled on my soggy pile of Barilla. Overcooked, under-garnished, and poorly presented, I tried to pretend that I’d prefer my own meal. Somehow, the outcome had looked different on the box. In my head, I’d imagined something more like Marco’s finished product, but alas, it was not to be.

  No one spoke, either because they’d been rendered speechless after looking at my plate, or they were too busy stuffing their faces with Mini-Mario’s five-star cuisine. “Fine, then,” I said. “Meg, you have five minutes to make your decision.”

  I forked a few limp noodles into my mouth. Where the heck was Anthony? If he were here, he’d have my back. This whole cooking thing was way out of my comfort zone. I tended to stick more to a raw diet – raw toast, raw sugar, raw cereal – that was my specialty.

  I’d hoped he would have shown up by now. The afternoon had turned into early evening, and soon the sun would set. I hadn’t talked to him since he’d taken off earlier, except for a few butt dials and our text conversation.

  “What’s your deal?” Meg asked, turning to Dan-the-string-bean, the latter looking a bit dazed and confused. “Tell me your story.”

  “Me?” Dan asked, looking around.

  “I’m looking at you, aren’t I?” Meg said. “You single?”

  “Yeah.” Dan looked down at his empty plate. “I just got out of rehab.”

  “That’s cool, good for you,” Meg said. “Except I own a bar, so I don’t think we’ll work out. Bummer, I thought you were cute.”

  “It wasn’t alcohol,” Marco said quickly.

  Meg looked stunned. “Really? What was it?”

  “Meg, that is personal. I don’t think it’s appropriate dinner conversation,” I said through a chewy mouthful of carbs.

  “It’s hard to call this dinner.” Meg looked down at the plate of noodles I’d shifted in front of her. “This is more like...slop.”

  I set my fork down. “I don’t know why it didn’t turn out better. I followed Nora’s recipe to a tee! She has it posted right here on the fridge...oh, crap.”

  “Where’d you go wrong?” Meg looked over my shoulder.

  “Step one is three glasses of red, and I thought that meant…” I trailed off.

  “Did you put three glasses of wine in the boiling water?” Meg howled as she shook her head. “You know your grandmother. She meant that you drink three glasses of wine before you start cooking. Helps her to be loosey goosey while she’s moving around the kitchen.”

  “Whoops.” I cringed. “I thought it was flavoring.”

  “Well, that’s not the only place you went wrong,” Meg said, “if that makes you feel any better.”

  “It doesn’t.” I said, forcing another bite of the mush into my mouth. I shook my head as Marco offered to scoop me a serving from his elegant platter. My pride was still too injured to give up – plus, there was still time. Meg hadn’t announced a winner yet. But, apparently Meg was focused on something far more important to her.

  “So what were you in rehab for?”

  Marco interrupted. “What do you think? It’s not drugs or alcohol. That’s your hint.”

  Meg sucked in her breath. “Is he a real life sex addict?”

  This time, it was Dan-the-string-bean who nodded.

  Meg stood up. “Well, I will eat my hat. I’m fascinated. I think I might be a sex addict, too.”

  “So, about this competition!” I burst into the middle of the not-for-dinner conversation. “Did I win?”

  Meg, Dan, and Marco all swiveled their heads to me in shock.

  “Win what?” Meg asked.

  “The cooking contest!” I gestured towards the island. “This whole thing we’ve been working on for an hour and a half.”

  “Oh honey, I’m sorry...I didn’t realize you were waiting to find out.” She glanced down at the food. “This wasn’t really a contest.”

  “Oh, okay then,” I said sadly. I stood up. Today really wasn’t my day, and it would probably be better to call it quits before things got any worse. “I think I’ll just go to bed.”

  “Everything okay?” Meg’s eyebrows pinched together. “Have some of Marco’s pasta. It’s no big deal, it’s not like you were going to kick them out anyway. You’re too nice, and they’re harmless. Let the boys stay another night and they’ll vanish in the morning.”

  “I’m not really hungry,” I lied, my stubbornness turned up to the max. “I had plenty of my wonderful noodles. No one else even gave them a chance…”

  “Here, if you must go…” Marco scooped a teensy pile of his gorgeous pasta into a bowl. “Take it with you.”

  “Who is this size portion supposed to feed, a mouse?” I glanced down at the bowl with a total of ten noodles tucked under the still-steaming red sauce. I drooled at the scent.

  “You will want to maintain a slim figure, yes?” Marco looked me up and down.

  “I’ll maintain whatever figure I want.” I meant to leave the bowl on the table, but I forgot. Somehow, it seemed stuck to my hand as I tried to stalk out of the room. “My soul mate will love me for whatever shape I’m in – square, stick, or spherical.”

  “But I love you!” Marco shouted after me.

  “Cool it, brother,” Meg said. “She’s sensitive after losing the battle. Give her some time.”

  I retreated to my room, brushing shards of bed frame off of my mattress. Letting myself sink into a pity party that lasted close to a minute and a half, I inhaled Marco’s pasta, wishing mine tasted even a tenth as scrumptious.

  Marco’s Pasta – 1, Lacey’s Pasta – 0.

  When I couldn’t possibly lick any more sauce from the bowl, I set it aside and decided to go on a “hunger diet” for the rest of the night, since I couldn’t bring myself to go back into the kitchen. I’d lost the cooking contest, I had no idea what was happening with Anthony, and I was no closer to finding out why I’d been the recipient of a dead body.

  Sighing, I rolled over and hoped for sleep to come and with it, a new day.

  Chapter 24

  Sometime deep, deep in the night, I woke from a sleep as solid as a boulder. Keeping my eyes closed, I tried as hard as I could to control my breathing, but try as I might, I’d never heard myself inhale and exhale during sleep, and my breaths came in erratic puffs. A footstep creaked against the floor. Pant legs swished softly against each other.

  I didn’t dare roll over.

  “It’s okay, it’s me.” Anthony spoke in a calm, slow voice.

  I rolled over, and in doing so, came face to face with Anthony standing next to the mattress. He looked down at me, the moonlight glinting off his dark eyes, though his expression was difficult to read.

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  “I’m sorry to startle you.” Anthony lowered himself so he sat on the edge of the mattress. “I meant to sleep on the couch, since it’s so late. I didn’t want to wake you when I came back, but I couldn’t...I couldn’t resist. I needed to see you. Make sure you were okay.”

  Any feelings of frustration I’d had quickly faded away. I reached my arms up to Anthony and locked my hands behind his head, pulling him close.

  Anthony tumbled onto the bed, protectively rolling me with him so that we ended up in each other’s arms, nose to nose on the floor among chunks of dismembered bed frame. Romantic honeymoon suite, this place was not. But it didn’t matter. It only mattered that he’d come back to me.

  “Where were you?” I looked into his eyes, searching for the answer when he hesitated.

  “You’re not going to like this.”

  My joy at seeing him deflated ever so slightly. “Let me guess, you can’t tell me.”

  “I was taking care of a problem. For you, Lacey. I was only doing it to keep you safe.”

  “Why can’t you tell me?”

  “I promised someone.”

  “Who did you have to promise...and why?” I peered into his stormy brown eyes, which still contained the hard edge that went along with the “business” side of Anth
ony’s personality.

  “I needed to get more information. I needed a name on the body, and the police were keeping the information locked up tight.”

  “You could have talked to Clay.”

  “He couldn’t have gotten a name.” Anthony brushed his thumb over my cheek. “You’ve got to understand that Tonka is a small town. Incredibly small. The only way to get on the inside is to be on the inside. And that doesn’t come from a computer program. It comes from contacts, and I happen to have one.”

  “Do you have contacts everywhere?” I gave a small smile.

  “Everywhere I need one to keep you safe.” Anthony didn’t smile back. “I’ve been here a handful of times, and I know one of the local cops that was able to pass along Facelli’s name.”

  “I told Clay about him.”

  Anthony nodded. “I spoke to him after you did. He agreed – without an inside source, it might’ve been days, weeks even, until your cousin could’ve gotten into the system. The technology around here is slow, old, and frankly, less reliable. Best to go straight to the source. Water cooler chatter is gold in a town this size.”

  “I understand.” I let my hand trace along Anthony’s chest. What on earth was my problem? He’d barely been gone for half a day, and here I was, acting as if he’d been gone for months.

  “But I’m back, and we’re farther ahead now,” Anthony let my fingers pull the material of his shirt taut, and he held me even tighter than I thought possible. “We don’t have everything figured out yet, but the police are watching, I’m watching...we’ll be okay, Lacey.”

  “I know that.” I smiled again. “I’ve never doubted you.”

  Anthony’s eyes lost a bit of edginess. “Don’t ever doubt me, sugar. You’ve no reason to. Ever.”

  “But Anthony,” I said, the words heavy on my tongue, “what took so long?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “I’m not asking for details.” I didn’t like the pleading note in my voice, but I wasn’t a moron, and I could put two and two together. Grabbing coffee with an old friend and asking for the name of a body, as a favor, didn’t take until...what time was it? Two a.m.?

  “My source offered to let me sit in on an operation involving some of the potential suspects – suspects that we think might have been involved with Facelli’s death. I agreed.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “I can’t speak to the details.”

  “But I’m the one who was framed. Or sent the message. Or whatever. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Honey, I c—”

  “You can’t,” I finished for him. “Okay. Let me at least guess.”

  I took Anthony’s silence as a go ahead.

  “Something to do with diamonds. Maybe involving the truckers Laurelei told us about. But why would they have wanted Facelli dead? Did he turn on them or something?”

  “I don’t know that,” Anthony said, surprising me by offering his input. “I still am not sure why they’d want him dead.”

  Anthony’s cryptic response had me thinking. He must’ve promised his contact he wouldn’t divulge any details, which was why he didn’t specify he’d been focusing on the diamond smugglers.

  But he didn’t deny it, which meant my guess was probably spot on. Still, Anthony didn’t seem convinced the “truckers” were involved with the murder.

  So if it wasn’t them, who’d had a bone to pick with Facelli?

  “It’s late, let’s get some sleep,” Anthony murmured against my shoulder. His hands ran leisurely up and down my arm.

  “Hey, so does this mean we’re out of going to the karaoke bar tomorrow night?” I asked, breaking the quiet. “If you’ve already checked out the smugglers…”

  “No. I wasn’t able to compare your source’s information with mine to see if they were the same people. There’s a chance there are two different crews working.”

  “Are you going to sing?” I asked.

  “Doll, I don’t sing.” I fell silent, picturing Anthony on stage at karaoke. It was impossible; I couldn’t conjure up an image, no matter how hard I tried.

  His breathing evened, but I wasn’t quite ready to let him drift off yet. After all, we were alone, the house was quiet...snuggling up against him, cocooned in the comforter, our bodies pressed close, I wiggled a little bit. “Are you awake?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Do you wanna...hang out?” I asked, looking straight ahead at the wall.

  “Why don’t we get some sleep? I’m exhausted.” Anthony’s voice already sounded far away, as if he were drifting off.

  “Oh, okay. Good night.” I pretended not to be disappointed.

  “We can hang out if you want, but I’ve been looking forward to crawling in bed with you all evening. Holding you close. Sleeping with you in my arms.”

  I smiled, though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “That sounds nice, you’re right. We can...hang out tomorrow.”

  “Good night, sugar.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  Chapter 25

  “What a beautiful day,” Meg trilled, bounding into the room. “I got my gold karaoke boots rarin’ to go, I’ve got my—” she stopped talking and walking all at once. “When did you get here?” She glanced at Anthony as if he were an intruder who’d snuck into my room during the night. He sorta had, I guess, but I welcomed the cuddles.

  “Argh.” Anthony pulled the comforter up over his head, trapping himself in a nest of blankets.

  “He came back late from...something,” I offered unhelpfully.

  “Something?” Meg narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that, buster.”

  “It was a work something.” I narrowed my own eyes in her direction. “But what’s truly suspicious is why you’re up at ten in the morning. And cheerful about it.”

  Meg shook off her suspicious glares towards the lump next to me on the mattress and perked right back up, a brilliant smile on her face. “Because it’s karaoke day, of course!”

  “But you know we’re only going as part of a job, right? To scout out the truckers.”

  “What’s a better way to scout out the target than to be so into the moment they don’t know we’re deep, deep undercover? The more into it we are, the less likely they’ll catch onto us. How do you like my boots?” She stuck her leg out and wiggled skintight, thigh high gold things with heels that brought her up an extra six inches in height.

  “They’re beautiful.” I shielded my eyes as the sunlight hit the sparkly buckle. “But aren’t we trying not to stand out?”

  “Okay, Lacey, put your thinking cap on. Who do you think is more odd looking? Me, a person embracing the ancient art of karaoke and glamming it up – or you, a person sitting quietly in the corner in yoga pants.”

  “I don’t think I want to answer that.” I personally didn’t see anything wrong with sitting quietly in the corner. In fact, I was pretty sure that by sitting in the corner without singing, I’d be doing the room a favor. God hadn’t graced me with a beautiful singing voice. My vocal cords were built for speaking, and speaking only.

  “Plus, we’ve got to show this town how us city folk do things.” Meg took a few wobbly steps further into the room. She extended her heel and gave Anthony a light kick to the foot. “What song are you singing?”

  Anthony grunted, a moan so agonizing I briefly wondered if he was in physical pain.

  “I don’t think either of us are the singing type,” I said, looking at the impossibly still lump next to me. “We’re okay being the weird couple in the quiet corner.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re turning frumpy on me.” Meg flounced a hand on her hip. “You’ve been in a relationship for what, two days? Three days? And already you’re a grandma. Nothing wrong with being a grandma, mind you, but it’s pretty unusual since you’re only twenty-nine.”

  “Meg, I’ve never liked singing! Nora asks me to refrain from participating in Happy Birthday. That’s how bad my voice is – my own grandmo
ther requests my silence.”

  “Well, good thing I’m not your grandma. But I am your vocal coach. And your designer. And your support team. And your duet partner. So get your rear end up because we’re going shopping.”

  “I’m lost,” I said, feeling Anthony shudder beneath the covers next to me, as if recoiling in horror at Meg’s words. “Which part of this assignment requires a shopping trip?”

  “Did you bring karaoke boots?” Meg shot me a judgmental stare.

  “I don’t have karaoke boots.” I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve never done karaoke before.”

  “Oh, lawdy. We have more work to do than I thought. Get that tushy moving.” Meg walked over and grabbed my arm, hauling me away from the mattress.

  “But I have work to do!”

  “You’re on vacation,” Meg said, eyeballing me with heavy skepticism. “What do you have to do today?”

  I glanced at Anthony. “Do some investigating...find out why—”

  “I can handle it.” Anthony’s voice filtered through the heavy blanket.

  “Traitor!” I pointed a finger at him. “He doesn’t have karaoke boots, either.”

  “He also doesn’t have legs like yours, honey,” Meg said, giving my butt a nice, firm pat. “Anthony said he can take care of it. Plus, I’m betting Clay and Anthony are on the case of your taco-covered trunk friend. We’re technically working on Carlos’s assignment, getting ready for karaoke. So you are working. What else you gonna do all day? Sit around and mope?”

  I still hesitated. Moping sounded better than strapping myself into karaoke boots and shopping all day.

  “It’s girl time,” Meg said, laying on the guilt. “You won’t abandon me, will you?”

  One look at her pouty lip, and I shook my head. “Fine, let’s go.”

  “Thatta girl!”

  “Give me a few minutes to get ready.” I turned back, but Meg clasped her hand around my wrist.

  “No. You have one minute.” Her voice was deadly serious. “And I’m staying here to watch you. I don’t trust your word that you won’t climb through the window.”