Lacey Luzzi: Spooked: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 6)

by Gina LaManna

  LACEY LUZZI: SPOOKED

  Copyright: Gina LaManna

  ISBN: XXXX

  Published: October 22th, 2015

  Kindle Edition

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  Seasoned – the seventh Lacey Luzzi book is due out December 2015!

  Spooked Synopsis:

  Trick or Traitor?

  Haunted houses, candy, costumes…and a ghost.

  Once again, Lacey Luzzi hasn’t signed up for any of it. Except the candy. But when Carlos corners her with a very special request, she can’t bring herself to say no. With three days to Halloween, Lacey is drawn into a high stakes mission where she’s forced to investigate those closest to her – and they don’t like it.

  Will Lacey expose the traitor before it’s too late, or will the Luzzi house go from spooky, to downright scary?

  Acknowledgements:

  To you, my readers! Thank you for your friendship and support.

  I appreciate each and every one of you, and without your encouragement, Lacey would not exist!

  ** **

  To Alex. My brainstorming machine. You are my most favorite Halloween treat. я тебя люблю!

  To Mom— For being the best Halloween face-painter in town.

  To Dad— For setting up the dry ice for our witches brew!

  To Meg & Kristi— For being my costume buddies, even in the snow.

  To Gillian and Sherry— As always, thank you for your fantastic editing. The book would not shine without you.

  To Barb— Thank you for your friendship and support! Without you, my first line would be all sorts of wrong. =)

  Dianne & Diane—Your support, encouragement, and suggestions mean so much to me.

  To my Oceans Apart ladies—I love each one of your accents equally. You are as good as sisters to me!

  To Sprinkles On Top Studios, my awesome cover designer.

  Photo Courtesy of Deposit Photos

  To Stacie (aka Nikki) and Kelly— you’re my absolute favorite beaches, from the beginning.

  To Katie, Emily, Nicole, Shelly, Rissa, Nikki, Julie and Molly, for being my friends!

  And last but not least, to all my family and friends, thanks for making me laugh.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  THE END

  Chapter 1

  “Meg, there are children here,” I whispered, glancing around the Halloween costume store. “You’ll scare them.”

  “C’mon, Lacey. The way you’re talking, Halloween is a kid’s holiday, which is just ridiculous.” Meg turned towards me, flaunting a mask with fangs as large as my forearm. “Relax.”

  “It is a kid’s holiday.” I ducked down an aisle in the opposite direction, pretending we didn’t know each other.

  Meg chased after me. She caught up and attempted to sink her fangs into my arm. “No, it’s not, that’s just marketing. Halloween is really an excuse for adults to dress up in redonkulous outfits and overdose on candy.”

  The vampire before me – also known as Meg – was a former cop, as well as my best friend since childhood. Though I loved her to death, at the moment she had me wondering how close we were to getting arrested. It wasn’t the scary mask that had me nervous, or the strange clown wig plopped on her head. It wasn’t the fake blood she held in one hand, or the fake knife she brandished in the other.

  No, it was the fact that Meg had decided to try on the sexy French maid outfit in the middle of the store, while mothers bustled by, doling out scathing looks like Twix Bars on October 31st.

  “Oh Lacey, I don’t want to hear your lies.” Meg turned to me, extending her feather duster and tickling my nose. “You hoard candy worse than any child.”

  “Not true.” I sneezed. “Not usually true.”

  “I saw your stash last year, you little liar. You bought king-sized candy bars, Rolos, all sorts of delicious things. Then when kids came aknockin’ on your door, you put those treats back in the pantry and handed out pre-wrapped bags of carrots.”

  “That’s not totally true. I threw some Smarties in with the carrots.” I tried hard to keep the guilt out of my expression. “The parents appreciated it, just not the kids.”

  “Don’t try to pretend you’re doing a holy thing by giving out carrots; no parent likes getting veggies on Halloween.” Meg put a hand on her hip. “Every mom picks her favorite candy out of her kid’s bucket. How many do you think pick out the carrots?”

  I shrugged.

  “Your mom always took the Almond Joys from you,” Meg said. “But I think that’s only because she knew they were your least favorite. Remember that time when you were like, fifteen years old? She tried to steal one of your Twix bars and you burst into tears.”

  I grabbed Meg’s arm and pulled her into a deserted aisle. “Yeah, yeah, Ms. Honesty. Like you haven’t nabbed your fair share of my goodies.”

  “I’m not into Halloween for the candy.” Meg gestured to her curvy figure, focusing on the tiny little skirt that didn’t quite cover her spandex shorts. “I’m in it for the costumes. It’s a chance to look racy in public.”

  “How about we race-ify you at home?” I squinted at her costume. “People are staring.”

  “That’s the point, chickadee.”

  I looked up at the ceiling, struggling to find a way out of the situation. We’d arrived at the costume store well over an hour ago, and by now we were on the verge of getting kicked out. The manager had walked by more times than I could count, though he seemed afraid to get too close to Meg. The French maid outfit didn’t do much to hide the gun she had holstered around her thigh.

  “You could get in trouble for having a weapon in here, Meg,” I said, as she bent down to slip on a pair of clown shoes.


  “I’m not concealing anything, am I?” Meg asked, gesturing to her legs. “I got a permit to carry, even if this gun is just borrowed from an old friend.”

  “Are you calling the evidence locker an old friend, now?”

  Meg didn’t answer. At least, she didn’t answer my question. “Or – I was also thinking I could be Jasmine. You could be Aladdin. I think we’d be a great combo.”

  I didn’t have a ready response. I’d sort of want to do a couple dress-up with Anthony, if he’d do it. But now was not the time to argue. Meg had stuffed me into an Albert Einstein wig, a witch’s hat, and platform sandals a foot high. I wasn’t a quick runner normally, but I’d have a hard time racing a slug right now, and Meg had a gun. If I said no, it wouldn’t be a competition.

  “What do you say, Aladdin?” Meg eyed a Pretty, Pretty Princess crown made of plastic. “I think I’d make an excellent Jasmine. Maybe Clay can be the Genie. We could do a three-way.”

  “Let’s not reference Clay, Lacey, and three-way in the same sentence, please.” I choked back a gag at the thought of my sweet, awkward, computer genius cousin. “That’s just wrong.”

  “Look at these pants, all see-through and billowing around. I’ll look fabulous.” Meg held up gauzy material that might be pants, and might be first aid supplies. To complete her Disney costume, she selected a light green, diamond-studded bra, holding it out for me to examine. “I’ll outshine all the other munchkins dressing up.”

  “It’s not a competition.” I smiled at a mother pushing a stroller past us, eyeing Meg up and down with a confused expression.

  “They’re just jealous,” Meg waved a hand.

  “I don’t think that’s the case, but regardless, we have to swing by Nora’s house sometime today. We’ve been here so long my hair – my actual hair follicles – are sweating under this wig.”

  “Use deodorant.”

  “On my scalp?” I gestured towards the pile of costumes surrounding Meg. “Let’s pick a costume. Which one you want? Let’s get going.”

  “You never confirmed if you’ll be my Aladdin.”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You’re thinking of ditching me for Anthony.” Meg narrowed her eyes at me. “I can sense it.”

  “No, I just haven’t picked out a costume.” Which was mostly true. I also hadn’t asked Anthony if he’d even be the second half of a costume with me, yet.

  But I had, in secret, been putting together something he might agree to wear. It was a two-partner costume, and when I’d seen it done online, the photos looked adorable. Mine didn’t look quite as adorable as the pictures yet, since I was making it by hand, and art was not my forte. No, at present it looked more like a ball of garbage glued together, but there was still time.

  “Fine, Disney themed it is,” Meg said, selecting the Jasmine costume and heading towards the register. “They don’t got a good Aladdin here, but I can make you one.”

  “No, please don’t worry about it—”

  “I’m not worried.” Meg grinned. “I love Halloween! Hopefully Clay will agree to be the Genie. Oh shoot, suppose I gotta get rid of this French maid thing, huh? Or maybe I can be Jasmine-the-French-Maid.”

  “Let’s stick with just Jasmine.” I trailed behind Meg as she discarded one item of clothing after the other.

  By the time she reached the checkout, she’d straightened her black halter top and adjusted a skirt over her spandi-shorts. Meanwhile, I retraced her steps and picked up the pieces of the maid outfit, stuffing them back into the bag, all the while thinking that Clay would be more likely to start dating a girl than he would be to dress up as a big, blue cartoon character.

  ** **

  “Harold, are you interested in being a tiger?” Meg asked, a hand on her hip.

  Harold-the-butler looked rightly surprised as he opened the front door to Carlos Luzzi’s estate. Harold had been with the Family longer than I’d been alive, imported straight from London with a fancy accent to boot.

  “Meg, how lovely to see you.” Harold drew my friend in for a one-armed pat on the back. He then turned to me and pulled me in for a hug.

  “Sorry about that,” I whispered. “She’s recruiting for the entire cast of Aladdin.”

  “Did I hear her correctly?” he asked. “A tiger?”

  “For Halloween.” I took a step back. “Meg is going to be Jasmine, and she wants a posse.”

  “Oh, dear, I’m sorry,” Harold said. “I have a costume already.”

  “What are you gonna be?” Meg raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Oh, um. A doorman.” Harold looked flustered for the first time since I’d known him.

  “Ain’t you a doorman already?” Meg asked.

  “I’m a butler, dear.” Harold’s fists curled into balls at his side.

  “Oh, all right then,” Meg said without a hint of sarcasm. “Very creative. I like it. Your accent will make you perfect for the job.”

  Harold’s fists relaxed. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “You know, or you could be Harry Potter,” Meg suggested, taking a few steps past the entryway and into the Great Hall. “He’s got one of them funny accents, too.”

  “Ah, great suggestion, darling.” Harold gave me a look that said he was in far over his head where my best friend was concerned. “Are you here to see Carlos?”

  “Nora, actually,” I said. “Have you seen my grandmother?”

  “The kitchen,” Harold gestured down the hallway. “I think she’s expecting you. You should hurry...” he lowered his voice. “Away from me.”

  The last part of his phrase was for my ears only, as Meg was busy examining – and I mean thoroughly examining – a naked statue in front of the stained glass windows of Carlos’s mansion.

  My grandfather, mob boss of the Twin Cities area, had more money than most countries. More weapons, too. Tucked into the suburbs of St. Paul, Carlos’s setup was bulletproof, bombproof, and theft-proof, made up of secure windows and doors and enormous walls surrounding his expansive property. Guards crawled every inch of every hallway – large, intimidating men who’d forgotten how to smile. Rumor on the street was that an invisible barrier protected the estate from air attacks. Yet the mansion was not Meg-proof.

  “Whoops,” Meg said, holding onto the finger of the statue, which was unfortunately no longer attached to its body. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

  “I’m just gonna put that away for now, and I’ll super-glue it later,” she said, backing away, shoving the stone finger into her pants pocket.

  I swallowed hard, looking up at Carlos’s version of the famous David statue. Before Meg’d felt him up, the figure had held two fingers in a half-waving position, but now that one of them was gone, the guy just appeared to be flipping off the world.

  “Carlos is so going to notice the missing finger,” I said, leaning in for a better look. “There’s no way to hide it.”

  “You think?” Meg tilted her head. “I think it’s an improvement, actually.”

  “Come on.” I grabbed my friend’s arm and pulled her down the Hallway of Infamy. “If we can get Nora alone, maybe we can break the news to her and she can tell Carlos.”

  “Chicken!” Meg bawked.

  I ignored her squawks as we passed Nora’s decorations along the hallway leading up to the kitchen. All sorts of arrest warrants, city violations, and even a few mug shots hung from the wall. Clay had a certificate posted asking him to never hack into the CIA’s database again – and by certificate I mean a severe warning – and there were one or two casino receipts from Vegas.

  But most importantly, towards the end of the hall, hung my eighth-grade spelling bee certificate. That’s right. I was a champion.

  “You don’t think this finger thing is going to be a huge deal, do you?” Meg asked, holding it out to me.

  “Give it here.” I reached out and retrieved the stone digit from her. “I’ll take the blame for this one.”

  “That’s real sweet of you,” Meg
said, handing it over. “I knew you were my best friend for a reason.”

  “You owe me one.” I paused outside the door to the kitchen, hoping that since I was family, Carlos wouldn’t be too upset over a tiny, missing finger. “And I’m going to cash in on that favor, so remember it.”

  “You got it. Anything. I’ll give you all my candy,” Meg exclaimed. “Except for the Twix bars, the Snickers, the Twizzlers, the Nerds, the…” She was still going on about the exclusions list as I pushed the door open and entered the kitchen.

  “Hello, girls,” Nora called, popping her head through the doorway on the opposite side of the room. “Take a seat, have some cookies. I’ll be right there.”

  Meg and I made ourselves comfortable at the large mahogany picnic table in the middle of the room; a platter of cement bricks – masquerading as cookies – sat in the center, surrounded by a few empty wine glasses.

  “Don’t.” I reached a hand out and slapped Meg’s hand away as she reached for the cookies. “Do you want to go to the dentist?”

  Meg gave me a skeptical look. “Both my stomach and my teeth are as strong as Iron Man.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I removed my hand.

  She grabbed a small cement ring, and with a huge smile, bit into it. Her smile faded into a wince of pain when her teeth clashed against the biscotti, not even making a dent. “Ow.” She rubbed her jaw. “Harder than I remembered.”

  I shrugged. “I won’t say I told you so.”

  “Gotta have some wine to take the edge off the pain.” Meg set the cookie back on the platter and poured herself a glass of red vino. I couldn’t even tell which cookie she’d tried to eat; they all remained perfectly intact, tooth-mark free.

  “Wonder what Nora’s doing.” I stood up and walked to the opposite side of the room and peeked out the doorway through which Nora had disappeared.

  There was no sign of her.

  “You think this is a good fit?” Meg asked when I turned around.

  I blinked. “How on earth did you get that on so fast?”

  Meg twirled in her Jasmine costume. “Years of practice.”

  “Practice doing what?”