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

by Gina LaManna

  I bit my lip. “Does he have a name?”

  “He does.” The receptionist grabbed a pen and paper, glanced up at her screen, and jotted down two words in cursive. She folded it up, tucked it into an envelope, and sealed it shut. “Here,” she said, handing it over. “Open it when you’re ready. It might be never, and just remember – that’s okay, too.”

  I nodded.

  “It seems like you’ve found your own family, while looking for your immediate one.” The woman tilted her head towards Anthony. She reached out and clasped my hands in hers, folding the envelope into my palms. “And that is what’s important. The past is the past, and you must never linger on it.”

  I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

  “Good luck.” She spun back to her computer. “And remember, stay out of trouble.”

  Anthony placed his hand on my back as we turned to go, but it was resting on my butt as we walked out the door – as if getting into trouble was exactly what was on his mind. “Fat chance of that, huh?’

  “You’re a bad influence.” I shook my head, kissing his cheek. “It takes two to get in so much trouble.”

  “Speaking of getting into trouble…” Anthony gave my rear end a light squeeze. “What do you say we head to your place, and—”

  “Oh, dang it! Hang on a second,” I said, interrupting his proposition only because my phone was buzzing off the hook with Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. When I saw Carlos’s name on my caller ID, I groaned. “How about I ignore this?”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Anthony asked, giving me one last squeeze before pulling his hand away. “You can answer it. I’m always around to get in trouble anytime you like.”

  “Aren’t you generous?” I smiled, then let out a sigh strong enough to register as a mini-tornado, and slid the button on my screen to Answer. “Hello?” I asked. “Carlos?”

  “Lacey, it’s urgent. This is Carlos.”

  “I know who it is, I have caller ID.”

  “This is Carlos, your grandfather.”

  “I know,” I said, giving Anthony my best exasperated face. “What’s so urgent?”

  “The client I told you about is coming to retrieve the item. Tomorrow.”

  “I know, you told me that,” I said, pushing away guilt that I’d taken a few hours off the case to do show and tell. “I’m working on it just as fast as I can.”

  “The client suspects something.”

  “What does he suspect?”

  “That something has happened to the crown, Lacey. Find it, and find it fast. Otherwise, no Haunted House tomorrow. We’ll have other problems to deal with that are far more real than your fake monsters and zombies.”

  “Like real monsters and zombies?” I asked, my voice coming out in a squeak.

  Carlos waited a beat. “Find it.”

  I swallowed, glancing up at Anthony. “Looks like this envelope is going on ice for now. We have an item to find.”

  Chapter 16

  For lack of something better to do, I suggested we head past the local mechanic’s shop and see if Oleg had shown up for work today. We could swing by on the way back to Carlos’s and Nora’s estate, where I could then pore over the attendance list from the personality test this morning.

  It certainly wasn’t the most genius plan I’d ever concocted, but as no lucky breaks seemed to be heading our way anytime soon, the long, manual process would keep me working in the meantime. By going one-by-one through Nora’s list of employees and spending time at the mansion, hopefully something would stick out to me – someone acting strange, a name that was, or wasn’t, on a particular list, a person asking questions he shouldn’t be asking.

  “Doesn’t look like our friend’s around.” I parked in front of the mechanic’s shop, not worrying about being discreet. Both Gary and Oleg were likely to know we were hanging around by this time. “I can see through the window that he’s not in the garage, so unless he’s out back where I can’t see…”

  “Wait here.” Anthony opened the car door, took long, confident strides towards the mechanic shop, and pulled open the door with authority.

  He disappeared with Gary behind the counter for a minute, and my heart pumped considerably faster. I didn’t honestly think Gary was stupid enough to trap Anthony, but still. I wouldn’t put anything past Oleg. Or rather, past his boss. The Fish was a dangerous man.

  Plus, I didn’t have a gun. Or any other way to rescue him. I was thinking about ramming my car straight into the mechanic’s storefront when Anthony reappeared, all in one piece, making his way back across the driveway.

  “No luck,” he said simply. “Let’s head back. I want Clay to look into this.”

  Doing my best to hide my minor panic attack and drastic plans to save him, I nodded and pulled away.

  “You okay? Your hands are shaking,” Anthony said.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I gave him a grin.

  “Getting hungry?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” I swallowed and took a deep breath, pointing our car towards the estate. No way in heck was I going to let him see how easily his brief disappearance had shaken me to the core. Better he thought I was a ravenous beast than a wuss who couldn’t handle her job.

  Thankfully, a vibration coming from somewhere inside the car provided a perfect cover for the ensuing the silence.

  “Is that yours?” Anthony asked, glancing down. “I think it’s coming from between the seats.”

  “Yeah, could you grab it for me?” I flicked my eyes in his direction before turning my attention back to the road.

  “I’m uh, assuming it’s a phone?”

  I stared for a full twenty seconds at Anthony. “As opposed to what, exactly?”

  He shrugged, his face turning red as he slid a hand between the seats of the Lumina. “Just thought I’d ask. I don’t like being surprised.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I groaned, his implication sinking in as I turned onto the side streets leading to Nora and Carlos’s home. “By grab it, I meant answer it, Anthony.”

  “Just checking.” He fiddled around, finally retrieving the device and reading the name on the display. “It’s Clay.”

  “Can you answer it?” I asked again.

  Anthony made no move to answer it.

  “Please?” I asked.

  “He’s your cousin…” Anthony started. Seeing the look in my eyes, he slid the button right. “Hello, Clay. This is Anthony.”

  Clay’s voice came across the line so loudly that I could make out every one of my cousin’s high-pitched shrieks.

  “Meg – here! Costumes...on me.” Clay paused for a breath. “This Haunted House is your problem, Lacey. Lacey!”

  Anthony froze like a deer in headlights. He lowered the phone with robotic motions from his ear, handing it towards me with an overwhelmed expression.

  “I’m driving,” I hissed. “What do you want me to do?”

  Anthony remained still as a statue, pressing the phone against my ear. Between Clay’s shrieks, Anthony’s muteness, and the traffic on the road, it was all I could do not to crash.

  With a sigh, I pulled over onto the shoulder and took the proffered phone. “Clay, this is Lacey. What’s happening?”

  “You didn’t hear a word I said?” he squeaked.

  “No, mostly because you sounded like one of the chipmunks speaking in fast forward on a tape recorder. Take a deep breath and talk in a normal pitch.”

  Clay’s “deep breathing” involved a few quick huffs before he resumed speaking, his pace only a notch slower. This time, however, I focused my full attention on him and caught the gist of the problem.

  “Meg’s over at mine and Clay’s apartment right now,” I murmured to Anthony. “Driving him bonkers, by the sound of it.”

  “Bonkers doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Clay whispered. “I’m locked in a closet. No computer. No devices except for this phone. No lights. She was dressing me up, Lacey. Dressing me up. Do I look like an Aladdin to you?”
>
  I pictured the image in my head. “Actually, I could see it. You’ve got the dark floppy hair…as a matter of fact, I found the perfect vest that could really bring the outfit together—”

  “Lacey, you’re a monster,” Clay said. “She is making me cut out decorations with her. Arts and crafts style. I’ve cut out ghosts and…and, I don’t know, candy corns and shit. All of that for the Haunted House that you’re supposed to be organizing with her. Not me.”

  “Meg’s mad at me. She didn’t invite me to help today.”

  “But I didn’t sign up for this,” Clay said. “You were supposed to plan it.”

  “I didn’t sign up for it either, if we’re going on technicalities.” I looked out the window of the car, not entirely sad I was missing the preparations. Arts and crafts weren’t really my thing, either. I’d never managed the art of coloring in the lines. “Now you know how I feel. Other people always volunteering me to do things I have no interest in doing.”

  Clay fell quiet. When he spoke, his voice was soft, considerate. “You must have a miserable life.”

  “I’ve learned to embrace it.”

  “I can’t do that. Turns out I’m not the optimistic type. Fix this, Lacey. Fix it.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped when Meg’s voice filtered through the phone line, permeating the closet door behind which Clay had hidden.

  “Clay! Where are you? I found the perfect prince’s crown for you. And puffy pants. Put on these puffy pants, Clay – they’ll look great with your magic carpet!”

  Silence overtook the line. I held my breath. I could practically see the angry wisps of smoke coming from my cousin’s ears.

  “Need I say more?” Clay asked. “Fix it, Lacey.”

  “But Clay, I have to find—”

  This time, a dial tone met my ear.

  “What is it with this family and the inability to say goodbye at the end of a phone call?” I asked, looking at Anthony with wide eyes. “Cripes. It’s one word. One word!”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Does it sound like everything’s okay?” If Anthony hadn’t heard Clay’s outburst over the phone, then my head thunking against the back of the car seat and my closed eyes should be enough to tell him that I’d had it up to here.

  “Do you want to…” Anthony shrugged. “I don’t know, talk about it or something?”

  I stopped banging my head against the seat and stared at Anthony, feeling a vacant gaze overtaking my eyes. “What is there to talk about? I’m in trouble with Meg, first of all. Then she took it out on Clay, so now I’m also in trouble with him. I’m supposed to sort out my best friend and my favorite cousin in the middle of an assignment. Which, by the way, I’m also in trouble about from Carlos. If the assignment doesn’t get done, there is no Haunted House. Or worse, there will be a haunted house spooked by real, live, gun-toting monsters.”

  Anthony resumed his deer-in-headlights stare.

  I sighed long, loud, and hard. “So that’s what’s on my mind.”

  “So…this isn’t about you being hungry?”

  I gave a single, disbelieving shake of my head. “All that, and hungry is what you come up with?”

  “I just thought, normally when you’re going crazy – uh, when you, uh…never mind.”

  “Yeah, good idea to not finish that statement, buster.”

  Anthony reached over and grasped my hand.

  The gesture worked, softening my anger. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t take it out on you, it’s not your fault. I’m just conflicted. I should work on the assignment, but having Clay and Meg mad at me is just this thing looming over me that makes it hard to think.”

  “The hippopotamus in the room?” Anthony offered.

  “The elephant, I believe is the saying.”

  “ESL.” Anthony grinned. “That’s my excuse. English was not my first language.”

  “It’s okay, speaking English is hard.” I patted his knee, already feeling better. “I’m just venting. It’s hard to focus on just one thing at a time. But if I don’t, then nothing gets done. If I could just wrap it all into a bundle and take care of everything at once…”

  I stopped speaking, my hand clenching Anthony’s thigh. He eyed the gesture as if he liked where it was going.

  “Hang on,” I said.

  “No, don’t stop. I like what’s happening here.” Anthony gestured to his leg, his smile growing so bright I nearly lost my train of thought. But not quite.

  “I have an idea.”

  “Does it involve moving your hand just a bit higher?” Anthony asked.

  I ignored him, shifting the car into drive and ramming my foot on the gas.

  Anthony sighed and leaned his head back as the Lumina careened around the corner. “Guess not.”

  “Sorry, Charlie, you’ll have to wait.” I drove like I was auditioning for The Fast and the Furious.

  Anthony coughed. “My name’s not Charlie.”

  “It’s a saying. A joke.”

  “ESL.”

  Chapter 17

  “Hi Harold,” I said, rushing through the front door, already halfway past the butler before I finished speaking.

  “My, oh my,” Harold said to Anthony, who followed close behind. “She is a woman on a mission.”

  “She’s hungry,” Anthony replied in low tones. But not so low I couldn’t hear him.

  “This is not about my appetite!” I called over my shoulder.

  “You have your hands full, sir.” Harold tipped his hat to Anthony.

  I didn’t wait for Anthony’s response, just continued hurtling down the hallway towards the kitchen.

  “Hi, dear,” Nora greeted me as I flew into the room. “Are you hungry?”

  I paused. “Why does everyone think I’m hungry?”

  “Well, normally when you’re on a rampage like this one, it’s because you’re hangry.” Nora grinned. “That’s the new swag these days. Hungry plus angry. Hangry. Clever, yeah?”

  “I don’t think that’s the appropriate use of the word swag,” I said.

  “You’re just sour because you’re hangry,” Nora said. “Take a seat. I have leftover pancakes.”

  “No thanks. Not hungry,” I said. “Actually, I was just here to—”

  “Really?” Nora frowned. “I think you’re hungry.”

  “Well, I’m not. I just stopped by to—”

  “Let me fix you a pancake.”

  I sighed as Nora bustled about. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I became temporarily distracted from my plans of world domination, and instead became preoccupied with how I might dodge the incoming rings of cement dough.

  The door swung open, giving me my answer as my boyfriend appeared.

  Popping back up from my seat, I gripped Anthony’s shoulders so tightly I wouldn’t have been surprised if my nails left marks through his shirt. “I’m not hungry, but Anthony mentioned he’s starving.”

  “What?” Anthony glanced wildly around. “No. No…no.”

  “Great.” Nora plopped a plate of black circles on the table. They looked like coasters, felt like coasters, and tasted like coasters. In short, they were coasters that Nora called pancakes.

  “Not hungry,” Anthony mumbled weakly.

  “That’s not what you just told me.” I patted his shoulder and smiled with false cheeriness. “Eat up. I have to call Clay.”

  Anthony’s expression turned so sad I almost felt bad for putting him through Nora’s cooking. But that’s sort of what he deserved for calling me crazy.

  “Haunted House is still on for tomorrow, right?” I asked my grandmother.

  She poured herself a glass of wine before looking up. “Yes, of course. Tomorrow night. Let’s say, six p.m. We can have staff arrive earlier, around four, to get in place and put on the finishing touches. I’m thinking a witch’s brew out front.”

  “Ooh, great idea. I’ll add dry ice to my list.” I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app.

&
nbsp; “Ice isn’t dry, dear,” Nora said. “Where did you go to school? Even Marissa and Clarissa know that ice comes from water.”

  “Dry ice…oh, never mind.” I dialed my cousin. “Clay?”

  “What!?” His question was sharp, pointed, and barbed. All sorts of angry.

  “Yikes, what’s Meg got you dressed up as now?”

  “I will shoot you,” Clay said. “It will happily be the first and only time I pick up a physical weapon that doesn’t involve a computer.”

  “I’m here to rescue you, so hold that thought.”

  “You have three minutes,” Clay warned. “Three minutes, or I’m tracking you down and putting a bomb in your purse.”

  “Lucky for you, I’m not wearing a purse,” I said airily. “And luckier for you, I don’t take offense to threats from family members anymore. Tell Meg I’m here at the estate waiting for her. I’ve dedicated the afternoon to helping set up the Haunted House.”

  “What’s the catch?” Clay asked.

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  “You’re a liar.”

  “Yes, but why do you care? It will get you out of your Aladdin costume for now.”

  A beat of silence followed. “Why didn’t you call her?”

  “Because she wouldn’t have answered.”

  Another silence. “Fine.”

  “Send her over. Tell her to bring all the supplies.”

  “I’m not sure if she’ll agree to meet with you. She’s pretty upset.”

  I bit my lip, watching Anthony’s bicep bulge to epic proportions as he attempted to cut through one of the coasters pretending to be a pancake. “Convince her, Clay. Use your suave powers of persuasion.” I paused, trying to maintain a straight face. “Also, we’ve got food and drinks, that should help tempt her. And I’ll apologize.”

  “Will you dress up as Aladdin tomorrow?”

  “I’m not making any promises.”

  “Come on,” Clay begged.

  I exhaled a loud breath. “I’ll consider it.”

  “Thank you. I’ll work on her,” he said. “Give me three minutes.”

  “Three minutes, huh?” I stifled a laugh.

  Another beat. “Shut up.”

  Anthony looked up as I finished the call. He hadn’t made any progress on his food except to mutilate it to bits. “Dare I ask why Clay needs three minutes?”