by Gina LaManna
Meg gave me a serious look, and I shook my head. “Don’t think about it.”
“I’m only thinking about it. I wasn’t gonna act on it. Well, not unless he initiates it, and then it’s okay.”
The man looked up as Meg let out a low whistle. His eyes registered wild fear and shock, and he took a few halting steps backwards. His hands flew from his pockets and waved wildly in the breeze like wind chimes.
We must have spooked him, standing there and watching him, speaking in low voices. I could only imagine how creepy it looked.
“Hey, are you Looney?” I asked. “Like—your name, I mean?”
At the mention of the nickname his eyes widened even further. He attempted to turn and run, but his gangly legs got tangled and he took a long tumble to the ground. However, he was up in two seconds flat, his back turned to us, his legs working like a windmill.
“Get him,” I yelled to Meg.
She took two steps and then bent over and huffed. “I’ll wait here with the car.”
I was already off on the chase, but my average-sized, under-exercised legs were no match for the toothpicks in front of me working ninety miles an hour. Even despite my recent gym membership. I hollered after him, “I promise you it’s nothing bad!”
Looney hurtled around Landon Afington’s headstone as I caught up. The name on the next cement pillar read TUTTI, and Looney was ducking behind it as if this dead person’s last remnant on earth could save his life.
“What do you want, then?” He peered suspiciously around one side.
“I’m looking for some info on Campani, that’s all. I’m part of the Luzzi family—he works for my grandfather.”
“You’re Carlos’s granddaughter?” Looney asked.
“Yeah. So we’re not turning you in to the cops. In fact, we appreciate your business.”
Looney smiled. “My pleasure. Anyways, what do you want to know?”
“Leo Campani. When’s the last time you saw him?”
Looney shifted a bit. “Man, last week. I meet him here once a week for, uh...business stuff. He helps me with my personal feng shui. I saw him a week ago, and we were supposed to meet here today, but he didn’t show up.”
“Is that like him?”
“Nah, he ain’t never missed a drop-off before. Needs the money, you know?” Looney sniffed and glanced around the graveyard.
“Oh, I know.” I nodded. “Economy sucks these days.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Looney gave a twitch that resembled a shrug. “But last week he was going on about marrying some people for some extra cash. I thought maybe that wedding was today or something.”
“On a Tuesday?” I asked.
Looney shrugged. “You know the drill. Leo’s, uh, professionalism sometimes is a little bit under par. I’d assume anyone asking him to marry them isn’t getting married at the Cathedral, you know what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Looney’s paranoia was starting to rub off on me, and I glanced around. “Well, thanks for your help. Got anything else for me? Anyone that hated him?”
Looney looked at me as if I was the crazy one. “Everyone hated Leo.”
“Dumb question, sorry. Anyone with a particular grudge? Give me something, Looney. I’ll pass along your good wishes to Carlos.” I took a step closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me who to talk to, buddy.”
Looney looked lost in space for a moment. Then, his eyes brightened. “Yeah, you know. Actually...”
He trailed off, and I looked behind me to find the distraction that had caused him to stop the most important sentence he’d utter all day.
Meg lumbered towards us, her eyes wild and her hair looking like it’d been styled by a fork and a toaster. She heaved in deep, shaky breaths. “All those years in cop camp and you’d think they’d train us to be able to keep up with criminals. The state of our force these days.”
“What the hell? She’s a cop?” Looney gave me a disappointed, almost disgusted shake of his head, before he turned, his twiggy ass sprinting into the woods.
“Retired cop,” I yelled after him. “Wait! She’s with Carlos!”
“Fired cop, you mean,” Meg corrected me. She rubbed her ample stomach and plopped down on a headstone.
“It’s bad luck to sit on a grave, don’t do that.” I crossed my arms, fuming at Meg’s untimely entrance.
“Relax, it’s the most action Francis Tutti has gotten in a long, long time.” Meg waved a hand at the woods. “We didn’t need his skinny ass anyways.”
“Yeah, we did.” I sat down next to her, carefully placing my butt between Francis and his beloved wife, Cathy. “He was just about to tell me who to talk to for info about Campani.”
“No shit? That sucks. It’s a bummer you couldn’t have done a better job getting him to talk before he got spooked and ran off.” Meg massaged her calf and grimaced.
I opened my mouth to retort, but closed it as she leaned to the side and passed a lot of gas.
“That’s sick.” I stood up and fanned the air in front of my face. “I’m leaving.”
“Yeah, me too.” Meg followed me down the rocky path away from poor Francis and his wife, now basking in her unpleasant odor.
I kicked at the grass, wondering where to go from here. Maybe we could pore over the materials Clay had given us. With any luck, there would be something in there that alluded to his close-knit group of friends—if he had any. I’d compile a list of his mortal enemies, since just about everyone in the Twin Cities would be on a list of Leo’s regular enemies. I’d add the people he played poker with, those he did “business” with, and any girls who had been unfortunate enough to date him. Realizing that the best place to start might be right beside me, I turned to Meg.
“Hey, you said Campani came into the bar a lot. Who did he usually sit with?” I asked.
Meg bit her lip as she trudged up next to me. “The usual group of guys. Most of them were from your Family, but none of them really liked him. They didn’t seem to hate him either, since he still comes—er, came by. They just sort of tolerated him.”
“Anybody that especially hated him? Or, God forbid, liked him?” I pressed.
“Everybody hated him. I think they just liked taking his money,” Meg said in a matter of fact tone. “But you know, last week he got into a shouting match with one of your cousins. What’s his face? He looks like Snooki.”
“Joey.” My cousin Joe was pumpkin orange and buffer than a freshly cleaned kitchen floor. His eyebrows were perfectly manicured, his body always oily and shiny with some gross crap he slicked on day in and day out. He spent his time pumping iron at the gym and eating meat, and his veins always looked like they were trying to escape the tight constraints of his skin.
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Meg nodded. “Not my type at all. Not that I’d say no to a romp in the sack with ‘im once or three times. Is he married?”
“You really don’t want to do that, but no, he’s not married. He was supposed to be married to my cousin Vivian, but she dumped him for some stuffy banker, and I think he’s still sore about it.”
“Vivian and Joey are your cousins?” Meg asked. “Now I know my moral compass ain’t straight, but that seems a little off even to me. This isn’t West Virginia.”
“Joey’s not related,” I said. “He’s an associate on the same level as Leo, but he’d been engaged to Vivian for so long that we all started calling him a cousin since they were basically married anyways. At least, they fought like they were married.”
“Ah, so big Joey’s got his little heart broken?” Meg looked as if she was contemplating ways to take advantage of that particular situation.
“It seems so. He went a little berserk when Vivian dumped him. He said they were soul mates and all that crap. Plus, it would’ve been a step up in the Family for him. He would’ve been promoted to a real Family position instead of an associate, since he’d technically be related after they got married. Joey hates to work, except on his mus
cles, so he wanted a cushier job.”
“Makes sense.” Meg crossed her arms. “I want a cushy job, too.”
“You have one. You own your own bar and drink whiskey for breakfast.”
“It ain’t easy entertaining all my honeys.” She pouted.
“All right, well let’s get out of here. I guess we’ll go talk to Joey. See what their argument was about.” I fished my keys from my purse and unlocked the door. “Though Joey’s much too lazy to kill anyone. Well, unless they were using his bench press machine. Then, maybe.”
I walked around the car to unlock Meg’s door, since the Lumina hadn’t come with a working keyless system. That was still a bit out of my price range.
“It’s fine. It’s open.” Meg plopped herself into the front seat.
“Huh, that’s weird. I thought I locked it.” I heaved myself in next to her.
“Guess you were distracted by Mr. Crazy.”
“Looney,” I corrected.
I put the key in the ignition and cranked the car, but it didn’t start. I sighed and rested my head against the steering wheel.
“I know who you’re looking for.” The voice coming from the backseat was high pitched and squeaky, overexcited, and utterly creepy. I whipped around, clonking my head against Meg’s elbow as she also shifted to get a peek at our stowaway.
“Whoa, it’s okay. What do you want?” I raised my hand at the sight of a black gun wedged between the seats and pointed straight at my face. “You can have it.”
The man behind us was small and almost feminine in size. The black mask, however, was a bit intimidating.
“That’s right,” Meg chirped. “You want this sex-on-legs girl sitting next to me? Take her. I promise, I ain’t never seen you.”
I glared at Meg, but she’d squeezed her eyes shut.
“No, you can’t take me,” I said. “But anything else, feel free.”
“I don’t want you,” the person behind the gun said. He pulled the mask over his head and let it drop to the seat beside him. “I don’t understand how they wear those things in movies. Whenever I breathe it fogs up my glasses.”
The man—or should I say boy—behind the mask was no more than fifteen years old. He had hair as orange as Joey’s skin and was as skinny as Joey was muscled.
“Hey, I know you.” I pointed, my hand still above my head. “You were at the laundromat. You almost gave me a freaking bloody nose. Only the twins beat you to it.”
“No, I wasn’t.” The kid’s face turned such a brilliant shade of red that it bordered on purple.
“Yes, you were. You were talking to Clarissa and Marissa. You’re not Russian, are you?” I glanced skeptically at his hair.
“Nah, he ain’t,” Meg cut in. “He’s one of those whatchamacallits. An Irelandian.”
“Irish? Probably,” I agreed. “Only explanation for that head of hair.”
“No, I’m not. I’m Italian.” His face nearly steamed with anger.
I laughed a hearty laugh and Meg guffawed.
“Seriously,” Meg said. “I hear some people from the islands in the Caribbean are permanently sunburned. You sure you’re not one of them suckers?”
“I’m positive. My name is Alfonso Campani.” He took a deep breath and his freckles expanded from the exertion. “I’m Leo’s nephew. And I’m Italian.”
I paused. Part of the reason was because we potentially had Leo’s nephew in the car with us. The second reason was because the gun was twitching dangerously close to my right nostril.
“Okay, I believe you,” I lied. “But please do not pick my nose with that gun. Set it on the seat next to you, and we’ll talk.”
“Why should I?” He clicked off the safety.
I spoke as slowly as possible. “You came here for a reason, didn’t you? I’m assuming it wasn’t to kill me. Because if you’re as Italian as you say you are, then you know you’d be signing your own death certificate. Carlos doesn’t let his Family members die without consequences.”
“Yeah, not even if he hates you. Carlos don’t even like Lacey, but he’d shoot you between the eyes if you killed her.” Meg looked far too pleased with herself.
I glared at her bluntness, but I spoke to the boy. “Do you want to wind up in a body bag? How old are you? Fifteen? I bet you don’t have your license yet.”
“I bet you ain’t ever even had a honey. You wanna learn how to handle a woman? I’ll give you your first kiss if you let us go in peace.” Meg puckered up her more than plump lips.
Poor Alfonso flinched and set the gun on the seat next to him.
“Don’t let her kiss me,” he warned in my direction.
“Meg, you need to stop offering your body to men holding guns. It’s never worked once.” I patted her on the shoulder. “It’s a nice gesture, but honestly, not necessary.”
“I don’t mind.” Meg looked a little disgruntled as she fluffed up her breasts.
Alfonso groaned, and his skin morphed from red to green like a set of Christmas lights.
“Puke outside the car only, buddy,” I said.
“He’s just not ready for a real woman, is all.” Meg said.
“Exactly.” I patted her leg.
Alfonso finished dry heaving and then plunked himself back in his seat.
“Tell us why you’re here,” I said.
“I know who killed Leo Campani.” He nodded seriously. “I was going to tell Carlos at the laundromat, but your weirdo cousin kicked me out.”
“How on earth did you expect to get to the back room at your age? You’re a nobody. I’m his granddaughter and that was the first time I was ever invited back.”
“Yeah, but I had information.” Alfonso puffed out his chest. “And I’m a boy.”
I stuck my finger in his face. “Don’t you ever say that again or I’m going to force you to make out with Meg.”
Alfonso gagged briefly, but recovered more quickly this time. “Sorry. But I figured someone wanted to know who’d killed my Uncle. Uncle Leo worked for the mob.”
Alfonso again puffed out his chest in a way that made him look like a constipated penguin. He looked so proud of his uncle, when in reality Leo had been nothing but a sleazy associate with no future in the business.
“So, who did it?” I asked.
“I did.” Alfonso smiled. “I killed him.”
Now it was my turn to gape openly at the kid. “What on earth? Why would you kill anyone? Especially your own uncle? And especially anyone with ties to the Family?”
“He’s suicidal,” Meg quipped.
“Am not,” snarled Alfonso. “But I want to be part of the Mafia. I’m Italian. I’m tough. I killed my own uncle. I made my bones.”
“I don’t think you understand how this business works,” I said. “You don’t just pick someone to kill and immediately you’re in. The orders come down from the top and you have to carry out the mission. Your uncle wasn’t even a made man. He never got the instructions. He’s never killed anyone, Alfonso.”
“Yes, he has. He’s killed loads of people, he told me!” Alfonso put his hands on his hips, but a gleam in his eye reflected the first bit of fear. “You’re just discriminating because I have red hair.”
“I’m not,” I said. “My name is Lacey. My mother didn’t even give me an Italian name.”
“Yeah, but you got a big, fat Italian nose, dark hair, and tan skin. You look Italian. I look friggin’ Irish.” Alfonso scowled.
“Yeah, but you can overcome your beauty issues,” Meg said. “I have a hair artist that can work wonders. She could even do your eyebrows and your pubes if ya ask nice enough.”
“Really?” Alfonso looked her way. “I mean...no.” He flushed and looked in my direction. “What do you mean Uncle Leo hasn’t killed anyone?”
“Leo was a scumbag and a low man on the totem pole,” I said. “No offense, man. The only reason Carlos even cared is because he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a Russian attack. In fact, he’ll be happy to hear it was just
a kid. Again, no offense.”
“Offense taken to the second, not to the first. That’s why I killed Leo—‘cause nobody liked him anyways. Even my pop said he was a sleazeball, and he was Leo’s brother. I did you guys a favor.” Alfonso’s lip quivered.
“Well, I’d give you an A for effort, but that would be illegal. You can’t just walk around killing people,” I said sensibly.
“Carlos won’t protect me?” His lip really shook now.
“Carlos doesn’t even know you,” I said. “I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to turn you in.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a former cop,” Meg said. “Too bad for you. Maybe if you didn’t vomit when I offered to kiss you I’d be lighter on your sentence, but it’s too late now.”
The look in the kid’s eyes turned to all out panic. He fumbled with the door handle for a few seconds while I groped for his arms and the gun slid under the seat. He managed to unlock the door and wiggle out of the small hole. I grabbed the edge of his jacket, but he’d already started sprinting away. I righted myself from the car and turned to chase a second man into the graveyard. By the time I’d righted myself, I nearly tripped over a mass of flesh and squeals not three feet from the car.
“One step ahead of ya, sister.” Meg smiled from her perch on Alfonso’s chest. “Guess I haven’t lost it all.”
“What do we do with him?” I asked.
“Kill him. Or give him to the cops. Or give him to Carlos. Those two are probably your only options.” Meg nodded.
“That’s more than two options,” Alfonso pointed out.
“Not really,” said Meg. “Since Carlos will just kill you anyway, the end result is the same. So, what will it be? Killed or cops?”
“Not looking good,” I said.
“NO!” wailed the boy.
“I’ll tell you what. I am going to make a judgment call here.” I looked at Meg. “If this...child killed his uncle, I have the feeling that’s not something Carlos has time to deal with. He doesn’t get involved in things like this.”
Meg crossed her arms. “Only when it’s like, a bazillion dollars.”
“Right. And he definitely doesn’t want his hands dirty with this, especially if he didn’t even like Leo in the first place.”
