A Villa in Sicily: Orange Groves and Vengeance

by Fiona Grace

He shrugged and then nodded. “Guilty as charged.”

  She expected relief to accompany the revelation, but now she felt even more dread. She’d been falling for a mafia man. A killer. And now she’d basically cornered him and forced him to admit it. In the mafia’s book, that probably meant she was one thing: A liability. Someone they needed to get rid of, and quickly.

  But she couldn’t stop now. She’d pulled the lid off, and now was the time to grab onto what was inside.

  “You killed him, didn’t you? You killed Pietro Grinnelli.”

  He shook his head and said, quite definitively, “No.”

  “You didn’t? But you told the police that you’d been walking in the grove all morning, and you never mentioned hearing gunshots or anything.”

  He nodded, stone-faced. “All right. I might not have been in the grove all morning. In fact, I heard the gunshots and ran out to see what the problem was. And that was when I ran into you. At first, I thought you were one of them, but you seemed too flustered to be. So I thought lunch would help calm you. ” He smiled placidly.

  Audrey’s mind whirled, and doubt seeped from her voice as she said, “I don’t understand. You really didn’t do it? And you have no idea who did?”

  “I don’t know. I saw no one else, but you.”

  “One of your family?”

  “No. They only arrived today, after I called them, to help me deal with what’s going on.”

  Her lips twisted. “Then who?”

  He shrugged. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We know the Grinnelli clan. They’ve been our enemies on the mainland for over a century. But we’ve been out of each other’s hair for most of the past two decades. We don’t know why he came out here, what he wanted.”

  “You don’t? You mean, he never stopped by the house, or anything?”

  He shook his head. “Marta said no.”

  “So you mean he’d come all the way over from Italy to randomly wander through your orange groves? That sounds really suspicious.”

  “I agree. And we all agree that it’s put the town in an unfortunate situation.”

  “Yeah, I’ll say. We’ve already had a few other murders in recent months. We don’t need more,” Audrey said, thinking of how Brina had reacted when she’d heard about another murder in Mussomeli. “It’s not good for bringing in more dollar-house-buyers.”

  “Not just that.” He pressed his lips together. “The Grinnelli family is very powerful. And no doubt, they’ve already heard of the murder. So I can promise you, they’re probably getting ready to take the next ferry over and get some retribution.”

  Audrey’s jaw dropped. “That’s not good.”

  He nodded. “I wish I knew who did this foul thing. Because if the Grinnellis think the Piccolos did it, a war will be coming.”

  A war. Guerra. So that was what they were talking about.

  “And you are sure it wasn’t any of your men?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re not lying?”

  “No. No, I know that it wasn’t a Piccolo. And the reason I know is because we left Palermo because we wanted to step away from that history. To leave our evil heritage behind. That is why I’m here, and why many of my family members scattered around Sicily. We want peace.”

  “Did you tell the Grinnellis that?”

  He shrugged and a smile touched his lips. “Yes. But they’re a little like you. They’re so used to us lying that they’d never believe a true word we said.”

  A shiver went down her back. She wondered briefly if Falco and the town council knew anything about this. “This isn’t good. If the Grinnellis come here and wage war on the town . . .”

  “I know. I know.” He turned his hands to the ceiling, then stood up. “It means I probably shouldn’t be speaking with you. And we shouldn’t be in town at all. I don’t want you or anyone else in this town to get caught in the crossfire.”

  She crossed her arms, now a little more relaxed that he wasn’t going to pull out a gun and try to end her life. “So, why did you come, then? Just to find out what I know?”

  “Actually, I did it because I think about you, often,” he said, his eyes glimmering.

  Her mouth dropped open again. Handsome men, dropping by to lavish gifts on her and check up on her. Why had she never had this problem in Boston? “Oh . . . really?” she asked, still doubtful.

  “And I was wondering what you thought of me. But now I know. You think I’m nothing but a lying crook. And you’re right.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but then she thought better of it. He was right, after all. Her response was far less impassioned than she’d planned. “I don’t think you’re that bad.”

  He stood up, went to the door and opened it, a sad smile on his face. “Nevertheless, I’ll stay away from you. For your safety. Enjoy the oranges. Consider them a parting gift.”

  “Thank you. Good night,” she said, closing the door behind him.

  She turned back to look at Nick, now not interested in continuing on with her renovations at all. The wine was going to her head, and now she had so much more to think on. Rafael was mafia. She’d gotten herself involved with the mob. And Rafael seemed to want to keep her safe, but was it too little, too late? And how could she believe anything he said?

  *

  When Rafael left, she stood there, in the dying light of the sun, thinking about many things, but mostly about the choices that led her to this point. And yes, she felt a little sorry for herself. I’m so stupid. How do I get myself caught up in these things?

  She definitely didn’t have an appetite for doing more renovations. Not now. Not to mention that her head felt fuzzy from all the wine.

  Her stomach growled, rousing her from her thoughts.

  Dinner. Dinner would be good.

  Turning back to the house, she realized she had no food to speak of. That is, except for Mason’s pie and a load of oranges. While she ordinarily wouldn’t have minded dessert for dinner, her stomach craved something savory, not sweet.

  She wanted some of the specialty of il Mercado del Pepe—Macco di fave, their delicious bean soup that always perked her right up. She’d practically lived on that stuff, and G’s ciambotta, ever since her plane touched down in Sicily.

  She looked at Nick. “Come on. I’ll get you an apple. My treat.”

  She pulled the door closed behind her and peered up and down the empty street. From her stoop on Piazza Tre, she could just look over and see the orange trees in the distance, melting into the dull pink light of the setting sun. Something seemed to pull her toward it, but she resisted, starting on her way toward Pepe. Don’t bother, Audrey. Someone else will find the murderer. You need to stay out of it.

  She walked along the crooked street, yawning as she dodged in and out of shadows cast down from the streetlights. As she turned onto Barcellona, she waved at a couple of locals that she recognized. Instead of waving back at her, they moved to the other side of the street as she approached.

  She groaned. This is crazy. It seems like the whole town already thinks I’m married to the mob.

  As she approached Pepe Market, she noticed Luigi outside, pulling in the outdoor bins with that day’s vegetables. Luigi is a friend. He gives me free veggies all the time. At least he won’t ignore me.

  She crossed the street, waving at him. “Ciao, Luigi! Come va?”

  He didn’t respond like he usually did, with a full paper bag of that day’s treats. Didn’t even look at her.

  Her heart sank. Really, was she that much of a pariah that even people she considered her friends would ignore her?

  It was only when she neared him that she realized he was staring, quite pale-faced and wide-eyed, into the window of his shop. He was gripping a tomato so tightly in his fist that it had burst, bleeding fleshy seeds on the front of his apron.

  “Is everything all right, Luigi?” Audrey asked, peering through the window.

  “No,” he snapped, his voice full of anger.

&n
bsp; That was when she caught sight of the two men from the orange grove, through the glass. Rocco and Whoever, Rafael’s cousins. They were at the cash register. The shovel-faced one had a pastry crammed between his lips and was fishing in the pockets of his blazer for money. Carmen was checking them out, looking at them with an expression identical to her husband’s.

  “Oh,” she said. “You know those men?”

  He didn’t look at her. He continued to stare through the window, as if he expected he’d have to go in and save his wife from them. “I don’t know them, but I know their kind. They wear their suits and expensive wristwatches and stick out like sore thumbs.” He spit on the ground. “They’re a bad kind. They don’t belong here.”

  Audrey watched as the two men finished paying and, both sharing a private joke and grinning from ear to ear, stepped outside. When their gazes fell upon Audrey, they looked at her with suspicion, which turned back into amusement as Luigi shouted something at them in Italian. Audrey didn’t know what, exactly, but she got the feeling it wasn’t exactly PG-rated, because the hand gestures definitely weren’t.

  The young one fired something back, his eyes dancing. Luigi threw down his bucket of tomatoes and started to lunge, but Audrey put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Easy, Luigi. Remember what you told me about not getting tangled with them?”

  He looked back at her and nodded. “They’re no good,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Cosa Nostra.”

  “Right. They do everything in the middle of the night. No witnesses. So watch yourself.”

  But it’s still daylight, at least, for a little while, she thought, as the two men headed up the street, toward the clinic, looking like they owned the town as they fished fresh powdered-sugar zeppoles from a paper bag and noshed on them. Audrey watched them, wondering just what their part was in this. Had they really arrived after Pietro’s death, or was Rafael covering for them? Or maybe they’d murdered Pietro, and Rafael didn’t know?

  The questions burned inside her, making her shift uncomfortably. They’re not as old or as bright as Rafael. If I could just ask the right questions, maybe they’d give something away . . .

  “Si,” he said as she helped him pick up the bucket of tomatoes. “You should stay away, too. I heard word that you’ve been messed up with them. Tell me it is not true.”

  She sighed. “It’s not,” she said, but that sounded like a lie. “It’s not technically true. I got called out there by an anonymous tip and found the body, so I’m kind of in it. I’ve been trying to stay out of it, but it seems like the more I try, the more tangled I get.”

  “Si. That’s mafia for you. Once you’re in. You don’t get out.” He shook off his grave expression and said, “Can I help you with anything? More soup?”

  She nodded, staring the way the men had walked. “Uh—yes.” She smiled. “Actually, you read my mind!”

  “Coming right up,” he said, walking to the door. He noticed Nick sitting there, begging like a dog with his little paws up, and handed him a shiny red apple. Nick’s tongue wagged with excitement as he bit into it.

  She hesitated there, still looking up the street. “You know, I think I might have forgotten to lock up the clinic. You mind if I just go there and meet you back here in a minute?”

  “Not at all. I’ll have it all ready for you when you return.”

  “Thank you. And thanks for the apple,” she said, heading up the street, toward the clinic. She distinctly remembered locking the clinic a few hours before, but she couldn’t shake her curiosity. What where the cousins doing?

  But as she walked, she looked around, unable to see them anywhere. The two cousins had disappeared, it seemed. She checked her watch. In another half-hour, it’d be dark.

  At her clinic, she stood at the stoop and admired the way her name looked, painted on the window. Dottore Audrey Smart, Veterinaria. She never got tired of seeing that.

  As she stared, a streetlight above blinked on, and she caught sight of something in the reflecting in the glass of the door.

  The two cousins were sitting on the edge of the fountain across the street, facing her. Watching her.

  The blood inside her ran cold. She sucked in a breath and reached for her purse, her first instinct to go inside, draw the shades tight, and hide under the reception desk.

  Then she shook off the chills as a little girl skip-roped past her with her mother. Don’t be silly. This is not some mafia movie. And even if it is, they do their evil in the dead of night, with no witnesses. Right now, it’s daylight, and there are dozens of people around. You’re safe.

  She stood there, though, pretending to look in the window but still watching them in reflection. One of them leaned over and said something to the other, and they both laughed.

  Audrey hesitated there for a moment. Well, why not? You have questions. They have answers. And it’s daylight. Nothing bad happens in daylight.

  Spinning she stalked toward them, into the street. She was so intent on the two men and the questions she was about to ask that she was nearly crippled by a Fiat, heading down the narrow street. It slammed on its brakes and the driver honked the horn.

  “Oh, Scuzi,” she said, tapping the front hood lightly as she navigated around it. She checked for Nick, but he’d already crossed safely, so she resumed her march. The men were still laughing, but now she knew it was at her.

  The older of the cousins—the one whose name she couldn’t remember—said something in Italian, in a rather cheeky, sing-song voice. She knew he was making fun of her, so she didn’t bother to translate.

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “What are you two doing in town? Does Rafael know?”

  The older man snorted and gave her a thorough eye-raking but stayed silent.

  The young one—she was pretty sure that was Rocco—laughed, grabbed a coin from his pocket, and tossed it into the fountain. Then he said in very broken English, “He is not our mommy.”

  The older man motioned with his chin to Nick, who was busy nibbling on his apple. “Is that yours . . . that rat?”

  She inhaled sharply. “It’s not a rat. It’s a fox,” she said, wondering why she felt the need to explain the obvious to a man who was just trying to give her a hard time. “Rafael would not be happy. He said that he didn’t think any of you should be in town. You’re going to cause trouble.”

  The older man laughed harder. “And what do you know about it?”

  She leaned in forward and whispered, “I know that if the Grinnellis are in town and they see you, they’re going to come after you, and innocent people in this town might be hurt or killed.”

  That made the man’s smirk disappear in a flash. Rocco nearly choked on the powdered sugar of his zeppole. “Did Rafael tell you that?”

  Whoops, she thought. Maybe that little tidbit was supposed to be just between them. She shrugged. “I know that the Piccolos and the Grinnellis are enemies. Everyone knows that. One of their men was found, murdered on your property. I think it’s only logical that they’d be coming for retribution, wreaking havoc on this small town.”

  The older man scowled. “We had nothing to do with that murder.”

  “You think the Grinnellis would believe that?” she fired back. “Everyone on the island seems to know the beef your families had with each other. I’m surprised the police haven’t already arrested him. And you two, hanging out here, making a scene--”

  “We’re eating a snack.”

  “Yes, but you look different. Face it, you don’t fit in here. People are talking. Rafael came here to live, to—” She paused, almost saying what he nearly had, which was lie low. “To blend in with the residents, become a part of the town. You two are sticking out, and it’s going to cast suspicion on him. Not to mention that just about everyone is talking about the Tivoli Estate, so the second the Grinnellis arrive in town, the residents will point them right over to it. Is that what you wanted?”

  Rocco leaned in and whispered something to the older of the
cousins. He shrugged. Reluctantly, they stood up to leave. Before they did, the older man came up close to her, too close for comfort. He stared at her for a long time before saying, “Again. We had nothing to do with that murder.”

  The way he said it, she almost believed him. But how could she? He was mafia. They lied for a living.

  “Wait,” she said as they began to walk away. They turned. “If you didn’t do it, then who do you think did?”

  They both shrugged. Rocco leaned in and said, “No idea. We arrived after murder. Rafael, he call us.” He put a finger and a thumb to the side of his face, like a phone receiver.

  “You really did?” She gnawed on her lip. Either they were really good liars, or they were telling the truth. “And do you believe Rafael when he says he didn’t do it?”

  The older man laughed bitterly. “Our cousin is a man of great honor. Of course.”

  “Then who do you think could’ve done it?” she asked them, now completely confused.

  He came up closer to her, his hand patting the weapon under his blazer, and said, “The Grinnellis, like the Piccolo family, has many enemies. Take your pick. All we know is it was not us. But if war comes to us, what choice do we have but to defend ourselves?”

  He turned and walked away, leaving Audrey shivering. She wasn’t so sure she believed Rafael, but she really didn’t believe these men, either. These men were trained in crime. They lied easily, as easily as they breathed. They could have murdered Grinnelli to start this war, and she could very well be playing right into it, like a fool, without even knowing. I’m in over my head, she thought.

  And as she walked back to her home, checking over her shoulder every few minutes, she had the feeling she was only going deeper.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  They do things at night, under the cover of darkness. No witnesses.

  That thought was in Audrey’s head as she made it to her front stoop, quickly unlocked the door to her house, and went in with her Maccu di fave. Nick scampered in behind her and seemed to sigh with relief, just as she did, when he was inside. She turned on a light and threw her back against the door, heart beating like a drum. After being out in the dark, with the mafia running amok on the streets of Mussomeli, her home felt even more like a sanctuary.