by Fiona Grace
She raised an eyebrow. “You will? Because I had poor Ricardo, the poacher, arrested for—”
He nodded. “Don’t worry about that. We’ll clear it up. But I think it’s probably a good thing that Ricardo stays in hot water for now, considering he was hunting illegally on my land. Don’t you think so?”
“I suppose so. And how did your men know that we were going to be—”
He laughed. “I’m not an idiot, Audrey. But apparently, Marco is. I texted them when he sent me to bring the car around back.”
“Oh.” That made absolute sense. “I guess I didn’t even think about that. I was too busy freaking out over the gun pointed at my face. I’m so glad at least one of us kept a clear head during things like that, because I couldn’t think. Something tells me you’ve been in situations like that before.”
He shrugged. “Once or twice.” He held out his bent arm to her. “Now that that business is taken care of, how would you like to join me and the boys for a nice bowl of minestrone? Did he tell you, Giuseppe makes the best minestrone on the whole planet?”
She smiled. “Well, I—”
“It’s the least we can do to thank you. You prevented a big war between our families. We’re very grateful.”
“In that case, I don’t mind if I do.” She slipped her hand into his offered arm, and together, they walked back to the Tivoli mansion.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
That evening, in the gorgeous courtyard, lit with fairy lights, the members of the Piccolo clan sat around a massive, long table, where there was plenty of minestrone and red wine to go around. Giuseppe sat at one end, with Audrey catty-corner to him, and Rafael on her other side. The head chair on the other side of the table was, oddly, empty. The chatter was mostly Italian, very little of which Audrey understood, but she couldn’t deny that everyone was in a good mood, and it made her smile, too.
As they waited for the first course, Marta came out and whispered in Rafael’s ear. He nodded, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and stood up. “One moment,” he said, smiling at Audrey.
When he was gone, Giuseppe leaned in and said, “So you did not take my advice about staying out of things.”
She gritted her teeth and gave him a sheepish look. “I’m sorry. I tried to. But I guess my curiosity keeps getting in the way.”
“It’s all right. I suppose it makes sense, you being a doctor and all. You’re never satisfied until you have all the answers,” he said, winking at her.
A moment later, the door to the house swung open, and three men appeared. One was Rafael, and on the other end was Marco, head town, tail firmly between his legs. They were escorting a hunched man with a cane. He was frail, with pure white hair, abundant wrinkles and had to have been at least ninety years old. Rafael slowly led him to the chair at the other side of the table, and as he sat down, everyone seemed to bow their heads in reverence.
Giuseppe leaned in. “Don Piccolo,” he said in a low voice. “He has been our leader for over forty years.”
“Oh . . .” Audrey breathed.
Marco took the seat beside him. After settling them both in and pouring their wine, Rafael jogged over to his seat and sat down across from Audrey. He nodded and said, “My grandfather.”
Audrey nodded. “But why is Marco—”
“It’s tradition. We share meals with our enemies. If you’re willing to eat with those who will betray you, it shows that you are the bigger man,” he whispered to her.
“But the police—”
“They’re on their way. Our business with him is done. He’ll be handed over to them for whatever justice they feel fit to pursue,” he explained.
The old man at the end of the table rose to his feet and lifted his glass. He spoke in Italian for a while, in such a soft voice that Audrey zoned out. She couldn’t believe she was here, sharing a meal with a mafia family. “Audrey Smart?”
The mention of her name jolted her back to reality. She blinked to see Don Piccolo, staring at her. “To Audrey Smart!” he said in very broken English. “Who saved our people from a bloody war. The Piccolo familia is forever grateful. Salud!”
The room erupted into cheers and everyone drank.
Audrey blushed as she beamed. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It was nothing.”
Rafael leaned over to us. “It was not nothing. In fact, it was very important to us. You will always have a place at our table, and we will always have your back. In fact, a favor like this must be repaid. If there is anything you desire, any favor I can do for you, please, let me know.”
She blinked. “A favor?”
“That’s right.”
She thought about the silly potion she’d purchased to give her clarity, and of the wishes she’d had for finding out which man to pursue. She doubted Rafael could help with that—in fact, he seemed to only be complicating it, not that she would ever willingly date a mafia man. She’d had far too much excitement over the past two days to know that she didn’t like living life in that kind of fast lane.
Then, she thought of the clinic. Two months ago, she’d have loved to ask for the men’s brawn to help her fix the place up. But she’d made great strides with the clinic, and now she had Concetta to help. So she really didn’t need a favor where that was concerned, either.
Next, she thought about her house. While Audrey always complained about all the work and often envied Nessa for having scores of men to help with her renovation, she wasn’t sure she wanted a bunch of mafia people helping her with those tasks. Actually, she liked handling most of the stuff herself. Her father had always said that doing something on one’s own was the best way to feel pride of workmanship. And he was right. That was another reason why she hadn’t constantly been calling Mason over for help. She wanted it to be her home. Her work. Her blood, sweat, and tears. Her pride and joy.
So the only thing that left was . . . of course.
“Would you be able to find someone for me?” she blurted suddenly, as Marta set a steaming bowl of red soup in front of her. It smelled delicious, but Audrey was now caught up by the excitement of this potential favor.
Rafael smiled. “You intrigue me. Who is this someone?”
“My father,” she said softly. “But he’s been missing for over twenty years. The last I heard, he was in Montagna, but that was years ago. I don’t know if he’d even want to talk to me, but I do wonder where he is, and what he’s doing now. He’s my dad.”
She’d gone and gotten a little teary-eyed, at the thought of him, her voice faraway and weak. She recovered quickly and shrugged.
Rafael and Giuseppe looked at each other and nodded. Rafael said, “I do have some experience with that. I have resources I might be able to tap, to help you.”
“That would be absolutely amazing,” she said, dipping her spoon into the soup and taking a taste. “And wow. You are right, Rafael. This has to be the best minestrone on the planet!”
*
Four days later, Audrey buckled down and finished repairing the pits on the remaining three walls in the living area. It required waking up at four in the morning for the past two days, working until her fingers ached, but when she repaired the last divot, she stretched her hands over her head in her oversized denim overalls to release the sore muscles in her lower back, and smiled. Things are definitely coming along.
“Looks good, right Bub?” she asked Nick, who was busy chewing on a dog toy she’d given to him as a treat for helping catch Ricardo. Even though Ricardo hadn’t been the killer, Nick had gone above and beyond the call of duty.
However, as much as he cared to defend her, he really didn’t seem to care much about the state of the walls in the living room. She sighed. “You’re a tough customer to impress.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Mail call!” a voice shouted outside.
She grinned as she stared up at the perfectly smooth wall. Everything had been such a mess before, but just like her dad had told her, things were coming together, one by one. For the first ti
me in a long while, she felt relaxed. Content. And maybe she didn’t have all the answers about the men in her life, but she felt like eventually, they’d come, just like the other ones had.
She called, “In here, Mace!”
A second later, he appeared in the doorway, holding a pile of her mail. He looked around, inspecting her handiwork as Nick rushed up to him for a pet. “Looking good. Anyone ever tell you thatyou might have a future in plaster? Couldn’t have done it better, myself, Boston.”
“I know, turns out, I don’t need you for much,” she said, using some of the ego he was so fond of throwing at her.
“How about the faucet?”
“Oh! I fixed it myself,” she said with another casual shrug, even though the solution to that had been anything but easy. She’d spent a good three hours trying to get the right washer to fit in the right place, and finally stop the leak. It’d taken a couple of days, but the first floor of her house had finally dried out.
“I am shocked.”
So was she, actually. But as much as she appreciated help from others, she loved figuring things out herself. That was the reason she’d become a vet in the first place—she loved solving these little mysteries—whether it be in a little puppy, a broken faucet, or a murder in an orange grove.
“I’m going to head to the hardware store to pick out paint colors tonight, I think.”
“What color are you thinking of?”
“Blue,” she said immediately. “A pale, sky blue. What do you think?”
He inspected it closer. “Blue works.” He set her mail down on the top step. “So I heard the case of the murdered mafia guy was solved, huh? Did you have anything to do with that?”
“Me?” she said innocently. She thought about telling him of all the excitement with Ricardo and Marco and being held at gunpoint, so close to death, but decided not to. He was always telling her she needed to be more careful, and she didn’t need another lecture. “Why would you even think that from little ol’ me?”
He snickered. “I don’t know. Just a hunch. Because little ol’ you is a pain in the rump. The last time I saw you, you were kind of frantic, freaking out about how you found the body. Then you had that other guy show up on your doorstep. And, also, because you had a hand in finding all the other killers around here.”
“Oh.” Well, he was right about that. “But the truth is, I don’t think I want to associate with mafia. It’s not a good look for me. Business at the clinic took a big nosedive—half of the people thought I was a murderer, and half of them thought I was married to the mob. It’s finally coming back, thank goodness. I have a full day of appointments tomorrow. But I think I need to stay away from organized crime.”
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Even good-looking, charming mafia guys who show up at your place, bearing citrus?”
Her mouth opened. She’d forgotten he’d seen Rafael at her home, and Mason had seemed a little upset, then. Which was ridiculous. He had no reason to be. She and Rafael would never be more than just friends. “I’m sorry. Am I sensing jealousy?”
He shrugged. “Nothing to sense. I’m just making an observation. He was charming and he brought you fruit, and his face didn’t look too much like it’d been chewed up and spit out.”
She grinned at him. “You’re good-looking, charming, and bring me pie. I think you win.” When he laughed, she added, “And, I’m not so stupid as to date a guy who comes from a family of killers. In fact, like I said, from now on, I’m keeping my distance.”
He eyed her skeptically. “That’s the thing about organized crime. They call you, you’d better come, or hell hath no fury. You’ll be ruing the day you said no.”
She laughed and picked up Nick, stroking his fur. He took his pets and jumped quickly off her leg, disappearing out the window, a regular ninja. “Don’t be silly. They won’t call me! Rafael doesn’t have any pets, so he has no need for help from me.”
“You’re serious?”
She nodded. “Yes. No more trouble for me. I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime. And by the way, I don’t even like oranges, so help yourself.”
He glanced into the kitchen, at the huge basket of them, which had been relatively untouched since she received it. Nick had made a dent in them, but it was still a mountain that took up most of the little bistro table in the kitchen. “Maybe I will. But not right now. I need something more. Want to go out for a bite?”
She wiped the trowel on her pant leg and gnawed on her lip, averting his eyes by staring up at the wall. She knew that if she took one look into those blue eyes, she’d probably cave like a house of cards. And she’d decided not to get into this. Not now. Not until she was sure what she wanted and that no one would get hurt. “Well, I still have to clean all this mess up, and—”
“You did say you wanted to take a raincheck after your poor showing during our last date . . . remember?” He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. “’Cause I remember. I remember slaving all day to make you fried chicken and having you spend the whole time yawning and telling me you wanted to go home.”
She winced. “All day?”
“Well. Maybe not all day. But close.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I know, we do need to re-do that date, but I’m—” She looked down at her dirty overalls. Her hair was in a messy bun. But it wasn’t just that. She still hadn’t made much of a decision regarding G. So she shrugged. “Look at me. I look terrible.”
“You look pretty hot. I love overalls on chicks. It’s like my top fantasy,” he said with a grin. When she gave him a horrified look, he added, “Come on. It’s not a date, if you’re all worried about that. Just dinner. I didn’t eat either and I’m so hungry my stomach’s done think my throat’s been cut.”
She smiled at his little Southernism, then pulled her hair out of the tie, and scraped it together again. “All right, all right. Maybe we can stop by the hardware store, too, and you can help me pick out the blue?”
“You got it.”
As she went down the stairs to the kitchen, she scooped up the mail. Most of it was advertisements, postcards for new businesses in the area run by other expats who’d recently moved to the area. But as she leafed through them, discarding the junk mail in the trash, she came upon a large envelope, made of thick, creamy stock. It looked like the type of paper one would use for a wedding invitation, back in the States. There was no return address, but it was made out to a Dottore Audrey Smart.
She stared at it for a moment before sliding a finger under the flap and pulling out a piece of stiff cardstock. It was in Italian, but she translated as best she could:
You are cordially invited to a dinner party to be given by the Family Piccolo . . .
She stared at it so long, her retinas burned. Mason was clearly worried, because he said, “What? What is it? Are you okay?” He peered over her shoulder to catch sight of it and whistled. “Woo-wee. I’d say someone’s about to get her corn creamed.”
She had no clue what it meant to have one’s corn creamed, but her insides did feel like that—mushy and sick. Her appetite rushed away. A family gathering with the Piccolos? It sounded like the beginning of trouble.
And so much for staying out of the way of that.
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER!
A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY
(A Cats and Dogs Cozy Mystery—Book 6)
"Very entertaining. Highly recommended for the permanent library of any reader who appreciates a well-written mystery with twists and an intelligent plot. You will not be disappointed. Excellent way to spend a cold weekend!"
--Books and Movie Reviews (regarding Murder in the Manor)
A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY is book #6 in a charming new cozy mystery series by bestselling author Fiona Grace, author of Murder in the Manor, a #1 Bestseller with over 100 five-star reviews (and a free download)!
Audrey Smart, 34, has made a major life change, walking away from her life as a vet (and fro
m a string of failed romances) and moving to Sicily to buy a $1 home—and embark on a mandatory renovation she knows nothing about. She finds herself busy running the town’s new shelter, while also renovating her own problematic home—and dating again.
Audrey’s love life is heating up, and when his prominent Sicilian family invites Audrey to a family feast in Palermo, it’s an offer she can’t refuse. It’s everything she needs: new friends, a huge, new family, and food to die for.
But la dolce vita isn’t what it seems. When Audrey overhears word of a looming mafia vengeance hit, the only person pleading for the life of the innocent target is her. With just a few days to prove they have the wrong man, can Audrey assuage their anger and discover who really killed the mafiosi?
Finding herself in the middle of two rival mafia families, Audrey can’t help but wonder: is she in way over her head?
A laugh-out-loud cozy packed with mystery, intrigue, renovation, animals, food, wine—and of course, love—A VILLA IN SICILY will capture your heart and keep you glued to the very last page.
More books in the series will be available soon!
A VILLA IN SICILY: CANNOLI AND A CASUALTY
(A Cats and Dogs Cozy Mystery—Book 6)
Fiona Grace
Fiona Grace is author of the LACEY DOYLE COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books; of the TUSCAN VINEYARD COZY MYSTERY series, comprising seven books; of the DUBIOUS WITCH COZY MYSTERY series, comprising three books; of the BEACHFRONT BAKERY COZY MYSTERY series, comprising six books; and of the CATS AND DOGS COZY MYSTERY series, comprising nine books.
Fiona would love to hear from you, so please visit www.fionagraceauthor.com to receive free ebooks, hear the latest news, and stay in touch.