The Spia Family Branches Out

by Mary Leo

  “Look,” Lisa said, as we pulled into the parking lot. She nodded towards a row of cars parked along a wall, and sure enough there was the exact white Mustang.

  “Proof positive that Angelina was the shooter,” I said, feeling triumphant.

  “Maybe, but we can’t be sure that Mustang belongs to her until we actually see her behind the wheel.”

  That instantly killed my triumphant feeling. She was right. We had to be sure.

  “Well, we can’t wait around for that to happen,” I said. “Got any other ideas?”

  “We could ask her if that’s her car,” Lisa said as if that was even an option. I mean, why would she admit to trying to push us off the road?

  “As if she would tell us the truth.”

  “She might,” Lisa said while still watching the full parking lot in front of us.

  “If that’s her Mustang, then she must be in her room.” I decided that maybe Lisa was right. Why couldn’t we just ask her? After all, we could learn a lot about her from the way she answered.

  “Let’s go and find out,” she said, and drove deeper into the lot looking for a spot.

  “We don’t know anything for sure yet. Not even that she shot Giuseppe. It could have been someone else. Some bad guy who was sent here from Italy to take him out. An imported mobster that we’ve never met.”

  “Maybe, but let me play devil’s advocate for a moment. That ruby you found in the road makes a good case that it was Angelina. And the Mustang that ran us off the road is parked in the lot where Angelina is a guest. The Mustang that caused me to put a scratch in my brand new car,” Lisa groused.

  Lisa was a perfectionist, and hated when anything she owned wasn’t absolutely perfect. Even if there was a tiny chip or a rip or a smudge it drove her crazy and she had to have it immediately fixed or she would toss it. The four-thousand-dollar, feather and linen sofa in my apartment was a perfect example. She’d only owned it for two months when someone spilled red wine on the floor next to it. It splashed up on the upholstery and for some reason the three small drops didn’t want to budge, no matter what cleaning solution was applied. I eagerly took the “totally ruined” sofa off her hands and for the past two years, it has served me well. And at the moment it served as my bed, thank you very much.

  Although, sharing a bed with Giuseppe . . .

  I tossed that vision and focused instead on the Mustang, and just as we drove by it, the car came to life. Angelina . . . if it was Angelina behind the wheel. . . was getting ready to leave. Probably going to see her fiancé holed up in my apartment.

  And just as we drove past the Mustang, it came tearing out of the parking spot, horn blaring, and bright lights blinding us.

  “What the hell . . . look out!” I yelled, as Lisa floored it, barely avoiding a crash. As it was, the Mustang must have grazed our back fender as it sped away.

  Then the Mustang squealed out of the lot, turning left, towards the Spia orchard.

  “Whoever’s driving that car is certifiable,” Lisa said, as she pulled into a parking space, her breathing, heavy and deep, as if that really scared her. “If it is her, she couldn’t possibly have known it’s us in this rental. Is she crazy?”

  “Crazy in love,” I purred, trying to explain Angelina’s erratic behavior.

  I immediately called Giuseppe to warn him that she was probably on her way over, but he didn’t answer.

  I sent him a text instead of leaving a voice message, knowing perfectly well that no one, not even a gangster actually listened to their voice messages.

  “Now what?” Lisa asked as we sat there, in the silence of the parking lot, weighing our options. Two tall light poles, one on either end of the lot, kept it well illuminated so we could see all the other cars and trucks parked around us.

  “We search her room,” I said, without giving it much thought. “Hopefully, she didn’t wear her ruby necklace and we can match it up. That will prove she had something to do with Giuseppe’s shooting. We don’t need to see her in the Mustang. The ruby will be our proof.”

  “And what are we going to do with the information once we get it? Turn her over to the police for a crime no one called in?”

  “No, but maybe we can threaten her with our information so she’ll go back where she came from and stop trying to kill Giuseppe and me.”

  “And how are we supposed to get into her room?”

  I rolled my eyes as I turned to face her. “You know exactly how to get into her room. It’s an old inn. No key cards, just real keys. You can pick the lock. You’re a master at breaking and entering.”

  “That’s beside the point. Breaking and entering is illegal.”

  “Since when did that ever stop us?”

  She grinned. “Point taken. And once we learn the truth, maybe we should tell Giuseppe. He has a right to know that his fiancée tried to kill him.”

  “We definitely can’t tell Giuseppe if we don’t want to be responsible for Angelina’s untimely demise. Like most Made Men, Giuseppe wants his pound of flesh.”

  “Then what? Why do we need to know? I could be at home right now, writing. I have a book due.”

  “You always have a book due. We’re here. Angelina isn’t, so I’m going to search her room.” I swung open my door, then turned back to her. “I thought we were a team?”

  “Of three. Jade isn’t here. There’s safety in numbers.”

  “I didn’t tell her about this. Right now it’s just you and me, kid. Are you with me?”

  “It’s times like these when I wish my best friend was a normal, middle-class office worker or store clerk.” We grabbed our purses, and exited the car. Lisa beeped it locked as we headed for the ornate front door of Winestock Inn.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” I asked as we closed in on the front door of the inn.

  “At least it can’t get me killed.”

  “You wouldn’t be the bestselling author that you are without me. Why else would you be writing books on how to survive?”

  “I never thought of it that way. You might actually be right about that,” she said, smirking.

  “See, I’m good for you. Now, do you have your lock picking tools?”

  She stopped and stuck a hand to her hip. “Like I ever go anywhere if I’m not prepared. Preparation is the key to success in any endeavor.” Lisa said, obviously quoting from her books. I loved that my best friend was always prepared, because I certainly was not. We climbed the front porch stairs, and as soon as I opened the front door, all my lock picking plans abruptly changed.

  I had a much better idea.

  “You gotta love livin’, baby! Because dyin’ is a pain in the ass!”

  —Frank Sinatra

  TWELVE

  Elementary, My Dear Mia

  “Louie!” I yelled to the shaggy-haired guy standing behind the front desk, with his back to us. “I was hoping you’d be working tonight.”

  “You were?” Lisa whispered.

  “Go with me on this,” I told her, then I headed straight to Louie who came out from behind the desk. He immediately went in for a hug, a tight hug, one that made my skin crawl.

  “Hey babe, couldn’t stay away from your big daddy, right?”

  I slipped out of his embrace. “How could I resist?”

  He winked, then turned to Lisa. “And who is this little Asian spring roll?”

  “What?” Lisa growled. I kicked her shin. “What . . . have you been doing all my life, handsome?”

  “Waiting for you, baby,” he murmured, trying to sound sexy.

  Lisa raked a hand through her lush black hair, smiling at the tall, lanky lush. “Umm,” Lisa cooed as she took him in with her eyes, looking all hot and sexy. I was amazed at how she could turn it on for someone I knew didn’t do it for her on any level.

  “I get off of work in about an hour. There’s an empty room up on the third floor that’s just dying to be occupied,” Louie said, trying his best to sound sexy.

  A memory of his wet, drippy kis
ses suddenly flashed in my head and it took all my inner strength not to wince at the thought of ever kissing those razor thin lips of his. I couldn’t control the full body cringe that seemed to consume me.

  I took a breath and slowly let it out. “Speaking of the third floor, you have a guest staying here: Angelina Pisano. I think she’s in three-eleven.”

  “You know her? She’s a fox, but won’t even give me a smile. And believe me, I’ve been nothing but a gentlemen. If you know her, maybe you can invite her to our private little party.”

  “Actually, that’s why we’re here,” I told him. He was playing right into my hands. “Angelina wants to get to know you better, but she’s kind of shy.”

  “She doesn’t strike me as being shy. Just the opposite.”

  “That’s her outer persona. Actually, when it comes to matters of the bedroom, she’s a shy little kitten,” I told him, hoping in his addled brain he’d buy it.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and she told me how much she likes you and would love to get to know you better while she’s here visiting from Italy. She asked me if I could set it up . . . for us.”

  “The four of us,” Lisa added using a sultry voice.

  His eyes went wide. I could hear his little sleazy brain chugging along with the images. I wanted to shudder, but instead I kept up the pressure. “She wants us to set up her room while she’s out. We just chatted about it out in the parking lot.”

  A look of confusion saturated his porcelain white face. “Are you sure she left because I didn’t see her go past my desk.”

  “She must have left through the back door. Just walking by your desk turns her on and well, she’s simply too shy to be around you,” Lisa said, sounding coy.

  “So, can we get her room key? She should return in a bit, and we want to be ready.”

  “My parents would kill me if they knew I gave you her room key.”

  “We understand,” Lisa said, pouting, then slowly leaning over pretending to grab something on the floor, exposing some cleavage. I thought Louie’s eyes would pop out of their sunken sockets.

  “What my parents don’t know won’t kill them,” he said, slipping me the extra key that he took off a hook from behind him.

  “We’ll call you when we’re ready for you to come on up,” I purred as soon as I snatched the key out of his sweaty little hand.

  “I’ll be here waiting,” he said as we scurried to the staircase at the end of the lobby.

  “I think I need a bath,” I whispered once we’d ascended a flight.

  “I can’t believe you slept with him. He gives me the willies,” Lisa said.

  “Seeing him again only reaffirms my sobriety.”

  “Let’s get in and out of here as fast as we can. I don’t want him showing up expecting anything. No telling what he might do when he can’t get it.”

  “He’s harmless . . . at least I think he’s harmless.”

  “I thought you couldn’t remember anything from that night you spent with him.”

  “I can’t. That’s why I think he’s harmless. I don’t truly believe we had sex. There were no physical signs that we’d had.”

  “Than what makes you believe that you did?”

  I thought about her question as we walked up the stairs side-by-side, my mind wandering on the lush floral carpet, and the smooth white railing. The inn was actually a lovely Victorian home dating back at least a hundred and twenty years, decorated in lush colors, textures and furniture of its time, a cozy retreat that promised a comfortable stay to its guests.

  As I ruminated on the luxury of the inn, I realized that Lisa might in fact be right.

  “He told me we did . . . God, you mean all this time I’ve been thinking I had sex with that jerk and I never did?”

  “From what you’re saying, yes, that’s completely possible.”

  I suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from my tight chest. For years I’d thought I had sex with Louie and I’d been so drunk I couldn’t remember. I hated even thinking I’d ever been that drunk. “Thank you!” When we got to the top of the stairs, I gave her a hug. “I can now go on with my life.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “It was a dark time in my life. One where I only believed the worst about myself.”

  “We should’ve talked more.”

  “You were busy being normal.”

  “Still, I should have reached out more.”

  “I wouldn’t have grabbed on. I was addicted to my demise.”

  “And now?”

  “You shouldn’t ask me that question when we’re about to break into someone’s room.”

  “We’re not breaking in. We have the key.”

  “Silly me, and I thought we were doing something wrong.”

  “Louie’s the one who did something wrong. He gave us the key. It’s payback for letting you believe he had sex with you when he didn’t.”

  “I love how you think.”

  With one more dark stain removed from my sordid past, and a new bounce to my step, we located Angelina’s room at the top of the stairs to our right. Her door, a robin-egg-blue, six-paneled classic, harbored a lock that begged for the long skeleton type key Louie had given us. A Do Not Disturb sign hung from the brass doorknob.

  Lisa knocked first to be sure Angelina was indeed not in her room. It seemed curious that she would put the sign on the door, and then leave. But maybe it had been hanging there all day so the maid wouldn’t bother her. Either way, it was curious.

  When no one answered I unlocked the door and we strolled inside. At once the strong smell of ammonia hit me between the eyes, causing my eyes to water.

  “What the hell kind of cleaning agents do they use in this inn?” I said, while holding my hand over my nose and mouth.

  “That’s way too strong for just a cleaning fluid,” Lisa warned, coming up behind me. We left the door open, hoping the smell would dissipate. “Don’t inhale too deeply until I open some windows. It might be a Freon leak from one of those mini-fridges.”

  The room was dark except for the light coming from the open doorway. Lisa immediately walked over to the bank of the windows at the far end of the room, and opened all three of them, letting in both light from the parking lot lights and fresh air. A cool breeze flooded the room washing away some of the heavy stench.

  I closed the door and turned on a couple of the table lamps on either side of the large sofa, then found the switch for the crystal chandelier which hung from the middle of the ceiling. The room was absolutely stunning, with its deep, rich color scheme of gold, burgundy, and forest green. Each window had been elegantly draped with thick, patterned curtains that picked up the colors of the plush sofa and ornately carved Victorian type chairs. A colorful rug lay under my feet, with dark, polished wood flooring peeking out of all four edges. The same type of wood surrounded the hearth, and created a deep mantel decorated with leather-bound books and battery-operated candles. A lovely painting hung above the mantel depicting two young women, dressed in their Victorian era finest, ambling through a floral grove.

  I’d had no idea the Lucernes ran such an exquisite inn. I’d never been in any of their rooms . . . at least not so that I could remember.

  Other than the laptop that sat on the small wooden desk in front of the bank of windows, the pair of discarded heels Angelina had worn when she’d visited Giuseppe in my apartment, and an open bottle of red wine on the coffee table, along with two glasses, the room seemed untouched.

  I went over and took a closer look at the wine bottle, curious to see which Valley wine Angelina had chosen to entertain with. I figured it had to be one of the award-winning wines from some of Sonoma’s more famous wineries. I was shocked to learn it was one of Leo’s Cabs. A good table wine, but not as good as some of the Russo family’s award-winning wines, and most certainly not a wine someone like Angelina would be sharing with a guest. I wondered why she’d settled for a Cab in a place where amazing wines were in abundance at e
very turn.

  Unless her guest brought the wine . . . which could account for the commonality of the type of varietal blend. But who was her visitor?

  Just as I was about to move on to another part of the room, I noticed a tiny pink something stuck to the corner of the Russo label, as if it had been stuck there on purpose, or had it been part of something bigger? I thought perhaps it was a shred of the price tag for the wine, but still it seemed odd.

  A smear of bright red lipstick was on the rim of the glass, and a residue of wine still remained on the bottom of one of the glasses, while the other glass contained a generous pour, and appeared untouched. Whoever Angelina had been entertaining, never drank their wine.

  “What’s in here?” Lisa asked as she grabbed hold of a glass doorknob on the other inside door in the room.

  “It has to be the bedroom,” I said, feeling a little woozy from the smell that had all but dissipated.

  She flung the door open and once again the stink of ammonia burned my eyes. This time it seemed even stronger.

  “I think this is where it’s coming from,” Lisa said. “There must be a mini-fridge in here with a bad leak.”

  She walked over to the bank of windows and flung them wide open, flooding the room with both light and fresh air, while I dealt with my stinging eyes and the tickle in my throat. I wanted no part of this room. I backed away, waiting for the stench to dissipate before I would enter.

  I padded over to the desk to check out Angelina’s laptop, hoping that it wasn’t locked with a password, and perhaps I could see what she’d been working on. Just as I carefully opened the laptop, I heard Lisa groan, then mutter a string of no’s.

  Obviously something was terribly wrong.

  “Mia,” Lisa’s voice echoed through the rooms, sounding shaky as hell, almost tearful. My stomach immediately clenched as she cleared her throat. “You might want to come in here.”

  I stood, and began coughing so hard I thought my throat might close. It was already raw from the gas, and this just made it more irritated. I needed to get out of this room. Not only was it ripping my insides apart it was now making me sleepy. No wonder Angelina left in such a hurry. Her throat and mind were on fire.