She slumped onto the couch as soon as they got up to her apartment. The stairs were brutal in dress shoes, and he was surprised how handily she travelled them with her heels, as tired as she appeared now. He stopped by her fridge, wanting to care for her a little in the way she so ably took care of him. “Your choices are beer and…” he looked further into the fridge, “uh, beer, apparently.” He had never known a woman in his life whose refrigerator wasn’t ready for dinner for four at a moment’s notice. It was startling, to say the least.
Nahia summoned him over with a wave of her hand. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll hit the grocery tonight. Sit with me. Please.” She had toed off her shoes and sat snuggled into the corner of the couch with her stocking-covered feet crossed and propped up on the coffee table and her hands behind her head.
He slid onto the cushion and leaned against her, his head on her shoulder, and her fingernails tracing a soothing pattern on his scalp. They lay there curled up on the couch for a while, the quiet soaking into them and purging the noise and mayhem of the earlier day.
Heaving a great sigh, Nico sat up and hoisted himself to his feet, offering her a hand. “C’mon, Nye, let’s go change back into our people clothes.”
A lazy smile stretched over her lips as she took his hand and stood. “Sounds perfect.”
After changing out of their bleak attire, they ran some errands and bought groceries. It was very domesticated. She had especially loved it when he said he owed her dinner from the other night and volunteered to cook for her. There were no complaints at all from her, and she sat at the breakfast bar with her sexy little Irish Fest t-shirt that showed a generous amount of cleavage when she leaned over, and her silver reading glasses.
Nahia had the letters out of the box again, poring over them like they were the treasure map to the lost city of Atlantis. One in her hand, some opened and next to her, and still a collection in the box, her attention was rapt on the work in front of her.
After hearing a sniffle for the third time in as many minutes while chopping veggies, he inquired, “You okay there?” knowing full well that her tender heart was as affected by the letters as he’d been.
Nodding stiffly, she dug in her pocket for a tissue, only putting the letter down to lift her glasses and dab her eyes. “I figured out the murals. He was born in Italy, Thea in England, and they met and fell in love in Paris. It’s just so sad, babe. She lost her mother and the love of her life within a week of each other.”
He hummed in agreement and looked back down at his knifework, lest he come up short a finger in the course of making their dinner. “From what I could tell, they had no children, either.”
Nahia nodded and sighed deeply. “Yeah, Thea talks about some kind of ‘injury’ Aurelio suffered. She doesn’t really go into specifics, except to lament the lack of kids. She asks about the McManus kids, though, seems like that was an affectionate relationship, if a little wistful. She alludes to something going on with the kids and their mother, but never says what it is outright. What the hell would the mother have going on that the kids would be involved?” She sniffed again as she folded up the letters and began to reorganize them. “Yet another part of this tragedy. Why do you think McManus killed the kids?”
He spared a glance up to find her nibbling on the silvery earpiece of her reading glasses, staring at him intently, eyes focused on a spot just over his left shoulder. Watching the way her lips worried that piece of plastic was damn engrossing. “You really wanna know?” He’d had some suspicions when he’d read the stories, ideas and inklings his years as a cop had supplied, but it was one thing to think them and another entirely to share with the uninitiated.
Her dark eyes blinked and came to rest on him, heavy with curiosity and solely focused now. “I learned a long time ago not to ask questions if I wasn’t prepared for the answers. I think we’re past preparing for the answers.”
His lips twitched as he suppressed a laugh. Her toughness showed in little ways, but it was always there, lurking in the background of an otherwise distinctly sunny disposition. Nico lay the chef’s knife on the cutting board and wiped his hands on the towel he’d had draped over his shoulder. Her gaze was unwavering as he came around the counter to join her on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Okay, so here’s the thing.” He took her hand in both of his, enjoying the softness of her skin in contrast to the unpleasantness of the conversational topic. “There are a few reasons people do things like that. One is sheer meanness, to spite the surviving partner.”
She snorted. “That presumes there is a surviving partner.”
He nodded, appreciating her quick mind. “It does, which is not the case here. Another reason is to hide a sin, some secret he can’t risk getting out under any circumstances.” He’d seen people do evil and unspeakable things to each other in the name of protecting a secret, and not just on his Nonna’s soaps.
Nahia’s dark eyes narrowed in confusion and she hooked her glasses over the collar of her shirt, making her chest distractingly sparkly. “What the hell kind of secret would involve the kids?”
He shrugged and pulled a hand down his face, in truth he’d been hoping not to have to get this far into the subject. “His infidelity, hers, the parentage of the kids, to name a few.”
Nahia winced, and leaned back on the stool, physically recoiling from his suggestions. “Jesus,” she hissed. “Well, how the hell is Aurelio involved?”
Nico kissed her hand and got up to go back to the kitchen and continue his culinary masterpiece. “I do not know.” Even as he said the words, his mind was spitting out thoughts and speculations he didn’t want to share. He really didn’t want to think about the gardener and the lady of the house getting it on, but it was definitely within the realm of possibility.
She watched him for a moment, and then replaced the letters in the box before leaving the room.
When she came back with her laptop and fired it up, he knew she meant business. “Whatcha doin?” He slid the veggies from the cutting board into the sauce he was making, turning up the heat. Crossing his arms, he watched her from his side of the breakfast bar.
“Thinking.” She didn’t look up at him and was completely focused on whatever was in front of her, completely illegible in the reflection of her tiny glasses.
“About anything in particular?” He tossed a dishtowel over his shoulder again and leaned on the counter, pushing the computer to the side with a single finger until her eyes connected with his.
She grinned slightly as she slid the computer back to its previous location. “I have a lot of different angles on this going around in my brain.”
Her eyes went back to the screen and he stepped away to grab the sausages he’d picked up from the butcher at the grocery store from the fridge. “As far as Aurelio? As far as McManus? As far as what you’re going to do about the letters? What?”
“All related.” He could hear her clicking away at the keyboard vigorously as she spoke. “I’m thinking if he wants justice for his wife, I want to know about her. I think the only reason she lived past that day was because she was out of the country. I also think the strain of losing both her mother and her husband might have been more than she could handle, given the fragile emotional state I get from her letters. So I wanna poke around a bit.”
Sound logic, definitely. The way her mind worked impressed him, and that wasn’t something that happened often. “And if she’s still alive?”
“Hell.” She chuckled and folded the screen down on her laptop. “I got no idea. I’d say I want to talk to her, but what the hell do I say? ‘I’ve been talking to your dead husband’ seems a bit crass? Off-putting maybe?”
Nico had to put down the spatula he was using so he didn’t flip the sausage all over her kitchen while laughing. “Yeah. Yeah, I could see that going badly. On a few different levels.” He put the pasta on to boil after tasting the sauce. “And if she’s dead?”
She blew out a breath and climbed off the stool. “Then I guess we’ll
deal with that when we come to it.” Moving into the kitchen, she got out plates and silverware, even stooping to pull a colander out of the cabinet next to the oven and putting it into the sink.
Her use of the word ‘we’ was comical, because he knew she meant her and him, but he was kinda hoping Nigel would step in for this part. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna do to set him free?” He drained the pasta and rinsed it as he asked.
“Mmm.” It was a noncommittal hum, but for some reason it set his nerves on edge. She finished the place settings and grabbed a couple beers before retaking her seat.
He dished up the pasta and sat down across from her, clinking his bottle against hers before digging into his plate. Her wide eyes and almost moan of pleasure at the first bite told him he’d succeeded in this portion of his plan to woo her, fighting the war one front at a time. “So is that a good ‘hmm’ or a bad ‘hmm’?”
She finished chewing, gesturing with her fork for him to give her a minute and then wiped her mouth daintily with a napkin. Damn, but she was adorable. “The food’s amazing. Thank you, really. You didn’t have to cook.”
He smiled at her compliment, and her deft avoidance of his question. “You’re very welcome. I love to cook. You’ve met the family. I’m sure you can see why.” He twirled his spaghetti around his fork, watching her from under his lashes. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you going to do about Aurelio?”
Nahia picked up her fork and began to systematically decimate the sausage link on her plate, mixing it in with the mushrooms and sauce there. She stabbed a piece and held it up as she answered, “I have an idea about that, actually, but I have to talk to some people first.” The food was in her mouth before she could say anything else.
Now it was his turn to hum noncommittally. Her lack of elaboration concerned him, especially with talk of other people. In his mind, he could see this going very, very badly, and given his previous experience, he didn’t even want to imagine what badly looked like. “Babe,” he reached out and took her hand in his, “no offense, but that’s not terribly comforting.”
She simply lifted his hand and kissed his fingers before resuming eating. “Trust me.”
He knew he’d follow her through the gates of Hell if she just wanted to do a day trip. Whatever happened, he’d be there with her, because that’s where he knew he belonged: with her. “I’ll take ‘Famous Last Words’ for $300, Alex,” he murmured, and she giggled. It must be love, because he was clearly crazy.
Though it was hard to leave Nico asleep in her bed, Nahia was at the store bright and early. It felt good to be getting back to normal, such as it was. As she went through her morning routine of showering and braiding her hair, she watched him slowly stake his claim on the rest of her bed. He looked so peaceful in his slumber, and he’d had a rough few days, so she wrote him a note and taped a surprise to her bedroom door before she left rather than waking him.
It seemed normal was changing in front of her, and she was actually okay with it. Nico was becoming a permanent fixture in her life, like breathing, and just as important. The smoothness of the transition from singleness to coupledom was the only thing that startled her, but then, nothing about them had been ordinary since their meeting.
It was rare lately that she’d gotten into the store extra early, at least since she’d met Nico, but she wanted to do something nice to thank her friend for taking care of the store in her absence. She had hot water on to make tea before Mags even arrived. Her friend eyed her warily as she came behind the counter, taking her time making her morning beverage, sniffing the box, the cup, the teapot, and her tea ball.
“What did you do?” she demanded as she stood in the back room dipping her tea ball to let it steep. Her hair was unusually spiky with white tips, and her attire was extra bohemian with a peasant blouse and belly dancer belt over a fuchsia broomstick skirt over a tinkly bell anklet and sandals.
“Why do I have to have done something?” Nahia paused as she thought about her phrasing and then shook it off. “Maybe I just wanted to do something nice for you. To thank you for looking after the place yesterday.” She sipped her coffee from a stainless steel mug she’d brought from home and smoothed a hand down the front of her plain black tank top.
The redhead nodded. “And the day before.”
“And the day before,” she agreed with a shrug, “but who’s counting?”
She saw her friend reach over and touch the teapot, her eyes narrowing. “Uh huh.”
“‘Uh huh’ what?” The scrutiny of a psychic was a dangerous, dangerous thing. Was it too late to get a lawyer? She should probably have rested on her right to remain silent, though in this case, that probably wouldn’t have done much.
Walking as deliberately as she could in her tiny jeweled flip flops, Mags sipped with one hand and held up the pointy finger of indictment with the other. “You cut me a break on the rent when I help out, you always have. So why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind, because the teapot is throwing out some pretty strong accusations.”
Hell and damnation. She knew better than to touch Mags’s stuff for just this reason. “Well, first of all, you were right.” Before her friend could gloat, she countered her friend’s indictment with her own. “You knew I was going to start seeing ghosts, didn’t you? That the clairvoyant thing was going to kick in full force right after the damn wake, didn’t you?”
The tiny woman hopped up on the stool and crossed her legs primly like a lady having high tea, accompanied by delicately jingling music. “You wouldn’t have believed me if I told you, so I figured you’d be okay if you found out on your own.”
Nahia snorted and got up from her own stool to walk to the front of the store and open it for business. “I see. And you knew I’d meet his family, including some of the deceased ones?”
Mags nodded with a smirk, but didn’t speak.
“You didn’t think this was information I might have found useful?” She didn’t mean to raise her voice, but her experiences the past couple days had left her at a bit of a loss for controlling her emotions.
The redhead watched her for only a moment longer before bursting into a torrent of laughter. Completely tickled, unfettered laughter that only served to annoy Nahia further. Mags waved her over and took her hand when she had a seat.
It took a moment for her to speak around the giggle still leaking out every once in a while. “It’ll get better, you’ll get used to it.”
“Good God, I hope not. Is there a return line for a gift like this?” She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but talking to ghosts was really where she drew the line. It was one thing to try and take their picture; it was something else entirely when they were giving her to-do lists.
“’Fraid not, sweetie.” Mags sat back on her stool and sipped her tea with a speculative look in her eye. “I do, however, have useful information for you.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.” She eschewed the stool for pacing, because the idea that this could possibly get worse loomed large in her mind depending on her friend’s otherworldly info.
“She’s dead, but then, you suspected as much.”
The deadpan delivery brought Nahia up short, and she snorted in amusement. Her friend was not known for her soft touch, despite the foofy clothing choices, and knowing Aurelio’s wife, Thea, was dead was one more piece of the puzzle solved. “Seemed reasonable, given Aurelio’s request.”
“And she never believed the accusations.”
There was that word again! “What accusations? I have half of a conversation between a woman tending to her dying mother and her husband who would be dead sooner rather than later. I never read or saw anything about accusations.”
Mags nodded encouragingly. “What’d the letters talk about?”
“Her mother, her life in England, the kids?” Each topic was posed as a question, since she could tell her friend was trying to lead her to a conclusion that she’d apparently overlooked.
�
��What about the kids?”
“Were they happy. Were they healthy. Was whatever was going on with their mother affecting them.” At the pixie’s hand gesture to continue, Nahia threw her hands up in frustration. “What? That’s it! What am I missing?”
Sighing in exasperation, her friend sipped her tea. “Whose kids are they?”
Nahia could feel her brows draw down in confusion. “I just said, Mrs. McManus and oh!” Oh hell, it had been in front of her all along! “And not Donnell.”
“There we go!” Mags nodded approvingly. “They weren’t Aurelio’s either, for the record.”
She shook her head. That much she knew. “Of course not. Still, that explains a great deal about the situation and their deaths.” She frowned as she looked over the big picture now that the gaping holes were filled in. “Why would McManus think they were, though?”
Her tiny shoulder lifted in a delicate shrug. “That much I wasn’t told. I can ask, if you want, but it’s pretty immaterial to the whole ‘killed for no damn reason’ situation, don’t you think?”
Her friend had a point. “True enough. It’s horrible, though, that Thea had to go through both the loss of her mother and her husband alone. I feel so bad for her.”
Mags set her cup down on the counter with a serious look on her face. “So long as he’s trapped here, she’s still alone.”
Damn, that hadn’t even occurred to her, which only made the situation that much sadder. She sank down onto the stool. “Which leads me to my next question: how in the actual hell do I set him free?”
The tiny woman snickered at her own private joke as she began to paw through her large satchel. “You remember the conversation we had about the renovations to the mansion?”
Nahia nodded, but wasn’t following. “Yeah? And you said I needed to fix that situation before it came to a head, right? Deal with him on my terms.”
Dead and Disorderly (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 2) Page 19