Lacey Luzzi: Spiced: a humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 8)

by Gina LaManna

  “You were talking about the pizza!” I threw a tiny little sausage at him. “I can’t believe you. For a second there, I almost thought you were being romantic.”

  Anthony reacted quickly, opening his mouth and catching the sausage before winking. “I said both!”

  I laughed as he pushed the tray down to the bottom of the bed, leaned over, and planted a kiss right on my lips. And then he didn’t stop kissing, and kissing, and kissing, until…

  Ding, dong.

  We broke apart. While I felt the disappointment on the inside, Anthony showed it on the outside with a puppy-dog sort of frown.

  “Stay right there.” I held out a finger as I climbed out of bed. I ran into the master bath, washed my hands free of pizza grease, and then spotted the big, plush bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. It was an upgrade from the one I’d worn earlier, which I’d “borrowed” from the guest bedroom. I slipped into it, taking a moment to enjoy the hug of fuzziness.

  Until the doorbell rang again.

  “Coming!” Scurrying out of the bathroom, I tied the robe around my body and skidded into the kitchen. “Who is it?”

  “Open up, chickadee!”

  “Anthony, you might want to put some clothes on,” I shouted. “Meg’s back.”

  “Whyyy?” he moaned, clicking the bedroom lock into place. Another click followed as Anthony double-checked the lock. Then I heard the television turn on, very loudly, and I was willing to bet I wouldn’t see him or that pizza for a long time.

  “Hi,” I opened the door to find my best friend of many, many years standing on the front porch. Again. “You’re back?”

  “You changed your robe. May I come in?” A former cop and current bar owner, Meg had a confidence about her that made a simple request sound more like an order. “It’s a long walk from the estate, and it is cold.”

  “Make yourself at home. Shoes off, please.” Scanning the front lawn, I shut the door slowly. I still hadn’t gotten used to waking up in a house surrounded by miles of still, beautiful land stretching in every direction. In the distance, I could just see Carlos and Nora’s estate over the plain of sparkling white snow.

  We were deep in the throes of a long, dreary Minnesota winter. February tended to be the most tedious month; the cold persisted, the slush turned gray, and the stir-craziness ran high. But there were still glimmers of beauty. Last night it had snowed a fresh batch of large, fluffy flakes perfect for snowman-making. Since I didn’t have an assignment, or really a job of any sort right now, maybe I would go make a snowman. Heck, maybe I’d make an entire snow family.

  “Pretty out there, huh?” Meg asked.

  I turned around, not realizing how much time had passed. In the few seconds I’d been staring outside, Meg had somehow shed all layers of winter: coat, hat, mittens, snow pants – and she’d situated herself comfortably on the couch. Her forehead was steaming like a tea kettle from the long walk between the estate and here, but other than that, the signs she’d just stumbled in from the wild outdoors had vanished.

  “How do you do that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You lost a lot of clothes in a very short period of time.”

  Meg shrugged. “Practice. You should try it. I bet Anthony would appreciate it.”

  I scrunched my nose. “We have to revise how you talk about taking off your clothes now that you’re dating my cousin. I don’t need all that information.”

  “We’re not dating.”

  “What are you, then?”

  Meg paused, a flash of uncertainty crossing her face. “Getting to know each other.”

  I left it alone. “So what brings you my way today, besides a hair dryer?”

  “Can’t I just come say hi to my best buddy?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. “Would you like a cup of hot chocolate or something?”

  “That would be the bee’s knees. Except for one thing.”

  I headed to the kitchen and started to boil water. “What one thing?”

  “You have got to start clarifying what you mean by hot chocolate.” Meg paused, stretching on the black leather sectional. She flaunted her “womanly” figure – her words, not mine – with a tight, woolly pair of long underwear covered in reindeer, and a turtleneck that had no sleeves attached. If I wanted to say something nice, I’d call her style bold.

  “What do you mean clarify? It’s hot and it’s chocolate.”

  “Well, the way you make hot chocolate, it’s more like you make a bowl of marshmallows and drizzle a teensy squirt of chocolate on top. I mean, I like it. But not all people are as open-minded about their hot chocolate as I am.”

  “Then they can make it themselves,” I grumbled, opening the cupboard and removing all of the hot cocoa supplies. “How was your weekend?”

  I’d hung out with Meg at her bar Saturday night. Since it was Monday morning, we’d only been apart for one day. However, we’d grown up with each other, and one day was still a long time apart. The two of us were as close as sisters. Sometimes, even closer. Most of the time, too close. Regardless, we’d always seen a lot of each other, which was why this transition to only seeing each other five times a week was a difficult one.

  I carried two cups of hot cocoa out from the kitchen on a serving tray. A real, live serving tray. The closest I’d ever come to owning a serving tray – prior to this moment in my life – had been the time I’d brought Clay breakfast in bed using an old motherboard from one of his computers. He hadn’t appreciated the gesture. Maybe because I’d accidentally “frosted” his power switch.

  “So, have you committed to the underwear drawer, yet?” Meg took a sip of hot chocolate, closing her eyes and letting out some disturbing moans of appreciation before she fixed me with a piercing gaze. “Hm?”

  “No!” I hesitated, looking towards my bare feet, the borrowed shorts, and the stolen T-shirt before responding. “I’m not really living here, and that means no underwear drawer.”

  “You spend more nights here than not.”

  “That’s only sometimes true.”

  The situation was complicated. Just before the holiday season, Anthony had been secretly renovating the old barn he’d called home. Then Christmas rolled around, and after returning from an assignment out in Hollywood, Anthony had “unveiled” it to me on Christmas Eve. We’d spent the night in his new home then, and almost every night since. Now, I only stopped by my apartment to retrieve new underwear from time to time and throw away expired food in my fridge.

  The problem had started small, then grown larger with the passing of time. Mostly because I was a chicken. Initially, Anthony had insinuated that we could live here together. However, that first night we’d been too busy getting used to the bedroom to discuss actual logistics, and the next morning had been Christmas Day – a time fueled by food, wine, and sledding.

  Since then, he hadn’t initiated the whole “move-all-your-things-in” conversation, and neither had I. As I didn’t feel comfortable showing up in a U-Haul filled to bursting with my dresser, boxes, and coffee mugs without an invitation, I stuck to the whole “stash-underwear-in-my-purse” method and avoided any whiffs of serious conversation like a champ. Our relationship was going well, and I didn’t want to ruin anything.

  “Why don’t you just ask?” Meg shrugged. “He said he wanted you here. I’m sure he’d be happy about it.”

  “Maybe, but we’re happy to take things slow.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re just pretending to take things slow.”

  Just last week, I’d tested the limits by leaving a box of tampons in the very back of the bathroom cupboard, behind six rolls of toilet paper and inside of a plastic Target bag. Since Anthony hadn’t commented, I considered the test a success.

  “This is not the place to have this conversation,” I whispered, sliding onto the couch next to her. “Anthony’s in the next room.”

  “With the TV volume turned so loud Nora can hear it.”

  “Well, he was going to come out and say hi, b
ut…” I couldn’t think fast enough to come up with an excuse, so Meg helped me out.

  “But he wasn’t dressed?” she suggested.

  “Exactly.” Relief shot through me. “He wasn’t dressed.”

  “He could’ve still come out here, I don’t judge based on nudity.”

  “We all know that, Meg.” I patted her outstretched leg, which was pressed up against my body. “So, what brings you around this time?”

  “Carlos was looking for you.”

  Frowning, I sat back against the couch. “What?”

  “Your grandfather. The man in the big house. The mean one. The one who has skinny legs and nice-looking hair. The one—”

  “I know who Carlos is, I’m just curious as to why he sent you instead of calling me himself.”

  “Oh, he didn’t send me.” Meg said, looking down at her fingernails. “He called your apartment landline. You weren’t there.”

  “But you were?”

  Meg grinned. “Yeah. Dropping off those tools you sent my way. I figured I’d stash them in your closet in case Clay asks me out last minute. That way, I’ll be prepared.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Were you there with Clay?”

  “Yeah.” Her grin widened.

  “And you’re going in my room?”

  Meg started working more furiously on her nails, her grin disappearing. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You just did! Meg, I still live there. You can’t have my room.” Shifting into a more comfortable position on the couch was difficult due to Meg’s close proximity. “But anyway, carry on. You said Carlos called?”

  She nodded. “He asked for you, but I said you weren’t there. So I told him I’d come get you.”

  “Uh-huh.” I gave a wary nod. “Why?”

  “Can’t a girl do a favor for her friend?”

  “I have a cell phone. With a working number. You could have called me.”

  “Yeah, I thought it’d be more fun to swing by…again.”

  “Is there a catch?”

  “You forgot?”

  My mind racing, I flicked through one memory after the next, trying to figure out what I’d forgotten. “I forgot…?”

  “You forgot.”

  “Forgot? Of course not…” I trailed off, stalling for time. “I totally remember that today we were going to, uh, do that one thing where—”

  Meg sighed. “Okay, well technically we didn’t have plans. But I was hoping we could make some.”

  “What sort of plans?” Wiping sweaty palms on my bathrobe, I exhaled in relief.

  “The fun sort of plans. But you can say no if you want.”

  “Nothing good ever follows when a sentence starts like that.”

  “I’m working on being thoughtful, okay? Clay says I need to work on thinking before I talk.” Pursing her lips, Meg stared at the ceiling. “I’d never thought about it before, but I like it. You should try it sometime, that whole thinking business.”

  “I try it all the time.”

  Meg frowned. “But sometimes it doesn’t work?”

  I crossed my arms. “It works. I think before I talk all the time.”

  “Well, ain’t that something.” Meg surveyed me out of the corner of her eye. “Anyway, I was wondering if you were ready to show me your present?”

  “Oh, right!” I slapped a hand to my forehead. “I forgot this morning when you surprised me. Let me grab it.”

  Hustling to the bedroom, I removed a bobby pin from my hair and picked the lock on the door. One might think that a professional mobster would keep secure locks around the house, but that was not the case. Either that, or Anthony hadn’t experienced the power of bobby pins.

  Moving into the bedroom, I retrieved the Christmas gift my newfound father had left for me just over a month ago on the doorstep. I’d already opened it, but at Anthony’s urging, I’d kept quiet about it for a few weeks. The gift was something my father had saved for almost thirty years; something from my mother. I wanted some time alone with it before letting her secrets out into the world.

  In the bedroom, Anthony lay sprawled across the mattress in his briefs, watching something in a different language on the television. He glanced up as I swept into the room and shook a finger at him.

  His eyes widened in fear. “You can’t hide out in here, too. You’ll compromise my bunker.”

  “The bed isn’t a bunker.” I stood up, the gift in hand, and glanced over at the television. “Can you understand that?”

  Anthony’s eyes flicked towards the screen. It was no station I’d ever seen before, and to my un-worldly ears, it sounded like the people on it were switching between Italian, Russian, and Pig Latin like it was their job. He shrugged. “Enough.”

  “Is it a secret TV channel?”

  “What are you doing with that?” Anthony ignored my question, nodding pointedly at the notebook. “Are you going to show it to Meg?”

  I nodded. “She knew my mom, too, and I want her to see it.”

  Anthony lay back on the pillow. “Have fun. Also, I need to head up to the estate in twenty minutes. Do you think you can wrap up before then?”

  “You want me to kick Meg out so you can walk through the living room in peace?”

  Anthony waited a beat. “Yes.”

  “No.” I smiled sweetly. “We’re a package deal.”

  “She checks me out. I don’t like being checked out in my own home, unless you’re doing the checking.”

  “She does not.”

  “Does too. I can feel her eyes on my ass, and I don’t like it.”

  “Well, now that she’s almost dating Clay, maybe she’s toned it down a bit. You wouldn’t know, since you’ve practically avoided her for a month.”

  “She can be a bit much.” Anthony sighed. “And she doesn’t like me.”

  I strolled over to the bed. “Is that what this is all about? You’re worried she doesn’t like you?”

  “I’m not worried.”

  I ran a hand over Anthony’s forehead, pushing back his hair. “Let’s go on a double date. You and me, Meg and Clay.”

  Anthony shot up, pushing my hand away. “No!”

  “It’ll be good for everyone! Plus, we’ll be helping Meg and Clay get used to each other.”

  “They should get used to each other in private.”

  “If you agree to a double date, I’ll agree to wrap things up in twenty minutes today.” I walked over to the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. I looked over my shoulder at Anthony’s contorted expression. “Do we have a deal?”

  “I get to pick the restaurant.”

  I grinned. “Deal.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “We’ve got twenty minutes,” I said, plopping next to Meg on the couch. “Then I gotta get going.”

  “That’d be a good idea,” Meg said. “Since Carlos said he wants to see you before one.”

  I looked at the clock over the stove. “It’s twelve forty five, Meg. When were you planning on telling me that?”

  “Fifteen minutes and counting, no time to waste. Let’s see the goods.” Reaching across my lap, Meg stretched her fingers towards the small, leather-bound notebook. However, before she touched the cover, she paused. “I pressured you to show me this. It doesn’t feel right; if you don’t want to share it, you don’t have to.”

  “You pressure me to do a lot of things.” I pressed the notebook into her hands. “This is no different.”

  “But this is…this is private. Normally I pressure you to do fun things, like play Jenga or visit me at the bar. If you really want to keep this private, I won’t be mad at you.”

  I shook my head. “I would prefer to share it with you.”

  “Really?” Meg’s expression was bright and hopeful, and it struck me that ever since Christmas, she seemed a bit softer around the edges. Gentler. Less abrasive, maybe.

  Maybe Clay was having too much of an effect on her. I loved Meg in any form, but I was used to her brash boldness. It was part of her charm.
This new, almost thoughtful Meg took some getting used to, which had me wondering if I needed to have a talk with Clay. We couldn’t have Meg turning so soft she melted into a puddle of goo.

  “Really.” Pressing the notebook into her hands, I smiled. “It’ll be way more fun for you to read it, too.”

  “If you’re sure.” Meg snatched the book up like the last French fry in a happy meal. “You know I can’t resist fun.”

  Rolling my eyes, I laughed; Meg was back.

  She flipped open the book’s pages, and I gave her space, watching, waiting for her reaction. First, her brow furrowed as she read through the opening pages. After a few read-throughs, she looked up with wide eyes, her lips parted in surprise. “Your dad hung onto this for all these years?”

  “It must be fate,” I said, patting Meg’s leg in an attempt to slide over. I patted harder and harder until she got the message and swiveled to a sitting position. Scooching next to her, I started reading over her shoulder.

  Sweet Sixteen Bucket List

  Go on a real date (with a nice boy)

  Kiss in the rain (with a bad boy)

  Buy myself a present for no good reason (even if I don’t have money)

  Start up a conversation with a random person (but not a creepy person)

  Smile at three strangers (at least…but check for food in teeth first, so not to be a crazy person)

  Learn how to cook a meal (ask mom for help)

  Sleep naked (I read in Cosmo this is fun? Need to see what it’s all about)

  Ditch school (Helen Anderson told me it was so rebel)

  Say “yes” when I want to say “no” to one thing (Make it good)

  TBD

  “Are you telling me this is something your mom wrote when she was sixteen?” Meg looked up. “This is practically antique.”

  “I mean, she’s not that old.”

  “This belongs in a museum.”

  “It’s not that old. Historians have letters from…” I hesitated, realizing I didn’t have a good guesstimate. Probably, I should’ve paid more attention in history. But since that ship had sailed, I settled for ‘close enough.’ “They have letters from a long time ago.”