"I'm giving it to the police," I announced in a steadfast tone. Although, let's be honest, I really wanted to keep it for myself. "We'd better head out."
When we arrived at the parking lot, I approached the policeman who'd loaded Delta into the back of his patrol car. "Officer, we found something in the little mill that's pertinent to the case. It's the legendary Lacour diamond."
Delta's head turned so sharply I thought it was going to spin all the way around like Linda Blair's in The Exorcist. "That diamond is mine!" she shouted at the closed window. "Do you hear me, Franki Amato? Mine!"
The officer shined his flashlight on the stone. "That's some diamond."
"And it's my property!" she yelled. "Give it to me this instant!"
"I can't do that, ma'am," he said, turning to the window. "This diamond is evidence."
Seeing Delta's reaction, a thought occurred to me. "Officer, do you mind if we take a few pictures with the diamond, since we found it, and all?"
"Make it quick," he replied, depositing the gem into my palm.
Delta shot daggers at me with her eyes. "Get your filthy hands off my heirloom!"
Chandra and I snapped several selfies with the diamond as Delta raged.
That'll teach her for making cracks about my size, I thought as I returned the diamond to the officer with a huge grin on my face.
By the time he drove away, Delta's fury had given way to tears, and she was wailing and blubbering about her "precious pink baby."
"What a wuss," Chandra said.
"Yeah," Lou agreed. "Southern steel, my culo."
I smiled at his use of the uncouth Italian term for derriere. "Once again, Lou, you took the words right out of my mouth."
* * *
When I entered my office the next morning, there were beignets and a soy latte on my desk. I turned to find Veronica in the doorway. "What's this?"
"A small thank you for your amazing work on the case."
"Are you sure you're not mad that I continued working the investigation?"
"I can't tell you what to do with your day off, but I am upset that you put yourself in danger." She crossed her arms. "Promise me that you'll give me a heads-up the next time you plan to confront a ruthless killer."
"I promise," I said, taking a seat behind my desk. "But honestly, I thought I was covered after calling the police. And besides, you've been so busy lately that I thought you wanted me to handle the case on my own."
"I have been busy," she said as she eased into the armchair. "And the truth is that after I helped you get the investigation underway, I did take a step back."
"I noticed," I said, reaching for a beignet. "I just don't understand why."
She sighed. "Because PIs don't work with partners like the police do. And even though I'd love for us to collaborate on cases, the budget doesn't allow for that yet. So, I needed for you to gain confidence in your ability to work a case on your own." She smiled. "And after bringing down Delta Dupré, you should be able to handle anyone."
I swallowed a big bite of beignet. "I see what you're saying," I began, dusting powdered sugar from my hands, "and I have to admit that in some ways it was pretty great to call the shots. But you're overlooking the fact that I did have a partner on this case."
"Who? David?"
I took a sip of latte. "Chandra."
Veronica rolled her eyes. "Now, I'll admit that she and her husband saved your life, and for that I'll be forever grateful, but—"
"No buts about it," I interrupted. "Like you, I have my doubts about her psychic abilities, but no one can deny that her vision of the spirit and the doorknob led to the discovery of the Lacour diamond. And while we're on the subject, I have some sparkly selfies to show you."
Veronica clapped her hands as I handed her my phone. She was swiping through the photos when my Sir Mix-a-Lot ringtone sounded. She looked up. "It's Ivanna's father."
I grabbed the phone and pressed answer. "Hi, Liam."
"I'm calling to congratulate you on your stupendous work on the case," he said. "You should be proud to know that it's a lead story in the Italian news."
"You're in Italy?"
Veronica looked as surprised as I was.
"I had Ivanna buried beside her mother," he said, the pain evident in his tone.
"I'm glad." I wanted to ask him about the belladonna, but I didn't feel right about doing it after he'd mentioned the burial.
"I also wanted you to know that the police called me this morning." He paused. "They've released Adam."
Liam had just presented me with the opening I needed. "Did they ask if you'd planted the belladonna in his lab?"
There was silence on the line. "As far as they're concerned, the case is closed," he said in a cautious tone. "And as for Adam, the arrest gave him the opportunity to sober up and think about his actions, past and future. So, all things considered, there was no harm done."
I was silent as I wrestled with my conscience. Liam had committed a crime, but what good would it do to turn him in? Adam was already free, but Liam might go to jail—that is, if he came back to the United States. And if he was imprisoned, he could never work for Doctors Without Borders again.
There was a muffled voice over a loudspeaker.
Liam cleared his throat. "That's my boarding call."
I wasn't surprised he was at the airport. "Are you going back to Syria?"
"Afghanistan."
The call came over the loudspeaker again.
This was it—my last chance to insist that he turn himself in. "Liam…"
"Yes?"
But then I thought of all the lives he would save. "Have a safe flight."
"Thank you, Franki," he said softly. "So very much."
I tossed my phone on the desk and looked into Veronica's eyes. We both knew there was nothing to say.
The main door slammed.
"David's here," we said in unison—happy for the distraction.
"Franki!" he yelled, entering the room like a tornado. "You're a hero!"
I grinned. "Chandra and Lou are heroes too."
He curled his upper lip. "They didn't look like it on the news."
"Why not?" Veronica asked. "What do heroes look like?"
"I dunno, but not like cosmic plumbers."
I burst out laughing, imagining them decked out in moons, stars, and plumbing supplies. "I'm sure they looked better than Glenda did when she was on TV after our last murder investigation."
David turned pink and said nothing.
"So, how are you going to celebrate your success?" Veronica asked.
"Work, I guess," I replied.
"No, ma'am," she said, wagging her index finger at me. "You're taking that day off."
"Dude!" David exclaimed. "The Jazz and Heritage Festival starts today. You should totally go."
"I don't want to go to a concert alone," I said. Then I saw Veronica's brows lower with concern, so I added, "I think I'll spend the day with my man."
Her brows shot up. "Bradley?"
I stiffened, and then shook my head. "Napoleon."
* * *
I pulled into my Uptown neighborhood, wishing I could avoid the cemetery. The realization that I had no one to celebrate with except for my dog had really gotten me down. The last thing I needed right now was a bunch of graves reminding me that I was going to die alone too.
It didn't help that Veronica had mentioned Bradley. I knew I shouldn't miss him, but I did. I even found myself wondering whether Chandra had been right about Pauline not being the third person in my relationship. Because there was one other candidate I could think of—my nonna. She was nothing if not a third wheel. And not your ordinary car wheel, either.
I was trying to figure out what the biggest wheel in the world was when my phone rang. I looked at the display before responding, "Bonjour, Corinne."
"Have you seen ze news?" she whisper-shouted.
Oh no, I thought. What have Chandra and Lou done now? I envisioned Chandra going into on
e of her vibrating spirit trances while Lou performed some sort of plumbing demonstration. "About my case, right?"
"Oui!" she whisper-exclaimed. "Ze FBI took her away in ze handcuffs."
"Ze FBI?" I echoed. I'd suspected Chandra of faking a vision or two, but I had no idea the feds were involved.
Oui, ze FBI," she repeated. "And Bradley helped!"
When she said his name, I finally understood. And I had to pull over to recover from the shock. "Bradley was working with the FBI?"
"He was undercover! He prove zat Pauline embezzle from ze bank and ze children," Corinne gushed. "Now I must go before my manager see me. A bientôt!"
I hung up my phone and hung my head. Bradley had said that things weren't what they seemed, and I'd laughed. Even worse, he'd asked me to trust him, and I hadn't. I doubted that he would ever forgive me.
The final scene from Gone with the Wind popped into my head. Scarlett was crying on the staircase after Rhett had walked out on her for the last time. Then she looked off into the distance and vowed to get him back because, after all, tomorrow was another day.
"Southern belle bimbo," I said as I shifted the car back into gear and headed for home.
A few minutes later, I pulled in front of my house and slammed on the brakes.
Bradley was in the driveway in a sleek Armani suit and dark sunglasses. He looked like a male model—with a bouquet of yellow roses in his hand.
Because I had my convertible top down, I almost leapt over the side of my car to get to him. But I decided that the occasion called for a more ladylike route, i.e., the door.
He took off his sunglasses, and our eyes locked as I walked up the driveway.
"Franki, I—"
"Sh." I put my finger on his lips. "I already know."
Then I replaced my finger with my mouth.
When we came up for air, I narrowed my eyes said, "But I do have one question."
He ran a hand through his hair. "What is it?"
"How in the hell did you end up working with the FBI?"
He grimaced. "Well, the investigation is still pending so I can't go into details. But what I can say is that I contacted the FBI after a major donor to the 'Shoot for the Moon' fundraiser called about a tax receipt for his donation, and I couldn't find any record of it."
"That's terrible." I looked down. I felt really bad for Bradley, and I was still so angry at Pauline for trying to take advantage of him.
“Hey,” Bradley said as he gently lifted my chin with his finger and looked into my eyes. With his free hand he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. "This is for you."
Thinking it was a letter or card, I shivered when I realized that it was an airline itinerary for two from New Orleans to… "Houston?"
He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I got a really, uh, interesting and persuasive call from Father Roman and Carmela about making things right with your mamma."
I put my finger back on his lips. "And you still came here today?"
He took my hand in his and kissed my palm. "Actually, I thought it was charming."
I blinked. Poor man, how could he know? The reality of Nonna was just too unreal for anyone to fathom. He would have to learn for himself. Until then, I thought it best to change the subject. I snuggled up to him and asked, "Do you have to go back to work?"
He sighed. "For a few hours. The bank merger was due to go through this week, but now that Pauline is in the news, I have to do damage control."
I rested my forehead on his. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm not," he breathed and then kissed my eyelids. "Not now that I have you back."
I felt my body go limp and was grateful his strong arms were around me.
"How about dinner tonight?" He kissed the tip of my nose and flashed a devilish smile. "We could go to Nonna Mia."
I instantly regained my strength and punched him in the arm. "When hell freezes over."
He laughed and pulled me closer. "Okay, then. Galatoire's?"
"That's really fancy," I said as he kissed my cheeks. "I'm not sure I have anything appropriate to wear."
He moved his lips a fraction away from mine. "What about that knockout skirt?"
RECIPES
Pink Prosecco Lemonade
Franki Amato loves her Limoncello, but she's also rather fond of Pink Prosecco. In the spirit of excess (I mean, where's the spirit in moderation?), she has found a way to combine them in this delicious pink lemony drink.
Pink Prosecco
Limoncello
Pink lemonade
Strawberry for garnish
In a fluted glass, mix two parts Pink Prosecco, one part Limoncello, and one part pink lemonade. Garnish with a strawberry.
Pink Prosecco with Raspberry Sorbet
Veronica's favorite "ladies' night" drink also involves Pink Prosecco—but with a scoop of yummy raspberry sorbet (It goes without saying, of course, that Glenda substitutes Pink Champagne—and skips the sorbet).
Pink Prosecco
Raspberry sorbet
Place one scoop of raspberry sorbet in a fluted glass. Fill with Pink Prosecco and serve immediately.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Grazie for reading Prosecco Pink!
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Prosecco Pink. The characters in the Franki Amato Mysteries are very special to me because they're loosely based on people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting during my lifetime—except for the killers, of course! I'm also really fond of this series because it has its origins in a car trip I took from Texas to New Orleans with my parents in the early nineties so that my father could stock up on Italian deli meat at Central Grocery (Italians will go to great lengths for their food).
When I wrote Limoncello Yellow, the first book in the series, I got a lot of fan email about Franki. But I actually received more about Nonna and Glenda, LOL! As an author, I was thrilled to get reader feedback. And some of the things people said about Limoncello Yellow helped me to make improvements to Prosecco Pink. So I would love to hear your thoughts, good or bad, about my books. You can write to me at [email protected].
If you would rather not write to me directly, then please consider writing a favorable review of Prosecco Pink. These days, authors are dependent on readers like you to stay in business. So thank you in advance for taking the time to write a review.
Mille grazie!
Traci Andrighetti
P.S. If you're a Franki fan, I'd love to have you on my street team, The Giallo Squad. You can find information about how to join and what you will receive on my website: www.traciandrighetti.com
BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS
for Prosecco Pink
In Prosecco Pink, Glenda reveals that she loves pirates (well, any man, really). What's your type?
Are there NOLA sites referenced in the novel that you would like to visit?
What does the color pink symbolize to Ivanna? What does it mean to you?
Do you believe in ghosts? Why or why not?
Was Franki right to be skeptical of Chandra's psychic abilities? Have you ever been to a psychic?
Investigating a murder on the grounds of a plantation has Franki quoting lines from Gone with the Wind. Do you ever quote from books or movies?
Plantation homes are common in Louisiana. Have you ever visited a plantation?
Nonna Carmela is up to some new tricks in Prosecco Pink. How do you think Franki could stop her meddling once and for all?
Do you think Franki should have forgiven Bradley for not telling her that he was working with the FBI?
Lastly (and most importantly), who do you think ultimately ends up with that fabulous coral-pink diamond?
* * * * *
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* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Traci Andrighetti is the author of the Franki
Amato Mysteries. In her previous life, she was an award-winning literary translator and a Lecturer of Italian at the University of Texas at Austin, where she earned a PhD in Applied Linguistics. But then she got wise and ditched that academic stuff for a life of crime—writing, that is.
If she's not hard at work on her next novel, Traci is probably watching her favorite Italian soap opera, eating Tex Mex, or sampling fruity cocktails, and maybe all at the same time. She lives in Austin with her husband, young son, and three treat-addicted dogs
To learn more about Traci, visit her online at: www.traciandrighetti.com
* * * * *
BOOKS BY TRACI ANDRIGHETTI
Franki Amato Mysteries:
Limoncello Yellow
Prosecco Pink
Rosolio Red
(holiday short story in Cozy Christmas Capers)
* * * * *
SNEAK PEEK
If you enjoyed this Franki Amato Mystery, check out this sneak peek of another funny, romantic mystery from Gemma Halliday Publishing:
DIVA LAS VEGAS
by
STEPHANIE CAFFREY
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
I was naked and sweaty, and not in the mood to walk in on someone rummaging through my locker.
"Excuse me, can I help you?" I used my bitchiest voice.
The woman flinched and straightened up to face me. "Just checking to see if you still keep some hooch around here." She managed a weak smile.
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