Lacey Luzzi: Spooked: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 6)

by Gina LaManna

  I stared at my feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Carlos shook his head. “What do you want me to say to the client?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How about you decide – quickly,” Carlos said. “The client is waiting in the kitchen. I expect you to go down there and explain everything. Now, Lacey.”

  “Sir—” Anthony stepped forward. “I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “Don’t you?” Carlos put a hand on the door. “Tough.”

  “I’m going with her.” Anthony stepped in front of me, placing his body between my grandfather and me.

  Carlos shrugged. “My client won’t hurt her – after all, this is my house. She’ll be safe enough…for now.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Anthony said. “I believe I can work this out, sir.”

  Carlos looked between the two of us. “This particular client won’t be happy about this.”

  “I’ll ask for an extension on the item. We’ll find it quickly now that I have access to all the information – information that you will give to me, sir, if you ever hope to recover the property for your client,” Anthony said. “After securing this item, we will deliver it back to him in once piece. I will personally pay for the delay and any inconvenience to him.”

  “Fine,” Carlos snapped, disappearing before I could argue.

  “Anthony, you can’t.” I turned, holding his wrists. “What if the client doesn’t want money? What if he takes it out on you?”

  Anthony flipped my grasp on his wrist so that he held me by the shoulders. “Better me than you.”

  “It’s my fault. I may as well face the music.” I tried to step backwards, away from Anthony’s fingers, but he held on tight. “Let go. Please.”

  “No. You wait here, I’ll send the client away. I’ll take care of it, Lacey.”

  “You can’t spend your money on my mistake.”

  “Sugar, you don’t have enough money to cover this.”

  “How do you know?” I frowned.

  Anthony blinked. “I know everything.”

  “I’m beginning to think so,” I said, sighing. “I don’t want you to be cleaning up my mistakes for the rest of our lives.”

  “Hey, listen.” Anthony let go of one of my shoulders, tipping my chin upwards. “I’ll clean up as many mistakes as it takes, if it means I get to spend my life next to you.”

  I blinked back the sting of oncoming emotions. “You’d do that?”

  “I’d do that, and more.” Anthony pulled me into a hug. “With a smile on my face.”

  Raising my hands to his chest, I pushed him backwards with a gentle touch. “I can’t let you do that. I’m not wired to let other people clean up my messes.”

  “But—”

  “Stop,” I said. “You can’t change it, you can’t change me. I need to talk to the client myself.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.”

  “I told you, I’m not letting you wipe my mistakes under the rug and take the blame. I—”

  “How about we go together?” Anthony tilted his head to the side. “Like a team.”

  I paused, startled. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”

  “I like you because you’re strong, Lacey. Maybe not your biceps, but your spirit.” Anthony gave a small smile. “You’re independent and resourceful and you get things done, whether or not your methods are pretty. You’re beautiful and sensitive, and I wouldn’t want to change any of that.”

  I swallowed, looking away.

  “But we have features that complement each other. Without you, I wouldn’t be nearly as happy as I am – the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you pretend you’re in grave danger just to make me stop by on your way out of town and load your bags in the car. A bellboy.”

  “A very good-looking bellboy,” I gave a choked laugh. “Now stop talking before I cry.”

  “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m trying not to, but my eyes are leaking!” I bit my lip. “When you say those nice things, it’s hard to keep the emotions inside, sometimes. I don’t understand why you like me.”

  “I don’t know either, but I think that’s the magic of it.” Anthony’s lips turned into a soft smile, one filled with kindness. “I guess I don’t know everything, after all.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” I leaned into his chest, hiding my face in his shirt.

  “Lacey, I can list a hundred reasons why I love being with you, but not a single one – or even all of them together – would ever properly describe how I feel.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “I know a lot of reasons I like you, too. Including your arms. They’re really nice. And I also like the way you stood up for me to my grandfather, the way you—”

  “Stop talking,” Anthony said.

  “No! If you’re allowed to say a bunch of nice things about me, I’m allowed to say them back.”

  “Not according to my rules.”

  “I love the way you—”

  Anthony interrupted my thoughts with a kiss that nearly turned me into a balloon, floating upwards and filled with warmth and happiness. He lifted me in his arms, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. His lips softened, molding against mine as if we had all the time in the world just now – ignoring the sounds of a party starting in the ballroom above us, the pressing matter of a waiting client in the kitchen, and Carlos’s threat to take care of business. Anthony kissed me until I forgot everything, and it wasn’t until he pulled away that I remembered to breathe.

  I reached a hand out. “Anthony,” I said gently, stroking his cheek.

  “Mmm?” His eyes had turned the cappuccino color I loved so much, and though I could be mistaken, I thought a flash of uncertainty flickered in his gaze.

  “I have totally ruined your face paint.” I gave a shake of my head. “You can’t go out there like this.”

  Anthony looked confused for a moment, almost a tad disappointed. But before I could ask what was wrong, amusement took over. “Yeah, well you’ve got stripes smeared all over you, too. I suppose that’s obvious, you’re my little tigress.”

  I raised my Aladdin vest to my face, swiping furiously. “If we go now, maybe we can stop by a bathroom along the way.”

  Chapter 30

  One bathroom trip, a few makeup remover cloths, and some heavy-breathing-into-a-lunch-bag later, I emerged into the Great Hall. I had re-puffed my Aladdin pants, re-straightened my purple vest, and re-slicked my hair in the style of a man. I’d never prepared in a stranger way for a business meeting.

  When Anthony emerged a few minutes later from another restroom, I reached out and intertwined my hand with his.

  Almost immediately, he wiggled out of my grasp, wrinkling his nose. “Maybe we shouldn’t. It might, uh, give off the wrong impression.”

  “Oh.” I let go, walking next to him, instead. “It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve slicked it back very realistically.”

  “So you’re saying I could pass for a dude?”

  Anthony cleared his throat.

  “A handsome dude,” Harold said, joining the growing party in the Great Hall. “You have company in the kitchen.”

  “Company?” Clay came down the staircase in the middle of the grand entryway, his footsteps masked by the plush carpeting. “What am I missing?”

  “Go back to the party, Clay,” I said. “It doesn’t concern you.”

  “If it’s about the computer programs Anthony asked me to run this morning, then it does concern me.” Clay crossed his arms. “I found the pattern you were looking for in the sign-in records from the front gate.”

  Anthony raised his eyebrows at me. “Clay found a pattern and you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “It was a fluke,” I said. “A mistake. The only ‘error’ he found was from the other day when Meg and I came to the house. The guard marked Meg as entering but not leaving, or something. Probably because he was too busy being distracted by her flirta
tions.”

  Anthony nodded. “I see. No other patterns?”

  Clay shook his head. “Not unless you want to tell me what I’m looking for in terms of information. It’s hard to operate when I have no guidelines.”

  “It’s too late anyway.” I massaged my temples. “I’ve already failed.”

  “We might have more work, and more explanations, for you later,” Anthony said. “If I can convince the client to give us an extension, then I’ll need your help.”

  Clay puffed his chest out. “Yes, sir.”

  “You don’t act like that when I ask you for help,” I said.

  “Because you ask me for help turning your computer on or hauling your bags down to the car.” Clay shook his head. “Not cool, important missions.”

  “This is my mission.” I glanced at Anthony, backtracking immediately. “Our mission.”

  “Why can’t I know about it?” Clay asked. “You tell me everything.”

  “Not this thing,” I said. “But not because I didn’t want to. It’s not my fault. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

  “By who? You ignore everyone who asks you to keep a secret.” Clay looked between us, realization dawning on his face. “Ahh. I understand.”

  “Carlos.” We all three spoke at once.

  We all three nodded.

  We all three looked down at our shoes.

  “Um, Lacey?” Harold cleared his throat. “The guest.”

  “Oh, right. Clay, can you sit this meeting out?” I asked. “I’ll promise to fill you in later.”

  “No.” He crossed his arms. “I’m coming.”

  I sighed. “I guess there’s no harm now – we might as well bring the whole cast of Aladdin to disappoint Carlos’s client. Just…stay in the background, please.”

  “I won’t speak until someone rubs my lamp.” Clay smiled at his own joke. “Get it? I’m a genie.”

  “Gross!” I turned to follow Harold. “Ew, Clay.”

  “Nothing? Not a single laugh, I can’t believe it. This is getting ridiculous, you guys. Anthony, no laughs?” Clay scurried to catch up as Anthony and I kept to Harold’s heels. “Since when did you guys become such a tough crowd?”

  “Harold, have you met the guest yet?” I asked, as my cousin mumbled under his breath about us being no fun anymore.

  “Yes.” The butler’s response was clipped.

  Our trio of characters pulled up short outside the kitchen.

  “And?” I asked. “How dangerous is he?”

  “Well…” Harold looked almost longingly through the door. “I suppose one could say the guest is dangerous, though that’s not the first word that comes to mind.”

  “Is he huge?” I gestured to an imaginary figure double the size of Anthony. “Is he armed?”

  “The client is not large,” Harold said after a pause. “The two bodyguards are quite intimidating, however.”

  “Oh, no.” I pressed a hand to my chest, my nervous system hitting overdrive once again. After today’s ups and downs, I’d need to retire to my bed for a few weeks to recover. “This is horrible.”

  “Not so horrible,” Harold said. “Almost…”

  “Almost what?” I asked, as Harold set his hand on the door, his fingers bending under the pressure of the heavy wood. “Almost what?”

  Harold sighed, as though star struck. “She’s…beautiful.”

  Before I could answer, he’d flung the door open.

  “She?” I squeaked, nearly inaudible. Why on earth had nobody told me the client was a woman? “Beautiful?”

  Anthony rested a gentle hand on my lower back, coaxing me through the entrance to the kitchen. I stumbled inside, grasping the counter to right myself before I ended up on the floor in a heap of surprise.

  Shock, surprise, relief? I couldn’t figure out what to feel at the moment. I did know that I’d suddenly gone mute. Completely speechless. My mouth moved, but no words came out.

  At the sturdy wooden table, looking utterly comfortable in the quaint, yellow-walled kitchen, sat a doppelganger for the Queen of England – the woman here just as old, and just as dainty. Wearing an all pink skirt and an all pink jacket, along with an over-sized hat perched atop a mane of snowy white hair, the woman’s appearance said old money, plain and simple. There’s no way she didn’t have a fancy accent.

  “Hi,” I finally managed. “I’m Lacey.”

  “Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third.” The woman stood, extending a gloved hand in my direction, her voice a lilting, perfected southern drawl. “Pleasure.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I curtsied.

  “Shake her hand,” Anthony whispered.

  “Oh.” I extended my hand and as delicately as if I were touching a rose, and shook her hand in return. Without trying, I parroted the woman’s southern drawl. “Pleasure.”

  The woman’s face crinkled. “Are you from the south, as well?”

  “No.” I blushed. “Don’t know why I suddenly picked up an accent, sorry about that.”

  Two bodyguards, double the size of Nora’s refrigerator, crossed their arms and looked as if they were even less talkative than Anthony on a bad day. One was bald, the other had enough hair for the both of them. They were armed beyond belief, though I didn’t think they’d need any extra equipment besides their hands, which were large enough to snap me in half.

  “How rude of me.” The woman ignored both of her bodyguards and heaved her shoulder bag in my general direction, proudly showing off a poodle that could fit in a teacup. “This is Poopsie. She’s pleased to meet you, too.”

  “She’s…” I tried for the word adorable. Instead, all I could manage was, “She’s small.”

  “Tiny and feisty, aren’t you, darling?” Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third kissed her little pup’s head with more love than most newlyweds. “She’s the love of my life.”

  “How wonderful, you two make quite the pair.” I smiled, extending a hand palm-down so Poopsie could sniff my fingers. But apparently Poopsie and I had somehow gotten off on the wrong foot, seeing as how the dog snarled and yelped like I was trying to kidnap her.

  “Oh, sorry.” I backed away, alarmed. “I didn’t realize – er, she’s quite the guard dog.”

  “Feisty, like I said.” Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third patted her poodle’s head until Poopsie calmed down, purring under her owner’s touch. Lizabeth looked up with a well-practiced smile. “So, may I have my item?”

  “About that—” I said.

  “Poopsie needs her crown.” Lizabeth Harriet the Third puckered her lips. “She has a big show coming up, don’t you, pretty girl?” Lizabeth finished her sentence in an octave normally reserved for newborn babies.

  Clay’s and Anthony’s jaws both dropped at once. And if I could be inside their heads right now, I imagined they might be thinking something along the line of, all this…all this effort for a dog’s hat? Well, little did they know, it was a crown.

  I groaned internally. I’d never live this down.

  “It’s worth a significant amount of money.” Lizabeth Harriet Morgan the Third’s pink lips turned downwards. “I assume it’s available, as I requested?”

  “Yes, of course,” I mumbled, before I realized that no, in fact the crown was not available. “Um…I just need to polish it up first. Harold, maybe you could get our guest something to drink?”

  “Ma’am.” Harold stepped forward and bowed so low his nose nearly dusted the floor. “Anything you desire.”

  I started for the door, but stopped when my hand touched the wood. Was Harold flirting?

  “How about a name, darlin’?” Lizabeth Harriet the Third asked. “I’m—”

  “Lizabeth Harriet the Third,” Harold said, his voice breathier than I’d ever heard it. “So you said. What a lovely name.”

  I turned and looked over my shoulder, feeling like a peeping tom as I watched Harold take Lizabeth’s extended hand and gently kiss it. His lips lingered a second longer than any formal introduction required,
and when he pulled back, the woman gave him a genuine smile.

  Go, Harold! I cheered in my head. It’d only help our cause if the butler could charm the pants off this woman. Maybe the bad news – that the crown no longer resided in Luzzi hands – would come as less of a blow if she got a phone number out of the deal. At least, I hoped so, because as refined and dainty as Lizabeth appeared, her guards were quite the opposite, standing in the corner and cracking their knuckles, their eyes dull, muscles straining as if looking for a fight.

  “I think she likes me,” Harold said with a grin, gently petting the poodle’s head. “Hi, doll.”

  The little traitor Poopsie preened and pressed her little body against Harold’s fingers, happy as a clam for the attention from him.

  “The crown,” Anthony murmured. “What is your plan?”

  “I’m improvising.” Anthony’s voice had stirred me back to reality.

  I pushed through the mahogany door, leaving Harold and Lizabeth to bond in the kitchen. I made it only two steps before I ran smack dab into Jasmine. At least, the Halloween version.

  “Meg?” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  Dressed with a blue bra and blue pants, a wig on her head, and a tiny tiara on top of the wig, she’d come in full-on Jasmine attire. Except for the mascara streaking down her cheeks, she looked perfect. The black rivers running lines from her eyes to her neck ruined the image, but only a little.

  “Is it true?” Meg cried, landing her hands on my shoulders with so much force the two of us stumbled back through the swinging door, landing in a heap on the kitchen floor. “Are you the Aladdin to my Jasmine?”

  “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” I focused on detangling our limbs. I grasped onto Anthony’s arm like a lifeline, letting him pull me to my feet. “What do you think of my costume?”

  “You did it…for me?” Meg’s eyes watered as she reached for Clay’s hands, also hoping for a lift up.

  But Meg had too much force, and even as Clay squinted and groaned and tugged on her with every last ounce of beef-bowl in him, the mission to haul Meg up was unsuccessful. All it took was one yank from Meg and Clay toppled right onto the floor with her.