Mob Wedding Mayhem

by Ally Gray

  “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “Does it help at all that you’re one hundred percent right, and that I’m really sorry?”

  “I’d love to crack a joke right now, but I don’t have anything. You’ve got to cut me some slack, and at least wait for me to do something piggish before you treat me like this.” He reached over and took her hand, but when Stacy looked into his eyes they were the saddest she’d ever seen them. Nathan cleared his throat, and the sound of him covering up his emotions almost destroyed her. “Now why don’t you start by telling me why you’re here? You’ve got the contracts already and this isn’t your first nuptial rodeo at the country club, so you can’t possibly need to get a look at the venue.”

  Stacy opened her mouth to make a casual, off-the-cuff remark, but decided to try trusting Nathan instead, if for no other reason than to test the limits of the loving support he’d just bragged about.

  “I’m going to go look through the offices in order to find out who this dead guy in the pond was, and if anybody really got killed the other day, only mere seconds before my meeting with Mr. D’Argenzio.”

  It was Nathan’s turn to bite back his words. He pressed his lips together until they mashed into a pale pink line. Somehow he still managed to smile like that.

  “What’s wrong, honey? Aren’t you going to say anything?” Stacy asked, knowing full well that she had the upper hand now. “I mean, it’s not like you’d ever tell me what to do or anything, right?”

  He shook his head, still smiling despite the audible sound of his teeth grinding in frustration.

  “Oh good! So… are you gonna come with, or do you just wanna sit here and watch my purse while I go investigate a possible mob hit?”

  Nathan let his head fall back against the seat, finally unclenching his jaw and sighing deeply. He closed his eyes for a moment and Stacy could swear she heard him praying before he reached for the door handle. He still muttered to himself as he climbed out of the car.

  “I’m gonna kill you, Rod.”

  Chapter 10

  “So, where do you want to start, Dick Tracy?” Nathan hissed in her ear. Stacy looked around the dining room, ostensibly counting the tables and eyeing up the space for the dance floor, before cocking her head towards the wall of windows that overlooked the eighteenth hole.

  “Over there. Let’s look around the kitchen and see if the chef is here.”

  “Why, are you hungry all of a sudden?”

  “Actually, smart guy, I’m pretty famished. But no, I’ve known the chef for years. He stayed on when the club was bought, so he might be the first one to talk. After all, he’s known me longer than he’s known the guy who signs his paycheck.”

  “Good plan,” Nathan admitted. “Here, give me your phone. I’m gonna be your assistant taking notes to make it look official.”

  She handed it over with a word of warning. “Don’t enjoy this too much, we’re not going to repaint the car like the Mystery Machine and name a dog Scooby.”

  “We’re getting a dog? That’s awesome!” he answered excitedly. “I didn’t want to bring it up because I know it’s right at the beginning of the wedding season, but I’ve been looking at some dogs on the animal shelter’s website. They have this one dog, a black Lab, and it’s—”

  “Hey, sweetie? Interviewing a man about a dead guy, remember? And no, I’m not ready to talk about dogs. You know you’ll end up sticking me with feeding it and watering it and walking it…”

  “I would not!” he insisted under his breath, but stopped when they reached the swinging door to the kitchen. The two of them peered through the round window to see if anyone was inside before pushing through the door.

  “Chef Ramirez!” Stacy cried, holding out both hands to the surprisingly young, good looking man as she walked through the labyrinth of gleaming metal countertops and rolling racks filled with dishes. He looked up and immediately reached for a bar towel to wipe the flour from his hands.

  “Stacy! How are you, darling? You haven’t been here in ages!” He took her hands and kissed both her cheeks, a throwback to his culinary training in France more than his Mexican heritage.

  “I know, we just haven’t had anything on the agenda that’s brought us this way, at least not in the last few months. Jorge, have you met my husband, Nathan?” she asked, turning and pulling Nathan forward by the elbow. The two men shook hands, and she saw Nathan wince under Jorge’s firm grip.

  “You got married? Tell me it’s not true! I’ve been saving myself for you for all these years!” Jorge cried out before winking at Stacy.

  “Please don’t let Miguel hear you say that, especially with all these sharp knives around,” she answered. Nathan visibly relaxed, and Stacy stifled a laugh at what would have been jealousy. Her expression turned serious as she spoke, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Listen, I need your help. I’m not actually here for planning purposes. I need to know… about the boss.”

  Jorge stiffened, his back becoming straight. He squared his shoulders and his facial expression told her that he clearly had nothing to say on the subject. His body language was almost all the communication he needed to make his point, but he spoke out loud anyway. “I don’t have anything to say. And the kitchen is closed to everyone but country club staff.”

  He pointed to the door briefly, then turned on his heels and walked back towards the dishwashing area, moving his arms and practically scooping up the other members of the kitchen staff to go with him. Stacy and Nathan were left isolated and confused, and had no choice but to head back to the dining room.

  “That was beyond weird,” Nathan said. “So much for doing your own sleuthing using your connections. If that guy’s an old friend, I can’t wait to see how you approach a random groundskeeper.”

  Stacy was about to fire off a retort but her phone buzzed in Nathan’s hand. She plucked it out of his fingers and turned it around to read a text from Jorge:

  Sorry, caridad, I explain later. Miguel and I come to your house tonight for dinner. I bring shrimp and grits!

  “Well, not only has my sleuthing paid off in information, we’re getting dinner out of it, too,” she said, shooting Nathan a triumphant look.

  “Oh my god, tell me it’s the shrimp and grits! Please say he’s bring shrimp and grits!” he answered, swallowing loudly to avoid drooling on himself.

  Half an hour later, the two of them were zipping over the cart path in a golf cart borrowed from the pro shop on the pretense of calculating how many strings of lighting would be needed for the outdoor reception. Nathan carried the tape measure from Stacy’s handbag this time, and they even stretched it between them as they walked around the grounds and talked.

  “Okay, this is where the body was floating,” Stacy said, using her pencil to point in the direction of the pond. She stretched out the tape measure again and walked away from Nathan, then pretended to take note of the distance and recorded it in her notebook. She walked back towards him, cranking the metal handle on the casing as she walked. “Take a look at the landscape. Does it look off to you?”

  “Off how? Like is there a bloody trail where a sad, spurned boyfriend got dragged in?”

  “No! I don’t know what I mean, I just mean that there should be some sign of how he was dumped in, right?”

  Nathan scanned the area all around them, pausing from time to time to also type in his phone as though taking notes. He looked out over the fairways and looked towards the tree line before letting his eyes rove the golf cart path all around them.

  “Okay, when I play golf, I follow this path around the water hazard because I tend to hit the ball a little to the right. If you look at the way the grass wears down a little to the side, you can tell that most golfers here do, too. But look up at that slope. The grass is torn up a little bit in two tracks, just like a golf cart rode over the fairway.”

  “Okay? I thought you guys could go anywhere except where the signs are posted,” Stacy said, trying to follow his logic.


  “Right. But also look at how the grass stayed mushed down right in that one spot. It looks like there was a vehicle parked there, and that it stayed for a while.” Nathan wanted to walk over and take a look, but he couldn’t risk being seen standing in what could possibly be the scene of a brutal killing. “Here’s my theory… they brought the boyfriend out here in a golf cart—alive or dead, it doesn’t matter—and then carried him to the pond and threw him in.”

  “But where did they get the rocks for his pockets?”

  “The golf cart parking area where you return your cart. It’s got limestone gravel covering the lot to keep runaway carts from rolling too far. They put it in last year when the high school summer hires let some carts get away from them.”

  “Look at the ground again, just on the other side of the pond,” Stacy said in a near whisper, coming over to Nathan and holding out her notebook for him to pretend to consult. “See the patches in the grass? Doesn’t it look like the four tire prints of a golf cart?”

  “Yeah, it does. But they’re wider than golf cart tires.”

  “You mean like one of those four-wheelers that hunters use?”

  “Or one of those gator trucks like we use for moving equipment around at an event. But either of those would make a ton of noise.” Nathan looked up the hill and squinted briefly, shading his eyes from both the sun and from anyone who happened to be watching them. “I’ve got it! It’s not a wider track, it’s… something else.”

  He took a quick look around to see if anyone had come near them, then darted across the small bridge until he was standing on the other side of the pond, directly across from Stacy. For the first time since this entire mess began, she felt actual fear, and not just for herself but for someone she loved more than her own life.

  He was only gone a minute before he raced back to her. Instead of saying anything he got behind the wheel of their golf cart and motioned for her to get in.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said breathlessly after putting some distance between them and the fourth hole. “The tire tracks are wider in that spot because the cart was moving around, side to side or something, and digging into the wet grass.”

  “Wet? But it hasn’t rained in at least three weeks.”

  “No, but they turn the sprinklers on to water the fairways. We just need to find out what time that sprinkler comes on and we’ll know roughly when they were there. The cart was probably moving around because the dead guy wasn’t dead.”

  “What?! That’s horrible!” Stacy cried before remembering they were trying to keep a low profile.

  “I know. They probably struggled in the cart when he figured out that something wasn’t right. Then they held his head under water until he stopped fighting, and then filled his pockets with the rocks to keep him from floating up. But with those old-style golf pants on, the rocks might have slipped out of the slanted pockets.”

  He rolled to a stop at the club house and turned to Stacy, reaching towards her and brushing thick strand of her hair out of her face. “Who else do you know who can answer some questions?”

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I thought I knew Jorge, didn’t I? If that’s how he reacted, I hate to see what will happen if I go asking any of the other regulars about the owner. I’m not sure I’d get any answer at all, let alone a truthful one.”

  “Then I hate to say it, but it’s time to talk to the bride… alone.”

  Chapter 11

  “Oh wow, Jorge, that was absolutely divine!” Stacy gushed as she leaned back from the table. Jorge beamed, and poured everyone another glass of wine.

  “Divine? What the heck kind of word is that to describe this meal? Divine doesn’t begin to cover it! It isn’t just heavenly, it’s otherworldly! This man is an extraterrestrial, sent here to feed us!” Miguel argued playfully. Stacy laughed, but noticed Nathan was strangely quiet.

  “Nathan? You okay, hon? Was something wrong with your dinner?” she asked, casting a sideways glance at Jorge to make sure he wasn’t insulted by the very question. Nathan shook his head emphatically.

  “No. In fact, that was so good I want to rub it in my hair, just to keep the scent on me a little longer! How in the world did you come up with that recipe? You have to tell me!”

  “It’s really nothing special,” Jorge said with a light, appreciative laugh. “The secret—like all foods—is in getting the freshest ingredients. Shrimp and grits was once considered ‘poor trash’ food, but when you use fresh heavy cream, andouille sausage, hand-picked collards from the farmers’ market, and Gulf jumbo shrimp, it all comes together just right!”

  “Speaking of putting it all together…” Nathan said pointedly, looking at Stacy and urging her to say something. She cleared her throat and focused on Jorge.

  “Yes, we were kind of hoping you could answer some questions about… the body,” she began, her voice dropping to a whisper at the end. Miguel excused himself to go outside and smoke, but not before Stacy noticed the look of nervous anticipation on his face.

  “I cannot tell you that much, caridad. He was the boyfriend of the bride, but not the one her daddy wants her to marry. That’s all I know about him.”

  “What is this, feudal England? Is her dad marrying her off to secure his treaty with the French or something? It’s crazy! Nobody does this in the 21st century!” Nathan shouted, suddenly indignant for the poor hapless bride. Stacy put a reassuring hand on his arm.

  “But I just spoke with AnaMaria this morning. She seems perfectly happy about the whole thing. Wouldn’t you expect a girl whose true love is dead and whose groom was hand-picked by her father to be a little more distraught?”

  “Oh no, Stacy! Not AnaMaria… the other one. Caterina.”

  “Oh god, the one who’s studying in Europe?” Stacy cried out, stricken at the image of Caterina finding out when she arrived in town that her secret love was dead and that her father had a hand in it. “The poor girl!”

  Jorge nearly choked on a sip of his wine. “Europe? Oh no, my dear, the girl is not in Europe. And studying? The only thing that one ever studied was the price of shoes, when she was sober enough to look down at her feet, that is.”

  Stacy and Nathan looked at each other in confusion before pressing Jorge to continue.

  “Caterina is the wild child of the family, and that’s saying something when you consider what her father does for a living…”

  “What exactly does he do for a living?” Nathan asked. Jorge only pressed a fingertip to his lips in warning, shrugged, then continued.

  “Anyway, Caterina is safely tucked away with her father’s sister’s family until this whole wedding goes down. You do know she’s the reason he bought the country club and moved them down here, right? Because of the baby?”

  “What?” Stacy and Nathan demanded in unison. Miguel stuck his head back inside, but seeing the looks of complete shock on their faces, he ducked back outside in a hurry.

  “Yes! Last year, she had the baby… it was this boyfriend.”

  No one spoke for several very long seconds. An illicit romance that their families disapproved of, a baby secreted away somewhere, a young girl sent away, a young man drowned… it was a lot to wrap their heads around.

  “You were almost on the mark today, Nathan,” Stacy said with finality. “We need to talk to the bride, but not AnaMaria… we need to talk to Caterina.”

  “You want us to talk to a mobster’s daughter about his plans for her? I’ve got an idea, we can just go ahead and book a tour through Giant’s stadium while we’re at it so his goons don’t have to work so hard to hide our bodies. We’ll give your regards to Jimmy Hoffa, Jorge.”

  “Sarcasm is an ugly, ugly thing, dear,” she said with a smile. “Think of this trip as the honeymoon we didn’t really have time to take.”

  “We went to Barbados for our honeymoon, you know. Two whole weeks. Glad it was memorable,” Nathan protested. Jorge just laughed.

  “It doesn’t count because we went to coord
inate a vow renewal ceremony! It was a workingmoon!” Stacy stuck her tongue out at him and shot him a smug look.

  “Already you two argue like an old married couple. It’s perfect! I’m so happy for you both. But speaking of old married couples, Miguel and I have to get going. The boss is having a business meeting in the morning and we’re serving breakfast.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Stacy was at her computer before their car turned out of the driveway. She sifted through the contracts to look for any sign of where Caterina might be staying.

  “She’s in Benton, Florida,” Nathan said, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders. She whirled around in her chair to face him.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just texted Mr. D’Argenzio and told him we needed some information for his other daughter’s dress fitting. He gave me his sister’s name and number. But before I show it to you, are you absolutely sure about this? And are you sure that Rod can’t handle it on his own?”

  “I’ve already told you! If we leave it to Rod, this wedding isn’t happening. Half that family will be arrested—”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that a good thing? A young man is dead, someone who was a father and probably never even knew it.”

  “Yes, and we’ll tell Rod as soon as we know whose side to be on. Right now, I’m struggling to feel anything close to scorn for Caterina. That poor girl! We have to help her, Nathan!”