A Purr-fect Storm

by Addison Moore

  Hazel nods. “And I know I’m not related, but it feels as if Lola and Bowie are my sisters, too.”

  Stephanie and I coo at the thought.

  “You can be our sister from another mister anytime, Hazel,” I tell her. “Lottie, let’s get you off your feet and put something delicious inside you.”

  Carlotta snorts. “Famous last words. That’s exactly how she got into this pregnant predicament to begin with.”

  Lottie swats her. “Would you turn down the volume on your inappropriate side?”

  “There is no volume control, Lot.” Carlotta lifts her chin with a touch of pride. “That’s what makes me special.”

  “How about dinner?” I offer. “I’d love to pick both of your special brains concerning those Canelli and Lazzari nuisances we have sniffing around.”

  A tiny laugh bumps from Lottie. “That’s exactly what I was thinking. I did a little homework, and Dom and Enzo both have a business up in Scooter Springs.”

  “How do you like that?” Carlotta clucks her tongue as she gives the cats in her arms a squeeze. “I’ll have you know, I did the heavy lifting when it comes to tracking them down. I’m the one that hightailed it down to Leeds and had a chitchat with Jimmy Canelli. It turns out, his son Dom has a snazzy place called The Hideaway.”

  Lottie nods. “An Italian restaurant with entertainment—think dinner theater. And Enzo is still trying to get his place established. It’s called the Boogey Bungalow and it’s not opened just yet, so the odds are good we can kill two birds with one Italian stone if we hit Dom’s place.”

  “I like how you think,” I tell her. “It looks as if we’re headed to Scooter Springs.”

  We all pile into Carlotta’s minivan and take off for mobster pastures.

  Let’s hope whatever trick Lottie has up her sleeve will get these sleazeballs off our backs. Or in the least, here’s hoping for some decent dinner theater.

  Scooter Springs is rickety, rundown, and yet the nexus of nightlife in the entire state of Vermont.

  The Hideaway has a brand new storefront that looks to be the façade of a crumbling Roman building. Inside, music streams from somewhere to our left, and if I’m not mistaken, it sounds like a live band.

  The foyer, along with the establishment just beyond that, is teeming with people, mostly couples, and we’re quickly seated amongst the melee at a table for six upon Lottie’s request. The interior of this place has dark wood floors, along with tables covered in white linen and dotted with candles. It’s dimly lit with the exception of the spotlight feasted on the stage where a group of older gentlemen serenade us with live entertainment. And in the middle of those four men is a redheaded ghost shaking what her mama gave her to the beat and causing a supernatural ruckus in the process as a steady stream of miniature stars pulsates all around her. Hazel really knows how to shake it.

  Stephanie leans toward Lottie. “Hey, are those two hot men that were arrested the other day back at your mother’s B&B joining us tonight?”

  Carlotta slits her throat with her finger, letting us know we just struck a nerve.

  “Nope.” Carlotta’s shoulders sag. “Foxy and Sexy have been otherwise detained. In fact, I drove Lot Lot up here just to see if I could take her mind off of her troubles for a little while.”

  “We won’t mention it again,” I say as the waitress hands us each a menu. Although now I’m morbidly curious how both her husband and her boyfriend have ended up behind bars. Boy, my bad luck really is far-reaching.

  “Holy cannoli!” Stephanie grunts. “Would you look at these prices?”

  My stomach indulges in a roll of nausea. “How are they getting away with this?”

  “It’s robbery,” Steph grunts.

  “It’s on Lottie,” Carlotta grunts right back with a wink. “Don’t worry, ladies. We can appreciate the fact you’ve fallen on hard times. Lot and I looked up their prices online, and that’s the only reason Lot Lot here isn’t flipping a table, shouting obscenities, and bolting for the minivan.”

  “She’s right,” Lottie says. “This is my treat. We need to do whatever we can to help the two of you remain under the radar. And if that means having it out with a couple of criminals, then so be it. We transmundane girls need to stick together. Besides, Carlotta and I know the Canellis and the Lazzaris pretty well. We practically owe it to you to help.”

  “You don’t owe us a thing,” I tell her. “And thank you for the meal. But we’ll only accept if you promise to come back to the Manor Café sometime and let us ply you with food of our own.”

  Stephanie gives a vigorous nod. “We’ve replicated all of our Nana Rose’s recipes. The lasagna will knock your knickers off. And who knows? You might even get a kick out of a few of her cookies, too.”

  “You’re on,” Lottie says with a smile.

  The waitress comes by and we order nearly half the appetizer offerings. And before the waitress takes off to fill our order, Lottie calls her close with a flick of her finger.

  “And if you don’t mind, we’d love to say hello to Domenico and Enzo if they’re available. Just let them know an old friend of their fathers is here to see them.”

  The waitress agrees to pass along the message before skipping off, and my heart feels as if it just skipped right out of my body along with her.

  “This is nuts,” I say. “Those turkeys hold the keys to my freedom. If I say one wrong word, I could end up in the pokey wearing the most unflattering color on the planet for the next thirty to fifty years.”

  Stephanie shrugs. “They’d probably give you life. But don’t worry. I’d visit every Sunday, at least in the beginning. Once Shep and I get married and have our brood, there won’t be time for any of that.”

  Carlotta nods her way. “You’ll probably want to keep your sister a secret. You know, to protect the kids.”

  “Carlotta.” Lottie shoots the woman a look.

  “Lola.” I do the same to my not-so-sweet sis, but I toss in a bit more of a threat in my inflection. “You are not the one marrying Shep in this scenario.”

  “Fine.” She tosses up her hands. “With a hot commodity like that, I just thought you’d want to keep him in the family. We look alike. He’d probably be thinking of you in bed. Besides, if I don’t snag him, he’s liable to fall under Regina’s spell once again. It’s me or Regina, you decide who gets his brood.”

  “Good grief.” I groan at the thought. “It’s the Sophie’s Choice of relationships, only in this scenario I don’t really want either of them to make it.”

  Lottie titters. “The two of you are hysterical. You’re not going to prison, Bowie. I can promise you that.”

  A couple of shadows darken our table.

  “No one can promise you that, Stella,” a deep voice rumbles from above and the four of us gasp in unison.

  Carlotta bounces to her feet and yanks the culprit into a seat by way of his ear.

  That culprit would be Dom Canelli, and falling into the seat beside him is Enzo Lazzari. Both men have donned dark suits with their shoulders so padded they look as if they’re readying up to play the green for the NFL afterwards. Dom has his signature smirk, and Enzo is the brooding one with the eyes like summer rain.

  Lottie glowers at the two of them. “If it isn’t the gruesome twosome. I’ll have you know I spoke with both of your fathers this afternoon, and neither of them are all too thrilled that you’re shaking down my friend.”

  Dom lifts his nose to her. “And who are you?”

  Carlotta shakes her head faintly at her daughter. “Don’t do it, Lot,” she whispers. “You can be Foxy, and I can be Sexy in this scenario. They don’t need to know our real names. The last thing we need is these two finding out you run the bakery down in Honey Hollow.”

  Lottie closes her eyes a good long while as Dom gives a dark chuckle.

  “So you run the bakery down in HH? What’s the name of that place?” He snaps his fingers toward Enzo.

  “The Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery,” E
nzo doesn’t miss a beat.

  A flash of light erupts to my right as Hazel materializes among us in a blaze of sparkling glory. I covertly pick up Steph’s hand under the table so she can hear the specter among us in the event Hazel wants to add her two cents.

  “What’s happening?” Hazel floats around the table at dizzying speeds. “Have they shaken you down for money? I bet they’ve got the Woodley Sheriff’s Department on speed dial. Or worse yet, they’re ready to call those mobsters that are after you.”

  Stephanie nods my way. “She’s a smart cookie,” she whispers. “Personally, I think it’s door number three.”

  Lottie growls over at the two gnats among us, “You leave my bakery out of this. And you leave these women out of this, too. You have no right to threaten to turn them in to anyone.”

  The appetizers land on the table in record time, and I have a feeling we’re not the only ones living in fear of Dom and Enzo. The staff around here seems to be bending over backwards to please them, too.

  Dom ticks his head to the side. “What happens to these little ladies is for us to decide. But out of respect for our fathers, neither Enzo nor I are gonna touch your bake shop.” He swings those hazel eyes my way. “Taste the food. I want to know your honest opinion.” He waves a waitress over and orders four sampler platters in addition to the feast before us.

  Stephanie and I dive right in. We’ve never been one to turn away a good meal even if it was under duress from a couple of mobsters.

  My sister and I don’t say a word. We simply stuff our faces with the antipasti, the garlic toast with prosciutto and fresh mozzarella, and the spicy bruschetta. Lottie and Carlotta join in on the culinary fun, not to mention the bites Hazel keeps stealing.

  “Oh wow,” Hazel groans hard. “This is really good. But I wouldn’t hint at it or their egos might blow up.”

  That’s what I was thinking.

  Lottie nods my way because she’s thinking it, too.

  The sampler platters arrive, and both Steph and I jump on the lasagna, the pizza, the stuffed shells with meat sauce, veal osso buco, beef braciola, meatballs, baked mostaccioli, and eggplant parmigiana.

  Carlotta belts out another hearty groan. “I can’t stuff another bite down my pie hole.”

  “I can.” Lottie pulls Carlotta’s plate over to hers and starts in right where Carlotta left off.

  “Me too.” Hazel plucks a mostaccioli noodle off Enzo’s plate, and I watch in horror as it floats right up to her lips.

  “What the hell was that?” Dom barks, and I quickly flick a forkful of mostaccioli in Enzo’s direction.

  “That was just me,” I sing. “What can I say? I’m an enthusiastic eater.”

  Carlotta holds up a linen napkin to act as a shield, but Lottie seems to welcome the extra pasta on her plate. I can’t blame her. It’s almost better than mine. Almost.

  “Well, ladies?” Enzo gives Stephanie and me the once-over. “What’s the verdict?”

  “It’s good,” I say as my shoulders jump. “The red sauce was a little bit burnt, and the braciola needs a little more oomph. But I’d say you’re getting there.”

  “Knew it.” Dom sits up as the veins in his neck wiggle like garden snakes. “I thought the exact same thing. I’m going to kill the chef.”

  “No!” both Steph and I shout in unison.

  Hazel waves us off. “Oh, let him do it. I saw the chef, and he’s a hottie. What can I say? I wouldn’t mind a little ghostly company around here.”

  Both Lottie and I take a moment to frown her way. But hey? Who am I to judge?

  “Don’t you harm a hair on that chef’s head,” I don’t hesitate to tell him. “Or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  Dom squints my way. “Would you get a load of this?” He glances to his brother in mobster arms. “Someone has forgotten who’s in the driver’s seat.”

  Stephanie huffs at the thought. “I’m in the driver’s seat. Now, which of you boys wants to ride with me?”

  Carlotta leans in. “And I’ll take her leftovers. But before we get freaky on the dance floor, let’s get one thing straight.” She points hard at Dom. “I dated your dad. In fact, Lot Lot here was almost your sister, and who knows? Maybe she is.” She bumps her shoulder to Lottie. “And you”—she growls over at Enzo—“the things I did to your daddy were perfectly illegal on all seventeen continents.”

  “Seven,” Lottie corrects.

  A sickly moan comes from Enzo. And come to think of it, Dom has gone white as a sheet of pasta himself.

  Enzo lifts a brow before turning back to Steph and me. “Listen, the truth is, we haven’t decided what to do with you girls just yet.”

  “Tell you what.” Dom sheds a short-lived smile, the kind you give to someone right before you arrange for them to stop breathing. “You and your friends enjoy a nice meal on us tonight. And once Enzo and I decide what kind of payment we’re going to require—to keep your little secret, of course—we’ll get back to you.” He lands his hands onto the table and leans in hard. “Now, what can I do to improve these dishes? I really want them to sing as if they were made in the old country. I’m trying hard here, but I think I need a little more direction.”

  Lottie strums her fingers over her glass. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t the two of you look the other way with Bowie and Lola, and maybe in return they’ll give your chef a few tutorials?” She shrugs my way, and I nod.

  “What she said.” I kick Stephanie in the shin, and soon she’s nodding her head right along with me until we look like a couple of bobblehead dolls.

  “Nah,” Dom is quick to poo-poo the idea. “I’ll get back to you on what we decide. I’ll give the chef another shot to get it together, right before I blow his head off.” He leans my way. “And if you don’t go along with what we ask, it’s okay.” He shrugs. “I’ll just put a call in to someone who I’m sure is interested in my friendship with you. I believe his name is Johnny Rizzo.”

  I suck in a breath so fast and violent, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the garlic bread on this table just ended up in my lungs.

  A tiny whimper emits from my sister at the mention of my notorious ex.

  “In the meantime”—a dangerous smile flickers on Dom’s lips—“we know where to find you ladies. Now, who wants to dance?”

  “Ohh, me.” Steph is quick to eschew all the threats and get her groove on.

  Honestly? I expected nothing less. She’s never been one to turn down a good time or a hot body. It’s her kryptonite.

  “Not without me, sister.” Carlotta springs out of her seat as well. “Dibs on Canelli Junior. Let’s see whatcha got, boy.” She grabs ahold of him while Steph hitches herself to Enzo, and the next thing you know they’re tripping the lights fantastic with the best of them.

  Hazel Newton’s ghost lets out a roar. “That monster just threatened to get your ex on the horn, Bowie. Don’t you dare let him get away with this behavior. What are you going to do?”

  Lottie offers me a forlorn look. “Don’t worry, Bowie. Whatever you decide we’ll do it together. I’m not going to let the Canellis or the Lazzaris terrorize you like this.”

  “Thank you, Lottie. I appreciate that. I’ll let you know what goes down, but for now”—I pull forth the platter still brimming with food our way—“mangia.”

  Lottie Lemon and I knock out every crumb on that table, and we order up every dessert this place has to offer to boot.

  Dom and Enzo just threatened to take down my world like a house of cards.

  My body is threatening indigestion.

  And the budding rage inside me is threatening revenge.

  Dom, Enzo, and whoever killed Frisk Foster, none of you are getting away with anything.

  Chapter 7

  Johnny Rizzo.

  All night and well into the next day my mind perseverated on my wily ex. The dirty rat is the very reason I’m on the run.

  It was his harebrained idea to siphon off a portion of the money we were supposed to b
e washing for the Moretti family. Johnny wasn’t just a lousy mastermind, he was a long time cheat that I just so happened to put up with for reasons still unknown to me. Maybe it’s because I saw that was the way my father treated my mother, or maybe it was all a part of some long-standing dysfunctional pattern that just kept repeating itself because somewhere down the line we just accepted that’s the way things were, but nevertheless, I had let that greasy thug run me and my reputation into the ground.

  And yet in an off sort of way, I owe him everything. If I weren’t on the run, I would never have come to Starry Falls. I wouldn’t have met Shepherd Wexler, the love of my life. I wouldn’t have this newfound relief that I didn’t have to fit into some mobster-issued mold anymore.

  I’m finally free.

  But don’t get me wrong. I won’t be penning a thank you letter to Johnny just yet. In fact, I hope to never see him again in this life or the next.

  So, in an effort to push him out of my mind, I’m instating Tilly and Stephanie to help me track down Wendy Manning. It took less than ten minutes for Tilly to figure out that the Mannings who own Nat and Joe’s Ice Skating Pond out at the edge of Starry Falls were related to Wendy. It was through Wendy’s own Insta Pictures feed that we learned she would be spending the rest of the day there.

  Opal happened to waltz into the café with an armful of cats just as the three of us were heading off to pile into my car and she jumped in with us, citing the fact she was the ice skating champion of the Vermont Winter Classic when she was just a wee one.

  I didn’t want to be the one to tell her that her body may not be as lithe and limber as when she was a wee one, but I’m hoping they’ll offer to give her a chair, or a walker to brace herself with while on the ice. Come to think of it, I’m going to need the very same thing.

  Nat and Joe’s Ice Skating Pond is flourishing with bodies this late afternoon. Perky music streams from the shoddy speakers up above, and there’s a refreshment stand where they’re selling hot cocoa and cider.