Lacey Luzzi Box Set

by Gina LaManna

  Most importantly, I wanted to hear from Anthony. I wanted him back at the house, near me. Having him around helped me maintain a certain calmness, even in the face of emergencies. With him not only gone, but mysteriously unavailable, I felt off, vulnerable. I didn’t like the feeling, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on which part upset me more...that he wasn’t here, or that I didn’t know where he had gone.

  The beep of my phone interrupted my stream-of-shower thoughts. I was done in there anyway, the only thing I was accomplishing at this point was ensuring my skin became a complete prune. I quickly toweled off, reading my new message in the process.

  Anthony: We found a name. Joseph Facelli.

  Me: Just to be clear...who is Joseph?

  I was dressed and ready to find Meg and tell her the news when I received a reply.

  Anthony: The man in your trunk.

  Me: Thanks! How did you find out—

  But I paused and deleted the message. I didn’t think Anthony would tell me, and I also didn’t want to have this conversation via text. Instead, I picked up the phone and dialed. To my dismay, it went straight to voicemail. The girlie part of my brain told me not to text him, to wait until he called me back, but the adult part of my brain told me that playing games was overrated. I want to talk to him, darn it, so I would let him know.

  Me: Thanks for the information. When will you be back? I miss you.

  I didn’t mean to go so far and tell him that I missed him – hello, clingy girlfriend – but I didn’t bother to delete it, either. It was the truth, and he could take it or leave it.

  Anthony: Sorry, can’t talk. I miss you too. Won’t be back til late tonight, one more task to finish up.

  Task? Why on earth was he tasking without me? He wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t called him and filled him in on everything. Carlos hadn’t included him on this assignment, or rather, favor. I sighed. This was another conversation that had no chance of going well over texts.

  Me: What are you doing?

  I sent it before I could stop myself. I needed to test the waters, see what he’d say.

  Anthony: Taking care of a problem. Making sure you’re safe.

  My first reaction was anger. Why did Anthony think I was incapable of taking care of my own problems? If anything, I’d proven more than ever lately that I wasn’t one hundred percent an idiot, one hundred percent of the time. I made mistakes still, lots of them, but I was gaining experience, getting better with each assignment, judging by the fewer number of recent explosions.

  After a minute of furiously swiping on deodorant, I calmed down a notch and considered what was really happening. Anthony was an alpha male, most likely always had been, and I had to remember that he was doing this from the right place in his heart. That he was dealing with problems the only way he knew how. To eliminate them.

  We’d have to talk about exactly how he’d do so in the future, and how he worded his texts to me. Because I didn’t like feeling as if I had no say in the matter. Plus, he could really stand to use a few emojis and smiley faces. Maybe even a heart, now and again.

  With a sigh, I carried my phone to the kitchen, still debating whether I had a good response for his message. I didn’t, not with the things I truly wanted to say. They were too personal for the sterile communication of text messages.

  Instead of responding, I scoured the cupboards for anything to snack on – anything at all, even a peanut shell. My shoulders relaxed and some of the tension eased away, as I reminded myself that Anthony would be back soon. And despite his lack of emoji skills, I never once doubted he cared about me. My initial frustrated emotions dissipated, only to be replaced by a feeling of appreciation. I was lucky.

  Me: Be safe, and hurry back. I can’t wait to see you!

  Even though I was a badass mobsterista (or so I liked to think), I debated over the exclamation mark. Because as tough as I’d become, I was still, first and foremost, just a girl with a heart.

  Chapter 21

  “AHA!” I HAD DISCOVERED a box of old, probably stale Barilla pasta stashed far, far in the dusty back corner of the pantry. “Snack time.”

  I set the box out on the counter, running through an internal debate about what should happen next. As much as my stomach wanted some food, I wanted information even more. I retreated to my room and flopped on the bed – or what was left of the bed – and lay spread-eagle. At this point, the “bed” was more of a mattress floating in a pool of wooden shards, some of which were more pointy than others. Thankfully there was enough cushion between my body and most of the splinters, so I ignored the mess and focused on not listening to the thunderous growls happening in my stomach.

  As difficult as it had been to leave the pasta, I needed to call Clay. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long. If I could get him started with the name, there was a chance he’d have a list of information about the guy by the time my water boiled.

  “Joseph Facelli,” I murmured, “it’s time to find out just how...and why...you ended up in in my vehicle.” Dialing Clay, I was surprised when he picked up on the first ring.

  “Clay?” I spoke first, the reception a bit staticky.

  “You called me, so yes.” Clay sounded distracted, and I could hear a keyboard clack, clack, clacking in the background. “What’s up? How’s vacation?”

  “It’s fine...”

  “Just fine?”

  “Well, some of the relaxation was ruined when my car turned into a crime scene.” The line went quiet, the silence so loud I almost wished Clay had kept typing away. Now I had his full attention. I didn’t like having Clay’s full attention, because that usually meant something had gone terribly wrong.

  “Did you hear about this little development?” Though I hadn’t updated Carlos, that didn’t mean Clay wouldn’t have found out through his other channels. He usually acquired information before I did, even when I was involved.

  “I haven’t...” His voice lilted, a hint of a question in his words.

  “That’s weird. You hear about everything.”

  “Yes, typically I do. Which is why you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

  A few keys clicked away in the background. “I’m sure you’ll see what I’m talking about in a minute...” I waited for Clay to stumble upon the information. By stumble upon, I meant hack into the police scanners and files and pull any reports that might’ve been filed.

  “What the heck?” Clay muttered. “How—? Strange.”

  “Please excuse my mediocre brain for not being able to keep up with you, but could you please expand on any one of those questions?”

  “Well, cousin of mine, you know more than me, for once.”

  “Hey—”

  “Sorry, but it’s true. It’s just...the strange thing is that I can’t find anything about a body up there. What happened, Lacey? I’m hearing neither head nor tail about a murder.”

  I filled Clay in on the series of events, surprised that Anthony hadn’t made contact with him yet, if for nothing else, than for some help getting information. Maybe Anthony had a source up here, someone he was meeting with who could lend a helping hand in the region. I wouldn’t be surprised; Anthony’s network was expansive, and between his and Carlos’s influence in Tonka, I would bet they had some “friends of the Family” nearby.

  “Finding anything?” I asked.

  “Not a peep.” Clay was starting to sound agitated. Information was Clay’s jam. If he couldn’t get it, nobody could. But that also made him very angry. “No name, no date, nothing.”

  “Oh!” I blurted out. “I actually have a name. Joseph Facelli.”

  Clay waited a beat. When he spoke, his voice was stern. “Next time, tell me the name first.”

  “I can hear you grinding your teeth over the phone, Clay,” I said. “Stop it – it’s not good for you.”

  A few click clacks and Clay sucked in a breath. “Joseph Facelli, huh?”

  “You got a hit?” I knew Clay was tempting me, holding the information li
ke a carrot in front of a horse. Even though I’d never truly understood that saying. It would make much more sense to dangle an ice cream cone or a bottle of wine. I know I’d move faster chasing the latter.

  “You’re welcome, cousin.” Clay spoke as if he’d just done me the largest favor in the world.

  “Do you plan on telling me what I should thank you for?”

  “Oh, right. Facelli...let’s see. He was involved with the mob in Chicago, but only fringe. It doesn’t look like he had any luck working his way up the ranks, and he was definitely far from center stage.” Clay read under his breath. “Ouch.”

  “Are you okay? What on earth are you doing online?”

  “Why do you care what I’m doing online?” Clay sounded overly suspicious for such a simple question.

  “What do you mean? You were reading about Facelli, then stopped. You said ouch.”

  “Oh, er. Right. I just meant that it looks like Facelli got in some trouble with the bosses down there. Double crossed them or something. I’m not surprised he moved farther north. In fact, he might have been on his way out of town when someone offed him and stuffed him in your trunk.”

  Clay’d managed a quick cover up, but for the third or fourth time lately, I wondered exactly what Clay was so private about online. Most of the time he liked to proclaim his ventures from the rooftop, showing me every script, code, and wha-zoodle he created. This new, secret Clay had me wondering what he was up to, sneaking around on the Internet.

  I let it drop for now, focusing on the problem at hand. “Any initial gut feelings? You think his own Family ordered a hit on him?”

  “I’m not sure he was even in with a Family. He was a little squirt, kinda reminds me of Alfonso – that one ginger kid who liked to pretend he played with the big boys, but didn’t know what he was getting himself into.” I knew exactly who Clay meant. It was back when Clay had wired me into a gold dress that’d nearly exploded to bits during the strangest wedding ceremony I’d ever witnessed.

  Clay cleared his throat sheepishly, probably remembering the same incident.

  “Couldn’t Carlos just ask around down there? He got his start in Chicago, I’m sure he still has some friends,” I said. The only small problem would be having to tell Carlos about the body, and then finding a good enough reason to explain why we’d waited so long before disclosing a murder on his property.

  “He might...but the Chicago branch might be embarrassed by Facelli, trying to hush things up down there. I think it might be best not to ask in this case and let them lick their wounds in peace.”

  I pursed my lips in thought. “So...he might’ve been up here because he was on the run from his fallout with Chicago. But if not, can you think of any other reason he’d be hanging around this area? More specifically, in my trunk?”

  “That’s what I’m looking for. Wait for it, wait for it...” A few clicks of a mouse, a few strokes of the keys, and Clay was back. “Um, do you know anything about diamonds?”

  “Excuse me?” I rolled over, nearly falling off the bed. Or rather, the sunken mattress. I directed my attention back to the phone. “How did you guess about the diamonds?”

  I could practically hear Clay smiling, puffing his chest out with pride. “I cracked a code.”

  “Since we’ve been talking?”

  “Yes,” Clay said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing, “among other things.”

  I winced. “What sort of other things have you been doing since we’ve been on the phone?”

  “Cripes, Lacey. Why do you have to make everything awkward?”

  “I just—”

  “Never mind. I wrote a quick script to analyze a few bland emails between Facelli and a few other known Family members. My program figured it out in seventy-four seconds.” Clay paused, letting his work dazzle me. When I didn’t comment, he continued, “Looks like Facelli had a diamond running gig the night you discovered his body. Assuming you found him the first night you arrived.”

  “Yep. Out of curiosity, what did the emails say?”

  “That’s not important,” Clay said quickly. “Anyway...”

  “Did the email say, ‘Meet me at 8 p.m. in Tonka for the diamond delivery?’” I asked, with the feeling that Clay might’ve overstated his “code-cracking” abilities.

  “Not quite...” Clay hedged.

  “Then what was it?”

  “Socks. Facelli was trying to set up an order for socks from his buddy.”

  “Good job cracking that masterpiece,” I said with a light laugh. Wanting to keep Clay in good spirits, I pressed on. “Did your script pick up anything else?”

  “Not particularly,” Clay said, sounding a bit stung. “I can’t tell exactly what their plan was, but I’m guessing it was some sort of handoff. Relatively small stuff.”

  “But if Facelli was on the run, why would he go getting involved with something like that?”

  “Maybe he’s even more like Alfonso than we thought.” Clay began speaking more quickly. “Maybe the Chicago bosses had developed an interest in diamonds, some use for them.”

  “And Facelli saw an opportunity to get into their good graces if he could get them the diamonds,” I added.

  “Exactly. Maybe Facelli was trying to redeem himself, to make amends for whatever he did to tick them off in the first place.”

  “That makes sense.” I paused, thinking. “It’s a win-win. Because if he’s not a part of their Family, then there’s no risk for the bosses. If Facelli gets caught, it’s his problem and not theirs. He’s not linked to them.”

  “Right,” Clay agreed. “And if he succeeds, the Family gets their diamonds and Facelli gets a reward. In this case, maybe they spare his life.”

  “That probably means something went wrong.” I thought back to the sour cream on Facelli’s mustache. “But the question is, what?”

  “The question is not what went wrong, Lace. It’s why you?”

  I bit my lip. “I don’t know. I’ve never even been to Chicago. I hadn’t heard about diamonds until this trip...I have no clue.”

  “I don’t believe that it was random. If the Chicago bosses wanted him dead, he’d be gone. Poof. Disappeared. He wouldn’t be found like that.”

  “But it didn’t seem like an amateur hit. The cops couldn’t find fingerprints, boot tracks, nothing. Not to mention, the window of opportunity for someone to kill Facelli and get him into my trunk without making a mistake was pretty small.” I thought back to the evening. “We had visitors not long after we arrived, and I got my pajamas shortly after that. We were in and out all evening, and nobody noticed anything unexpected.”

  “You had company?” I could almost feel Clay’s jaw drop.

  “Yeah, uh...friends of Nora’s.”

  “Lacey, you have got to tell me these things. There’s a murder and strange people showing up at your door, and you don’t even consider the fact they might be related?”

  “Oh, I considered it a few times.” I ran my hand through my hair. I’d been telling the story so many times lately, and it was getting exhausting. “But I don’t think that’s the case.”

  “But you don’t know so.”

  “My gut—”

  “Don’t tell me you trusted your gut!” Clay sounded appalled.

  “What’s wrong with my gut?” I threw my arms up in exasperation. “You and Meg, man. You’ve both given me flack for my gut today.”

  The line fell silent. “Does Anthony know about these guests?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about you put him on the phone, so I can get all of the information?”

  “He’s not here right now...”

  “Are the strange visitors there?”

  “They’re not here either—” I stopped talking, hearing the front door open and the chatter of Italian voices filter through the hallway. “Maybe.”

  Clay sighed. “Get me the names and I’ll run background checks on all of them. But Lacey, next time let me know sooner.”

 
“I will,” I said. “Say, is there anything else? I’ve got to go prepare some dinner.”

  “Be careful,” Clay said. “Because there’s only two reasons I can think of that a body would end up in your car. First, it was a convenient hiding place, which is unlikely. There’s a lake right there which is a whole lot more convenient than staging a crime scene.”

  “What’s the more likely option?” I swallowed hard, not sure I wanted to know.

  “That whoever placed Facelli there is sending a message.” Clay stopped typing, his point punctuated by silence. “And you’re the recipient.”

  “Well, I’m doing my best to keep on the lookout. Meg and I have an appointment to scout out a few suspicious truckers around here, some folks that might have a little something to do with the diamond trafficking in the area.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m bringing Anthony.” Part of me wished I could protect myself without his help, but another part of me was relieved that someone with as much skill and expertise as Anthony would be watching my back.

  “Good. And if you find out names, or any information at all, please, please keep me posted. Names, Lacey. Names would be great.”

  “Names, I can do,” I said. “I’ll call you tomorrow night after karaoke – don’t ask. Anything more I can do for you in the meantime?”

  “Keep your head down and relax. You’re on vacation,” Clay said wryly. “I’ll do more digging on my end and call you with any updates.”

  Chapter 22

  “WHAT’S HAPPENING HERE?” I padded into the kitchen, which appeared to have been made into a set for the latest hit cooking show.

  “We’re setting up a cook-off,” Meg said. “See, these men got lost on the way to the store, which is what took them so long. I see you got your Barilla freeze-dried whatever-the-heck sorta pasta that is there, so I figured we could have a contest. You versus Marco.”

  “No!” I glanced up at the men. “I’m sorry, but we had a deal...you are supposed to be out of here by tonight. It’s already late afternoon, and you should be getting on to a hotel.”