Lacey Luzzi: Sauced: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 4) Read online

  “Lacey, dear. Hello,” he said in an exquisite English accent.

  I gave him a warm smile; I couldn’t help it, even in my self-pitying mood. Harold made everyone happier as a general rule. He carried peppermints for the kids, doled out jokes for the adults, and most importantly, pretended that the Luzzis were a normal, functional family unit.

  I reached out and gave him a hug. “Hey, Harold. It’s great to see you.”

  “And you, Lacey. Are you here for business or pleasure?”

  “Am I ever here for pleasure?” I asked.

  “Oh, Lacey,” Harold chuckled. “I’ve missed your humor.”

  “I can see why, what with these guys marching around.” I thumbed over my shoulder at one of the guards passing us by. The uniformed man had a stern look on his face, and I knew that if I said hello, he would ignore me. “Why they gotta be so serious?”

  “You know Carlos,” Harold said with a sigh. “Runs a tight ship.”

  I frowned. “Is Carlos being nice to you?”

  “Yes, yes of course. I just wonder if his stormy mood lately has anything to do with your meeting today.”

  “Oh, great,” I groaned. “Just what I like to hear.”

  “Good luck, dear.” Harold gave a much tighter smile than before. “Will you be coming to the barbecue this year?”

  I shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  I waved goodbye to Harold as we parted ways, he heading towards the front door, I waltzing straight towards the lion’s den. I glanced up, noticing for the hundredth time that this particular lion had outfitted his lair with the best stained glass windows that Rome had to offer. I made my way through the Grand Entryway, past a large, marble staircase dressed in deep, regal carpeting. I walked at a quick clip past the statues that may or may not have once lived in the Vatican, and followed a narrow, cozier hallway towards the kitchen.

  Whereas the Grand Entryway was sterile and fancy, this hallway was much more personal. Nora had taken over the decoration helm and tacked up a variety of “Wanted” style posters – all containing bright, smiling Luzzi faces. Interspersed between soccer trophies and baseball medals hung an alarming array of arrest warrants. The lesser “accomplished” Luzzis were represented with a few parking tickets, one or two disorderly conduct citations, and even a snow emergency warning.

  The final frame on the wall held my most important life accomplishment – the eighth grade spelling bee certificate that declared me a champion. I had some catching up to do on Nora’s Hallway of Fame, or rather her Hallway of Infamy. Maybe I could have Meg steal an unused arrest warrant and photoshop my face onto it. I was too much of a chicken to actually get arrested. Except for that one time when I’d met Blake…

  A heavy, mahogany door marked the end of the corridor. I pressed my fingers firmly against the outside, and it swung easily open, displaying the sturdy version of a picnic table we used for informal meals. At one end of the table sat Carlos with a glass of limoncello before him. A dangerous plate of cookies lay directly in the center of the table. The plate sat next to an iPad, its screen glowing from recent use.

  I sensed an air of discontent hanging about the room even as I stepped through the door. The iPad had caused some arguments historically, and I wondered if this wasn’t one of those times.

  “Oh, hello, Lacey dear,” Nora said, bustling over from her post at the kitchen stove. My grandmother did more wine-sipping than cooking in the kitchen, and it definitely showed in her often inedible meals. But she’d be darned if one of the mansion’s many staff members served her husband. “So happy to see you, darling! I’m just preparing a snack.”

  I uneasily eyed the cookies as Nora whisked me into a cushy hug. Her apron smelled of olive oil and basil, not an unpleasant scent, which had me wondering if she’d been taking cooking classes.

  “The cookies look great,” I lied.

  Carlos glanced at the biscotti, before he slowly met my eyes and gave the smallest shake of his head. A thrill shot through my veins, starting with my toes and ending at the tips of my fingers. This may have been the greatest moment to date in my relationship with Carlos; he and I were bonding over my grandmother’s hard-as-cement cookies. He was on my team.

  My grandfather, head of the Italian Mob in St. Paul, was a small guy with skinny legs and a thick torso. His hair was graying in a ridiculously classy way, and his suit was pressed just so. He wore only the finest imported materials, and he had a shoe collection that Dolce and Gabbana would envy. The man was pure intimidation and power, and his head shake in my direction had been a major bonding moment in both our personal and professional relationships – I was sure of it.

  So sure, in fact, that I walked towards him confidently. In addition to the traditional cheek kisses, I leaned in and gave him a nice, juicy hug.

  “What are you doing?” Carlos’s voice could only be described as a growl. “Get off.”

  “Sorry. Sorry, sir. Er – grandfath – Carlos, man,” I stuttered, backing away. Feeling incredibly awkward, I reached for the cookies to give my hands something to do. Huge mistake.

  “Carlos, a hug from your granddaughter is not a sign of weakness,” Nora chided. “You know, asking for help sometimes is a good thing.”

  I looked back and forth between them, not sure what I’d walked in on. I sensed a leftover argument hanging in the air that hadn’t quite run its course.

  Nora turned to me, dropping her icy tone for a warmer one. “Lacey, you must try those cookies. It’s a new recipe.”

  “Oh, wonderful.” I gave a fake smile and sat down at the table, my eye scanning the room for the moment Nora turned her back. When I saw my chance, I quickly slid the cookie from my hand back onto the plate. “So, what’s up?”

  “It’s Carlos with the iPad, again,” Nora said, a sigh lining her words. “I ask him for one tiny piece of advice, and what does he say?”

  “I said the fireworks are illegal, Nora,” Carlos grumbled. “You can’t buy illegal fireworks on The Google.”

  “You can do everything on The Google,” Nora said. “Even Marissa and Clarissa say so, and they’re young. They’re tuned into the hip things.”

  “Hey, you know what? I know a little bit about Googling,” I said. “I can help.”

  Carlos and Nora stared at me.

  “What do you know about, dear?” Nora asked.

  “Googling. It’s like...the verb of Google.”

  More blank stares.

  “She’s not as young as the girls,” Nora said, dropping her voice low and speaking to Carlos.

  “I can hear you,” I whispered loudly. “And I know how to use The Google. What do you need help with?”

  Nora cracked a huge, hearty smile. “I’m trying to buy some real butt-kickin’ fireworks.”

  I swallowed. “The ones that take off from the ground and explode in the sky?”

  “Well, what other kind?” Nora asked. “Of course. The rainbow ones, the twirly whirlies. I really like me some chandelier spiralies.”

  “Those are illegal,” I said.

  “So?” Nora looked around. “That hasn’t stopped anyone in this house from doing anything for the last fifty years.”

  I looked helplessly at my grandfather. She had a point.

  “Nora, we can’t have anything traced back to us. If you buy illegal fireworks from Mexico with your credit card on The Google, they can trace it back to us,” Carlos said.

  “No way, José,” Nora said. “The Google is a safe place. I read it on one of them buttons before you put in your credit card information. You know, I’ve met some really nice people over the Internet. There was the Prince of India, and I tell you, his daughter was plumb kidnapped. And you know what? We were such good friends, he came to me for help.”

  My jaw fell open. “Nora, you didn’t...”

  “Of course I did! What was I supposed to do, let the girl die? And he never even emailed me back a thank you for sending him the money he asked for. I mean, jeez louise. Seven thousand dollar
s used to at least get you a thank you note. I was looking forward to a postcard from India. One with an elephant on it, maybe.” She shook her head. “People these days.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to tell Nora that the chances she’d rescued young Indian royalty were slimmer than zero. It was probably closer to negative two percent. But she wouldn’t miss seven grand, so instead of bursting her happiness bubble, I instead made a mental note to discuss this con man with Clay, my favorite cousin and computer whiz. He’d not only be able to get Nora’s money back, but he’d get it back with significant interest, as well as pain and suffering costs. Costs that were determined by him, of course, and not a court of law.

  “Wow, that’s just great,” I said. “So thoughtful. You’re a life saver.”

  “Absolutely,” Nora said. “I just love The Google. Brings so much goodness into the world. Anyway, I want some fireworks, and Carlos won’t help me get them. Can you help a sister out?”

  I paused, wondering if that was another piece of slang she’d learned from my two young cousins. “Carlos does have a point. The Internet isn’t always the safest place to put your credit card.”

  Nora frowned. “My credit card is already on the Internet. Everybody asks for it. I thought The Google needed my credit card to run.”

  Carlos’s eyes rolled to the ceiling, and I made another mental note for Clay, except this time, it was to have him set up security on Nora’s computer – to protect her from herself.

  “I’ll ask Clay,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure that if you buy a bunch of illegal fireworks, there’s a chance someone will be able to trace it to your computer.”

  “But they’re gonna have to come into this estate first, and that won’t happen,” Nora said with a pout. “Carlos will protect me. He always protects me.”

  Carlos looked relatively proud, and again, I didn’t have the heart to burst their happiness bubble. But if Clay could steal money from the Prince of India, the government could trace a measly little fireworks purchase from a credit card that was all over the Internet.

  “Nora, could we please have a moment?” Carlos asked his wife. “I need to speak with Lacey about something in private.”

  “We shouldn’t keep secrets in this house.” Nora jutted her chin out. “I told you I wanted some illegal fireworks, why can’t you say whatever you’re going to say in front of me?”

  Carlos sighed. “It’s business.”

  “Well, I’m family.” Nora stuck a hand on her hip.

  I stayed as far out of the conversation as I could – physically, mentally, and spiritually.

  “I was hoping to make it a surprise,” Carlos said, opening his hands as if asking forgiveness. “I wish you didn’t ask...”

  Nora gasped, and her eyes filled with excitement in the fastest emotional switch I’d ever seen. “Ohh, Carlos! You’re buying me the fireworks, aren’t you? You just didn’t want to help me because you wanted it to be a surprise. What a dear.”

  I gave a half-smile as Nora bustled over to her husband, wiping her hands on her apron and planting the biggest of smooches on his cheeks. “Thank you, darling. I’m sorry I raised my voice. Lacey, you watch now – this is true love. Take notes.”

  I nodded. “You two are the perfect picture of love. Nothing says love more than…illegal Mexican fireworks.”

  Nora clasped her hands, taking turns catching Carlos and me in her gaze. “Lacey, I mean it. Get a pen and start taking notes right now. Very quickly. You’re nearing the ripe old age of—”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “Please don’t remind me.”

  Ugh, thirty. The number loomed before me like a giant, steaming—

  “Lacey, darling, you’re not writing anything down.” Nora looked quite concerned. “I mean it. If you don’t find a man, your ovaries will shrivel up like raisins.”

  I winced. “That’s gross.”

  “Well...” Nora tsked once or twice, but Carlos shot her a gaze that looked kind of like: Get the heck out of here. But really, was probably more along the lines of: Loving wife of mine, please give us a moment of privacy. Carlos was just a bit rough around the edges, even if he meant well.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I’ll just go fetch more wine.” Nora gave us a wink. “Have fun, you two.”

  “Will do.” I gave a small wave as she walked through the door.

  “Lacey—” Carlos started, but didn’t get the chance to finish.

  Nora popped her head right back in the door. “I like the whirly twirlies in red, darling,” she said. “Just to be clear. And chandeliers in gold.”

  I gave her the thumbs up, a smile frozen on my face until we heard her footsteps clicking down the hall. Way down the hall.

  Carlos tilted his head in the direction of the door, seemingly listening for a sign his wife might pop back in the kitchen. When enough time had passed, he cleared his throat.

  “You’re not buying her fireworks, are you?” I asked.

  “No, quite the opposite.” Carlos took a sip of his limoncello. “I need your help.”

  I gave a wry smile. “Great. Just in time for the Fourth of July barbecue.”

  “Perfect,” Carlos said, missing any hint of underlying sarcasm in my voice. “Because this one is a challenging task.”

  “Oh, great.”

  “I believe you can complete it, however, with a bit of help and guidance.”

  “Guidance from who?” I asked. Carlos had never directly asked me to work with anyone before. Sure, he’d assigned people (Anthony) to babysit me, and he’d used me to get at Clay during the period of time when the two weren’t speaking. Aside from those instances, I’d been left to fend for myself out in the wild.

  “Anthony will be working with you on this case. Directly,” Carlos said. “And that is an order.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “He’s not babysitting me again, is he? If so, I’m not doing it. I don’t need the money that bad.”

  “Yes, you do need the money that badly,” Carlos said.

  “True. But I won’t be happy about it if he’s around just to micromanage.”

  “Has Anthony ever micromanaged you?”

  I wiggled a bit in my chair. “No.”

  “Have you ever not enjoyed working with Anthony?”

  Was this a loaded question? I paused. Sometimes Anthony annoyed me, yes. Sometimes he teased me ‘til I wanted to punch him in the face or take him to bed – one or the other. Sometimes he protected me when I didn’t need protecting at all. But if I was being truly honest with myself and Carlos, then no, I didn’t mind working with him. Anthony was a professional; he was skilled and capable at oh-so-many things. Some things I knew about, and others, well – the other things I’d only dreamt about.

  “I take that as a no,” Carlos said, with a knowing glance at my silence.

  “He’s, uh, professional. And good – er, at his job.” I blushed a bit, but thankfully Carlos was too distracted pouring himself a refill of the bright yellow liquid to notice. I suddenly wanted a glass of limoncello. However, one hadn’t been offered and, quite frankly, I didn’t dare ask.

  “Wonderful. Then you will receive more detailed instructions from Anthony,” Carlos said.

  “Is that it?” I glanced around. “Would you like me to go now?”

  “Sit,” Carlos said. “I’m not finished. I’ll give you a quick overview of the case.”

  “May I?” I scrounged up the courage to gesture to the bottle of limoncello sitting on the table.

  “No,” Carlos said. “I make this liqueur from scratch. When you get married, I will make you and your husband a bottle.”

  “What if I don’t want to get married right away?” I asked. “I’m still young.”

  “You’re how old?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I grumbled. “Why do you care so much about when I get married, anyway?”

  “I don’t much care,” Carlos said. “However, Nora does. And my happiness depends directly on hers.”

  I gave an unde
rstanding nod. “Ah.”

  “So. I must speak with you now about fireworks.” Carlos said, steepling his fingers in front of his lips.

  “You are buying her illegal fireworks,” I said. “Aha! That actually is pretty cute.”

  “No.” Carlos shook his head. “The case is regarding illegal fireworks.”

  “What?” My mouth hung open a bit. “Was that what all this was about with Nora? Does she know anything about it?”

  “Absolutely not,” Carlos said. “And she won’t find out about it, do you hear me?”

  I nodded. “What about fireworks, then?”

  “There is an infusion of them in the Cities,” Carlos said. “Shipments are arriving by the masses. I need you to find out who is bringing them here and where they are being kept.”

  “Oh, uh. All right then.” I paused, waiting to see if there was more explanation.

  “This needs to happen before the barbecue,” Carlos said. “It is of the utmost importance and safety to our Family.”

  I leaned an elbow on the table. “I have a question.”

  “Good for you.” Carlos stared deadpanned at me.

  I ignored his – was that even a real attempt at humor? “Why? Why do you care about fireworks?”

  Carlos gave the subtlest nod, and I took it to mean his approval. “That is a good question to be asking. Why do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “No offense, but I don’t quite see why the most powerful man in the Cities would care, let alone bother dealing with the issue. It’s not the breaking of the law that bothers you, clearly.” I clasped a hand over my mouth, but Carlos didn’t seem fazed at my slip of the tongue. “It also doesn’t seem like it’s enough money to get you involved. Usually you don’t step in until the million dollar price tag hits.”

  “Good.” Carlos sipped his drink and gave no signs he’d take over the reins of the conversation.

  “So, it has to be a different reason. A personal reason, or a threat to the Family,” I concluded.

  “Very good,” Carlos said. “It is the latter. I have a trusted source who has informed me that the influx of fireworks is not, as one might think, a simple childish prank or just someone looking to sell illegal fireworks at a markup and turn a quick profit. If that were the case, I would not be involved.”