Dead and Disorderly (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 2) (16 page)

Mags continued her reading, paying no attention to her as she turned the next card over, the six of cups. Reunions, family memories, togetherness, probably referring to her getting to meet Nico’s family, it was a prospect that scared the bejesus right out of her. Having never gotten to that point in a relationship before, she had no idea what was expected of her or how it would work out. As such, she felt out of control and helpless, two feelings that made her nuts.

She turned the last card and snorted out a sarcastic laugh. The Queen of Swords, Nico’s mother, clearly. Only it was upside down, which meant an overly emotional woman, bitchy and mean. Not what she’d wanted to see at all, and yet all she’d feared. Maybe this time, the cards would be wrong. They were cards, pieces of paper with pictures printed on them, and not anything more.

That thinking, however, did not prevent her from doing something odd, something from which she normally would have refrained. She turned over one last card, one more shot in the dark, playing Blackjack with the universe one last time. Nine of wands, upright. She blew out a deep sigh, feeling the stress lift from her, if only for a moment. It was the card of perseverance, courage, a test of faith, and ultimately resilience.

Mags’ hum of amusement brought Nahia’s eyes to hers, seeing her smirking into her tea cup. “Quite the rollercoaster. Thought you were going to set them on fire for a moment there.”

She chuckled and put the cards away, wrapping them in their velvet and replacing them in the box. “Thought about it, but I don’t think insurance covers karmic interventions.” The two women laughed out loud until the bell over the front door jingled a moment later, signaling a customer.

The customer was the first of several as the morning progressed, the increased traffic due to the coming solstice, or Litha, as it was called. She had to get ready herself, but it was a couple weeks away and she still had time. Besides, her plate was unbelievably full right now.

As she handed back the change to the last customer in line, she remarked lightly, “So I’m going back to the house tonight.”

Mags’ whole face wrinkled in concern, making her look like an angry pug, not a good look. “I’m sorry? I thought you had to deal with Nico’s grandmother situation.”

She nodded. “I do, I just want to explore the garage and overhead apartment first.” The need for answers had become too strong to ignore.

“And hope Mr. McMeanAss is going to be confined to the house? You’re taking a huge risk there.” She disappeared into the back to pour herself another round of tea; apparently she felt she needed the fortification.

Nahia grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and cracked the lid. “I’m gonna hit it tonight and figure out the attraction.”

Mags stuck her head around the corner so she could look into the shop from the back, and Nahia could see her dipping her steel mesh tea ball into her cup. “I can tell you what the attraction is. It’s the forbidden, it’s the one place on the property you haven’t been, and it may or may not be as haunted as the house itself.”

Nahia hopped up onto the stool and paged through the random gossip rag Mags had left up there. “All good reasons, but that’s not it.” She waited until her friend returned and took her normal seat on the counter with her back to the rest of the room. “There is something there, beyond McManus. Something I need to find, that I need to see. I don’t know what it is, but it’s there, and I
will
find it.”

Mags opened her mouth a couple times to rebut the argument, finally settling on sipping her steaming tea like a snarly old biddy. “Tell me you’re taking someone with you,” she grumbled.

Shaking her head, she didn’t look up from reading. “Rollin’ solo.”

The redhead was off the counter and in her face before she had time to breathe. “The hell you are. I don’t have to tell you why that’s an awful idea. Find someone or take me.”

Seeing she was getting nowhere with her friend, she closed the magazine with a sigh, looking into immensely irritated green eyes. “Fine.” She wasn’t going to make Mags go with her, but she’d at least try to find someone to back her up, because she hated lying to a friend, especially one who made her living as a psychic. That had failure written all over it.

Nico’s morning had been one for the books. After a quick trip home, it had started with an act of kindness, something about the image in the warehouse the day before that plagued his mind. His classmate, and somewhat friend, holding his lover in his arms as she bled heavily from a gunshot wound. It was the kind of stuff Scorsese had built a career on, intense, and possibly scarring. Enough so, that he showed up at the woman’s hospital room armed with two cups of coffee— one for him and Sean— and a vase full of hot pink flowers he’d picked up from the gift shop.

Sean’s woman, Ellie, was a sweet girl, very polite and gracious, with a sarcastic sense of humor once they worked past their initial mutual shyness. It was her laughter that had woken up her sleeping boyfriend, who’d apparently crashed in a chair at her bedside the night before. Her jealous boyfriend, though he didn’t even begrudge him that. Nico knew his personal score was outstripped by his reputation, but that was neither the time nor place to defend either.

He’d stayed just a little while more, long enough to give his gift of caffeine before heading over to Ianucci’s to meet with the family and help them out. If that meant waiting tables and tending bar, he didn’t care; he just wanted to be near them. His plan in place was to work until noon and then head west to the airport to pick up his family and bring them all back with him.

It was a neverending, compounding list of things he needed to do, but at least his lieutenant had been understanding and given him a few extra days beyond the regular bereavement. Nigel had groused and carried on, but only for show, and had been very cool about his partner’s sudden absence. He’d been so kind, Nico feared he may have to break out the good scotch once this was all over.

And then there was Nahia. He’d awakened with her as he had more than once, tangled limbs and temptingly soft skin, her hair doing its level best to smother him. He thought about rousing her before he left, but found he couldn’t bear to disturb her. Nico sighed and bused another table, taking the tray of dishes back to the kitchen. He had it bad for her, and though it hadn’t been that long, everything about their entanglement smacked of permanence. It was like his brain had been reprogrammed without his knowledge or permission, but he couldn’t be moved to care.

It wasn’t until the door to the bar side of the restaurant opened and a familiar collection of silhouettes filled it, wreathed in afternoon sunlight, that he finally followed his thoughts to their logical conclusion. His family was here. His highly Catholic family. His Nahia was here. His semi-retired witch Nahia. And more likely sooner than later, both halves of his life would converge. He wiped his hands on a towel and tossed it over his shoulder before pasting on a grin to disguise the bottom dropping out of his stomach and greeting the newest restaurant patrons. “Ma, Nonna, I thought I was supposed to come get you.” Two words:
Oh, dear.

Nahia left the store early that afternoon, with Mags promising to lock up when she left and to look after it tomorrow so she could attend the funeral with Nico. She was always grateful to have a friend and tenant who was so helpful when she needed it. It was hard running a business by herself, and she was proud to say she managed and did so well, but help was always appreciated.

Her gratitude only fueled the guilt she felt at lying to her friend. She was on her way to the house, without backup and with only the barest hints of a plan. She’d packed well, with more than a couple protective talismans and some other goodies that weren’t standing gear for a hunt, but thought she might need anyway. It was going to have to come to her, because she was like the tree down by the river, and not gonna move.

Waiting until the street was clear of cars to make her turn was difficult during the day on Meridian Street, but she managed, and pulled her cute little blue Fiat around to the garage in the back of the house. It was as adorable as it was conspicuous, and not really given to clandestine adventures, but it’s not like she’d had time to lay groundwork. This was a time sensitive affair, and she was going to get it done.

The architecture of the garage matched the house, with beautifully Gothic stonework and masonry, three glass doors for showing off the previous owners’ collection of cool cars, and murals. In each of the two car bays was a mural on the back wall, hand-painted and hauntingly beautiful. She needed a closer look.

After attempting to lift each of the doors and having no luck, she devoted her time to the door on the side at the bottom of a staircase that led to the upstairs. That would be her next stop if this attempt failed, though it had next to no cover from the possible prying eyes of the neighbors. The door was a standard back door, heavy wood, six panes of glass in the top half. Looking over her shoulder and around, she made sure she was still unnoticed by the neighbors, though the heavily verdant landscaping definitely helped.

Nahia knelt by her bag, pulling out an expired credit card and starting to work on the door knob. It had been a long time since she’d tried this method, and her skills were a little rusty. The prickling sensation of being watched from the house didn’t help, and yet every time she turned around, all she saw were black windows. Her eyes went to the upstairs window, the room where they’d been held briefly, and for a moment, she thought she saw a figure there, but then it dissipated.

“If you’re feeling froggy, go ahead and leap, my friend,” she growled as she tried to work the card between the escutcheon plate of the lock and the door frame. In the backpack was a roll of masking tape she’d use to muffle her punching out a window as a last resort if necessary, but she’d hoped to not destroy any property today. So far, it was just entering, without the breaking part.

From behind her, a beam fell over her hands, bright like from an LED flashlight. “And just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Her hands froze in place, on the card and on the knob. She rose slowly to her feet and turned with both hands out, in case she was wrong about the voice. “Breaking and entering, what does it look like?”

Nigel put his flashlight away with a frown. “You know, I stopped by the store to see how you and Nico were doing, and I ran into Mags. Imagine my surprise to find her behind the counter instead of you, and then, she tells me you’re here.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and gave her his most disappointed look. “No phone call? Nothing?”

Nahia looked him over and then knelt on ground and started working on the door again. “Hush. This is a clandestine mission, hence the secrecy part. Hold the light up, would you?”

His sigh was much aggrieved, and the beam of light reappeared on the brushed steel knob. “Fine. So why are you here? And what about McManus?”

“There’s something in here that I gotta see, I don’t know what yet. And so far he’s stayed at the house. If he’s smart, he’ll stay there and let me poke around. He doesn’t want what I’ve brought with me.” She tapped her pocket absently and continued her diligent working of the lock.

“I thought coming back here was too dangerous.” He toed the ground next to him, the beam from his flashlight bobbing with every move.

“Someone bought the house and plans to renovate it.” She paused to give her fingers a moment to rest so they didn’t cramp, and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the heel of her hand. Looking up from where she knelt, she saw her friend, in his white dress shirt and sedately striped tie, looking closer to GQ than Ghostbusters and sighed before she laid it out for him. “I can’t think of anything more dangerous than unsuspecting people going into that house with McManus and some power tools, can you?”

Nigel rolled his head around his shoulders and cleared his throat a couple times before sighing in resignation. He nodded, and she turned back to the lock with renewed purpose. A couple more nudges, and the lock on the doorknob gave, the handle turning with ease. “Hell yeah.”

“You know, when you get like this, you scare the hell out of me.”

Nahia stood with her pack and slung it over her shoulder. “Like this?” She held the door for him and gestured for him to precede her into the stale darkness of the garage. Her flashlight was out, as was the pouch in which she kept her salt. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she knelt and poured a thin strip along the threshold. Nobody and nothing was getting in, or leaving, without her say so.

Nigel hummed, in either disapproval or concern, she didn’t know. “Like the world better move ‘cause you’re coming through, and God help whomever stands in front of you.”

The corner of her mouth kicked up into a grin, yeah, that sounded about right. “I love that you know how to use the accusative case in English.” She hit the button on her flashlight and illuminated the path in front of her. They were in the first bay. Empty, oil-stained concrete, work benches along the wall with empty rusted former toolboxes and mounted clamps. Her beam fell on the wall, and they both gasped. It was a mural, full color and beautifully hand rendered, of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, complete with people and foliage. It was breathtaking, and so out of place she didn’t know where to start.

“What in the hell are we doing here, Nye?” Nigel’s voice was full of apprehension. His flashlight bounced over the picture, left to right like he was reading it. When he finished his examination, they both saw the signature at the same time. “Who the hell is Aurelio?”

She thought back to the stuff Nico had brought her from the department, and while the name sounded familiar, the heat made her brain slow. “Sounds familiar but I can’t place it. We’ll keep looking.” She rubbed her forehead with the inside of her wrist, feeling grimy and sticky already, though they’d only been there a short time. It was hot as all Hades in there, and her back underneath her pack was already drenched.

There was nothing else in the room to hold their interest, so they walked through an open door into the next bay. Another bank of workbenches and another unbelievably beautiful mural. This one was a rooftop view of Rome. Hand colored, perfectly shaded for late afternoon sun, it bore the same artist signature. “Why have murals in a garage?”

“As a display, maybe? French cars over there, Italian in here, German in the next?” She turned to face him, her flashlight beam in his face making him throw up a hand. “What? It’s just a suggestion.”

She hummed in irritation, the incongruity of the beautiful art inside a damn garage. The duo continued to the next room, finding, instead of the Brandenburg Gate as she expected, it was building she couldn’t quite recognize. Still lovingly rendered in extreme detail, all she could tell was that the Union flag flew atop it. “Which one is this?”

Her best friend snorted derisively. “And you call yourself an Anglophile.”

Nahia looked at him sharply, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Save the sarcasm. What’s the building?” She was close enough to the wall to see detail of the people in trench coats, toting umbrellas, their reflections on the street and the passing lorries.

“Windsor Castle. Why?”

She looked around the room, stepping over to shine her light through the other doorways. “It just strikes me as strange to see that much loving detail, almost a personal level of detail, in a garage. Around all this grime and muck and whatnot. It’s a waste, it’s a tragedy, it’s—” Her musings were interrupted by a cold blast of air that rushed past the both of them, freezing her words on her lips. Her eyes darted to Nigel, who looked stupefied.

He’d been around her long enough and on enough hunts to know where this was headed, and after shaking off the shock, he unzipped the pouch she kept her recorder in and fired it up. At her look, he grinned sheepishly. “I figure it can’t hurt, right?”

They turned toward the last doorway, darkened and leading upstairs, like the stairs outside. All her instincts on high alert, she hazarded a look at her friend, who had the recorder in one hand and his pistol out and by his side in the other. “You ready?”

“Would it matter if I said no?” His voice shook slightly, even though the words were laced with humor.

“Not in the slightest. Let’s go.”

Even in her late 50s, his mother was a beautiful woman, Nico mused from about five people down the table from her. Five foot eight; she was a statuesque woman with a fall of silver streaked black. His whole life, she’d been the image of beauty by which all were judged, though it wasn’t simply reserved to her looks. Her kindness and compassion, her sharp wit and intelligence, and her capacity to love were all things he relied on without question.

She had come with his dad, his Nonna and her boytoy, a distinguished looking Irishman of a young 75, and his younger sister Jules, though probably just to get away from his other two sisters and their meddling in her personal life. They all sat in the main dining room with the extended Ianucci/Scarpino/Luchese family. With so many people packed into the place, they’d had to open up the upstairs dining room as well, just to appease the fire marshal who’d shown up to pay his respects, too.

He looked at his watch, knowing Nahia was still at the store for another couple hours, but he didn’t mind, since that meant he got to catch up with the people who knew him best.

Peter raised his glass in a toast to his mother that had everyone in the room sniffling, and more than one person stepped outside for fresh air and a smoke. The sadness of the occasion was going to make quite a dent in the bar stock, but no one really cared right now.

“You got somewhere to be?” The accent was as familiar as it was almost foreign to his ears now, sounded out of context with his surroundings. His mother stood over him with her hand on her hip and a longneck bottle dangling loosely from her fingertips.

Nico stood immediately and stepped aside to offer her his spot. “No, why?”

She smiled and slid onto the bench, scooting over to make room for him as well. “You keep looking at your watch. Are we keeping you from something?” His mother’s dark eyes were piercing in their directness, and she had a way of sensing when he had things on his mind. Even from several hundred miles away.

Not knowing how to answer truthfully without igniting a firestorm of inquiries, he shrugged, and gave her only half the truth. “No, I’m good. I’ve missed you.” He took her hand from her lap and kissed it before laying it on the table. That part hadn’t been a lie; he loved his mother deeply, and enjoyed the close relationship they shared regardless of the distance, and quite probably because of the distance. He knew he’d have to tell her about the shift in his life eventually, especially since Nahia was coming to the funeral with him, but for the moment, he wanted to keep the joy to himself a little longer, keep it private and special.