Dead and Disorderly (Behind the Blue Line Series Book 2) (22 page)

She was shocked when his only question was, “Again?”

Nonna’s sly laugh ended in a protracted cough, though she waved off their concern and pulled out another smoke. “Oh, this is just fantastic. You, too? Your mother’s going to have a whole litter of kittens.” She clapped her hands, rubbing them together with a gleefully evil look.

Nahia shook her head vigorously. “Nonna, you can’t tell her. You know this.”

The old lady seemed to think on it for a while, the wickedness gradually replaced by a full-on pout. “Fine,” she harrumphed. “But now you have to tell me the rest of the story. I know you were holding out on me.”

Nico spent the rest of the evening with Nahia and his Nonna, pleased to see his initial assessment was correct. They were definitely thick as thieves and both ready for mischief. They moved the party from behind the building to the patio, and Richard the Boytoy brought out a fresh round of drinks.

It felt good to hear tales from Nonna’s wild teenage years with Mrs. Ianucci, memories that were still as fresh for her as the day they happened. Being able to laugh with her brought him peace and comfort. Though, admittedly, so did Nahia.

Her hand in his, or on his knee, her chair as close to his without being in his lap, her overall nearness made him feel taken care of without being smothered. She was definitely a keeper, even if she didn’t know it yet. He was prepared to convince her when the time came, and was very comfortable with the idea.

Hearing about her latest encounter with the afterlife had been as entertaining as it was concerning. Nahia’s animated expressions and sparkling eyes accentuated her beauty, taking her from gorgeous to breathtaking. And he was glad she got to meet Mrs. I., and see how wonderful she was, even if it had only been for a moment. He loved the idea of her and Mr. I. moving on to the afterlife together and happy; it gave him hope and bolstered his opinion that there could be one grand love in someone’s life, and it didn’t have to end in death.

The concerning part was as she told the story and relayed what Mrs. I. had asked of her, he got the distinct impression that she would need to go back to the house. Not only go back to the house, but do whatever it was that would be needed to free Mrs. I.’s brother, Aurelio. He wasn’t clear on what all that entailed, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it.

He kissed his mother, sister, and grandmother before he left, and hugged Peter, Paul, and Simon before he escorted Nahia out to his car. With her hair down, she looked exotic, and so damn sexy he felt unbelievably pleased to have her on his arm, like he’d won the sweepstakes of a lifetime, and she was his. He couldn’t have been happier, at least, he was pretty sure.

She slumped onto the couch as soon as they got up to her apartment. The stairs were brutal in dress shoes, and he was surprised how handily she travelled them with her heels, as tired as she appeared now. He stopped by her fridge, wanting to care for her a little in the way she so ably took care of him. “Your choices are beer and…” he looked further into the fridge, “uh, beer, apparently.” He had never known a woman in his life whose refrigerator wasn’t ready for dinner for four at a moment’s notice. It was startling, to say the least.

Nahia summoned him over with a wave of her hand. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll hit the grocery tonight. Sit with me. Please.” She had toed off her shoes and sat snuggled into the corner of the couch with her stocking-covered feet crossed and propped up on the coffee table and her hands behind her head.

He slid onto the cushion and leaned against her, his head on her shoulder, and her fingernails tracing a soothing pattern on his scalp. They lay there curled up on the couch for a while, the quiet soaking into them and purging the noise and mayhem of the earlier day.

Heaving a great sigh, Nico sat up and hoisted himself to his feet, offering her a hand. “C’mon, Nye, let’s go change back into our people clothes.”

A lazy smile stretched over her lips as she took his hand and stood. “Sounds perfect.”

After changing out of their bleak attire, they ran some errands and bought groceries. It was very domesticated. She had especially loved it when he said he owed her dinner from the other night and volunteered to cook for her. There were no complaints at all from her, and she sat at the breakfast bar with her sexy little Irish Fest t-shirt that showed a generous amount of cleavage when she leaned over, and her silver reading glasses.

Nahia had the letters out of the box again, poring over them like they were the treasure map to the lost city of Atlantis. One in her hand, some opened and next to her, and still a collection in the box, her attention was rapt on the work in front of her.

After hearing a sniffle for the third time in as many minutes while chopping veggies, he inquired, “You okay there?” knowing full well that her tender heart was as affected by the letters as he’d been.

Nodding stiffly, she dug in her pocket for a tissue, only putting the letter down to lift her glasses and dab her eyes. “I figured out the murals. He was born in Italy, Thea in England, and they met and fell in love in Paris. It’s just so sad, babe. She lost her mother and the love of her life within a week of each other.”

He hummed in agreement and looked back down at his knifework, lest he come up short a finger in the course of making their dinner. “From what I could tell, they had no children, either.”

Nahia nodded and sighed deeply. “Yeah, Thea talks about some kind of ‘injury’ Aurelio suffered. She doesn’t really go into specifics, except to lament the lack of kids. She asks about the McManus kids, though, seems like that was an affectionate relationship, if a little wistful. She alludes to something going on with the kids and their mother, but never says what it is outright. What the hell would the mother have going on that the kids would be involved?” She sniffed again as she folded up the letters and began to reorganize them. “Yet another part of this tragedy. Why do you think McManus killed the kids?”

He spared a glance up to find her nibbling on the silvery earpiece of her reading glasses, staring at him intently, eyes focused on a spot just over his left shoulder. Watching the way her lips worried that piece of plastic was damn engrossing. “You really wanna know?” He’d had some suspicions when he’d read the stories, ideas and inklings his years as a cop had supplied, but it was one thing to think them and another entirely to share with the uninitiated.

Her dark eyes blinked and came to rest on him, heavy with curiosity and solely focused now. “I learned a long time ago not to ask questions if I wasn’t prepared for the answers. I think we’re past preparing for the answers.”

His lips twitched as he suppressed a laugh. Her toughness showed in little ways, but it was always there, lurking in the background of an otherwise distinctly sunny disposition. Nico lay the chef’s knife on the cutting board and wiped his hands on the towel he’d had draped over his shoulder. Her gaze was unwavering as he came around the counter to join her on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Okay, so here’s the thing.” He took her hand in both of his, enjoying the softness of her skin in contrast to the unpleasantness of the conversational topic. “There are a few reasons people do things like that. One is sheer meanness, to spite the surviving partner.”

She snorted. “That presumes there
is
a surviving partner.”

He nodded, appreciating her quick mind. “It does, which is not the case here. Another reason is to hide a sin, some secret he can’t risk getting out under any circumstances.” He’d seen people do evil and unspeakable things to each other in the name of protecting a secret, and not just on his Nonna’s soaps.

Nahia’s dark eyes narrowed in confusion and she hooked her glasses over the collar of her shirt, making her chest distractingly sparkly. “What the hell kind of secret would involve the kids?”

He shrugged and pulled a hand down his face, in truth he’d been hoping not to have to get this far into the subject. “His infidelity, hers, the parentage of the kids, to name a few.”

Nahia winced, and leaned back on the stool, physically recoiling from his suggestions. “Jesus,” she hissed. “Well, how the hell is Aurelio involved?”

Nico kissed her hand and got up to go back to the kitchen and continue his culinary masterpiece. “I do not know.” Even as he said the words, his mind was spitting out thoughts and speculations he didn’t want to share. He really didn’t want to think about the gardener and the lady of the house getting it on, but it was definitely within the realm of possibility.

She watched him for a moment, and then replaced the letters in the box before leaving the room.

When she came back with her laptop and fired it up, he knew she meant business. “Whatcha doin?” He slid the veggies from the cutting board into the sauce he was making, turning up the heat. Crossing his arms, he watched her from his side of the breakfast bar.

“Thinking.” She didn’t look up at him and was completely focused on whatever was in front of her, completely illegible in the reflection of her tiny glasses.

“About anything in particular?” He tossed a dishtowel over his shoulder again and leaned on the counter, pushing the computer to the side with a single finger until her eyes connected with his.

She grinned slightly as she slid the computer back to its previous location. “I have a lot of different angles on this going around in my brain.”

Her eyes went back to the screen and he stepped away to grab the sausages he’d picked up from the butcher at the grocery store from the fridge. “As far as Aurelio? As far as McManus? As far as what you’re going to do about the letters? What?”

“All related.” He could hear her clicking away at the keyboard vigorously as she spoke. “I’m thinking if he wants justice for his wife, I want to know about her. I think the only reason she lived past that day was because she was out of the country. I also think the strain of losing both her mother and her husband might have been more than she could handle, given the fragile emotional state I get from her letters. So I wanna poke around a bit.”

Sound logic, definitely. The way her mind worked impressed him, and that wasn’t something that happened often. “And if she’s still alive?”

“Hell.” She chuckled and folded the screen down on her laptop. “I got no idea. I’d say I want to talk to her, but what the hell do I say? ‘I’ve been talking to your dead husband’ seems a bit crass? Off-putting maybe?”

Nico had to put down the spatula he was using so he didn’t flip the sausage all over her kitchen while laughing. “Yeah. Yeah, I could see that going badly. On a few different levels.” He put the pasta on to boil after tasting the sauce. “And if she’s dead?”

She blew out a breath and climbed off the stool. “Then I guess we’ll deal with that when we come to it.” Moving into the kitchen, she got out plates and silverware, even stooping to pull a colander out of the cabinet next to the oven and putting it into the sink.

Her use of the word ‘we’ was comical, because he knew she meant her and him, but he was kinda hoping Nigel would step in for this part. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna do to set him free?” He drained the pasta and rinsed it as he asked.

“Mmm.” It was a noncommittal hum, but for some reason it set his nerves on edge. She finished the place settings and grabbed a couple beers before retaking her seat.

He dished up the pasta and sat down across from her, clinking his bottle against hers before digging into his plate. Her wide eyes and almost moan of pleasure at the first bite told him he’d succeeded in this portion of his plan to woo her, fighting the war one front at a time. “So is that a good ‘hmm’ or a bad ‘hmm’?”

She finished chewing, gesturing with her fork for him to give her a minute and then wiped her mouth daintily with a napkin. Damn, but she was adorable. “The food’s amazing. Thank you, really. You didn’t have to cook.”

He smiled at her compliment, and her deft avoidance of his question. “You’re very welcome. I love to cook. You’ve met the family. I’m sure you can see why.” He twirled his spaghetti around his fork, watching her from under his lashes. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you going to do about Aurelio?”

Nahia picked up her fork and began to systematically decimate the sausage link on her plate, mixing it in with the mushrooms and sauce there. She stabbed a piece and held it up as she answered, “I have an idea about that, actually, but I have to talk to some people first.” The food was in her mouth before she could say anything else.

Now it was his turn to hum noncommittally. Her lack of elaboration concerned him, especially with talk of other people. In his mind, he could see this going very, very badly, and given his previous experience, he didn’t even want to imagine what badly looked like. “Babe,” he reached out and took her hand in his, “no offense, but that’s not terribly comforting.”

She simply lifted his hand and kissed his fingers before resuming eating. “Trust me.”

He knew he’d follow her through the gates of Hell if she just wanted to do a day trip. Whatever happened, he’d be there with her, because that’s where he knew he belonged: with her. “I’ll take ‘Famous Last Words’ for $300, Alex,” he murmured, and she giggled. It must be love, because he was clearly crazy.