The Goddaughter's Revenge (7 page)

He shivered.

Carmine grabbed me by the arm. “You gotta give me that flash drive. Christ! If Tracy sees this…”

I tried to shake him off. “Big Sally should scare you more. Are you nuts, cheating on his daughter? What the crap were you thinking?”

“You gotta help me get those vids back or I'm a dead man!” He tried to grab my other arm, but I backed away.

“Hey! Let go of her,” Pete growled and moved forward.

“Let go of me, Carm. For crissake, I haven't got time for this!” I whacked his head with my free hand. “Just give me back the stones.”

“I don't have them,” Carmine mumbled. “I have to get them back from some guy.”

I rolled my eyes. There was always “some guy.”

“You have a week, Carm. One week to get those rocks back to me. But now I have to get home in time to meet up with Lainy. She's here with the Doves, and I don't get to see her very often anymore. Do a turf war with Aunt Miriam on your own time. I got a plane to catch.”

Silence.
Why silence? What did I say?
Everybody stopped moving.

“Lainy? Lainy McSwain, the country singer?” Joey asked.

I nodded.

“You know her?”

This was weird. “She's my best friend,” I said.

“Why didn't we know that, Carm? Why the fuck didn't we know that?” Joey said. He waved his arms through the air.

“Are you kidding me? I LOVE Lainy McSwain! Can you get us tickets or something?” the goon named Lou piped up.

I looked over at Pete, who had turned toward the wall. By the way his back was shaking, I figured he was silently sniggering.

“I can do better than that,” I said slowly. Then my voice picked up. “She's playing at Aunt Pinky's Halloween party on Friday night. You can come as my guests and meet her in person.”

“Holy shit. Listen, there's this chick I know in North Tonawanda—”

“Yes, Joey, you can bring the chick from North Tonawanda. Jeesh.”

“Is she going to play ‘You Done Me Wrong, So I Done You In'? I love that song,” said Bertoni.

Figures
.

I scanned my watch. “She'll play the song. Look. I hate to break this up, but we gotta make like a banana and peel. Meet me at my place at six on Friday. I'll email the address. We'll go to the party together. Oh, and don't forget to bring the rocks you owe me.”

“Will Aunt Miriam be there?” Joey shivered.

I closed the laptop and picked it up. “And wear a costume! It's a costume party.”

I managed to get Pete and his toy gun out the door before he expired on the floor.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We caught the plane. We even got home to my place in one piece. Well, two pieces, as there were two of us.

I was feeling good about the rocks. Carmine would bring them back to Hamilton himself. That meant he got to take the risk of carrying them across the border for a change.

Then Lainy called to say her flight had been delayed and she'd meet me at Pinky's. We'd get together after the show and have a whole two weeks to gab. I filled her in on what had been happening lately. She was looking forward to meeting the “stallion in my paddock.”

Things were looking up.

* * *

Pete arrived at my door on Friday night dressed as a Roman centurion. He had on a tunic with a breastplate that looked to be covered with aluminum foil. And he was armed. There was a dagger at his waist and one down the side of his boot. Another weapon hung from his belt.

I leaned against the doorjamb and did my best Mae West impression.

“Is that a broadsword on your belt or are you just glad to see me?”

Pete hooted.

Then he reached for me. “I'm always glad to see you, babe. And that is one heck of a slave-girl costume. Like the image. And the one-shoulder getup.”

“I'm not a slave girl!” Jeesh. Like I would ever want to be that. “Slave girls don't wear jeweled brooches. I'm a Roman senator's daughter.” Close enough to a mob king's goddaughter, I figured. I wondered if Cicero would agree.

Pete was still staring at the costume.

“Say, if I remove the brooch, does this toga thing come apart?”

“That'll have to wait.” I lowered my voice. “Joey and the gang are here. But the girlfriend couldn't make it. She didn't have a passport.”

“Carm brought the rocks?”

I nodded. “All's well, if not exactly sane.” I started to pull Pete by the hand into the living room. Then I stopped and turned back.

“Oh, and don't laugh,” I warned.

Good thing I warned him. We entered the room. I felt Pete tense beside me and then shake a bit.

“Are we going to a rodeo?” he whispered.

I slapped his arm.

The boys from Buffalo had gotten into the theme of things. In fact, it kind of looked like they might be getting ready to herd buffalo. Carmine, Joey, Lou and Bertoni were dressed as cowboys.

I don't know if you have ever seen a bunch of New York hoods pretending to be Wild West outlaws. Or marshals—Lou did have a star pinned to his chest.

Let me tell you, it does take some imagination. But if you have ever seen old western shows on television, you may remember that big guy called Hoss.

Joey made a perfect Hoss. I almost expected the
Bonanza
theme song to come piping through the walls.

“Howdy,” said Pete, grinning from ear to ear. “Lookin' good.”

The others tipped their ten-gallon hats and nodded. They were dressed in blue jeans, plaid shirts and leather chaps. They had matching red bandannas. And boots with spurs. Looked a little strange with the tattoos.

I could tell Pete was trying to hold back a snigger. I followed his gaze. Bertoni had pasted a droopy black mustache on his face.

“This being the first time we meet Lainy and the Lonesome Doves,” said Joey, “we figured we should dress the part.”

“On account of their being country an' western.” Lou nodded.

The fake Texas accents were a bit jarring, but I gave them A+ for effort.

“Stupid Canada. Couldn't bring our heaters over the border, so we have to wear these fake things.” Bertoni pointed to the toy revolver in his holster. He sounded disgusted.

I wondered if they were purchased at the same store Pete's so-called Canadian Military Special came from.

“You a warrior of some sort? What do you call those dudes?” Carmine said.

Pete was a whirl of arms. Daggers appeared in each hand. “I'm a Roman centurion. Nobody move, or I'll fill you full of bronze.”

I rolled my eyes. “Time to go, children. Joey, you guys follow my car.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Pinky Palmerston had made what we in the family called a good marriage. In high school, she was a knockout cheerleader who hooked up with a really smart guy. They got engaged at eighteen. When Ben was accepted into McMaster's medical school, my uncle Vince footed the bill. So we have a surgeon in the family as well as a lawyer. Which is really very handy. Don't ask why.

Ben and Pinky live on a country estate just outside Hamilton. It was château chic before fake French châteaus became the rage. It is also about as big as Versailles. When you push back the furniture, the great room alone can easily handle a crowd of a hundred.

When we got there, the place was already rocking. Tony, one of her sons, manned the double front doors, keeping out the riffraff. He looked like Pinky—tall and slim, with Italian-movie-star good looks. The slick suit he was wearing had to have cost at least two thousand bucks.

Tony's face split into a grin when he saw me.

“Hey, Gina. You behind the whole Lone Rearranger thing?”

I started. “Don't spread that around, Tony! Jeesh, I'm in enough shit.”

“Another Tony?” Pete said innocently.

My cousin and I exchanged knowing smiles. My other cousin Tony had been taken out by a New York connection. He wasn't much of a loss.

“You're not really Italian unless you have at least two cousins named Tony,” I explained patiently.

“And one uncle,” added Tony.

Pete put out his hand.

Tony shook it. “Cool costume. Like the sword.”

I pulled Pete into the marble foyer before he could start demonstrating his weapons. Carmine and the Buffalo boys shuffled in behind us.

Country music was coming from the two-story space just beyond the plaster columns in front of us. Live palm trees at least fifteen feet tall flanked the columns.

We entered the immense party room beyond. It was dimly lit, so it took a second for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I nearly fell over.

“Oh no. Look!”

“Oh Christ.” Pete started to chortle. Then he howled.

In front of us was a guy carrying a bottle of wine. He was dressed in black and wearing a white Zorro mask. Behind him was another guy wearing a similar white mask.

“I count three. No, four.”

“Five. Here comes Nico.”

Even with the mask, you couldn't miss his bleached hair.

Nico grabbed me in a bear hug. “Gina, can you believe it? I'm a superstar! It's the costume of the year! Of course, I had to wear it. Who knows when I'll get the chance again? And look at all the others. I tell you, it's brilliant. Such a commendation. I'm chuffed.”

My eyes could hardly focus. Every second man at the party was dressed up as the Lone Rearranger. Some were dark-haired and some were bald. There were thin ones and pot-bellied ones. There had to be at least ten. No, make that twelve. Thirteen. There was even a reverse Lone Rearranger. He was all in white with a black mask.

“Is that—oh my god, it's Stoner and Toke. Hi, Stoner! Isn't that cute!” Nico pointed.

The black standard poodle was wearing a white mask.

One especially tall guy was wearing a white mask and a black cape.

“Oh god, I need that cape. Why didn't I think of a cape? I wonder if he'll sell it.” Nico took off in the direction of the cape man. I didn't hold out much hope for the poor guy's chances.

Pete was bent over, wheezing.

“You have to stop laughing like that. You'll hurt yourself on your sword.” I fussed about him.

“It's your family,” he said, straightening. Tears were running down his face. “They slay me.”

“They better not!” I said firmly.

The band was whipping up to a crescendo. Lainy's voice was coming through loud, clear and gorgeous.

“You done me wrong, so I done you in
The cops are comin' to take me in
Two pumps in the chest—yeah, I know
it's a sin
But you done me wrong, an' I'd do it ag'in
Oh yeah, babe
Bye-bye, babe.”

Pete put an arm around my shoulders. “Catchy lyrics,” he said.

“Kind of a family motto,” I replied.

He pulled me closer. “Another one?”

I cocked my head sideways. “Aunt Miriam always says,
Divorce, never. Murder, maybe
.”

Pete smirked. “Fine by me. I play for keeps.”

The music stopped. Then the cheers and whistles started up.

Lainy left the stage and headed our way. As always, every male eye in the place was glued to her brown suede skirt as she sashayed over. Not to mention the big red hair and the checkered cowgirl shirt that was straining at the buttons. Good thing she was so darn nice or it would be hard not to be jealous.

“Hey, girlfriend! It's so damned good to see ya.” She gave me a big happy hug. Then she eyed the big guy beside me and whispered, “I'll get to know your sugar later. But first…”

She turned to the cousins.

“So…which one of these hombres is your cousin Carmine, Gina?”

I pointed.

Lainy went up to Carmine, who was bug-eyed with hero worship. She grabbed his bolo tie with her right hand and yanked it, pulling him over until they were nose to nose. Or rather, more like nose to boob. Lainy is over six feet tall in her boots and built like Dolly Parton, so she kind of towered over Carmine.

“Now listen to me, cowboy. You mess with my gal pal again, and I got a six-shooter with your name on it. You get me?”

Carmine nodded vigorously. I think he was having trouble breathing.

Lainy let go of the bolo and pushed him back. “Just so we understand each other. I'm a no-nonsense kind of girl, if you get my drift. But just to prove I can be friendly, like, what's your favorite song that I do?”

Carmine was still wide-eyed and gasping. He didn't seem to be able to talk.

“He likes ‘You're Roadkill on My Highway of Life,'” said Joey.

“It's up next,” Lainy said. She winked at me and turned to go back to the band.

“Wow.” Bertoni was drooling. “Is she ever
hot
.”

“Oh, look,” Pete said wickedly. “Here comes Aunt Miriam.”

They vanished.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to my first readers, Cathy Astolfo and Cheryl Freedman, who laugh easily and generously show me when I hit a funny bone.

Thanks also to my Italian relatives still living (you know who you are), a lively and fun-loving bunch. Thanks as well to some of those now dead (and note that I waited to publish this until now).

Finally, I am particularly grateful to the superb team at Orca Books, including my editor, Bob Tyrrell, along with Dayle Sutherland, Leslie Bootle and the rest of the marketing department. They make every step in the publishing process a pleasure.

Although
MELODIE CAMPBELL
got her start writing comedy, her work has appeared in
Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine
,
Canadian Living
,
The Toronto Star
,
The Globe and Mail
and many other publications.
The Goddaughter's Revenge
is Melodie's fifth published novel and second in the Rapid Reads series (
The Goddaughter
, Orca/Raven Books, 2012). She lives in Oakville, Ontario, and can be found at
www.melodiecampbell.com
.