The Spia Family Presses On (9 page)

Aunt Hetty nudged Uncle Ray to the side, giving him one of her hard looks. He moved out of her way. “Is the horny devil dead, or do we have to call an ambulance? The son of a . . . probably doesn’t have any insurance and we’ll get stuck with the bill. Well, you can bet that I won’t be making any contributions. I’m done with this devil.”

No one said a word as she walked up to Dickey, crossed her arms in tight under her breasts, leaned in closer and said, “He looks dead to me. Ha! Finally you guys did something right. Dirty bastage should’a been knocked off years ago.” She stood up again, turned toward me and I noticed her moist eyes.

What was that all about?

Val said, “Babe can finally be free of the cheating, murdering louse.”

“I’ve been free of the louse for a long time, doll. I don’t need nobody to kill him on my account.” Babe’s husky voice rose from the shadows. “Especially not tonight.”

“Where the hell is Jimmy? That kid never could take orders,” Uncle Ray groused.

“Give it a rest, Ray. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” She peered down at Dickey. “I was kind of hoping he’d stick around for awhile for old time’s sake.” She struck a pose
—
one hip cocked, fluffed the bottom of her golden curls with her hand
—
then she spoke to Dickey. “Too bad it had to end this way, big guy. I was just gettin’ in the mood.”

In the mood for what, I wondered.

She turned and strolled away from the group, heels clicking on the tile in a slow rhythm that kept the men silently yearning until the sound of her shoes faded into the still night.

This was getting interesting.

Then Maryann, with her ample body and curly auburn-colored hair, steel-blue eyes and a sardonic outlook on life, showed up and made everyone guilty for our general lack of respect for the dead. She told us the story of how Dickey had paid for her accordion lessons when her own family didn’t believe the accordion could do “diddly squat” for a heroin addiction. “The accordion saved my life,” she said all teary eyed. “Dickey even wrote me letters of accordion encouragement from prison. He was good to me, and you people should respect that.”

Uncle Benny lit up his stogy.

“We should call Angelo Conti over at Conti’s funeral parlor,” Aunt Hetty said. “They do a nice job on a body, even one with a bullet hole in its head. I bet if we slipped Angelo a couple extra grand he wouldn’t say nothing about that bullet hole to the cops. Times are tough these days in the funeral business. People are going eco friendly and cremating their loved ones or burying them in biodegradable coffins they buy at Wal-Mart. Not much of a profit in a biodegradable coffin.”

“We’re not calling Angelo Conti,” Uncle Ray declared. “This is a family matter. The Contis aren’t family. Can’t trust ‘em.”

“Let’s just call the police,” I said, finally ready for this to be over with. Of course, there was one minor thing I had to do before they arrived . . . remove my mom’s handgun from the futso. I justified this little act of felony with the absolute certainty that she had nothing to do with his murder and would only put the police on the wrong track.

Uncle Ray said, “The cops’ll think it was a community killin’ or something equally as stupid and it’ll ruin everything we’ve worked for. Hell, the newspapers and cable news might get wind of this and some of our old enemies could crawl outta the woodwork lookin’ for a little revenge. Then where will we be? No, the best thing to do is to bury the bastard and be done with it.”

“I agree with Ray,” Uncle Benny said. “Cops will just bring trouble to the family, and the one thing we do not need is more trouble. I vote we get a place ready under that big olive tree next to the barn.”

“One thing’s for sure,” Uncle Ray said as he hunched down to get another look at Dickey, “none of us here clipped the bastard. We ain’t stupid enough to shit where we eat.”

“Not unless one of you wanted to get even and set somebody up,” I said.

Federico looked over at me, his face in a bunch. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody here would do that. We’re family.”

Uncle Ray stood. “I’m getting’ a bad feeling about this. We need to move him outta here. Now.”

“But wouldn’t you like to know who killed him?” Lisa asked.

Okay, not the best thing to say, at least not in this crowd. If one of their own clipped him, then let sleeping dogs lie would be their motto. If that person didn’t want to come forward and turn themselves in, which was highly doubtful, or disappear on their own, then so be it. The problem was if any of them learned who did it, then they’d have to turn that person in or risk their own freedom. No way did any of these born-again angels want to take another trip on the dark side. They were into the legitimate business of olive oil now, and they intended to keep it that way.

The silence was palpable. No one moved, or breathed for that matter. Lisa was an outsider, and even though she’d been my best friend practically since I took my first step, an outsider didn’t interfere in family business.

With those few words, it was as if my family finally realized her presence, as if all this time they hadn’t completely focused in on her. But now they did, and from the look on their collective faces, I could tell they wanted her gone and fast.

It was my turn to say something. “Lisa’s right. And besides, she’s the one who found Dickey first, so her DNA is all over this place. She’s a stand-up girl, you all know that, and now she’s just as much of a suspect as the rest of us.”

I looked around for a nod of acceptance, a wink of hope, something that told me they weren’t going to unilaterally shun her for the rest of time, but all I got were blank stares. No expressions. No tells. Not even a twitch, which, for my family, wasn’t completely bad news.

She leaned in and whispered, “Thank you for that. Up until now I thought I was merely an eye witness to the aftermath of a crime, but now that I’m a suspect I’ll sleep easier.”

“Sorry, but I had to defend you,” I told her.

“Is that what that was?”

I nodded, shrugged and gave her a little smile.

Uncle Ray said, “I only talked to Dickey once all night when he was lookin’ for a wine opener. He told me he couldn’t stick around long. He had one thing to do and once that was done he was headin’ back to the city in the morning.”

“What time was that?” I asked thinking I should get some kind of timeline going.

“I don’t know. I gave up watchin’ the clock when I retired,” he growled. “But I was glad to hear it. I didn’t want him hanging around here any longer than necessary.”

“Are we talking daylight or night?” I asked.

“Still daylight. That I can say for sure. Those little lights wasn’t on yet, ‘cause I remember lookin’ at ‘em thinkin’ how we should hang some more.”

“I opened his wine bottle. Russo’s Pinot Noir,” Aunt Babe said, the sound of her heels clicking up behind Uncle Ray. “Poured out two glasses, one for him and one for me. I was figuring on getting him to spill on what he wanted by coming here, but all he could talk about was how sorry he was for two-timing me. Crazy to see him so sappy over the past. Never thought the day would come.”

“How long did you two chat?”

“Two glasses worth. Honey, when a goodfella is spilling his guts a dame aughta listen.”

“That bastard was playing you, Babe. Men like that ain’t never sorry about what they done,” Valerie said. “I saw the two of you talking and I knew just by watching the prick that he didn’t mean nothing he was saying. He was born mean, and there wasn’t nothing that could change that. Don’t forget he bit off his own mother’s nipple when her milk went dry. He was bad to the bone, Babe, and all that sorry shit he was feeding you was just bullshit, plain and simple.”

“You’re still carrying your own grudge against him, Val. Won’t do you any good now. He’s dead,” Aunt Babe said.

“About time. I was thinking about burning him myself, but somebody beat me to it. Good thing, too, ‘cause I wasn’t looking forward to makin’ that decision.”

“What was the grudge?” I asked Val.

“That’s something better left with the dead,” she answered, tossing me a dismissive look.

“Don’t tread on the past, Mia,” Federico warned in a quiet voice, leaning into me. “It can lead where you don’t want to go. Especially in this family.”

He gave me a wink and a friendly smile, but I couldn’t make out if he was talking about our family or giving me some kind of warning about Valerie.

Then just when I was about to ask Benny about the evening, my mother’s voice rang through the barn. “Mia, honey,” she yelled sounding phony sweet. “You might want to come out here, like right away. Leonardo is here and he brought that nice young man from the Sheriff’s Department, Nick Zeleski.”

“Cops!” Uncle Ray spit out, and my family scattered like roaches in a spotlight, each taking their own route to the nearest exit.

My stomach clenched and I actually contemplated running out with them. Lisa grabbed my arm, firmly. Her eyes went wide, the only indication that she might be anxious. “We need to remember to breathe,” she said, taking in a deep breath then slowly letting it out. “In times of strife it’s best to remain calm.”

“Are you quoting yourself?”

“Yes. The introduction to my first book: your survival depends on a clear head, and you can’t have one if you don’t take in enough oxygen.”

We filled our lungs with a combination of cigar smoke and fear. The toxic combination caused a chain reaction and we both coughed at the same time as we quickly headed toward the opposite door from where my family had escaped from, toward my mom, Leo and Nick Zeleski
—
the mouth of the dragon.

“Mia, did you hear me, dear? Are you coming out soon? Because the boys are coming in if you don’t?” I could hear the edge to my mom’s voice.

“No!” I squeaked out. “We’ll be right out. We’re on our way right now.”

Lisa followed close behind me as we hurried to the door. “Wait,” she said pulling on my arm. “Mia, we forgot your mom’s gun.”

Dread raced through me. How could I have been so stupid! “I’ll run back and get it. Stall them,” I told her.

“How? I don’t even like Leo, remember?”

“Just tell him I’m bringing out a few bottles of oil for him, or tell him about your latest book. I don’t know. You’re the writer. Make something up.”

She cocked her head, shrugged and spun around towards the door.

I started to turn back, but it was too late.

“Hey, kitten,” Leo said, suddenly appearing in front us, his voice all sexy and low, reminding me of how much I missed him.

And that’s when it hit me
—
when I saw Leo standing next to a tall, curly haired stranger with the sapphire blue eyes. I flashed back on that afternoon, seeing Leo standing out on his veranda with another man, an older man, a man in a golden shirt, the man who had slapped Leo’s hand away. That man had been my cousin Dickey.

The stranger said, “You hiding something from us in here or what?”

Fainting is a curious thing. It comes upon you in a rush of darkness and in that instant before you lose consciousness you’re absolutely sure somebody has turned out all the lights.

“Don’t! Stop! Don’t
! Stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!
—
Olive Oyl, Gym Jam

The good news was I didn’t actually faint, at least not flat out on the floor. I merely lost my balance for an instant, slumped, and fell into Leo’s eager arms. If I had planned this moment of feminine weakness, the game couldn’t have gone better. My “episode,” as it would later be referred to, caused one of those turn of events that truly amazed me.

“Let’s get her outside for some air,” Nick Zeleski said.

And with that, my entire outlook brightened, plus it gave me a strong lesson in feminine wiles. A trait Aunt Babe had always professed as our strongest defense against male dominance.

I played the part well, allowing Leo to slowly walk me out of the barn while I leaned into his fabulously muscled body. I felt safe and warm walking next to him surrounded by his familiar scent
—
a mixture of red wine, sweet grapes and a whole lotta trouble. The grape scent was even sweeter as I pressed my body up against his. I wanted to be swept up and taken off to his bed and made love to until my bones ached and I could no longer breathe.

The truth was that whenever I saw Leo all I ever wanted was to be in his bed, part of my irrational Leonardo obsession, my therapists had said. Right now, separate from the desire to be naked with him, I wanted to tell him about dead cousin Dickey, and I wanted to ask him what went on during his conversation with Dickey that morning.

But mostly, as I leaned into him and felt his arm around my waist, and his playful fingers pressing against my body, I wanted the two of us to be back together again.

Lisa must have sensed what was swirling around inside my head because when I gazed over at her once we were out of the barn she threw me one of those “you can’t be serious” looks and it was then that reality hit me right between the eyes.