Lacey Luzzi: Sprinkled: A humorous cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 1) (24 page)

I let the door slam shut behind me as Anthony deftly swiped a few keys and the alarm turned off. And for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn fingers interlocked with mine.

** **

“I’ve got six donuts, three with sprinkles and, three with filling and a sugar bomb coffee. You in?” I asked a sleeping Meg over the phone. I had about two seconds to catch her attention before she deemed me ‘not worthy’ and conked back out until the afternoon.

“Grawwp.”

“Awesome. Five minutes. Be ready.” I clicked the phone off and pulled into 7-11 praying they had steamed milk and blueberry coffee. Talk about heaven in a flimsy paper cup. Delish.

And enough donuts to satisfy a grumpy Meg.

I rolled out of there seconds later with a large sugar bomb in the disguise of a latte and donuts with no disguise. There was no mistaking the greasy bag on my front car seat, which scented my car with a delectable flavor of fat and fried dough and frosting.

Something resembling a bear in a green overcoat waited at the bottom of Meg’s driveway. She leaned against her mailbox, which gradually tilting under her weight at an odd angle. Letters protruded from the mouth as if the box were puking up its guts.

“Morning, sunshine!” I said.

“Don’t friggin’ talk to me, asshole.” Meg opened the car door and sat down.

I snatched the donut bag from the passenger seat before she squished the contents to smithereens and permanently smothering my car in the donut scent. Which would be super bad, on account of I didn’t need any more weight on my waist, and that donut scent led to very dangerous bouts of cravings. I wasn’t sure how many more sessions I could handle with Anthony before my panties fell off and I made bad decisions.

“We’re going to see Vadim this morning. I’m sick of not getting any information. I’m awake earlier than I’d like to be. I’m hung-over and I got my finger sucked on this morning. And I’m in the mood to figure some shiznit out.”

“You can say shit.” Meg ripped into one of the donuts. “Your grandma told me that it’s a word on account of Words With Friends.”

“Careful.” I held my hand under her mouth as she splattered sprinkles as if she were a two-year-old. Or a lion. Or anybody with no regard to crumbs and messes.

“Wike dis caa’ is cween.”

“This car is clean – ish,” I said. “I’m keeping it clean – ish, too.”

I didn’t want to tell her the Bentley had been clean when I’d taken it yesterday. Its interior had deteriorated alarmingly in the past twenty-four hours.

Meg swallowed. “What are you going to say to Uncle what’s-his-balls?”

“Uh…” I was distracted by the odd slurping nose coming from her mouth competing with the uncomfortable sounding gurgle from her stomach.

“I didn’t think about that,” I said, focusing on the road.

“Ask why he killed his friggin’ nephew.”

“Yeah, that’s a good place to start,” I agreed. “What’s my story?”

“Why do you need a story?” Meg looked at me. “Just tell him you had dinner with Andrey last night and it went friggin’ awesome and you want to sleep with him. So where is his cute little Russian ass?”

“Not bad,” I said. I could edit it a bit, but all in all it wasn’t a terrible idea.

I parked in front of the house where I’d found Andrey yesterday, taking his permanent nap. The car was suspiciously gone.

“Maybe they dropped that car in the river. Or compacted it. Can you tie cement shoes to a car? They heavy enough?” Meg asked.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re working for the Mafia.”

“So? I don’t kill people. I just find stuff. I’m like one of those people that walk up and down the beach with a metal detector looking for ‘the good stuff.’”

“Sure thing,” Meg agreed. “I’ll kill people for you.”

“That’s not necessary.” I shook my head. “You don’t have a gun, do you?”

“Course. Got one for you, too. I always knew you was a pansy.”

“I’m not a pansy. I’m going to the gym to get buffer for my job.”

“It’s not working.” Meg leaned over and squeezed my biceps so hard I thought they might pop like bubble wrap.

“Ow! Stop it. I’m working on it,” I said.

“Just use my method,” Meg said. “Booze and sex. Carry a gun. Put some meat on your bones. Nobody’ll eff with you then.”

“People don’t eff with me now,” I retorted, knowing instantly that wasn’t true.

Meg didn’t justify me with a response. “You’re a twig. I could fold you like a pretzel and eat you for lunch.”

I turned and patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you. I needed that – nicest thing anyone’s told me all day.”

Meg shrugged. “We bustin’ Uncle whats-his-balls or what?”

By the time we exited the car, Meg had a gun in each one of her camo jacket pockets.

“Where’d you get those guns, anyways?” I asked. “Did you steal them from the force?”

Meg grunted. “Did you eat a donut? Thought I told you to friggin bulk up.”

She removed half a jelly donut from another one of her endless pockets and shoved it into my mouth.

“Gaargg,” I mumbled, spitting it out along with a disgusting dime that’d wedged its way into the frosting. “Don’t do that. I almost chipped my tooth.”

“Good,” she said. “It’ll help your tough image. Nothing like having a missing tooth to make you look tough. ‘Cept maybe a tattoo on your ass. Or on your forehead like that Mike Tyson. Ohh, man. If I saw that man on the street…”

She did a full body shudder as I flinched with disgust. “Let’s get this over with.”

Meg tucked a sprinkly ball of dough into her pocket. “Ooops, wrong one. Don’t wanna eff with the gun.”

I wrinkled my nose as she removed the dough ball and shoved it in her mouth. I walked towards the door, feeling like my sidekick was an overgrown mix between a wooly mammoth and a chipmunk.

“Swallow,” I encouraged her.

She barked a laugh. “That’s what Hot Cheeks said when you left.”

I rolled my eyes and knocked on the door.

I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d see on the other of the powder blue door, but what I didn’t expect was a long-legged, shockingly blond chick with boobs as large as Meg’s and a body much smaller than mine. This girl did
not
eat any donuts. And if she did, they went straight to her voluptuous breasts.

“Uh, hello?” I asked. I cleared my throat. “Hello.”

“Vat you vant?” she drawled in a thick Russian accent.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Who are you?” she shot back.

“I’m Lacey and this is Meg.”

The girl lit a cigarette and eyed us up.

“And you are?” I prodded.

“I Trina. Why you bother me now, asshole? I thought you were Jimmy John’s delivery.”

It sounded more like ath-hole, but I wasn’t going to correct her English.

I could see guards flanking her sides, and I took a step backwards.

“I’m looking for Andrey,” I said.

“She wants to get laid,” Meg added, her mouth full. “They had dinner last night and she didn’t get ‘nothin.”

“Ah. I see. Andrey is not here. But I have another man if you like. You want sex with him? You’re prostitute?”

I reddened. “Actually, no.”

“’Yeah, she tried,” Meg butted in. “Her mom was a good one, but Lacey here lasted only one day. She didn’t have the
goods
, if you know what I’m saying.”

“She was a stripper!” I crossed my arms. “There is a definite difference. Although – there’s nothing wrong with being a prostitute as a profession, it’s just… uh, not my first choice…” I backpedaled quickly hoping not to offend Trina.

“What she’s saying is no,” Meg said. “She just wants Andrey’s sweet cheeks.”

“He not home. But I have another one. They look the same – iz no difference. If you want sex, they are the same.” She blew out smoke. “Belief me.”

“Do you live here?” I asked.

She shrugged and blew out smoke. “I guess.”

“Uh, okay. Are you dating Uncl- er – Mr. Vadim?” I asked.

“Date? No.” She shook her head and let out a raspy cough. “Do things for money. Yes. I stay here. You want to join?”

“No.” I shook my head, but Meg held up her finger and leaned forward.

“I’m curious,” Meg said. “You don’t mind if other girls sleep with Vadim?”

The blond wrinkled her botoxed skin against all odds. “No, why? Is good thing, that. Like a vacation for me – you understand? I be happy if you want some.”

“How much does it pay?” Meg held her hand over my mouth.

“Vat you want? I maybe work something out.”

“No, that’s okay,” I butted in. “We’re going to leave now. If you see Andrey, tell him I stopped by?”

“Yes.” She shut the door quickly, but not before I detected something in her eyes. Fear? Understanding? Menace?

“We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t trust her,” I said to Meg.

“Why? She seemed nice. Skinny bitch, but other than that okay. ‘Cept I bet even if you put her in cement shoes she wouldn’t sink. Those boobs are big enough to float her to the moon.”

I dragged Meg back to the car. Once safely inside, I locked the door and we split the last donut. I swiped a few little straggles of hair off, but it was overall okay. Warm and squishy, just the way I liked it.

“So, we’re not getting in through the front door,” I said. “That means one thing.”

“Uh uh, girl. No backdoor for me. Not til date three – you crazy?” Meg chewed with her mouth open.

“Gross,” I said. “I meant we wait until he comes outside and we corner him.”

“Oh, okay. That’s okay, too. ‘Cept my ass is gonna get flat sitting here for so long. I can’t have that happening on account of dreadlocks dude likes a lot of ass. You know, something to grip onto.”

“Know what I heard? If you clench your cheeks together it keeps your ass nice and poufy. You should try it.”

“Okay, I think-” Meg went suddenly silent.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m clenching. Don’t distract me. I’m not a multi-tasker.”

A thud on the window drew my attention from Meg’s frame, bobbing up and down supposedly with her exercises.

A very large, very ugly gun was shoved outside my window.

“Meg, stop it.” I spoke out of the corner of my mouth without drawing my eyes from the gun. The man behind the gun had a squashy nose, a lumpy frame and a sneer swiped across his face. Up close, Vadim wasn’t extremely attractive. I understood Trina’s sentiment of wanting other ‘ho’s to do her job.

I looked past her and saw that no good blond ‘ho lazing behind the front door looking like a mini chimney. “What a bitch.”

“She’s a bitch alright. But I’d be one too if I was living with that potato head,” Meg added.

“What do we do?” I turned to Meg.

“Drive away.”

I cranked the car on, but Vadim started shouting and waving his gun. “Uh, I think he doesn’t want us to leave.”

“So?” Meg had a point.

“Can you hear what he’s saying?”

She scrunched up her face and looked at his mouth. “I think he says Geroff is here.”

“Uh, okay. I think that might not be right.”

She shook her head. “You got a point. I don’t know no Geroffs. Oh, I get it. He’s saying get off now.” She turned her big eyes to me. “I ain’t doing it. I think he wants you to have sex with him.”

“Not happening. I’m off murderers.”

“For now,” Meg said. “You never know.”

“What?” I pantomimed not being able to hear him.

A shot rang out and shattered the window, covering me in glass. I felt a warm, sticky liquid on my hand and almost fainted at the skittle-sized pool of blood on my hand.

“I really dislike blood,” I said.

“You beetches listen,” Vadim demanded.

“Uh, okay. I can hear you now,” I said. “Much better without the window, thanks.”

“Get out.” He waved his gun a bit more.

How had nobody heard the shot? I wondered. Then I looked around and noticed lights flicked on and back off, heads poked out of windows like they were a turtle and retreated just as quickly. Apparently Vadim’s business was generally accepted around here on a ‘didn’t see nuthin’’ policy.

“Meg, let’s go,” I said. I turned towards my friend, but encountered a sprinkle encrusted gun.

“Get the eff out of my way. You interrupted my buttus clenchus and I don’t appreciate that. This gludious super-maximus is getting flat on your dime. And I don’t appreciate it. So skedaddle.” Meg waved her gun, except sprinkles fell off, which probably wasn’t especially intimidating.

I spit an errant pink sprinkle from the corner of my lip, which turned out to be a bad idea.

Another gunshot rang out and my windshield shattered.

“Don’t spit at meh,” Vadim growled.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Another shot rang out, but this time it was Meg’s gun. A shower of sprinkles rained down on the glass already covering both of us and we were a mess of rainbow shards.

Vadim whirled backwards. He didn’t look dead though on account of he was flopping like an uncooperative fish and holding his shoulder.

“Get a move on, compadre!” Meg leaned over and pressed the gas pedal.

We lurched forward. I gingerly grabbed the steering wheel, not wanting to move in case glass on the seat got lodged in inappropriate girl places. Then I’d really be off men – and not by choice. I preferred it by choice. If necessary, I could always fall off the abstinence wagon.

Six bullets rang out in quick succession, but the closest it came to my head was shattering my rear view mirror. Which was still much closer than I liked.

“Add more glass to the pile,” Meg shouted out the window to our attacker. “Try us. We’re swimming in it already.”

“Okay, enough,” I said. I cranked the wheel and whipped us around the corner. As we turned, however, I noticed a distinct thunking noise on Meg’s side of the car.

“Uh oh, I think we have a flat,” I said. “On your side, can you see?”

“Are you calling me fat?” Meg asked. “Because I told you I’ve been trying to diet, and I just needed energy this morning with the donuts. ‘Cause if you are, I did my butt exercises-”

“You’re not fat,” I said. “I think he shot the tire out.”

“Oh, yeah. He did.” Meg nodded. “So where we going now? We def can’t make it to your side of town. I doubt we can even make it to my place which is two miles away.”