Goddaughter Caper, The Page 4

  “Remember I was a lunch monitor at St. Bonaventure.” It was a statement, not a question.

  Uh-oh. This was going to be good. I just knew it. Nico stuck his head forward to hear.

  She told us.

  Nico gasped. “No!!”

  Miriam nodded. Both her chins waggled.

  I grinned. Spense the voyeur, sneaking into the girls’ change room. No doubt getting an eyeful from a hidden corner. Caught in a particularly disgraceful act by our Auntie M. “No wonder he didn’t want his mother to know.”

  “That boy oughta be blind by now,” said Miriam.

  Nico guffawed.

  Miriam marched off, holding her head high.

  EIGHT

  The event: THE SHOWER

  The location: Aunt Pinky’s modest mansion near the top of the Niagara Escarpment. Okay, not so modest. Nobody really needs an indoor and outdoor pool.

  The cast: Aunt Miriam, Aunt Pinky, Aunt Griz. Maria, Tiff, my second cousin Del, who is a few years older than me. I like her a lot. Several more female cousins of aunts, friends of aunts, and cousins of cousins. (No men, of course. Not even Nico. All the men in Pinky’s family had vamoosed to the family pool hall.) The mayor’s wife. The wives of several important businessmen from The Hammer. All wearing the latest designer clothes. All sporting expensive rings and jewelry that had been purchased from my store.

  We were seated in Aunt Pinky’s stunning “great room.” The windows overlooking the valley were at least two stories high. In summer, when everything was in bloom, the view took your breath away. It was dark out now, so there wasn’t a lot to see except a few lights twinkling in the distance.

  When the furniture was pushed to the walls, the room could handle over a hundred guests for cocktails. Today, it held a modest thirty or so, with ample space.

  I looked around at the smiling, chatting faces and felt my heart swell. Almost every female I knew and loved was in that room.

  Missing: my mom and future mother-in-law, who were still in Florida. They’d be here for the wedding. And Lainy couldn’t be here because she was on tour in the deep south.

  Everyone has heard of my oldest and dearest friend, of course. She’s the Lainy in Lainy McSwain and the Lonesome Doves, the biggest new country singer to come out of Canada since Shania Twain.

  Lainy would be my maid of honor on “the day.”

  Tiff sat beside me on the caramel suede sofa. She was wearing black on black, as usual. Pinky sat on the other side. She lived up to her name. That was one gorgeous hot-pink dress.

  Pinky handed me the first gift box. It was from Lainy. I read the card out loud.

  “Sorry to miss yer party, hon. I’m in Louisiana tonight, and the ’gaters are rising. But wanted to send this little gift and a big fat hug. See y’all at the rehearsal dins, where I’ll be singin’ a new song for you and the stallion. Oh, and tell Nico that Pauly has found a girlfriend. Hugs and kisses.”

  Lainy called Pete “the stallion.” He seemed to like it.

  And Nico would be glad to know that Pauly the parrot had a new interest. His previous interests were swearing and pecking. That got old pretty quick.

  And so the fun began. I tore into the wrapping paper like a six-year-old kid.

  To be clear on showers—I don’t mind the opening-gifts part. The opening-gifts part was cool. I got a lot of kitchen stuff and some pretty lingerie. The lingerie was, of course, from Lainy. Pure-silk black satin, and not a lot of it. Pete would like it. Of course, Pete wouldn’t care if I wore a burlap sack, whatever the heck that was.

  Also regarding showers—I don’t mind the food part. To quote Lainy, I am “right partial” to finger sandwiches and Italian pastries.

  And the highly potent alcoholic punch was just fine. I had already chugged the first glass they gave me. I was working on the refill now.

  What I hated was the silly paper-plate hat Pinky insisted on making for me. What long-ago sadist decided that gift bows should be made into a freaking hat? Every woman in this room could have afforded the plane fare to Paris, France, just to pick out a new chapeau. Yet here they were, making me wear a bunch of dollar-store bows on my head. Assorted ribbons hung down from the brim. They tickled my nose.

  “Let’s take a photo,” said Del with a twinkle in her eye. She held up her smartphone.

  “Let’s remember I know your secrets,” I said to her in return. “And all the aunts are in this room.”

  “Oh right.” She put her phone back in her purse.

  I wore the hat for a few minutes to keep Pinky happy. It fell off three times and finally stayed off.

  “Your hair is all staticky now!” Tiff giggled.

  I tried to smooth it down with my hand and muttered, “I need some more punch.”

  “Don’t forget you have a hair appointment tomorrow afternoon, Gina.” Mandy waggled a finger at me. She was a cousin of a cousin and ran a high-end salon in town.

  “Sure. Looking forward to it.” That was a lie. I hated getting my hair done almost as much as I hated wedding showers.

  Del handed me a new glass of punch. I smiled my thanks and got to it.

  “Forgot to tell you,” Tiff said. “Mrs. Drake came into the store today after you left. She wants to have earrings made to match the sapphire ring.”

  I whistled low. “That will cost a bundle. Double of everything.” Earrings come in twos.

  “Who is Mrs. Drake?” asked Del.

  “A customer of mine at the store,” I said. “Her husband is a well-known doctor in town.”

  “Are you talking about Sherry Drake?” Pinky piped up. “They just bought a condo in Scottsdale, Arizona.”

  I turned my head. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

  Pinky’s smile could melt the coldest heart. “Sure I do. My husband is a doctor, remember?”

  And so was Sherry Drake’s husband. Sometimes I could be a ditz.

  “I heard there were a lot of bargains in Arizona after the recession,” said Aunt Griz. “Places were going real cheap.”

  “This one wouldn’t have been cheap,” Pinky said. “It’s the new condo right next to Nordstrom at the Scottsdale Fashion Center.”

  I watched several women nod. Then the conversation morphed into the merits of Nordstrom versus Neiman Marcus.

  “Sucks that everyone but us knows exactly where that place is,” grumbled Tiff.

  I had been thinking the same thing. Last spring, I went to Arizona with Pete for exactly one day. There wasn’t a lot of time to look around, because we were kind of busy. Pete likes to call that episode “The Great Shoe Fiasco.” I prefer to think of it as “Gina Bails Out the Family Yet Again.” But Pete and I got together on that trip, so I’m not complaining.

  I had a cool idea.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t I fly us down there for a few days after I get my inheritance finalized?”

  Tiff’s brown eyes popped. “Really? You mean it?”

  “Sure.” I smiled. “Just us girls. I know they have an international gem show down there in February. It’s supposed to be fab. We should go.”

  “Gina, you’re the best.”

  I couldn’t believe how happy it made me to see Tiff excited. Having a little extra money was going to be grand.

  “So what’s our timeline with the earrings?” I asked.

  “She didn’t say. Mrs. Drake wants to talk to you personally. The weirdest thing, though”—Tiff leaned toward me and lowered her voice—“she wants to pay in cash.”

  My eyebrows went up. “That’s unusual.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want a paper trail? So her husband doesn’t know how much she’s spending?”

  “Could be,” I said slowly. “Or maybe her husband isn’t footing the bill.”

  Tiff’s wide brown eyes got bigger. “You mean she’s having an affair?”

  I shrugged. “Ours is not to reason why.” Or, at least, not to spill the beans. As long as the cash wasn’t counterfeit, I didn’t care where it came from.


  Counterfeit! I snapped my fingers. That was it! That was the China connection.

  Counterfeit, Chinese, coffins…

  I must have hollered out loud, because several heads turned to me.

  “I was just remembering something I had to do,” I said to explain. Gad, my voice sounded loud.

  That’s when they started the stupid party games. I slugged back the rest of the punch in my glass. Someone handed me a piece of paper.

  “What the hell is this supposed to be?” I whispered to Tiff and pointed.

  IMDBDRIESA

  My eyesight was going wonky.

  “It’s a real word,” she said. “You have to unscramble it.”

  Did I mention that I hate stupid shower games?

  “Gina! Are you girls cheating?” It was Aunt Miriam’s voice. I instinctively trembled and prepared for another hour of misery.

  “Punch!” I yelled in desperation. Del appeared with a new glass, and I drank it down in one go.

  NINE

  The next morning I was still without a car. Pete picked me up at my condo. I didn’t even have to ask him to come and do it. That’s the kind of guy he is.

  He dropped me off at Ricci Jewelers and continued on to the Steeltown Star newspaper office.

  The first thing I did was phone Jimmy at the retirement home. He answered on the first ring.

  “Hi, Gina.”

  “Where’s my box?” I blurted into the phone. Getting Seb’s box back was my absolute first priority.

  Pause. Sounds of confused chatter. Mad Magda must have been in the room.

  I sighed. “The one that came from my store. Mario and gang picked it up by mistake yesterday.”

  “Oh. That box. I think we buried it.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Last night.”

  “You buried it?”

  “It was a nice service. You would have liked it.”

  My box got a funeral?

  “It wasn’t supposed to be buried, Jimmy! They took the wrong box.”

  More commotion. Mad Magda came on the line.

  “Gina, don’t panic. We can unbury it. I know exactly where it is. Meet us at Black Chapel Cemetery at eight tonight. Bring a few strong lads with shovels.”

  She rang off.

  I stared at the phone in my hand. My inheritance got its own funeral. This family was freaking nuts.

  What the poop was going on? I had to talk to Sammy about this. Meanwhile, I tried to look on the positive side. Something had been accomplished. At least I knew where Seb’s box was, and that it was safe. What a relief! Nico and Pete could help me get it back that night.

  My head was pounding. No more bridal-shower punch for me—not ever. I was having trouble thinking straight.

  I handled the store customers for a while as best I could. Tiff came to relieve me at noon.

  “Do you have any aspirin?” My voice was unusually high and shrill.

  She grinned and handed me the takeout coffee she had brought for me. Then she reached into her shoulder bag.

  Aspirin with a chaser of coffee. My favorite lunch.

  “Don’t forget that hair appointment,” she said.

  “Rats. I don’t have a car.” Maybe I could get out of it.

  “Nico will lend you his. He’s next door. Ask him.”

  Drat Tiff. She always had an answer for everything.

  And so Nico lent me his little red Beetle for the day.

  “This is really nice of you,” I said to him. He threw me the keys.

  “Don’t be silly, Gina. I don’t need it. I’ll be here all day sorting through stuff. Besides, think of all the things you do for me.”

  That was generous of him. Because really what I do most is get him into trouble.

  I blew him a kiss and took off to run a few errands. Then I prepared to meet my fate at the hair salon.

  Hair Today Gone Tomorrow is more upmarket than the name would lead you to believe. We have a thing about cutesy names in The Hammer. My personal favorite is O Sole Meato, the butcher shop.

  A bell rang when I opened the door. I entered and was hit in the face by white. I squinted my eyes. Gad, it was bright. The whole place was shades of white and cream. Maybe that’s why I always felt uncomfortable there. It was too clean.

  Gertie, the middle-aged receptionist, poked her head out from behind a silky curtain divider.

  “Hi, Gina. Mandy’s just finishing up with a customer. Why don’t you have a seat for a few minutes.”

  I smiled my thanks and plunked down on a white leather chair that looked brand new.

  “Can I bring you a coffee?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Thanks.” I never turned down caffeine.

  The aspirin was starting to work. More coffee would do the trick. I had a little time, so I sat back to think. Something had been niggling at me about Wally. It was almost there—I just needed to concentrate. All that talk last night of jewelry and condos in Arizona. Things were clicking into place now. A pair of sapphire earrings. Paid for with cash. By a doctor’s wife. That was key.

  I had it! It all made sense. I was Nancy friggin’ Drew after all. Nico would be wowed when I told him the goods.

  Still had time to kill. I picked up the magazine that was on top of the pile. Had to smile at the name on the cover. Association of Retired Seniors…ARS for short.

  I paged through it. The usual articles about older people who were famous actors and television personalities. An ad showing good-looking older people having the time of their lives aboard those long river-cruise ships. Several more ads for home-comfort products and face creams. I always find the ads in magazines just as entertaining as the articles.

  One ad in particular caught my interest. This was because someone had taken a black felt pen and circled it. It read:

  FLY BY NIGHT FUNERALS

  Need Help? Short on cash?

  From Rigor to Removal,

  we do the whole thing.

  Discreet Burials

  Plenty of satisfied customers.

  Call 555-PLANTUM

  (555-752-6886)

  I felt the blood leave my face. I recognized that phone number. It was the number I had used that morning to reach Jimmy.

  Crap!

  I quickly speed-dialed Sammy. It immediately went to voice mail.

  I said a very bad word.

  “Sammy, call me back as soon as you can,” I hissed into the phone.

  I sat for a moment listening to my heart pound. But I’m really not good at sitting and doing nothing. So I phoned the number in the ad. Again, it went to voice mail. A shaky voice addressed me.

  “You have reached Fly By Night Funerals… You plug ’em, we plant ’em. Please leave a number, and we will return your call as soon as possible.”

  The machine beeped at me. I clicked off without leaving a message.

  I stared at the phone in my hand. Almost immediately it began to sing “Shut Up and Drive.”

  “What’s up?” said Sammy.

  “Fly by Night Funerals. Spill it,” I said, keeping my voice low.

  “Ah.”

  Long pregnant pause.

  “Maybe we can do an information trade,” I said. “How much do you want to know about what went down the other night at La Paloma?”

  “With Wally the Wanker? I want to know. But I don’t want the cops to know,” said Sammy.

  “So we keep it to ourselves,” I said. “And Nico. Gotcha.”

  “Maybe we should meet in person. La Paloma at four?”

  It was just after three now. “I’ll be there,” I said.

  I bolted up from the leather chair and made for the door.

  “Hey! Gina, where are you going?”

  I looked back over my shoulder. Mandy stared at me. She had a white coffee mug in her hand.

  “Gotta meet Sammy! It’s urgent.”

  She nodded and waved her free hand at me. Being part of the family, she understood.

  TEN

  I picked Nico up and we
got to La Paloma at five to four. I said hi to Giacomo and Guido, who worked the kitchen, and then we went to hug Vera. She was a comfortable, soft-all-over bundle.

  Sammy came in the back way. He usually came in through the back alley if he could. “Get in the habit of doing the smart thing, so it becomes a habit” is rule thirty-one in Burglary for Dummies.

  “Ciao bella.” He gave Vera a kiss on both cheeks. Then he turned and did the same to me.

  “Espresso, Sammy?” Vera was already moving to the machine.

  “Not this time. But I could do with a plate of your cannoli, bella.”

  Yum. I go all limp for cannoli.

  “Your car is out back, Gina,” said Sammy. “I had someone drop it off.”

  “Great! Thanks.” I dragged him by the arm into the dining room and shoved him into a chair. Nico carried the plate of cannoli and sat beside him.

  “First things first.” I plunked down in the chair opposite him. “The body.”

  “Oh, that,” said Sammy, leaning back. “Yeah, I figured there was a mix-up. Your box was supposed to go to the retirement home.”

  “The retirement home? Like they need more dead bodies? They don’t create enough of their own?” This was just loony.

  “Easy, sugar. It’s simply a small business we’re supporting. Jimmy is the manager.”

  I got this cold feeling.

  “The manager of what small business?” said Nico. He reached for a cannoli.

  “A funeral business. Nothing to get excited about. They just run it from the retirement home so there aren’t that many questions.”

  Questions? I had a few questions. But before I could ask them, Sammy said, “Nobody notices a few extra bodies leaving a retirement home. Get it?”

  I was starting to get it. I remembered the ad. From rigor to removal, it had said.

  And then the answering machine message. You plug ’em—we plant ’em.

  “They’re running a business burying people who get offed?” I hissed as I was saying it.

  “Eep!” Nico squeaked.

  “We don’t off them ourselves, sweetheart,” said Sammy. “That’s the joy of it. We just do the cleanup. We’re actually providing a much-needed service. Or, at least, they are. I’m only a consultant.”

  “Jimmy? And Magda? And my great-aunt Rita?” I couldn’t believe it. Those sweet, elderly folk? Okay, maybe they had checkered pasts, but…