of white paper stuck up against the white woodwork. I hunkered down on all fours, dropped to my belly, and stretched out under the bed, grabbing the paper. When I stood up again and took a closer look someone had written Jade’s name on one side and when I flipped it over, those tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up again.
It was the same little girl in the picture in my mom’s safety deposit box, only this time she was sitting on somebody’s lap. A woman’s lap, a woman who looked a lot like Carla DeCarlo. They were both smiling those great big happy smiles, like they’d just eaten an entire double-dip ice cream cone and were thinking about seconds. What was even more remarkable was how much those smiles were identical.
That’s when I knew I was staring down at a picture of Jade Batista and her mother, Carla DeCarlo.
The motive flashed before me the instant I remembered what Federico had said the night of the party, that “olives never lie. They’re always pure.”
Carla DeCarlo had lied about her virginity.
Fifteen minutes later, I was standing on Federico’s front stoop wearing a borrowed Betsy Johnson outfit complete with skinny chocolate jeans, a bright pink ruffled mini skirt, a tight long-sleeved knit shirt complete with decorative roses, and two different jacket type things over the whole ensemble. My legs and feet were covered in over-the-knee suede boots, and I carried an Italian Capisa bag, which was fitted with a small transmitter, so Nick could keep track of me. I also wore some kind of tiny microphone wire thing inside my bra, which allowed him to hear everything.
I wasn’t so sure the microphone was a good idea considering there was no telling what my family might say at any given moment that could land one of them back in the slammer for a past dastardly deed. Nevertheless, I was trying to trap Federico and I was hoping I could get him to do most of the talking.
Lisa had dressed me for action. She said the boots had a heel that could go through bone if I stepped hard enough, plus she dropped pepper spray in my purse and slid a pocket knife down my left boot, just in case. It lodged next to my heel and with each step it reminded me that I was about to turn on a man I’d loved and admired for most of my life.
It just confirmed what Federico had taught me since I was a little girl: never trust anyone, no matter who they are.
I swung open the door on Federico’s bungalow, slapped on a happy face and said, “Room for one more?”
My mom, Benny, Aunt Hetty, Aunt Babe, Giuseppe, and Federico sat around a large oval table cluttered with cards, change, small bowls of green olives, and short glasses of red wine. Cousin Maryann sat on the sofa in the adjoining room fiddling with her accordion, while Zia Yolanda dozed next to her. The kitchen and living area was all one great big room, with a bedroom and bathroom off the kitchen.
As soon as I entered, everyone welcomed me, except for Federico who seemed to be momentarily put off. There was a subtle change in his eyes, one most people in the room wouldn’t have caught, but I did.
“Well, it’s about time,” my mom said as she got up from her chair at the table. “Everyone was getting worried. Where were you?”
I gave her a tight hug.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “I hadn’t planned on staying out all night. It sort of . . . just happened.” I did my best to color my voice with regret, but I knew Federico could detect the touch of sarcasm.
“It’s okay. We all fall off the wagon every now and then,” Mom said when we pulled apart. She couldn’t have played her part better if I had scripted it.
“Yeah,” I said while staring at Federico who stared back at me, deadpan. “A girl can only go so long without a drink, right Federico?” I turned to the others. “He helped me fall. Good thing he was there or I might have fallen right under that damn wagon, hey Uncle Federico?”
No reaction.
There was a knock at the door. Hetty answered and Uncle Ray and Val came in along with Jimmy, who was looking rather glum.
“Mia, you’re here,” Val squealed. “When your mom phoned saying you were missing, we hurried right over like she asked.”
Apparently, my mom had