The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,53

a sign she had nothing to do with the frame-up or did she blanch because she knew something? My gut told me this was news, and now she would be a more willing snitch.

“Is that what this is all about, kid? Somebody tried to frame your mom? Again?”

“What do you mean, again?”

“Don’t you remember? You’re mom was a suspect when your dad disappeared. Them cops sniffed around her for a long time, even tapped her phone.”

“But I always thought the phone tap had to do with everybody else.”

“You was young, probably why you don’t remember the facts so good. And now somebody set her up for wastin’ Dickey? Sporco Diavolo.”

I didn’t want to tell her any of the details just yet, so I didn’t answer, but I knew she could read me. Val could always read me. It was as if she had a window into my head.

She shook her head, and let out a couple sarcastic little guffaws. “Ain’t nothin’ changed? Ain’t nobody sacred in this family?” She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. Then, satisfied with what she saw, she whispered, “Look for the person who maybe’s got a fucked up past with your mom, might have the most to gain or was scared of Dickey’s return ‘cause Dickey knew that person set him up for Carla’s murder. If that’s the case, then your mom, unfortunately, was the easy scapegoat. That’s all I’m gonna say on the subject, kid. But, my advice? Like Paul McCartney says, Let it be. Dickey screwed me over with my first husband and he’s the reason why I got this here scar to remind me of them two every day. Dickey got what he had comin’.” She started to turn away, but something else was on her mind. “Oh, and one more thing. Get that Jade girl outta here. Never know what could happen if she hangs around too long. She’s trouble. Past trouble, if you know what I mean. But you didn’t hear any of this from me.”

With that she sashayed back to her customers.

My head raced with information. What did she mean that Jade was “past trouble?” This was the first time I’d heard about her, and I thought the first time for everyone. But once again, the family was hiding something from me.

And what was she talking about that my mom had been a suspect for my missing father? How could that possibly have happened? Did my mom know what happened to my dad but neglected to tell me?

The possibility was too disturbing to dwell on, so I told myself I’d deal with it later. One disappearance at a time, and right now, Dickey’s was on the top of my list.

I hadn’t really focused in on the fact that Jade could be a threat to the killer, but Val knew what this family was capable of better than I did. She was privy to the monthly secret meetings, and I wasn’t. Not that I couldn’t attend, I simply never thought they were something I needed to hear, until now.

The next meeting started at nine, and this time I intended to be there.

ELEVEN

The Kill Zone

Dolci Picolli sat at the end of a row of storefronts down the red brick path. Wine-colored mums bloomed from clay pots along the path and in front of most of the shops. Young olive trees lined the pavement with their slender leaves gently dancing in the wind, showing off their soft white underbellies. A few of the clay pots were filled with more traditional autumn colors of burnt orange or yellow mums, giving everything that wonderful fall glow.

My mom had said Aunt Babe was showing Jade around. She’d be safe with Aunt Babe . . . at least I hoped so.

The narrow path was dotted with shoppers meandering in and out of the stores, carrying bags announcing Spia’s Olive Press and the individual store name or logo. As I walked, thinking that not only was I suddenly desperate for a dozen Amaretto cookies (baked goods made with alcohol were my one allowable indulgence), but I hadn’t really eaten in over twenty-four hours. Murder was a great hunger suppresser.

When I walked into the Dolci Piccoli, Aunt Hetty was behind the large glass baker’s case helping a couple customers, an older man and an attractive woman with shiny gray shoulder length hair. They were speaking Italian with Hetty, who lapped it up. She loved to revert back to Italian whenever she had the chance. When