The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,66
what Nick had to say about Dickey, which wasn’t much more than he’d already told us at the hospital.
“But,” she cautioned, “we won’t be able to hold him off much longer. That blood stain is making him nuts. He already contacted that worker your mom told him about who disassembled the millstone, but good thing for us, they’ve been playing phone tag. He may have caught up with him by now, and if he has, we could be royally screwed.”
“Not necessarily. My mom doesn’t lie, she sometimes leaves out important details, but she never flat out lies, at least I don’t think she does. The guy probably did cut himself so that’ll buy us a little more time.”
I filled Lisa in on everything Jade had told me over broccoli sautéed in our Artisan Blend along with a clove of garlic, and sprinkled with pine nuts. Broccoli sautéed in our Mission extra virgin olive oil was just what we needed after the day we had. The combination is rich in phenols, vitamin C and minerals. For our entrée I served grilled marinated scallops drizzled with a lemony-fennel dressing. I might not be able to drive us out of danger, but I could cook us out of an adrenalin overload anytime.
Lisa sipped a glass of Moscato Bianco from Jacuzzi winery, one of my favorites, a wine with floral aromas and a tropical note. I drank sparkling water with a lemon slice. I whole-heartedly craved a glass of Moscato, but I didn’t think I was quite ready to partake. More therapy was required before those fine fermented grapes touched these wanton lips. It was bad enough that I’d made love to Leo—I knew a glass of wine would clearly throw me into the danger zone. A place I’d seen many times before and intended never to see again.
“So, what you’re saying is that you think whoever killed Carla De Carlo, set up Dickey to take the fall. And now that same person killed Dickey and tried to set up your mom?”
I dunked a piece of crusty bread in a mixture of Mission EVOO, our white balsamic vinegar and fresh chopped herbs that grew in pots on my deck. “It makes perfect sense.”
I took a big luscious bite of bread. A burst of flavors reminded me why I loved our oils so much. There was simply nothing that compared to the mild grassy taste with a hint of pepper, basil, garlic and rosemary.
“But why?”
“Because I think Dickey figured out who that person was and he was going to do something about it. Remember, he told me he didn’t hold a grudge, he got even. I think he was here to get even, not to take the orchard back like the rest of my family thought, and the killer figured that out.”
“Okay, and did you figure out who?”
“No. we’re going to have to do some digging for that answer, and I know just where to get the shovels.”
The secret meeting took place exactly at nine p.m., which had given both Lisa and me enough time to catch a couple hours of much needed sleep.
By the time we were headed down the path looking for the out-building somewhere in the middle of our property, we were both ready to get back in the murder game. There were no designated roads that led to it, only a maze through the olive orchard, and if you didn’t know the correct turns it was virtually impossible to find, especially in the dark. I knew the roof was camouflaged with fake olive branches and leaves so no one could pick it out from the air. My mom had told me at least that much about it, but even she wasn’t privy to its location, nor did she want to be. Of course, that little conversation took place about a year ago. There was no telling what she knew now.
Lisa, wearing my best white sweater with a Donna Karen gray suede vest lined with a trendy lighter gray faux fur, and my barely worn Diesel jeans—which fit her ass much better than mine—along with her Dolce and Gabbana boots, had brought along a night scope that allowed us to find our way without too much tripping. She told me she never went anywhere without her night scope, a stun gun, a Swiss Army knife, three feet of heavy string, two feet of rope, a pack of gum, and candy red lipstick. She said I’d be surprised all she could do with