The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,68

platters. Various types of domestic and imported cheese, cured olives, and Federico’s tapenade sat next to the desserts. There were several bottles of our award winning oils waiting to be poured. A tray of sliced Italian cold meats and several loaves of crusty Italian bread along with a large Caprese salad would tempt even the strictest of dieters, not that you could find one such person in this group. Good food was our life, and we had the bodies to prove it. Not that any of us was obese, but anorexia was not a disease anyone in this family would ever have to battle.

And of course, what Italian feast would be complete without several bottles of red wine? I counted fifteen, but I felt certain that was just for starters.

I sighed at the thought.

“I think I have my drinking under control, but lately I’ve been craving alcohol more than usual. No wonder, considering what’s been going on around me.” I decided to spill my guts a little, just to see if I could catch a tell from one of these rehab cases who might lead me in the right direction. “I just want to let the person who whacked Dickey and tried to run us off the road today know that I’m closer to finding you than you think.”

This was a total lie, but I figured it might make somebody a little nervous and that somebody might give me a clue to his or her identity.

Of course, I was taking a risk that the relatives who were visiting didn’t know about Dickey’s demise, and that my mom was somehow still in the dark, which was doubtful, but I figured my confession served as a future warning that murder was no longer an acceptable form of self expression.

Then I gave the entire room my best evil eye, a sort of squint mixed with tight lips and a slight furrow on my forehead. My dad had taught me this technique when I was a kid. Some of the women in my family could no longer do it because of all the Botox they’d had injected. That stuff should come with a warning label for Italians: After use of this product, the evil eye is no longer possible.

I waited and watched, but no one moved or coughed or even blinked for that matter.

And just as I was about to give up, I saw a guy on the far end of the third row shuffle his feet and rake his fingers through his long dark-chocolate hair. Then, as if someone had given the all clear signal, everyone moved or coughed or twitched. My plan had completely failed except for the guy I couldn’t quite make out. Could he have been the killer? I tried to get a better look, but Uncle Benny was blocking my view.

Suddenly Lisa spoke. “My name is Lisa Lin and I’m a lingerie junkie.”

“Welcome, Lisa,” the group echoed. I turned and stared at her. This was total news to me.

“I have drawers and drawers filled with expensive underwear and I can’t stop buying it.”

She shrugged. I continued to stare at her, fascinated by this revelation.

The only way Uncle Ray and Uncle Benny had agreed to let us in was if we participated. Apparently, Lisa took them seriously. The one rule Uncle Ray insisted we follow was the rule that all AA meeting attendees abide by: what’s said in the AA meeting stays in the AA meeting, or in this case the MA meeting.

All my relatives listened as Lisa spoke, especially the men, who seemed to be especially focused on her every word.

“It’s like every time I pass a Victoria’s Secret or the lingerie department in Bloomingdale’s I have to check it out. And once I step inside I turn into another person. I lose all control. I now own an abundance of fancy underwear, from lacy thongs with real pearls embroidered on the tiny bit of fabric on the backside, to silky bras with crystals stitched across the tops of the cups. I have so much of the stuff that most of it still bears the price tags. I simply don’t know how to stop myself.” Big tears rolled down her cheeks, and Uncle Ray reached across the aisle and handed her his white hankie.

It was sweet to see such chivalry. These ex-Made Men were hiding a murderer, and one of them had probably tried to run us off the road today, but they were quick to show sympathy to