The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,70
for fifteen minutes in the mornings. I heard about it on Oprah, and I gotta say, after a couple days of the stuff—and the fact that the louse is finally dead—I’m feeling a lot less like I should hit something.”
Silence.
I so needed to get Hetty alone after the meeting. The woman reeked of information.
“My name is Maryann, and I’m a user.”
This I knew.
“Welcome, Maryann.”
She continued. “I’m very sad that Dickey’s dead and that his body has gone missing. At least if I knew where he was buried I could pay my last respects with a proper accordion sendoff. I have friends who also play, and we have an entire concerto planned for just this occasion. But, this way, I can’t get closure and it’s making me cry all the time, play sad songs and even, God forbid, think about drugs. If somebody knows where he is, and I have a strong feeling somebody in this room does, please let me know so I can send him off, proper like. You have my solemn promise I won’t rat you out if you tell me.” She held up her right hand, oath style.
No one moved. Everyone seemed to be staring at the floor.
“Oh, and I want to say that I’m sorry if I caused the family any grief when I phoned that nice Leonardo Russo to invite him to Dickey’s party. I thought I was doing a good thing for our Mia. He’s been really working hard at becoming a better person. Even sees a shrink every week, at least that’s what I heard. I had no idea he would bring that nosey cop, Nick Zeleski. I had nothing to do with the cop joining him. And that’s all I’m gonna say on the subject.”
Zia Yolanda filled the room with a forlorn, sniffly sob and I felt as though I should join her.
Leo was actually trying to be a better person. Great news. But the man was still a liar. I wondered if there were Liars Anonymous meetings because those might actually do him some good.
“My name is Jimmy, and I gotta get something off my chest.” Uncle Benny cleared his throat. Jimmy shuffled his feet and his face went pale. “I mean, I’m an alcoholic, but I’m doin’ good. Thanks.”
“Welcome, Jimmy.”
He slouched in his chair next to me. Something was definitely up.
“What the—” Lisa quietly mouthed.
“We need to talk to that man,” I whispered.
“And fast,” she said.
Giuseppe coughed and stood up this time, his right side facing me, making hand gestures as he spoke. “I think I got one more thing I need to say,” he said in English. “The family in Calabria, they send me to America to reclaim something from Dickey, but he would not part with this something, which I am very sad about. But now, because things they have changed, I need this something as the proof that Dickey—he’s not gonna show up somewhere still making the trouble. If I can have this proof I would be always grateful. Please, I mean no disrespect, but it is very bad for me if I can not have the proof. Mili grazie.”
He sat down.
That’s when I suddenly recognized him. Giuseppe was Leo, not the real Leo, but he looked enough like the real Leo that I’d mistaken my Leo for the Giuseppe-Leo. It was the beard that threw me. This was the guy on my Leo’s porch arguing with Dickey. This was the guy who probably phoned Dickey for a meeting, a meeting that Dickey arranged someplace public. That explained Leo’s wine on the table at my mom’s party. It all made sense now.
How could I have been so stupid? I could see now that he wasn’t as tall as my Leo, his hair was a little lighter, and his body . . . well, I didn’t want to dwell on his body . . . but what was even worse, I had accused my Leo of lying when it had been this faux Leo all along.
I truly had to do some major sucking up to my Leo tomorrow night at the Martini Madness Ball, which I was suddenly truly looking forward to.
Giuseppe reverted to Italian. His face flushed and he went deadly serious, his voice going up an octave. “If I cannot get this something I was sent to retrieve, let me make myself perfectly clear, the family in Calabria will not take this news well. It will be bad for me, but it will be worse for