The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,23

was that Uncle Benny who smelled like a ripe berry?

“Are you wearing cologne?” I asked, my face only inches from his.

“What the hell kind of question is that?” When he spoke I caught the scent of tobacco not berries.

He moved away from me in a flurry of frustration and pushed himself up to stand next to Lisa who had managed to get off the millstone on her own. I remained on the floor, and slid in closer to Dickey and there it was again . . . berries. I eased myself up a bit, the stone mill pressing in on my back. That’s when I spotted Dickey’s left hand pressing up against the millstone—obviously an attempt at stopping the stone from crushing him—twisted abnormally flat against his chest. His perfect manicure now ruined with broken nails and traces of blood.

I stared at his hand for a moment thinking something else was wrong with it. Then it came to me. The horseshoe pinky ring I’d given him was missing. And not only was the ring missing, but his pinky was covered in glistening olive oil that pooled on his suit coat and stained his golden shirt. I didn’t have to get closer to know it was our Italian blend, the same oil my mom’s handgun was now floating in.

Dickey had said the ring was going to give somebody heartburn. Could that heartburn have turned into murder?

Uncle Benny leaned over toward me. His graying hair slicked back with olive oil, no doubt, and his black, trendy Italian-framed glasses sliding down his Roman nose. “Get the hell out of there, will you? I do not like you lying with that piece of shit. It ain’t right. What are you doing? The man is dead.”

I grabbed Benny’s arm, slid out from under the millstone and stood. “Sounds as if you didn’t like Dickey much.”

“Too hungry for power. I have no use for that kind of person. Plus, he killed a woman. Murder is one thing, but killing your own woman, that is something I do not condone.”

It was comforting to know Uncle Benny’s murder limits, just in case I ever stumbled on a dead girlfriend of his. At least I could cross him off the list of suspects.

“But wasn’t he just cleared of that murder?”

He smirked, as if I should know better. “Let us just say he was cleared of being in close proximity when the event took place. That does not mean he did not have anything to do with the event.”

I hadn’t thought of that, probably a good thing.

“What’s going on in here?” Jimmy asked, appearing behind Uncle Benny.

“Dickey’s dead,” Lisa announced as she brushed herself off and carefully checked her hands and face for injuries.

“No shit. Want I should clean it up?” He looked at me when he said it.

“No. We’re calling the police,” I told him. He took a couple steps back, as if he was getting ready to bolt.

Jimmy had that innocent, freshly-washed looking face, bright amber eyes, perfectly shaped nose, high cheekbones, and creamy skin that always had a hint of a shine. Not an oily shine, more of a clean glow. Other than my dad, he was by far the best looking man in the family, and he knew it. He went through women like a kid goes through crayons. He even dated Lisa for about a minute a few years ago, but she figured him out before their second kiss and dumped him. Lisa was always better at dating than I was. She could spot a truly bad boy just by the way he stood or laughed.

I, on the other hand, could always pick them out in a crowd, but instead of walking away, I would be dawn to them like a masochistic moth that can’t seem to avoid the flame. Case in point: Leonardo Russo.

“Hey everybody, party’s outside. Whoa!” Uncle Federico spotted Dickey and his eyes bugged for a moment, then he looked away. I almost detected a slight grin, but it vanished as soon as it appeared. “This looks real bad. Tell me it was some kind of accident.” He stopped just inches behind Uncle Benny and Jimmy.

And I had so hoped Lisa and I could keep this to ourselves for awhile.

Who was I kidding?

“Not an accident,” Lisa said, shaking her head.

“You mean somebody whacked’ em?” Uncle Ray asked. I hadn’t even seen him come in. It was as if he just materialized out of the shadows. His large frame dominated the cramped space