The Spia Family Presses On (16 page)

Jade Batista, a twenty-something tour guide on Alcatraz Island
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a coincidence, I’m sure
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was dressed in black skinny jeans, four-inch black heels, a black thigh-length sweater, accessorized in dangly silver, sat on my sofa sipping tea after she had added two packets of that pink stuff, which she pulled out of her super-sized, black, hobo bag complete with Woodstock fringe.

According to my mom, who’d brought her to my apartment
—
thank you very much
—
Jade had arrived about an hour ago looking for her fiancée, Dickey Spia.

“Naturally, when my honey-bear didn’t return my calls I got worried,” Jade told us as she carefully placed the white mug down on the coaster on my coffee table.

“Naturally,” I said feeling a bit woozy from all the excitement.

Lisa also sat on sofa still wearing my oversized baby-blue flannel pajamas with the golden stars and quarter moons, sipping tea like it meant something. My mother sat in the rocker dressed in a deep red granny skirt she kept rolled at her waist and a floral peasant blouse with sleeves that covered her hands, also sipping on a cup of Palm Court tea. Go figure. I was perched on the arm of my sofa, next to Lisa, unable to commit to either sitting or standing, staring at our guest, who looked vaguely familiar in that extended-honorary-family sort of way.

And Dickey’s pinky finger was stashed in the back of my freezer, tucked inside a snack-sized Ziplock.

“What time did you last talk to him?” I asked, still working on that timeline for Dickey’s murder.

“I guess it was about seven-ish because that’s when the hybrid ferry docks to take some of us back to the city. I work for National Parks and Recreation and my shift ends at six-thirty, but the ferry doesn’t arrive until about seven. Anyway, that’s when I make all my phone calls or Twitter or text my friends. While I’m waiting for the ferry. One of my friends, Monica, wouldn’t stop talking, ya know? She’s like that, always talking even when she doesn’t have anything to say, ya know? Don’t you hate that?”

I nodded.

She continued without prompting. “That’s why I didn’t call Dickey until I got on the ferry. But we talked all the way in.”

“And how long did that take?”

“The usual time, fifteen minutes. I didn’t want to get off the phone with him, but he said he had to go because somebody wanted to talk to him. Then the phone cut out. I tried to call him back ‘cause I thought it was my phone, sometimes it does that, ya know? But when I called him he didn’t answer.”

“Did he ever pick up again?”

But I already knew the answer to that one.

She shook her head. “No. Isn’t that weird? I mean, I had no choice but to come looking for him. Right? He coulda been dead on the road or something, ya know? But when I pulled in by that barn building, like Benny told me to, and saw Dickey’s black SUV was still here, I was relieved that he wasn’t dead, ya know? Or lying in some hospital hurt and lonely for his baby-girl. That’s what he calls me, his baby girl ‘cause I’m so much younger than him. Not that it matters when you’re in love. Age doesn’t mean a damn thing when you’re in love, ya know?”

We nodded in unison.

“Anyway, where is he? I mean, I know how much my honey-bear has looked forward to sleeping in. They don’t get to do that in prison, what with all the noise. Plus, the guards wake ‘em early for breakfast.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting close to lunchtime. He likes that meal and probably won’t want to miss it. You think he’s still sleeping?”

We nodded again, like bobbing heads on a spring.

“Well, I don’t want to wake him, but—” she paused, placing her bent index finger up to her glossy pink lips, tapping, as if she was thinking of something. It was the first time I noticed the rather large pink rock on her ring finger, no doubt an engagement ring from Dickey. An engagement ring that was worth more money than an ex-con should be able to put together in the short time he’d been a free man, but I was digressing.

Jade’s blond hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail. Large silver hoops hung from her earlobes. “Maybe if you guys don’t mind, you can tell me where he is and I can surprise him. He might like that.”

“Sure,” my mother agreed, and before I could stop her, she was standing. “I put all his things in one of my upstairs bedrooms.”

Mom had me completely stymied. I couldn’t figure out what the woman was thinking. Either she had no clue that Dickey was actually dead, or she was simply playing some sort of elaborate game with Jade. Either way, from the look on Jade’s innocent face, Mom had her wrapped around her finger.

Jade smiled and stood to follow my mom’s lead to the door.

“He told me not to wake him, no matter what,” I blurted out for no other reason than to stall my mom’s departure.

“Yeah,” Lisa said. “I heard him. He looked exhausted when he said it.”

“Dead tired,” I added.

Okay, I knew that was over the top, macabre even, but I was desperate to stall her. Not that stalling her had much benefit in the long run, but I was hoping something might pop into my head that could somehow resolve this situation.

“That’s all right. I’m sure he won’t mind if I wake him,” Jade said, looking all vampy, running a hand down her full, round body. “He likes when I wake him up. I have my own special way of doing it, if you know what I mean,” she cooed as her voice trailed off.

“I bet you do, but Mia’s right,” Lisa said. “He was really tired last night, what with all the family stuff going on. Plus, he drank a lot of wine.”

“Yeah, a lot of wine. He’s probably going to have a mean hangover. It won’t be pleasant,” I added.

But Jade couldn’t be stopped. She had reached my front door, had the door open and was on her way to find her “honey-bear.”

“I’ve got just the thing for that,” she announced, all smiley faced. “Oral sex. It works every time. Something about their blood rushing down there that does it. It works for girls, too, but not as well. I never could figure that one out, but it sure does start your morning with a bang, ya know?”

She snickered.

That stopped me cold. In all my years of hangovers, and I’d had more than my share, I never thought about sex, much less oral sex as a cure. It was difficult enough just to open my eyes in the morning. If ever I drank again, which was looking more like a possibility, I’d have to try the oral sex cure.

Leo had that category covered.

My mother’s eyes fluttered about a hundred times. She turned a bright crimson, a sure sign she was desperately trying to gain composure and appear somewhat cool. Whenever someone other than Aunt Babe said anything even remotely sexual, Mom went into some kind of temporary meltdown. I didn’t exactly know why it never seemed to bother her when Aunt Babe started a sexual innuendo kick, but whenever anyone else did, she fell into an immediate tailspin.

Happily, it only lasted a couple minutes, if that.

“By the way, darling,” my mom said, speaking directly to me. “The clasp must have broken on my charm bracelet last night because I can’t find the darn thing anywhere. I really shouldn’t have worn it, but Dickey gave it to me for my birthday right before all the trouble started, and I knew he’d be tickled if he saw I was still wearing it. Which he was, but sometime during the night it must have fallen off. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t seem to find it. Do you think you might try? I feel awful about losing it.”

I walked over to my closet, and slipped it out of the pocket I’d shoved it into the previous night. “Is this it?” I asked holding the incriminating bracelet in the palm of my hand.

“You found it!” Her face lit up. “But where, sweetheart?”

“In the barn, under . . . something.”

I saw the flash of recognition in her eyes. But as quickly as it appeared it vanished and a cool smile shadowed her eyes. I knew that smile. It was forever present whenever we both knew there was avoidance circling around us.

“Thank you, dear. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Actually, I think I do.”

We hugged briefly and she slipped out the door with Jade in tow. I suddenly had the sick feeling that my mom wasn’t completely innocent, but how much she knew, and how involved she may or may not be was now the burning question.

I could hear her chatting up a storm with Jade about Dickey, the orchard and the benefits of olive oil. I wondered if like Goldilocks, Jade would have a rude awakening when she crawled in Dickey’s bed, or if my mom had already figured out an exit strategy. Either way, Jade was not going away until she found her “honey-bear.”

I closed the door and Lisa said, “You realize you just handed over vital evidence? And don’t tell me your mom’s totally innocent of this. I saw that look she gave you. That woman knows something.”

“Yeah, but what?”

“If you weren’t my best friend, I’d start walking and never look back. Are you sure we can’t leave for Maui tonight?”

“Not a good idea, especially since the killer thinks we have his precious ring. We may never make it to the airport.”

“Scare me more, why don’t you,” Lisa said.

“I think my family hid the body and the quest for the ring is something only one of them wants. A body has to be easier to find than a ring. If we find the body then the killer can’t blackmail us.”

“Okay, we concentrate on finding the body.”

But I still wasn’t sure. “But what do we do with it once we find it? How do we explain everything to Nick and not send everybody to prison, us included?”

I poured myself another cup of tea.

“I told you, I can take care of Nick.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s all cop, and even you can’t change that.”

“But it’ll be a lot of fun trying.”

She beamed confidence.

“Okay, so we’re back on the trail of a missing body.”

“For now, that’s the plan,” she said.

“Good, ‘cause that part about how nobody will miss one less mobster, I think Jade Batista just became Ms Nobody.”

Thirty minutes later, dressed in hiking boots, jeans, and a long-sleeved, cream sweater, I was standing in my mother’s kitchen grilling Uncle Benny about the missing body. I hadn’t thrown in the part about the finger yet, or the missing ring bit. I guess I was saving that morsel of information for later when I was completely desperate. At the moment I was trying for somewhat optimistic, even with Jade’s appearance.

Benny sat at the table, drinking coffee out of an oversized pink mug with red hearts. He wore his threadbare picking clothes, complete with a Panama straw hat that had seen better days. Lisa was in my shower, and Jade was off somewhere with Aunt Babe who was probably trying to convince her to help pick olives. Everyone was recruited when it came time to harvest: relatives, friends, several day laborers who were familiar with hand-harvesting olives, and of course, a neighbor or two who had their own personal harvest to tend to and would be in need of help in the coming weeks.

We were currently picking our koroneiki olives in their young, deep green stage. This usually took a couple weeks of harvesting. Federico would oversee the first crush. We didn’t like our fruit to sit more than twenty-four to forty-eight hours, mold could set in. We’d store the oil for blending later with other more mature olives, like the mission or pendolino, depending on the label he and Mom wanted. The high content of polyphenols not only produced a higher level of antioxidants, but it also made for a longer shelf life, not to mention that distinctive grassy flavor with a peppery finish.

“Just tell me what you did with the body and I’ll take care of the rest,” I said, trying to sound as if I knew what “the rest” was going to be, because in truth, I didn’t have a clue.

“I am telling you, I am just as puzzled as you are,” he said while chewing on his cigar.

As it turned out, when Jade and my mom discovered that Dickey wasn’t in his room, and his SUV had gone missing Jade decided to wait for Dickey’s return.

How long could this family keep up the hoax?

“Oh, give it up. You expect me to believe you didn’t bury him somewhere? Like under the old olive tree next to the barn? That Jimmy and Ray didn’t help you?”

“I swear on my father’s grave, I have no idea what happened to that body. I am glad it is gone, but I did not move it.”

“Swearing on your father’s grave doesn’t work. The man tried to have your mother killed. You hate your father.”

“That is beside the point, Mia. I do not denigrate the dead.”

“I’d feel better if you swore on your mother’s grave.”

His face went hard. “That, I cannot do. She was a saint, may she rest in peace.” He softened, made the sign of the cross and looked toward the ceiling or heaven in his case. “I make it a point never to use my dear mother when I am swearing. Swearing in front of my mother is not something I would ever have done.”

“You’re not swearing, like in saying a dirty word, you’re taking an oath that you’re telling the truth. You, of all people know the difference.”