Lacey Luzzi: Sauced: A humorous, cozy mystery! (Lacey Luzzi Mafia Mysteries Book 4) by LaManna Gina

Author:LaManna, Gina [LaManna, Gina]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: organized crime, scary, comedy, amateur, theft, , urban, heist, racy, robbery, assassin, fun, mob, female protagonist, mafia
Publisher: Amazon
Published: 2015-06-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

A good night’s rest can do a lot for a person.

I rolled over around ten a.m. the next morning, feeling refreshed, energized, and excited for life. I sang a miniature happy birthday ditty in my head, which wasn’t as fun as it’d initially sounded. I knew for a fact that I sang terribly out loud, but I’d never realized that I sounded off-key even in my own head.

Foregoing my self-serenading extravaganza, I focused instead on Meg’s birthday wishes murmured in the wee hours of the morning. That alone had been enough of a reminder that people cared about me, and I was being a bit silly with my woe is me thoughts. Sitting up, I gratefully acknowledged that thirty felt pretty good, and that I was lucky to have such a sparkly life overall. It wasn’t always perfect, but it could be really darn great. I had a roof over my head, sugar in my coffees, and a foot of licorice rope that looked like real rope waiting for me in one of Meg’s pockets. I had a loving Family who provided me with a job, and speaking of said job…

I had stuff to do.

I’d planned to get up early and hit the road running, but after my late night discovery about the bomb’s non-existent threat, the pressure to move quickly had all but dissolved. Now, my worst case scenario was that I wouldn’t find the sauce. If that happened, Carlos could use a little salt and pepper as seasoning. Or ketchup. It wouldn’t kill anyone.

Blips of conversation filtered through my almost closed bedroom door. I could make out Meg’s spirited voice followed by Clay’s calmer one.

I’ll give them a few minutes, I thought as I rolled over and closed my eyes.

I never expected to fall asleep again, but the next time I looked at the clock it was forty minutes later and time for me to get a move on. Dressing in my most comfortable workout pants and a yoga-inspired, loose charcoal-gray tank top, I looked the part of someone headed to the gym.

The last place on my birthday I wanted to end up was the gym, but even less desirable than heading to the gym was the thought of cramming my legs into jeans. Especially since the day ahead promised a lot of movement. We had to visit Horatio’s grandmother and deliver the news about Grease Ball. I was still debating whether or not we’d tell her about the odd experience with the log cabin in the backyard. For all intents and purposes, our friend seemed to be a normal suburban guy tucked away in his normal suburban home with a lack of shampoo.

The fact that he shot guns at intruders didn’t help our case for “normal.” Then again, I lived with a man who’d built a laying desk, I’d kissed a different man who may or may not list assassin on his resume, and my best friend wore an orange mohawk helmet on the regular. Normal was subjective.

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