Chapter 18

Noah holds open the door to Mangias for Lottie and me.

He's such a gentleman. I'm sure Cooper would have done the same if he was here, but since Cooper doesn't want me anywhere near this place, he might have asked me to turn around at gunpoint.

Speaking of gunpoint, my gun might be itching to make a point with that man, but I'm not so eager. And with my Halloween deadline looming large, Uncle Jimmy's henchmen will be looking to make one with me.

Hey? Maybe I should confess my conundrum to Cooper? Then we could scoop up our pooches and head for less mob-infested waters, like Alaska.

A visual of my fingers turning into icicles and snapping off flits through my mind and I usher the thought right back out along with all thoughts of frozen tundra.

But Mangias is far from a frozen tundra. In fact, it's darn right toasty in here. No sooner do we step inside than my nose is ambushed by the intoxicating scent of garlic and marinara.

Mangias is low-key casual dining with dark wood floors, matching wood furniture, and an ode to Sinatra blaring over the speakers. The Halloween décor has exploded inside with cobwebs in every nook and cranny and grinning jack-o'-lanterns on every table. And there are even spooky spiders dangling from the ceiling, threatening to drop down on unsuspecting diners at any moment.

The place is buzzing with chatter and laughter, and the clatter of dishes and the sizzle of the grill only add to the lively atmosphere. Witches' hats bob among the crowd and they're worn by both staff and patrons alike, adding to the festive chaos.

It's like stepping into a haunted Italian villa, complete with spooky ambiance and the world's best pizza.

"Boy, this place is packed," Lottie says as she cranes her neck into the crowd. "I don't think there's a single place for us to sit."

"Even the bar is packed solid. Nothing but monsters, ghouls, and witches as far as the eye can see," Noah grunts. "I guess we could get our food to go."

I crane my neck into the crowd as well and my heart skips a beat as I spot an all too familiar brunette seated at a table with none other than Sergio Sorrentino, the exact suspect I've been itching to shake down next.

"Or we can join my sister." I practically spit out the words because I'm not too thrilled with whatever she thinks she's doing.

Although, let's face it, I should be kissing her size sevens.

How does she always seem to entangle herself in my cases?

An ironic laugh thumps through me because I have a feeling Cooper has said those exact same words about me. And I know for a fact that Noah has said them when it comes to Lottie, too.

I lead the way, navigating us through the crowd and narrowly missing a baked rigatoni to the face in the process.

There they sit, heads bent together as they laugh and plot about who knows what, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. Niki is dressed as a gypsy, a sultry vixen with far too much faux jewelry and not enough clothes to cover up her two best assets.

Sergio looks a little rough around the edges with his dark hair slightly mussed (most likely my sister's doing), his dark eyes filled with lust (definitely my sister's doing), and his hands rubbing her arms as if a cold front were about to push through.

That last part would be his doing, but if my sister has her way, he'll be doing it all night long.

What can I say? She might be dressed as a gypsy, but she'll always be a hussy at heart.

"Mind if we join you?" I ask as I pull out a seat and Noah and Lottie do the same.

"Sergio." Noah shakes the man's hand before falling in his seat. "Great to see you. Hope you don't mind if we crash the party."

"For you, there's always a seat at my table." He laughs. "You, too, Lottie." He nods my way. "And who may I ask is this lovely lady?"

"My sister," Niki snips, and by the look on her face, there's a homicide she suddenly wants to commit.

"Nice to meet you," he says, offering me a hand. "Sergio Sorrentino. Welcome to my pizza paradise."

"Oh, I'm a frequent flyer at your pizza paradise," I say. "In fact, between your paradise and Lottie's bakery, my jeans seem to be shrinking in the wash."

He belts out a good-natured laugh. "I have the same problem."

"And she's funny, too," Niki deadpans while shooting me a look that says she'll be pointing her weapon at me next. Not that Niki has a weapon, but she wouldn't be above borrowing mine. My shoes, clothes, dogs, and a couple of odd boyfriends can attest to that.

A waitress dressed as a mummy comes by with lots of marinara sauce splotched all over those strips of linen covering her and it's a disconcerting look.

We put in our orders—lots of pizza, extra garlic breadsticks, and a half sheet of lasagna. We're no fools.

"So Sergio…" Lottie leans his way. "I have to ask what you think of the new Italian place that just opened on the lake."

And just like that, the investigation is back on the table.