Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

A s if this day couldn't get any worse, we're woefully late for Sunday dinner.

I walk into my parents' house in Grimstone Heights with Cooper by my side, both of us trying to shake off the grim sight of Frankie's lifeless body.

Grimstone Heights is more or less Leeds' little sister in terms of dinginess—smaller, but just as rundown, with an added layer of hopelessness, or two.

The moment we step through the door of my old stomping grounds, we're hit with the overwhelming scent of garlic and tomato sauce, mingling with the unmistakable smell of old wood and dust. My parents' house is a cluttered mess of over-decorated chaos. Every available surface is covered with Capodimonte porcelain figurines, ranging from cherubs to intricate floral arrangements, lots of crystal, and doilies that cover every free surface. It's sort of like stepping into an Italian museum that time forgot.

Various collectibles fight for space on crowded shelves, while framed photos of family members—some of whom I don't even recognize—line the walls in haphazard patterns. A giant, ornate gold mirror hangs in the hallway, reflecting the cramped space and making it look even cozier yet chaotic. The dining table is covered with a lacy tablecloth that's seen better days, topped with a centerpiece that was crafted in the 1970s and never retired.

It's hard to find a spot that isn't occupied by a porcelain angel or a fake fruit bowl.

No sooner do we navigate through the porcelain jungle than we come upon the unmistakable roar of a football game blaring from the living room where we find my dad and my brothers glued to the tube like it's giving out free beer and pizza.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Dad booms from his throne on the couch. They don't call him Big Tom for nothing. His body is as big as his personality, with a wreath of silver hair and dark eyes that can either warm your heart or send you running for cover. Today, like most days, they're in teddy bear mode.

Nico and Luciano give Cooper and me a wave but don't peel their eyes away from the screen for more than a second. Nico, Niki's twin, owns Last Call Lounge out in Leeds, courtesy of our late Uncle Vito. He's been pouring drinks there since he was nine—yeah, nine. Don't ask. And Luciano, the baby of the family, works with Dad in the masonry business. He's got about six girlfriends on rotation. His idea of commitment is making sure they all get a goodnight text.

"Cooper"—Dad calls out without tearing his attention from the game—"grab a seat and join us. We're just about to watch our guys wipe the floor with the other team."

"Thanks, Big Tom," Cooper says, craning his neck at the screen. "I might just take you up on that."

"Not before I feed you," I say. "If you leave hungry, Nona Jo will twist my ear off."

"I'm good at twisting body parts off, too," Nico adds, giving Cooper a dark look that more or less says, we're watching you, Detective. Break her heart, and we'll break your kneecaps.

"Understood," Cooper says as his eyes widen momentarily. It's clear he got the message.

"Nice to know I'm so well-protected," I say. "All right, let's head for the kitchen before the fumes from all this testosterone knock me out."

We make our way into the dining room where Watson runs up jumping and barking, more than happy to see us.

I sent him ahead when Niki left Frankie's place. I would have left, too, but Cooper had to take pictures of me holding the knife and document the entire fiasco for legal reasons. In other words, he was doing his job. And seeing that Niki took off with my dog and my car, I had to stick around until Cooper wrapped things up at the crime scene. Thankfully, Noah told Cooper that he could take the night off. Noah said he'd take care of the paperwork back at the precinct for him.

Niki, Serafina, and my mother happen to be seated around the dining room table, which has been cleared of any evidence regarding our traditional Sunday dinner—a culinary feat that usually includes ten courses and at least three homemade desserts.

My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Sure, I just found a dead guy and was quasi-accused of his murder by way of my boyfriend, but that's never stopped my appetite from rearing its head before, and it's certainly not starting now.

Serafina sits stringing popcorn for what I'm assuming is the upcoming Christmas tree and Niki is scrolling through her phone like her life depends on it.

"Look who finally made it," Serafina says, not looking up from her popcorn masterpiece. Instead, she tosses a piece of popcorn into the air and Watson runs right over before dutifully gobbling it up and sitting at my sister's feet. She always did know how to make a man perform.

"Hey, Coop." Niki barely glances up herself as her fingers fly across her screen. "Thanks for letting my sister get away with murder."

I growl at her in response.

"Don't listen to her." My mother stands and kisses Cooper on both cheeks. My mother, Renata, looks like me with about thirty years on her and a beehive hairdo that nearly touches the ceiling. "You're a good detective. And if my daughter so much as harmed a hair on someone else's body, I'd demand you cuff her and have your way with her. Legally speaking, of course."

"Of course," Cooper counters.

It's nice to know my mother would want the book thrown at me.

"Just so you know"—Mom continues while glancing my way, her arms still firmly wrapped around Cooper's waist as if they belong there—"I've been running around the kitchen like a caffeinated squirrel. Cupertino, I expect to see you at my table at some point during Thanksgiving."

"I wouldn't miss it." He's quick to tell her and I heat from top to bottom.

Not only are Cooper and I official, we're Thanksgiving dinner official.

"I've already started my meal prep for the big day," Mom continues. "I'm not feeding anyone myself until Thursday." She nods my way. "In the meanwhile, your dad picked up some pizzas from Tony's. They're in the kitchen. And Nona Jo is already in a coma upstairs. She had quite the day. Now get in there and eat all the pizza you find. I don't want any leftovers. I don't have room for them in the fridge."

"Will do," I say as Coop and I head into the kitchen and sit at the breakfast nook with the pizza between us. The aroma of Tony's famous pepperoni pies fills the room, making my mouth water. I grab a slice and take a big bite, savoring the gooey cheese and perfectly crispy crust.

"You okay?" Cooper asks as he leans back with a slice of pepperoni in his hand.

"I've had better days. But you know who thinks they're having a great day? Whoever killed Peter and Frankie." And ironically, it wasn't me.

"Touché," he says with a wistful tick of his head before zeroing in on me with a hardened look. "I think it's high time we get down to brass tacks, Effie. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. We both know you took out those men yourself. Admit it."