The Spia Family Presses On

FIFTEEN

Sex, Lies and a Double-Cross

“Wait a minute,” Lisa ordered, standing next to the island between us, arms stretched wide. “Somebody’s going to get hurt.”

We stopped just long enough for me to come to my senses. I was participating in the madness. This had to stop, although the fact that Babe had the ring while the killer was busy planning his next attack on Lisa and me made me want to hurl more than cakes.

“That’s the point,” Hetty quipped and flung a glop of red preserves, using a huge spoon like a catapult, right at Lisa. She ducked and it landed on the six burner stove behind her.

Hetty reloaded and flung the glop at Babe. Hetty made contact and grinned her success.

“She’s full of bunk,” Babe yelled after the red preserves splashed on her now pink hair. “She’s the one who snuffed out Dickey and now she’s trying to pin it on me just because I have that damn ring.”

She threw a plate of almond biscotti at Hetty. Fortunately, the plate was of the thin plastic variety, so when it crashed into my nose spilling the biscotti all around me, it didn’t hurt . . . much.

Lisa was up and grabbed at Hetty’s arms. “You ladies have to stop. What about, you can poke an eye out?”

“Two eyes would be better!” Babe retorted.

“You’re full of dog doo, Babe,” Hetty yelled. “You know you did it, you little vixen. Admit it before I go for what’s in the walk-in.”

The walk-in contained anything they may have baked for an event, such as a wedding. I knew for a fact they had two weddings coming up that weekend. The walk-in would be full. This had to end or we’d have the wrath of two bridezillas on our hands, not to mention two mamazillas, who, I was sure, would be much worse.

I ran for Babe just as she was about to hurl an entire perfectly frosted Snoopy sheet cake, with the words Happy Birthday Sammy emblazoned on Snoopy’s belly in bright red letters.

“Put Snoopy down and step away from the table,” I ordered in my most commanding voice.

She poised Snoopy for launch, his little smile looking almost sinister as he bobbed up and down next to Babe’s head. “I will if she’ll admit the truth.”

“You did it, and that’s the truth,” Hetty said.

“Whore,” Aunt Babe yelled.

“Liar,” Aunt Hetty countered, her eyes narrowing to tight little slits.

I thought I’d go for the heartstrings. “You don’t want to do this. Little Sammy will be so disappointed without his Snoopy cake. He might cry all day.”

“It’s Sammy Nagossi,” Babe told me.

“Isn’t he in his nineties?” I asked.

“Ninety-four. He’s lucky if he knows it’s his birthday,” Hetty quipped.

“But it’s Snoopy. You can’t fling Snoopy. That’s like a sin or something.”

“She doesn’t care one hoot about Snoopy or Sammy or anybody,” Hetty protested. “After all these years, I finally figured out that my sister is heartless. The only thing she cared about is her personal vendetta—getting even because the bastard cheated on her with me and Carla. So she pushed that millstone on top of him, pulled off that stupid ring, and shot Dickey in the head so she could get her revenge. She’s worse than the men in the family. At least they wouldn’t have squashed the prick first.”

“Like I have the strength for that kind of action,” Aunt Babe shot back. “You’re the doll who can boost a fifty-pound bag of flour over her shoulder. You did it because you still think the son of a bitch killed your precious Carla. DNA proved he didn’t.”

Babe got a better grip on the cake. Hetty quickly went over to the walk-in and pulled out the top of a perfectly frosted wedding cake.

That’s when what Babe had just said struck me.

“Wait,” I yelled turning to Hetty. “Your precious Carla? What does that mean?”

Lisa said, “It means what you think it means.”

I turned to Babe. She nodded and shrugged.

I turned back to Hetty. “You’re a lesbian? Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but I—”

She flung batter at me. “Don’t give me that Seinfeld bunk. In this family there’s a lot wrong with it.” She turned to Aunt Babe. “Now you’ve done it real good. She’s going to blab it to Benny and Ray and pretty soon no one will talk to me. I may as well wear a big red L on my back.”

Hetty put the wedding cake down, dropped to the floor, sat with a plop right on a smashed pound cake and began to cry.

Babe carefully placed Snoopy back on the island, pushing broken cakes and globs of cookie dough out of her way then she rushed over to Aunt Hetty, plopping down on the floor next to her.

“I won’t tell anybody, honest,” I said, but it was too late. Tears gushed as Hetty slid down on the floor in a heap. I’d never seen her cry before, not even at funerals, and believe me, in this family, there were a lot of funerals. I somehow thought she was incapable of any other emotion but contention.

Lisa glared at me as she walked over. “Nice move.”

I shrugged. “I had no idea.”

She leaned in and whispered. “Do you live on another planet or what? I think you’re the only one who hadn’t figured it out years ago.”

“Then why is she so upset if everybody already knows?”

“Sweetie, by definition your family has that don’t ask, don’t tell policy going on. It’s how a borgata thinks.”

“I know that,” I said, crossing my arms. “But it just irks me that I know so little about my own family.”

Lisa raised an eyebrow.

Aunt Babe threw me a sympathetic sigh while Aunt Hetty gazed up at me, cake-smeared cheeks stained with tears, her lipstick in big streaks across her lips and chin, cake, cookies, and batter encrusted on all parts of her squat little body. For once her hair didn’t stick straight up. If it wasn’t for the occasional brown glop dripping off of it, the new ‘do looked rather normal. “Nobody knew back then. It was our secret. Me and Carla were moving to Amsterdam to start a new life.”

“Amsterdam!” I bellowed, wondering why the heck would two middle-aged Italian women move to Amsterdam.

Hetty wiped her tears away with her gooey fingers, streaking chocolate chip cannoli filling under her eyes and across her puffy cheeks making her look like a vanilla ice cream cone with sprinkles. “She had connections. We were going to open our own marijuana bar. She even had the location all scoped out. While Dickey was busy in Italy buying that miserable antique millstone, Carla was in Amsterdam putting a down payment on our future. But we never got the chance to move, or even begin our love affair. She was murdered before anything happened.”

“You mean, you two never—” I didn’t quite know how to ask about the details.

She looked at me. Waiting. Then she said, “If you mean did we ever sleep together? No. We kissed a couple times, but Carla was a virgin and she wanted to wait until we had a commitment ceremony in Amsterdam before she’d sleep with me. She was like that. Wholesome. Pure. Just like our oil.”

Aunt Babe made a gesture behind Hetty’s back telling me that something Hetty was saying wasn’t true. “You better get ready for bed, honey,” Aunt Babe said to Hetty, while gently rubbing Hetty’s back. “We have an early morning.”

Hetty nodded and stood. “But who’s going to clean all this up?”

“We will,” I told her, wanting to hear what Aunt Babe had to say.

“You’re just like your dad. A sweetheart,” she said, getting up then carefully making her way across the kitchen. When she got to the other side, she took off her shoes and disappeared up the wooden stairway to the second floor. As soon as she was out of earshot, Aunt Babe turned to me and said, “What a crock of crap.”

Two hours later, the kitchen was spotless. I wore a soft pink silk robe with matching nightgown and slippers, courtesy of Aunt Babe. My hair was still wet, but free of pastry goo once again, and pulled up in a clip on the back of my head.

Lisa wore a vintage floral cotton robe over white silk pajamas that were straight out of a forties film, and Aunt Babe was decked out in a vintage cream-colored ensemble complete with feathers and big, belled sleeves that I was sure I’d seen on Ginger Rogers in The Gay Divorcé.

We sipped herbal tea out of Italian pottery mugs. “Okay, first, did you kill Dickey?” I was hoping I could see the lie in her eyes.

She gave me a warm smile. “No, doll, I didn’t kill him. I never hated him enough to do him in. I’d get stinking mad at him sometimes, but I never wanted him dead like some of the other people around here.”

I believed her.

“If you didn’t do it, how’d you get that ring? Especially since we were the ones who found him first. We could hear the killer in the barn.”

“What you heard was me trying to get that damn ring off his finger.”

“That was you grunting and groaning?”

“You know how hard it was to rip that thing off his finger? It might as well have been glued on. I had to use olive oil to slide it off.”

“Why’d you take it, and why did you try to keep it a secret?” Lisa wanted to know.

“I took it because Dickey owed me, big time. I figured I could sell it and make up for some of the crap I went through after he went to prison. The bum left me with nothing, and if it wasn’t for your mom cutting me in on this orchard I’d still be scratching out a living.”

“But the killer thinks we have it. Probably why he tried to run us off the road today,” Lisa said.

“And now Giuseppe wants it or at least he says he wants it for some other family,” I added. “What’s up with that ring, anyway? Dickey was keen on wearing it to the party. Any idea why?”

She shook her head and took a sip of hot tea, the steam still billowing off the surface. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, let’s leave that for now and get back to Hetty and Carla. Want to tell us what really happened between Carla and Aunt Hetty?” I sat forward, resting my elbows on the small table in the corner of the kitchen. A bank of windows on my left displayed a coral streaked sky. Dawn was fast approaching, but no way would I allow sleep to take hold. Not before I heard what this woman had to say.

“Carla was not a lesbian,” Aunt Babe said, emphatically.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Lisa said, moving over to the cozy looking window seat with the inviting cushions. She immediately made herself comfortable and nestled up to a particularly soft looking pillow and shut her eyes.

When Lisa was tired she could fall asleep anywhere, including in a front row seat of a Kiss concert.

“How can you be so sure?” I asked.

“Because that was Carla’s shtick. She tried to get everyone to believe she was pure as morning snow, trying to make up her mind which way her libido was swinging, but we all know what happens to snow when it sits around too long. Dirty slush. That’s not to say the doll deserved what she got, but that undecided virgin thing was a big crock of crap.”

“But Aunt Hetty’s pretty sharp. Wouldn’t she have picked up on that?”

“Doll, you’re not seeing the tree. You’re too busy looking at the whole jungle. Hetty’s on fire when it comes to business and baking, but when it comes to her own emotions, she’s pure stupid. She was in love with Dickey for awhile. I think they were even doing the deed when he and I were first married.”

This was news to me, but then most things were. I was thinking that all those years of booze and parties put me in some sort of bubble because I had no idea any of this was going on. After all, when you start drinking when you’re fourteen . . . well, it caused me to miss most of my teens, and the majority of my twenties was a complete blur. I was so hoping to catch up during my fast-approaching thirties.

“But you and Hetty are so close.”

“Now. Back then we hated each other. I don’t think you remember, but your aunt Hetty was a real looker when she was your age. Some believes she was prettier than me, if you can believe that.” She flounced her hair, and smacked her ruby lips.

“Then how did she hook up with Carla when she had Dickey on the line?”

“Dickey dropped her for Carla. Not only were they sneaking around on me, but Carla had some other guy in her closet who thought he was her one and only. But here’s the thing, Carla was a true dream weaver. It was hard to separate fact from her latest fantasy.”

I figured this was the same guy Jade told me about, the missing Carlo Ponti. Things were beginning to add up.

“You know who this other guy was?” I asked.

“Carla was good at keeping secrets. A real closed door whenever anybody got too close.”

“How does Hetty fit into all of this? Into Dickey’s murder?”

“Don’t know exactly. That’s where it gets a little sketchy. I don’t really think Hetty popped Dickey, not in my heart, but who’s to say what’s in her heart. I know losing this lifestyle and this business would be devastating to Hetty. She already lost one dream because of Dickey. I’m sure she doesn’t want to lose another one.”

“Do you think Carla loved Hetty?”

Babe shook her head. “Carla was a player. I don’t think the woman was capable of love. I think the only reason she took up with Hetty was to keep her quiet. It’s like this, doll, Carla didn’t want Mr. Jealous to find out about her and Dickey, and she knew Hetty would blab it to everybody. Hetty can be viciously vindictive. So Carla comes on to Hetty, and Hetty, who told me she never dug making it in the first place, falls head over heels for Carla. She was giddy in love with the woman. Couldn’t wait to move to Amsterdam. Like that was ever going to happen.”

“Why didn’t you believe it?”

“Because I saw Carla and Dickey doing the lip tango while standing on my front stoop.”

“When was this?”

“When Dickey and me lived in Nob Hill in San Francisco. A big fancy house with a garden I loved. You remember that house, don’t ya?”

I nodded even though I’d only seen it once. Aunt Babe hadn’t been very social back then.

“Anyway, I’d been roosting in Chicago for a Noir film festival and caught the earlier flight home so I could fly first class. My flight only had economy seats left and a doll like me can’t do economy. Ruins the image. Anyway, when I couldn’t get Dickey on the phone I dialed up Federico. The man is a saint. He was busy that morning, but told me if I could wait a little while he’d send Jimmy over. Back then, Jimmy was considered an associate, not quite part of the Family, and he idolized Federico like a big brother. They were always together. Jimmy would do anything Federico asked him to do. Anyway, I told him that was cool. To take his time. What did I care? At least I was getting a ride home.”

She stopped to drink tea, and to light a thin menthol cigarette, blowing the smoke over my head, getting that calm look on her face that a real smoker had whenever they lit up during a stressful moment. I inhaled the perfume, envying her discipline. She had been smoking three cigarettes a day for the past ten years. A feat I could only admire. I’d been a two-pack-a-day kind of girl, sometimes three. Anything short of that would be impossible for me.

Therefore, I didn’t smoke.

“So that’s when you saw Dickey and Carla. From the car window?”

“Exactly. Believe me, that woman was not a lesbian. Not the way she was making whoopee with my Dickey. They must have been out there like that for a good fifteen minutes. Long enough so I could snap some pictures. Dickey liked to play me and deny his affairs. I figured with the pics I could rake him over the coals for some solid alimony. Anyway, I saw Carla take that horseshoe ring off her index finger and slip it on Dickey’s pinky. Funny thing was, I looked everywhere for that damn ring after he was hauled off to the slammer, figuring I could sell it for some cash. Money got tight, but I never saw the damn thing until the other night when he showed up for the party wearing it. He must have had it stashed somewhere.”

I decided to tell her the truth about the ring.

“My mom had it in her safety deposit box at the bank.”

“Your mom! Why didn’t she tell me?” She took a long drag on her cigarette.

“Did you ever ask?”

She thought about this for a moment, blowing smoke up over my head again, its sweet fragrance embracing us. I inhaled memories and felt a ting of melancholy.

I so craved the taste of a cigarette, and the calm feeling one got with that first drag. It was like heaven in just three little inches.

“No. Never in a million years did I think your mom would have it. He was a smart man, that Dickey.”

She took another deep drag. I watched, mesmerized by the ease of her controlled habit.

“Apparently, not as smart as everybody thought,” I said. “He told me the ring was going to give somebody real heartburn.”

“It gave me heartburn, that’s for sure. But I didn’t kill the bastard. He and I went into the barn earlier that night for some privacy, but when I left him the first time, he was still very much alive.”

“What did you talk about?”

“I wanted to know his plans for the land, but all he wanted to do was fool around. I let him cop a feel or two. Why not? These are the genuine article.” She pushed out her rather large chest and ran her hands over her breasts. “And most men these days don’t get the opportunity to play around with a natural pair, what with all them implants these young girls get. And Dickey always had a fondness for these puppies so I figured what the hell. A little feel wouldn’t make any difference. Besides, the guy was shut up for eight years. He was hungry for a little action.”

“But he had a fiancée,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, well, that’s Dickey for ya. The consummate player.”

She took a last drag then snuffed out the cigarette in a crystal ashtray. “And besides, he never said a word to me about Jade, and even if he did, I’d have known he wasn’t serious. A guy like that? Married right out of prison? Never gonna happen.”

She knew him better than she thought.

I grabbed for my mug and held the warm cup in my hands. The heat gave me a shiver. I was getting sleepy, but I didn’t want to stop talking yet. Aunt Babe was on a roll, and no way did I want her to settle in for the night without first getting all my questions answered.

“Jade confessed the engagement was all a ruse.”

She smirked, and slammed her hand on the table. “I knew it, the son of a bitch. A real game playing prick right to the end. I’m glad I took that damn ring. A ring like that shouldn’t go to waste.”

“But it’s dangerous for you to have it while the killer is still out there. Right now he thinks I have it so you’re safe, but if it ever gets out that you have it, there’s no telling what he or she might do.”

“I’ve thought about that, especially after tonight when that new Wise Guy showed up.”

“I’m more worried about the killer. I think the idiot killer is the person who tried to run us off the road today. There’s no telling what he or she might do next.”

She thought about that for a moment. “You’re right, doll.” I think I must have surprised the killer while he was trying to get it off Dickey’s finger. I found an open futso near the body when I walked in and some oil on Dickey’s pinky finger. Thing is, I only went back in the barn to tell Dickey we were through. I was feeling a little guilty over leading him on earlier. Although, now that I know the bastard had a young sweetie, he probably didn’t care one hoot about me. Anyway, whoever it was that did Dickey in was already trying to get the ring off. I just finished the process.

“And one more thing about that ring, I always felt like some royal sucker gave it to Carla thinking she would cherish it, like it would mean something to her, and then she up and gave it to Dickey just to stir up the pot. She was like that . . . one of them evil cooks.”

“What happened after Carla gave him the ring?”

“Dickey admired it, slipped it on and they started kissing again so I told Jimmy to get me the hell out of there. He threw it in reverse and we bugged out. He drove me around for awhile then drove me back home right around the time my original flight would have gotten in.”

I was suddenly filled with more questions. This was getting good. “Is there any way that Hetty could have known about that morning at your house?”

“Had to. She was sleeping up in the guestroom at the back of the house.”

“What? But wouldn’t the loving couple have known that?”

She shrugged. “That’s the thing of it. Hetty phoned me the night before I came home, crying about something I couldn’t understand. She lived here in Sonoma at the time and asked if she could drive up to talk to me. I told her when I’d be home, but she didn’t want to wait. Dickey was supposed to be in Napa looking at some land, so I told her to drive on over and wait for me at the house. And that’s just what she did. But when I went looking for her later that morning, she’d already left.”

“How do you know she was actually there?”

“The bed looked slept in and the doll left her best shoes in the closet. We’ve never talked about it, though. I know how hard it must have been for her. Poor thing. I think that’s why she’s a little off, ya know what I mean?”

I somehow didn’t think Hetty’s quirks were a direct result of Dickey and Carla’s affair. The woman was born strange, but who was I to argue with Babe?

“What if I told you that Dickey never had sex with Carla? That it was all a hoax just like Jade and Dickey pretended to be engaged. Jade told me that Carla refused to have sex until she was married.”

I could see the disbelief on Babe’s face. She pushed herself away from the table, as if she was trying to step away from the truth. “What? That can’t be. I saw them out on that stoop.”

A strange thought hit me, one that made perfect sense, but one that Aunt Babe might never have considered. “You saw them kissing, and you assumed they’d spent the night together, but maybe they hadn’t. Maybe she’d just arrived, and Hetty had actually spent the night with him. The reason he kissed Carla for so long out on the stoop was because he didn’t want to invite her in with Hetty hiding under his bed.”

A long couple of minutes passed before Babe leaned back in.

Lisa opened her eyes. “Babe, I think you’ve been had.”

It seemed as if Lisa had been listening the whole time pretending to nap so Babe would feel more like talking. I had to give Lisa credit. The woman knew when to keep her mouth shut and when to speak up.

With Lisa’s words I remembered Hetty coming out of my mom’s house the night of the party with her blouse undone, and Dickey slicking back his messy hair, and wiping his face, especially his mouth with his white handkerchief. No wonder Hetty had been so huggy. She and Dickey had been getting it on and I had disturbed them.

I was beginning to think Hetty’s heart wasn’t as kind as Babe would like to think it was.

“That two-timing . . . I’ll be damned.” And she lit up another cigarette.

“One more thing,” Lisa asked. “When did all this take place? How close to Carla’s murder?”

Babe sat back in her chair, took a long satisfying drag and said, “Carla’s housekeeper found her lying under an overturned coffee table, shot in the head, that very afternoon.”