Page 21 of Toxic Apple Turnovers

The Trattoria is an upscale Italian restaurant—or at least as upscale as you can get in Leeds—complete with a back entry that has a set of stairs that lead to this alphanumeric nirvana.

Dozens of plastic round tables are set out with matching plastic chairs, and each one of those is nearly filled with a body hunched studiously over at least a half dozen cards each. At the front of the room there’s a large round cage that a pretty brunette spins into oblivion and periodically plucks a number out of.

I scan the crowd for signs of Connie, but there’s an entire sea of dark hair tilted down toward the tables. I’ll never find her like this.

And then, just as if He knew I needed a sign, a spasm of light explodes above a table near the front as Owlbert Einstein shimmers to life—or death as it were.

“This way, ladies.” I lead us straight to Connie’s table, and sure enough there she is in a hot pink tracksuit, her matching pink lips twisted as she studies the plethora of game boards scattered around her. She’s chewing a piece of gum frenetically as if her life depended on that tiny pink ball of slime, and her hair is teased up over her head as if she were paying homage to the eighties. A couple of girls are seated on either side of her, but, for the most part, the rest of the table is open.

“Take a seat, ladies,” she barks our way as if we were disrupting her concentration, and I’m sure we are. “Next round starts in two minutes.” She lifts a hand in the air and snaps her fingers, prompting a couple of girls to come around, and we purchase about six game boards apiece.

Cormack sets down her enormous green tote bag. She let us know on the way over that she chose the size and the color because both were omens for good luck. I’m sure her large green trust fund is a magnificent source of good luck, too.

“Hi, Connie.” Cormack falls in the seat next to mine and gets to arranging her cards. My mouth falls open with deep regret for ever mentioning Connie’s name on the way over. Wait a minute. I didn’t.

“Hey, Mack.” Connie doesn’t even bother to look up.

“You two know each other?” I make crazy eyes at Keelie. Of course, I let Keelie in on who I would be investigating.

“Bingo!” Connie launches out of her seat like a bottle rocket, and a deep groan emits from around us.

Cormack waves me off. “Sure, we know each other.” She gets up and blows air kisses at the chipper brunette. “We do naked yoga together down at the gym.”

Good Lord.

“I think she cheats, Lottie.” Owlbert’s voice whirs like a motor and echoes as it rings out across the room. “I don’t know how, but I’m almost positive of it. And according to the rumors that have been swirling here tonight, others feel the same.”

I make a face at the revelation. She is a Canelli. They’re all cheats as far as I’m concerned. The entire family is comprised of criminal masterminds. What can you expect?

“Connie Canelli.” She nods over at Keelie and me as her lips expand with a winner’s grin. “Welcome to my world.” She frowns over at me as she takes her seat once again. “Haven’t we met before?”

“At my engagement party.” And how I hate to frame it that way.

Cormack shoves her hand toward Connie. “My engagement party. Lita was an add-on item. Buy one engagement party, get one free.” She cackles up a storm while Connie inspects the hardware on her finger.

Keelie leans in. “Don’t worry, Lot. When you really get engaged, I’m going to throw you the world’s biggest party.”

“And I’m doing the same for you.” I give a sly wink.

“No way.” Her eyes grow wide. “Bear and I are low-key, remember?”

“No, you’re not. There’s nothing low-key about you, Keelie. And if Bear thinks so, allow me to introduce the two of you sometime.”

Connie groans as if Cormack just shot her. “You’ve got a good man there, Mack Mack. Any man who picks out a rock like that is in l-o-v-e.”

“Oh yes, he is,” Keelie adds, kicking me from under the table because she knows that Noah picked that ring out for me.

Cormack draws her hand back. “It’s a replica, of course. I would never be foolish enough to run around with the real deal, considering all of the many unfortunate events that can befall a person and their jewelry these days.” She shoots me the side-eye.

Great. Of all the people to judge me, I’ve got Mack Mack—the exact person I’d like to smack smack.

Connie’s face brightens as she looks my way. Her features are well-defined. She’s wearing enough rouge for the entire table, but the peachy shade makes her look like a Kewpie doll, and that might, in fact, be the look she was going for.

“How’s Essex?” She gives a cheeky wink my way, and every muscle in my body freezes. Connie Canelli?Really, Everett? Have you no bounds? “Kidding!” She claps her hands together and laughs violently to the point of wheezing. “I know all about that rough and dirty bad boy, right down to the verbal privileges he doles out to women. He used to date a good friend of mine. Maybe you know her? Fiona Dagmeyer?”

I suck in a quick breath. I guess on the surface it makes sense. Fiona is a defense lawyer—and a family like the Canellis more or less needs an entire entourage of defense lawyers in their back pocket.

“Yes, I do know her.” I try to act casual while arranging my game boards. “She’s a good attorney.”