Free The Spia Family Presses On by Mary Leo Page B

track.
    Uncle Ray said, “The cops’ll think it was a community killin’ or something equally as stupid and it’ll ruin everything we’ve worked for. Hell, the newspapers and cable news might get wind of this and some of our old enemies could crawl outta the woodwork lookin’ for a little revenge. Then where will we be? No, the best thing to do is to bury the bastard and be done with it.”
    “I agree with Ray,” Uncle Benny said. “Cops will just bring trouble to the family, and the one thing we do not need is more trouble. I vote we get a place ready under that big olive tree next to the barn.”
    “One thing’s for sure,” Uncle Ray said as he hunched down to get another look at Dickey, “none of us here clipped the bastard. We ain’t stupid enough to shit where we eat.”
    “Not unless one of you wanted to get even and set somebody up,” I said.
    Federico looked over at me, his face in a bunch. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Nobody here would do that. We’re family.”
    Uncle Ray stood. “I’m getting’ a bad feeling about this. We need to move him outta here. Now.”
    “But wouldn’t you like to know who killed him?” Lisa asked.
    Okay, not the best thing to say, at least not in this crowd. If one of their own clipped him, then let sleeping dogs lie would be their motto. If that person didn’t want to come forward and turn themselves in, which was highly doubtful, or disappear on their own, then so be it. The problem was if any of them learned who did it, then they’d have to turn that person in or risk their own freedom. No way did any of these born-again angels want to take another trip on the dark side. They were into the legitimate business of olive oil now, and they intended to keep it that way.
    The silence was palpable. No one moved, or breathed for that matter. Lisa was an outsider, and even though she’d been my best friend practically since I took my first step, an outsider didn’t interfere in family business.
    With those few words, it was as if my family finally realized her presence, as if all this time they hadn’t completely focused in on her. But now they did, and from the look on their collective faces, I could tell they wanted her gone and fast.
    It was my turn to say something. “Lisa’s right. And besides, she’s the one who found Dickey first, so her DNA is all over this place. She’s a stand-up girl, you all know that, and now she’s just as much of a suspect as the rest of us.”
    I looked around for a nod of acceptance, a wink of hope, something that told me they weren’t going to unilaterally shun her for the rest of time, but all I got were blank stares. No expressions. No tells. Not even a twitch, which, for my family, wasn’t completely bad news.
    She leaned in and whispered, “Thank you for that. Up until now I thought I was merely an eye witness to the aftermath of a crime, but now that I’m a suspect I’ll sleep easier.”
    “Sorry, but I had to defend you,” I told her.
    “Is that what that was?”
    I nodded, shrugged and gave her a little smile.
    Uncle Ray said, “I only talked to Dickey once all night when he was lookin’ for a wine opener. He told me he couldn’t stick around long. He had one thing to do and once that was done he was headin’ back to the city in the morning.”
    “What time was that?” I asked thinking I should get some kind of timeline going.
    “I don’t know. I gave up watchin’ the clock when I retired,” he growled. “But I was glad to hear it. I didn’t want him hanging around here any longer than necessary.”
    “Are we talking daylight or night?” I asked.
    “Still daylight. That I can say for sure. Those little lights wasn’t on yet, ‘cause I remember lookin’ at ‘em thinkin’ how we should hang some more.”
    “I opened his wine bottle. Russo’s Pinot Noir,” Aunt Babe said, the sound of her heels clicking up behind Uncle Ray. “Poured out two glasses, one for him and one for