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I smiled. “Not a chance. Thanks for backing me up.”
“Part of the service.”
I picked up the photo Ernst had handled. I was in high school in that picture, about to start my senior year. That had been a good time, a happy time—Mom, Daddy, and me, with Nonie, a wonderful day at a restaurant in Avalon on Santa Catalina Island, back when I felt safe traveling there. This photo was the last one we had of Nonie before she died. Daddy had his sailing hat on, the one with Stella Maria embroidered on it. I put the picture back on the mantle where it belonged. Ernst had put it back haphazardly.
Except it hadn’t been haphazard; he’d left the photo of him, Aunt Rossella, and Lara near the center and put our family picture on the end. What a turd move.
He’d pretended his visit was because he wanted to check on Lara. What a joke. She despised him, and he didn’t care about her. His visit had been to remind me again that he wanted to take Casa di Rossi away from me and nothing else.
He probably already had the subdivision plans drawn up and machines at the ready to rip out the last standing bit of orchard in this part of town. He’d turn our little patch of history into some stupid condo development of lookalike stucco boxes and asphalt parking spaces. Yuck.
I looked out the window in time to see the jerk drive off.
We were only halfway into the nextFriendsepisode when the doorbell rang once more.
Constance got up. “You’re popular this evening.”
I moved out of sight again, not wanting to talk to Josh.
“Can I help you?” Constance asked.
“I need to talk to Nicole Rossi.” The man’s voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Can I give her a message?”
“I need to come in and talk with her,” he said.
“Stand back,” Constance shouted.
“Or what?” the man shouted back.
I finally placed the voice. It was Bad Boy Billy. I raced around the corner.
Constance had backed away from the door. “Don’t try it. I guarantee I’m faster than you.” She had her hand on her gun.
The big man’s eyes bulged out, clearly surprised that he couldn’t push the little woman around. One hand was behind his back, the other held a folder.
“It’s okay,” I yelled to Constance. “I know him.”
Constance wasn’t backing down. “Show me your hands, slowly.”
“He’s from the bail bond company,” I explained.
Billy brought out his hand from behind his back—empty.
“Turn around slowly,” Constance commanded.
He did, and she pulled out the gun that had been at the small of his back. “You can have it when you leave.”
He relaxed and turned to me. “Nicole Rossi?” He didn’t recognize me, probably a result of dealing with a hundred people a day that he’d rather not remember.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Is Lara Martini here?”
“No.”
“Do you know where she is?”
