Trading Faces

By Michaeline Della Fera

Cecce DeLuca is not your typical P.I. Her passion for justice is only surpassed by her passion for food. Lottery money won by her mother, Sophia, provides the opportunity for Cecce, her mother, and Cecce's best friend, Ginny Townsend, to visit a health spa in Arizona, where instead of relaxation, they meet face-to-face with murder and uncover a deadly secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781590883686

Book preview

One

H as someone called the ambulance? Mike Walker shouted to the group of police officers standing next to him.

Yes, sir, one answered. It’s on the way.

Tell it to hurry. Grab something and stop that bleeding, he ordered. She can’t die!

The officer ran back to his car and came back carrying a first aid box and several large, white cloths. These towels are clean. I was going to wash my car after work, he said, as he handed them to Mike.

Mike dropped to one knee and wadded up the cloths until they were bunched together. He pressed them to her shoulder and held them there, applying pressure.

Cecce DeLuca tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t move. It was as if someone had glued them shut. She thought she heard someone shouting and someone leaning over her praying. She did feel pressure on her left shoulder and she wanted to tell someone it hurt. In fact, she had never been in so much pain, but she couldn’t remember why she hurt so.

Did they catch the guy who did this? Mike shouted.

Yes, the young officer answered. After he shot her, the guy was trying to escape; a neighbor heard the commotion and called nine-one-one. Fortunately, Officer Ron Thomas was close by. He answered the call and radioed for help. See that guy in the second car?

Mike Walker turned his head but only for a fraction of a second and saw a dark haired man sitting in the back seat. He knew he had to keep constant pressure on the wound, or she could bleed to death. Is he cuffed?

Yeah.

Is someone watching him?

Yeah, one of the volunteers is standing next to the car.

That’s not enough, Mike barked. Get a real cop over there. I don’t want him going anywhere. Cuff him to the car door if you have to.

Yes, sir, the officer answered and ran toward the car, leaving Mike kneeling by Cecce’s side.

Cecce, can you hear me? Mike asked.

She thought she said yes, but he asked again and louder this time.

Cecce, hang in. Help is on the way. Get that ambulance here. Now!

Cecce Deluca had no idea what he was talking about. Hang in where? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember where she was. If she could, she knew she’d know what he was talking about. She tried to open her eyes again, but suddenly she felt lifeless and powerless. The constant buzzing in her head wouldn’t go away and it was becoming annoying. She wanted to give in to the tired feeling; she felt so cold, but oddly peaceful. Somewhere off in the distance, she thought she saw a light, a bright white light, like a search light at a circus. And someone was calling her name, Cecce. Cecce DeLuca. Follow me. Come to me. She strained to see better, but the air was heavy with dew, and a fog-like substance began enveloping her, enfolding her as if she were a newborn. It was becoming so difficult to breathe. She wanted to hold her breath and save her energy.

The light came closer, and she saw a figure standing in its midst. The figure waved, and she lifted her hand and gingerly waved back. The figure moved closer and said, Cecce, come home. I’ve prepared a place for you. I’ve been waiting for you. I miss you.

Home? But my home is here, she answered, as the figure moved closer. She recognized her father, who had been dead for four years. Dad? Is that you? she asked, completely bewildered.

Yes, he answered, as he reached out his hand. Take it and come with me.

She wanted to run up to him and throw her arms around him, just like when she was little and he’d come home from work. She’d sit on the front steps anxiously waiting for him to turn the corner. Then she’d run to him, and he’d sweep her up in his big powerful arms and swing her around and around. She’d squeal and scream with delight. Even now, she could still remember that sensation of flying that swept over her. She felt as light as a bird caught on a wind current, able to soar for miles and miles. But she knew she couldn’t go with him. I can’t come yet, Dad. It’s not my time. She felt heavy, like someone had strapped lead diver’s weights to her feet.

He touched her hand and she felt herself rising from the ground.

No, Dad, I can’t come. I can’t! she shouted. By the time her last word was out of her mouth, the vision of her father vanished from her sight, and she wondered if she had done the right thing. Her body shuddered and her toes felt as if she had been standing in snow all day. She wondered what was happening to her.

Mike put his hand on Cecce’s hand and gently rubbed it, saying, Shh. He moved his hand to her forehead and brushed the hair out of her face. He grew quiet for a moment. You’ll be okay now. I’ll make sure of it. He brushed back some more of the hair matted to her forehead. You gave me quite a scare. He grew quiet for another moment then turned suddenly as Ron Thomas tapped him on the shoulder.

The ambulance is here, Ron said quietly. The EMTs want to load her on a gurney.

Okay, Mike said. Bring it over here and I’ll help.

It’s better if you get out of the way. Officer Thomas led Mike to one of the patrol cars while the EMTs picked Cecce up, placed her on a gurney and drove away.

Like hell I will, Mike, said, I’m going with her. All the way!

Two

The beep, beep in the distance woke her, and Cecce tried to lift her head to look around, but all she saw were light green walls, tubes, and some black things that looked as if they belonged in a Star Wars movie. Her head and shoulder ached and she wished she had a couple or three aspirins. She felt so over all achy, as if she had the flu, and she was thirsty. She looked around and saw Ginny sitting in a chair at the foot of her bed and Mike Walker sitting next to her. Both appeared to be sleeping. Hey, guys, she whispered. Her throat hurt even worse than when she was a kid and had strep. What are... she swallowed, and added, doing here? Where are we? She managed to say all at once.

Ginny shot upright and poked Mike in the arm. Cecce, are you okay? she asked, as she came over to the bed and touched her arm.

Mike followed a few steps behind, then decided to move to the other side of the bed. You gave us quite a scare, he said. Cecce thought she saw concern on both of their faces.

Scare? What... she gagged a little, ... talking about?

Don’t you remember anything? Ginny asked, solicitously.

Mike said, Shh. It doesn’t matter. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. The nurse said we shouldn’t tire you.

Tire? Me? What’s going on? She tried to lift her head, but she couldn’t get her eyes to focus. She closed them for a minute and took as deep a breath as she could. Where am I? What... all... tubes sticking... me...? She tried pointing to the one in her hand that irritated her most. What’s... beeping? Shut... off. Headache.

Ginny broke into a smile. It’s the same old Cecce. You haven’t changed a bit.

...happened... she swallowed and winced from the pain.

What’s the last thing you remember? Mike asked, as he bumped into the bed and Cecce moaned. Oh, sorry, he said, and tried to give her a smile.

Head... foggy. So tired. She glanced at her shoulder. It hurt to move her head. What’s... bandage for? Am I hurt...? You’re not telling me? She really wanted to ask if she was dead and was this heaven or the other place, but Ginny and Mike looked so serious. Remember bright light... my dad... Saw him. Didn’t want to go... Mike and Ginny glanced at each other, and she decided this wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

Do you remember anything before that? Mike asked. His face showed confusion and worry; all twisted together like a pretzel.

Loud noise. Very loud... I, she swallowed and most of her words got lost somewhere in her throat, ’member... shot. She raised her right hand and tried to touch her left shoulder, but she pulled it back instantly. Pain... but her voice came out only as a hoarse whisper before it trailed off into silence because, suddenly, she did remember what had happened. At least the part when she turned the corner of the house and peered down the barrel of a semi-automatic. She didn’t expect him to be standing there. She thought he had taken off, and even though she had her finger locked in position, she never had time to pull the trigger.

She remembered how much fear swept over her in such a short period of time. That should be a question on that Millionaire show. How many milliseconds does it take for a person to become totally paralyzed with fear?

Even now she could feel the impact of the bullet as it so effortlessly penetrated her tee shirt and skin. So much blood for such a tiny hole, she remembered thinking, as a red liquid spurted out, and she stood so detached watching her life dissipate into the air while a dark red stain spread across the front of her tee shirt.

The bullet didn’t bounce off of her like it did to her childhood heroes, Superman and Wonder Woman. The force knocked her down, and she remembered lying there wondering how many minutes it took to die. She wanted to mumble a prayer of some sort, because she thought that’s what she was supposed to do, but she couldn’t remember any words. Now she was sorry she didn’t pay more attention in catechism class. She was always too busy, trying to be the class clown and making all the other kids laugh, to pay attention. Who had time to learn prayers? Anyway, she was young and had her whole life ahead of her. Only the elderly prayed.

Ginny said, I think I should get a nurse. You can ask your questions later when she’s feeling better. I need to call Sophia and let her know Cecce is okay. I sent her home to rest and told her I’d call immediately if there was any sign of a change. She put her hand on Mike’s arm and gently led him from the room.

Okay, I’ll go for now. But I’ll be back. We have that fucker anyway. He’s going to go away for a long time. I’ll see to it. He strode off down the corridor, leaving Ginny standing alone.

Three

Sophia DeLuca pushed her gray hair back and now wished she had pinned it into a bun, anything to get it out of her eyes and off her neck. Even though she was only sixty-nine, she felt so old. A few days ago, before her only daughter was shot, she would have told anyone that this side of seventy was just the beginning of life. She felt better than she did at forty and had much more energy. But now, she felt old and decrepit and wondered if she’d die before the weekend. She looked over at Ginny Townsend and realized how fortunate Cecce was to have such a good friend. Ginny looked much the same as when she was in high school, with shoulder length brunette hair, glasses and a petite slender body that made her appear much taller than her five feet seven inches.

She remembered the first time Cecce brought her to the house. The girls were at Boston Catholic and neither one knew anyone else, so it was natural for them to gravitate together and become friends. Since the DeLuca’s lived in the North end of Boston, all of Cecce’s friends had been Italian. Ginny was her first non-Italian friend. But within days of Ginny entering the DeLuca home, Sophia thought of her as her other daughter.

At first, though, she regarded Ginny as an alien. She had never eaten pasta con fagioli, pasta and beans that she had to admit she really didn’t care for that much, or torta di ricotta, the ricotta pie she made for holidays and special occasions. In her mind, Ginny might as well have been from a far-off galaxy.

Sophia crossed the room and put her arm around Ginny. You look tired. Why don’t you go home for a while, and I’ll stay with Cecce?

Ginny rubbed her eyes. I am tired. Do you know this is the second time I’ve had to sit by Cecce’s side in the hospital and wonder if she was going to be okay?

Second time? Sophia asked, as she rubbed her temples. She had such a throbbing headache.

Yes, remember last year when she fell off her horse and spent a couple of days in a coma?

That seems like it was so long ago. I try to forget times like that. My daughter makes me worry a lot. She moved her hand up to her hair and ran it along her right side as if searching for any stray gray stands. She loves that horse. I don’t understand but... she tells me he’s great. What do I know about horses?

Ginny moved closer to the bed and took Sophia with her. Doesn’t she look good?

Sophia stared at the body in the bed. How can my only daughter be a private investigator? When I get to heaven, I’m going to kill her dad’s brother, Louie, for influencing her and letting her think she could do this type of work. He was a cop. He had a uniform and he was a man. If she wanted to chase crooks, she should have applied a second time to the Police Academy and then gotten a desk job. Just because she is a few pounds overweight, they wouldn’t take her. Who cares what you weigh when sitting behind a desk? But no, she has to become a private investigator. It’s dangerous. I’ve been telling Cecce that for years.

She stopped talking and took a long breath then reached out and touched her only daughter’s arm. The skin felt so clammy, yet she let her hand linger. I’ve been telling her, be a teacher, like Ginny. Get a desk job. Anything so I won’t have to worry about you all the time. But she’s a true Italian. Stubborn. I know she only went to Northeastern just to appease me. I wanted her to take education courses, business courses, accounting... anything but what does she do?

Ginny stood quietly.

Majors in Criminal Law. Whatever that is. I asked her, how are you going to support yourself with Criminal Law? Criminals don’t know about law.

Ginny watched as several teardrops fell from Sophia’s eyes and she handed her some Kleenex from the box next to Cecce’s bed. It’s okay, Mrs. D.; Cecce does what she likes best. And she’s good at it. You only go around once and you might as well do something you like.

How can you say that? Look at her. She’s dying.

Who’s dying? a barely audible voice asked. A silence permeated the room, then Cecce asked again in a voice that cracked and squeaked, Who?

No one now, Ginny answered, smiling and squeezing her hand.

Sophia leaned over and kissed Cecce on the forehead. You feel hot, but it’s so good to hear you talk. You had us so scared.

Why?

How much do you remember? Ginny asked.

I remember... Cecce coughed a little. Throat hurts.

Just relax, her mother answered as she brushed Cecce’s damp hair back off her forehead. You need to rest.

Remember gun. Guy turned ’round... fired at me. Cecce closed her eyes and tried not to think about what could have happened. She tried to smile, but ended up having a coughing spasm.

Mike said you’d have to testify, Ginny said, as she picked up the glass of water on the tray next to Cecce’s bed and held it while she tried to take a couple of sips.

Mike?

Sure. He’s been here almost all the time. I sent him home a little while ago. He looked so tired and mentioned something about needing to get some work done. And he wanted to check up on the guy who shot you. Just wanted to make sure they didn’t botch anything up. He’ll be back. I think they’re going to arraign the guy tomorrow and the trial date should be set. We probably should let you sleep now. The nurse said not to tire you. Ginny reached over and tapped Mrs. D. on the shoulder and made a motion toward the door.

Reluctantly, Sophia got up from the bed and turned toward Ginny, then turned back to Cecce. Ginny told me you saw Dad and that he was waiting for you and he wanted you to go with him. Why didn’t you go?

Go with Dad? She closed her eyes and suddenly remembered something else. A funeral. Ginny and her mother and an empty church. Where were all the people she loved and she thought loved her? She saw the priest drape the burial cloth over her coffin and she shuddered. She still remembered the empty feelings that enveloped her. Dead at thirty-nine. How could that be? She still had a whole life ahead of her. She wasn’t supposed to die until she was old, at least seventy or seventy-five.

Her throat still hurt from trying to tell everyone she wasn’t dead. She remembered screaming, I’m alive. I’m not dead. Can’t anyone hear me? She even banged on the coffin lid, but it was as if Ginny, her mother and the priest were deaf.

Now she wondered why she didn’t go with her Dad. She wouldn’t have to worry about paying her electric bill or fretting over her lack of a retirement plan or about not finding the right man. Wasn’t time, she finally said. I’m too mean an’ ornery. Only the good die... but she didn’t finish when she noticed the tears in her mother’s eyes.

Come on, Mrs. D., Ginny said, we should go and let Cecce get a little bit of sleep. I’ll bring you back later.

Promise?

I promise, she answered. Besides, I’m hungry. Let’s stop at Martha’s Exchange and get a quick bite, unless you feel like cooking up some chicken parmigiana. She could tell by Sophia’s eyes that food wasn’t on her mind. She took her hand and both tiptoed toward the door.

Four

Cecilia DeLuca stretched her arms over her head and inhaled. It felt so good to be able to breathe on her own, without it hurting and not having any tubes sticking in or out of some body part. Her hospital stay was gradually receding into a faded memory. She looked down at her arms and noticed several small black and blue marks from some of the needles they were constantly putting in her, but she didn’t care. Anyway, they gave her something to talk about and she thought about every bruise as a badge of honor. Not many private detectives are shot in the line of duty. Most are offed by their own irate wives or just die of old age. She felt lucky on both accounts.

She stripped her nightgown off and glanced down at her hips, stopping at the love handles on each side. She had hoped that with the lack of solid food she’d lose some weight, but she dared not step on the scale. Last year she had tried to diet and to get into shape. She still hadn’t found her hand weights, even though she promised herself everyday to start her training. She just had a weakness for sugar and carbs. Pasta and bread were at the top of her food pyramid. Without them, she knew she couldn’t face a sunset.

Last year, she topped the scale at one hundred and ninety-five pounds. She thought that was an all time high. She knew that if she stepped on the scale today, it would read over two hundred. How come, she wondered, that the numbers on her scale never went backwards?

She ran her fingers through her short, slightly wavy brown hair and stretched her frame as tall as she could without feeling the sting in her rib cage. Yes, if she were taller than five feet six, she wouldn’t have to worry about her weight. She owed the three h’s in her life to her Italian heritage: humor, hair and height. Oh, well, two out of three wasn’t that bad.

She closed her eyes and thought