Never Cry Uncle

Never Cry Uncle

By

Mia Dymond

Copyright © 2011 Mia Dymond

Published on Smashwords

Cover photo: Dreamstime.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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THREE YEARS AGO

Don Antonio Scarletti took another two steps forward then folded his hands in front of him as he waited his turn. It seemed as if days had passed since he first joined the line waiting for admittance through the Pearly gates. He released a patient sigh. If he were on Earth, he would’ve been directed to the front of the line and through the Gates without hesitation. He glanced around at the wispy white clouds and the peaceful, serene atmosphere. Heaven was a far cry from the world he knew.

Antonio Fernando Scarletti.

At the sound of his summons, Antonio raised a hand, straightened his tie, and then buttoned the lapel of his best Armani silk suit. Don Carlos had chosen his burial attire well.

Si, he answered in his usual raspy baritone.

I will see you now.

Antonio squared his shoulders, drew himself to his intimidating six foot three height and moved forward. Once he stood in front of a massive ivory podium, a man in a flowing angelic gown peered over the top. Suddenly, Antonio felt much less intimidating.

I am St. Peter, the man explained, and we must discuss your fate.

Antonio folded his hands in front of him, convinced heavy negotiation was inevitable.

Your life on Earth was rather colorful, Antonio, St. Peter told him. What do you have to say for yourself?

With all due respect, Sir, my actions were required to protect my family.

Although we do not condone your reasoning, we realize you speak the truth. If nothing else, you were an honest man.

Antonio breathed a sigh of relief.

However, we are not prepared to allow your admittance at this time.

Antonio fought to maintain his composure. He had not prepared himself for this conclusion. He reached into his pocket to caress the rosary his brothers had placed there.

We are prepared to give you one last chance, Antonio, but you must complete the task without error.

Antonio raised his eyes in both curiosity and thankfulness. Anything.

Your niece, Allison, remains unattached. If you are able to successfully find her mate, you will demonstrate an act of pure unselfishness.

Antonio swallowed hard. I do not think I will succeed. Why not Lucy?

St. Peter gave a serene but steady smile. You may include her if you wish. After all, you opened your home to her. However, the offer is non-negotiable.

Antonio squared his shoulders. Then I accept. How shall I proceed?

You will be reincarnated.

Forgive me, St. Peter, but I fear that if I return to Earth, it will be a matter of hours before I stand in front of you once again.

You will not return in your Earthly body, Antonio, you will assume the body of a dog.

The hair sprung to attention on the back of Antonio’s neck. Although he was in Heaven, he wasn’t quite sure fate was always kind.

He cleared his throat. I trust you have chosen a proper canine breed.

Appropriately, your form will become that of a Rottweiler.

Antonio nodded in agreement, grossly relieved.

You will be allowed to communicate with both girls and one other human, St. Peter continued, To others, you will appear nothing more than a barking dog.

Antonio found himself intrigued. Who will serve as my confidante?

Don Carlos Scarletti. In fact, I am sure all the uncles will unite to achieve the goal.

Antonio nodded his agreement. I am ready, St. Peter.

CHAPTER ONE

PRESENT

Allison Campbell knew her whole day was destined to be difficult when she awoke at six a.m. to the smell of wet dog and the sound of an Italian aria reverberating throughout the house.

Scar, a two-hundred pound German Rottweiler, had beaten her to the shower.

Most people would consider that strange, an animal singing along to Madame Butterfly in fluent Italian, but then, most people didn’t have the luxury of knowing the family pet was actually a reincarnated relative. Yes, Uncle Antonio Scarletti now answered to Scar. And, this morning he hogged all the hot water.

Allison was so not a morning person anyway, and without a hot shower, her whole day had gone downhill since. Which made her current situation even more tense.

Desperate to throttle her irritation, she took a deep breath and then glanced at her best friend and co-worker, Lucy Monroe. Well?!

Lucy clicked the computer mouse several times. Unbelievable, she murmured. I’ve been Dr. Smallwood’s office manager for seven years, Allison, and not once have my numbers come up short. Until today. And, not just a few dollars. Somewhere along the lines of 25,000 to 30,000 dollars per month for the last quarter. How?

Lucy yanked several bobby pins from the pitch black bun coiled on the back of her head and tossed them to the desk. There is only one logical explanation and it isn’t entirely logical.

Allison fought the urge to laugh at Lucy’s attempt to find logic in this whole mess.

The only explanation I can wrap around my brain is underhanded, sneaky, and downright mean, Lucy continued.

Spit it out, Luce.

Dr. Smallwood has pilfered money from his own practice.

Lucy placed her elbows on the desk, tossed her heavy mass of hair over her shoulder, and smoothed the worry wrinkles from her forehead. Did he really do this?

Allison snorted at her friend’s absurdity. Of course! The only two people with access to the clinic’s deposits are you and Dr. Smallwood, and we know one hundred percent that you didn’t pocket the cash.

Lucy pushed another button and the printer beside her began to spit out pages. She stacked the pages together, licked her index finger, and flipped through them again.

They’re not going to change, Luce.

Allison paused to think a minute. It didn’t really matter that the deposits were short, it was Smallwood’s money to do with as he pleased. However, if the deposits were short, the practice experienced a definite cash flow problem. And, if the cash flow ran dry, the quarterly bonus checks couldn’t be distributed.

Case in point. They really needed to find that money.

Lucy sighed as she stood and straightened her short, business skirt. Why did this have to happen on Friday at 5:00 p.m.? Her eyes widened. On Halloween?

Allison shrugged. He counted on you being distracted by the hospital’s party to notice the sabotage.

I can’t go now.

Why on Earth not?

I have to find this money! Lucy hissed. Maybe I should come in over the weekend to calculate again. Just to be sure.

Do you need a valium?

Lucy closed her eyes and tossed back her head, a move that loosened the top button of her blouse. Funny, Allison.

Seriously. I’m a nurse, I can get you one.

Lucy raised her head. One phone call could make this whole predicament disappear.

No.

Seven numbers, Allison.

Absolutely not. We’ll just have to confront him.

We?

Allison nodded while a grin split her lips. This I have to hear. She reached to fasten Lucy’s button. But we need him to focus on what we have to say.

Lucy inched her way around the corner of the reception desk. I’m not too sure this is a good idea.

Allison grabbed Lucy’s forearm and pulled her down the hallway. I am. It’s go time.

Outside Dr. Smallwood’s office, Lucy tapped on the open door before she and Allison stepped inside. Just like most evenings, he sat in his padded, leather executive chair and surfed the information highway. And since his computer screen was visible from the doorway, Allison noticed that today, the stock market had his full attention.

Lucy cleared her throat. Dr. Smallwood?

His eyes never left the screen. Yes, Lucy?

Again, Allison urged Lucy closer until they stood directly in front of the desk. There’s a problem with the quarterly reports.

Um-hmm, what’s that?

Although she appeared a little un-nerved that he wouldn’t even look at her, Lucy got right to the point. The receivables are approximately 120,000 dollars long.

Um-hmm.

That means the deposits are 120,000 dollars short.

His finger froze on his computer mouse and he lifted his arrogant gaze. What?

Allison narrowed her eyes, not at all surprised by his response.

The deposits for the last quarter were a total of 120,000 dollars short, Lucy explained.

Short?

Yes.

He folded his hands in front of him. I see. And how did this happen?

Allison raised an eyebrow. If he truly didn’t know, things would get ugly in the next ten seconds.

I had hoped you could tell me, Lucy continued.

How would I know?

I thought perhaps you made a cash draw and forgot to mention it.

Allison grasped the top of the chair beside her until her knuckles whitened. Things were now officially ugly.

The big lug leaned forward and his chair squeaked in complaint. I didn’t make the draw.

As usual, Lucy attempted to reason with him. I could check them again, but I don’t think that will make a difference.

A lopsided grin creased his lips as his gaze scanned the length of Lucy’s body from top to bottom and back again, until it paused on her neck. Allison bit her tongue. Damn button.

She waited, practicing great restraint from slapping the snarky smirk from his face.

Lucy placed a hand to the base of her throat. Dr. Smallwood? Do you want me to check the numbers again?

Instead of immediately answering, he leaned back in his chair with his three hundred pound frame oozing over the sides, and buckled his hands behind his head. You’ve taken your hair down.

Lucy reached to pat the non-existent bun. Um, yeah. It’s after five.

Another grin. I take it this has something to do with your bonus check.

Lucy frowned. No, not really. I’m more concerned about the discrepancy.

That’s very noble, considering 120,000 dollars would be quite a bit more than your bonus.

Lucy began to sway and Allison reached to steady her. Once stable, Lucy grasped the chair in front of her. "Are you suggesting I made a cash draw?"

He shrugged. The numbers don’t lie. You and I are the only ones who can access the accounts.

Why would you accuse me of such a thing?

He ignored her hurtful plea. Lucy, he chided, if you needed money, you should’ve just asked. Are you in some sort of trouble?

Allison snorted and prepared to set him straight, but Lucy beat her to the punch.

What? No! You know Allison’s family provides for both of us.

Then why did you pocket the money?

Allison took a deep breath and gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t scream. So much for loyalty. She wanted to thump the top of his balding head so hard his comb-over would curl. Lucy didn’t steal from you, Dr. Smallwood.

He had the audacity to appear amused. Arrogant jerk.

"I’m sure she didn’t come up with the idea all on her own. Besides, steal is such a nasty word. I’m sure she just borrowed the money."

Lucy stomped one foot. I didn’t borrow it either. I do not have your money now, nor did I ever.

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the desktop. Tell you what. You go home and think about this over the weekend and we’ll discuss it on Monday morning.

Allison’s suspicion took center stage. This was entirely too surreal. After being informed 120,000 dollars of his own money was missing, he had the nerve to ogle Lucy’s body, call her a thief, comment on her hair, and then tell her to go home and think about it. Right.

Allison cocked her head to one side. So, let me get this straight. You’re saying we shouldn’t expect our bonus checks?

His grin slid from his lips and something close to fear flickered in his eyes. Allison bit the insides of her cheeks to stifle her laughter. His reaction almost made up for this whole bizarre conversation.

No. I’m sure Lucy will get to the bottom of this.

Coward. Allison lifted an eyebrow. Fine. We’ll talk again on Monday morning.

CHAPTER TWO

That evening, Allison stood next to Lucy outside the banquet room of Maplewood Memorial Hospital, watching her best friend’s cheeks redden.

There’s absolutely no way I can show my face in there dressed like this, Allison.

Allison snorted. Yes you can. It’s Halloween. Nobody really cares what you look like.

Lucy glanced at Allison’s skin-tight black leather cat suit and black strappy stilettos, a carbon copy of her own. What exactly are we supposed to be?

Cat burglars, silly. I figured if we were going to sneak around for information, we might as well look the part.

Lucy shook her head. That’s what I get for leaving it to you to choose Halloween costumes. She tugged on the material and attempted to pull it closed over her breasts. I would’ve been better off dressed as Snow White. With my skin and hair, all I needed was a yellow poufy dress and a string of dwarves. And really, Allison, sleeping from the effects of a poisonous apple sounds pretty good right about now.

Allison ignored Lucy’s drama and peeked around the corner to look into the room. The party seemed to be in full swing. She recognized several doctors and nurses from the hospital, but there were several others she could only identify by costume. The red devil in the center of the room with the pitchfork was probably the hospital administrator. The lab director was dressed as Dracula. And then there was the naughty nurse, coincidentally